#you deserve better and you will find your person

[fastandcarlos]

Personal Photographer : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: when daniel’s feed suddenly becomes much more aesthetic, the fans are intrigued to find out who’s behind the sudden change

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liked by yukitsunoda0511, maxverstappen1 and 792,726 others

danielricciardo: another great weekend in monza, thanks to my photographer for making sure to capture all my best angles 🏎️🏁

37,058 comments

username1: his account is getting suspiciously aesthetic these days 🤔

oscarpiastri: this is an upgrade even compared to daniel.jpg these days!

username2: tell us rb has hired a new photographer without telling us they’ve hired a new photographer…

georgerussell63: omw to come and steal this photographer asap!

landonorris: as far as I was aware you didn’t actually have any good angles 😳

danielricciardo: @/landonorris no one asked for your opinion here!

username3: such a great race weekend daniel, so proud of you ❤️

alex_albon: that third photo has me in the feels ngl, talk about man of steel 🥺

username4: whoever this photographer is they deserve a pay rise for blessing us with these!!

lewishamilton: great race aside from the fact you knocked me out the points 🙄

danielricciardo: @/lewishamilton I’d love to say sorry…only I’m not 😂

username5: now these photos are serving 🔥

yukitsunoda0511: a great race for the team, let’s keep going for the rest of the season 💪🏻

username6: this high standard better stick around when it comes to the gram daniel!!

maxverstappen1: a match made in heaven daniel in a red bull suit ❤️

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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 629,059 others

danielricciardo: got told to hire a photographer for the latest enchante shoot, little did they know I had my own photographer already right by my side 🌿💯

34,085 comments

username7: well these photos are enough to convince me to buy enchante 😂

alex_albon: bet you’re feeling pretty smug with these photos right now!

danielricciardo: @/alex_albon told you this girl knows all my good sides 😊

username8: idk who this photographer is but I’m begging you to keep her forever daniel

maxverstappen1: saving that third photo to be my new lock screen asap

username9: have you ever seen three photos that scream boyfriend more than these???

georgerussell63: damn these photos should come with a warning or something danny ric 😍

oscarpiastri: did you use enchante as an excuse for your own personal photoshoot???

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri don’t reveal all my secrets like this!

username10: apologies to the neighbours for the yell I just let out opening my phone to this 😂😂

charles_leclerc: who knew green was your colour after all!

username11: stop I was not prepared for this in the slightest 😭

landonorris: heartbroken you didn’t invite me to come and be part of this photo shoot too 😭

danielricciardo: @/landonorris the photographer only wanted handsome models 🤷🏻

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liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 694,208 others

danielricciardo: wondering if these photos make me boyfriend material yet…🤔☕️

41,959 comments

username12: can 100% assure you these are the hottest boyfriend material photos I’ve ever seen!!!

lewishamilton: I think that caption alone makes you boyfriend material 🤢

username13: I wonder if these are courtesy of his photographer friend again 🤔

oscarpiastri: there’s a strong it girl vibe coming from that first photo my friend

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri grandpa is too old to know what even means 😂

username14: something tells me this photographer might be more than just a photographer…

landonorris: I don’t even recognise you anymore, so cheesy and soft 😂

username15: I knew there must’ve been a reason behind these sudden aesthetic snaps 🙄

sebastianvettel: wondering when you’re going to bother meeting up with me and take me out for coffee too.

username16: I can’t cope with how adorable this man has been recently 💓

maxverstappen1: you’ve always been boyfriend material to me 😘

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 stop flirting with me in public ☺️

username17: boyfriend material and seemingly now a boyfriend too…

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liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 728,057 others

danielricciardo: the perfect weekend off with my favourite human adventuring around yet another new part of the world ☀️🌊

48,472 comments

username18: not the fact daniel even carried her bag around for her 🥺

landonorris: *second favourite human after lando norris

danielricciardo: @/landonorris I cannot stress how untrue that statement is

username19: the cutest surfer in the world 🫠

georgerussell63: you know its love when he carries her bag for her 😂

danielricciardo: @/georgerussell63 who knew that girls needed so many things 🤦🏻

username20: pls don’t tell me this isn’t his photographer and she actually there as a third wheel 😂😂

oscarpiastri: as long as I’m still your favourite aussie idc 🤔

username21: do we need to remind you daniel how much we hate these soft launches???

yukitsunoda0511: does this mean that I don’t have to be the only one to listen to you talk about her anymore??

pierregasly: I bet you didn’t take much persuading to take that photo with your shirt off either 🔥

username22: I’ve already decided that these two are my favourites and I don’t even know who she is yet!!

maxverstappen1: impressed you’ve finally managed to get yourself a girlfriend after all these years 👏🏻

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liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63 and 719,058 others

danielricciardo: a dream weekend with my personal photographer giving me enough photos to send the fangirls wild 🔥🍃

42,059 comments

lewishamilton: these posts feel like you’re finally tryna mature or something, this must girl must have you pretty in love…

username23: is this the reveal??? is it her??? pls tell me it it’s she’s beautiful???

maxverstappen1: don’t worry about the fangirls, you drive me crazy honey 🫠

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 you always know the right thing to say! ☺️

username24: was she ever a photographer or just a proud girlfriend 🤔

alex_albon: you can’t just pay people to run around after you with a camera in their hands all the time, we’ve talked about this 🤦🏻

danielricciardo: @/alex_albon don’t you start, I was relying on you to be on my side!

username25: damn sleeping with your own photographer daniel 🤨

landonorris: she’s too hot to be your gf, nice try ricciardo 🙄

username26: can confirm that the fangirls are indeed going wild about these updates!!

carlossainz55: these photos remind me why I’m secretly so in love with you 😂

username27: everyone say thank you to her for loving daniel and blessing us with all these photos!

charles_leclerc: look at you with two hands on the wheel 🤨

danielricciardo: @/charles_leclerc definitely not just to make people think I’m safe for a photo!!

username28: a beautiful girlfriend with photography skills, you’re really winning at life ricciardo 👏🏻

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liked by landonorris, yukitsunoda0511 and 788,472 others

danielricciardo: thought I’d finally share with you my little snapper…keeping me looking fresh on the gram and never found without a camera in her hand 💞📸

59,472 comments

username29: “little snapper” omg they’re just the cutest 🥺

landonorris: wait I thought you were joking about the fact you had a girlfriend 😂😂😂

georgerussell63: you guys look so good together, happy for you my friend!

username30: they’re smiles together they seem so well suited!!

iamrebeccad: vogue are looking for a photographer to shoot me next week, send me her details asap!

ynusername: @/iamrebeccad stfu are you serious!?!?

username31: I’m already obsessed with these two my heart just can’t cope 💕

maxverstappen1: omw to steal your girl and hire her to make my social media look better too 🏃🏻

username32: pls never let her go daniel, for your heart and our satisfied insta scrolling too 😂

oscarpiastri: if yn ever gets bored I will happily pay mclaren to steal her from you and snap us instead!!

mclaren: @/oscarpiastri we’ll take her for free with photos that good 🧡

username33: yn isn’t gonna be out of a job with all the boys wanting to hire her out too 😂

ynusername: I’m not gonna lose that nickname, am I??

danielricciardo: @/ynusername it’s adorable if you ask me 💕

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liked by ynusername, maxverstappen1 and 748,069 others

danielricciardo: take her to play basketball once and look at us now (can we also appreciate the fact that I took that selfie too, see yn, I’m learning 🥺) 🏀

47,058 comments

username34: if yn took that photo we wouldn’t have that lighting in the background 😉

alex_albon: I’ve played basketball with you and refuse to accept someone is worse than you 😂

username35: not the way he’s holding her up on his shoulders so she can score 🥹

lewishamilton: I was at that game too, wish I’d have known and we could’ve hooked up!

ynusername: played basketball once and still better than you at it 🤷🏻‍♀️

danielricciardo: @/ynusername tell that to the slam dunk that dunked straight onto your head!

username36: patiently waiting for the next daniel.jpg update after meeting yn…

username37: have you ever met two people happier with each other in your life???

landonorris: don’t only the cool kids go to the basketball!?

danielricciardo: @/landonorris guess what that makes us then 😎

username38: these two are such couple goals they make me feel single in my own relationship!

liam.lawson: looks like I’ll have to teach you a thing or two as a definite cool kid ⛹🏻

username39: whoever introduced these two together I owe my life to you now ☺️

maxverstappen1: secretly only took that first picture to flex your muscles anyway 😏

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liked by sebastianvettel, oscarpiastri and 802,488 others

danielricciardo: took my photographer to the zoo for the day, turns out she makes a pretty hot date too 🔥🦥

51,959 comments

ynusername: did I teach you nothing about photography over the past few months?? 🤦🏻‍♀️

danielricciardo: @/ynusername I think these photos are great what are you on about!? 😂

ynusername: @/danielricciardo just gonna look past the sideways head are we?!

username40: maybe let yn stick to being the one behind the camera daniel 😂

landonorris: you belong in the zoo if you ask me 🤫

danielricciardo: @/landonorris don’t worry I said hi to your siblings for you 🐷

username41: the way his head pokes out in the first photo is just typical daniel 🙄

yukitsunoda0511: you guys are too cute!!

kellypiquet: pls bring her back to monaco in one piece 🙏🏻

username42: idk who’s cuter, the animals or daniel 🤔

maxverstappen1: offended that you’ve never taken me on a date to the zoo ngl

oscarpiastri: one of my fave places ever, hope yn enjoyed the zoo!!

username43: pls make sure she stays by your side forever daniel, we adore her ❤️

username44: he took her home that means things must be serious 😅

georgerussell63: still not as hot as you tho ☺️

danielricciardo: @/georgerussell63 stop it you flirt 😍

username45: everyone needs their own personal photographer if they’re as amazing as yn 🥺

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˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[hxney-lemcn]

Time for a Break — Housewardens x gn! reader

summery: it's the end of the year and you have nowhere to go...

tw: slight angst (Riddle, Idia, Malleus)

wc: 1.7k (~230 per character)

Master List

With nonstop overblots, exams, homework, studying, and keeping your friends in line, you hadn’t even realized that the end of the year was approaching rapidly. You could barely take in your end of the year grades before coming face to face with the fact that you have nowhere to go while everyone gets a summer break. Didn’t you deserve a break too? You felt like you were going to collapse and evaporate if you didn’t sleep in a bed that doesn’t have lumps. In a fit of despair, you go to the only person you can think of.

