#still not proud of the execution but i think it was a huge brain moment for me 2 make ras’ trapezius(?) real big.

[jays-supersonic-dynamo]

doodled a cool tiger from that one lego show……

[ramzawrites]

Rivals - Prince!Reader x Prince!Eret

Male

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request from 🌱🌟 my beloved <3 /p

Summary: Prince Y/N and Prince Eret hated each other. That was just a fact. Mostly causing trouble together in order to one up the other. Though over the time even their relationship can change.

Words count: 5367

Authors Note: I’ll be honest you hit me with this request at a very good time so I ended up writing 10 pages in one go haha

At the end I made the executive decision to finally cut it off or I probably would have written even more, for which I’m honestly don’t have the time at the moment. I hope it’s not that obvious but if it is I apologize.

Thank you for the request 🌱🌟

I am reposting it since the original post doesn’t seem to appear in the tags no need to check the original post but I wanted to give a reason why it’s twice on my blog

Prince Eret and Prince Y/N hated each other.

That was just a universally accepted thing and something that made sense. Just like how water is wet, the ground was made out of dirt, Eret and Y/N hated each other.

Both of their respecting kingdoms never had a good relationship to say the least. Way back in the day the two nations have wared against each other which almost ruined both kingdoms forcing the two to an act of neutrality with the behest of the neighboring kingdoms.

Though this was way off in the past. Nowadays they had rebuilt. Their forces and monetary situation stood strong but they stayed neutral. Eyeing each other closely for any slip ups, though they were also bound to contracts that would involve other nations as well should they begin to go to war again, which wasn’t in interest for both parties.

So they tried to mostly ignore each other which only worked to an extent. If you are a strong nation with an impressive military force or with a lot of money, other nations will invite you to their balls, banquets or whatever fancy party they have going at that point. And it was in your best interest to join these as well, to show off your might, wealth or to connect with other foreign powers.

The first time Y/N’s family took him with them to one of these balls, he was barely six years old.

For a six year old a ball was a boring affair. All the adults were courteously laughing and only sipping on their drinks. Occasionally walking on the stage to dance to the slow and boring music.

Y/N was busy watching two older women dance in tandem. Their dresses and silk moving together in a sea of fabric that seemed to hypnotized the child as he sat on the side of the stage. His parents were off somewhere else, feeling they could trust enough in his proper upbringing to not cause any problems, that they left him. Saying that he should try to enjoy himself.

Enjoy himself how? Dance with the lonely grandma that was busy drinking away all the wine in the castle? No, thank you.

Finally tearing his eyes off the dancing women Y/N noticed how someone else was cautiously approaching him. It was another kid in what he assumed was his age. This stranger had fluffy wild hair and had a sympathetic smile on his face. He wore a simple suit similar to Y/N’s but there were a ton of differences in details.

As he got closer Y/N could swear that something seemed off about him. Something in him was screaming but he couldn’t place why he felt like that.

“Hello.” The other kid greeted Y/N.

Y/N looked around the room for a second before setting his attention back on him “Hello. Who are you?” There was a small hope in him, hey maybe this boring ball won’t be so boring after all.

With a proud expression the kid did a proper royal greeting, bowing in front of Y/N for a second “I am Prince Eret from the mighty nation of-“

But Y/N interrupted him “Prince Eret?! I know of you! My parents warned me and told me to ignore you.” He then stuck his tongue out and made a point to look away from him.

Eret furrowed his brows, exclaiming loudly his confusion to this reaction “Huh? Why?”

Y/N rolled his eyes and got off the chair he was sitting on. Just like Eret, he did his own version of the royal greeting that he got taught by his etiquette teachers “I am Prince Y/N.”

He knew he didn’t need to say more which got confirmed by Eret’s worried and confused expression turning into a proper frown.

“Oh, yuck, so that’s what you look like.”

Y/N gasped in anger “What do you mean yuck? You are the yuck one here! Between the two of us I’m clearly the cooler prince!”

“Oh really? Prove it.” Eret huffed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Now fired up Y/N looked frantically through the whole ball room but couldn’t seem to come up with anything, that was until he saw a servant of the local royal family sauntering around with a plate of drinks and even with a few cheese and meat skewers.

“I bet I could steal more of these skewers from the servants than you.”

Instead of backing down Eret now had a competitive glint in his eyes “You are on.”

And that’s how both Eret and Y/N got into their first real trouble with their parents and other nobles.

They snuck around the people, hiding behind huge skirts and trying their best to grab a skewer from the plate. At first they waited for the servant to look away while they were talking to someone but soon their maneuvers turned riskier and riskier. Jumping up to grab one or even trying to distract them before grabbing another.

At some point for whatever reason both jumped into the air at the same time, grabbing the same skewer which ended with them smashing into the servant who in return fell down, the drinks spilling onto a couple that stood closely by.

As the adults were trying to understand what just happened Y/N grabbed Eret’s arm and yelled “Run!”

The two begun running away, making their way into the garden, hiding behind a bush as they heard some adults screaming and running around.

Y/N didn’t care if Eret got caught by the adults but he was worried he might sell him out to them as well. No, he was positive he would definitely snitch on him.

Out of breath the two kids huddled together, keeping their ears open, trying to catch any sound that might come closer to them.

Eret looked at Y/N  “I clearly won.” He then showed off the skewers he was holding against his suit, effectively ruining it.

Y/N shook his head, showing his own off “Nuh-uh. I clearly won.”

For some reason or another they managed to acquire the same amount of food so they sadly had to come to the conclusion that this was a tie. As they angrily begun snacking on their loot, they still continued throwing childish insults at each other.

This only lasted for a few minutes until their parents found them and figuratively tore them away to yell at them. Saying things like “this is not the proper behavior of a prince! Now we have to apologize to all the people! Do you know what this could cost us?”

From that point on their rivalry really started. Every few months they would meet up again by proxy of being invited to the same noble festivities. In fact every time Y/N was on such a party he fully expected Eret being there as well.

He would arrive and keep look out for that oh so dashing prince from the rival kingdom. Y/N scoffed, Eret wished he thought of him like that but in truth Y/N probably knew the best what kind of idiot he could be. After all he had firsthand experience for this.

While they always ended up in some sort of trouble there was this one moment, when they were twelve years old, that always stood out to him.

As usual Eret and Y/N found each other during a banquet. Both immediately fell back into arguing and making fun of each other. The adults got so tired of it that they sent the two outside so they could, in their words, cool down.

“You look ridiculous in your suit.” Eret mumbled towards Y/N as they wandered outside into the garden. Y/N just rolled his eyes as a response, choosing to ignore Eret at this point, not feeling comfortable with being banished outside together with him.

The garden was beautiful, of course.

Different kinds of flowers were planted along all the sides of the garden. Between them stood a few Willow trees with their long leaves hanging above the flowers and seating opportunities while in the middle of the whole place stood a beautiful huge pond with a statue protruding from the middle of it. The statue displayed two unidentifiable human beings holding on to each other, both holding an urn up into the air together where some water was rushing out ouf down into the pond.

While this all, together with the moon light, looked almost magical Y/N was more concentrated on what was inside the pond.

As he walked over to the water he could see a few koi fish flitting around in there. He sat down and lazily begun drawing invisible patterns into the water. Sometimes the fish would come close only to immediately swim away once they either saw the hand or felt the movement.

Eret was just standing dumbfounded to the side. Staring at Y/N which infuriated him. He could feel his dark eyes lingering on him and it just annoyed him. Eret finally shut up but now he was just standing there in uncomfortable silence.

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh “Stop doing that.”

Eret looked bewildered at that “Stop, what?”

“Staring! I can see you staring! I know I’m handsome but come on.” Y/N snickered at the last part.

This time Eret rolled his eyes “Nah, I was just thinking how easy it would be to push you into the water right now and was debating if it was worth getting into trouble for it.”

“And what did your small brain come up with?”

Eret walked over and sat down next to Y/N “It’s sadly not worth it. I feel like I would get in even more trouble than last time when I was destroying you in that food fight.”

Y/N angrily shook his head “Oh, no! I was winning! You were lucky my father literally pulled me away from you or you wouldn’t even be standing here right now!”

“You wish! Your father saved the small bit of dignity you have!”

Ignoring Eret’s attempt to obviously rile him up and make him more angry, Y/N turned now fully away from him and instead returned to watching the fish. They looked more interesting and had more personality than Eret anyhow.

It was also definitely easier to look at the animals than Eret. Every time he would look at him even only for a little bit this fuzzy anger inside the pit of Y/N’s stomach would come up and by god he hated it. Unbeknownst to him this feeling was mutual.

Eret almost seemed chuffed that Y/N didn’t seem to react and instead chose to follow him suit with watching the fish.

“If we are already stuck out here let’s make it at least interesting.” Y/N broke the silence “Let’s catch some fish. I’m betting I can catch more than you.”

Eret was already getting rid of his jacket and pushed his sleeves up “I doubt that!”

Not wasting time Y/N shed his jacket as well and rolled his sleeves up only to jump into the water himself once the fish stayed out of both their reaches due to their incessant punching into the water.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Not losing!” was all Y/N said.

Eret not feeling too keen on possibly losing, jumped into the pond as well, trying to ignore Y/N who was inadvertently splashing water his way.

As a bit of a payback Eret threw some water towards Y/N which resulted in him loosing a prime chance for trying to grab a fish.

Everything is allowed in love and war after all and this was definitely war.

Though this action led to Y/N retaliating with spraying water back on Eret. Soon the two didn’t care about the fish anymore and were too busy trying to wrestle the other under the water. It wasn’t a full blown fight, no real punches fell but there was a lot of pushing and pulling.

They only stopped once they heard a blood curdling scream. Apparently the noble who owned the garden saw them inside her pond and was obviously not too pleased with it.

Yeah, there was a lot of anger and screaming afterwards but for Y/N and Eret it just fueled their hatred toward each other. If the other one wasn’t there, then they wouldn’t have this problem in the first place but since this wasn’t the case all they could do as proper heirs to their respecting kingdoms was to make the others existence pain.

Over the years their rivalry became infamous and nobles who invited both to their festivities either tried to keep increased watch over them or to the detriment of both sides of the families, tried to incite them. Noble people where a strange lot, trying to find entertainment in the weirdest places.

Not that Y/N or Eret cared too much. They were too busy trying to screw the other over though their methods changed over the years. As kids they were more physical with it while the older they got they tended to use their words more and more to the relieve of their parents.

A good example for that was when both were about sixteen years old.

At this point they learned to rein in their anger towards the other and instead concentrated more or less on their royal duties. Well, they tried but every time they saw each other anger would just flood their systems.

It was a typical ball really. The nobles were busy mingling with each other, spreading false compliments in order to gain the political or social upper hand. Some called it an intricate game but Y/N thought it was just stupid. Just say what you think and don’t sugar coat it. That was something and maybe the only thing he and Eret could agree on. As much as he hated that guy he wasn’t scared to tell Y/N what he thought of him.

He appreciated him for that. A shiver ran down his spine as soon as that thought crossed his mind and Y/N just shoved it away. Never in his life would he actually appreciate that mad prince.

That said it was a bit weird how he hasn’t spotted Eret yet. Not that he was specifically looking out for him or anything. He just wanted to be aware where he was so he could avoid him. Was he invited? His family was here but he seemed to be gone. Maybe he finally gave up trying to one up Y/N and stayed home.

Y/N doubted that though. The only reason why Eret wouldn’t appear to something like this was if he was seriously sick. It happened only once and Y/N ended up being bored to death. So what if he derived entertainment from his rival? That’s a part of the reason what rivalries are for, right?

Spending so much time thinking about him made Y/N uncomfortable. This one feeling in the pit of his stomach just flared up again which he didn’t appreciate one bit. Just another reason why Eret was so annoying. He was the only person this happened with.

Bored out of his mind Y/N begun moving through the ball room. There was one place Eret could be hiding away at. If anything Y/N could predict some behavior from him over the years. Making sure to stay away from all the dancing people and the conversations, not feeling interested to take part in it. Instead he moved towards the gardens.

It was just the place he and Eret would default to since at the slightest chance of trouble the other nobles liked to throw them out immediately.

So when he spotted Eret walking around the rose bushes it didn’t completely surprise him.

“And here I thought I spied a birds nest in between the bushes but alas it is just Eret’s hair.”

Eret visibly flinched once he heard Y/N. Apparently he had been so busy with his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Y/N approaching him. He frowned at the other prince while he in return was just smirking smugly.

Sighing Eret walked over to a particular big rose and begun inspecting it“ And I thought I would finally be free of you. You arrived late, huh?”

“Hardly my fault, though I too was hoping you finally conceded and stayed home but here you are just staring at some roses like some hopeless romantic prince from some sort of fairy tale.”

When Eret didn’t immediately fire back and hesitated Y/N’s eyes widened “No! Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me you actually have a crush on someone! Who is the poor person?”

As he spoke the words out loud it felt like his chest was ablaze. Something about that thought rubbed him the wrong way. He just labelled it as a different way for his annoyance towards Eret to show up but it confused him nonetheless.

Realistically what did he care about his love affairs?

Finally Eret vehemently shook his head “No, nothing like that! Why was this where your mind went? I was just bored and am looking at the flowers. Even you can admit that they are pretty, right?” Eret chuckled “Or are you jealous somehow?”

“Only in your dreams.” Y/N responded with a disgusted expression on his face.

“Nightmares you mean.” Eret added before pulling one rose out of the bush.

Y/N looked around hoping none of the staff or someone else saw this “Dude, what the hell are you doing? If you get into trouble for stealing flowers and I’m around everyone will think I’m part of this.”

“They won’t notice, Y/N. Well, they will only notice it if you aren’t careful enough. You need to have an eye for such things and me begrudgingly knowing you as well as I do, you do not have an eye for that.”

This is always how it happens. Every god damn time. One of the two would make a statement that the other person couldn’t do a very specific thing and all bets were off.

A dangerous glint appeared in Y/N’s eyes “I’ll give you the most amazing rose bouquet without tipping anyone off.” He didn’t seem to realize what he just said but Eret did.

While Y/N turned around in order to scour out the place Eret was still standing in the back. A soft blush on his face. Almost angry with himself he frowned and turned to the opposite direction Y/N just went. He was just so frustrating to be around. Doesn’t even think before he speaks.

This whole endeavor took longer than both initially expected. Most of the time they would just saunter between the bushes only occasionally plucking a flower off. Often enough the two stood in front of the same rose, trying to act as fast as possible to get it before the other.

Eret clearly went for the flower first but once his hand touched the stem of the rose, Y/N was there as well, his hand brushing past Eret’s, holding onto the lower part of the stem.

“You’ve got be kidding me.” Y/N cursed.

Eret squinted his eyes as he looked at him “What do you mean? I went for it first! You still continued grabbing it like the brute you are!”

Y/N gasped in a fake display of disbelief. Acting like the biggest insult just got hurled towards him when in fact Eret has said worse things before or even the countless nobles who suffered damages due to their shenanigans.

Both stared at each other, not letting go off the rose. Their brows furrowed into deep scowls as they just continued staring at each other. Hoping that for some reason any kind of weakness would just magically appear or that someone will let go off the damn flower.

It was incredibly uncomfortable for the both of them. Y/N and Eret both stared directly into each other’s eyes. Pink dusted faces turned towards one another, not daring to move a muscle.

“God, I hate you so much.” Y/N grumbled.

Eret nodded “Believe me the feeling is mutual.”

After a few more seconds of staring and angry expressions they both let go at the same time.

There they stood. Two princes of enemy kingdoms holding each a small bouquet of roses with blushing faces.

If you would ask them about it they would immediately exclaim the blush was just a result of their anger bubbling out.

Eret let out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding “Tie?”

Y/N looked down at his own bouquet “Yeah, sure, let’s call it a tie. This is stupid anyhow.”

That was the last time they saw each other for a while.

Since they both were heirs to their respective thrones they soon got sent away to boarding schools in order to get properly trained for their future duties. Besides being educated and introduced what these duties actually entailed, they also got trained in the art of combat.

While most of, if not all, nobles learn how to fight it was something expected from Y/N and Eret. They had to get good at it. A tradition that still stemmed from the waring days of their competing nations.

So for the next four years Y/N was sent away to a boarding school inside his own nation, only later hearing that Eret befell the same fate, which didn’t surprise him.

The years dragged on rather slowly. Most of the subjects were boring but Y/N realized they were important so he put himself through the grueling task of proper studying. The daily training sessions helped him immensely by bringing some sort of change to his every day and tended to look forward to them. Mostly since he became good friends with his coach. A mercenary hired by his family to train him.

Becoming a friend to him, while others tried stay away from Y/N. Most didn’t dare to approach the only heir of their kingdom, others knew he was a bit of a troublemaker and stayed away from him because of it.

Y/N caught himself missing Eret from time to time. While he was annoying and infuriating at best, Y/N couldn’t help but think it was more enjoyable than spending his time alone surrounded by people around his age.

Every now and again his thoughts would always jump back to Eret. Hell, he even once considered writing him a letter before he stopped in his tracks, realizing what he was about to do. Silently chastising himself for it.

Y/N graduated when he was twenty. His parents amazed by his progress threw compliments towards his improved behavior.

“Guess Prince Eret was the problem all along.” His mother noted.

He scoffed, of course Eret was the majority of the reason for the problems. His mother only needed to mention him and Y/N already felt the same annoyance from back then again. Guess some things never change.

It was the time for a lot of nobles to graduate so one family took it up on themselves to prepare a grand ball in order to celebrate these young adults. It also helped to bring all the heirs and influential people together to form new relationships that could be beneficial for their future rule.

Y/N got invited as well.

As a graduation gift his parents bought him fancy new clothes made out of the finest cloth. While he thought it was a bit over the top, it was comfortable so he didn’t complain too much. They even fashioned him with a ceremonial crown that complimented the whole outfit quite nicely.

It was only then that it really sunk in what this all meant for him. He had to act proper no matter what from now on. While people were always aware of him, now they were really watching. This also meant he had to start to properly get into contact with other influential families and nations which meant he had to actually dance on this ball.

So when he and his family stepped out of the wagon that brough them to this event, his heart was beating fast. Y/N was nervous and yet he still managed to put on a confident smile. He didn’t go through all these etiquette classes without learning a few things at least.

When he walked into the ball room, a servant announced his and his families arrival which caused a lot of people to turn their heads. It was the first official outing of an heir to an incredibly strong nation, of course they wanted to see what he was like.

In fact it didn’t take long until Y/N got swarmed by multiple people talking courteously and making conversation with him. He returned the gestures and mingled with the others, curious to see if anyone interesting was here. It was the first time in a long time people didn’t seem to avoid him, even if it was purely for the purpose of forming new beneficial connections.

It beat sitting around alone.

Y/N slowly scanned the huge room with his eyes that’s when he spied something that made his heart figuratively jump into his throat.

In the corner stood someone tall with a shock of brown and fluffy hair that got pushed down by a crown. He wore an amazing suit made out of silk and with a variant of different purples completed with something that resembled a cape. As he talked to the person in front of him he had this huge, genuine, beautiful smile on his face that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

He was handsome that’s all he could say about him. Knocking all the air out of Y/N’s lungs.

Pressing his hand against his madly blushing face Y/N tried to look like he was deep in thought and not just silently checking out this one person way off in the corner.

“Be still my beating heart.” Y/N mumbled as he pressed his free hand on his chest. Feeling his heart beating fast and hard against his ribcage. Luckily no one heard him but he did receive a few worried and confused looks. Guess he wasn’t as sneaky about his display of emotions as he had thought.

Y/N took a deep breath in and coughed in order to calm himself down a bit “I’m sorry to interrupt you all, but I need to go. I need to find something out. It was an honor talking with you and I hope we can continue this later on.”

With all the confidence he didn’t have Y/N slowly made his way towards that person. Something was just pulling him towards him and he needed to at least know his name. It was like his heart and mind both yelled at Y/N.

While walking he could tell that his breath was short. He felt hot and he was certain that his face was still in a lovely shade of red.

Did he just develop a probably one sided crush? Perhaps.

Once he got close enough, he begun to tremble. His knees felt weak and by god he wanted to turn around but something in him just forced him to move on. As if this was his only chance to ever exchange even a word with that stranger.

Y/N was about to put on a polite smile and wave towards him but the stranger was faster and turned towards him.

The stranger audibly and unmistakably gasped. His eyes wide open as his face suddenly turned into a similar shade of red to Y/N.

“Hello.” Y/N begun speaking. He wanted to introduce himself but his voice failed him. Throat and lips dry out of nervousness.

“Y/N?” he spoke with a deep, soothing voice and Y/N had to admit he liked hearing his name coming out of his mouth.

Wait that handsome stranger knew him?

That’s when it hit him. But that can’t be! That was impossible, he would have recognized him immediately!

“Oh. Eret?”

Y/N put his hand against his mouth trying to hide the smile and blush. Why was he feeling like this? Why wasn’t his typical white anger returning? He still had that fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach but something felt different. Maybe it was the maturity from the years or maybe he just imagined it.

Eret was madly blushing and just staring at Y/N as he slowly lifted up his trembling hand “Let’s talk. Would you care for a dance?”

That feeling in his stomach increased as well as the beating of his heart and yet Y/N put his hand into that of Eret’s. Together they walked towards the middle of the room. Slowly beginning to dance.

Y/N was at this point biting his lip. He wanted to talk, say anything but his mind was running in overdrive. No proper sentences would form. Luckily some sort of muscle memory jumped in when it came to the dancing but everything else? No, he was completely screwed.

Why now? Why was he reacting like this?

“You look like you are doing well.” Eret suddenly spoke. His voice trembling almost as much as his hands.

Y/N nodded as he continued moving in tandem with Eret. Their feet skillfully moving around on the dance floor.

“You look good, uh, I mean, you look alright as well, you do look good but I mean you seem to be doing good as well.” After Y/N stammered that out he mentally begun cursing himself out.

He used to wrestle Eret into the mud, why is this happening to him? Why can’t he just go back to his anger, that was easier to deal with. Wait, is that the reason why their anger towards each other held on for so long? Sure, their families had always a rivalry but over time something must have subtly changed concerning their relationship that it managed to end up like this.

Y/N felt like a lovesick pre-teen and he hated it.

Eret suddenly let out a short laugh “I’m guessing you didn’t expect this as well?”

Y/N raised his eyebrows “I- I have no idea what you mean. Like, seriously, what exactly of this do you mean?” Of course his nervousness showed itself via him ranting his thoughts off.

“Us meeting like this again.”

“Seeing our past track record I feel like it was inevitable, though this time it certainly does feel different.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Eret smirked and gave Y/N a wink only to end up turning back into a blushing mess himself.

Now Y/N begun to chuckle, his blush ever present on his face, he pressed his forehead against Eret’s shoulder. Trying his best to hide his face from his view, not willing to give Eret the satisfaction that he succeeded in whatever the hell he just did.

Instead of stopping the two continued to dutifully dance. The best way for a private conversation was while dancing after all but the two were too busy snickering at themselves.

While Y/N had his head still pressed against Eret, Eret spoke up “I’m glad you are here, Y/N. Meeting you here like that again after these years, it made me realize something.”

“Like what?” The same was true of him, of course but he was almost scared of saying it out loud.

Y/N looked back up again but Eret hesitated. His eyes landed on Y/N’s lips only to immediately snap back up to his eyes.

So when he asked “May I?” Y/N knew exactly what he meant.

He gave him a nod which resulted in the two stopping to dance. Eret placed one of his hands against Y/N’s jawline and the other continued to rest at his side as he closed the space between their lips. At first softly brushing their lips for a small second but then Eret went back in pressing his lips properly on Y/N’s only to separate after a few moments.

Y/N put his hands on Eret’s chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart beneath his fingertips “I thought you hated me.” He noted smugly.

