#the guilt for being happy and the guilt for not wanting to be back like i missed dawnie but almighty. adolin enough i suppose atm but.

[imwetforyourmom]

GLISTENING UNDER THE STARS.

CW: Breaking up, mutually(?) wanted breaking up, sex for the last time, softdom!chris, romantic sex?, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (pleaseeee dont do this), crying during sex but we all know why 🫤, oral f!recieving, not much dirty talk, not really meant to make you horny but if it works ig it works!!

SUMMARY: You and Chris dont workout as good as you’d hoped for, and thats okay. But, just one last goodbye kiss, one for the road.

A/N: Drowning in a bath of my own tears

·˚ ༘

"Can- could we spend, y’know.. one last night together?"

His unrelenting gaze laid upon you, it held the same similarity as a cold hand had rested on your shoulder, the frigid temperature seeping through the cotton of your shirt. The palm rubbing into your shoulder, in a comforting, assuring rub, as if to remind you, ‘you’re okay.’ Even when everything wasn’t okay. Like the world had come crashing, burning down before your very own eyes, the cause your very own hands - maybe even tongue in this situation.

What were you to do in this moment? The pure look in his eyes was enough to make you sick with guilt. How were you expected to speak, when the ball in your throat began to shape into a fist? The sick with you-don't-know-what being your most prime feeling, as if it was tearing your body apart, slitting it in half and moving to wriggle inside, replacing the blood coursing through your veins with that feeling. Changing the thrum of your heartbeat against your ribs to constantly remind you of the illness you felt. Each pump a sick, cruel manner as to give that dreaded reminder above your head, that this was all entirely your fault. Everything you felt was of your doing. What did you do?

The fist in your throat began relaxing, instead now clawing its way up your throat, reaching to the base of your tongue, where a sob slipped through. Why were you crying? You’re the one who’d suggested it, told him straight to his face.

“Chris, this isnt working out.” No sympathy lingering in the undertones of your voice, not even a spared, merciful glance towards his now shattered demeanor before speaking again,

“And I know you think the same Chris. Its so painfully obvious, you’re constantly out with your friends, never at home with me. You almost never speak to me enthusiastically,” you trailed off. Your sentence finishing off with a sigh, your head tilted upwards to meet his gaze. What you saw was no less than what you’d expected, but what you hadn't looked past, was the fact Chris had redeemed himself almost everytime after one of your listed incovencies, after hanging out with his friends all day, he’d always have brought you more than one gift back, and spent the night with you for as long as you wanted (or needed).

But, because the boy was so helplessly inlove with you, he’d agreed. Wanting you the best, completely leaving his own feelings in the trail of your footsteps. He’d told you he wasn't doing well in the relationship either, that he couldn't find contentment - or whatever bullshit excuse he could think of. But, what he didn't say, was how sick he felt whenever he thought of you anytime, his body full to the brim with love, and the butterflies flapping inside his stomach. He’d be happy, as long as you were happy. Whatever it takes, he’d told himself.

You felt his eyes heavy upon you, his lips twitching in a beg to twist his words together, ask for a simple favor, or, task in your hands.

“Can- could we spend, y’know.. one last night together?” He whispered, his voice only a crack away from collapsing entirely ontop of himself. His tears only relying to stay put on the dam he’d built inside his mind, his voice keeping what it could, together.

Your heart dulled in acceptance, the sick feeling running throughout your veins falling to a stop. If it’d help him relax throughout his unspoken words, then so be it.

You nodded, making no effort to form your lips to speak, instead you only stood from the bed, now holding all of your previous guilt. Your hand traveled to his body, running it gently along his chest to the nape of his neck, where you gently wrapped your fingers to twist the waved, shorter hair. Your eyes holding significant love inside them, Chris ignored it. You didnt love him.

His hands begin their journey to the rightful place on your body, wrapping his own palms on your waist, gently. His hands holding a silent, subtle passion behind them, like hands that have longed for their lover, they’ve waited for forever to rest upon this one person. You basked in it, enjoying it for the last time you probably ever would. Whose to tell the future?

You gently pulled his face closer to yours, interlocking your lips in a quiet, loving kiss. No movement being made, or even an effort to be made, just a simple, slow, loving kiss. All you’d need for now, there was no reason to bring it any further, to rush this already treasuring moment, what better than to just, slow down and let it go as it goes?

Your lips were the first to make a move, finally kissing with more passion, it felt right. It felt as if the moment had desired this, this was the way it was meant to go. Your hand gently squeezed as your lips grew along his with more passion, his tongue sliding inside the enclosure of your mouth.

His own hands slid further down your body, his fingertips tracing across till they found the desired plush of your ass. While his other hand held a hold on your lower back, pulling you closer into his embrace, closer to him.

With a slow begin, Chris guided your body to the bed behind you, the hand on your back serving as a quiet reminder that he’d catch you if you’d fallen. Your back met with the soft plush of your comforter, your back painfully easing, causing a soft moan to slip, which only served to intensify Chris’ desire, but he showed no movement to act on it.

Sliding his hand from underneath you, his hand rested on the cotton plush beside your head, while his other went to your hip, digging the tip of his finger through the fabric just enough to feel his caress teasing as it went further, and further down. Eventually falling to a stop once it’d connected to your inner thigh, mere inches away from your heat.

A soft, palpable whine of need escaped your throat, you reached down to grab his wrist, urge him to get closer, to fulfill your desires without a word spoken, but he stopped you. Shaking his head softly as he leant up to connect your lips in a soft kiss, his hands attached to the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling them down in an act to expand the moment, let it linger longer.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties as well, bringing them along with your pants as he tugged them down, closer to fully off with each sound of your lips in the otherwise quiet atmosphere.

Eventually tugging them down your ankles, he de-attached almost immediately, the eagerness underlying his now quicker movements to move between your legs, his hands now moving to your inner thighs again, where he’d spread them wider. His eyes glued to your sex, watching as your wetness dripped to the blanket below you. His tongue licked over his teeth, his fingertips digging into the plush of your thighs.

“Y’look so pretty,” all f’me he murmured, swallowing down the words he wanted to say, all laced with possessiveness. With the guilt he felt pooling inside his stomach, he leaned forward, attaching his mouth to your clit at his own attempt at distracting himself from the overwhelming thought of you no longer being his.

A moan slid from the capture of your throat, already in a prep for bliss. God, you were gonna miss this, miss him- him and his, tongue..? That's what you wanted to tell yourself.

His grasped hands around your thighs squeezed tighter, already finding himself entranced within your heat. His tongue swirling around the bundle of nerves, sucking before sticking his tongue out to trail down to your opening, sliding his tongue into the hole, and back out, creating a rhythmic pace.

His tongue kept up with the pace, his eyes peering into yours as he watched you slowly begin to become out of it, your moans falling even smoother from your lips than before. Not a thought behind your eyes, only the way you felt. His tongue curled into what your face contorted into when he brought you pleasure, yet he’d rather have your body curled into his as he brought you the warmth he seeked. Pleasuring your body with the simple affection of a kiss to your cheek.

Your hips bucked into his face, nudging his nose to your clit in the process, spiking pleasure throughout your veins, the ache for more surging blended within. Your stomach seeped till it fell through an endless pit, either mixing with the underlying guilt, or the start of an orgasm. You weren’t sure.

His hands gripped around your thighs, kneading the flesh beneath his fingers and palms. His tongue moving in desperate acts of more, more, more and more. Perchance more of the unrequited love he wanted to be requited, but that wasn't fitting.

His tongue departed as his hand slid from your thigh, his thumb tracing tight circles on your clit as his ring and index finger slid inside your entrance, quickening his previous pace, sliding deeper against your soft walls, the pleasure ricocheting onto you.

His lips meshed with yours, your lingering taste slipping inside your mouth and dawning onto your taste buds. Yet the pleasure from your legs was bundling your head far too much to care for the luscious taste coating your mouth.

The previous knot — or, ‘endless pit’ fell snapped, a moan sliding off your tongue and whispered into Chris’ mouth, swallowing what was left of the efforted moan, yet it only bounced off the walls of only being needed of one thing.