Riddle Rosehearts

Okay…so you are not allowed to come home with him. His reason for saying no is vastly different from his mothers reason. He doesn’t want to cause you any more stress, or have to hear his mother’s insults that she’ll inevitably spout towards you. No, instead he helps you ask Trey. Although Trey’s home already is a full house, his family welcomes you with open arms. All his siblings overcrowd you (no matter how much Trey tries to stop them), his parents ask many questions to get to know you better, and you end up sharing a room with Trey. All the while, you can’t help but think about Riddle, wishing you could find a way to get him out of his own personal hell. Over time, you and Trey visit Riddle, your only meetings being through his window. Every so often you’d bring Riddle a sweet treat that you learned how to bake either from Trey or his parents. As much as you enjoy having a break with such a lovely family, you can’t help wanting for the next school year to happen. Not for the school work, or the overblots (hopefully there won’t be any the upcoming year), but because you’ll get to see Riddle again, not through a window or with hushed whispers. But in person, speaking to each other freely once more. 

Leona Kingscholar

When you hinted about not having anywhere to go, hoping that the lion would take the bait and let you stay with him, he just ignored you. Didn’t even pretend to act like he was listening to you. Squinting your eyes, you stood up from his bed, announcing that Malleus might be willing to take you in…you couldn’t get far before Leona grabbed your wrist, pulling you into him and holding you close. Who said you could go and stay with that overgrown lizard? Wasn’t it obvious you were staying with him? You were scared of meeting his family, they were royalty and Leona had spoken bad of them. You had met his nephew, and little did you know that the boy had talked his parents ear off about you and Leona for a day before finding a new topic. Leona’s brother and sister in law welcomed you to their palace with open arms, greeting you warmly before excusing themselves. It was a bit to get used to, trying new foods, sleeping in a bed that was way too luxurious, being treated like royalty, becoming a nanny…yeah. You now realized one of the reasons why Leona dreaded coming back. As much as you adored Cheka…he could be a bit much. Overall, it's not the worst place to stay, but it would feel a bit lonely without Leona or Cheka around. 

Azul Ashengrotto

Oh boy…were you both that far in your relationship already? No? He’s just overthinking it? Okay, this was fine. He was a host after all, and he did owe you for basically saving his life…and being the one he loved. His only problem? His mother. As much as Azul loved his mother…he could not have her sharing his baby photos with you. He’ll have to work overtime over the summer to make sure that doesn’t happen (who is he kidding he can’t say no to his mom). How are you going to stay entire months under water? Who do you think he is? He’s got stocks of underwater breathing potions. When you meet his parents, you don’t have time to think before you’re swooped into a giant hug (probably the best damn hug you’ll ever get too). Then Azul is added to the hug and you're both being squished together. His mother loves you instantly, cooing over you both, feeding you some of the best food you’ve ever had while telling you embarrassing stories of Azul when he was just a little fry. Once again, you start seeing him in a new light, a much softer and loving one. He always tried to show you his gentlemanly and suave side, keeping just how soft of a person he was locked deep down, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

Kalim Al-Asim

What do you mean you have nowhere to go? Weren’t you coming to his place? He would be honored to have you as a guest! Just think of all the sleepovers, dates, game nights, and kisses! Actually, he might’ve gone crazy if he was away from you for such a long time. Kalim’s family doesn’t mind either, they don’t even notice one more person in their extravagant palace. Instead of just being swarmed with siblings, you’ve got cousins and distant relatives around you as well. They have both good and bad intentions, some scheming on how to get closer to Kalim, and others scheming on how to get you to play hide and seek. Kalim is practically bouncing off the walls as he drags you down the halls on his grandiose tour. Laughing heartily over the feast his family calls dinner, then taking you on a breathtaking carpet ride above the Scalding Sands. Each day is a different adventure, and Kalim is the one leading you hand in hand into what awaits you both. Poor Jamil, Kalim only got ten times more impulsive as he tries to show you everything he loves (and buy you anything you eye for a second too long). Also…you are in a bit of danger being seen in public so close to Kalim and with how he shows how much he cares about you…

Vil Schoenheit

Do you think he’d let you stay at Night Raven College for months on end without supervision? You’re crazy. Just be prepared to be in a giant mansion alone for a bit. Vil goes without seeing his father for weeks on end, and he himself has a busy schedule. He’d love to take you with him, but unfortunately the media is as savage as a pack of wolves and would shred you apart without second thought. You didn’t mind too much, as long as you could get away from school for just a minute. With those warnings in mind, you were surprised to be greeted by servants taking your luggage to a spare room (right next to Vil’s) then being treated to a fantastic dinner with Eric, Vil’s father joining you two. Even Vil seemed surprised, asking his father about his latest movie. Eric only laughed, stating that he wanted to meet the person who caught his son's attention. You never felt too alone in the mansion, you’d get ready in the morning with Vil, seeing him off, doing your own thing for the day, and ending the night with a home prepared meal or going out to eat if Vil was feeling extra. On his days off, Vil would take you out, sometimes it would be to a spa, going shopping, or you forcing him to take a break and relax at home and watch some movies. You don’t think you could go back to that wack job of a school after getting a taste of luxury.

Idia Shroud

What. You want to go home with him? You do know where he lives right? You’d be totally isolated from all your other friends…you still want to come home with him? He supposes Ortho would be happy to have you around…fine, he just doesn’t like how excited his parents get when he asks for permission (after all he lives in a very secret location). He’s a bit overwhelmed at first, it seems like such an intimate scenario. You’re going to be living with him in the same house in a super secret base in the middle of nowhere. When you arrive, Idia tries not to shove you into his room and lock the door because his parents are non stop pestering you. Asking you about how you met Idia, how he was doing, and about you and your world. Thankfully for Idia, they had to rush back to work quickly, giving you a warm welcome and telling you to ask for anything if need be. To your surprise, Idia watched you like a hawk (and that’s the times you knew of). S.T.Y.X. was a dangerous place, and he’d be damned if he lost you like he lost Ortho. Be prepared to be trapped in a room lit with blue led lights and playing video games and watching anime until you feel your brain melting. Please bring some vitamin D…you’re not going to get enough sunlight. 

Malleus Draconia

Don’t worry child of man, he already has a room in his palace ready for you. Do you really think he was going to let you stay all alone (with Grim but okay) at Night Raven College? Of course not. You’re his precious child of man, he’ll make sure you get nothing but the best. Of course…he had to make sure his grandmother warmed up to you. You are a human after all, and she hasn’t had the best experience with them. Not to mention how his people will view him for bringing a commoner human into the castle and given the royal treatment. He doesn’t care. In fact, Malleus didn’t even think of such a thing, not until Sebek brought it up. When you arrived you felt overwhelmed as the servants bowed (you almost forgot that Malleus was standing next to you). He tried staying by your side for as long as he could, but as future king, he had many things to attend to. This left you on your own a bit, and you got acquainted with Maleficia. At first she terrified you, but over time you both warmed up to each other and Malleus found himself jealous with how much time you spent with her compared to him. All the while she found it amusing that her grandson was so hung up on a human…but she also found it heartbreaking. A fae falling for a human never had a happy ending, but she’s glad to know you’d take care of him well.

[skzdarlings]

the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part v

part one| part two | part three | part four | part five | tba | ao3 link

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid all worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: reader described with curly hair.

content warnings: the previously established story dynamics are prevalent in this chapter, please proceed at own discretion. the king threatens sexual violence again. there is explicit consensual sexual content in this chapter with reader and jisung. first times, breaking of vows, lots of mental work packed in there lol.

chapter word count: 11500 words.

enjoy <3

-

Despite the delay, you reach the intended campsite before nightfall.  The king finds his own entertainment while everyone else works, erecting tents and constructing fire pits. 

Chan assigns Seungmin to watch the king while he occupies himself elsewhere.  The tension between the king and the leader ripples through the camp, though no one – not even the king – is audacious enough to remark on it. 

The kingsguard has a sanctified power, burdened with the responsibility of protecting the crown above all else.  This manifests as protecting the king, so long as oaths are kept and holy accords obeyed.   The king is abundantly aware he is not in the leader’s good graces right now.   Even that petulant fool of a man is smart enough to recognize that antagonism from an ancient religious order is a perilous position for a holy king. 

Because he cannot harass Chan, the king directs his ire towards Hyunjin, so Chan sends Hyunjin across the camp to help there.  Jisung accompanies him.  As the lowest ranked kingsguard, his absence will not be minded. 

You are irate, watching Hyunjin limp away with Jisung following behind him.  You think of their skill and bravery in protecting you from the assassins.  You think of their loyalty and good hearts.  They both deserve better. 

Stewing in irritation, you opt to stay out of the way.  It is better to remain unobtrusive rather than instigate more dramatics after the events of today.   

You kneel down in the grass, out of the way of the tents.  You are organizing a bag of personal effects when an unfamiliar pair of painted boots appear in your line of your vision.  You slowly look up, startled to find one of the king’s courtiers looming over you.  He is one of the few who has been riding in the carriage and you are surprised he is so far from the inner circle now. 

“Your Holy Majesty,” he says, surprising you with the appropriately respectful title.  He surprises you further by offering his hand and helping you to your feet.  The final surprise is a bow so deep he bends his knees.  “I ask for your grace and forgiveness,” he says.  “And I ask for you to pray on my behalf that the gods may also forgive me for my petty transgressions.  I would never speak ill of the gods-chosen king but—”  He looks over his shoulder briefly, spots the king far across the camp with the remainder of his inner circle.  Satisfied with the distance, he looks at you, expression solemn.  “But I believe human error may have conquered the holy senses,” he says.  In a lower voice, tinged with resentment, he says, “To raise hands to the queen in public, especially after the events of the other day…” 

You are still too surprised to respond.  You stand there, hands folded in front of you, blinking at the man. 

He says with some finality, “I know I am not alone in feeling this way.  Your Holiness, please ensure that you have support in some noble factions here – particularly after today.  And please do recall, this is not all the court, merely the king’s personal selection, and there are those at home in the capital who will also support you.” 

The sincerity of his oath leaves you stunned.  You stare at his footprints long after he has departed. 