Eret laughed “I guess we both were wrong in some way.” He immediately dove back into Y/N’s lips, deepening the kiss, ignoring the confused and surprised noises from all the other guests.

[ekaterinatepes]

Nothing but the Best

XIII.

(Part 3/3)

He hurried to his seat only grabbing a glass of champagne before he disappeared behind the curtains to the VIP area. Satoru was certain Suguru would be here to see you and he wanted to avoid confrontations.

Once in the privacy of his balcony he sat down and sighed, he was nervous. It wasn’t like you were going to see him and yet his heart wouldn’t stop beating erratically thinking about the fact he would be so close to you and watch you do what you love the most.

Finally after almost half an hour everyone was seated and the curtains were lifted. The story unfolded before his eyes. He has seen this piece before, you performed as Clara back in Tokyo but in this occasion you were the alluring Sugar Plum, even the part fitted your sweet personality. When you finally appeared on the stage he moved closer to the edge of the balcony, his heart melted once more and he was reminded of how absolutely gorgeous you were. He was… enamored with you once more. Your grace, precision and artistry was remarkable. You had gotten so much better since the last time he watched you perform. Satoru was speechless as you executed a sequence of pirouettes en chaîne. Followed by a pas de chat. The whole scene was spectacular.

By the end of the performance he was standing up, clapping with a huge smile across his lips. You had been perfect. He was proud of how far you have come. Regardless of how you felt about Satoru he had come to terms with the fact he would always love you and would always support your dreams. You deserved the world, even if it wasn’t by his side.

Gojo wanted to go to you and talk to you but it would not be a good idea. More than anything he was scared thinking about how you would look at him. What if the next time both met you didn’t feel anything for him anymore. Satoru wouldn’t be able to stand it if he saw it in your beautiful e/c eyes.

Sighing he grabbed the single red rose he brought in with him and warped to your changing room before the dancers came back. There was a sign with the name Ekaterina Petrova on the first door down the hall backstage. He entered it and immediately was welcomed by your smell. Costumes hanging in an open closet. Your bag, regular clothes, ballet shoes and a vanity filled with make up and hair styling tools. Swallowing hard he walked to the vanity and settled the red rose for you but before he left he couldn’t help but steal the red scarf hanging on the back rest of the rolling chair in front of the mirror.

He warped back to the balcony where he sat down and buried his face on your scarf. Your scent could not compare to the perfume he used back home on his bed. You smell was a mix of your perfume of roses but there was also hints of honey, and something else… something sweet that was part of your person. Making your aroma impossible to emulate.

Stroking the fabric he thought longingly about you. He needed to see you, just once more… once more, he promised himself and then he would leave you be. Just… one more time.

He warped to the rooftop of the building next to yours and waited for you to get home. You got out of a cab alone and then walked in. You were alone. How strange, wasn’t Suguru with you this evening? Or was he waiting at home for you? But he lights in your apartment were all out. Removing his sunglasses he couldn’t perceive the raven haired sorcerer’s energy. He wasn’t home, maybe he was away in a mission.

A part of his mind screamed it was the PERFECT opportunity to see you! There was no Suguru around to interfere this time. Satoru groaned, he promised he would leave you alone and wouldn’t try to bother you but… it was so hard, having you so close and yet so far. Would you be mad at him if he showed up at your door? Would you kick him out in the cold?

Biting his lower lip he decided just to watch you for now. Staying away was not without effort but he tried his best.

Gojo watched you go through regular routine, you went for a shower and after that you walked out with your wet hair and a set of flannel pajamas into the kitchen where you poured a glass of red wine for yourself. Once more you disappeared down the corridor and he was sad to think maybe you went to bed and wouldn’t be able to see you again but you showed up on the roof top of your building. Leaning on the edge you sighed « Happy Birthday Satoru » he heard you whisper to the wind and only then Gojo realized today was his birthday… you still remembered. You still thought about him!

Fuck it!

He warped behind you, watching you from a few feet away, he didn’t want to startle you when you were so close to the edge of a very tall building so he waited for you to turn around. When you did your eyes opened wide and your glass slipped your fingers. He caught it with his infinity preventing it from spilling and breaking in a million pieces.

Panic washed over your features and before you could run Satoru stepped in front of you not touching you but still trying to prevent you from leaving « please, don’t run away from me… y/n, I’m not here to hurt you… I just… wanted to see you. Nothing else, I promise » his tender tone and kind eyes told you he was honest « wh.. why are you here? » you asked trying to control yourself. But he could almost heart your heart racing while you looked at him “ I came to see your performance tonight…” he confessed his little secret “you were absolutely spectacular Y/N! I don’t think I have ever seen you dance like that… it was… beautiful” he added with a little smile “th… thank you” you answered with a blush.

-

What the fuck! Oh my god! What is he doing here!? Your thoughts raced through you mind a thousand miles per second.

As much as you convinced yourself you were over your ex husband you couldn’t help the reaction of your body. There was still a big part of you that instinctually reacted to his presence. You were actually excited to see him.

“How… have you been?” He asked you “I’m… alright, I’ve been….fine” you admitted “how about you?” Could this be the first steps you took to heal? Maybe trying to be civil instead of running away from him “I… uh… not as well as you” he admitted with a boyish and bashful grin taking a hand behind his neck scratching it. “You know… same old, same old” of course if you considered the fact he lived in misery, thinking about you all the time and missing you in his life like a lovesick fool. Yeah, same old. Same story since you left.

“I… uh… good, it’s good to know you are alright” you added awkwardly. How was one supposed to treat a person who was everything in your life once but now was not even part of it. There was something utterly bizarre about acting so detached with a man who had seen, touched and fucked every inch of your body for about 6 years of your life! And now you both played your part as polite acquaintances.

“Where is Suguru?” The curiosity was killing him “He had a mission in Portland, he had to leave for a couple of days” you answered honestly “I see…” Satoru didn’t want to cut his time with you but his brain wasn’t cooperating, he needed an excuse… anything to just spend some more time with you before you kicked him out again. Fuck! God! Anything! Please! He didn’t want to leave you, not yet… just a little longer. But he didn’t know what to do or say to buy himself more time.

“S… Satoru… would you like to come in for a glass of wine?” You asked shyly. It was his birthday after all. He could have been anywhere in the world he wanted in this day. Hell! He could have been partying the night away in a club in Tokyo, instead he was here. He came to watch you dance… half way across the world.

“YES!” He replied too enthusiastically “I… I mean yeah, thank you I would like that” if he was a dog he would be wagging his tail by now. He followed you inside and took a seat next to you at the kitchen table after you poured him a glass “I know you don’t really like wine because it’s too bitter but I don’t have champagne” you offered a little apologetic smile “don’t worry about that! It’s alright… I can enjoy a glass of wine here and there” he replied taking a sip with a smile. He couldn’t believe you actually invited him in, he must have died and gone to heaven!

“Happy birthday…” you say softly looking into his beautiful cerulean eyes. Satoru smiled tenderly at you and looked at you with absolute adoration “thank you….” There was no other place in the world he would rather be right now, no other person he would rather see. This place and this moment meant everything to him.

The intensity of his gaze made you blush and look away. “I… have some red velvet cupcakes… would you like one?” Gojo nodded enthusiastically “I would love one” he watched you stand up and walk to to the fridge where you pulled out a plastic container with cupcakes. You placed it on the table and offered him one. He took it from your hands making sure his fingers touched yours in the exchange. Pure thrill electrified his body when he felt the warmth of your fingers on his skin. You looked into his eyes, he knew you felt it too but the moment was broken when you pulled your hand back and hurried to sit back across from him. “Thank you…” he took a bite of his desert and moaned in delight. He recognised the flavour of your recipe. You baked those yourself. “This is amazing Y/N” he praised your cooking with a delighted moan as he finished his cupcake and then went for another. You chuckled, some things never change. Satoru’s sweet tooth was the same as it had always been.

“Thank you… I tried a couple different ingredients this time” you confess making the white haired sorcerer swoon “it’s fantastic” you were fantastic. God! He had missed you so much! Fuck… seeing you so close, breathing you in, having you at his reach was killing him. He wanted to close the distance and wrap you in his arms.

A sudden movement from the corner of his eye alerted him of something climbing on his lap. He almost jumped out of his skin before he made sense of what it was. A little meow told him a feline had decided to make him his seat “and who is this?” Satoru asked petting the chubby and cute tabby cat that was now making itself comfortable on his lap “oh! Sorry about that! That’s Kiky,” he smiled and looked at the cat who was now purring “don’t worry… you know I love cats” he added chuckling, the gesture made your heart warm. “she usually is not this nice to anyone other than me…” your little kitten was even a little wary of Suguru. Geto explained it was because of his technique, he had too much chaotic cursed energy contained within him out of consuming curses which in exchange made cats not like him. Satoru on the other hand had a more stable flux of cursed energy that was an inherent part of himself which in exchange attracted felines to him.

“Well I am glad Kiky approves of me” at least someone in your household did! That was progress… right?

After that you both talked about cats while Kiky slept on Satoru’s lap, he kept letting the animal while your conversation went well into the night. It was as if an unspoken truce have been settled between the both of you. Talking about your career and his missions, a little bit about movies and shows you both watched, connecting in an innocent way.

“It’s getting late…” you said looking at your phone which read 2:33am “y… yeah, I should probably go back to the hotel and let you rest…” he said in a deflated tone. He didn’t want to leave but he knew he had to give you your space. “Thank you for the wine and the cupcakes” Satoru said while carefully moving the sleeping Kiky to the couch “of course… you are welcome” you said walking to the door with him. Satoru stopped and turned around to look at you. He wanted to close the distance between you both and kiss you with all his might. He couldn’t do that, he had to respect you. But he couldn’t help himself when he pulled you in for a hug. You were frozen for a minute before you replied wrapping you arms softly around his waist. “Thank you Y/N” you heard him say “Happy Birthday” you whispered once more before the sorcerer pulled back reluctantly “thank you” it was the best way he could have celebrated this date. With you.

By the time he got back to the hotel he went to bed with a huge smile on his face. Best birthday present ever, he got to spend it with you.

———> Chapter 14

Tags: @sleepyamaya

@cloudsinthecosmos

@jxvajxy

@okkotsuoasis

@my-reality-is-in-my-head

@dok-ja

@jscarlet06

@fiona782

@thatsharklovingwoman

@heichoustheoryofcleanliness

@syynnaaah

@shaylove418

@coldvillainess

@vampgguk

@sukuna1stwife

@tampon-earrings

@actualdeemon

@janenks

[triggerhappyimagines]

can i ask for a one shot of byakuya trying to apologize to his s/o, after the second class trial, because they thought what he did to toko and chihiro was disgusting? in any way trying to make it up to them.

i’ve actually sort of been wanting to write something like this for a while, so thank you for giving me an opportunity to do so, anon! i can’t help but feel like this ended up not being my best work, though, but i hope you enjoy it anyways, dear!

additionally, i personally headcanon that Byakuya is a huge sweetheart in terms of romance/being in a relationship, and when he and his s/o are alone, he gets all lovey-dovey and soft with them, so i kinda ended up including this in the imagine, i hope you don’t mind!!

☆Mod Nagito☆

Word count: 1848

Warnings: spoilers for trigger happy havoc

The second class trial had ended, and the heavy weight of despair hung over you and the rest of your surviving classmates. Your lower lip trembled, the sight of poor Chihiro’s corpse burned into your mind, and being forced to witness Mondo’s execution didn’t make you feel any better. They were both... so nice. Chihiro may have been one of the most caring people you’d ever met, and though Mondo seemed scary, he had been nothing but kind to you. It was all so painful. You pressed your fingers against your eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from pouring out, but it was no use.

Soon, everyone began to file out of the class trial room, though you stayed standing where you were. You hadn’t slept at all the night after the first trial, and you were certain you wouldn’t be able to rest tonight, either. An even heavier silence washed over the room as, one by one, everyone took their leave. It was just you, Taka, and Byakuya now. Since the start of the killing game, you had found yourself drawn to Byakuya, and had even started sleeping in his dorm room since the night Monokuma provided the first motive. Though you had made other friends, nobody was closer to you than he was. You loved him, or at least, you thought you did. You weren’t so sure about that anymore, after his actions came to light during the trial. He stood beside you, close enough to place a hand on your back, or squeeze your hand - anything to comfort you, really - but he didn’t. You weren’t sure you wanted him to in the first place.

"Just... head upstairs without me." You mumbled, turning your gaze back towards Taka, who hadn’t moved an inch since the execution ended. Not giving Byakuya a chance to respond, you trudged towards Taka.

You could see tears streaming out of the poor boy’s eyes, his body racking with sobs. He didn’t wipe them away. It very well could have been impossible to do so anyways, given the rate they poured down his cheeks. You had never seen him so upset, and he was... one of the most emotional people you knew.

"Are you okay?" You asked him, though it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that he clearly was anything but. Taka’s only response was another sob. "Don’t stay down here too long, alright?" You placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, before turning to head back to the dorms. A pit grew in your stomach as you continued to wonder how you were going to manage being in Byakuya’s presence after what he had done.

You had managed to stop crying, for the most part, by the time you arrived back upstairs near the dorm rooms. You had been hoping to just sneak past Byakuya’s room and spend the night by yourself, but he had decided to wait for you in the hallway. You didn’t feel like starting a fight, so when you approached him, you allowed him to kiss your forehead in a silent demonstration of his love for you.

"You look tired." Byakuya stated, his voice soft, his expression more warm than usual.

"I’m... exhausted." You replied, though it was clear to him that you were struggling with more than just fatigue. He didn’t question you, though.

"Let’s go to bed, then." He whispered in your ear, pulling you close to him. You rested your head against his chest, feeling conflicted. You were so angry with him, but at the same time, you wanted him to hold you, to kiss you and tell you everything would be alright. You were so confused, so conflicted, it was almost enough to make you cry again.

"I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight." You muttered, freeing yourself from his embrace, deciding you didn’t want him to touch you right now.

"Do you want me to stay up with you?" He questioned as he led you down the hall towards his dorm. You nodded, but didn’t say a word; you were too busy wondering how you were going to confront him about what he’d done to Chihiro and Toko.

You sat down on the edge of the small bed situated in the middle of the room, staring at the floor. The beds in the dorms weren’t intended to be slept in by more than one person, but you had never really minded squeezing yourself next to Byakuya under the covers. You enjoyed being so close to him. He always held you close; you always felt safe in his arms. He had wanted you to let him be your protector, though right now you weren’t sure if you even wanted to be near him anymore. You glanced back up to see him taking off his suit jacket and tie, leaving him in just his button up shirt. He ran his fingers through his soft blonde hair. Somehow, he seemed unaffected by the class trial.

"Byakuya? Can... can we talk?" You said suddenly, deciding you needed to just confront him and get it over with. He looked down at you, his deep blue eyes meeting yours.

"Of course, love," He knelt down in front of you, placing his large hands atop yours, which rested on your knees. You were shaking, but you didn’t know why you were so nervous. It shouldn’t have felt so hard to talk to the person you loved so much, right? "Are you okay?"

The simple question was enough to make you burst into tears, sadness and fury washing over you. This wasn’t the first time Byakuya had seen you cry, but you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed for getting so emotional. Had it been anyone else in your position, he would have chided them for being so immature. Sometimes you didn’t understand why he treated you differently, why you of all people were worthy of his affection.

"No, I’m not okay!" You snapped, angry tears still sliding down your cheeks. You pulled your knees up to your chest, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. "How... How could you, Byakuya? How could you?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, (Y/N), but if I did something to hurt you, I-" Byakuya started, concern written across his face.

"You know damn well what I’m talking about; don’t even try to act all innocent with me because I’m not buying it!" You were yelling now, and for once, you were thankful the walls in the dorms were soundproof.

"You’re not mad about the class trial, are you?"

"What the hell else would I be mad about? How could do that to Chihiro - to my friend?! What did you even gain from that? Are you really that much of a selfish prick?!" Byakuya didn’t respond, his expression unreadable. "Why would you ever think it would be okay to do something so... so disgusting for your own entertainment? Why, Byakuya? Why?"

"I’m sorry, darling. I didn't think that-"

"Saying sorry can’t undo what you did!" You wiped your nose, which had started to run due to how hard you were crying. "I just... I thought you were better than that. I thought I knew who you really were, but I’m not so sure anymore, Byakuya."

"(Y/N), I... I truly am sorry." He muttered, taking a seat beside you. "You mean so much to me. I never intended to hurt you, my love."

"I just don’t understand why you would do that to Chihiro, a-and Toko... You knew you were hurting them, so why would you-"

"Because I’m selfish." He cut you off. You met his gaze, confused, wondering if he was trying to bait you into telling him that he wasn’t. "You’re right, (Y/N), what I did was wrong. There’s no way for me to justify it, but I want you to know that if I had known how much it would hurt you, I wouldn’t have done what I did."

"I just feel like I don’t know who you are at all, Byakuya." You sniffled, still crying, but not as much as you were a few moments ago. "I thought that, since you’re always so good to me, that maybe your rude, arrogant attitude towards everyone else was just an act, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s the other way around."

Byakuya pulled you into his arms, and you rested your chin on his shoulder. "It’s not an act. None of it is. My love for you, my absolute adoration for you, that’s not an act. I mean every word I’ve ever said to you. I love you, (Y/N), and that’s the truth. But I’m still, as you put it, a ‘selfish prick.’ I’m rude, I look down on people, and sometimes I don’t even try to be nice. And... that’s also part of who I am. I’m not proud of it, but that’s the truth. I suppose I haven’t been as honest with you as I should have been, and for that I apologize. I never meant to hurt you, to confuse you, to make you feel lied to. You mean so much to me, (Y/N), I-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips firmly against his, tears no longer streaming down your cheeks. Byakuya kissed you back, passionately, his strong arms squeezing your figure tightly, as if he was afraid you would slip away from him if he didn’t hold on to you. He melted into your touch, and if there was ever any doubt of his love for you, his shy, tender kisses and the soft sighs escaping his lips as he sank into your affections defeated it.

Breathless, Byakuya pulled away, his hands still placed around your waist, cheeks flushed. He rested his forehead against yours, the corners of his lips upturned into a sweet smile.

"I truly never intended to hurt you, darling." He started, his voice soft, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I want to make it up to you, and I never want to hurt you again. I want..." He trailed off, stumbling over his words a bit. "I want to be the one to dry your tears when you’re upset, not the one who makes you cry."

"Byakuya, I..." You sighed, trying to find the right words to say. "I don’t know if I can forgive you yet. I want to, but I’m not sure I’m ready."

"I understand. But I want to fix this, (Y/N), however I can."

"Just try to be better, okay? For me."

Byakuya nodded. "For you."

You placed your lips against his once more, entrapping him in a soft, tender kiss. He scooped you up in his arms and laid down, holding you close to him. You rested your head against his chest, feeling at ease in his embrace.

"I love you, Byakuya." You muttered, sighing contentedly.

"I love you, too." He answered, kissing the top of your head. "More than words could ever say."

[wolf-and-bard]

*Giggles at all of your cute chaos cousins posts* *Imagines Ciri’s royal family meeting her Witcher family* I was just wondering if you might wanna write a little something to satisfy my craving for some everyone lives fluff? ❤️ I’m honestly just imagining sweet sea hound Eist meeting and making friends with the wolf boys XD

My friend ♥️ Do excuse the long wait, my brain was not in the mood for fluff for a bit there. This did turn out rather silly, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway! Maybe don't take it too seriously 😂

Everyone lives family-floof (with some vaguely implied Lambskel), rated T, 3.1k. Enjoy!

„Welcome, welcome,“ the crashing mine-cart voice of Crach en Craite boomed up the gangway which Geralt treaded lightly, Ciri clinging to his backside. The girl had slept through half of their ship’s journey and was still softly snoring. Geralt could feel drool against his neck, but he didn’t mind so much with her. It made him bite down on a smile as he set foot on the wooden planks of the dock.

The air around them was filled with the general clamour of Ard Skellig’s harbour, people that embarked and disembarked from various vessels, traders that carried wares to and fro, merchants that advertised their wares, children that spent their lazy afternoons watching the various ships dock.

Nothing of the wars with Nilfgaard had reached the Skellige Isles, not a single galley of the Black Ones, nor yet a spark of the fires that consumed the Northern Kingdoms. Nothing of the wars had reached their host either. Crach stood as a proud and stout warrior with open arms and a stately set of his shoulders, smiling broadly through his thick beard.

“Well met, Jarl,” Geralt said.

„Geralt of Rivia,“ he hollered and laughed and came up to Geralt to greet him before he noticed Ciri on his back. „By Freya, if it isn’t my dear cousin.“ Ciri perked up at that, and laughed when she saw the low bow Crach was giving her. She tugged on Geralt’s hair and he let her down with a grunt.

“Cousin Crach,” she squealed and barrelled into him under his thunderous laughter.

Geralt crossed his arms and smiled as the two of them hugged out their reunion, Crach bent low to wrap his huge arms around Ciri’s body, still small in spite of all the training she had done under the witchers’ careful instruction. Speaking of which…

“Man, this place stinks,” Lambert complained as he joined Geralt on the dock. His face was slightly pale, had taken on a greenish taint, and he wore a constant scowl. “Please don’t tell me all they have to eat is fish, I’d kill for a roasted chicken leg right now.”

“Fine, I won’t tell you,” Eskel said and he too took up position on Geralt’s side. Vesemir was the last to leave the ship, having chatted with the captain about sightings of rare sea creatures all journey long, and he looked as vivacious and happy as Lambert looked annoyed and sickly. A flush was spread over his cheeks and a bounce suffused his step making him seem younger than the lot of them which was a ridiculous notion. Geralt huffed, and jostled Lambert lightly.

“Fuck off!” the youngest wolf yapped and jostled him right back.

“I brought my family,” Ciri announced when she wound out of Crach’s embrace and her eyes glittered, a sea-weed green under the afternoon sun which hung in a cloudless sky. Her chest swelled in pride as she waved Crach over to introduce them.

“You know Geralt of course,” she said and Crach and Geralt exchanged another nod. Crach winked and Geralt bit down on his laughter. “The greatest witcher to ever walk the Continent!”

“I have a thing or two to say to that,” Vesemir huffed.

“You’re right, the second-greatest witcher to ever walk the Continent. Vesemir taught him,” Ciri explained and Crach saluted Vesemir loosely, then turned to the other two.

“These are my uncles Eskel and Lambert.”

“Not your uncle, kiddo,” Lambert grumbled.

“As you can see, Uncle Lambert is a massive killjoy. But he can be fun if he wants to be, he taught me how to make bombs.”

Geralt waited for the realization to hit Crach, the sudden understanding that having this girl live with four witchers of all people might have been the worst thing to happen to her, and that he should have them all executed for their crimes against the crown. But Crach only chuckled which, if anything, made Lambert even more suspicious. Geralt could see it in his narrowed eyes.

“Uncle Eskel is the best cook ever and he’s so strong. He once carried me and Uncle Lambert to bed when we fell asleep playing Gwent on the battlements. He makes a super strong herbal tea and he knows all about the weirdest kinds of monsters, those even witchers get to fight rarely. But don’t cross him, I hear his Axiis can knock you right out.”

“They can,” Eskel said, a faint blush clinging to his cheeks. “But so can my fists. Thank you for having us, Jarl.”

“I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about, but I’m sure these men are great people and fine company. Welcome to all of you and my sincerest thanks for taking my cousin in. Her family is ours also and shall be welcomed on Ard Skellig henceforth. Please, dear witchers, follow me, there is much ale to toast with and a few other people that should like to make your acquaintance. Our servants have prepared a royal feast in your honour.”

“Royal feast, who gives a shit. Don’t think we will be wooed by manners and wine,” Lambert muttered and Crach laughed. “We’re only here because the brat was nagging us about it.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Lambert,” Ciri said and batted her lashes at him. “There’ll be beer and cuss words and all the types of fish you can imagine, it’ll be right up your alley.”