His fingers retracted from your legs and moved to the buckle of his belt, retrieving it from its locked position, and sliding his throbbing dick from the tight enclosure of fabric. He continued the motions of pulling off his pants and boxers, his movements yearning, yet a coat of desperation blinded longing, leaving the yearning to be of what it was, yet tiny and unnoticable.

His lips never disattached from yours, even when he slid his length inside your entrance, but a striking, pleasurable pain overtook his lip once your teeth had bitten onto it at an attempt to soothe yourself, probably stabilization but all Chris could focus on was the squeeze of your walls bringing the pleasure he so badly seeked earlier. His cock almost begging with the leaking pre-cum.

With one last kiss, bathing in the warmth of your lips, he’d pulled away. His hands grabbing at your hips, groping at the flesh of your stomach, caressing the skin of your ribs as well as the skin below your boobs. His fingertips dancing along the skin left for his eyes, left for the moon to shine onto, casting an ethereal spell on your skin to reflect, let Chris deliver the satisfaction of being inevitably perfect.

His hips moved along with the rhythm of your moans, moving deeper whilst your moans grew louder and harder as your moans strained in the journey of your scratchy, used throat. Your eyes bathing in the tears of your pleasure. The sway of his hips meeting with yours urging the tears to produce, lay this last drop of mercy.

Despite the ache of how hard & deep he went, his movements were soft, cherishing in the bath of your body kneeling to his actions, taking in what it could get and giving back the pleasure he proclaimed. He wanted to soak in the soft hum of the tiny whimpers that failed to succeed from slipping your throat, he wanted to dry your tears with his lips - even if they weren’t from mental or physical pain. He wanted to be able to let the praises slide from his lips as easily as they used to, let each word bathe inside a pool of his possessiveness, reminding your conscious of just whom you’d ‘belonged’ to.

He wanted this one last given opportunity to be by your side, linger in the warmth of your being and skin to be memorable, not any other time you’d have sex, just, lacking the speech.

Your hand slithered to his bicep, squeezing hard, digging a crescent moon shape of your nails into his skin, your eyes closing as the returning feeling of an endless pit formed into your stomach. Perchance this time it wasn’t because of your orgasm. You could see the glint in Chris’ eyes, neither irises carrying a wash of lust inside them, rather, only a form of yearn and— longing. He longed and longed, for what you didn't know.

He was touching you, staring at you, embracing you, inside you for fucks sakes. What more did the man want? What more could a man ask for? Your body laid vulnerable in front of him, your flaws for his eyes, your insecurities lie for his hands to caress, yet he had done neither. Not a whisper of a praise sliding from his pretty pink lips.

Your hand slid to the nape of his neck, running your fingertips up his head, gripping at the loose curls, you pulled his face closer to yours, your lips a breath away from his.

You opened your eyes, meeting his in a long, tension full eye contact. Your face churned in pleasure when he thrusted especially hard in that moment, his cock slamming inside you, as his gaze didn't falter. A cocky smirk laid over his features, clearly enjoying the sight of you, the sounds you were making. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, his gaze unrelenting, his lips moved to form the letters he was yet to pronounce.

His previous yearn drowned in his now lust filled irises, a grunt slipping past his lips before he muttered possessively, “C’mon pretty, be a little louder for me baby. Wanna hear your moans and whimpers.” His thrusts slowed with each word his spoke, a seemingly threat.

“Fuck Chris, please don’t slow down, faster, please.” You’d begged, your knees curling into your chest as the feel of his cock drove into your insides, ridding any of the guilt that remained.

Low and behold, the mustered strength provided to your lustful needs was rooted from the tightening in his throat and burning eyes. Each thrust was a way to take his mind off of what was to come after this, each syllable said was a beg of the peace he desired for such an intimate moment. He wanted, he so badly wanted to want to fuck into you, whisper his possesive lacen words into your neck, his re occuring hands keeping your under him as you pleaded for him. Yet, he just couldn't.

Instead, your body lie before him, the window allowing the moon to assure you as the most beautiful thing he’d ever lain his eyes on, sweat dripping down the creases of your body, a mesmerized expression etched on your face, you glistening under the stars as a guiltiful apology sat on the shine coating your body from the moon. Reflected onto your body as it slightly shook with the forces of his thrusts. Each sparkle dancing on your skin a haunting taunt for the body he no longer could love and adore. Only to watch as memories and need for more relentlessly took over his mind.

2578 words.

TAGS

@luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @ssilentzom @b2cute @graysturns @wh0resstuff @sturn-bugz @sunsetsturniolos @strniolo @sturnssmuts @simply-a-simper @stunza @meerkatzthings @joemamaaa42069 @sturniluvr @cindylcuwho @wurlibydominicfike @watercolorskyy @aaliyahsturniolo1 @alyrasturnz @colorthecosmos444 @sturnobsessedwh0re @jetaimevous @nicksgirlfriend @4kv4mp @asherrisrandom

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@chrissturniolosworld @ariqolyx

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@elas3

[bucked-it-up]

i wanted to ramble about where I think Buck and Tommy will be going into season 8 and what I think could possibly happen.

With the gap between S7 and S8 looking to be a shorter time skip and there not much development in the relationship, I’m quite excited to see what milestones they have passed together and which ones we will look forward to seeing.

This quote from Oliver interests me a lot “They’re still learning and figuring things out about each other and what a relationship might or could look like.” I feel like this could mean a few things, one being they are both firefighters and this is something new for Buck to navigate and also possibly new for Tommy as well. Both of them will have to get used to seeing the other leave for long shifts that mean they may not come home completely safe and sound. That will mean navigating the emotions that come with this, learning how to let one another go knowing that they will worry but they have to trust one another and having to live with the feeling that the other could get hurt without them being able to help/ get there as quick as they wish they could.

This is also the first relationship Buck has been in with a man and that will come with many obstacles, these could arise from being something that Buck hasn’t done before. A queer relationship come with pressures and negativity that straight relationships do not. Especially being in a queer relationship for the first time while having a boss like Gerrard and being separated from Bobby, someone he goes to advice and is a major part of Buck’s support network.

Another thing I get from this quote is they are working out how to be around each other and what they want their future to be like. This could include moving in which is something I would love to see but after this quote I am curious if it will be early season 8 or further down the line as a conversation talking about living situations could definitely come under what Oliver said.

I think as well the choice to bring back Gerrard will make things interesting for Buck and Tommy. I think it will give a good look at how they work through problems together and how they come to solutions. It will also show us more about how their relationship works, how they communicate and how they support each other. I hope that their relationship is explored in this arc because personally I think it would be a missed opportunity to not show how a newly out Bi character deals with a homophobic boss and how he communicates this with his boyfriend who has gone through it before.

Furthermore in S8 I really do hope we see many happy moments from them and we get to see ‘I love yous’ and milestones from them, I also hope we get to see some adversity. Preferably from outside sources rather than coming from within the relationship, such as one of them getting injured and having to navigate what that means for them and if they can cope. I would like to see them go through something like this and come out the other side even stronger.

As I have already said I would love to see them move in together and see Tommy’s house. To me this would signal that they (and the show) plan to stay with each other for a while and I would love to see Buck choose to live with his partner not because it just kinda happened like with Abby or out of some kind of guilt like with Taylor. I want him to make the choice and it be a deliberate and loving choice that allows him to spend more time with Tommy and increases their strength within the relatiionship.

To focus a little more on Tommy, I do hope he is featured in the opening arc in some way or another. I will be happy with any scenes he gets but i would love if he got a prominent role and we got to see his skills as a firefighter. I think having a pilot as a character is a good addition to the line up and allows for interplay between firefighters on the ground and in air support and means he can be included in more scenes as it has been shown he also does groundwork.

To end this ramble I hope that we get to see them happy and healthy. I hope the show explores their relationship and how different aspects of their life affect what they do and say. I truly hope that Buck is now off the hamster wheel and we don’t have to see him get back on it. I want to see Buck grow more within his professional life and outside of what he is like in relationships.

[chrzzboo]

are ur requests open??? (if not don’t respond to this lol)

but if they r, could you do kind of an angst fic. Like maybe pedri and reader are twins (maybe a small ferran x reader???🤭) where like readers on barca F and they win Liga f and reader rly hopes for pedri to be there and when he’s not they have like a huge arguement and stuff and ferran comforts her?