The courtier does not return to the inner circle but joins a different cluster of palace residents.  Their attention turns to you,  followed by dips and bows. 

Your bewildered mind finally catches up to your racing heart.  You sweep into a quick return bow.  When you turn away, you let out a breath.  Your eyes trace the treeline around the clearing.  The smoky orange mist of sunset winds through the branches.  You look but do not see, mentally replaying the whole exchange.

It seems even the most devout courtiers have a restricted capacity for tolerance.  Their motivations may be selfish, in seeing a flagrant disrespect of the gods’ will and worrying what ramifications will manifest for them, but it is still a significant loyalty shift.

You allow yourself a little smile.  Knowing the camp is no longer brimming with hostiles lightens your heavy heart.

You are barely at ease when you turn around, startled again by yet another visitor.  This time is the kingsguard Minho.  He stands as still and patient as marble, poised like a handsome statue, hand on the hilt of his sword.  He lists slightly to that side, his other hand dangling in a fist. 

“Your Majesty,” he says.  His bow is more of a nod as he seems lost in contemplation – or maybe that is scrutiny, studying you like your face holds the answer to some profound question. 

You are open as ever, as patiently marble, waiting for him.  

He exhales.  It sounds like a surrendering.   It makes you nervous, especially with the way he darts a glances over his shoulder.  The king and other kingsguards are busy, the courtiers turned to their own affairs, and servants busy with meal preparation.

You cannot imagine what Minho has to say or do that cannot be witnessed.

Your answer comes without a word, but a gesture, his closed first opening between you.  You jump at what he reveals.

The phial of sleeping draft.  You assumed it was lost in the ocean tide.  Last you touched it, it went into your dress pocket, and that dress is now underwater.  You thought the draft was lost too.  You lamented the only protection you had in prolonging the king’s advances. 

It must have fallen out of your pocket earlier than that, when you threw yourself to the forest floor in sickness.  Minho helped you through it.  Somewhere in your distraction, he must have grabbed the bottle. 

A hot flash of terror spreads through you, looking at the dark liquid sloshing around in that little phial.  When you look up, his brow is furrowed, face pinched with intense scrutiny. 

You are not sure what to expect.   Minho is decent and he seems close with Jisung, which naturally lends your trust to him, but your interactions have been minimal and cordial.   He could grab you by the wrist and drag you to Chan, accusing you of harbouring poison.  It would no doubt instigate the king’s wrath and everything would spiral before you could catch your breath. 

Minho sighs. 

“Will it kill him?” he asks. 

“Oh.”  It is not the question you are expecting.  Nonetheless, with sincerity and pleading eyes, you reply, “No.  I swear.  It’s just a sleeping draft.  For – for myself.  To help me – at night.” 

He has clever eyes, full of thought.  You suspect he can deduce what that really means.    

“Mm,” is all he says.  He takes your hand and puts the phial in your palm, then he closes your fingers around it.  He gives you a look, something stern, something that demands secrecy without a word. 

You nod, clutching the bottle tightly. 

“Be careful,” he says. 

“Of course,” you reply. 

He walks away while you gather yourself, the adrenaline of two unpredictable encounters simmering.  It has not yet settled when the king barks an order, his voice making you jump, particularly when your name is included in his angry tone. 

It draws Hyunjin from the outskirts.  He is still teeming, looking as though he wants any excuse to swing at the king again, punishments be damned.  Jisung is a step behind him, looking with worried eyes while the king seeks you out. 

The king stops a distance from you, shouting across a fire pit, like he cannot be bothered to cross that space – or maybe because he sees a fuming Hyunjin in his periphery.  He does not look at the kingsguards, not even Chan who approaches on his other side. 

He glares at you, enunciating every word with a snarling upturn of his lip as he says, “Go to the river.  Bathe yourself.  You will see me tonight.” 

This gives you another flash of terror, wide-eyed as you stare at his retreating form.  The implications are not subtle.  They are also not surprising.  He has spent the day being belittled and tested and he blames the brunt of it on you.  Of course a cruel and violent man would wrestle back his supposed dignity in the only hateful way he can, putting you in whatever perceived place he believes you belong. 

You know he will make it awful.   He would have been unkind on your initial wedding night, but now you are certain he will be brutal.   He does not just want to use you, he wants to hurt you. 

You wish you could be stronger in the face of this reality, uncaring and brash and mouthy, snarking at him behind his back.  Your heart is not built that way.  You are frightened and very sad, fist curled so tightly at your side that it shakes. 

You almost forget what that fist is holding until you glance at Minho.  He is leaning against a tree, out of sight of the king.  He quirks an eyebrow then mimes taking a drink. 

Unfortunately, this makes you laugh, your nerves melting into the outburst of sound. 

The king looks at you over his shoulder, his eyes furious.  You feel the sparkle in your own as you stare back at him. 

Before the king speaks again, Chan steps forward.  His displeasure is obvious, his concern more so.   He looks at you with that despondency, helpless to do anything insofar as the marriage bed.  That is not the realm of the kingsguard, to say the least, though Chan looks like he wishes he could command otherwise. 

“The queen should not be left unaccompanied,” Chan says.  Looking at the king, he says bitingly, “Especially considering recent attempts on her life, Your Holiness.” 

Holiness sounds like an accusation in that tone. 

The king straightens, glaring back at Chan. 

Hyunjin, seemingly determined to escalate the mounting tension, walks towards you with an easy gait.  He smiles a very charming smile. 

“I can escort the queen,” he says, in a very different voice than usual, almost sultry in its depth.  It makes you blink in confusion.   

The king forgets Chan entirely as he reels around, pointing a finger at Hyunjin. 

“You will burn for eternity first, kingsguard,” the king snaps. 

Hyunjin just smiles prettily, hands folded neatly behind his back.  The lack of response agitates the already exasperated king, who huffs and shakes his head.  His eyes dart around and inevitably land on Han Jisung.  It startles Jisung who swings into an instinctive bow.  He stares wide-eyed at the ground. 

“Bard boy,” the king says.  “Take the queen.” 

You look at Jisung as he straightens.  His blinking gaze moves from the king to you. 

That laughter is still caught in your throat, its bubbling delight only intensifying as you look at each other.  You think of that kiss on the riverbank, the softness of his every glance since then.  You do not even think it is especially subtle, or maybe you are just supremely aware of it, holding his gaze as he approaches you.  You feel like it gives everything away. 

But the king is arrogant and he thinks Jisung is nobody important.  He does not even glance at Jisung, his eyes following Hyunjin as he waltzes away. 

“Are you going to take me then, bard boy?” you whisper. 

Jisung chokes on a laugh, a blush darkening the tips of his ears.  He looks over his shoulder but everyone else is ambling back to their posts.  

He looks at your innocently fluttering eyelashes. 

“Don’t tease,” he says with a nervous giggle.  “I think it might kill me.” 

He means it in a playfully hyperbolic way, but you grant there is a sobering truth to that statement.  It succeeds in quieting you, your fingers now clammy where they grip the phial.  You let your mind wander to that, preoccupied with the thought of tonight while you fetch some necessities.  Jisung is dutifully quiet the entire trek, following at an appropriate length all the way down to the riverside. 

You think he has similarly sobered, so quiet behind you as you step through the trees to the water.  The grass turns to sand and pebbles beneath your feet, crunching with every step. 

Your mind is far away, thinking of your very precarious position, how you can slip the king sleeping draft tonight, if it is even worth it to prolong the inevitable.  You doubt he will ever change his feelings for you.  You cannot be so demure and loving that a man with no respect for humanity will somehow see the special humanity in you. 

Your gaze rests on the flowing river, the setting sun as it casts streak of orange and lavender over the water.   The breeze is laced with an evening chill, brushing a curl off your shoulder.

You realize that is not the breeze.  The gentle touch is Jisung.  You shiver as his fingertips follow the tumbling curl down your back, until he is not even touching you but you still feel the proximity.  It moves through you with an intensity far more powerful than the king’s threatening glower. 

This warmth is not terror, a different heat that rushes and burns with startling efficiency. 

“What can I do?” he asks in that careful, low voice. 

You remember him behind you just like this, supporting your body, the look on his face and the feel of him as you discovered more pleasure than you ever knew existed.  You are amazed that it is not the most preached phenomenon of them all, that the gods would bestow such a gift on humanity.  You cannot imagine what you would have done without the revelation.  The immensity of it all has you shivering. 

“You’ve already done so much,” you say. 

“I’ll come to you after,” he says, words flowing in a nervous rush.  “I’ll help you.  Whatever you need – if you’re – if something happens – I can come.  The king won’t care if it’s just me.  I’m just bard boy, ha-ha, I don’t – it won’t matter, at least—”

You turn around.  His breath catches as your eyes meet.  His hand is still hovering, trembling, but he drops it to his side.  His eyes dart to the empty treeline and back. 

“Bard boy,” you whisper with a smile, teasing.  “The king may believe otherwise, but you are most assuredly admired by your queen.”  

“You—”  He looks at the still-empty treeline then you again.  He is so clearly flustered. On a startled, nervous laugh, he says, “You can’t say things like that to me.”

“Why not?” 

He kisses you, a reply made with no hesitation.  He cups a hand around your jaw, fingers firm on your neck with a guiding pull.  He kisses you and it is more than a touch.  If some kisses are whispers, this is a song, rhythmic and grand. 

Your knees nearly buckle beneath you.  This is your third kiss but it feels like first and the thousandth, the natural way you move together, gasps of breath and pressing lips.  His hand moves under your hair, cupping the back of your neck.  Your own hand raises, fingertips stroking his jaw then resting between his neck and shoulder. 

He makes a noise into the kiss, tilting his head, kissing you with so much intensity that you both stumble.  His eyes widen at his own actions, a hand covering his mouth as he looks at the treeline.  His startled expression makes you burst into giggles, still riding the high of the kiss itself. 

“That was – that was my fault,” he says, throwing his hands into a surrender, then raking them through his hair until it is a dishevelled mess.  “My fault, my fault, it’s fine, it’s fine.”  He makes a series of faces while muttering to himself, giggling nervously at you, then walking away to stand guard. 

You turn your back to him, hiding your smile as you touch your lips.  Somehow a kiss provided all the courage you needed to decide, yes, it will be worth prolonging the king’s advances.  You and Jisung are already outsmarting him, his arrogant eye turned to the wrong kingsguard, and you will continue to find ways to do so.   The sleeping draft was made by a friend and you know you will develop more.  Perhaps alone you cannot combat a king, but you are not alone. 