“Call me uncle one more time,” Lambert said through his teeth and Eskel drew an arm around his shoulder to pull him close, then whispered something into his ear which Vesemir and Geralt heard, but the others couldn’t. Lambert flushed red, Eskel smirked, and Vesemir scowled at them. Geralt shook his head, biting down on an amused smile.

“We would love to join you in the keep,” he said. Ciri beamed at him, and so did Crach. Lambert was suspiciously quiet all the way up.

---

The moment Crach threw open the grand double doors at the end of the bridge that led into the entrance hall of Ard Skellig’s keep, a blur of reds and browns came shooting from a dark corner and barrelled straight into Ciri, knocking her over. All four witchers fell into various fighting stances immediately, their focus trailed on the heap of limbs on the floor, but as soon as Ciri’s excited giggles echoed through the great space, they relaxed.

“Cerys,” Ciri laughed and they tumbled about on the floor, Ciri and a girl that was no more than a couple years younger than she. She had flaming red hair and wore a version of Crach’s armour, adjusted to fit her still growing body. The girl grappled with Ciri, then tried to pin her down, but Ciri’s training kicked in – Geralt noticed her perfect execution of a manoeuvre that flipped their positions – and she gained the upper hand. Cerys stared up at her, wide-eyed, then burst into laughter that too matched the thunder of her father. It was amazing, coming from such a small person.

“You,” Cerys hissed between hiccups of laughter. “You abandoned me. You promised to be here for my birthday, but you abandoned me for what? This group of stinky old men?” She glared at the witchers, or tried to, but her eyes spelled mirth.

“We’re not adopting another child,” Lambert said and Eskel jostled him. Vesemir and Crach were both smiling into their beards.

“My darling Cerys,” Ciri said and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, the cheeks, the nose. Cerys howled in dismay and wriggled in Ciri’s grip, all in good humour. “How you’ve grown.” With that, Ciri let her go and pulled her cousin up with her. The girls regared each other for a long moment, then fell into a bear hug.

Geralt watched them, arms crossed, and felt his heart warm at the sight. He hadn’t realized prior to this trip, stupidly hadn’t realized, how much family Ciri still had, how many connections to the world. When he’d taken her in, the only thing on his mind had been getting her to safety. He’d thought she had no one left and now here she was, a bright young girl, on her way to become the first ever female witcher, with two families to call her own. There were doubts there too, of course. Should he have brought her here in the first place?

“You did good with her, wolf,” Vesemir said as he came up to Geralt’s side and placed a light hand on his bicep.

“We all did, even Lambert,” Geralt said. “But maybe it’s time to give her back to the world?”

“She would have your cock sizzling over a campfire for that if you even implied it.” Geralt’s eyes widened and he stared at Vesemir. Vesemir had his gaze fixed on the still hugging girls, but his moustache twitched. “She’s one of us now, Geralt.”

Geralt accepted that in silence. Right then, his ears pricked up as he heard two more people approach from a stairway to the right. One of them Geralt recognized instantly in his proud bearing and his weathered face. Eist Tuirseach, former Jarl of Skellige, King of the fallen country of Cintra, always bore himself with pride, nobility and mischief woven about his person like an invisible cloak. Geralt liked the old sea bear, even though he’d only met the man briefly at his and Calanthe’s betrothal. The day Geralt had claimed Ciri as his child surprise. He saw Geralt and nodded slightly, then his eyes fell to Ciri – who had finally let go of Cerys – and they widened, lips parting in a gasp as though, up until now, he hadn’t quite believed she would come.

“Cirilla,” he said, oh so quietly, but she heard. She’d been wintering with wolves, she heard. And in an instant, she was across the space between them, had hurled herself into his arms. Ciri shrank then, back into the girl Geralt had first picked up in the middle of the war and Eist’s eyes filled with tears as he crouched down to envelop her in his arms which were clad in furs. He buried his face in her hair and both sobbed quietly.

“Who is he?” Eskel asked under his breath.

“Her grandfather,” Geralt replied to put it simple. Titles would mean nothing to Eskel, nor to Lambert. His brothers actually cared as much about politics as Geralt pretended to care about them which was nothing at all.

“I had not known King Eist had survived the war,” Vesemir said to Crach. The two warriors were standing off to the side, heads tucked together while Eskel stood with Geralt and Lambert… Lambert sat cross-legged on the floor, caught in a staring match with little Cerys. In all of that, the broad but hunched figure of what Geralt assumed was Cerys’ brother, got lost somehow. He stood close to Eist, eyes trailed at the ground. Geralt dismissed him as unthreatening and insignificant, and refocused his attention to Eist and Ciri who were still holding onto each other as though the White Frost was about to sweep over the lands and they could only fend it off by hugging. Something barbed lodged in Geralt’s throat at the sight. He swallowed it down. He was not Ciri’s father.

As if she could sense his distress, Ciri detached herself and walked back to the wolves, beckoning Eist to come along.

“You’ve got to meet them all,” she said to the old king. “You can’t imagine what they’re like.”

“I really can’t,” Eist said. There was a healthy flush on his cheeks and he wouldn’t meet Geralt’s eyes. It was a good thing because if he had, they might have just both lost it over Ciri’s antics. It was like she’d de-aged by half a decade, childish excitement replacing the determined wolf she’d become.

“You have met Geralt. And this next to him is Eskel, my favourite uncle,” Ciri expained and Eist and Eskel shook hands.

“Hey, I heard that!” Lambert called and Cerys whooped, having won the staring match upon Lambert’s indignant outcry.

“I thought you weren’t my uncle,” Ciri retorted and they spent a moment sticking their tongues out at each other as Eskel and Eist briefly chatted about the sea journey to which Geralt hummed along. It was a lot, all these people in a room together, and he had expected them to clash, but somehow… it worked out.

At first, they’d all thought it was a terrible idea. They’d gotten word from the Skellige Isles, a coded message that had contained an invitation for the witchers and Ciri – if the rumours of her survival should be true – to sail to Ard Skellig and stay with the an Craites who’d become part of her family by her grandmother’s marriage to Crach’s uncle.

Vesemir had been completely against it, Eskel had refrained from commenting on the matter and simply gotten ready for another year on the Path, Lambert had kept spewing all the reasons why they shouldn’t at anyone who would listen. Geralt… Geralt had wanted to do good by Ciri and he’d known she needed it. To be with normal people, people that knew her in a way the witchers couldn’t. He’d also painfully understood Lambert’s arguments. It was dangerous for anyone involved. But in the end, Ciri had put on all her charms, had gotten out her arsenal of annoyance, and had convinced them to dare. They rarely did that these days, daring. They’d discussed it over the fire one night, and had decided, collectively decided because unfathomably, the girl wanted them all to come, to indulge her. And here they were.

“So,” Vesemir said as he approached Eist, both thumbs hooked into his belt and one eyebrow raised in his best impression of the hard teacher he used to be. Eist did not cower. “You are the reason this girl has been playing all manners of pranks on me.”

“I should hope so. Someone has to be around for her to fill their shoes with muck and put hair dye in their soap and so on. I would be direly disappointed in Cirilla if she hadn’t found someone to pester while he were separated,” Eist said and extended a hand. Vesemir glanced down at it, pretended to ponder, and Geralt and Eskel turned their heads down to hide their smiles. “Call me Eist.”

“Do you know, Eist, that I have woken up with my feet coated in honey and ants only yesterday?”

“That was Lambert’s idea though,” Ciri protested.

“Well, this Lambert must be an absolutely charming young man then,” Eist chuckled and from Lambert’s glare he did not cower either.

“I’m older than you, grandpa, I’ve had enough of this,” Lambert said. “You know what? That bridge looked funny. I think I’ll just go and jump over the railing it and see how many somersaults I can do on the way down. Aiden taught me a new way to get more spinning power.” With that, the youngest wolf got up, gave Cerys a pat on the head and made a run for it.

“LAMBERT, NO,” both Vesemir and Eskel shouted and gave chase, and Crach and Eist bellowed out laughter. Geralt and Ciri rolled their eyes at each other. It was then that Ciri finally noticed her other cousin, and only because Cerys stood by his side now. That close, the similarities were uncanny, brother and sister no doubt. They had the same long nose, the same hands. Hands that had wielded steel before and often. In a way, then, Ciri might fit in better now than she had before. Before Kaer Morhen, before the war. Before her life had fallen to pieces around her.

“Hjalmar,” Ciri said and approached the pair of siblings. Hjalmar shrugged, then walked away without sparing her a glance.

“He’s having a phase,” Cerys huffed. “We’ll hang out after dinner! Now that you’re apparently a fighter, we ought to spar. We can, father, right?” Both girls looked to Crach who seemed a little forlorn all by himself, eyes darting between where the witchers had disappeared to, where Hjalmar had disappeared to, and where Cerys and Ciri made puppy eyes at him.

“Cerys may fight, of course,” Crach said. “But I cannot decide for Cirilla.”

“Cirilla can damn well decide for herself,” Ciri said, fist clenching as if around the grip of an invisible sword. Back in Kaer Morhen, she would be scolded for backing down on a challenge and so she shook Cerys’ hand now before the girl trailed after her brother.

“I should… make sure they don’t set the place on fire. Eist will show you to your rooms once the rest of your family returns,” Crach said with a wave and followed his children with heavy steps, each a sigh against the carpet.

“Right then,” Ciri said and turned to Geralt and Eist, now the only people left in attendance. “What have you been up to, grandpa?”

“Oh, we’ve been spending our days on the terraces, watching for whales and counting seals. Calanthe has been bored out of her mind, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

Geralt froze and so did Ciri. They exchanged a long look and Geralt could smell the tears prickle in Ciri’s eyes, but they didn’t manifest. Geralt gave an almost imperceptible nod and Ciri turned back to Eist, drawing a deep breath.

“She’s alive then.”

“She’s alive.”

“I want to see her,” Ciri demanded and held out her hand for Eist to take. To guide her. This was not a reunion Geralt needed to pry into, and so he inclined his head and gestured for them to go on.

“But Ciri,” Eist said and squeezed her hand. His voice had fallen to a quieter key and Geralt cocked his head to listen for his heartbeat. Not faster, slower if anything, but a certain tension was there nonetheless. There was something wrong with Calanthe. Something significant. “She might not be awake. She… rarely is.”

“What happened to her?”

“I think I should see how many somersaults Lambert managed,” Geralt interjected carefully and made to leave, but Ciri grabbed his hand before he could. Their eyes met again and hers were hard around the edges, softened on the inside. I need you, Geralt, the flicker in them said. And Geralt was not her father, not yet, he thought, and he didn’t know if he ever would be, but he would never deny her a request like this. She needed him, Geralt was there.

Eist glanced at where they held hands and his weary expression was washed away by a wistful smile.

“Knowing Calanthe, she should like to explain it to you in due time. You will see that she was wounded in the storm on Cintra and is still in recovery.”

“She’s the Lioness,” Ciri said simply. “She will roar and rise again.”

That she will, Geralt thought. And you right alongside her.

[sukirichi]

— LOVE LETTER FROM ANON ; 💌

this is from an ask i received. i copy pasted and replied here as a text post since i can’t put “read more” on anon asks and it’s quite long hehehe. to the anon who sent me this, i give you loads of my love, thank you so much for everything !!

[ the ask ]

hi lovely,

i just read earned it and i have a couple things i’d like to say to you if you don’t mind. before i start, i completely understand if you don’t want to share this ask or even read at all which is fair. but if you do decide to read it, i know that one person such as me cannot change the decisions a writer had made such as discontinuing a series but i hope that this allows you some sense of peace or happiness towards your creation and end of earned it. i’m actually writing this is my notes before i send it to you so that’s how you know i truly mean it. buckle up baby!

i’d like to start with this; i just read and finished all the remaining chapters of earned it. i don’t know how to say this without sounding arrogant or cocky which truly isn’t my intention here, i promise so i’ll just say it as is. i swear to ever loving god, i’ve scoured the entirety of tumblr, ao3, fanfiction.net, wattpad, everything and anything, and it still isn’t very often that i find works like these, far and few between dare i say. ive looked through almost everything i could get my hands on to read in the jjk fandom and dear god, do you manage to keep on surprising me. i’ve read majority if not all your works along with following you on ao3 and tumblr, and i must say. i truly am so fucking impressed. completely and absolutely fucking floored if you will. the amount of plot twists and pure emotion you managed to put into this is only something i can dream of ever creating.

i cannot lie, it truly my hearts to think that people gave you so much shit over this to which ended in you deciding to discontinue along with your lack of interest which at least, is understandable unlike the hate. i literally cannot comprehend how people would be unhappy with the outcome so far after reading it since it was beyond fucking magnificent in my eyes. it kept me on my toes the entire time whilst never managing to bore me once and as someone with adhd, thats fucking hard to do, i’ll admit it. props to you. and as much as i want to grovel and beg for crumbs, something, anything to know about how it ends, i know that that will most likely accomplish nothing to both you and i so decided to just say this.

thank you for writing this. thank you for not only writing it but dealing with the experience of unwanted and negative criticism to the point you had to stop and discontinue it whilst also being generous and amazing enough to keep it up so other people could still read it. i really hope your proud of earned it and how it turned out so far, because if i were you, i’d be so bloody fucking proud i wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

my friends often tell me i overstep my boundaries and i really hope i aren’t doing that with this but i just really, truly, wanted to express my genuine appreciation and thanks towards your writing and towards you as a writer that puts out content, not to mention for free!!!!, for people like me. i also don’t want to seem as if i’m glorifying earned above all your other works, because that’s not what i mean. your writing is just… just fucking chefs kiss. sorry, my brains starting to run out of words at this point but oh my god. thank you for letting me experience the experience of earned it even though there was no proper end. i’d rather have that than nothing at all. and maybe i misread this entire thing, maybe you are goddamn proud of your work, which you fuckinf should be considering the pure quality it is. once again, chefs kiss!!

i just… i don’t know what to say anymore. your writing, quite literally, has made me completely fucking breathless in a good way of course. anyways, i hope this wasn’t too much of a ramble and at least managed to make you smile or something. have a lovely day sweetheart!!!! <333 :*)

OMG ANON PLS FORGIVE ME IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME DAYS TO RESPOND TO, I DIDN’T WANT TO GIVE YOU A HALF ASSED RESPONSE SO I WAITED TO GET MY MENTAL ENERGY BACK TO A HUNDRED PERCENT SO I CAN SEND BACK MORE LOVE TO YOU WHOLEHEARTEDLY !! FIRST OF ALL UHM… 

you really made me speechless with this one, you have no idea. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve reread this and teared up a little bit because you know… I’m so shocked like I really have no idea what I did to receive such a sweet message because I’m just writing silly fanfics when I’m feeling it yknow? Or at least that’s what it seems like because it turns out I have a huge impact on others and I’m able to make people happy like I’ll never EVER get used to that feeling and I mean that in a good way !! Like I’m in a constant state of disbelief that people are this affected by my content and I’m just… 

I’m so thankful truly PLEASE can I give you a hug I’m so happy sobs sobs sobs

also baby, thank you sm for this again AAAAHH. I’m not sure if you really mean ‘Earned It’ the mafia! gojo series or ‘Reckless’ the CEO gojo series though ?? Both are discontinued but Earned It was discontinued bcos my dumbass killed Naoya there and he was my favorite so I lost the motivation and it was all my fault SOBBSSS. as for Reckless though, yeah I’d say it was mostly the hate I got for it that demotivated me into continuing it :// but if this ask is meant for Earned It, then yes thank you so much for the kind words as well, though I didn’t really receive hate for it so no worries !!

and aaah anon im…I’m at a loss for words lmao but the part where you said where you would be proud if you wrote it, that’s really…LIKE IDK it just hit me bcos oftentimes I look at something I poured my heart into, but then I’d have days where I’d be like YIKES that wasn’t a good one. its so easy to forget the effort we put into something when we’re affected by external factors. and yeah even though I really don’t want to continue either series anymore, thank you for leaving me the important note of being proud of myself <33 

although the series (earned it) wasn’t really something I’d properly executed and planned for, I do remember being passionate over it and feeling truly excited to update. even if it didn’t end out the way I wanted it to, it’s still something I poured my heart on and that’s magnificent on its own, so I’ll be prouder of myself from now on <33

no worries bb you are not overstepping any boundaries at all !! believe me when I say this ask truly do means a lot to me – more than you’ll ever know. messages like these are what keeps me going, as feedback is important to writers, but most of all it’s the genuine support and sincerity that gets to me. 

I’m truly humbled and grateful right now. thank you for this again and again and again.

THIS MADE ME MORE THAN SMILE !! there’s a lot of things I’m struggling with even if I don’t publicly express it, but messages like these will always have a special place in my heart. I’m sincerely grateful for everything, and I’ll continue writing here and sharing my works!! It’s supportive people like you that make these moments worthwhile. I’ll never forget this message anon AAAAH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU THANK YOU YOU HAVE AN EVEN BETTER DAY OR NIGHT, you have me weak in the knees for this

OKAY BRB SOBBING IN HAPPINESS

[purvishraick]

A TALE OF ALWAYS AND FOREVER

CHAPTER 7

Fanfiction : Bloodbound (Choices)

Pairing : Adrian Raines x Amy Richard Parker (MC)

Warning : none

Rating: Teen

TAG LIST : @otherworldlypresents ​  , @evelynistic ​   , @silma-words ​ , @fireycookie , @lauren-raines-x , @nala-raines

If anyone wanna be tagged in future do let me know….

read previous chapter here ….. Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6

So here i promised this last night but sorry it got delayed ...got stuck in some important work .... now here i am .... i hope u like it

Amy had to forcefully cut the call, in order to shut her brother and she new that this will make him angry. But she didn’t need a pep talk for not getting wasted in the club before her interview. She could handle her brother afterwards and the interview was important. She wandered here and there and settled on the bench. She felt like she is being watched from behind but didn’t find someone. Just then a stunning woman with an icy demeanor came towards her.

“Amy?” stern woman said .

“ yes that’s me “ she replied .

“I am Nicole Anderson, VP of operations at Raines Corp. I will interview you . “ she said .

Amy was surprised to see that she was going to be interviewed by someone so high at post but her queries were eased when she reminded her that they take their hiring process very seriously and she followed her in the conference room keeping her confident look .

“ now then. The Raines Corporation is a global leader in technology and innovation . Why exactly are you interested in being the executive assistant to our CEO ? “

“well…” Amy took a deep breath and continued , “ I’d love to help make the world a better place . what I admire most about the Raines Corporation is your dedication to global innovation and improvement. The clean – water initiative …the vaccine for the cerella virus …the green energy project… you guys aren’t just getting rich. You’re trying to help people, to make technology that’ll save the planet. I can’t think of anything better than being a part of that.”

“hmm……a good answer. A bit cloying , perhaps, but Adrian might actually like that “ Nicole said with an appreciative look.

Just as she was going to speak the next thing , the door at the back of the room swings open , and a handsome man in a perfectly – tailored suit strolls in.

Intelligence sparks through his eyes . He was extremely charming , with his black obsidian eyes assessing her , her already killer nervousness now peaked a whole new level.

“ Adrian I wasn’t expecting you…” Nicole asked unable to hide the surprise in her voice .

Adrian as in Adrian Raines …well all escalated very quickly for her .

“ I had a free minute. Is this the candidate ?” he asked taking the authority in his hands as he decided.

Professionalism and seriousness reflected in his voice .

“ yes …but I’ve just started the interview and—“ Nicole asked stammering .

“ I’ll take over from here “ he cut her off not wanting to take any excuses .

“……of course sir , go right ahead “ she surrendered .

Adrian sat across Amy , eyes burning right through her . He has never seen such a beautiful person in his entire existence , god knows how would she be as a person .

Amy’s nervousness grew even more when his eyes bore through her but she remembered once more , she is Amy Richard Parker and nothing in this world ever scares her , she remembered her brothers’ advices on professionality and confidence and recalled her dad’s proud thought about her and her mother’s loving smile . Now that was enough to calm her down , so she put on the brave and fearless smile again on her face and straightened her back.

“ Amy , is it ? “ Adrian looked at her and saw her hazel brown eyes which her so hypnotizing , with all his strength he prevented himself from being lost in them .

“ that’s right “ she said interrupting his thoughts .

“ tell me Amy , what do you desire ? “ he asked her and she was surprised at the question .

Amy was already so mesmerized from him that this question surprised her.

“ You mean ……why do I want this job ? Because I – “ but was interrupted by Adrian .

“ I didn’t ask why you want this job. I asked what do you desire . “ he asked seriously and professionally.

“ I desire ……PASSION “ she answered after thinking fir a while .

“ oh , really ? “ he asked , his brows raising , he was in true sense intrigued by her answer .

“Sorry , if that is too personal but I am just being honest . I want to feel deeply. I want to experience life , live every moment like my last. We never know when is our last moment , it is better to live our life to the fullest than to regret it afterwards . That’s what I desire “ she answered honestly and it was the true answer she saw what happened to her family everything was good and happy then suddenly they lost everything , she do not want to regret anything .

“ I can relate“ Adrian was impressed internally but didn’t expressed it. He supressed a smile to reach his face. He was truly impressed by her desire to live and feel and experience. He now looked at her resume .

“ lets see here … graduated college 3 years ago …masters in communication …interned at Mannon financial…volunteered in San Torbida and France abroad for a year “ he read out and again was impressed from her but wondered why it took her an extra year to sign up for this interview or for that matter any other one .

“ yep that’s right “ she said .

“ well , how was that tell me in three words “ he asked .

“ difficult. Enlighting. Rewarding. “ she replied easily .

“ good , this job can be challenging and unpredictable , are you comfortable running unusual errands ?”

“Absolutely “

I have been doing them since a long time now , she thought to herself , smiling .

“ Handling confidential information ? “

“ I can keep a secret “

You wont even realise how many I am keeping right now too , she thought again and smirked .

“ Working nights ? “

“ Always been a night owl “

Okay , I atleast told him one thing fully without strings attached , she smiled while thinking .

“ Good , Anything else I should know about you ? “

“ Hmmmm …… I have got WORLD CLASS people skills “ , she said with a proud smile .

“ Oh , really ? “ he asked with questioning eyes .

“ I was voted ‘ most likable ‘ in my high school class . Also ‘ most popular ‘ and ‘ best smile ‘ . Technichally you are not supposed to win in multiple categories , but I was able to persuade them . And also the cherry on the top I was the PROM QUEEN “ , she stated out all of her achievements proudly and remembered how happy and proud her father was to see her that day . She and her brothers has always been the brightest in the whole family , anyways. Suddenly feeling nostalgic and tears building in her eyes she averted her gaze on the floor.

“ Thus proving your point “ said a grinning and impressed Adrian , but he saw a glint of sadness in her eyes and he doubted that he saw tears too , and was unable to understand why counting her proud moments made her sad .

“ exactly” Amy said after controlling her emotions and forcing a smile.

“ one more question “ Adrian leaned forward hands folded on the table and with an intense expression , told her the story of a man who got a genie lamp and destroyed everything , and then finally asked her about what should his final wish should be .

“I think his final wish should be to undo his first two wishes “ she said after thinking for a while .

“because ?” Adrian asked curious to know her theory .

“ because he already had everything he could ask for a family and many friends …what could he ask for more it was more than enough …all he wanted or ever needed was right there in front of him …this is a story of temptation and greed …he should have never played this game …all now he can do is making things as they were before “

Her answer was something totally honest … Adrian glanced at her and then noticed how true each and every word was . she was not only beautiful but also quite intelligent …in true sense beauty with brains.

She was quite interesting too …Adrian personally never saw such a person in his entire life … and he needed to know her …he knew that it is a huge risk and a mistake but he already did that when he decided to interview her himself …now he couldn’t resist her … so then he does the only thing he could do …he knew that Nicole will be a big trouble after this but guess he was okay with that if it was what would keep this girl around .