Broken promises

Summary: after the reader wins her first ever Liga she couldn’t help but be over the moon. Expected to celebrate her win with her twin brother Pedri took an unexpected turn.

Note: hi hey yeah hello, I’m back from the death. I had a very busy period but everything has slowed down a bit so, here I’m with a new fic. I hope you guys enjoy it!!!

Reader x Pedri (siblings) Ferran x reader

Genre: Fluff/angst

Y/N and the rest of the Barca Feminine team celebrated on the pitch, victorious after winning the Liga F. The crowd cheered and chanted, ecstatic for the team's achievement. Y/N should have felt the same, but there was something missing – Pedri, her twin brother, was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, Y/N's happiness turned to mild irritation.

She thought, "Of all days, why isn't he here?"

Pedri had promised to be there to celebrate Y/N's victory. He even had a perfect seat, but as usual, he couldn't keep his word. He was always too occupied with his own team and career.

Pedri sat on the team bus, exhausted and frustrated as the team got ready to leave. He knew Y/N would be upset, but he couldn't help it. He tried to shake off the guilt, reasoning with himself, "I'll apologize later. She'll understand. She always does."

Y/N had no idea why she even expected Pedri to show up. He had failed her countless times before, but she always got her hopes up anyway. She looked around the celebrating team, trying to enjoy the moment. Suddenly, Ferran approached her, apparently he didn't join the rest of the team on the bus. A warm smile on his face.

"Hey, congratulations!" he said, his voice filled with genuine excitement.

Y/N forced a smile, trying to hide her disappointment. "Thanks," she replied, her voice a bit strained. Ferran noticed the hint of sadness in her eyes. "You okay?" he asked, his expression turning inquisitive.

Ferran frowned, noticing Pedri nowhere, clearly not impressed with Pedri's absence. "Seriously? Again?" he commented, shaking his head disapprovingly. "He promised he'd be here, right?"

Y/N nodded, the disappointment returning stronger. "Yes, he did. But, well, here we are," she said with a shrug, trying to play it off. She didn't want to dwell on it, especially not in front of Ferran.

Ferran could tell that Y/N was trying to hide her frustration, but he knew her well enough to see through it. "Hey, don't worry about it. I mean, you guys won, that's awesome," he said, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Yeah, you're right," Y/N agreed, a slight smile appearing on her face. She appreciated Ferran's attempt to cheer her up. He had a knack for making her feel better, even in the midst of her disappointment. "You were amazing out there by the way," Ferran added, giving her a friendly nudge. His compliment caught her off guard, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Oh, thanks, I... uh, I just did my best," Y/N stuttered, a bit taken aback by his compliment. She wasn't used to being praised, especially not by a player from the main team.

Ferran chuckled at her reaction, clearly enjoying her blush. "Don't be modest," he teased. "You led your team to victory. That's nothing to brush off."

Y/N's heartbeat quickened as she looked at Ferran. He always had this effect on her, making her heart race and her stomach flutter. She tried to downplay it, but she couldn't deny the undeniable attraction she felt towards him.

As they continued talking, Y/N found herself feeling more at ease. Ferran's easygoing nature and kind words made her forget, albeit temporarily, about Pedri's absence. However, the thought of her twin brother still nagged at the back of her mind.

Just then, the team bus started pulling away from the stadium. Y/N noticed the vehicle as it rolled past them, her disappointment returning with a sharp pang. Pedri was there.

"Looks like he's on his way," she muttered sarcastically, but loud enough for Ferran to hear.

"Huh," Ferran said, glancing at the moving bus. He then turned back to Y/N, the concern obvious in his eyes. "Are you gonna confront him?" he asked, his voice gentle yet worried.

Y/N sighed, a mixture of frustration and fatigue taking over. "Honestly, I don't know," she admitted. "I want to talk to him, but I'm tired of all the arguing. We've been through this countless times before. I just... I don't know if it's worth it."

Ferran placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. "You know," he began, "Pedri can be a bit... self-absorbed at times. He gets so wrapped up in his own world that he forgets about the people around him."

Y/N nodded in agreement, appreciating Ferran's understanding. "Yeah, I know," she replied, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "It just feels like he doesn't care. He keeps breaking his promises, and I... I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Ferran's expression softened as he saw the hurt in Y/N's eyes. "I get it," he said softly. "But maybe you should talk to him. You two are siblings, after all. You don't want this to create a rift between you guys, right?"

Y/N let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the wall behind her. "I know I should," she admitted, her voice tinged with resignation. "But it's just so exhausting. Every time I bring it up, it turns into a full-blown argument. I'm tired of constantly reminding him about his promises, you know?"

Ferran nodded, understanding her frustration but still urging her to address the issue. "I get it, but sometimes, uncomfortable conversations are necessary," he advised. "If you don't talk to him, this resentment will build and eventually boil over. It's not healthy for either of you."

Y/N knew Ferran was right, but she didn't want to face the confrontation. She knew it would end in a fight, and she just didn't have the energy for it right now. "You're right," she acquiesced with a sigh. "But I can't deal with this tonight. I'm mentally exhausted and emotionally drained. I need some time to cool down first."

Ferran smiled sympathetically, recognizing her need for space. "That's fair," he said reassuringly. "You don't have to confront him right now. Give yourself some time to rest and gather your thoughts. But don't let this fester, okay? Promise me you'll talk to him soon."

Y/N nodded, appreciation for Ferran's understanding evident in her eyes. "I will," she assured him. "I promise I'll talk to him. Just... not tonight. I need some time to calm down first."

Ferran smiled, satisfied with her promise. He knew Y/N was stubborn, but he also knew she would keep her word. "Good," he replied with a nod. "You don't want this to become a long-term problem. The sooner you and Pedri talk about this, the better."

Y/N managed a small smile, touched by his concern. "Thanks, Ferran," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I appreciate you listening and giving me some perspective. It's nice to have someone to talk to."

Ferran shrugged nonchalantly, his usual easy smile on his face. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" he replied, the casualness of his tone only somewhat hiding the warmth in his gaze.

Y/N couldn't help but feel a flutter in her chest at his words. The way he looked at her, with such a gentle, caring expression, stirred something in her that she'd been trying to ignore for a long time.

"Yeah, friends," she muttered, her voice a bit shaky. She quickly looked down, hoping that Ferran didn't notice her momentary weakness.

But Ferran did notice. He saw the way her eyes darted down, the way her cheeks reddened ever so slightly. He knew Y/N better than she realized, and he could tell that his words had an effect on her, despite her attempts to hide it.

However, he chose not to point it out, instead maintaining his casual demeanor. "You know, you did great out there today," he said, changing the subject. "You were like a lioness on that field."

Y/N's heart still pounded from his previous statement, but she managed to regain her composure. "Oh, thanks," she replied, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "It was a team effort, you know. We wouldn't have won without everyone's hard work."

"True, but you were the MVP," Ferran teased, nudging her playfully. "You scored the winning goal, after all."

Y/N blushed at his compliment, still not used to such attention. "I was just in the right place at the right time," she insisted, trying to downplay her achievement.

Ferran chuckled at her modesty, finding it endearing. "Oh, come on. Don't be so humble. You had that goal in you. The way you positioned yourself, timed your shot... it was all skill."

He shifted slightly closer to her, his gaze fixed intently on her.

Y/N felt her heart race faster as he moved closer. The way he looked at her, with that intense gaze and warm smile, made her stomach flutter. She tried to ignore the effect he had on her, but it was getting increasingly harder to do so. "I... I guess I got lucky," she muttered, her voice betraying her nervousness.

Ferran shook his head, his smile becoming more wolfish. "No, it wasn't luck," he insisted, his voice lowering just a tad. "It was talent. You have a real gift, you know that?"

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart now jumping in her throat. His words, his proximity, the way he was looking at her... It was all too much. "You're just saying that," she muttered, unable to meet his gaze.

Ferran chuckled softly, amused by her reaction. He inched even closer, his breath now warm on her cheek as he spoke. "No, I'm not just saying that," he murmured, his voice a low timbre that sent shivers down her spine. "You underestimate yourself."