For now, you play his game.  A quick wash will feel good after the long day in the summer sun regardless of intention. 

You do not fully strip down, simply to your shift, as is appropriate for a queen bathing out-of-doors.  It is about the only appropriate protocol, as you should have more company than solitary male guard, even a kingsguard.  It is not surprising the king has you left you bereft of any ladies, forgoing introductions, actively discouraging his nobles.  That is something you will remedy yourself, in the capital. 

For now, you are not mad it is just you and Jisung.  You glance at him while disrobing, catching his eye, smiling at his flustered blush as he looks away again.

You pile your curls as high as you can, then step to the water.  Even though there is a chill in the air, the water is warm because the hot sun has been pouring down all day.  You suspect it will be colder to emerge than to enter.  For now, it is comfortable as it laps at the foot of your shift, darkening the hem as you walk. 

You find a smooth boulder to perch yourself, grateful to use one of your own soaps from home as you scrub your skin.  The breeze is sharp against your wet skin so you sink into the water up to your shoulders, paddling around for a little bit as you let the day wash off you. 

The sunset has lost its golden traces, from orange to pink, and you let yourself admire the colours as they swirl overhead. 

When you look at Jisung, he is already staring at you.  He is sitting on a rock, fiddling with the hilt of his sword in an absent-minded distraction.  He exhales heavily when you look at him. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“I—”  He laughs, seemingly at himself.  He thuds the heel of his palm against his forehead in a punishing little smack.  “Nothing,” he says.  He looks at the ground then slowly at you, his gaze moving across the shimmering water before tracing up your shoulders, neck, and face.   “I just hope no one tries to attack us right now,” he says.  “Because honestly?”  He lets go of the hilt to show his hand, revealing the slight tremble.  He immediately crosses his arms, tucking his hands under them.  “I don’t think I’d be much help,” he finishes with a laugh. 

“Don’t worry,” you say, matching his smile.  “I’ll keep you safe.” 

“Oh,” he says.  “Good.” 

You smile at each other for another moment.  It is disturbed when you hear the king shouting about food, far into the distance.  A couple of birds, no doubt settled for the night, fly out of the trees and away.  You spread your arms in the water and watch them go, wishing it was so easy to escape. 

“We should go back,” Jisung says, though he sounds as uneasy as he looks, biting his bottom lip, his big eyes as shiny and concerned as ever. 

The water is not very deep.  When you stand, it comes below your hips.  You squeak, a mousey and unqueenly sound, as the evening chill swarms you.

“Oh goodness,” you say, too distracted with the cold to think of much else.  “Robe, please.” 

Jisung is a very capable soldier.  You have witnessed it firsthand.  Where most of the kingsguards appear to specialize in certain skills, he has so far proven to be a master of everything.

But he trips over his own feet now.  He slides clumsily across the gravel, drawing a sharp line in the sand.   He manages to remain upright, only just, muttering to himself as he picks up the robe you requested. 

He steps to the water’s edge, the robe under his arm.  He holds out a hand to help guide you forward, but he is very distracted with looking at the rest of you, so he keeps accidentally moving it out of reach. 

You finally clasp his wandering hand.  Only then does he lift his frantic gaze to your eyes. 

This is your second time emerging from water in nothing but a shift, the light material leaving nothing to the imagination.  Last time, you were shy and embarrassed, but it seems a bit silly to be modest now considering what he has seen.  Furthermore, you do not feel embarrassed, not with the way he looks at you.  The shift clings to every curve, nearly translucent, more so with the chill as the sensitive peaks of your breasts pebble against the wet white fabric.   

His eyes dart there again, his mouth open.  He doesn’t say anything.  With a bit of struggle, he manages to say, “Ahhhh…?”

“Robe, please,” you say again, amused.  Truthfully, you are not as cold under his gaze, flushed with a tingling warmth that conquers the other senses. 

“Fuck,” Jisung says, shaking his head as he wraps the robe around your shoulders.  “Sorry for cursing, pretend you didn’t hear it.”

Now that he is speaking, the words come in a breathless stream.  It comes from an honest, human subconscious that a kingsguard should have under control, but which he has evidently relinquished from mental bondage. 

“I can hit him on the head,” Jisung says.  “I mean – fuck.  I can’t do that, obviously.  He’s the king.  I wouldn’t do that – but also I would, if you asked.  If you ask, it’s fine, I’d do anything for the queen.  I should obey the queen.  I must protect her.  Then again, if I hit him on the head, it could go wrong, and he could die, then I didn’t just hit the king but killed him, and kingsguards aren’t supposed to do that.  Well, sometimes they do, but that’s very rare and definitely not the bard’s call.  I shouldn’t kill the king, even if you ask, right?  Right.  Fuck.  Sorry for cursing.  You wouldn’t ask that anyway, even if he deserves it – ah!  I didn’t say that.  Maybe, instead, if I get him drunk, then he won’t be able to – you know–”

He lifts his finger, a rather impolite mime of a rising erection, which he realizes is a very rude gesture to make in front of the queen.   He throws his hands together in a prayer position instead. 

“By which I mean,” he says, “Nothing.  I meant none of that at all.  Of course.  Unless you say otherwise, your Majesty.  Then I meant it all.” 

It is silent save the sound of the river lapping at the shore.  His hands are still clasped for prayer and you are holding the robe closed.  He blinks at you.  You are already smiling. 

“Right,” he says.  “Umm… Fuck.”

You pat him on the arm, stepping around him.  You go to your bag of possessions, kneeling down to find the phial. 

“I wasn’t going to ask for help,” you say.  “I fear I have already put you in a precarious enough position as is—”

“You haven’t done anything,” he says, quick and sharp.  His black robes swish with the swiftness of his spin.  He marches to where you are knelt down. 

You look up at him, your hand closed around the phial, but he does not see it.  His eyes are on your face.

“Your Majesty,” Jisung says.  He crouches down so you can look at each other.  “I’m a lot better at speaking when I’m not – when I’m singing, especially a story about someone else.  That’s easier.  But I—”  He stares into your eyes.  His shoulders fall with an exhale, his expression softening just as surely.  “I wouldn’t go back to the easy I knew days ago.  I know I’m a mess now.  I don’t know what’s happening anymore, or what’s going to happen soon, but—”

He looks at the treeline.  It is still empty, of course.  The king does not see the pretty bard boy as a threat to his dignity and masculinity.  He is probably stomping and brooding and yelling some more, glaring at Hyunjin and Chan, while it is Jisung who lays a hand on your cheek.  Jisung captures you more completely than the king could do with iron. 

“It’s probably wrong to say,” Jisung speaks in a low, rasping voice, his face close to yours.  A tuft of dark hair falls near his brown eyes.  “It’s too selfish for a kingsguard or any mortal to say, but…   You said it first, that you feel the gods when we’re together.”  His thumb strokes your cheek and it might as well be a lightning bolt launched from the heavens, wracking your whole body with a shiver.  “I feel it too,” he says.  “I think I’m supposed to be here.  My life, the war, becoming a kingsguard, a – a – a queensguard – it was supposed to happen.  The gods led us here and we made it happen, and the gods allowed us, so we must – it must – it can’t be completely wrong, right?  When the king is like that, and you are like this.”

You are everything I ever dreamed of worshipping, he told you two nights ago, before you ever kissed, before you even really touched.  It seems those feelings have grown with yours. 

“You’re worth a thousand kings, Han Jisung,” you say. 

It is confident amidst his stammering, and it makes his eyes go wide.  You brush the hair away from those eyes. 

“I don’t know what will happen either,” you say.  “I know the king will try something untoward sooner than later, whether I am faithful and obedient or not.  I believe it is thus appropriate to reserve my faith and loyalty to that which I pray directly.”

You turn your face and kiss his palm.  You look at him from the corner of your eye, watching his breath catch as his eyes are bound to where your lips touch his skin. 

You wonder if he is so flushed because he is remembering how you said physical love was like prayer.  Hearing your words now, seeing and feeling your kiss, he seems to stop breathing entirely. 

“And in such a case as that,” you say, “I believe I would like at least once more night to pray for answers.” 

You open your hand and reveal the phial.  His gaze drops.  His eyebrows leap comically high as he looks between you and the bottle. 

He snatches it, looking at the treeline, then whispering so frantically that his voice breaks again, “Is that poison? Where in the name of all the gods did you get poison?”

You cup his face with both hands, laughing helplessly at his expression.  You stroke your thumbs across his cheeks and it lessens his panic. 

“It’s not poison,” you whisper.  “It’s just a sleeping draft.”

“A sleeping draft,” he says, words a little slurred as his cheeks are squished in your hands.  He looks down at the phial again, then at you.  “Well,” he says and gets to his feet.  He adjusts his sword belt, swishes the length of his robe and clears his throat.  “You could have opened with that,” he says. 

You are laughing as he helps you to your feet. 

-

Thanks to your friend’s sleeping draft and Jisung’s help, you escape the king unscathed for another night. 

Jisung completes his task in the only way Han Jisung would and could: with a great deal of theatricality. 

The sun is nearly set and everyone is gathered around the fire pits.  The king is with his inner circle, guarded by Changbin.  After changing into a clean dress, you sit with the remaining kingsguards.  The meal is simple, meat cooked in a spicy broth.  Apparently, esteemed kingsguard leader Bang Chan is tragically intolerant towards heavy spice, a fact you learn because the others relentlessly tease him. 

It makes him crack a smile, the first one all day.  He has charmingly deep dimples when he lets himself go.   You are sitting beside him and the sight delights you. 

In the midst of comforting food and friendly laughter, Chan looks at you.  While the others are rowdy and distracted, he takes a moment to say, “I’ll guard the king’s tent tonight,” he says.  “Find me, yeah?  If you need… anything.” 

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely touched.

His chivalry will not be required, however.  Moments after he says that, the king starts screaming. 

“You incompetent mongrel!” he shouts, clear across the campsite, scaring another pair of birds. 

The kingsguards are quickly on their feet, food and jibes forgotten. 

You stay sitting, slurping your soup.

“Your Holy Majesty, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, a thousand times sorry,” Jisung says to the king. 