Then he grins brightly at Amy and says

“ You’re hired “

“wait what ? …seriously “ Amy asked with wide eyes , she was surprised , how in world is it possible that someone gets hired so fast …this was weird to her … but of course she was happy .

Adrian left an inside giggle watching her surprised reaction …she looked adorable with those wide eyes …his smile grew even wider … and he extends his hand …which obviously she took .

‘ oh my god …his skin is impossibly smooth…and hold so firm …wow he is really handso-……no no no …stop brain stop thinking …no eyes …don’t look in his eyes for too long … fuck …, I am a disaster …stop cheeks don’t turn red …god please ‘ she thought .

Good god if god wanted to kill her please kill her in this exact moment …someone save her from this embarrassment …she was a disaster with wide eyes blushing cheeks …FUCK.

Adrian saw her flustered reaction which was by far the cutest thing he saw in his life … his vampire senses made her blushing cheeks clearly visible …the dark pink tint on her cheek made her impossibly adorable.

“welcome to Raines Corporation “ , he said with a bright smile

They made eye contact for just moment but everything stood still for that particular moment …it was mesmerising .

In that moment Adrian didn’t knew about Amy but he knew that they were going to go a long way .

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

@choicesficwriterscreations

[calacuspr]

Calacus Weekly Hit & Miss – Tom Daley & Kentaro Kobayashi

Every Monday we look at the best and worst communicators in the sports world from the previous week.

HIT – TOM DALEY

Tom Daley is finally an Olympic champion.

After 13 years of trying, Daley, alongside diving partner Matty Lee, won Team GB’s second gold medal of the Tokyo 2020 Olympic Games with victory in the men’s synchronised 10 metres platform.

"I still can't honestly believe what is happening.” Daley said. “That moment, being about to be announced as Olympic champions, I was gone. I was blubbering. To finally have this around my neck, I've been diving over 20 years.

"Lots of people would have counted me out but I'm in the best shape and with the support with Matty, we've had that unstoppable mentality this year and that's the first time I've ever been able to think like that.”

After winning Olympic gold medal at the fourth attempt, Daley must feel like an enormous weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

Ever since he burst onto the international stage at the Beijing Games in 2008, aged just 14, he has been in ever-present in the British media, not least as a result of the huge expectations he has faced from such a young age, but also because of his private life.

From the media attention about moving schools after being bullied in the wake of his initial diving success, to losing his dad Robert, who died following a battle with brain cancer, Daley has faced so many challenges on his long journey to Olympic glory.

The public eye has also constantly scrutinised his sexuality. Speaking on Radio 4’s Desert Island Discs in 2018, Daley admitted that he often felt inferior to everyone because of his uncertainty regarding his sexuality.  

But since coming out as gay in 2013, Daley has been a real inspiration and role model for so many young, gay people.

After winning gold, he said: “I came out in 2013 and when I was younger I always felt like the one that was alone and different and didn’t fit. There was something about me that was never going to be as good as what society wanted me to be.

“I feel incredible proud to say that I am a gay man and also an Olympic champion.”

He added: "I am a gay man and also an Olympic champion. And I feel very empowered by that because when I was younger I felt I was never going to achieve anything because of who I was."

Olympic gold arrives in Daley’s first Games since become a father to son Robbie - who is named after his late father.

“Being a father was a massive turning point in my career as an athlete,” Daley admitted. “I realised whether I did really well or terribly I can go home to a husband and son who love me regardless.

“Feeling that and knowing that love is unconditional, I can take that pressure off myself, enjoy it and say I'm doing it because I love to do it.”

Speaking about his husband and his child in front of the world media, next to athletes from China, a country where neither would be permitted for a gay man, Daley continues to act as a key spokesperson for the LGBTQ+ community and for LGBTQ+ rights.

His words have been widely praised by sporting stars, with Gary Lineker tweeting: “Absolute inspiration to so many. Well said and well played @TomDaley1994”.

Two-time Olympic champion rower James Cracknell also praised Daley on Twitter, saying: “So pleased for @tomdaley pioneered for his sport, was overwhelminghly supportive when other divers won GB’s first diving gold in 2016. But backed himself to perform in @tokyo2020 enjoy it and well done @mattydiver”.

Daley has overcome so many obstacles in his journey to achieving Olympic success, which highlight just how mentally strong and how much of role model he is.

Still just 27, he has played a vital role in transforming the sport of diving in the UK over the years and continues to inspire the next generation of athletes.  

Tom Daley has captured the hearts of a nation and is a deserved Olympic hero.

MISS – KENTARO KOBAYASHI

The Olympic Games may be somewhat different this year, given the delays and lack of crowds and visitors caused by the COVID-19 pandemic.

But the Games have always stood for inclusion, friendship and respect for others.

So it was no surprise that the show director of the Tokyo 2020 opening ceremony was dismissed a day before the event was held after offensive comments were discovered from the 1990s.

Footage emerged of Kentaro Kobayashi, a former member of a popular comedy duo Rahmens , in which he appeared to make jokes about the Holocaust and was quoted saying “Let’s play massacre the Jews.”

Given the terrible loss of life to military and civilians, including a quarter of a million people killed by the nuclear bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Kobayashi’s comments could not have been less appropriate.

Kobayashi at least issued a statement responding to his dismissal and said: “It should never be the job of an entertainer to make people feel uncomfortable.

“I understand that my choice of words at the time was wrong, and I regret it. I would like to apologise for making people feel uncomfortable. I am very sorry.”

The Simon Wiesenthal Center condemned the anti-Semitic ‘jokes’ with Global Social Action Director, Rabbi Abraham Cooper saying: “Any person, no matter how creative, does not have the right to mock the victims of the Nazi genocide.

“The Nazi regime also gassed Germans with disabilities. Any association of this person to the Tokyo Olympics would insult the memory of six million Jews and make a cruel mockery of the Paralympics.”

Kobayashi’s departure is the fourth senior Tokyo 2020 executive to depart ahead of the Games.

Earlier last week, one of the event’s composers, Keigo Oyamada, resigned after old magazine interviews resurfaced in which he joked about bullying other children at school, including classmates with intellectual disabilities.

In March, creative chief Hiroshi Sasaki quit after suggesting that plus-size comedian Naomi Watanabe could appear as an ‘Olympig’ while in February, Yoshiro Mori was forced to resign as the head of the organising committee after he made remarks that women talked too much and that meetings with female board directors would “take a lot of time.”

Tokyo 2020 Organising Committee President Seiko Hashimoto said of Kobayashi’s dismissal: “We found out that Mr. Kobayashi, in his own performance, has used a phrase ridiculing a historical tragedy.

“We deeply apologise for causing such a development the day before the opening ceremony and for causing troubles and concerns to many involved parties as well as the people in Tokyo and the rest of the country.”

Another embarrassing scandal in Japan revolving around the Olympic Games can be an opportunity, according to Sayuri Shirai, a professor of economics at Japan's Keio University.

“Discrimination was never a major issue, so many people are careless. A lot of foreign media pay so much attention (to the Olympic Games), so every negative issue is under the spotlight...

“People are starting to be more sensitive about discriminatory expression," she said, adding that the scandals was a “good opportunity for Japan” to think more about discrimination and diversity.

[gagmebucky]

my first steve fic... don’t drag me about the characterization please i did my BEST and that’s all the matters, really 😌

[boxer!steve. size kink. doll.] 

His jaw ticks. “It’s not a challenge, doll,” he bites out. “It’s a warning. If I tried to get inside you, I’d split you in half in the process.” His eyes flicker down, and your nipples are pebbles against the thin, easily-rippable fabric—you’re testing him, and he’s failing. “Goddamn it,” he hisses underneath his breath. “That - that shouldn’t turn you on.” Bristling, he drops his hand and pedals backward—he’s on his last thread, and it’s his sole chance to make a clear-headed decision. 

in which steve can’t resist what he feels for you. (includes boxer!steve x coach’s-daughter!reader, steve’s pov, dirty talk, mild choking, size kink, grinding, unprotected sex, creampie kink, overstimulation.)

—

Steve Rogers has impeccable self control. He knows how to control his emotions, to maintain a clear head amid the mist of commotion, to command his body to follow his head and not the violent, primal instincts that prickle underneath his skin. 

And despite the lifelong effort required to uphold this principle, he’s found great fortune in the endeavor. Most don’t realize it, but in his occupation, there’s a certain level of restraint necessary in order to be successful. He has experienced it on both ends so he’s aware of just how important it is. 

Growing up, he hadn’t known better. In the numerous instances where he’d been provoked and pushed, he gave in; consequently, suffering gravelly. Knuckles split, bones broken and face bloodied, his anger got the better of him, and his opponents always got the benefit. 

But that’s where your father came in, and showed him the way to fight back and win every time, to redirect his mania into his fists and funnel them in tactful blows that resulted in trophy after trophy. Once Steve learned how to do that, everything became a breeze. It’s more than a combat style but a way of living. 

Ultimately, he gets what he wants because he can make logic-based decisions and utilize his visceral drive in executing them. And a wallet fat with unmatched winnings, a house for his family and a luxurious apartment of his own, his name on the lips of the masses, it’s a fucking amazing life—for the most part, anyway. 

Except for the one part: you.

The problem with self control, he has come to realize, is that when he truly desires something, he sees the cons of that thing. Usually, if it outweighs the pros, he’ll stop it before it begins. However, in the case of you, that formula isn’t working like it’s supposed to. 

You see, he knows he can’t have you, and he knows why. You are the daughter of his mentor, the only child of the single reason that he’s evolved into the East Coast’s Golden Glove Champion three times in a row, and pursuing you is beyond disrespectful. 

So why the fuck can’t he get you out of his head? 

That’s what he keeps asking himself. Another glorious win, and it won’t stop rattling inside his skull like a hammer on a gong. The crowd is chanting his name but yours is beating a tattoo inside his rib cage. The post-win rush surges through his veins and hits harder than any blows he’s ever received but spotting the proud tilt of your lips amongst the masses is like punch from God themself.

His clean-shaven jaw locks as the referee lifts his right arm and everyone goes wild, losing your face in the fanfare. This is the part where he basks in it, where he loses himself in the victory of sweat and blood slick across his skin; money and recognition, a reminder of the advantages of self-discipline; his reward of what he gets when he uses his brain and not the urges that prickle underneath his skin. 

This time, however, it’s not as gratifying as it’s supposed to be. No, it’s fucking agitating because instead of being the thing that gets him what he wants, it’s the obstacle in his way. 

He can’t pin-point exactly why the desire is striking him this intensely but he suspects it has something to do with the fact that you’ve just returned after a while, and your father is still gone—which means you’ll be upstairs in the gym’s apartment, alone, when he comes to see you (and he will come and see you, what’s the quote about looking and not touching?). 

The tension in his muscles advises his better judgement not to. The wild thump thump thump of his heart to the tune of your name dictates he find some other not-forbidden girl to release the mania coiled inside him before he does; that, it’s not like you’d mind he greet you in the morning—in fact, you’d understand. 

Except, he feels like a live wire right now, and there’s a pull inside him that feels like you’re the only thing that can fray his edges back into stability. 

You’re on the counter when he walks in. Barefoot, you’re kneeling on the flat surface to reach a high shelf in one of the kitchen’s cabinets. One arm stretched above your head, you blindly search for the contents for a cup, palm slapping against wood as you do. After seconds of failure, a cutely disgruntled noise leaves your throat, and you shuffle up to your toes. 

For a moment, he’s entranced by the display. A smile quirks the corner of his lips, running his gaze down the outline of your figure. Adorned in a tank top and ass-hugging jeans, there’s not a flaw in sight; other than his hands not on you, exploring every inch, crushing your body against his. Oh, that and you’re about to fall. 

“Oomph!” expels in a feminine grunt when you flail backwards and collide with the cushion of his embrace. His forearm hooks around your waist like an anchor and packs you against his chest before gently sliding you down his body to the safety of the ground. In doing so, momentarily, he’s caught up in how you feel against him, your back huddled into his front like puzzle pieces.

Everything about him is big, and it occurs to him that everything about you is small. His herculean stature dwarfs yours: six-foot of towering strength versus your soft, shorter frame. You barely require an ounce of strength to be lifted, and his blood rushes to his lower region with what he can do with that knowledge. 

Subconsciously, he tightens his hold until you tilt your head back to blink up at him with those enamoring big eyes. With that, he snaps out of his daze and relinquishes you with a quiet, “Sorry.” Before you can respond, he reaches beyond to grab the item of your desire and hands it over.

Your lashes flutter. “Thanks, killer,” you breathe cheekily as you accept it, the delayed rise and fall of your decolletage slowly regulating. You step out of his space. leaving him cold in your wake, and pad over to the sink with your back to him. “You did good out there, by the way.”

At the praise, his smile restores, and he inches toward you. “Just good?” he echoes after you’ve turned the faucet on and off and crosses his arms in faux offense.

Lips curled around a drink of water, you whirl around and finish a swig. Droplets glisten on your Cupid’s bow, and he swears you’re doing this on purpose when your pink tongue licks the liquid clean. “Do you really need little ‘ole me feeding your ego?” you tease and lean against the counter. 

“You are little,” he agrees with a perfunctory nod. 

You roll your eyes playfully and set the half-full cup down. “No. You - you’re just huge.” You gesture pointedly at his broad, muscle-laden build; dragging your stare down his squared shoulders to his defined abdomen to the tree trunks he has for thighs. An airy quality lingers in your voice, almost high pitched, as you add, “I don’t understand how your competitors don’t go running for the hills when they see you.” 

Taking another stride forth, head cocking, he observes you. There’s something in your expression he can’t quite explain but it pumps confidence into his blood. He glances at himself, white under armor t-shirt and gray sweats, but there’s no downplaying the physical strength he possesses. “You think I’m intimidating?”

You scoff and shake your head vehemently. “To other people, yeah. Me? Not so much.” A devious grin curves into those alluring lips of yours, and you straighten against the counter (not that it helped any with the height difference). “I could take you better than any of those losers you’ve gone against.” 

He laughs, husky and genuine. “Oh? Is that what you think?”

You stand your ground and encroach upon him, stabbing a finger into his chest. “It’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

Alarm bells ring between his ears, but he’s too lost in the beautiful arrogance on your face to listen. “Okay,” he says then backs up to the middle of the room where space is more ample and beckons you over with both hands. “C’mon then.” 

As he expected, you don’t back down. You smooth your hand through your hair and kick off the bottom cupboard. Rolling your shoulder, you enter his orbit; a friendly competitiveness gleams in your dilated pupils, darkening enough for him to notice beneath the kitchen’s warm-toned luminences. 

Your stance is nothing less than perfection (much like the rest of you). Orthodox, you project your right side but spread your weight evenly through both legs; a smidge wider than your shoulders, you bounce on the balls of your feet. Hands in a loose fist, your elbows are drawn together, and your chin tucks, looking up at him through your knitted eyebrows. 

There’s no question about your combative ability but his just more developed—given this is what he does for a living—so while you’re fast and your punches twist like it comes straight out of the textbook, he has the upper hand. 

In a half-hearted demeanor, he humors you. For a moment, the both of you encircle each other, him with a suppressed smile, you with concentrated brows. Like lightning, you advance on him and push through a superlative jab. But as quick as you are, he’s quicker. 

Deftly dodging your knuckles, he catches your dainty wrist. A squeal escapes your throat as he wrenches it behind your lower back. The swift action draws your body against his once again; the dull ridges of your back molds so close to his front that he knows you can feel the hammer of his heart beating an imprint between your shoulder blades. 

You wiggle briefly, and he has to bite down on a groan at the faint jean vibrations against his sweats, but you eventually relax with a long whine of, “No fair!” 

“You said—”

“Not what I meant,” you interject breathlessly, a salacious underlying in the words that he can no longer play oblivious to—dawning on him in a gut-clenching heat. “When I said I could take you, Rogers, I wasn’t talking about in a fight. Though, I won’t mind if we got a little violent. . .”

His breathing hitches. “I knew it.” A truth he long-buried—the strike of realization he avoided confronting in an attempt to hinder his own feelings—hurtles in his rib cage as he unwillingly accepts the reality you want him in the perverse idiosyncrasy he wants you. That beastly part of him roars in ravenous elation while his practiced erudition advises you in a low and pained plead, almost a groan, “You gotta stop.” 

With a breezy laugh, a twinkling song of laughter, you repeat a doubtful, “Stop?” and do the exact opposite. Your body careens into him, specifically your ass grinding encouragement against the hardening bulge in his pants. “Doesn’t feel like you want me to.” 

You’re right. “I don’t.” The reply rumbles through his chest and wrenches out strangled. The grip on your wrist increases before vanishing altogether. “But you’re Coach’s daughter, and out of all the things not to do, you’re number one on that list.” 

Freed, you twirl around and retain the lack of distance. You look up at him with unwavering seduction. “When you’re looking at me like that, does that really matter anymore?” 

Again, you’re right. But that’s not the issue—not the prevailing one, that is. “I’ve thought about you a million different ways but in reality, I’d break you,” he admits in a ragged exhale and licks his bottom lip. Another analytical once-over confirms his deduction; your danity frame clashing with his would be something beastly. “How would your daddy react knowing I ruined his pretty little girl?”

To his pleasure and displeasure, it doesn’t dissuade your attraction. No, it seems to have heightened it instead. “Is that a promise?” you ask, lust scintillating in your eyes like moonlight on the ocean, and he has to recoil away because you’ve got too much power over him with a look like that. “Steve—” 

Your hand grapples his before he can get far, an earnest strength he doesn’t have to bat an eyelash at. But it’s that—another reminder of your size differences and how easily he could bend and fold you to his liking—that has a carnal current torrenting from the depths of his soul, demanding an innate action. 

On impulse, he lurches forward with an inhuman growl and herds you backward until his hips are trapping yours against the counter edge. His hand wraps around the column of your neck, partially spanning your jaw to tilt upwards. 

“In every one of those fantasies, I use you like a rag doll—fast and rough, never gentle. And you wanna know why? ‘Cause you’re fuckin’ small and it’s the only possible way for me to fuck you,” he rasps, strained and serious, imploring you to understand the gravity of his words. “That’s in the case, that I can even fit inside you in the first place. So, you may say you can handle me but the truth is, you wouldn’t be able to take just one of my fingers.”

The speech is to deter you; invoke some common sense in that intelligent brain of yours because all of his is withering by the second. In lieu of his intention, it excites you further. Your pulse races against his palm but the flames in your gaze tell him it isn’t from fear. “You seem so sure about that but. . . but I don’t think so,” you purposely goad that volatile and competitive aspect of him. “Why don’t we try and see who’s right?”

His jaw ticks. “It’s not a challenge, doll,” he bites out. “It’s a warning. If I tried to get inside you, I’d split you in half in the process.” His eyes flicker down, and your nipples are pebbles against the thin, easily-rippable fabric—you’re testing him, and he’s failing. “Goddamn it,” he hisses underneath his breath. “That - that shouldn’t turn you on.” Bristling, he drops his hand and pedals backward—he’s on his last thread, and it’s his sole chance to make a clear-headed decision. 

“No,” you state simply, following after him. “I - I think you’re scared. I think you don’t want to admit that someone as small as me could take you so easily—and I mean easy—where everyone else fell to their knees.” A coy smirk upturns the corner of your lips. “Though I also wouldn’t be opposed to getting on mine right now.” 

That’s it. The last shred of ascetic lessons from the past six years bursts into ash. The fire ignites an unhinged frenzy, tunneling into his veins and coursing through his blood like the water of a previously dammed river now freed of placating obstruction. 

With unrestricted strength, Steve hauls you into his arms, cording underneath your ass and hoisting you high around his abdomen. In a gnashing kiss, he crushes his lips against yours. There’s no delay in your response, returning his passion in a rivaling degree. 

That formerly-leashed, hedonistic entity within him preens from its shackles and livens with unhinged reign. Electricity crackles underneath his skin and tingles violently in feral need. Every filthy imagining he’s conjured of you strobes through his mind, and he feels like a man who hasn’t eaten in years, and you’re the delectable T-bone steak he gets to devour. 

You moan into his mouth, a pretty vibration he swallows, as he laps up your taste. The musical sound, the way you explode on his tongue, it all goes to his head like a hit off a drug and slithers down his spine to the ache in his cock. 

His hips snap forward, and his grasp on you intensifies; clutching your ass, he’s rocking your center into his cotton-clad erection roughly. Shards of pleasure ricochet through him, but it’s not enough—he needs more, needs more of your titillating sounds, more of your body on his, of you coming undone because of him, you making him fall apart. 

As you writhe against him with breathy sounds, he sets you on the counter and goes for your pants. Logic evades him at this point—like the fact it’d be the same amount of time with less effort it’d be if he slipped off—and his hands tear the denim material down the middle. Using little effort, he continues to remove what separates you, doing away with your panties next. All the while, you’re gasping in surprise and possibly outrage but he can’t focus on that right now. 

“You don’t understand,” he speaks laboredly, shoving his sweats to his knees to reveal he’s gone commando. “How bad I’ve wanted you. How hard it was—how hard you make me—to keep from myself taking you in every disgusting way I dreamed about.” 

Slicked with precum, his veined manhood is just as thick as it is long; past lovers have gawked at the formidable steel, shying away immediately after, and he’s always understood that. But you, you look at him starry-eyed, licking your bottom lip like you want him exploding on your tongue. 

And as much as he’d marvel at the sight of your cheeks stuffed like chipmunk with his cock— has thought how hot it’d sound when you’re gagging relentlessly around him—he’s got his attention lasered on that tiny prize between your thighs. 

A teasing triangle of perfection, daring him to completely abuse and batter as he pleases. You’re glistening like diamonds in the sunlight, effectively blinding him in a bind of corporeal desire—there’s no thinking, only action; no right or wrong, just what he wants.

His hands pinch underneath your knees and slide you to the edge. In tandem, he slots himself flat against your weeping heat, squishing the length of his cock between the split of your slit, burrowing himself there as if it’s his new home. 

Mutual moans and shivers expel through you both. It’s better than he’s ever imagined; mentally-created experience has nothing on the raw reality. Soft like silk, the honeyed aperture of your sex is eclipsed by his tanned thickness, barely shrouding a third of him, his tip twitching at your navel, and it’s a snapshot to behold. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he rasps, jaw locking before he reels you tighter and snaps his hips forward, rutting against your throbbing clit. It’s the match that starts the fire, a million sparks prickling all over that has him taking you like a madman. 

“S - Steve!” you cry, music to his ears, as he hooks his elbows under your knees, bending them over his shoulders, and works your divided folds up and down the length of his translucent-white dribbling cock. Your arms shoot around his neck desperately while you bury your face in his neck, mewling into his collarbone; the vibration unmistakably his name. 

“I am going to fuck you, doll,” he promises through gritted teeth, using his hands palming your ass to grind your little pussy into him harshly, at the same time his hips rock into the assault. “I am going to shove every inch of my cock inside you, make it fit if you can’t. But first—first, you’re going to cum on my cock then you’re going cum around it.” 

Your weight is nothing to his hulking strength, bouncing you in undulation like you’re his own personal fuck-toy (somewhere in that darker, aggressive facet of him chides that’s exactly what you are; a wanton toy to use to his desire). 

Every upward thrust is grating over your bundle of nerves, coaxing gush and gush of your essence. Mixed with his own liquid arousal, it further lubricates his slippery anatomy and empowers quicker ministrations—filling the room with your crescendos of whimpers and moans. 

“Y’like it when I make your pretty lil’ pussy grind against my cock? When the tip rubs over your soft clit?” he says, winded, in your ear as you shake like a leaf in the steel cage that is him. “Or d’you like knowing despite how bad I need to be balls-deep inside you I have to wait ‘cause your tiny pussy won’t be able to take it yet?” 