Y/N's breath hitched in her throat as he closed the remaining distance between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and she found it hard to form a coherent thought. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Ferran's smile widened at her flustered state. He found great pleasure in seeing her usual composed demeanor crumble because of him. He leaned in even closer, his words but a breath against her ear. "You don't have to say anything," he whispered back. "Just take the compliment."

Y/N shivered at the feel of his breath on her skin. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, her pulse racing. She couldn't recall ever feeling this way because of someone's presence. It was overwhelming yet thrilling at the same time.

"Ferran," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I..."

Ferran pulled back just enough to look at her, his gaze now holding a mixture of heat and curiosity. "Yeah?" he prompted, his voice laced with a subtle hint of challenge. He wanted to hear what she was struggling to say, even though he had a feeling he already knew.

Y/N swallowed hard, gathering her courage. She looked into Ferran's eyes, her own filled with a mixture of confusion and... something else. Something she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge. "I... I don't know," she repeated, the words getting tangled in her throat. "I can't think straight when you're so close."

Ferran's smile grew. He knew he was affecting her, and it made his heart race. "Maybe that's the point," he teased, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. He took another half-step closer, reducing the space between them to mere inches.

Y/N's breath was coming in short gasps now, her chest rising and falling with each labored inhale. She could feel the heat radiating off of Ferran, the air between them charged with an electric tension. "You're such a tease," she managed to say, her voice hoarse.

"And you love it," Ferran shot back, his tone filled with a mix of confidence and playfulness. He reached out his hand, gently tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. His touch sent tingles down her spine, and she unconsciously leaned into his touch.

Y/N closed her eyes, a small sigh escaping her lips at his touch. The way he could stir her emotions with just a simple gesture was dizzying. She knew she should step back, maintain some distance, but her body refused to cooperate. Instead, she found herself drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. The thought of confronting Pedri long forgotten.

"You're not the only one affected, you know," Ferran murmured, his voice lowered to a husky whisper. His fingers traced a light path along her jawline, trailing down to the base of her neck. "You're driving me crazy right now."

Y/N's eyes shot open, her breath catching in her chest. His words, coupled with his soft touch, felt like molten fire running through her veins. She was struggling to keep a hold on her sanity, her control slipping further and further. "You're not playing fair," she breathed, her voice betraying her growing desire.

"When have I ever played fair?" Ferran asked, a sly grin on his lips. His fingers continued their feather-light caress, moving now to her collarbone. He knew he was pushing her boundaries, testing her limits, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted her, and he was enjoying every shiver, every hitched breath he pulled from her.

In a swift, almost desperate move, Y/N closed the remaining distance between them, her body pressing tightly against his. Her hands found their way to his chest, gripping his shirt as if anchoring herself to reality. Ferran responded in kind, his arms encircling her waist, pulling her closer, tighter.

Their lips met, and it was like a shock to the system. The kiss was fierce and hungry, a clash of lips, teeth, and tongue. Y/N surrendered to the sensation, her inhibitions slipping away like waves on shore. Her heart pounded in her chest, the blood rushing in her ears, drowning out all other sounds but the thumping of their hearts beating in tandem.

Ferran matched her fervor, his hands roaming over her body, exploring the curves and lines that had haunted his dreams. He nipped at her bottom lip, wanting more, craving more. Y/N responded by burying her fingers in his hair, her nails scratching at his scalp, drawing a guttural moan from him.

They were a tangle of limbs and desire, each touch fanning the flames of their growing ardor. Ferran's mouth left a trail of kisses down her neck, each one more heated than the last. Y/N arched into him, her body seeking the closest contact, the most intense sensations.

The world beyond them faded, time becoming a hazy concept. The only thing that mattered was the feel of each other, the taste of their lips intertwined. Their bodies moved together in a rhythm fueled by desire, each touch and sigh stoking the fire between them.

But eventually, the need for air became overwhelming. Reluctantly, they pulled apart, panting and breathless. Ferran's forehead rested against Y/N's, his eyes locking onto hers, a mixture of awe and desire in his gaze.

"You're going to be the death of me," Ferran murmured, his voice thick with residual passion. His hands were still holding her hips, keeping her flush against him. Y/N could only respond with a breathless laugh, her heart racing and her body still humming with unfulfilled desire.

Ferran's smirk softened into a genuine smile as he gazed into Y/N's eyes. He knew he had to say something, to express the tumultuous feelings bubbling within him. Taking a deep breath, he slowly spoke.

"I... I need to tell you something," he began, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. Y/N's heart skipped a beat, sensing the weight behind his words. She simply gave him a nod, encouraging him to continue.

Ferran took a moment to collect his thoughts. It was now or never. "For a while now, I've been struggling with something. A... a feeling, I guess you could say." He paused, his eyes searching hers, gauging her reaction.

Y/N's heart thudded in her chest, hanging onto every word he said. She could tell whatever he was about to say was important, momentous even.

Ferran went on, his words tumbling out now in a rush of honesty. "I've tried to ignore it, to push it down, but I can't do it anymore. I... I have feelings for you, Y/N. Deep, intense feelings. More than just friendship."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she simply stared at him, the words echoing in her mind. Did she hear him right? Had he just admitted to having feelings for her, just like she harbored for him?

Ferran watched her, his expression a mix of hope and anxiety. He waited for her response, his heart in his throat.

Y/N, still trying to process his confession, found her voice. "You... you have feelings for me?" she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ferran nodded, his eyes filled with an earnestness that made her heart flutter. "Yes," he replied simply. "I've tried to ignore it, to convince myself it was just a temporary thing, but... it's not. My feelings for you have only grown stronger. I... I've fallen for you, Y/N."

She could see how nervous he was, she never expected the Ferran to be this nervous especially since she was used to see him dominate the pitch. “I have put my feeling off for too many times Ferran, and I’m glad to share the same feelings as you.” She ended the confession with a confident smile.

“So now I have the right to call you mi novia huh.” He says with a smirk. “You have every right Mi tiburón.” She smiles at him.

She laughs at him. "Okay enough with the cheesy cringe confessions." They both laugh finally having found each other.

It was safe to say that the day ended in a perfect way, way better than both of them could’ve imagined.

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

The next day:

The morning after Ferran's confession, Y/N found herself at home, still reeling from the previous night's events. Her mind was spinning with a whirlwind of emotions, replaying Ferran's words over and over in her head. But as much as she wanted to lose herself in the memories of his touch and his confession, Y/N knew she needed to face another problem. Her twin brother, Pedri, and his tendency to break promises.

As a result, Y/N's mood was on edge. She tried to hide it, but her annoyance was evident as she saw Pedri lounging on the couch.

"Hey," Pedri greeted her with his usual carefree tone, not noticing the storm brewing in her eyes.

Y/N didn't respond immediately, her jaw clenching. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress the irritation rising within her.

Seeing her silence, Pedri sat up a bit, a puzzled expression on his face. "Something wrong?" he asked, finally noticing her tense demeanor.

Y/N took another deep breath, silently counting to ten to maintain her composure. When she spoke, her voice was calm, but there was a coolness to it. "We need to talk," she said, fixing Pedri with a stern gaze.

Pedri's eyebrows raised in surprise. He could sense the seriousness in her tone. "Okay," he replied cautiously, his easy-going smile fading slightly. "What did I do this time?"

Y/N clenched her fists, reminding herself to stay calm. "You know exactly what," she replied, her voice now holding a hint of sharpness. "It's about the promises you keep breaking. You know how much it bothers me, yet you continue to do it."

Pedri winced at her words. He knew he had a habit of making promises he couldn't keep, but he didn't like being reminded of it, especially in this manner.

"Hey, come on," he started, trying to downplay it. "It's not like I do it on purpose. Things just... happen, you know?"

Y/N's eyes flashed, her irritation growing. "No, that's just an excuse," she shot back, her voice rising slightly. "You promise things, and then you don't follow through. It's disrespectful and infuriating. I know you’re upset about not winning your title but that doesn’t give you the right to ignore my succes.”

Pedri ran a hand through his hair, visibly uncomfortable now. He knew she was right, but he didn't want to admit it. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't mean to make you upset."

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes never leaving his. "But you do upset me, every time you break your word. And it's not just about me. It's about respect, trust, and keeping your commitments."