You glance over there, watching as Jisung alternates between bowing and scooping up the bits of meat that splattered on the ground when he knocked over the king’s bowl of soup. 

When Jisung told you he would take care of administering the sleeping draft, he did not tell you his plan, maybe assuming you would not like it.  You cannot honestly say you are happy to see him intentionally drawing the king’s anger, but it is certainly a fair strategy.  The king is too surrounded to truly sneak up on him.  He is, however, very easy to antagonize.    

Jisung tries to hold out a dirty piece of meat as offering.  The king slaps it out of his hand.  Jisung looks at it with dramatically wide eyes.

“I swear to the gods, kingsguard—” the king says, raising his hand as if to strike Jisung.

Jisung bows again, holding up his hands in supplication. 

“I apologize, your Holiness,” he says, bowing some more as he grabs the king’s empty bowl.  He remains bent over while scampering around.  “It was an accident.  I’ll get you more food.  Forgive me, sire, I’m a worthless dog, I’m a flea on a dog, I’m a flea on a flea—”

The king kicks at him as Jisung scampers off to get more soup.   The other kingsguards sit back down, either laughing at the nonsense of shaking their heads, chalking it up to Jisung being a little clumsy and silly. 

You slurp some more soup. 

The king only makes it halfway through his meal before he falls asleep.  The remainder of his soup splashes onto the ground when the bowl falls out of his lap, so fortunately no one else ingests it.  

No one seems bothered by the peculiarity of his sudden slumber.   This seems to a combination of acknowledging the day was very exhausting, but also sighing with some relief that there is no more yelling. 

Chan, Changbin, and Minho carry the king back to his tent where he shall sleep alone, and where you shall not be visiting any time soon.  

Seungmin is assigned the first shift to guard your tent, but Jisung escorts you while Seungmin is still finishing his meal.  You and Jisung walk side by side, saying nothing suspicious or untoward.  Nothing beyond his wink and your smile, at least. 

“Was the king this bad on the journey over?” you ask while Jisung unties the clasps of your tent. 

“Almost worse,” Jisung admits.  “He doesn’t like travelling.  And you already know he wasn’t, um, happy with the wedding, heh.  Now everything with Felix—”

“Right,” you say, watching as the last clasp comes undone.  “I suppose an affair can change a man.”

Jisung laughs, though it is more of an exhale. 

“So I’ve heard,” he says.  

The tent opens.  There is a lit lantern inside, brightening the night with golden warmth.  The interior is simple, though marginally more comfortable than the average tent. It is tall enough you can walk around without ducking. The ground is neatly covered, a thick bedroll unfurled in the middle of the space.  It looks as inviting as it can be, blankets draped across the long cushion, a pillow at the head.  One of your smaller trunks is in the room.  There is a low table and a cushion beneath it, a tea pot and cup in wait.  The lantern sits on the ground, near the bed. 

You look at each other. 

It would require only a step, out of the darkness and into the light, and he could kiss you again.  Only a step, yet a serious one with real ramifications. 

Despite all that, you want him as you have never wanted anything before.  You want him so much that you learned how to want.   Before him, you were numb but content.  Now you feel every prickling tingle of a hair standing on edge, the anticipation twisting inside you, and the flush of heat that moves through you when his eyes move to your lips. 

“I—” he starts and never finishes.

You can see the complicated gears and cogs spinning in his head.  You think of him on his knees before you, kissing your hands, shaking with desperation.  Every kiss is both a gift and a surrendering, the forging of a serious vow in the breaking of another.  You want him, but not in the way a king wants his kingdom, not with a selfish and possessive cruelty, not with a command. 

“I enjoy your company,” you say.  “When Seungmin takes his post, would you play some music for me?  It would make me happy.” 

He releases a breath, laughter spilling out of him. 

“Yes,” he says, smiling at you.  “Yes, that would make me happy too.” 

Jisung stands guard until Seungmin arrives, then he leaves to fetch his guitar.  You dress down for the evening, removing your layers and letting your curls loose.  You sit on the bedroll in nothing but your shift.  It goes without saying that it does a better job of modesty when it is dry.  The recollection of Jisung’s staring makes your cheeks feel hot. 

You are smiling down at your embroidery when he returns.  There is only a brief conversation between him and Seungmin, the latter somewhat perplexed by his presence. It is not inappropriate for a kingsguard to guard the royal personage from inside the tent, but it has not been deemed necessary, nor has Jisung been posted. 

Jisung lets the guitar does most of the talking.  It is very persuasive.

Moments later, Jisung is inside the tent, lacing it closed again, the guitar on his back.  Somehow, the lacing of the tent ties feel even sturdier than a lock.  It would take a long time for someone to undo it, making it nearly impossible to sneak up on you. 

Though, you suspect it would also take you a long time to become conscious of the real world.  Jisung is not kissing you, not even touching you, just moving inside the same small space as you, and you are already distractingly rivetted. 

So distracted, you poke your finger on a needle.  You put your finger in your mouth to catch and wipe the tiny pinprick of blood, looking at Jisung as he sits down.  He does not sit on the bedroll, just beside it on the ground. 

His eyes flick to your mouth, his face a little flushed. 

“Ha-ha,” he speaks it more than laughs it.  “Right.  Music.  Um.” 

The first strum of the guitar feels very loud in this small space, making your heart jump.  The alarm slows to a gradual stop as you let the music surround you, the gentle plucking of each string.  He hums softly until you are visibly comfortable with the sound, then he starts to sing too. 

He starts with a familiar ballad, famous enough it reached your land at the borders.  The next song you do not know, but he has hummed snippets here and there over the past couple days.  The third song is about you, though it takes a second to realize it.  Your eyes are on your embroidery, knotting little loops of cherry blossom petals, when you realize the ‘mermaid in white with curly hair’ who has ‘wanting eyes for the soldier on the shore’ is maybe not so distant or fantastical as the lyrics might imply. 

You look at him, flicking your gaze to the sealed tent flap as if to remind him that others can hear.  He grins innocently and keeps singing, your story hidden in the details of some fictional recreation.  

Hearing his interpretation of your supposed thoughts makes you laugh, as he is often doing everything to make you laugh.  Hearing the thoughts of the soldier on the shore stirs rather differently, heart palpitating as he sings about longing and terror.  Both those feelings seem to torment the soldier, a man equal parts integrity, desire, and fear. 

The lyrics trail off though he keeps strumming the guitar.  You suppose the story is not yet finished. 

The melody changes a little.  He hums to chase it, perhaps crafting another song in his mind. 

You look at your cherry blossoms, listening to him, remembering the first time he sang to you.  He had never even spoken to you.  You did not know him at all.  You were alone and miserable, sulking in the dark, and he jumped into the light and touched you with his music. 

It feels like so much has changed, even while technically nothing has.  You are still married to the king.  You have both sworn oaths. 

His music still touches you.

Your vision blurs, then the first teardrop plunks onto a cherry blossom.  He notices immediately, just like he was the only one to see your tears at the ceremony.  The music comes to an abrupt stop, a suspended note awkwardly fractured.  He puts the guitar aside and gets on his knees, leaning over your embroidery to lift your face. 

You sniffle, smiling at him through your tears. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “I’m not even crying because of the sad things.” 

“That’s okay,” he says, his face as morose.  He tries to smile softly, though his brow is still pinched with concern.  “You can cry,” he says.  “If it will make you feel better.” 

Yes, you think it will.  You have too long repressed feeling.  You are allowed to be angry and passionate and sad.  Crying and raging will not necessarily solve all your problems, but it will empty the clutter of your mind and soul. 

You let it wash away, then you let him wipe your eyes. 

“Thank you,” you say, wiping the last teardrop as he sits back. 

He picks up his guitar, though he just looks at it, running his hand along the neck while you tidy up your embroidery tools.  He looks from his art to yours, blinking at the cherry blossoms. 

“What are you making?” he asks. 

“Just bits and pieces, really,” you say.  “Spring is my favourite season.  It’s beautiful back home, with the blossoms and warm rain showers.  Everything sparkles all the time.”  

If you had not already cried, thinking of home might have done it.   Now, you just sniffle and lay the fabric down.  You smile at him. 

“What’s your favourite season?” you ask.

“Mine?”  His eyebrows lift.  His mouth is open as he looks for an answer, then he glances at your embroidery and laughs.  “Spring,” he says.

You swat his arm and he playfully howls, clutching it. 

“You can’t just say that because it’s mine,” you say. 

“Why not?” he asks, laughing. 

“Because!” 

“All right, all right,” he says.  He taps his chin with great contemplation.  “Autumn?  No, no, it’s gross in the capital then.  The rain doesn’t sparkle there, not in the fall.  It sort of just – pings.”  He makes a high-pitched sound on the word, miming each droplet as it tumbles and rings out.  “Let’s see then – it’s not autumn and spring is forbidden to me.  Ah, winter?  No.  No.  Guard duty in the winter is the worst.  Oops, I’m not supposed to say that – of course being a kingsguard is a blessing, and I can’t wait to experience the next winter, Amen.”  He opens his palms and pretends to pray, then bows his head before continuing.  “So it’s not those.  Then, ah, let me think.  What’s left? Hmmm…” 

You are already giggling when he leans towards you, grinning.

“Remind me,” he says.  “What’s left?”

“Summer, of course,” you say. 

“Ah, of course.  Let’s think.  It’s hot, muggy, and the rain doesn’t help either of those things.  Everything feels a bit like soup.  But…” 

“But…?”  You lean towards him as well, playfully eager, like this is the most important secret he could reveal.

“But,” he says, eyes dropping momentarily to your smile, then lifting again.  They crinkle with his own gentle grin, drawing your eyes there as well.  “That’s when we met,” he says. 

You look from his mouth to his eyes.  The joining of your gazes makes everything feel very quiet, slow, and warm.  Nothing exists past the golden light beside you. 

“It is,” you say. 

“Yes,” he says.  “Summer.  I think I used to hate it.  I think – I’ll never hate it again.” 

“That’s funny,” you say. “I feel the same way.”

“Well, you can’t,” he says, abruptly teasing again, “Because that’s my favourite, and you can’t just pick it because I did.” 

You laugh, but it catches you off guard so it is a rather ugly laugh, more of a snort.  Your hand flies up to cover your mouth.  He laughs at that sound more than anyting, though he tries to stifle it. 