“Oh. God. Steve—” you moan, raking your nails into his flexing back muscles, and he revels in the faint sting. “I - I—it feels good. Fuck, it feels so good.”

Shocks needle down his spine and gnaw in his lower stomach while static nibbles at his limbs; a prelude to a knee-buckling reckoning. “Y’gonna cum for me, beautiful?” He can feel the tautness constricting in your body, the crook of your calves as your toes curl. “Want you to. Wanna know what’s gonna happen when you do?” He doesn’t wait for a response, especially when you’re borderline incoherent. “It’s gonna loosen you up for me. Get your pussy prepared to take all of my big, fat cock. And, you fuckin’ will. Y’hear me?” 

At that point, he’s unsure whether you nodded or not because your head does bob, but so does the rest of you. His neck muffles your cry as you buck wildly against him, and if that isn’t telling enough, he can feel your engorged nub pulsating with euphoria. 

And he can’t resist it. The threat of his violent upcoming orgasm; the fact that he knows your channel is clamping down hallowly; the earlier declaration of being able to handle him easily, it all overwhelms him. 

In a millisecond, before his mind comprehends what his instincts are doing, his hands slip from underneath your bottom to either side of your slit, and his thumbs spread your opening. He heaves you up, and when gravity brings you down, his well-endowed cock drives into your spasming insides. 

With an audible wet slush and slap of skin, he powers through your channel harshly until he’s seated to the hilt. In the throes of your orgasm—before he could stretch you first like he intended—inches that outwardly reached your belly button, width that dwarfed your mound  invades your walls in one blunt movement. 

The orgasm is still flooding you but it’s combined with the convulsions of vanquished hollowness and encompassing fullness. To be perfectly fucking honest, it’s heaven: snug, fervid heaven. And he wastes no time losing himself in you, fucking you through your stimulation while you’re rendered to a babbling mess.

“Oh - oh, my—Steve!” you squeal as your rubber-band-like resistance desperately tries to accommodate the intrusion of his size. “Big—you’re big—I didn’t realize you were so b - big—” 

“But you’re going to take it, aren’t you? Said you could, swore you’d handle me like no other before, right?” he croons and continues to decimate your swollen valley. “I told you you’d cum on my cock and around it, and that’s what you’re gonna do.” The order has your strangling heat fluttering in delight. “Unless you aren’t as big and bad as you claimed to be.” 

You gasp and cling tighter. “I can - I can,” you whimper, and it’s so cute—he can’t wait to fuck you until you pass out. “Just a minute. I can’t cum yet—n - not yet.” 

He laughs huskily because he knows he’s gonna to make you do exactly that. “Yeah, we’ll see about that, doll,” he practically purrs and cinches you closer so with each pass of his hips, your sensitive clit is chafing against his pubic bone; it has the intended effect of forcing your swollen walls to quiver around him.

“Shit,” you choke. “I can’t - I can’t—”

Motivated by your disbelieving insistence, he reaffirms his grip and pistons through your folds quicker. He ebbs deeper and deeper with the combination of his hips ramming in and his hands controlling your body so your channel swallows him all the way. 

Rising sensations pulse within him at an alarming rate, numbness climbing up his toes to cover him completely, encasing his nerves with an escalating bliss. In a minute, he’s going to blow and empty the contents of his balls into your never ending, clamping depths—and he can’t wait to see your reaction when he does, what it’ll look like to have his thick white dribbling out of you. 

That thought spurs him on, and he abruptly props you on the kitchen counter. There’s no break for your used pussy as he slithers a free hand to fist your throat, laying you flat against the cold granite.

“You are gonna cum for me,” he growls, voice unrecognizable with animalistic carnality. The sheening and flushed exertion on your face, the moans vibrating up your esophagus and the wriggle of your body is mesmerizing and provoking. “And you’re going to make me cum while you do it. Your tiny pussy is gonna milk my big cock until I’m flooding you full of me.”

He ruffles your shirt up and out of the way, giving him a glimpse of the single hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. As his hips jut back and forth, the indent of his bulbous tip prods visibly from your stomach; he can see himself bulging low in your belly. 

He releases the unholiest of groans as lightning zaps through him, tactfully shocking his pressure points while his blood pumps to his dick, and he swells bigger inside you. The temperature is boiling to the top, and when your warbling voice breaks into his haze, “Steve—Steve—Steve—!” his eyes snap open. 

His gaze drags further down, he’s greeted with the eyeful of your exploited mound: puffy and swollen from his unyielding, punishing onslaught, your clit peaking through faintly as if beckoning for his touch. Of course, he obliges you—he has zero idea how he managed to deny himself of you in the past. 

The second he thumbs at the little nubbin, you’re sobbing his name and squelching around his cock. In a domino effect, the lava blasts from the bottom of his gut to your enveloping convulsions; sheathed to the hilt, a visual ingrained in his memory of his cockhead pushing up inside your stomach, he pours all the mania he’s kept locked away into you. 

Riding out the wave, he watches how you cream around him when he retreats from you. A ring of clear white contrasts against your bruised sex and his tanned length, the mix of your essences oozing down his balls and onto the floor. 

“Fuck,” he says hoarsely. “That’s hot.” 

There’s a periodic twitch of you, and he glances up to see you staring at him, glossy-eyed but undoubtedly satisfied. “You. . . that was. . . God,” is all you manage, and pride blooms in his chest—at the fact that you kept up, and at the fact he did you good. “You’re amazing.” 

“You did good, doll,” he speaks roughly, the hand around your throat tracing your pulse. “I couldn’t have thought of a better way for this to have gone. . .” Despite his recent orgasm, there’s a hunger clawing back to the surface as he observes the way you’re splayed out like an offering, fucked to the point of limpness. “Or, to be going. . .” 

“S - Steve,” you whimper but it isn’t a protest, far from it, he can tell. 

So he continues to trail his hand to your clit, encircling it while you give a half-hearted bleat. He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip and maneuvers his hips until his growing semi is teasing your cum-dripping entrance. “Y’said you could handle me, doll,” he murmurs and promptly glides right back into you, and a wanton cry tears from your lips. “Let’s see how true that is.” 

[masterlist / feedback]

[newtafterdark]

Taste of Metal - Chapter 12: Turning up the Volume -  [AO3 LINK]

The song Gordon is singing in this chapter is "I Hate to Dance" by Mustasch! Click here to listen to it!

PS: The alternative title for this chapter: "Gordon Goes Apeshit In A Healthy Way!! YEAH!! >:D"

- - - It was always something else to hear how your voice sounded like to everyone but yourself.

Gordon had been used to it for a long time, mostly thanks to the years he recorded music with his band, but seeing his new friends react to his recorded songs made him pause a bit in thought.

When he and Newton had founded “Black Velvet Rabbits” together, both of their voices were still in the middle of their second puberty. Uneven, scratchy at times… and by far not as resilient as they wanted them to be.

That didn’t mean it stopped either of them from putting their heart and soul into every song they played. It made their first few tapes rough to listen to, but Gordon felt a huge amount of fondness for them regardless. 

All their frustration with their lives, the school system, society, their bodies, their struggles with ADHD and BPD respectively-  it all went into their music. 

It was the sound of desperately struggling youths doing anything they could in their limited power to be heard.

Gordon was well aware that some of their former bandmates thought back to BVR and rolled their eyes at their gigs and “rockstar dreams”. He himself though? He was proud. Both of himself and Newton.  Proud of having this tangible proof that they got through one of the hardest times of their lives together, doing something that they had put together with no outside help, with no overbearing parental figures forcing them to succeed. They created music because it was the one thing they had complete control over… and it had been absolutely intoxicating and freeing at the same time. 

Even now, as their old recordings played in the background, Gordon found himself gently swaying side to side to the tempo of the tune, humming softly along as he was sorting through the remaining contents of the boxes on the floor.

He looked up from his spot, smiling fondly at Bubby letting out a cry of joy when he recognized another classic rock song that BVR had recorded a cover of. 

“Your band might sound like absolute ass but at least they had taste!”, he exclaimed, drumming happily along to the beat on the floor beside Gordon.

“Yeah… our sound quality wasn’t the greatest until… 2014, I think? ”, Gordon pondered out loud. “You’ll notice the change instantly though! Around that time we also actually figured out in which direction we wanted to take our style as well. Took us a while, I know, but… good things take time!”

Speaking of good things taking time- the construction of the pocket dimension within the storage closet seemed to be going nice and steady by the looks of it. 

Every time the doors opened and Tommy stepped out to take a small break, Gordon couldn’t help trying to catch a glimpse inside, which kept earning him a loud “NO PEAKING!” from Tommy- only for him to hear it echoed by Dr Coomer, Benrey and Joshua seconds later.

When eventually each member of the Science Team joined Tommy to help out with the closet, Gordon let himself be focused on his sorting task, Sunkist laying beside him as his only company for the time being. 

“Guess it’s only the two of us for a bit, huh?”, he said, giving the huge dog a few loving pats on her side. Sunkist let out an affirmative woof and rested her head on Gordon’s thigh, earning a smile from Gordon. 

He resumed swaying along to a new tune starting to play on the stereo, now allowing himself to add a few more subtle movements as well. 

He found himself nodding along to the rhythm, his long wavy hair swaying in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.

As the side of his right foot began to gently tap against the floor as well, Sunkist got up and pushed her head against Gordon’s shoulder. 

Gordon stared at her for a moment, unsure of what she expected him to do, but as the golden retriever started to gently dig into the carpet surprisingly in tune with the beat, something clicked in Gordon’s head.

He scrambled to get up on his feet, laughed as Sunkist let out a happy bark and started running excited circles around him when he started tapping his foot again.

It had been a while… but no one was in the room right now to judge him. And Sunkist, being the perfect and most supportive dog, would never make him feel guilty about any of this.

He looked down to his tapping feet, his hand closed into a fist as he assembles the old courage and opened his mouth-

“♫ I ain't a boring barfly…so please don't get me wrong, oh- Come on! Yeah, come on! I've been saying this for. Far. Too. LooooOOOONG!! ♪”

Gordon felt himself smile as he raised his voice, mirroring the energy of the younger version of it coming from the speakers.

As he moved his hips and head in rhythm to the beat of the tune, he leaned down towards Sunkist and decided at the moment that, hey, she might be the best audience he had in years - might as well sing for the best girl!

She positively bounced excitedly around Gordon’s feet as the man himself started to jump along with her and the music-

“♪ I haaaate to disappoint you! I'm not the guy you need- so, feel freeee! You can leeeeave! ‘Cause I'll nEVER SWING LIKE A MONKEY FROM. THE. TREEEEES! ♫”

Sunkist let out a loud approving bark at the sound of Gordon letting himself be loud, but this time fully because of joy, nothing like the pained and frustrated yelling he had done all throughout the simulation.

This was how Gordon was supposed to sound like. Loud, happy and confident-

“♪ It’s of great importance! This is what yOU. ALL. SHOULD. DOOOOO- ♫”

The possibility of complaining neighbours be damned, Gordon rushed over to this stereo and turned the volume significantly up, still mindful of Sunkist being in the room with him. No matter how perfect Tommy made her, Gordon really didn’t want to accidentally hurt her hearing.

He returned to moving around the living room, his steps becoming confident stomping as he basically had Sunkist follow his path between the furniture at this point. He ran his hand through his hair, letting the majority of it fall over the right side of his head, showing off the remainder of his undercut on the left in the process-

“♫ BANG YOUR HEAD CLEAN OFF, JUST DO IT!! STOMP YOUR FEET AND CLAP YOUR H-HANDS-!! ♪”

He roughly brushed away a barely formed tear from his right eye, opting to stomp his feet in place of clapping his hands to the beat. He wouldn’t let his pain and trauma cut this moment short. Singing had been his outlet for all his frustrations before, why shouldn’t he try and find out if it would still hold up with the new struggles he was facing?

“♫ I AM A HEAVY METAL GROOVER! - BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! ♪”

Sunkist affectionately pressed herself against Gordon’s side, sensing the man’s wild mix of emotions running through his head. Gordon opted to give Sunkist’s back a pat to assure her that he was doing okay. That he needed to do this. To let this all out. 

He took a deep breath-

“♪ So take me away from the dance floor- Nemo saltat sobrius - Well, that's right... fucking right. I've been telling you for far too looooooOOOONG! ♫”

He closed his eyes, his focus now only on putting as much emphasis on the words as he could. As he used to. As Gordon Martini Freeman of the “Black Velvet Rabbits” had been known for.

“♫ I haaaate to disappoint you! But I'm not the guy you need- You can leeeeave, ‘cause to meee- DISCO. DIED. IN. 1983!! ♪”

He spread his arms, his head slightly falling back and his hair following suit… and he could almost feel the comforting heat of spotlights on his skin once more-

“♪ It’s of great importance! This is what yOU. ALL. SHOULD. DOOOOO!- ♫”

He bent back forward, letting himself go off into a poorly executed guitar solo as he headbanged to the beat, his hair flying back and forth, side to side-

“♫ BANG YOUR HEAD CLEAN OFF, JUST DO IT!! STOMP YOUR FEET AND CLAP YOUR HANDS-!!  I AM A HEAVY METAL GROOVER! - BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! BANG YOUR HEAD ‘CAUSE I HATE TO DANCE! - BANG THE HEAD THAT DOESN’T BANG!!~ ♪”

Gordon stood there for a moment, out of breath, hair wild and messy, chest heaving and eyes blown wide. He was only pulled back into reality from his post-rockout brain by Sunkist jumping up on him and licking his face-

“Hahaha!! Yeah, this was fun, wasn’t it, big girl?! Thanks for the encouragement, Sunkist. I mean it. I… really needed that.”

He hugged her close before gently letting her get back on all fours, smiling as she let out a soft bark and pressed herself against his side once more, her tail wagging happily-

“Well, I’ll be damned. Sounds like you don’t sound like ass anymore after all!”

Gordon spun around, instantly locking eyes with Bubby, who was leaning against the frame of the closet, arms crossed and a smug smile on his face.

“H-How much of that did you-”

“I heard enough to know that my eardrums can stand the sound of it.”, Bubby answered, “You don’t sound half bad. Obviously out of practice, but… not awful.”

Gordon scratched the back of his neck, trying to process the rare compliment coming from the older scientist.

“Uh… thanks? A-ANYWAY- how’s the pocket dimension going?”, he quickly added to move the topic elsewhere.

Bubby rolled his eyes at Gordon's obvious deflection.

“It could go way faster in my opinion! But the hallway and the basic rooms are stable now. I won’t invite you in without the others agreeing on it too, but… it’s nice. Having your own space to do with as you please, as barren as it might be at the moment-”

In the time Bubby had spoken, Gordon had walked over to him, now resting his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.

“Hey, I might not have the biggest savings, but that won’t stop me from helping you guys find stuff for your space, okay? I know a few places we could visit sometime this week! But… first I do want to go shopping with you all to let you pick stuff for your wardrobes!”

Bubby stared up to him, a slightly startled look on his face.

“You’ll… let us… pick?”

Gordon smiled softly, hoping it looked reassuring.

“Of course! As long as you all don’t get me into the reds with your purchases, you are free to pick as many things as you want, now that you all have your own space. Honestly… go wild! Did- Do you think I’d limit you? Bubby, you guys are my friends! If anything, I wholeheartedly encourage you to get lost for hours in the nearby thrift stores and find your own style- HURGH!-

Gordon found himself pulled into a tight hug- which only lasted for two seconds.

As Bubby pulled back, he looked away, brows furrowed.

“Thanks. You- you don’t get how much this means to- ...thank you, Gordon.”

“You’re welcome. Uh… should I go get us some food for when you guys are done or-”

“GOD! YES! Fuck off before this moment gets even more awkward!”, Bubby exclaimed with frustration, a hint of a smile tugging on the edge of his mouth.

Gordon threw up his hand in mock defence, not even trying to hide his grin.

[jjwritten]

Yum.

Can’t believe that BTS brought me a) back into fandoms shenanigans, b) back into writing. Almost 10 years without writing a full thing, 10 years without publishing. 

For Yum, I went with the flow of how I imagine Yoongi's “best” romantic relationship. I have a few more drabbles for this specific dynamic :) To anyone who might find this and reads, I hope you have a decent time.

tags: bts!Yoongi, fem!reader, fluffy fluff, a short smut, gender neutral additionnal characters, overworking, did I say fluff because fluff, domestic au, slice of life

warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex, health (nutrition and physical activity), overworking, a tiny bit of cockwarming, fingering, 

7,902 words

Remind me what you said you were going to do to me, please.

You waited a few seconds. Yoongi was looking at his screen, you knew it because he just had answered you at lightspeed. Yet the 3 dots wouldn't stop dancing. When they did, no answer appeared. Cool. Left on read, nice. You laughed it off, your boyfriend of three years being prone to this type of behavior. You also predicted to receive an elaborate answer in a couple hours, once the moment was gone. In the meantime, you should get back to work.

It had been about a month of overworking yourself for this massive new project. You were working on it with your best friend, in the interest of a big client. The stakes were big. Within this single project, you would provide a job to about 1000 artists, show engineers, students who wanted to debut in the business, and another thousand jobs in merch production. The reflexion upon finances was mind wracking, but was also the most rewarding. Everyone should be paid as much as possible. The show should be of the utmost quality which would require hours and hours of paid rehearsals. You and your best friend had to figure out the whole plan, the whole system, in order for the buyer to have no reason to refuse. They had called your duo, especially, to invest in a larger-than-life show, given that your ideas would blow their minds. People with big money who were dangling a whole pack of carrots in front of two ambitious passionate creators. Your motivation was simple : gathering all kinds of story tellers. With the experience you and your friend had, the show would border perfection in execution, with people from all over the globe, hired for their talents and work ethic.  A month of intense focus would hopefully transform the dream into reality.

Your success depended on your and your bf’s efforts. It also relied on the people around you. Min Yoongi loved you for your creativity, your humanity, the way your ears were shaped, the way you stopped seeing your surroundings to immerse yourself in the picture you were trying to paint when telling a story. The observant Jimin never missed to point it out: Yoongi became silent everytime, all heart eyes. "It's just my favorite thing ever," the rapper shrugged. To you, it was incredibly comforting. Being loved by him and loving him provided enough security for you to challenge yourself to be better. Never before in a relationship could you have become a zombie in your personal life to favor a work project. But Yoongi got it. Silently, he took care of your personal life’s reality: the construction work in the bathroom, the packages, the finances, the groceries, and making sure you ate nutritious foods and slept a healing sleep. He was a soft presence, making sure you had everything you needed to hustle. Everytime you would try paying attention to him in the midst of an overwhelmed brain and painful exhaustion, he'd reassure you. "We have time, baby. Sleep, eat, work. Don't worry about me. I'm proud of you." I love you, you whisper out loud, smiling. You let yourself indulge a little more in the recent memories.

"Y/n, come back hug me in the kitchen. It's almost ready." Yoongi whined, his head peaking at the door of your bedroom. "I think you need a little break. That frown has been on your face since Monday." You nodded. "I'll be right there." He doubted it, but turned back humming. You closed your computer and put it on the floor on your side of the bed. Yoongi had moved the bed on the right side of the room when you moved. Before, when you walked in, the right side of the bed was right next to the door. You wanted the left side because it was closest to the window, which, capital-D Dramatic Yoongi-ssi could not comprehend how you could POSSIBLY imagine he would sleep on the right side of a bed..  "I need the window!!! I always sleep on the window side!! - Since when??! - Since the day I was born, and most likely in my past lived too, you said through your teeth. - You slept on the right side of the bed all right in New York, huh? - BECAUSE IT WAS NEXT TO THE WINDOW!!! I can’t sleep next to the door, what if robbers come in?? I need the right side! - What do you mean, if robbers come in?? You plan on leaving me for dead?! - You bet. It's each human for their lives, oppa." Despite your sarcastic tone at the word, Yoongi still smirked. Run BTS editors' would have put a blushing filter on his cheeks. "You're mean", he whined. You smiled at his flushing face, and wrapped your hands around his waist. His hands landed automatically on your shoulders. His instincts said to push you away, but his body maintained you in place. Back then, you thought Yoongi would never admit how much he loved how tactile you were. Skip forward a year and a half, and he demands his cuddles, like a big boy. "Let's just put the bed on the other side of the room, mh?" The softness of his tone made your heart flutter. You kissed his cheek. "You are such a great problem-solver, oppa. I love your mind. - ‘ehh"

You stretched in the bed, and rolled on your stomach, taking a deep breath in of yours and Yoongi's smells in the sheets. His lazy footsteps in the corridor were the last thing you heard before drifting off.

"My love..." Yoongi's hand was stroking your hair, his mouth landing little pecks on the side of your face. "Come eat, babe." His voice was so soft. "I'm sorry, honey boy. I'm just too tired. - It's been four weeks, y/n. You need a break now. Come eat, and take the morning off tomorrow. I'll take care of you." You sat up at the temptation. Bed hair and pouty lips did not take away the worried look on his face. "Two more days. Just two more days, and I'll be back. - I can do 24 hours at best. It's getting too much, you don't even sleep well anymore. I have received my fair share of slaps in the face in the middle of night." You laugh. "24 hours is not possible. I'm leaving at 6am tomorrow for Tokyo. bf and I have meetings all day. Then again on Friday. I should be back home Saturday morning. I'll wake you up in your favorite way. - With coffee? - And with coffee, sure. - Don't tease me. By Saturday, you will be close to decomposing from how dead you look right now. - Oh, thanks." He laughs. "Fine. Except you don't take care of me, I take care of you. Massages, cuddles, movies, bulgogi and fruity dairy free ice-cream... - Ooooh, dairy free ice cream? Sounds like you'll be taking care of yourself too. - Yeah, I deserve it. Plus, taking care of you is taking care of me. I need it, you need it. - Fair enough. Is there still room for sex? - Haha. Is there room for sex, haha. Hahaha. He shakes his shoulders as he pretends to laugh. - Does that mean a lot? your eyebrows question too. - I can't say for now. It depends on whether I'm dealing with a decomposing girlfriend, or if she's feeling herself. - Double standards. I see. - You better sleep well in the plane."

Five minutes of daydreaming have passed, and that's all the time you have. Back to work.

2 billion dollars. Two. Billion. Dollars. USD $2,000,000,000. 2,198,960,000,000 KRW. You and your best friend have been sitting in the airport lounge, processing. You thought you were developing a project for Japan. Turned out, the investors had planned to make it international all along. Tokyo, Buenos Aires, Los Angeles, Paris, El Jadida. The project will be ten times as big as you initially thought it would be, and extend over the course of three years. The team would be huge to help. Your dream had become reality five years ago when you both launched the company. You don't even know how to react to it being stretched like that.

The key-card to your door weighs a ton in your hand. You clumsily make your way inside, pushing your carrier in front of you. Shoes off, you drag your heavy body to the bedroom and let it crash into the bed. Naturally, Yoongi’s body is where it’s supposed to be, his knees in an L shape. Your face is planted in the blanket. Deep sigh. End of the road. Disconnect system. It’s break time. Long fingers find their way to your hair. “You good, baby? - Dude. Get up. Have so much to tell you.” You hear muffling. He's not moving. “Dude. Bf and I got a two BILLION check, get up. - Two billion?!” Yoongi is up. You proceed to tell him everything. Finally, you can explain to him what this project was about. He listens carefully, cheerfully, sometimes reacts excessively. You don’t care, you do the same because it feels like a reunion and you’re both overly excited to meet again. The both of you on the bed feels like being on your own island. Your tummy tickles with joy for the present, the moments you are going to spend with Yoongi and for the bigger picture with the unfolding of your project. Within a few hours of talking, the month of intense focus and routine is released. You fall asleep in the middle of a sentence, utterly relaxed. Yoongi presses a kiss between your nose and lips, first spot that came, before falling asleep too.