Pedri's own annoyance flared up at her words, his defenses rising. "Fine, I get it, I mess up sometimes! But what about you, huh? You're always so perfect, so damn put together. Can't make a mistake, can you?"

Y/N stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "This isn't about me, Pedri. It's about you and your lack of responsibility."

Pedri huffed, his anger growing. "Oh, of course. Because everything is always my fault, right? You never do anything wrong."

Y/N's own patience was wearing thin, the calm veneer slipping away. "This isn't about whose fault it is, Pedri," she retorted. "It's about fixing the issue. And you can't just brush it off with sarcasm and deflection."

Pedri, now fully on the defensive, let his anger get the better of him. "Oh, so now you're playing the saint, huh? Always so righteous, so damn judgmental."

Y/N's temper flared as well. "And you're acting like a child, avoiding responsibility at all costs!"

Pedri clenched his jaw, his voice raising. "And what about you? Always so cold, so damn unapproachable. Can't you lighten up a bit?"

Y/N was on the verge of losing her composure completely. "This isn't about being fun or easygoing, Pedri. It's about being reliable and trustworthy!"

Pedri huffed, his frustration boiling over. "Oh, and I suppose you're the epitome of reliability, aren't you? Never make a mistake in your perfect little world."

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger, her own temper pushed to the brink. "No, I'm not perfect, but at least I don't make promises I can't keep! All you do is give me broken promises"

Frustrated and hurt by the argument with Pedri, Y/N stormed out of the house, tears pricking her eyes. She needed to get away, to clear her head and find some comfort. Only one person came to mind: Ferran.

With a resolute stride, she walked towards Ferran's house, her heart racing with a mix of hurt and anticipation.

As soon as Y/N slammed the door shut, Pedri knew he fucked it up but he was too stubborn to apologise and admit that he’s in the wrong.

As Y/N approached Ferran's house, she took a few deep breaths to compose herself, wiping away the stray tears with the back of her hand. She could see the familiar house in the distance, and her heart ached with a strange mixture of comfort and worry. What if he wasn't home? What if he was busy? Doubt and worry churned in her stomach, but she was too raw and emotionally exhausted to turn back now.

Gathering her courage, Y/N walked up to the door and knocked lightly. She waited anxiously, the sound of her pounding heart echoing in her ears. A moment later, the door opened, revealing Ferran, surprise etched on his face.

"Y/N?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. "Is everything okay?"

Y/N's breath hitched at seeing him, his concerned expression only making her emotions come to the surface even more. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat, and a small sob escaped her instead.

Ferran's eyes widened, and he immediately pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "Hey, hey, it's alright," he murmured, his voice soothing. His strong arms wrapped around her, providing a comforting embrace.

Y/N buried her face in his chest, her tears now flowing freely. She clung to him, the weight of her argument with Pedri and the turmoil of her emotions overwhelming her. Ferran held her close, murmuring reassurances and rubbing comforting circles on her back.

With her face still buried in his chest, Y/N recounted the argument with Pedri, her voice tremulous. She spoke of the broken promises, the frustration, and the hurt that had led her to his doorstep. Ferran listened silently, his arms tight around her, providing a silent anchor.

After she finished speaking, Y/N pulled back a little, looking up at Ferran with tear-streaked cheeks. Her voice was small when she spoke. "I'm sorry to just show up like this... I didn't know where else to go."

Ferran's expression softened further, his eyes filled with understanding. "You don't have to apologize," he said gently, wiping a tear off her cheek with his thumb. "I'm glad you came to me. You don't have to face things alone, you know that, right?"

Y/N nodded, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. Ferran's words, his caring demeanor, were what she needed. She leaned into him again, needing that physical reassurance.

"I just feel so tired and frustrated," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.

"I know," Ferran replied, his voice low and comforting. He lifted a hand, gently running his fingers through her hair. "But it's going to be alright. You'll figure it out."

Y/N looked up at him then, her eyes vulnerable. "How can you be so sure?" she asked, a hint of despair in her voice.

Ferran smiled down at her, his gaze unwavering. "Because I know you," he said simply. "You're strong, amor, stronger than you give yourself credit for. And whatever obstacles you face, you'll find a way to overcome them. You always do."

Y/N's lower lip trembled slightly at his words. She knew Ferran believed in her, and his faith was both humbling and bolstering. She clung to his words, letting them soothe her frayed nerves.

"But what do I do about Pedri?" she asked, her voice small.

Ferran thought for a moment, his hand still gently stroking her hair. "You can talk to him again when you both have cooled down," he suggested. "Try to explain how his broken promises affect you. But also, listen to his perspective. Communication is key in resolving conflicts."

Y/N nodded again, appreciating his advice. It made sense to talk to Pedri when they were both calmer. But the thought of another argument filled her with trepidation.

"What if he doesn't listen?" she asked, her voice betraying her anxiety.

Ferran's expression was one of gentle reassurance. "Then you've done everything you can," he said firmly. "You've tried to reach out, express how you feel, and that's all you can do. At the end of the day, it's up to him to listen and make an effort."

He paused, then added, "But remember, you're not alone. You have me, and I'm here for you, no matter what."

Eventually after a few hours at Ferran’s , Y/N decided to head back home. Ferran dropped her off and she went straight to bed, not caring about anything or anyone else.

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

The next day

The following day, Y/N woke up feeling a bit more composed after her tumultuous day. The argument with Pedri still weighed on her mind, but she had Ferran's reassurance and support to bolster her.

Pedri, too, was feeling the aftereffects of their argument. With a night's sleep, he had cooled down and realized the depth of his mistakes. In the morning, he couldn't bear the guilt and tension that hung over the house.

As Y/N sat at the kitchen table, quietly sipping her morning coffee, Pedri approached her, looking uncharacteristically contrite.

"Y/N," he began, his voice unusually quiet. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Y/N looked up, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. Seeing his demeanor, her defenses softened a bit, and she nodded. "Sure," she replied, gesturing to the chair opposite her.

Pedri sat down, a deep sigh escaping him. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. "I... I wanted to apologize. For yesterday."

Y/N remained silent, her eyes fixed on him, assessing his words. But she allowed him to continue.

Pedri continued, his eyes downcast. "I know I should have been there for you, but I was..." He took a deep breath, his voice quiet. "I was having a rough day too. I lost an important title, and I let my own disappointment and frustration get the better of me."

He glanced up at her, regret evident in his eyes. "It's no excuse, I know. But it's the truth."

Y/N listened, her expression softening further as he explained. She understood the disappointment of losing a match, the pressure and the expectations that went with it. It didn't excuse his broken promise, but it certainly shed new light on the situation.

She took a moment to process his words, then responded softly, "I appreciate your apology. And I understand that you were upset about the match."

"But," she added firmly, "That doesn't erase the fact that you broke your promise. I needed you, and you weren't there. My feelings were hurt, and your own disappointment doesn't negate that."

Pedri nodded, his head bowed in agreement. "I know. I messed up, and I let you down. I should have been there, no matter what."

He looked up at her, the remorse clear on his face. "But I want to make it up to you. If you'll allow me."

Y/N studied him for a moment. The genuine remorse in his eyes tugged at her, making forgiving him a lot easier.

"I'll allow it," she replied quietly. "But understand, this is a chance. One more broken promise, and I won't be as receptive."

Pedri's shoulders loosened with relief, a small smile on his face. He hadn't expected forgiveness to come this easily, but he was grateful for it.

"I understand," he reassured her. "I won't let you down again, I promise. I'll be there for you, no matter what hermana."

After their conversation, Pedri gathered his courage and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around his twin in a tight hug. He held her close, his voice a soft murmur.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said again, his voice gruff with emotion. "I'm sorry for breaking my promise, and I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me."

Y/N, feeling the weight of his words and the sincerity in his embrace, hugged him back, a mixture of relief and affection welling up in her.

"I forgive you," she murmured against his shoulder, the words holding not just forgiveness but also a note of understanding. "Just... don't do it again."

Pedri nodded, pulling back from the hug but still holding her by the shoulders, a small but genuine smile on his face. "I won't. I swear."

There was still much to talk about, many things to work through between them, but in this moment, they had taken the first step towards repairing their bond.