You swat each other, trying and failing to keep the laughter down.  A kingsguard keeping watch, a bard playing music, that is one thing.  Giggling with the queen is a little different.   

He accidentally pokes himself on your needle.  It is laying between you, forgotten, and he puts his hand down.  He hisses as he lifts it, grimacing like he was run through with a sword rather than pinpricked with a sewing needle. 

“Oh my goodness,” you say, shaking your head with playful irritation.  You gather your embroidery things and place them out of reach so there are no more accidents.  “Silly,” you say.  “Big strong guard, you are.  It couldn’t have hurt that much.”

“It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt,” he says with dramatically sad eyes and a spectacular pout. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say, taking his hand.  It is not even bleeding.  Still, you bring it to your mouth. 

You do not intend to be seductive.  You are truly just playing, intending to wet his finger against your lips and tease him some more.  The moment your lips touch his skin, however, the whole energy inside the tent seems to shift.  If you did not know better, you would say the earth itself tilted.  You stomach drops with a swoop, as if you took off flying. 

You look at him while taking the tip of his finger in your mouth.  His smile vanishes too, those dark eyes suddenly smouldering in the lamplight.  Your heart is pounding so hard that it wakes up the rest of your body.  When you kiss that fingertip again, moving your mouth, making no mistake of its deliberateness, your heart seems to plummet as well.  It drops right between your legs when it continues to pound, sending heat in every direction, so stark and sure that it makes you want to double over. 

“Jisung,” you say, your lips a little wet. 

He does not have far to go, cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.  You clasp his shoulders, closing your eyes and kissing him back.  You definitely would not notice an intruder, nor even a fire, not even a god walking the earth.  You lose yourself completely, even more than those precious kisses from before.  Maybe it is knowing you are truly alone, that the king is out cold, that it is nighttime and you are in your shift and he is right here, and it would be so easy to lay down and—

“I—”  He abruptly breaks the kiss.  He still looks lost in it, eyes half-open, face tinged with a blush.  He pushes his fingers through his hair, shaking his head like that will pull him out of it. 

He looks at you, then your mouth, and falls right back in.  His eyes close like it is a little painful, and he groans when he kisses you, like it is rearranging him.   He cups your face with both hands and guides the kiss, opening his mouth, inexpertly but hungrily.  You follow, just as inexpertly but just as passionately.  You make a sound of your own, higher and lighter, sweet in the kiss as he licks into your open mouth. 

He is affected, either by the sound or your taste or your tongue against his.  He pulls back again, with a shuddering gasp, like he forgot to breathe the whole time.  You think you forgot too, breathing much harder than before. 

“I—I’m so—”  he says, forcing himself to look away.  He stares down at the lantern.  His eyes look a little wet, verging on tears as well.  He rubs his face, pushes his hand into his hair and keeps it there, the dark locks messy around his fingers. 

“Jisung,” you whisper his name, touching his shoulder, then his face.  “Jisung, I know.  This is – this is all crazy.”  He looks at you, eyes still sad, hand still shoved in his hair.  “I know,” you say.  “You’re not alone.  I know this is complicated.”  You stammer, tripping over your racing heart.  You cup his face and stroke his cheek.  “I’m not asking for anything but what you want to give me.”

“I know,” he whispers.  “I’m not scared of you.  I’m scared of me.  Of what I want to give.  It would be—”  He finally lets go of his hair.  It takes a second to fall back into place after being pushed for so long, falling messily across his forehead.  “It would be easier,” he says again, “if I didn’t want to, at all.  But I—” 

It is certainly easier for him to speak in song.  He conveyed so much as a soldier on the shore, longing and terror in equal parts.  Yes, that is all over his face as he looks at you, even if he cannot articulate it like this.  He just breathes, in and out.  He tilts his head and looks at you.  He is right, that this would all be easier if that expression was not so tender and loving. 

“What about you?” he asks.  “What do – what do you want to – give?” 

“Jisung,” you say, almost laughing, because isn’t it obvious?  “I want to give you everything.”

You thought that was so obvious, but his look says otherwise, that he is surprised and taken back and overcome. 

“I believe,” you say, “that even though we are surrounded by danger, my heart and my body would be truly safe with you.”

“Oh,” he says.  He gazes back at you for a time, then he looks down.  He takes your hand.  His eyes closed, he brings it to his mouth and kisses your palm.  He holds it to his face after, eyes still closed, clearly thinking very hard.  When he straightens, he says, “It is.  But when it comes to me, I—”  He laughs without much humour, looking at you, his expression rather withering and his tone self-deprecating.  “I think I’m broken beyond help.  I think I always have been.  I don’t even have a good reason why.  I just know I feel worthless if I don’t cling to the other vow that has ever meant anything and you – and I – and—”

“You’re safe with me too,” you say gently.  “Whatever that looks like, Jisung.  Whether you think it’s broken or not, I’ll take care of it all.” 

He nods, sharp and quick.  He rests his forehead against yours.  You close your eyes and stay there for a time, just breathing until your racing hearts are under control again.  He kisses your forehead before standing.  You stand as well, mostly to see that your legs still work, everything fuzzy after all that. 

He picks up his guitar and goes to the tent entrance.  He unlaces it carefully, then looks at you before parting it.  His expression is fond, his mouth open with some parting words, but his eyes widen and he swallows whatever gentle words were on his lips.  You look over your shoulder, wondering what surprised him, but there is nothing there.

“What is it?” you ask, smiling when he does. 

“Ah, uh, you—”  He points behind you with the guitar.  There is still nothing there.  When you lift an eyebrow at him, he giggles.  “Um, the light,” he says.  “Behind you – it, um.” 

Oh.  The lantern is shining right through your thin white shift.  Perhaps it is not reliable for modesty, even when dry, turning almost invisible as it reveals the shape of everything beneath the fabric. 

“Well,” you say, brushing the material out.  “I suppose it’s nothing you haven’t seen.” 

“Yes,” he says, breathlessly.  His eyes move down your body and up again.  It is such a thorough, thinking regard, that you think he might be changing his mind.  Then he swallows, closes his eyes, bows his head.  He departs without another word. 

You do not listen to hear if he and Seungmin speak some more.  You douse the lantern and climb under your blankets.  You thought you had tempered yourself, but that last look was hungrier and more powerful than a kiss.  With the image of him so fresh and clear in your mind, and with the tent securely laced shut again, you slide a hand beneath the covers and whisper his name again and again. 

-

You wake in the middle of the night.  You do not know what time, but it is nowhere near daylight, the world in darkness all around the tent.  You went to sleep to some bustling noise in the camp, but now it is silent, so you believe it is many hours later.

Your eyes adjust to the midnight blue, making out the shape of your table and trunk, the unlit lantern.   The only light is outside the tent, the guard posted with a lantern of his own.   He is holding it in the air so you can see his silhouette. 

Two silhouettes. 

It takes a moment for your groggy mind to catch up, but it does, and you realize there is a hushed argument happening on the other side of the tent.  You realize you are also right about the hour, because it is late enough that there was a guard change.  That is not Seungmin’s voice or silhouette outside the tent, but Minho.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Minho whispers, in obvious agitation.  “She’s sleeping.  Why would I let you into the queen’s tent?”

“I just want to see her.”  That voice is unmistakably Jisung.  You would recognize his voice anywhere.  Your heart wakes up faster than your mind, skipping beats. 

“In the middle of the night?”  Minho asks.  “Are you crazy?”

“Yes!” Jisung whispers back, with a high-pitched strain.  “I am!  Now let me see her!” 

“What kind of argument is that?” Minho asks. 

“I just—”  Jisung sighs.  You watch his silhouette, his hands moving through the air as he gestures at nothing.  “I’ve been thinking—”

“I get that’s new for you,” Minho says dryly, “But the queen can be alerted to this miracle tomorrow.”

“And I just need to see her,” Jisung finishes.  “Because – because I only have half my thoughts when I’m not with her.  Like the world is only half full and I’m only—”  He jabs his chest, exhales heavily.  “Only half whole.” 

The lantern lowers slightly, Minho seemingly losing power as his arm lowers. 

“Please,” Jisung says.  “I’m just going to talk to her.  I’ll be fast.  She won’t mind.  The king will be passed out until noon at least.  This is just – I need to see her.”

“I hate you,” Minho says.  “If I hear even one disgruntled squeak from her, I’m considering it permission to kill you for being a nuisance.”

“I can’t wait to haunt you forever,” Jisung says, clapping him on the shoulder with a friendly pat.

Minho shrugs him off.  The lantern swings away as Minho stalks back to his post.  He plunks the light on the ground. 

You can no longer see his silhouette, but you can hear as the tent unlaces.  Each slip of a tie has your heartbeat skipping.  You prop yourself up your elbows, watching slivers of moonlight slip into the tent.  Eventually the tent is undone enough that Jisung can step inside, then he grumbles and swears to himself as he tries to lace it back up again.

You sit all the way upright but he evidently does not see you.  At first, he is preoccupied with the laces.  Then, once the tent is secure, he turns around.  Your eyes are adjusted to the darkness so you see him perfectly, but his are not adjusted, and he evidently has no idea you are awake and upright and staring at him.

He seems to go through a myriad of emotions, his face an entire theatrical spectacle in the span of thirty seconds.  Then he curses and turns around and reaches for the laces, having seemingly lost all his nerves, intent on departing again. 

“Jisung?” you say.

It makes him jump, shoulders leaping.  He slowly turns around to face you.  He still does not see you properly, squinting through the dark, but you think your general shape is taking form.  He faces the correct angle, at least. 

“Um, yes?” he asks. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask. 

“Oh, that,” he says.  “Right. Um.  You see.  I was thinking about everything you said.  And everything I said.  And did.  And we did.  And he said and he did, the king I mean.  And I was just – I was thinking – what I mean is.”  He clasps his hands together and punctuates his words with a pointed gesture.  “The. reason. I. am. here.” 

He lets his arms fall to his side.  You think he can see you much better now, because his eyes finally find yours. 

He should be a terrifying figure in the dark, all long dark robes with a shiny sword at his hip.  But you are not scared.  His hands are the ones shaking, his eyes wide.  

“Yes?” you say softly, encouraging. 