12PM. Eternal question: is it good morning or good afternoon? Knowing your boyfriend, you better think of it before you open your mouth. “Hi.” You say smiling. That will do. “Hi, love.” He breathes you in loudly. You wriggle your nose in his neck. His arms are wrapped around you, yours around him. Couldn’t think of a better place to be in. You both scratch yourselves on each other, rubbing your forehead on his cheek, him massaging your hands, kissing your hair, ears, kissing his nose, lips. For some reason, his bottom lip looks especially plumped to your half-open eyes. You spend more time nibbling on it, kissing it on its own without him giving the kiss back. Delicious. Hands rubbing all over, your brain starts working properly. Wait a minute? Yoongi’s usually soft tummy feels particularly toned. You lift the covers. “Mh, did I miss something? - Whatever, you hear him smirk though. - Come on, show me. - Aw, leave me alone, it’s cold.” He lies on his stomach, a big smile on his face making his cheeks look all soft and bite worthy. You allow yourself the indulgence. You are all excited now! You jump out of bed. "Okay, so coffee and then abs, okay?" With smily mhmhs, your adorable boyfriend rubs his face in the pillow. He's shy, you know. His body image is important to him. You feel bad for not having noticed. Knowing the man, he probably flaunted his buff bod as if it were nothing on week 1. Damn! Then on week 2, he most likely tried to have you feel them, "naturally". You're a little sad to have missed those cues, and some of them resurface in your foggy memory. Your routine was so strict during the past month: wake up, meditate, work out, to make sure your brain worked optimally during the day. Work outs were intense because serotonin helps a ton. Food was rich and nutritious, cooked with the most important ingredient in this household, the love of Min Yoongi. Not noticing the changes in your own body was a thing, but to miss out on your buff boyfriend? A no go. You grabbed everything to make him his iced coffee in the largest cup you could find, knowing he would l-o-v-e the look of quasi-eternal quantity. You were light on your feet, smiling at the peeled pineapple and singing to the pack of nuts. Yoongi’s face was slightly round a month ago, and he looked a little buff already. The first week, the fat must have melted a little bit to turn into juicy muscles. Then, with him making sure your brain was working full power, he fed himself the same foods. Your focus spur basically fed your boyfriend buff food. What did you do to yourself and above all, HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE IT?! As you put the spoons in the greek yogurts, you think of his little face smushed in the pillow as he pretended not to be excited by you finally noticing. You know that he's proud of himself and happy that you finally got all of your senses back. What a fun day ahead. With a smile up to your ears and a plate of things that should power up the man, you mini-skip back to your room.

Being with Yoongi meant you had about 10 boyfriends behind the same deep brown eyes. He could be a giggly chubby boy with his little bucket hats that he loved, making him look like an elf. He could be a meaty dude with an attitude and deep stare. He could be a skinny tech-boy with quick witts and always a book in his hands, and he could be business-Yoongi, dressed in all black and loving the sound of his big rings clinging together. What was even more beautiful was that all of these traits were interchangeable. Skinny Yoongi could have an attitude and a bucket hat. Buff Yoongi could be giggly and nerdy. He could do it all at anytime. Beneath it all, the constant of his intellect and emotionality made Min Yoongi appear as if he adorned a bow and ribbon at all times, ready to be gifted and unwrapped and enjoyed. Yum, you think.

"Coffee!"

Yoongi is on his phone in the bed. The AC is blasting hot air in a soothing sound. You can't help but laugh when you notice the naked skin of his chest peaking over the sheets, and his pyjamas thrown on the floor.

"Why-why-why? Why are you laughing? - Min Yoongi, I love it when you're feeling yourself. Please, drink this and put on a show for me. - Aren't you being a little dramatic? he hisses and bubbles his saliva. It's just abs and pecs, he says as he drinks, eye brows raising up his forehead. Five and six are barely defined.” He’s referring to his six-pack. You squint. “You..." He cocks his head as to say "I know, I'm hot" and your body is warming up.

Breakfast is made more delicious by Yoongi's feet rubbing against yours under the blanket. You're sitting cross-legged in front of each other, on the little island that is your bed. TV's turned on for some light background sound but you only hear Yoongi's giggles in between his smart clapbacks and mouthfuls of yoghurt. Eventually, the plate is moved to the side so your legs can extend on his lap and you feed him pieces of pineapple. Your fingers go a little too far into his mouth, and he relishes in your squirming when his lips brush them softly. Soon enough, his tongue is licking the tip and there's no pineapple left. Meaning, no reason to take your fingers away. Your leg on his hip tells your brain that in classic Yoongi fashion, he's not wearing any underwear. It's getting really hot between the sexual tension and the heater being turned all the way on. It is one of your favorite thing to do on days off: the heat allows you both to stay naked without worry. Positions can change as much as you like. Sweat drops make the whole thing more slippery and sexy. It's messy and delicious. You can't wait to be in the middle of the action, but remember to enjoy the foreplay. Yoongi's tongue acts as a wet bed on your ring finger. You relish in the look of his hollowed cheeks and suck on your skin. Your free hand has a great idea, on its own: exploring that built up chest. It's firm and the skin is soft and milky. It still holds a little bit of fat that makes his pectorals bouncy. He's going to fuck you, and they're going to move. Ugh. You swallow your saliva. Yoongi's eyes are getting rounder with arrousal. His traits go slightly down, showing he is getting hot and needy. You can feel pins and needles tickling your labia. Your boyfriend treats all of your fingers with the same lubbed up care. He opens his mouth to lick them from the stems to the tips. "I'm taking care of you today, remember? You relax and enjoy, understood?" You gulp and nod. Your first feeling is disappointment: when Yoongi says "I'll take care of you" it mostly means he won't put his cock in your mouth. That's okay. It will be for the next round. You're salivating. Meanwhile, Yoongi's mouth is going up your arm, on the sensitive thin skin inside your elbow and upper-arm. His tongue glides along. He creates the pattern: plumped bottom lip first, lubbed tongue, top lip. The three tightened together and make a wet sound when he moves onto another spot. Your legs feel numb. You're amused by Yoongi's needy look, but worried about your own. You feel so empty and deprived. Your head is already reversed back. Yoongi's special care is getting your muscles to relax one by one, better than any guided meditation ever. He stops for a second to take off your -his- t-shirt. He guides you to sit against the head board and his mouth latches on your right nipple instantly. The position is making you anticipate what you know he's leading to, but the nipple in his mouth is bringing you back to the present. The tongue is playful. Saliva dripping. Wet. It's the word that comes to your mind and you feel your pussy overflowing. Soft moans escape you. Your eyes are closed. You notice how relaxed your body is. Your arms are splayed on your sides and your back is one with the headboard. You're getting too relaxed. Yoongi makes his way to the other nipple and your body tenses up suddenly. Hands to his hair, ruffling. You realize his hands are on both sides of your stomach, keeping you still. You can't help to wonder for how long they've been there. "Yoongi..." It's not a prompt. You don't want him to go faster. Saying his name feels right. Yet, the air shifts. "y/n, mh" his raspy voice sends chills down your back. He kisses your mouth passionately and everything quickens. Shorter breaths, instant sweat. His hands cup your face to bring you to sit up. They slide down to your waist and you get up on your knees to let him grab your ass cheeks. He spreads them, making you moan as you feel your pussy more exposed. Your hands now cup his cheeks to get him closer, before sliding in the back of his head to plunge your fingers in his silky hair. Yoongi's hard bare cock is pressing against your cotton underwear.  Both your hands go down to his shoulders in a light touch. In the midst of anticipation, you both are melting under each other's touch. His fingers dig into the skin of your hips, yours in his shoulders. "You're leaking" you say, looking down at the wet tip of his cock and the wetness sticking to your lower stomach. "No kidding." You smile into another kiss. He dips in your neck to leave wet kisses. As your head angles to give him more space, you catch a glimpse of your reflexion in the mirror. His perky toned ass is jerking up and down as he slowly ruts against you. Your hands powerlessly fall on his ass, and the image brings you back to the urgency. You squeeze and get his mouth back on your own. He spreads your legs bringing his hands in between your thighs. He is so needy. Yoongi slides his member up and down your slit and starts slowly penetrating you. Your pussy fills up slowly. He pushes himself as deeply in as he can, stays still for a couple seconds and slides back out, his tip still lightly touching your entrance. You open your eyes to look at him in the mirror, slim legs steady on the bed. Your hands still on his ass cheeks, he pushes himself back in. It's slow, controlled, powerful. He goes in the same way for a third time: "Fuck, I love you." You smile. He's not talking to you, but to your pussy. You kiss him and press on his hips to have him go faster. "I turn around? - Yes." His arms wrap around your waist softly as you press your back against his front. One hand holding onto the wall, the other on the back of his neck. You arch your back to give him better access. His cock fills you up again, this time offering your G-spot some electrifying friction. His rythm accelerates, senses slowly getting lost. He starts groaning, you start moaning. Somehow, your brain manages to list very quickly everything you'll do to him, and everything you'll have him do to you. It turns you on even more, fantasizing about Yoongi and you having more sex while having sex. His long middle finger comes pressing your clit, going up and down to your entrance, where he invites the tip of it to join his dick. You always thought of his fingers as fingering fingers. They’re the perfect shape. Your pussy is pliant and delirious. She's directing your body and your mind. None of what she says makes logical sense but, fuck, she happy. The chills in your spine, your erected nipples, Yoongi tightly pressed against you. His head often reverses back, chasing his own pleasure, hipsRemind me what you said you were going to do to me, please.You waited a few seconds. Yoongi was looking at his screen, you knew it because he just had answered you at lightspeed. Yet the 3 dots wouldn't stop dancing. When they did, no answer appeared. Cool. Left on read, nice. You laughed it off, your boyfriend of three years being prone to this type of behavior. You also predicted to receive an elaborate answer in a couple hours, once the moment was gone. In the meantime, you should get back to work.It had been about a month of overworking yourself for this massive new project. You were working on it with your best friend, in the interest of a big client. The stakes were big. Within this single project, you would provide a job to about 1000 artists, show engineers, students who wanted to debut in the business, and another thousand jobs in merch production. The reflexion upon finances was mind wracking, but was also the most rewarding. Everyone should be paid as much as possible. The show should be of the utmost quality which would require hours and hours of paid rehearsals. You and your best friend had to figure out the whole plan, the whole system, in order for the buyer to have no reason to refuse. They had called your duo, especially, to invest in a larger-than-life show, given that your ideas would blow their minds. People with big money who were dangling a whole pack of carrots in front of two ambitious passionate creators. Your motivation was simple : gathering all kinds of story tellers. With the experience you and your friend had, the show would border perfection in execution, with people from all over the globe, hired for their talents and work ethic. A month of intense focus would hopefully transform the dream into reality.Your success depended on your and your bf’s efforts. It also relied on the people around you. Min Yoongi loved you for your creativity, your humanity, the way your ears were shaped, the way you stopped seeing your surroundings to immerse yourself in the picture you were trying to paint when telling a story. The observant Jimin never missed to point it out: Yoongi became silent everytime, all heart eyes. "It's just my favorite thing ever," the rapper shrugged. To you, it was incredibly comforting. Being loved by him and loving him provided enough security for you to challenge yourself to be better. Never before in a relationship could you have become a zombie in your personal life to favor a work project. But Yoongi got it. Silently, he took care of your personal life’s reality: the construction work in the bathroom, the packages, the finances, the groceries, and making sure you ate nutritious foods and slept a healing sleep. He was a soft presence, making sure you had everything you needed to hustle. Everytime you would try paying attention to him in the midst of an overwhelmed brain and painful exhaustion, he'd reassure you. "We have time, baby. Sleep, eat, work. Don't worry about me. I'm proud of you." I love you, you whisper out loud, smiling. You let yourself indulge a little more in the recent memories."Y/n, come back hug me in the kitchen. It's almost ready." Yoongi whined, his head peaking at the door of your bedroom. "I think you need a little break. That frown has been on your face since Monday." You nodded. "I'll be right there." He doubted it, but turned back humming. You closed your computer and put it on the floor on your side of the bed. Yoongi had moved the bed on the right side of the room when you moved. Before, when you walked in, the right side of the bed was right next to the door. You wanted the left side because it was closest to the window, which, capital-D Dramatic Yoongi-ssi could not comprehend how you could POSSIBLY imagine he would sleep on the right side of a bed.. "I need the window!!! I always sleep on the window side!! - Since when??! - Since the day I was born, and most likely in my past lived too, you said through your teeth. - You slept on the right side of the bed all right in New York, huh? - BECAUSE IT WAS NEXT TO THE WINDOW!!! I can’t sleep next to the door, what if robbers come in?? I need the right side! - What do you mean, if robbers come in?? You plan on leaving me for dead?! - You bet. It's each human for their lives, oppa." Despite your sarcastic tone at the word, Yoongi still smirked. Run BTS editors' would have put a blushing filter on his cheeks. "You're mean", he whined. You smiled at his flushing face, and wrapped your hands around his waist. His hands landed automatically on your shoulders. His instincts said to push you away, but his body maintained you in place. Back then, you thought Yoongi would never admit how much he loved how tactile you were. Skip forward a year and a half, and he demands his cuddles, like a big boy. "Let's just put the bed on the other side of the room, mh?" The softness of his tone made your heart flutter. You kissed his cheek. "You are such a great problem-solver, oppa. I love your mind. - ‘ehh"You stretched in the bed, and rolled on your stomach, taking a deep breath in of yours and Yoongi's smells in the sheets. His lazy footsteps in the corridor were the last thing you heard before drifting off."My love..." Yoongi's hand was stroking your hair, his mouth landing little pecks on the side of your face. "Come eat, babe." His voice was so soft. "I'm sorry, honey boy. I'm just too tired. - It's been four weeks, y/n. You need a break now. Come eat, and take the morning off tomorrow. I'll take care of you." You sat up at the temptation. Bed hair and pouty lips did not take away the worried look on his face. "Two more days. Just two more days, and I'll be back. - I can do 24 hours at best. It's getting too much, you don't even sleep well anymore. I have received my fair share of slaps in the face in the middle of night." You laugh. "24 hours is not possible. I'm leaving at 6am tomorrow for Tokyo. bf and I have meetings all day. Then again on Friday. I should be back home Saturday morning. I'll wake you up in your favorite way. - With coffee? - And with coffee, sure. - Don't tease me. By Saturday, you will be close to decomposing from how dead you look right now. - Oh, thanks." He laughs. "Fine. Except you don't take care of me, I take care of you. Massages, cuddles, movies, bulgogi and fruity dairy free ice-cream... - Ooooh, dairy free ice cream? Sounds like you'll be taking care of yourself too. - Yeah, I deserve it. Plus, taking care of you is taking care of me. I need it, you need it. - Fair enough. Is there still room for sex? - Haha. Is there room for sex, haha. Hahaha. He shakes his shoulders as he pretends to laugh. - Does that mean a lot? your eyebrows question too. - I can't say for now. It depends on whether I'm dealing with a decomposing girlfriend, or if she's feeling herself. - Double standards. I see. - You better sleep well in the plane."Five minutes of daydreaming have passed, and that's all the time you have. Back to work.2 billion dollars. Two. Billion. Dollars. USD $2,000,000,000. 2,198,960,000,000 KRW. You and your best friend have been sitting in the airport lounge, processing. You thought you were developing a project for Japan. Turned out, the investors had planned to make it international all along. Tokyo, Buenos Aires, Los Angeles, Paris, El Jadida. The project will be ten times as big as you initially thought it would be, and extend over the course of three years. The team would be huge to help. Your dream had become reality five years ago when you both launched the company. You don't even know how to react to it being stretched like that.The key-card to your door weighs a ton in your hand. You clumsily make your way inside, pushing your carrier in front of you. Shoes off, you drag your heavy body to the bedroom and let it crash into the bed. Naturally, Yoongi’s body is where it’s supposed to be, his knees in an L shape. Your face is planted in the blanket. Deep sigh. End of the road. Disconnect system. It’s break time. Long fingers find their way to your hair. “You good, baby? - Dude. Get up. Have so much to tell you.” You hear muffling. He's not moving. “Dude. Bf and I got a two BILLION check, get up. - Two billion?!” Yoongi is up. You proceed to tell him everything. Finally, you can explain to him what this project was about. He listens carefully, cheerfully, sometimes reacts excessively. You don’t care, you do the same because it feels like a reunion and you’re both overly excited to meet again. The both of you on the bed feels like being on your own island. Your tummy tickles with joy for the present, the moments you are going to spend with Yoongi and for the bigger picture with the unfolding of your project. Within a few hours of talking, the month of intense focus and routine is released. You fall asleep in the middle of a sentence, utterly relaxed. Yoongi presses a kiss between your nose and lips, first spot that came, before falling asleep too.12PM. Eternal question: is it good morning or good afternoon? Knowing your boyfriend, you better think of it before you open your mouth. “Hi.” You say smiling. That will do. “Hi, love.” He breathes you in loudly. You wriggle your nose in his neck. His arms are wrapped around you, yours around him. Couldn’t think of a better place to be in. You both scratch yourselves on each other, rubbing your forehead on his cheek, him massaging your hands, kissing your hair, ears, kissing his nose, lips. For some reason, his bottom lip looks especially plumped to your half-open eyes. You spend more time nibbling on it, kissing it on its own without him giving the kiss back. Delicious. Hands rubbing all over, your brain starts working properly. Wait a minute? Yoongi’s usually soft tummy feels particularly toned. You lift the covers. “Mh, did I miss something? - Whatever, you hear him smirk though. - Come on, show me. - Aw, leave me alone, it’s cold.” He lies on his stomach, a big smile on his face making his cheeks look all soft and bite worthy. You allow yourself the indulgence. You are all excited now! You jump out of bed. "Okay, so coffee and then abs, okay?" With smily mhmhs, your adorable boyfriend rubs his face in the pillow. He's shy, you know. His body image is important to him. You feel bad for not having noticed. Knowing the man, he probably flaunted his buff bod as if it were nothing on week 1. Damn! Then on week 2, he most likely tried to have you feel them, "naturally". You're a little sad to have missed those cues, and some of them resurface in your foggy memory. Your routine was so strict during the past month: wake up, meditate, work out, to make sure your brain worked optimally during the day. Work outs were intense because serotonin helps a ton. Food was rich and nutritious, cooked with the most important ingredient in this household, the love of Min Yoongi. Not noticing the changes in your own body was a thing, but to miss out on your buff boyfriend? A no go. You grabbed everything to make him his iced coffee in the largest cup you could find, knowing he would l-o-v-e the look of quasi-eternal quantity. You were light on your feet, smiling at the peeled pineapple and singing to the pack of nuts. Yoongi’s face was slightly round a month ago, and he looked a little buff already. The first week, the fat must have melted a little bit to turn into juicy muscles. Then, with him making sure your brain was working full power, he fed himself the same foods. Your focus spur basically fed your boyfriend buff food. What did you do to yourself and above all, HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE IT?! As you put the spoons in the greek yogurts, you think of his little face smushed in the pillow as he pretended not to be excited by you finally noticing. You know that he's proud of himself and happy that you finally got all of your senses back. What a fun day ahead. With a smile up to your ears and a plate of things that should power up the man, you mini-skip back to your room.Being with Yoongi meant you had about 10 boyfriends behind the same deep brown eyes. He could be a giggly chubby boy with his little bucket hats that he loved, making him look like an elf. He could be a meaty dude with an attitude and deep stare. He could be a skinny tech-boy with quick witts and always a book in his hands, and he could be business-Yoongi, dressed in all black and loving the sound of his big rings clinging together. What was even more beautiful was that all of these traits were interchangeable. Skinny Yoongi could have an attitude and a bucket hat. Buff Yoongi could be giggly and nerdy. He could do it all at anytime. Beneath it all, the constant of his intellect and emotionality made Min Yoongi appear as if he adorned a bow and ribbon at all times, ready to be gifted and unwrapped and enjoyed. Yum, you think."Coffee!"Yoongi is on his phone in the bed. The AC is blasting hot air in a soothing sound. You can't help but laugh when you notice the naked skin of his chest peaking over the sheets, and his pyjamas thrown on the floor."Why-why-why? Why are you laughing? - Min Yoongi, I love it when you're feeling yourself. Please, drink this and put on a show for me. - Aren't you being a little dramatic? he hisses and bubbles his saliva. It's just abs and pecs, he says as he drinks, eye brows raising up his forehead. Five and six are barely defined.” He’s referring to his six-pack. You squint. “You..." He cocks his head as to say "I know, I'm hot" and your body is warming up.Breakfast is made more delicious by Yoongi's feet rubbing against yours under the blanket. You're sitting cross-legged in front of each other, on the little island that is your bed. TV's turned on for some light background sound but you only hear Yoongi's giggles in between his smart clapbacks and mouthfuls of yoghurt. Eventually, the plate is moved to the side so your legs can extend on his lap and you feed him pieces of pineapple. Your fingers go a little too far into his mouth, and he relishes in your squirming when his lips brush them softly. Soon enough, his tongue is licking the tip and there's no pineapple left. Meaning, no reason to take your fingers away. Your leg on his hip tells your brain that in classic Yoongi fashion, he's not wearing any underwear. It's getting really hot between the sexual tension and the heater being turned all the way on. It is one of your favorite thing to do on days off: the heat allows you both to stay naked without worry. Positions can change as much as you like. Sweat drops make the whole thing more slippery and sexy. It's messy and delicious. You can't wait to be in the middle of the action, but remember to enjoy the foreplay. Yoongi's tongue acts as a wet bed on your ring finger. You relish in the look of his hollowed cheeks and suck on your skin. Your free hand has a great idea, on its own: exploring that built up chest. It's firm and the skin is soft and milky. It still holds a little bit of fat that makes his pectorals bouncy. He's going to fuck you, and they're going to move. Ugh. You swallow your saliva. Yoongi's eyes are getting rounder with arrousal. His traits go slightly down, showing he is getting hot and needy. You can feel pins and needles tickling your labia. Your boyfriend treats all of your fingers with the same lubbed up care. He opens his mouth to lick them from the stems to the tips. "I'm taking care of you today, remember? You relax and enjoy, understood?" You gulp and nod. Your first feeling is disappointment: when Yoongi says "I'll take care of you" it mostly means he won't put his cock in your mouth. That's okay. It will be for the next round. You're salivating. Meanwhile, Yoongi's mouth is going up your arm, on the sensitive thin skin inside your elbow and upper-arm. His tongue glides along. He creates the pattern: plumped bottom lip first, lubbed tongue, top lip. The three tightened together and make a wet sound when he moves onto another spot. Your legs feel numb. You're amused by Yoongi's needy look, but worried about your own. You feel so empty and deprived. Your head is already reversed back. Yoongi's special care is getting your muscles to relax one by one, better than any guided meditation ever. He stops for a second to take off your -his- t-shirt. He guides you to sit against the head board and his mouth latches on your right nipple instantly. The position is making you anticipate what you know he's leading to, but the nipple in his mouth is bringing you back to the present. The tongue is playful. Saliva dripping. Wet. It's the word that comes to your mind and you feel your pussy overflowing. Soft moans escape you. Your eyes are closed. You notice how relaxed your body is. Your arms are splayed on your sides and your back is one with the headboard. You're getting too relaxed. Yoongi makes his way to the other nipple and your body tenses up suddenly. Hands to his hair, ruffling. You realize his hands are on both sides of your stomach, keeping you still. You can't help to wonder for how long they've been there. "Yoongi..." It's not a prompt. You don't want him to go faster. Saying his name feels right. Yet, the air shifts. "y/n, mh" his raspy voice sends chills down your back. He kisses your mouth passionately and everything quickens. Shorter breaths, instant sweat. His hands cup your face to bring you to sit up. They slide down to your waist and you get up on your knees to let him grab your ass cheeks. He spreads them, making you moan as you feel your pussy more exposed. Your hands now cup his cheeks to get him closer, before sliding in the back of his head to plunge your fingers in his silky hair. Yoongi's hard bare cock is pressing against your cotton underwear.  Both your hands go down to his shoulders in a light touch. In the midst of anticipation, you both are melting under each other's touch. His fingers dig into the skin of your hips, yours in his shoulders. "You're leaking" you say, looking down at the wet tip of his cock and the wetness sticking to your lower stomach. "No kidding." You smile into another kiss. He dips in your neck to leave wet kisses. As your head angles to give him more space, you catch a glimpse of your reflexion in the mirror. His perky toned ass is jerking up and down as he slowly ruts against you. Your hands powerlessly fall on his ass, and the image brings you back to the urgency. You squeeze and get his mouth back on your own. He spreads your legs bringing his hands in between your thighs. He is so needy. Yoongi slides his member up and down your slit and starts slowly penetrating you. Your pussy fills up slowly. He pushes himself as deeply in as he can, stays still for a couple seconds and slides back out, his tip still lightly touching your entrance. You open your eyes to look at him in the mirror, slim legs steady on the bed. Your hands still on his ass cheeks, he pushes himself back in. It's slow, controlled, powerful. He goes in the same way for a third time: "Fuck, I love you." You smile. He's not talking to you, but to your pussy. You kiss him and press on his hips to have him go faster. "I turn around? - Yes." His arms wrap around your waist softly as you press your back against his front. One hand holding onto the wall, the other on the back of his neck. You arch your back to give him better access. His cock fills you up again, this time offering your G-spot some electrifying friction. His rythm accelerates, senses slowly getting lost. He starts groaning, you start moaning. Somehow, your brain manages to list very quickly everything you'll do to him, and everything you'll have him do to you. It turns you on even more, fantasizing about Yoongi and you having more sex while having sex. His long middle finger comes pressing your clit, going up and down to your entrance, where he invites the tip of it to join his dick. You always thought of his fingers as fingering fingers. They’re the perfect shape. Your pussy is pliant and delirious. She's directing your body and your mind. None of what she says makes logical sense but, fuck, she happy. The chills in your spine, your erected nipples, Yoongi tightly pressed against you. His head often reverses back, chasing his own pleasure, hips jerking quickly. Your hand keeps ruffling his hair. It’s rough and soft all at the same time. The movement of his hips become uncontrolled and erratic. Mh. The climax has him groan louder while you let out a deep audible sigh. He stays in, enjoying your warmth, catching his breath, humming softly, almost whining but in a low register. You come down from your high and kiss his cheek. He kisses yours, your neck, your shoulder before pulling out, your juices dripping down his veiny pale shaft and your legs. His hands settle on your sides, encouraging you to turn around. You embrace each other, tightly, both your hearts pounding. "I missed you. - I missed you too." Kiss. His tongue intertwines with yours and you're reminded of the dripping mess he made in your pussy. You put both your hands on each side of his precious head: "Clean me up, will you? - Mhmh" Yoongi pushes you back, spreads your legs, and laps away. Slowly and langidly. Cherry on the cake.Yoongi showers first to leave for his one meeting today. You'll have about two hours to yourself. Enough time for you to clean up the house, unpack your carrier, and take care of any little mundane task you overlooked this month. You both agreed on a 2000 pieces puzzle to order for when he comes back. What you don't think about is that sometimes, when you make plans, your cunt sneakily laughs. A puzzle? Not today.g quickly. Your hand keeps ruffling his hair. It’s rough and soft all at the same time. The movement of his hips become uncontrolled and erratic. Mh. The climax has him groan louder while you let out a deep audible sigh. He stays in, enjoying your warmth, catching his breath, humming softly, almost whining but in a low register. You come down from your high and kiss his cheek. He kisses yours, your neck, your shoulder before pulling out, your juices dripping down his veiny pale shaft and your legs. His hands settle on your sides, encouraging you to turn around. You embrace each other, tightly, both your hearts pounding. "I missed you. - I missed you too." Kiss. His tongue intertwines with yours and you're reminded of the dripping mess he made in your pussy. You put both your hands on each side of his precious head: "Clean me up, will you? - Mhmh" Yoongi pushes you back, spreads your legs, and laps away. Slowly and langidly. Cherry on the cake.