As they pulled away from the hug, Pedri couldn't contain his curiosity. He had a sly smile on his face as he looked at his sister.

"So," he began, clearly angling for some information, "What's up with you and Ferran?"

Y/N, catching on to his playful tone, rolled her eyes but couldn't help a small smile from forming.

"None of your business," she replied, but there was a hint of a blush on her cheeks that betrayed her words.

Pedri, encouraged by her reaction, continued to tease her. "Oh, come onnnn. You're not denying it, which means I'm right!" Y/N blushes slightly not really knowing how to answer her twin. “You’re not mad are you?”

Pedri's teasing smile softened into a more genuine one. "Nah, I'm not mad," he reassured her, although there was a hint of a teasing lilt to his voice. "Although, I do feel somewhat betrayed by my best friend for not telling me about this development between him and my sister."

He wagged a finger mock-scoldingly. "Next time, don't keep me in the dark, alright?"

Y/N laughed, feeling a little more relaxed now that they were back on their usual banter terms. "Oh, so now you're jealous that you weren't the first to know?"

Pedri feigned indignation, putting a hand over his heart. "Jealous? Me? I am deeply offended by that accusation!"

Y/N chuckled again, shaking her head. "Sure, sure. Just admit it, you're dying to know the details."

Pedri leaned against the kitchen counter, wearing an exaggeratedly dramatic expression. "Well, since you asked so nicely... yes, I am dying to know. Spill it!"

Y/N regales Pedri with the story of how she and Ferran got together, from the initial friendship to the blossoming romance. Pedri listens intently, interjecting with the occasional teasing comment or cheeky question.

As she finishes, Pedri grins widely. "Well, looks like love is in the air."

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there's a smile on her face. "Shut up."

Pedri laughs, then pulls her into a one-armed hug, his tone serious now. "I'm happy for you, you know. You deserve to be happy."

Y/N hugged him back, the love and gratitude she felt for her brother evident in her smile. "Thanks, Pedri. I appreciate that."

Pedri tousled her hair affectionately. "Anytime. Just remember, if that Ferran breaks your heart, I'll kick his ass."

Y/N laughed, pushing him jokingly. "Noted."

The end.

[breached-containment-script]

So the scarring discourse is still going.

No, characters keeping scars does not automatically equate to that being torture porn. In this context, fans clearly intend it in a way that says "even if you end up with physical marks, it doesn't diminish you". Or is Aang getting scarred torture porn too? Or do you think things like Mortal Engines movie shrinking the female lead's facial damage to a minimum "spared her of physical trauma"? No, it was afraid of depicting something deemed "ugly" and it's a huge disservice to real people who look like she was described in the book.

The topic was not handled super well in ATLA. Katara's wounds got healed leaving no trace on her, on her psyche nor on how she views Aang which is not just unrealistic, but you can literally feel in the show Katara having to go "no Aang it's ok, I'm fine, you don't have to beat yourself up over it, I'm healed, let it go Aang, it's not your fault," it is too much. It would have been much stronger had the burns left some mark, even a tiny one, because then Aang's reluctance to practice firebending would have made more sense and all characters would have gotten a more solid demonstration that the Avatar can be dangerous too. It would have been a wakeup call to Katara that Aang isn't a completely harmless kid she can always shield and protect. That's character development! This would have been a more powerful moment in the progression of their relationship, especially after they sort it out and Aang learns safe firebending later on, because they'd have a more real problem to overcome rather than just Aang's guilt.

Again, show didn't frame things too cleverly - there's no heightened moment of perhaps Katara being extremely happy that she discovered a part of her lost Southern waterbending heritage (just remember her behaviour with Hama, there's none of that here). The show just removes her wounds, she's confused about the ability, and this leads to Jeong Jeong making a point about how fire is wild and destructive. The whole segment ends with removing the source of the problem (wounds) and is about how evil fire is. Aang ends up being traumatized anyway, he isn't less traumatized because Katara's wounds didn't scar.

The point is - Katara gets nothing character-building out of this event, even though it made her cry and cradle her arms for several minutes on screen. Because of this her burns could be considered torture-porn (slightly). Her discovering healing abilities is not a reward she got exclusively because she suffered the burns, she could have discovered it by accidentally hurting herself, or healing someone else. Imagine if Aang hurt himself by being reckless and Katara discovering she could heal him? What she should have gotten out of specifically being burned by Aang, is a changed view of him. I don't mean her viewing him negatively, but taking a step back and both learning they should be more careful. Who said zutara stans want Katara getting scarred by Aang in order to make Aang a villain in this? He literally cannot be a villain here, he made a big mistake by being careless. It's got nothing to do with zutara. It's not helpful to misinterpret some storytelling tools that have nothing to do with shipping, just to prevent them from creating some later story hooks which could potentially be used in shipping a NOTP. Heck, Katara getting scarred could even be used (with skilled writing) in shipping her with Aang - like zutara fans use Katara being angry at Zuko and expecting him to demonstrate that he wouldn't betray or hurt them again.

And if you have a distaste for two happy friendly characters hurting each other on accident, that's fine, but well I have a scar on my arm from my brother's scratch that happened on accident. These things happen and stories shouldn't be scared of portraying it, especially if later on they show how to make ammends and overcome the problem. I'm not saying "Katara should definitely have kept her scars!!!" I am showing narrative weak points and suggestions how things could have been done differently, what benefits it could have had character-wise and what that might have changed.

[adhd-fandom-hyperfocus]

✧₊⁺ Of Fatherhood And Dreams Not Spoken ✧₊⁺

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x OC (Astraea)/ Khan is in this. It's mostly him and Roboute talking.

Author's Note: Because I'm terrible at writing a story proper. I rather just write drabbles from the overall plot I have in mind. That being said this overall plot I have named "Wisdom in the Stars". And here are some key things to note for this overarching story:

This is all very self-indulgent and I will not apologize. If the Grimdark can be extra, so can I!

Bobby G's love interest is a xenos of my making, so they are as long-lived as him, but not a perpetual.

Again mad self-indulgent. Oozing copium by the ton

Rowboat Guillotine deserves a happy life and some damn peace

So many Primarchs are going to be back in some drabbles. Again no fucks given

Proofread? Never heard of her

I like saying Roboute's name wrong as a means of affection.

Warnings: Slight nsfw at the end. Talks of pregnancy, children, and kinks of the breeding variety.

18+ ONLY

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

There were oh so many things he's done that made those words that thundered in his head in a cacophonic choir ring true. Tool. Betrayer. Theif. Why did he focus on those? Perhaps deep down he knew them to be true.

He wanted to be a good son, and he was to his parents. But to his creator? The one that called him his last hope? Even now with all that was accomplished, he wasn't so sure. An effective tool? That he was.

Oh, how that was the crux of this all now. Because something was breaking. Had been for so long. The strict need to follow His every word, every teaching to the letter had long started to crumble. To this point, he could justify it. Excuse himself. But this?

Vibrant blue eyes that had started to have a light behind them, a sign of the better times he was in, gazed down at the dataslate. The message he was reading was still open, not that he needed to read it again. The words burned into his mind. Screamed of his selfishness and brought the crippling fear he might fall like the one before him that wanted such heretical things for himself.

The wrestling of what parts of him were human had never been so hard. Basic human needs were beyond him. At least he believed that. But since his revival and she walked into his life...Why hadn't the Emperor made them machines?

His gaze moved again, this time back to the garden in which he sat, relaxing of sorts. Something he was learning to do. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not yet. She was playing with some children of her maidens. The laughter of the little ones made him impossibly light and much larger than he was.

Those sounds filled him with feelings new, but also familiar. He sounded like that when his mother played with him, and cared for him. Yes, he was a child once, despite how quick his mind grew. His mother never let that stop him from being a child in some capacity.

Yet those laughs terrified him and cast a deep shadow of guilt and shame. Not for him, never for him. A Primarch has no need for biological children, any children. He had his Astartes sons. The best of the best are forged through painful surgeries and grueling tests. Mass-produced versions of the tool they were templated from. He was a god of war, a weapon, and weapons do not need things their masters need.

Roboute scowled. When the stirrings rose up, hot and drowning him out.

"You should do it."