He takes a step forward.  His hand rests on the hilt of his sword out of habit, no doubt a consolation to his nerves.  He looks down at it, seems to contemplate it like it has answers, or maybe just more questions.  Eventually, he reaches into his robes and undoes the sword belt.  You watch with baited breath as the sword falls into his hand. 

He crouches down, laying the sword on the ground.  On one knee, looking at the sword, then looking at you, he unclasps the top layer of his robes. 

“I think,” he says, “I’m here to pray.”

You are quickly out of the covers, crawling down the bedroll towards him.  He drops his other knee so he is kneeling upright at the foot of your bed, his robes open to the dark layer underneath, his chest rising and falling as quickly as his heart must be racing. 

You get up on your knees too, hands floating between you as you take a second to just look at each other.  His mouth is open like he has more to say, but he never finds the words.  You think there might be words, but they have all been said, and they are better encapsulated in a kiss. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in.  His hands find your waist, at first with the chivalrous touch of a guard, as he has been holding your waist and hips when he helps you from here to there.  Then the kiss deepens, your eyes close.  His tongue pushes against yours and his hands are searching, squeezing, feeling the shape of every curve under his palm. 

He says your name, not your title, your shift messily gathered in his fists.  He kisses you softly, just a peck, then another, then those kisses move across your face and down your neck.  You sink your fingers into his hair, holding him there as he kisses a long, hot kiss against your throat.  You feel it all the way down between your thighs, liquid heat and a pounding need.  You scratch  at his scalp as his open mouth moves across your skin and he moans.

“Shh,” you say gently, his voice softening against your neck, just a light sound as he licks the place he kissed. 

You want to tear the robe off his body, but you don’t want to startle him, his hands already shaking where they move over your clothed body.  You decide to go first, already more comfortable with it. 

You always thought disrobing for a lover would be petrifying, aghast at the thought of ever baring yourself to a husband.  Well, perhaps that last part is still true.  But it is not difficult to share yourself with Jisung.  You like the way he looks at you, like he is writing songs of worship in his head. 

You lean back, breathing hard, smiling at his face.  He looks flushed and messy, his lips wet.  He blinks at you, though his gaze lowers when you gather the hem of your shift and lift.  His mouth is hanging open when you toss it to the side. 

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me before,” you whisper, laughing lightly. 

“That was different,” he says.  “I couldn’t really look.  I tried not to look.  I knew if I did, I’d want to touch you.  I tried to pray instead.  But I can’t hear the gods when you’re not near me.  Now—”  His hand moves up your naked side, skimming your curves, his eyes following the trail.  He swipes his thumb across your breast and your back arches into him.  “Now,” he says again, dipping his head, “I know where I was made to be.”

His mouth closes around the tip of your breast, already pert from stimulation, hardening further between his lips.  He sweeps his tongue across your skin, moves to the other side.  His hands move everywhere, up and down. 

Before long, you are moving, laying on your back.  He tears off his outer robe and leaves it on the ground, following you down.  You will not push him for more, knowing already how much he is giving you, though one day you want to feel every inch of him, skin to skin.  It will happen, you decide.  One day, you will be in a bed, and there will be time, and you will never be done exploring. 

He lets your put your hand under his shirt, scratching down his spine.  His arms are bare so you squeeze those too.  Your legs part to make room for his hips.  You are kissing and you make a sound in each other’s mouths when he lowers his hips against you.  You can feel him through the material of his trousers, like you could that other night.  But where he ran away that night, ignoring his own feelings, this time he lets your hand wander down.  When you cup the hard shape of him in your palm, it makes your breath catch in an uneven stutter. 

“Jisung,” you whisper, arching against him when he says your name back. 

“Yes,” he says, pushing himself upright with shaking arms.  He kneels between your open legs, pushing his hair back, swallowing as he looks down.  His mouth moves but he doesn’t speak, though he does make a garbled noise when running his hands along the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

That skin is very sensitive.  You are already jumping by the time his hand is on you.  You have to cover your mouth.  No amount of touching yourself could prepare you for his touch, his fingers rougher and calloused both from his sword and his guitar. 

You are very wet, from earlier, from seconds ago.  He makes a face like he can feel the pleasure too, even though it his fingers, rubbing through all that wetness.   He finds that place he showed you, that he talked about, as adept with the instrument of your body as he is with any other tool he puts in his hands.  Just as he is always determined to make you laugh, he is now determined to give you that burst of pleasure.   He grips your thigh in one strong hand and deftly moves his other thumb around and around that small centre of pleasure. 

You twitch in his grip, still gasping with those short, stunted breaths.  You can keep your voice down on your own, but it requires more concentration now, swallowing those sounds as that pleasure breaks apart inside you.  Your hips lift, chasing his touch, then drop in shy retreat, oversensitive. 

He grips both thighs, squeezing the soft flesh, then runs his fingertips back to their centre, then up, up the curve of your chest, touching your open mouth.  You take his fingers in your mouth, nothing like before, which was playful then uncertain and demure.  You take them like you want to take everything, deep and wet and needy, moving your head, sucking them hard between your lips until he has to cover his own mouth to stop himself from being loud. 

He takes his hand back.  The other drops from his mouth.  You look at each other, hearts racing.   His hands are shaking again as he reaches for the ties of his trousers, fumbling more than a little. 

You sit up to help.  With him kneeling upright, it puts your face at a rather advantageous position.  His fingers get even more clumsy until he is no help at all, leaving it to you to unlace. 

You look up at him, holding his gaze.  This is certainly not the wedding night you were ever prepared to participate in.  You were instructed to lay back and wait, then it would happen and be over.   That could not be more different than your searching hands, eager to feel him, your eyes on any sliver of skin he shows you. 

Once the trousers are unlaced, there is little hiding, the fabric falling open and everything inside lifting up.  Truthfully, you are nervous again too, but also emboldened with passionate wanting.  You are aware you are about to do something that cannot be reversed in the eyes of the law. 

I’m the queen, you think.  I make my own law.

You touch him as he lays you back down.  When you are on your back, you lay your hands at your sides, your legs open around him, hair spread out underneath you. 

He pushes his trousers down his hips.  He looks into your face for as long as he can, but he eventually needs to look down.  He curses to himself as he is a little clumsy again, trying to guide himself to your entrance.  He finds it, but your body is a little resistant even though you are so wet.  You wince a little, but shake your head when he stops, telling him to keep going, please, please, please. 

You can only imagine how painful this would have been with the king.  Well, that man will never be your first, no matter what he tries in future.  It will always be Han Jisung, slowly pushing inside you, his sweaty face buried in your neck, murmuring your name as he fills you to utter completion. 

You almost cry when he is all the way inside you, not even from the tenderness, but just the rightness.  You cling to him, sliding a hand down the back of his shirt.  He rocks his hips a little, kissing your neck when you whimper. 

“It’s okay,” he says, lifting his face to look at you.  He kisses your lips, a few short pecks that leave you wanting more.  He stares down into your face like he can hardly believe you are real.  “I have you,” he says.  “I have you.” 

He knows how to listen beyond words, hearing every cry and request of your body, even if you cannot articulate it.  He is careful until that tender burn lessens, careful for his own sake too, muttering the occasional oath when you squeeze around him.  it soon really does sound like praying with how often he calls the gods and you. 

You kiss him, moaning into his mouth, probably clawing up his shoulders as he starts to understand how to roll his hips.  Those scratches won’t matter because he’s a kingsguard and he will be completely covered tomorrow.  Only you will know his back is a canvas of your pleasure, fingers bruising and nails raking desperately as he takes you, deeply, thoroughly. 

“I’m – I can’t – inside,” he says between breaths, face scrunched up as he nears his pleasure. 

“I know,” you say, but whimper helplessly.  “One day.” 

That makes him moan deeply, a sharp thrust into you, then he is quickly pulling out.  It just takes a single stroke from his hand before he finishes too.   It is more than you knew it would be, a white streak that falls across the soft skin of your belly.  It takes a second for the sight to register for him, then he squeaks and grabs his robe again. 

Cleaning that off the queen is almost certainly not the intended use of the kingsguard robes, but it makes the most sense, as he is more likely to be able to clean it without any questions.  Still, he seems to realize just how sacrilegious it is, looking at the black fabric, then at you. 

Then, he smiles.  It turns to a short laugh, a sound of disbelief. 

“We—” he says. 

“Yes,” you say, giggling too. 

You are not sure if he is more amazed with you or himself.  It certainly takes him a moment to stop looking so shocked, even though he was the one who walked in here.  Eventually, he comes to his senses, at least enough to lay down in your arms for a time. 

He can’t sleep here, but you hold him for a while and he is happy to let you, his head pillowed on the softness of your breasts, his arms around your middle.   He turns his face and kisses your skin, just a chaste kiss, but there is a fire simmering beneath your skin now, and you fear it will never be doused. 

You sit up together.  You kiss his bare arm, right up to where the shoulder of his shirt gets in the way.  He looks at you, appreciative, fond, and a little less scared. 

“We need to be careful,” he says. 

“Of course,” you say.

“I can’t let anything happen to you,” he says, cupping your face.  He brings it close to his, your noses touching. 

“I know you won’t,” you say.  “I’m safe in your hands, bard boy.” 

He laughs, then steals one final kiss.  He doesn’t put the outer robe back on, giving you a chagrined smile while you giggle.  You shuffle back into your shift while he stands up and re-ties his trousers.  He smooths his hair as best he can.  He hooks his swordbelt into place.

He looks somewhat more composed, but not entirely untouched.  You wonder if you look like that, if it’s all over your face, in the lines of your body.  You can certainly feel it inside, both literally with the ache between your thighs, and also emotionally. 

He unlaces the tent and looks at you again, gives you one last departing smile before he steps out. 

He has barely laced the tent shut before the lantern re-appears.  You catch Minho’s silhouette, his hand swinging down to swat Jisung hard on the backside.

“Ouch!” Jisung jumps.

“That was not talking, you asshole,” Minho hisses. 

Jisung, in much better spirits than his friend, simply plants a kiss on the other guard’s cheek and ruffles his hair.  Even in silhouette form, Minho is clearly shocked by this.  It takes him too long to retaliate, left standing there as Jisung skips away.

Minho shakes his head.

Smiling, you lay down to sleep, safe for tonight.  With your growing allies, you are confident will you find a way to remain so.   