Yoongi showers first to leave for his one meeting today. You'll have about two hours to yourself. Enough time for you to clean up the house, unpack your carrier, and take care of any little mundane task you overlooked this month. You both agreed on a 2000 pieces puzzle to order for when he comes back. What you don't think about is that sometimes, when you make plans, your cunt sneakily laughs. A puzzle? Not today.

[iezzern-ao3]

Something Like Love

Read on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas

Relationship: Aedion Ashryver/Dorian Havilliard

Characters: Aedion Ashryver, Dorian Havilliard

Additional Tags: Dirty Talk, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Coming of Age, smut in chapter 2, Feminization

Language: English

At the very adult age of nine, Dorian considered himself poised and clever. He was mature and proper, able to look at things with an objective view and did not let his emotions get the better of him. That was until he’d met Prince Aedion Ashryver.

(Smut doesn't start before Dorian is 17)

Chapter 1 under the cut

Dorian always told himself he was a sensible child.

At the very adult age of nine, Dorian considered himself poised and clever; far above the expertise of other nine-year-olds. He was mature and proper, able to look at things with an objective view and did not let his emotions get the better of him. That was until he’d met Prince Aedion Ashryver.

The Prince was an infuriating piece of work, teasing and taunting at every turn, as if he’d never learned proper manners. He was thirteen, the same age as Chaol, and that was even more infuriating. Mainly due to the fact that Aedion liked to lord his age over Dorian like Dorian was less proper because of his young age.

The worst part of it was the fact that Dorian never could think straight when Aedion teased him. He’d have a sarcastic reply on his tongue and then his voice would die, a furious blush replacing it. Usually, Chaol would be around to throw an insult back, but when Dorian was on his own, he usually got treated to Aedion’s smug smirk.

Even with all of Aedion’s bad points, Dorian could never stop himself from anticipating every visit he would have. There was a certain feeling he got whenever the Prince was close by, a kind of rush through his head and a burning through his body.

It was what made it impossible to answer the arrogant prick.

“You lost your tongue, Princeling?” Aedion would laugh and Dorian would blush and stutter until Chaol came to rescue him. Aedion would throw a smile over his shoulder when he left, stirring something in Dorian’s chest.

And then there’s one month until Aedion is coming to Rifthold next and Dorian has set himself a goal to actually talk to him without stuttering, He’s paced his room for hours now, practicing comebacks and lines. He’d outgrown the embarrassment of talking to himself days ago.

Then the maid had opened the door, carefully, and told him that his father was preparing to go out on a campaign. Two weeks later the news had come. Terrasen had fallen to Adarlan forces. The King and Queen were dead, along with their young daughter Aelin. Dorian felt a short flash of pain at that. Even if she’d been borderline annoying, the young princess had taken a special place in his heart.

Instead of expressing this, though, he just asks “What about Aedion?”

The maid draws her lips in a thin line, and Dorian shrinks at her disapproval. “Lost on the front lines, they say,” she answers, short and clipped. Dorian blinks, wringing his hands. “Oh,” he says, voice weak. He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so heavy. He quickly puts on a mask, knows that the maid will report to his father.

“Fetch me Chaol,” he says, “I want to go out riding”

Chaol doesn’t comment as they ride across the fields but puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder when they come back from the stables. Dorian doesn’t understand why he feels so comforted by it; why he’s so upset.

Three years pass. Dorian grows up as much as he can.

He’s twelve when he witnesses his first execution. His mother had protested it loudly enough that Father had sent her away for the last few days. Dorian tries to not make up his thoughts about it; knows that his father will act if he shows any distaste. Dorian lowers his eyes as fast as he can, tries to show respect to the woman’s sobbing husband.

“Drag the filth away,” his father’s rough voice echoes through the hall. The man is dragged away, crying out for his wife. Dorian starts to forge a plan, doesn’t want to stand on the side and watch while is father commits cruelties.

“Is there anyone else who wants to bring matters to the king?” Chaol asks, and Dorian knows he’s the only one who can hear the strain in his voice. To present the King’s matters is a huge honour, of course, but Chaol sounds more like he doesn’t even want that honour.

The Captain of Adarlan’s main army steps forward, cloak dragging on the floor behind him. Callum Selrion, Dorian remembers after a few seconds, that’s his name. He’s greying, his body lagging with age. Father will replace him soon, Dorian knows.

“The raids up North have been more successful, my King,” the old man says, “And we have a few men to thank for it, I would like for them to get the acknowledgment”

Some of the Court people laugh and titter at that. In their opinion, lowly men of the army don’t deserve acknowledgment from the King himself. Why should the King bother with men who haven’t washed in days and will live the rest of their lives surrounded by stinking tents and horse-shit?

None of them have seen even a glimpse of war.

And yet they brag about its profits.

Dorian wants to tell the Guard to shut them up. Father needs to please them, however, and can’t shoot them down. Dorian opens his mouth before Father can even think of what to say.

“Of course, Captain Selrion,” he says, and almost cringes at how thin and plain young his voice sounds compared to the men’s, “My father would love to acknowledge the brave men who fight to keep us proud and safe”

The court grows silent and ashamed at Dorian’s words. Captain Selrion smiles, tipping his head in thanks. Dorian’s father rights himself in his throne, clearing his throat. “Bring forth the soldiers then,” he says, voice hard. Dorian’s blood runs cold. Father never gives in this easily and when he does, it's with an air of amusement. There’s something he’s not seeing. Something Father is holding over him. Dorian’s actions might just backfire on him.

The Captain flicks his hand and some soldiers step forward. Dorian’s breath stops in his throat. His hand tightens in the material of the cape it’s resting on. Father is looking at him, searching for a reaction. Dorian tries to stay passive.

He’s gotten taller, and bigger; his muscles grown larger. His hair is still a glowing golden, windswept down to his shoulders, stark against his winter-sun-darkened skin. His eyes scan over Dorian and his father with such intensity, such confidence. Dorian rakes his brain. Aedion is about sixteen now.

And now, with his slightly older body and mind, Dorian suddenly understands his previous reactions to Aedion. He squirms slightly, blush dusting his cheeks. Father snorts, leaning back in his throne. Dorian shifts and averts his eyes, trying to ignore Father.

Dorian’s eyes connect with Chaol and his friend arches an eyebrow, nodding towards Aedion. Dorian blushes even harder. It’s a relief that only Chaol knows him well enough to understand what his reaction means. He’s been around Dorian enough when he’s stuttered flatterings to pretty girls.

Aedion catches his eye again. He’s knelt down, bowing his head to Father, hair tumbling over his shoulder and catching shine from the light. Dorian wants to run his fingers through it.

The Court murmurs around them and Dorian just hopes it’s not about him and his embarrassing display. Father gives his acknowledgments and the soldiers accept them, Aedion a bit more forced than the others, Dorian notes. “Son, would you be so kind and show the soldiers to their chambers?” Father asks. Payback for making him give them acknowledgments.

Dorian gives him a curt nod, masking his anger, and rises from his throne. One of the young ladies leans over and whispers something to her friends behind her hand as he passes. Captain Selrion shakes his hand as he approaches. It makes Dorian beam with pride until he hears his father’s half-concealed laughter behind him.

Dorian lowers his head, tears burning in his eyes, and quickly walks out of the hall, the soldiers rising to follow him.

Halfway out the door, Chaol catches up with him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let it affect you,” he murmurs, and Dorian takes what little comfort he can find in it. His hand, however, is knocked away by Aedion’s—as the soldier wraps his arm around Dorian’s shoulder. Chaol’s eyes immediately go cold.

“How’s life at court been treating you, Princeling?”

Aedion’s voice hits his eardrum hard and sends a ringing noise echoing through his head. Dorian jerks back, glaring. He begs the gods that Aedion hadn’t seen the tears. He never would’ve been able to live down the shame of it.

“Certainly better than those years in war camps has treated you,” he answers with a hiss. Aedion looks shocked for a small, euphoric moment and then he throws his head back and laughs. His friends follow. Dorian’s cheeks redden again.

“You’ve built quite the spine then, Princeling?” Aedion teases, arching an eyebrow at his friends and inviting them to tease. Dorian quickly shrugs him off, but his boot catches in Aedion’s cape and he, with as much grace as he can muster, stumbles backwards into Chaol’s chest.

Chaol’s hands immediately come out to steady him, but the damage is already done. Aedion and his friends are laughing and Dorian’s cheeks are flaring. Dorian turns on his heels and drags Chaol with him, steps as determined as he can get them. The bastards can find their rooms on their own.

Aedion calls out his name from behind, but Dorian can’t bring himself to turn around. Chaol’s hand slips to the small of his back, comforting. Dorian leans back into it, fisting his hands. It takes him three turns and two flights of stairs to finally calm down. His cheeks return to their normal colour and heat. The tremors stop going through his hands.

He breathes out.

And in.

And out

again.

“That,” Chaol comments, “was a disaster”

Dorian breathes a laugh but doesn’t comment on it further. He leans heavily against the wall, running a hand through his hair.

Father is going to be furious with him, but he can’t bring himself to actually care. It wasn’t only the complete and utter humiliation at embarrassing himself in front of the Terrasen prince, it was the fact that it was the Terrasen prince. Dorian knew, deep down, that his thundering heart wasn’t only due to the embarrassment, either, but he was willing to keep that knowledge to the utter bottom as long as it was required.

Chaol quirks an eyebrow but stays mercifully silent. That stare, though, is enough to make Dorian squirm. “Shut up,” he hisses, without any true malice. “Didn’t say anything,” Chaol teases, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

Dorian groans and readies himself to slide down along the wall and curl up into a ball on the floor. Chaol grabs him by the waist and pulls him up again. Dorian immediately slumps forward to rest his head on Chaol’s shoulder. Chaol stiffens for two seconds while he checks if anyone is there to see.

It’s only Dorian that is allowed to act like this towards Chaol. Anyone else gets turned away with either a snarl or mild distaste. Dorian cherishes the fact, even though he really shouldn’t.

“We can’t just leave them to their own devices,” Chaol sighs after a considerable amount of time. Dorian whines low in his throat. “I know,” Chaol answers, a hand coming up to stroke through Dorian’s windswept curls, “But you have to”

Only Chaol.

With a determined huff, Dorian shoves himself off his friend and starts a confident walk down the hallway. “Good luck,” Chaol calls out from behind him.

The gods know he’ll need it.

Read Chapter 2 HERE

[jq37]

thoughts on this week's ep?

**spoilers for broadway brawl**

***Before we start, I remembered as I was typing this one of the important notes I lost from last week’s recap: Interesting that Christmas seemingly went off without a hitch. I expected Santa to come back into play somehow (like, someone would check on him to make sure Christmas was still on or he’d call them in to help or something) but he hasn’t, at least not yet.***

My guys, my guys, my guys. Was that something or was that something?

I think I am on record as saying that combat is my least favorite part of ttrpgs generally speaking because I’m here for the RP but when a combat episode shines it really freaking shines (see eg: that first combat ep of Bloodkeep where everyone went full Galaxy Brain except for Matt who couldn’t hit a single thing) and this is such a good example. This is easily a top five ep of the season for me, maybe top three so let’s get into it and break down why it was so awesome.

We start right where we left off with Titania and members of her court having come into the theater to beat the tar out of Misty mid-show.

Quick note: At the end of last ep, it was set up so that Misty was thrust on stage right after hearing the mirror was on stage which would place this fight right at the top of Act 2 but at the start of this ep, Brennan seems to indicate that it’s taking place during what would be the closing number. Which would make more sense but imagine you go see a play, the first act is super dope, and then the second act is an insane, minute long fight that’s pretty unconnected to the plot and then a buff, naked, beautiful man tells you the show is over and you should leave. Wild. Anyway.

Pixies with tommy guns in inherently funny.

So one of the things that makes this fight really great is the way it directly ties into the story in a way besides “These bad guys are in our way.” Misty is using this show as a part of her reincarnation spell so if the show is messed up, it fails and she’s on her last life. Brennan has a cool mechanic of making her roll death saves every round at a difficulty lower than her modifier (which is s/t crazy like 11) but that gets harder with damage done to her and performance checks failed by other players who decide to jump on stage. It’s a great way to make the battle feel like it has more personal stakes and it’s my fave original Brennan mechanic since the Family in Flames Sophie’s Choice situation.

(I love that the death save counter is changed for theater comedy/tragedy masks for this. Nice touch.)

Em, Esther, and Wally are also at the fight which is clutch.

Also, Sondheim is specifically here which is an insane detail to add just because.

WILD that no one knows what’s going on with the ritual initially because, as Lou almost does, getting all the civilians out is the smart move and it would COMPLETELY ruin Misty’s plans instantly.

Lou having Kingston take the stairs bc’s he’s 50+ years old and has no time for that nonsense has equal but opposite energy to him doing extra rolls for Fabian to do unnecessary parkour before a simple attack because Fabian’s Like That.

Murph fireblasts the hell out of Titania’s foot soldiers right off the bat from outside of counterspell range which is very cool.

“Give me a performance check for the cockroach.”

“You’re upstaging me bitch?”

Another great thing about this fight is that because of it’s theatrical nature, everyone’s RPing it more than a usual battle ep (or more intensely maybe is what I mean).

Titania hypnotizes Don Confetti and his goons into fighting for her.

“She doesn’t know she’s in a play but she does sing most of her dialogue which is helpful for you.” Titania is just Like That.

Pete drops an erupting earth and drops a sick 37 damage on those same minions Kug got.

I didn’t notice before but yeah, Ally does roll die like a f-ing beyblade champion.

Emily hearing Murph’s low key, offhand comments and cracking up is great.

“Get Sondheim!” (Emily and then Ally: WHAT?!)

Actual living dude Stephen Sondheim being involved in this fight is just so ridiculous and fun and crazy.

We go around to Misty’s turn and she has to beat a 28 (upped from 10) and she fails which feels worse than a normal failed death save somehow.

Lou, in a very good RP move, tells Pete to tell Misty to end the show so she can tell them not to so the group has a valid reason to not evacuate which is a thing they (or at least him and Ricky) would obviously want to do.

Sophie, the madwoman, jumps out of the balcony, grabs a costume, then runs on stage. Emily’s glee at being told that her grabbing the costume will give her advantage is great. She’s always trying to figure out how to make the most of her moves. She is the living embodiment of the concept of method to madness (which is from Hamlet since we’re talking Shakespeare today). 

Ox is constantly dying (Brennan!) but also it’s like, why was he even there before the fight started? I’ve never seen a non-service dog in a theater.

Ricky: Is this part of it?

Oh, forgot to mention that everything that happens on stage is kinda shielded by the Umbral Arcana so everyone watching thinks it’s part of the show, which is a cool plot detail.

Ricky gets fULLY NAKED (Emily, with perfect comic timing: Now do I roll with disadvantage?) and leaps into the fray. He casts Protection from Evil and Good on her which (1) He does by Magic Mike body-rolling on her while he’s naked and considering how much shorter she is that her raises some interesting questions about positioning and (2) is the most clutch use of this spell I’ve seen in a while. It’s a spell I always wanna take as a Paladin because it makes sense character-wise, but I’ve never been able to actually use it because we’re never fighting fiends, fae, or celestial.

Brennan’s dime change change reversal of the critic’s comments on Ricky’s body rolls when Zac re-rolls his 11 makes me glad I never had to face him in a debate team setting.

Ally: What’s Esther’s deal ;)/Brennan: *Esther’s Weapon Stats*

“Your only secret you’ve ever had in your life is that you have a crush on her.”

Wally has a beautiful singing voice and a working knowledge of Midsummer's which is wild.

Lou’s periodic, “My man”’s when Ally/Pete does something cool. He’s very dialed into being Kingston.

Ricky’s aura keeps everyone near him from being charmed and Misty saves everyone else w/ a nat 20 counterspell. Few things in D&D are more satisfying than a well executed counterspell.

Titania trying to get Pete to be her consort or something when he just over the super posh Priya is very funny.

“I mean between me and Sondheim, get Sondheim!”

“DO WE HAVE HOMEWORK TONIGHT?” (“We did have homework.”)

Anyway, Misty has one success now!

Misty tries to use puppet to get Titania to drop her crown and it doesn’t work. Brennan says the crown is Crown of Stars which I looked up and it’s actually a spell, not a physical crown, but I’m assuming he used the mechanical effects of the spell on a physical item.

Brennan doing all these musical/singing bits when he absolutely doesn’t have to. I love it.

I love Ricky and Sophie being the two martial fighting heavy hitters of the group. Like, the two fighters, having the spellcasters’ backs.

I hope the one kung fu fan in the back of the theater never sees another Broadway show again because he’s gonna be so disappointed. 

“I’m just so inspired by that beautiful penis.”

Murph, out of character, verbally acknowledging how insane what they’re doing is. I love when someone pauses in a game of D&D to just recite what’s currently happening out of context so everyone can appreciate how crazy it is. D&D. Gotta love it..

Emily and Siobhan have a quick conversation in the background about whether Sondheim did Les Mis or not (not, that’s Claude-Michel Schönberg) while Brennan and Murph are Ring nonsense.

I also was mildly suspicious of Alyssa so I’m glad Kingston checked her out.

The entire roast of Brennan when he’s selecting D6s is an instantly iconic D20 moment. I can’t do it justice. You kinda just have to see it.

“Someone call Wizards of the Coast!”

Em, Wally, and Alyssa go out when Titania puts out a huge spell that blinds Kug.

“Yummy, yummy, tastes like ass.”

On Misty’s next turn, she rolls a fail which makes it 2 failures to 1 success. Brennan mentions that a nat 1 counts as 2 failures and a nat 20 counts as 2 successes. I’m sure that won’t be relevant later because you can’t foreshadow things when dice rolls are completely random.

Misty fails on puppet again again and Titania goes full Wicked Witch of the West on her and starts Jonesing for those shoessss.

Emily’s Emily(tm) move of the session is doing a flying leap at Titania, hitting her with a stunning strike and having Brennan retract the Box off Doom he was pulling out because she can’t save when she’s stunned. She just plummets out of the sky.

Don Confetti respecting the sacrament of marriage as he goes full Opera ghost and tries to garrote Sophie.

Ricky (still naked) grabs the crown from Titania, tosses it to Misty, and, with some improv and a good charisma roll, makes the show suddenly make sense to the very confused but entertained audience.

I’m so glad that Murph decided to turn into a bear and that they made the Winter’s tale ref. I should have had faith in Brennan and Siobhan, the theater nerds. Exit pursued by a bear y’all.

Lou and Emily bonding over being proud of their die for rolling well when they lend it out for a big roll.

Really wish Pete had wild magic surged in this fight. Just to add that extra bit of chaos. 

With a very good turn (no damage taken, no performances failed) Misty only has to avoid snake eyes to get through this turn. She leapfrogs over that low bar and rolls a nat 20, instantly fulfilling her win condition. At this point, the play is superfluous and Titania is still down.

“Brennan lost and now he knows reddit is gonna eat his ass.”

OK, remember how I said earlier that Misty seems like the kind of character you nudge a little temptation at just to spice things up? Yeah, her killing Titania and getting the crown of the Seelie Fae makes me a liiiitle apprehensive, but we’ll see how that turns out.

“I killed my queen! This is America we don’t have royalty here.”

“Bear, I don’t know who you are, but take me on your back, let me ride on stage.” —creator of West Side Story, Stephen Sondheim

Misty charms the critic at the show to make sure they get a good review which is such a fae thing to do.

Kingston’s clearly not loving attacking Don and Co. post “real fight” what with his whole Do No Harm thing (well, that’s Dr’s but same principle applies I assume) is a good character detail. For that matter, so is Ricky just taking Titania’s crown and not beheading her which he super could have done while she was down but it would have been very incongruous with everything else about him.

Brian “This isn’t Loony Tunes” Murphy throws Sondheim as a projectile weapon at a pixie who snaps the pixie’s neck and then does a monologue at the audience.