Roboute had been so lost in his mind he hadn't noticed Jaghatai had taken a seat next to him.

"Excuse me?" Guilliman asked. His composure not once gave a hint of how chaotic his mind was at the moment.

At first, it was as if Khan wasn't going to answer him, "Horus, would slip from time to time, about how his children would rule the stars after the crusade was done. Even when Malcador with cold words would remind him, that the only reproducing we would have were our gene-sons," Khan sighed, "You are not going to turn into the next Horus because you long for family not us, or your gene-sons. Do the procedure."

Before Roboute could ask how he knew that was on his mind, or even what he was told Jaghatai continued, "You've been watching Astraea and those kids with so much intent like you were trying to manifest something. That and you happen to want to go to the planet in their empire that is known for its advanced DNA work medical procedures on many races? Namely in the areas of conception? Please. Most of our brothers might be blind, but I and Corvus know better. You're the one who took your gene-seed sample, yes?"

Guilliman nodded, "I assume Corax is the one who found that out?"

Khan nodded, "And Cawl, they handled it. So do it. You out of all of us, always thought of a galaxy at peace, or the closest to it. You never lived for the hunt, the fight, but the peace. You fought for peace over thrill and power. So take this. You are not Horus. You are not weaker. I think we are all starting to wake up in a sense. It is...uncomfortable. But perhaps, we are more than the sum of our creation?"

"I hope so." was all Roboute could say.

༺═──────────────═༻

This, out of everything was what he loved now that the galaxy wasn't on the verge of ending. Laying in bed with Astraea while a fire burns gently. Her soft hums lull him into comfort and bliss. Large fingers drew little circles over her belly, as his mind offered him images of her heavy with their children. How, as much as he hated the word, divine she would look. Oh, how he would worship her. A goddess in her own right. a living one who brought life into the world. Life she deemed him worthy of creating with her.

His mind continued with the future it was offering. How she would waddle about and rely on him to help her stand, or lean against when walking took everything. Her trying to ride him when is looks so ready to pop. How he would fuck her like he could put another one in her before the first child is born. Her already beautifully full breasts, engorged and heavy with milk.

Roboute blushed when he felt himself pushing against her. He craved it so bad, despite how much it scared him.

"Roboute?" Astraea hummed looking over her shoulder with an impish grin, "And here I thought you were tired."

She kissed his chin, as she turned to face him, hands roaming over his strong broad chest, before gliding down to his erection.

He could smell it, she was already aroused. Oh, how she melted for him so easily. But he was the same for her. There were some days he had to force himself away from her for a bit, worried all he would do is fuck her until they both were raw and overtaken by the ruinous powers.

"Would you want children?" Roboute asked, between his heated breaths and needy kisses.

Astraea looked at him a bit surprised, and yet like she half expected this, "I thought we had to wait on even marrying, let alone speak of family. But of course I want children. You know this." she replied.

He did. But he still wanted to ask, as if her mind had suddenly changed.

"Good," he smiled rolling on top of her, holding himself up on his knees, which were on each side, "Then we should get some more practice in."

He leaned down and nipped at her ear, as a hand moved over her breasts and down to her hot core, "For once the procedure is done, you are not leaving my side and bed until it sticks."

This might be the single most selfish thing he would do, but he wouldn't regret it. He wanted to feel human, to understand all that he had been fighting to protect for all these long years.

[kimi-no-chikara]

I'm sorry, I've been trying so hard to accept Izuku becoming a UA teacher but I just can't. I love Horikoshi for the happiness he and his story have brought me over the years, but Izuku being a teacher is just bugging me so hard. I know he'd be an incredible teacher, I'm not arguing against that. But beyond the fact that I think Izuku himself would want to at least stay in the hero industry, I don't think there's any chance Katsuki would've let him give up on being a hero.

I think that's why Horikoshi at least made it a point in canon to emphasize that Katsuki especially was behind funding Izuku's hero suit. Because he of all people could not let Deku go. He needed him to be a hero. And I appreciate that we at least see that much in canon. But honestly I think Katsuki would've stepped in sooner than 8 years later and never would have let Izuku give up on being a hero in the first place.

I don't know at what point Izuku gave up on being a pro hero and started looking at other career options, but whenever it happened, I just know he must have spoken to Katsuki about it. Izuku, unreliable narrator that he is, probably fooled even himself into thinking that he's okay with it. That he's blessed to have lived his dream as long as he did. That his time is over. But Katsuki would've shut that shit right down.

Kacchan Bakugou did not watch Izuku spend 10+ years wanting nothing more than to be a hero, while quirkless, just to then watch him give up on being a hero because he lost his quirk. He would've called bullshit on that immediately.

Katsuki knows Izuku intimately. He knows how badly Izuku needs to be a hero. Being quirkless never stopped Izuku from wanting to be a hero before. There's no reason it should stop him now. And he'd say as much. Ain't no way he'd let Izuku give up on being a hero just because he lost OFA.

[goldensunset]

while I can't say I've encountered nearly as many Radiant Garden fans as you probably have in order for that to jump to mind, I actually did find myself really agreeing with your take on it. I totally thought I was missing some cutscenes for a while, like maybe I just hadn't seen something that was in the manga or in the DS version of 358/2 days, but no. people actually do just extrapolate off of nothing. and while that's fine for the most part, I never see this level of dedication being put in for female characters. as a huge Aqua fan it's frustrating that she has so many interesting qualities that I'd love to see explored but DON'T because most of the fandom would rather extrapolate from a guy with 4 seconds of screen time than even think about her. unless she's being shipped with Terra, I guess. I think the R.G. folks are just a microcosm of that bigger issue--they'd dig into the earth's fucking mantle looking for gold in an emo boy before digging six feet down for a woman

salt under the cut (i won’t make this a habit i promise)

adjdjcnsnxn that’s an incredible way to put it i might steal that phrasing… see like again i understand the ienzo thing purely from a life situation point of view. if a lil boy was an orphan raised by sketchy weirdos in a lab and then at the ripe old age of 8 had the whole losing-his-heart-and-growing-up-less-than-human-raised-in-a-cult thing. sure i’d want to explore that too! i’d read farther into it than canon. but literally where is the passion for aqua or kairi or skuld etc etc… i mean the girls have their fans but like no one is out here constructing an entire elaborate universe out of them. like i do my best but it’s hard work… but i mean that’s hardly surprising right. that’s how the story goes

honestly ienzo fans don’t even make me mad it’s more like i get annoyed when ppl obsess over like. aeleus and dilan.. because respectfully and i say this with love. there is *nothing* there. they didn’t even bother bringing back their vas in kh3. they are filler. why do all the shifty weirdo radiant garden men draw rabid fans but heaven forbid the ladies get love. hold on *approaches hornet’s nest with a baseball bat* i think there’s something about specifically adult fictional men that- ((i reconsider and stop myself))

but like. people are allowed to do whatever they want idk at worst it’s annoying when they start attacking others over alleged mischaracterization. yes i know in your fun and admittedly interesting fantasy he acts like this. but you cannot get mad when another fan portrays him the way we see him in canon lollllllllll

[pkmoth]

having swap au thoughts. *slaps roof of claus* there's so much mental illness in this guy. im gonna blow up everyone in the room and then myself

[good-soupmens]

I'm hearing a lot of "Crowley deserves to be petty after what Aziraphale did"

And I get it? But hearing "I forgive you" after throwing ALL his chips in at once and watching Aziraphale leave (for who knows how long) was traumatic. It doesn't seem likely he'd pester him about it after they make up just for the sake of being petty.

They'll need an open and uncontained conversation (a big one) to apologize, understand each other, and forgive. Given where they ended off, it's so dire for them to have each other that I think Crowley would make it past any residual anger, not by sweeping it under the rug, but by facing his emotions head-on. Even if it takes a fight, he won't want to leave things unsaid.

It wouldn't be unfair for Crowley to hold resentment, but their falling out isn't the kind of thing he'd keep reliving just to guilt Aziraphale about. It was a heartbreaking fight, and he'll want them to heal from it properly.

I think he'll simply offer his forgiveness. Even if it's more than Aziraphale deserves in the moment, Crowley would give him mercy. He has a good heart. He's full of what heaven lacks. When it's all said and done, he'll want the pain between them to just be over.

[tariah23]

It’s always crazy to see black celebs spew this same rhetoric because it’s such a privileged take… like, they’ve been famous for so long and have gotten their money up, moved out of the projects or whatever tf, that they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be genuinely feel. It’s impossible for them to connect anymore. As far as the qrt, oh wow ☠️.

[nomairuins]

anyways sry its not srs eventually ill get it together . and be a person again. one day

[v1xv4p0rub]

I hate this. I don't want a romantic relationship or situationship or anything like that- I just want a friend I can platonically flirt with (and be flirted with) in a way that seems romantic but isn't. Give me the comfort of recognizing that I'm not ostracized and can have people interested in me just like most of my other friends without the pressure of having to reciprocate anything.

Call me a pretty boy, tell me you love me, make some flirty comment and tease me when I get embarrassed by it, hold me, hold me

[kelpiemomma]

The screaming had lasted for hours.

Not screaming like someone was dying; Ingo would have intervened if that were the case.

In some ways, the argument he could almost hear was worse.

The twins had come round with Cori and Razz, picking up Akari and Rei and taking them out for ice cream when it had started. Ingo had asked Davis about it who had, reasonably, looked uncomfortable.

"Dizzy loves our brother, she really, really does. But she... takes his lifestyle personally. They're very similar like that." Davis had responded quietly. "It's an old argument with no end. This happens- not normally in front of the kids, so Khan had us take them out of the house when she started winding up, and Cor asked if we could grab Akari for ice cream and..."

Ingo had let them go, sitting at home and listening. He couldn't hear the words but he could hear the tone. How angry Dizzy was, how it would go quiet and then there would be another outburst. Only a handful of times did Khan raise his voice in return at his sister, but never for very long. Ingo couldn't remember having any arguments like that with Emmet. He didn't remember their childhood, but the memories he had recovered of their teenage years and before his accident... he didn't think he and his twin had ever been quite so volatile.

Then again, there had been no signs of this sort of conflict between the oldest siblings either. If he wasn't hearing it, he'd never have thought they'd fight like this. Given the lack of interference from the rest of the neighborhood he wagered Davis was right, and that the best way to deal with this storm was simply to ride it out.

When the argument finally ended he was standing by his window that looked into his neighbor's front yard, worried. Dizzy stormed out with Khan following quickly behind. Ingo had never seen him look so... small. It was hardly a word one would associate with the young man, given his height and stature, and yet it was the only word Ingo could think of to describe him.

He watched as Khan reached for his sister, only for her to turn and slap his hand away.

“Why can’t you even try, you self-sacrificing bastard? You never even try!”

She stomped down the sidewalk, slamming the door to her car shut before turning it on and pulling out at a decidedly unsafe speed. Ingo watched as Khan stared after her, shoulders still slumped, before he put a hand up to his face and turned to walk back into his home.

Maybe it would be better to leave well enough alone, to pretend he hadn’t overheard… _that,_ but Khan was… well. Khan was his friend. Things may have been shaky to start with between them, but they had smoothed out. Khan knew about Ingo’s amnesia and never once judged him for it. Now, Ingo knew about… this.

Still. He hesitated before walking out of his own home and down the sidewalk to his neighbor’s, glancing around at the rest of the homes on the street. Blinds were slowly opening, curious eyes peeking through to see what still stood in the wake of the hurricane argument. The door to Khan’s home was unlocked when he tried the handle and Ingo slowly opened the door.

“Khan?” He called out.

There was a sniffling sound, a familiar hitch of breath.

“Yeah?” Khan’s voice was thick and low when he replied. “What’s up, need something fixed?”

“No, I…” Ingo shut the door behind him. The house was in one piece. For all the screaming and noise it appeared that nothing had been broken. The argument may have sounded violent but nobody had gotten physical. “I heard what happened and I was wondering if you were… alright.”

“Oh, you… you heard that?” Khan hadn’t come out to find him and so Ingo continued towards his voice instead. “Well,  yeah. They could probably hear that on the moon.”

“Possibly. I was unaware that Dizzy’s volume could rival my own.”

Khan was sat in the kitchen, slouched down in one of the chairs he’d built by hand. A byproduct of one of the many jobs he’d taken to keep his siblings fed, homed, and safe. He still looked, to Ingo’s dismay, small. Defeated. Deflated of all life.

“Yeah, she’s got some pipes on her. Always has. About burst my eardrums when she was a toddler, the way she’d howl when she threw a fit.”

One hand was rubbing at his face and his shoulders were still shaking intermittently. Ingo paused, uncertain, before he rested a hand on Khan’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what happened, but if you’d like to talk about it… or if you’d prefer, I can leave?”

Khan was silent long enough that Ingo prepared to straighten up, head out the door, and pretend this had never happened.

Khan leaned forward, rubbed his eyes again, and shook his head.

“You can stay,” he said quietly, and Ingo pretended he didn’t see the tears falling onto the floor, “it’s fine. You can stay.”

[wayfinderships]

Every once in a while I think about my old L.upin III s/i and the whole situation they had going on with him and man...

[spaghettiandart]

Hello! I’m a recent follower, and I really love your Old Man Phil AU. I was wondering, does Phil ever realize that he was a racist, genocidal zealot who was going to be responsible for a *lot* of deaths on the Day of Unity? If so, how does he feel when he remembers? You don’t have to answer this if your ask box is super full, or if you just don’t want to.

Hey! Sorry for taking a while to get back to this post, it's been a while since I've watched TOH and my interest in the au has died down. But I have thought about how a possible reveal like this would go, though since the au was mostly for laughs (and so I could relentlessly bully Belos) I didn't put much in depth thought into it.

I do love to ramble, though, so let me ramble a bit about how I'd like to portray "the reveal" in the au

Since this is a early season 1 au, a LOT of things are obviously diverging from canon, too many to really write down right now. Thered be different events entirely from canon, things that occurred as a catalyst of either Belos's actions or the actions or people associated with him would either not occur at all or occur differently, so the timeline is definitely going to look a lot different.

That said, I think having Phil realize/remember who he was/is should happen around... maybe mid-to-late season 2? I mean like. I don't know how exactly itd go. Maybe he falls down another set of stairs, wakes up, and goes "HOLY SHIT" like right after

I feel like itd be a huge tonal whiplash. Also itd be like... okay, so memories do shape a person, and the new memories "Phil" forms shapes him. So I imagine if/when the old memories comes back, there's a definite conflict of priorities/moral values going on there. I mean I imagine inherently Belos/Philip is an incredibly selfish person with a list of crimes several miles long, BUT he also believes that everything he's doing is the right thing (for whom, whether it be himself or humanity or whatever season 3 revealed, is up in the air) even when he takes enjoyment from the suffering of others during the process (literally just count any of the times hes hurt someone else in the show) like hes so full of himself it physically hurts, so obviously he'd probably try to rationalize everything to himself. Because I imagine having the willpower to keep on doing shit like that for CENTURIES takes a BUNCH of rationalization and leaps of logic, especially since hes a zealot who grew up within heavily religious and I imagine almost cultish surroundings.

I imagine denial. HEAVY denial. Imagine one day you're just some old dude with a mildly shitty attitude and then the next day you wake up and remember your entire past life where you were a racist, genocidal, puritanical tyrant that had extended his own life by unnatural means and also killed his own brother and did WHAT with his body and also is planning to Literally Murder Everyone. What do you even do in that situation?

I dont think hed be able to look anyone in the eye at all after learning that. A) because these are people past-him wanted to MURDER, and B) because a very decent part of him, after having regained those memories, still feels the ingrained hate and vitriol it once had towards witches.

Its strange to think of where hed go from that point, because you'd have to take into account both his older personality and his newer personality and the morals, memories, relationships, etc both past him and current him had, since they'd all affect what hed do.

But basically: a whole mix of emotions including guilt (at the whole murder and being a terrible human being thing like seriously awful), rage (at losing his memories in the first place), even more rage (at having "played house" with witches and demons), denial, denial, and more denial.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

You don't understand how unhinged I feel trying to construct an ending for Bleach that I personally would enjoy while knowing Bleach does not deserve my time and also not remembering enough to actually make anything coherent. And yet here I am.