I love it when someone rolls low on an insight check and Brennan gives them useless info and then they repeat it in their character’s voice.

4 mins from the end of the ep, Siobhan realizes there are two Perrys in this story for the first time and has a bigger reaction to that than almost everything else in this ep except her nat 20.

Ricky looks for costume faun legs to cover his fully out dick instead of costume pants or even his own pants.

Misty starts glowing with reincarnation energy and she runs into her dressing room for privacy. Also, she still super hasn’t told anyone what’s going on. (ALSO, assuming she’s gonna make the world think she died, it’s gonna be wild for the company of the show to have their leading lady put on the performance of her life and then die on opening night).

“Who am I to refuse a crown when it’s placed so deftly upon my head?”

You know that behind the scenes thing where Brennan is like, “Yeah, I knew Siobhan was gonna steal that book,”? I got some of those vibes during the crown scene.

The implications of what Misty did are gonna be left until next ep but Brennan says something about her creating her own court and it looks like she’s recruiting followers in the promo. IDK how I feel about that (these stories tend to have great power--especially tied to powerful magical items--as a corrupting force) but I am very excited to see how it goes down! See you then!

[vaguely-concerned]

I played Death of the Outsider finally and I have some Feelings about it

and most of them not very positive. nice stuff first tho!

THINGS I LIKED:

- billie is such a good character. still new to her old self and slightly tender from coming out of the protective shell of lies that was meagan foster, full of old scars and doubts and bitterness but trying for something better, something kinder even though she still doesn’t quite understand what she’s walking towards -- the genuine care and tenderness in her voice when she talks to daud or thinks about deidre. I love her.

all that and she effortlessly IS also the queer disabled woc the gamer bros refuse to believe could possibly exist. exquisite. 

- the idea of ‘killing’ the outsider is compelling, but it’s the sort of idea that needs a full length game to support it and its implications. cool idea, completely wrong execution.

- saying that: I love that the injustice of the outsider’s creation being righted is only made possible by a long unbroken line of mercy and kindness. daud saved billie from the streets, corvo spared daud, daud saved emily and spared billie after her betrayal, billie tried to save aramis stilton and became entangled in the void, emily spared billie, billie took this job in the first place partly because she loves her dad daud and wants him to find peace. that idea is so beautiful that I wish the rest of the narrative was strong enough to hold it up lol.

there’s also something going on here with other people holding on to the important pieces of you -- that billie is ‘all that is left’ of daud after he’s dead. once he saved a child from true loneliness and gave her a purpose, made her feel seen again, gave her the closest thing she had to a home, and when he’s completely lost himself in the void... that kindness is still alive in billie, and she helps him find his way. again that is really touching and thoughtful and plays wonderfully into the chaos system in these games thematically! too bad about all the stilted dialogue and characterization messes and uh. everything else. 

- most of all I love how clear it is that billie and daud love each other. it’s a quiet love that has nothing to prove anymore, it’s survived all the blood and the ugliness and everything they’ve done to each other and to the world, a love with no demands left. it’s not the sort of love you usually see, in all its unsentimentality, but it’s real. when daud tells her he’s proud of her and trusts her no matter what she chooses to do, you feel how much he means it. (making his insistence on trying to make her choice for her all the weirder -- see my long rant of lamentation about his characterization in doto below lol)

there’s something about daud’s undramatic yet complete acceptance of and respect for billie that... I didn’t know I needed this, but it was a nice gift nonetheless haha, thank you. (it’s similar to how good it feels in D2 when you realize corvo just likes emily a lot as a person, even aside from her being his daughter. a good series for father & daughter stories)

- this carries over from D2, but I think the journal/log entries are better written and more insightful than the stuff out in the world.  

- it cannot be overstated how much the gameplay loop of these games is just... pure crack cocaine for my brain haha, very few things give me this specific kind of brain tingle. I love the sound of looting and I love the art style and ambiance and I love planning out a strategy after finding all the options and I love never being spotted or killing anyone and I love the puzzle elements they put into exploration sections and I love the feeling of how you move through the environment. it’s one of the few games where I routinely get so into it I end up with a crick in the neck because I’ve been so focused for so long and never noticed I’ve been sitting in a way that makes my entire spine hate me. I needed something to get me through the last few days and it did deliver that, at least. karnaca is pretty enough that I didn’t even mind that most of the levels were recycled from D2 either. 

- I’m not quite sure whether I understood this right but there’s a woman standing behind daud in the void -- I wonder if that is actually his mother and he’s been so close this whole time? at first I thought maybe it was jessamine but god no I hope she’s finally at peace after All That Nonsense, she shouldn’t have to hang around there anymore. there’s also a figure near him I could swear was corvo with his mask on, but he’s not dead canonically so that would make very little sense. oh well I’ll take my feels where I can get them even if I have to make them up wholesale  

- the bankheist was cool as fuuuuuck, that and the emotional impact of daud dying was sadly the height of this game for me, after that it all went mediocre real quick     

- paul nakauchi as shan yun was, as I have said before, a blast. ‘ugh I cannot continue my throat is as raw as a plucked pheasant’ fsdkfhlsadjkhfas

- daud’s funeral is genuinely touching. she gave him the entirety of her old life for a sendoff, battered and worn and dear as they both were. someone hold me 

THINGS I  H A T E D:

- the stuff they did with daud’s characterization. I am so unreasonably angry over this haha, the more I think about it the more I hate it. I think there are paths you could go with his ACTUAL character to make this work, but this was not it. I’ve said this before, but his most iconic, most defining scene is him surrendering himself to corvo’s judgement without justifying himself or deflecting the blame for any of what he’s done. this isn’t even regression in his character, it’s just.. a different character altogether. they could have gone for the angle that delilah almost managed to end the world b/c daud showed mercy and that’s the reason he’s moved to action, I think that might be a more compelling motivation for him at least. OR have him be more conflicted about how to do things -- violence is still the only tool he knows how to use but it’s not what he wants to or even can be anymore and the conflict troubles him, ‘His hands do violence, but there is a different dream in his heart’. or even use a different character for the ‘kill kill kill’ angle, he didn’t need to be here for this dlc at all.   

also, just on a purely practical level... for all his flaws and longstanding moral shortsightedness daud is not a stupid man. why the FCK would he be so sure that killing the outsider will fix anything? if I, dumbass extraordinaire, could within half a minute wonder if maybe something even worse would take the outsider’s place if you removed him... why does that never occur to the Knife of Dunwall tm, a man about Void for like half a century or whatever?? ugh fuck this, I’m having a hard time explaining exactly why it all feels weird and wrong to me, but know that it does and that I Do Not Like It lol. I feel cheated out of something important I thought I had.  

- again, this should have been a full game. (I think it is sold as one already, but it just hm isn’t) there’s way too much shit of literal cosmic importance for the game’s universe being picked up here for something this short to cover. save this HUGE idea for a rainy day should you ever want to do another game in the series and do something else with the dlc, honestly. 

- god but the outsider is insufferable in this. I don’t know what happened, but by the end I was like ‘*thoughtfully strokes chin* maybe daud has a point billie keep that knife handy’. he’s annoying and boring, which is wild to me because he was always a lot of fun in the other games.

for real tho I don’t know if this is just my atheist-but-still-angry-at-god-somehow??? talking, but daud HAS a point. people are responsible for their own actions, but the outsider didn’t have to do any of what he did either. he could have chosen to be bored through the centuries instead of seeing what people would do if you gave them such ~*morally neutral*~ abilities as y’know summoning a bunch of rats to eat other people. the game wants me to buy the ‘but really this black eyed boy is woobie tho uwu’ so badly and no I’m not buying that give me my refund I want my chaotic neutral bastard back pls. I’d probably be more inclined to want to help him like that. where’s his salt gone, arkane. if you didn’t want him to be edgy why did you make him look like that.  

- this is the lamest possible version of the outsider’s backstory lol, it feels like the pearl clutching panic about satanic cults back in the day all over. listen if it’s this easy to make a god the thrill is sort of taken out of it, if these randos did it anyone could. also how the fuck are they just normal-ish people anyway? why do they follow modern fashions? haven’t they been hanging around for thousands of years, haven’t their culture changed in any meaningful way? (I realize these aren’t the same guys as back in the day but it’s just weird) why do they speak a language billie and the player can understand? why did anyone think ‘idk some cultists no one’s ever heard of before with no thematic significance whatsoever’ was the way to go world building wise? they’ve taken all the unknowable eldritchness out of the eldritch horror and we’re all poorer for it now haha 

relatedly the last level is... just not very good. you come down from the awesome bank heist and then there’s... whatever the fuck this was.

- while I do like billie finding daud in the void and him remembering her I hate that he goes out still full of self loathing and rage when you talk him into the nonlethal option, that he can’t forgive himself or find any sliver of hope or peace. I wish there had been a few more moments for the two of them to come to peace with themselves before he gave the outsider back his name, some real catharsis. as it is I was annoyed when the outsider ‘woke up’ or whatever b/c it felt like he was stealing attention from what I was actually emotionally invested in and not done with.    

they had  n o t  built up billie’s or my sympathy for the outsider well enough either. again this is something I think they could have done if they’d structured things differently, if they’d been more deliberate in making you understand he was basically a child and letting you dwell on it. because there is a parallell there between him and billie, and billie and daud, but I, how do I put this, did not give a fuck  

in short this was really similar to my experience with D2 in that there’s enough good there that it’s all the more painful when it fails to deliver on it again and again, and it ruined things I already liked about this story from the first game (daud’s arc and everything to do with the outsider, mostly). give me some months of denial and hard core headcanon work and I’ll probably be able to live with it

[themiracleisstillwaiting]

I WAS TRYING VERY HARD NOT TO GO ALL DGM BUT! top 5 dgm characters?

YOU CAN GO ALL THE DGM YOU WANT TO GO, Its not a problem at all! ⋆Ask me my “TOP 5” anything! LETS GO!5 - Lenalee Lee- I appreciate Lenalee now so much more than I used to appreciate, before. To be completely honest, she’s still very much a stereotypical female character of a shounen manga, but I do feel like Lenalee always had more Heart than other female characters filling the same stereotypical roles, on other shounen mangas (I’m thinking of Ky.oko on KHR, Sak/ura on Tsub.asa, even Urara.ka from BNHA). Its hard to explain now, but lots of things feel like Lenalee, rather than feeling like “heres the main girl from this almost all male cast”. Now I can understand her character arc and how it was about protecting her kindness on a cruel, cruel world, instead of assuming a cold, unbothered facade. On the moments she cried, it felt natural and even brave to do so. Its crazy to think that not every exorcist is absolutely overwhelmed with their depressing missions, and seeing Lenalee letting it all out feels refreshing, and it feels very her, too. She’s sensitive and a gentle soul who’s endured a lot and knows she’s endured a lot. And even though she’s brave and strong cuz she had to become brave and strong, her kindness is still very much her priority. When she sheds tears saying “welcome home” to Allen before they enter the Ark is… Is the Soul of DGM, you know what I mean? That one moment is DGM’s very own Soul.4 - LulubellUNLIKE! YOU! I really loved the anime, it was my defining anime, when I was growing up. And I do love how they explored Lulu’s character. I think she’s super Cool, man, the kinda side character that you fall in love with and dedicate yourself thinking about just on solely the very few moments she has. I love her power and I think it was one of the best ways I saw that kind of power being nicely explored on a villain (the “Changing your appearance” type). She’s cool, elegant, seems to be analytical and intelligent, all of that while being Lust and without (at least for a long time on the manga) being sexualized. 13 year old me Loved Her and dedicated a lot of Brain Power thinking about her and shipping her with Tyki.

 3 - Allen WalkerI Love Allen’s character! (Or Allie, if you prefer!); I love their kindness, and how, ultimately, their kindness is their strength. This has been explored time and time again on so many shounen mangas but I dont think it has ever been so well done as with Allen on DGMS’s first 9 volumes. I mean, Akumas are some of the fucking worst and most Cruel Creations as enemies on a shounen, and Allen wants?? To save them?? Has always wanted. Allen always respected them and Felt for them, out of their empathy for their souls and for the Loss they represent. Those feelings take So Much, so much out of them, and you feel it! You feel it while they cry about their resolution to save them, right on Crowley’s arc, and their cursed eye evolves, on volume 4. You feel that no one is with Allen on this, and they know. They keep on persevering to save as much as they can, how much they can, even when they’re fighting lost battles. The second volume with the Doll arc, represented that very well, and you could see how unreasonable Allen’s self sacrificing ways felt. Their dialogue with Kanda “We are destroyers, not savers” - “Then I wanna be a destroyer that can save”, so heartfelt, so stupid and so humble. Allen’s self sacrificial ways inevitably makes people around them Suffer, but they cant get rid of this trait because its their Core one. Its what drives DGM as such a humane, empathetic story, how you feel for the Fallen, for the Akumas, even for the Noahs, and you’re right to feel so, cuz Allen drives the story and they try everything to save (and feel for, and respect) lost causes. Something about Allen and their amount of kindness feels so, so, ultimately tragic.2 - Lavi Bookman Jr.One drawing I have of Lavi without his bandana was one of the first drawings Ive ever felt completely proud of, when I made it on seventh grade. I feel like Lavi’s character is almost entirely done on his very own character design. He’s so beautiful and daring and Cool, ya know? Something about him is so fucking chill. When we found out later he’s a Distant person who needs to dissociate from everything around him, naturally, almost by profession, it feels like him, too. How he’s so airy and calm when literally the Worst Fucking things are happening around. How he’s capable of smiling every time, even at the face of the worst situations. Bravery? No, our boy is a fucking coward. Its just Pure Dissociation (and a little bit of self hate).

I feel like Lavi always had those depths we can almost  touch out of how well they seem to come out of his character but… We never really got to see them entirely, and well executed and we probably never will. He was Hoshino’s first protagonist on one of her first ideas, so I think thats why she could give off that feeling on Lavi’s character. She knows him and have always knew him, better than us, and this is why he feels so real, but she will, ultimately never be able to tell his story on the way she probably meant to. 

And that shit hurts, but thanks for the memories, Hoshino. which is incidentally the fall out boy song I associate with Lavi, along with carpal tunnel of love.

1 - Kanda Yu,

Hey, I love my man. 

I could be done with only this phrase, but lets try to drive this car to memory road. Yu was the first character I headcanoned as something like trans/non binary without even knowing those terms. (again, confused 13 years old.) I remember reading tidbits of something that I realize now and only now, was hentai and it depicted Yu with breasts and I remember thinking “ah, cool, this might as well be.” or something, anyway yeah, fucked up that I was trying to read that, but I feel like it drives my point home about how I feel towards him. I liked his appearance a lot the way it was and felt it was kinda unnecessary when Hoshino made a point to draw him less pretty, androgynous boy and more manlish like on his face. But of course, nostalgia might be playing a factor into this. 

Kanda is just so fucking cool, u know? The way I like him so much is almost unreasonable. I like his clothes, I liked his weapon, I liked his Innocence powers, I liked his boots (to this day I headcanon he is the kind of guy who wears only boots on a modern day AU), I loved (loved) his introductory arc, with the Singing Doll, and his phrase “we’re destroyers, not savers” was said with so much … grief. It’s not like he wants to look cool in front of Allen, that was the phrase of somebody who witnessed so much loss and destruction, he got used to it, it was a warning from Kanda to Allen. The thing is that exorcists technically are saviors, they are the good guys and the world needs them. So Kanda telling this to Allen was indicative of some major shit he’s probably been through while going through missions and trying to save people. He always felt like the kind of character that was an asshole because he needed to become one (plus just his natural lack of social skills). Ever since the beginning, I had my eye on him He was very effortlessly cool cuz he honestly didnt give a shit to anybody else, as this lonesome character; and his disagreements with Allen felt very real and in place. Their personalities and attitudes just didn’t match and it created a good symmetry of having Lenalee and Lavi as their best friends and the people they had a soft spot for. Not gonna lie, the Lavi/Yu ship is a HUGE REASON as to why those two are in my thoughts even to this day. They completed each other effortlessly, by personalities; and Lavi was the only one to call Kanda “Yu” while Kanda called him “stupid rabbit”, it was nice, ok? also they were closer in age … Loved them so much, even their seyuus used to ship them. 

Anyway, Kanda up until like … volume 17 of DGM was 9/10, one of the most important characters in my life, just so you know.

[fortunatelylori]

I think one of the reasons some people hate Sansa is that she represents real people, women mostly, during the medieval times. Even now. People won’t be so annoyed with her or call her useless if this was just a period drama. But they added the fantasy side, with dragons and assassins. Along with women that possesses these. Why couldn’t Sansa do the same? Sansa is the reason why I watched GoT in the first place. I saw myself in her. I don’t have dragons or fighting skills, I only have my mind

Hey, nonnie!

I saw myself in her. I don’t have dragons or fighting skills, I only have my mind

This right here is the reason why I love and identify with Sansa, as well. I’ve never been a fighter. Dragons don’t exist. I’ve always been feminine and proud of it. And I was encouraged from a young age to use my brain to get out of problems. Seeing a character like that on screen is interesting for me because it feels realistic and her slow burn arc makes me feel like I can actually see her developing as opposed to having been granted the fantasy equivalent of super powers over night. 

I thought it might be interesting if I actually talked a little bit about the reasons why I feel Sansa is such a divisive character within the fandom as well as one that is, frankly, overlooked by most of the GA, despite her growing importance to the plot. Because while some of the reasons can be dismissed rather easily, at least one of them is an issue of execution (particularly within the show). 

The issue of femininity, agency and use of sexuality

I’ve grouped all of these together because the root cause for them is the same: Patriarchy, which in turn encompasses such wonderful things like misogyny and victim blaming. 

Sansa’s femininity will always be used against her not only because feminine qualities are seen as lesser than masculine qualities (which is why characters like Arya and Brienne get the stamp of approval from misogynists everywhere) but also because she doesn’t “use them properly”. By that I mean that she’s a beautiful girl who does not weaponize her sexuality and, also, doesn’t put out. And within a patriarchal mind-set that’s the ultimate crime. And that’s further exacerbated by her foil Maergery, whose sexuality is her greatest asset and weapon, as well as by D*ny and her use of sexuality in order to flip the tables on Drogo. 

Sansa doesn’t do that. Instead, she goes as far as to dare to withhold her sexual favors and affections from fan favorite Tyrion which enrages the truly vile of this fandom. How dare she? Doesn’t she know that if she wants to be a feminine girl, she is obligated to give her body away to the men lusting after her? Why is she so stupid? Look how Maergery is playing the game and has Joffrey under her thumb! That Sansa, she’s soooo useless! I mean, we’ve been watching this show for 7 seasons and we have yet to see Sophie Turner’s boobs! The outrage!

This argument can go die in a ditch. I actually love that Sansa has retained autonomy over her body and has refused to use it in order to get out of problems. I’m genuinely tired of seeing “smart” or “important” female characters depicted solely as either women with masculine pursuits or “enchantresses”. I want to have a cerebral female character who uses her brain to win over or defeat her foes and Sansa Stark is developing in exactly such a character. And I love it!

She’s one of only main characters who isn’t magical

You’ve touched on this in your ask and while I agree that, in many ways, Sansa is meant to represent the reality of medieval women stuck in a system that was working against them at every turn, I do think GRRM did Sansa a disservice by eliminating all connection to magic from her arc. 

That’s because all of the remaining Starks are magical to a degree. Bran, of course, is the one with the most magical abilities in the family (and probably in the whole series). However, Jon is pretty magical as well. Not only is he a warg through his connection with Ghost, he is now resurrected as well as the blood of the dragon which makes him, in part, the product of magic. Arya, for her part, is not only a warg but also possesses magical abilities through her Faceless Men arc. 

Sansa’s connection with magic was severed irrevocably when Lady was killed and even prior to that, we never see that warg bond with her. In that sense, she’s the plain Jane of the family and thus seen as less important or special. Which coupled with her lack of fighting skills as well as her prolonged victim arc, makes her seem inconsequential and disposable. This is unfair, of course, because in every other respect, she’s a wonderfully developed character (particularly in the books) but this is a fantasy series. I think GRRM should have retained some sort of magical qualities for her. 

Tyrion, among the mains, is probably her closest analog because he’s not magical either. However, GRRM has imbued him with almost super-human intelligence (an aspect of his character that his fans blow out of proportion even further). Despite that, however, there is still a tendency to try to make him magical in some way to justify his importance, hence the theory of Tyrion as the 3rd head of the dragon. 

She feels like an outdated character

I say “feels” because she isn’t really but the “princess in the tower”/”damsel in distress” archetype that Sansa most resembles has, by and large, fallen out of favor with modern audiences. 

They used to be all the rage and writers always had such a female character. Sansa, in a sense, shares literary references with Ivanhoe’s Rebecca or Robin Hood’s Maid Marion. Personally I love those characters but the archetype has been used a lot in the past and almost never done right. It’s become a prop in a classical hero’s journey type plot, instead of a character in its own right and Sansa, on the surface, feels very much like that type of character. 

Of course, GRRM has really utilized that archetype in the best way possible and instead of making Sansa a prop, he’s exposed us to the reality of the pretty damsel stuck in a tower, to her drama and her tragedy, to her fight for survival and eventual escape. 

But people, by and large, have decided to hate the archetype instead of demanding better stories based on it and because of that, they simply bristle at its mere existence. 

The issue of Sansa’s POV in the show

This is, honestly, the reason that pains me the most and it’s really a combination of how the show has chosen to portray Sansa and well as the fact that the show is now further along than the books. 

This is one reason where I can’t really place the blame on the audience, particularly the general audience. 

For a very long time, I wondered why people weren’t really paying that much attention to Sansa in the show. And I don’t mean youtubers or people on reddit etc. I’m talking about normal people watching this show. I have a lot of friends that watch GOT and love it. They’re definitely not involved in the fandom nor are they specifically fans of one character in the show. They simply love the story and find it entertaining. 

We’ve had conversations about GOT from time to time and they’ve never mentioned Sansa once. They don’t hate her, btw. They simply don’t think about her very much or consider her important within the context of the story. 

And I believe the reason for this is because Sansa started out as a pawn in the Game of Thrones, an arc that lasted for 4 seasons. That’s a long time for a character to have limited to no agency and also enact change in the plot solely through the machinations of other characters. 

However, it’s not an issue that can’t be overcome particularly since Sansa has an ascending arc where she goes from pawn to player. The beginning of her “player” arc is marked by her descending the steps of the Eeryie dressed in her Littlefinger dress. Unfortunately, this is also the moment that marks the creators’ choice of cutting the audience out of Sansa’s POV for long stretches of time. 

Since season 5, they’ve played a hide and seek game with Sansa where we get glimmers of her POV for a short time (her marriage to Ramsay, her reunion with Jon) only to be cut out as quickly as possible in order for the writers to play up the Dark Sansa red herring. 

I believe this reluctance to make Sansa understandable and transparent to the audience is affecting the way the general audience views her. In order to get a handle on Sansa’s character from season 5 onward, you need to watch the seasons a couple of times, think about her character in depth, read some metas as well as be predisposed to like her to begin with. Honestly, that’s too much to expect from a general audience who simply don’t engage with this show as in depth as we do. 

As such the character of Sansa has become, I believe, to most of the GA a mystery wrapped up in a riddle, where questions are raised but never answered, where looks and gestures are left unexplained. The GA is not going to do heavy lifting to get to know this character so they’re simply going to ignore her and focus on the dragons instead. 

This is a huge disservice to Sansa, in my opinion. Because she’s increasingly important to the plot but I doubt season 8 is going to make the GA get to know her enough to root for her. I fear that the fate of show Sansa is to be the Ginny of Game of Thrones. People are just going to be utterly confused how this character that the creators never gave them much reason to care about ends up married to Jon Snow and becomes queen. 

And that, I have to say, makes me very sad. :(

Thanks for the ask!