[orimuraa]

꒰♡꒱ Dear. My darling - OT7

(synopsis) ༊*·˚ it was so painful for enhypen not to miss youೄྀ

ot7 enhypen x fem!reader ༊*·˚ HEAVY angst ༊*·˚ main character death ༊*·˚ enha dealing with your death ༊*·˚ death, crying, mentions of sickness ༊*·˚ wc 1.8k

jiji’s note: i’m so sorry for the heart wrenching angst. i’m in a mood rn and this is what came out of it. pls do not read if you have trouble reading about loss of a loved one. if you are struggling with something like this, my inbox is always open <3

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

wow. you were really gone. it’s been weeks since you left this cruel world and heeseung hasn’t been able to realize that you really were gone. you didn’t deserve to leave. you were the purest person on this earth and heeseung was the luckiest man on earth to have you. you were so, so, so strong up until your final breath. you had fought so hard to stay awake everyday and heeseung was right there with you on your hospital bedside. you had asked him, “when i leave, promise me that you won’t miss me too much okay?” and he wanted to promise you that and so much more. that it would be okay. that you would make it out well and healthy. but you both knew that that was just a fantasy too far out of reach. the doctors had told you and heeseung that your condition had only gotten worse and your days were limited now. heeseung took a whole month off of work just so he could stay by your side every minute of the grueling days. the sound of your labored breathing was like a stab to his heart each time he heard it. your were in so much pain and he couldn’t do anything to fix it.

the day you left him, a part of soul left him as well. you were his everything. he treasured you so greatly and to think that he wouldn’t be able to see you anymore hurt like hell. he hadn’t realized he was crying until he felt his tears drip onto his pants. how could he keep his promise to you when all he could think of was just missing everything about you? but he was determined to live till the day that you and him would be able to reunite with each other without any pain or care in the world. he knew that you were doing so much better now that you were free of your pain and that you would always be with him. always.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

it took a long three days for jay to finally realize that you were gone and that you weren’t coming back. the world had been so cruel to you and it resulted in you having to stay in the dreaded hospital for your last days on this earth. the hospital was the place you had despised most. knowing fully well that your illness was incurable, you had told jay, “promise me you won’t be too sad” how could he not? the love of his life was bound to this hospital bed and the life in your eyes was slowly fading away. the bright smile you always wore had become a rare sight nowadays and jay’s heart was shattering with each and every awful day that passed. on a cold afternoon, you took your final breath on this world with your loving boyfriend right by your side, whispering how he would find you in every lifetime just to be with you again.

jay didn’t know how long he cried for but what he did know was that his tears couldn’t bring you back. he knew it was selfish of him to wish that you were somehow still alive knowing that you were probably free of any pain you were in when you were on earth. he hated how he couldn’t keep his promise with you. he hated how you wouldn’t be there to brighten up his world anymore. when you left, you took jay’s soul away with you. you were his everything. how could he live without you?

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

jake dreaded every passing day, knowing that your condition was only getting weaker and weaker. a couple months ago, you were diagnosed with an illness that was incurable. that was jake’s worst day of his life. now, in the final days of your life, he was here with you, right beside your bed. he made sure that your hospital room looked nice and neat just the way you like it and he never left you alone. everyday, you would tell him just a little bit more how much you loved him. he knew the reason. he knew it was all because you were slowly fading away. he could see it in the way your eyes never twinkled anymore, and the way your smile was never quite full. every little word that came out of your mouth was filled with so much pain. he also knew that the best thing for you was to just be able to rest. to be free of this cruel and awful world that had cursed you, the purest of angels. you deserved nothing like this, yet look where you were now. stuck to a hospital bed, slowly and painfully losing your life.

the day you let go, jake couldn’t accept the fact that you were gone. his friends had to come and pick him up from the hospital just for him to attempt to run back in, saying you needed him next to you. the truth was, he needed you next to him. he cried himself to sleep every night since that day, missing you more and more as the time went by. jake knew that you wouldn’t have wanted him to be this miserable. he could just imagine you wiping his tears for him and telling him not to cry too much for you. but how could he not when his light in this dark world just went out? he couldn’t bear thinking of what life would be like without you. he just couldn’t.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

sunghoon felt like his heart was just ripped out. seeing you take your last breath in that god awful hospital room was so heartbreaking for him to witness. the way your eyes had so much pain in them but the smile you tried to put on for him is something he could never ever forget. why did you have to be cursed by this world? why was it always the purest of people? you were nothing but an angel to this world yet you still got sick, limiting your time with sunghoon.

exactly a month after your death, sunghoon wrote a letter to you. he wrote it because he wasn’t sure how else to cope on this day. he wanted to let you know that he was trying so hard to be strong for you, but it hurt so bad. he missed you so much. the way your eyes would crinkle into little crescents when you smiled, and your warm, infectious laugh, he would never be able to experience this ever again. he held so much guilt in his heart for not being able to keep your promise to him. he promised to you that he would try his hardest to move on just like you wanted for him, but he just couldn’t. he didn’t know how to cope with anything at the moment and he certainly had no plans of moving on. he just couldn’t keep his promise.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

seeing your brightness slowly fade into darkness was sunoo’s nightmare. he hated how he had to watch the brightest person ever slowly get consumed by the dark. your illness was a mystery to the doctors and it had been a surprise. it happened so suddenly and sunoo had no idea how to handle it. he stayed with you everyday and made sure that your were never alone, knowing deep down that these were probably his last moments with you. on the day of your passing, sunoo cried and cried and cried. he felt so helpless and heartbroken that he was afraid he would never do anything else in his life except cry. cry for you. you would’ve never wanted him to be this devastated but it was something you couldn’t control. he knew that if you ever saw him now, you would break down at the sight. he was a wreck since you left him. he wasn’t sure how to move on or just move to the next step from there. a part of his soul died the same day you did, leaving him with half a soul, and a broken heart.

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

you were so young. you didn’t deserve anything that happened to you. the doctors had diagnosed you with a sickness that was limited your days on the earth after an accident you had. jungwon never left you alone and always made sure to be with you every second you were awake, savoring his last few moments with you. it was supposed to be any day now where your body would give out and jungwon would lose the one person in life who made life worth living for. before you passed, you had told him, “i want you to be happy when i’m gone. i don’t want you being stuck on me and not moving on. please promise me that” and at the time, he was willing to do whatever you wanted since it would be your last wish, but now, he hated the idea of moving on from you. there was no way he could ever let you go.

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力

having to deal with your passing at such a young age was so hard for ni-ki. you had gone down with an unknown illness and the doctors said that your days were limited now. ni-ki was with you every step of the way up until your death. he loved you so much and he just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. the day you had passed away was the hardest thing ni-ki ever had to go through. you were such a bright and bubbly person so him seeing you so lifeless and low made his heart break. you would always re-assure him that you were doing fine and just a bit tired, but ni-ki saw right through it. he knew how much you were struggling because you still had so much you wanted to accomplish in your lifetime. you and ni-ki had once shared your dreams for your futures to each other and it now pains him to realize that you would never be able to love out your dream.

a week after your passing, ni-ki and his hyungs went to go get flowers to honor you. jake had told him that maybe he just needed to write a letter of closing to you. to let you know how proud he was of you for fighting so hard for so long. he had so much he wanted to say to you but the realization that he would never be able to talk with you again really struck deep. he knew he had to recover for you, but he would never move on. he promised himself that he could never love again. he felt that he would be betraying you even if you wanted him to move on after you were gone. but god, he would miss you so much. but at least now, you were in the stars.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧

i'm sorry for the heavy angst :( it was rlly hard for me to write as it just reminded me of my grandma's passing but funny enough, i think this helped me get out some emotions i didn't know i needed to. if you're ever struggling, i want my inbox to be a safe space for everyone to just come and vent if needed. i want to be a safe space for people in need. tysm for reading everyone. feedback is very appreciated <3

[keqism]

love fool

⟡ feat. xiao

⟡ premise. charting the map of love never proved to be easy.

⟡ cw. established relationship, GN reader, xiao story spoilers, mentions of murder

To Xiao, love is difficult.

It's both intoxicating and maddening, an entity that makes his heart giddy and clouds his head, dusting his cheeks in rosy red. But to his dismay, it comes easy for you. To you, love is like breathing; the tangling of warm hands, soft lips lightly pressed against his cheek, eyes that seek his in a crowded room. The sweet smiles you send him, the casual brushes against his skin—love must flow in your blood.

Xiao once believed that such a pure emotion did not belong in his life because he would only destroy it with clawed hands and shred it into pieces like he once did millenniums ago. Even after all those years, his sins still stain his soul: the wails of a mother who watched as an unknown god ordered him to tear her child apart, the voices of the monsters he slayed every night to protect the city taunting him like the ghosts of Wuwang Hill.

And then you slipped into his life.

Or perhaps crashed was a better way to put it, accidentally tumbling from the roof of Wangshu Inn and into Xiao's lap where he was resting on the balcony below.

And suddenly love was no longer a phenomenon to be observed from afar, but a person—someone who would hide little gifts for him to find around the inn and summon him with a whisper of his name when they missed him. 

But even after all the months Xiao has spent at your side, love still feels awkward. The soft smiles he gives you are rehearsed in front of a mirror; the notes he tucks into your pocket are rewritten ten times before he gives up and prays that he said the right thing. But practicing can only do so much, and Xiao still feels like his inexperience shines through like a bright lantern on a dark night. The casual touches, shy glances—all of it makes him dizzy, sending his pulse escalating like a damn fool.

Maybe that's all he is: a fool blindly stumbling through the uncharted maze of love. 

You deserve better, he thinks on sleepless nights while you rest by his side, moonlight filtering in through the curtains to listen to his worries. You deserve to be with someone who can openly express his love, who can talk to his partner without turning beet red and stumbling through all of his words. But then you slip your fingers through his and curl into his side with a content sigh, and Xiao knows he's right where he belongs.

౨ৎ one year old wip finally out of the drafts (ㅠ﹏ㅠ) thank you for reading, reblogs & comments are always welcome !

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART IX

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). fluff. angst. cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and depression. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: here it goes. happy reading <3

masterlist!

January 26, 2023

Los Angeles, California

The ceiling isn’t even interesting, but it’s better than everything else right now. You’ve spent too many nights staring at the same spot above you, trying not to think, trying not to feel, but the thoughts always come creeping back. Anxiety’s a funny thing—how it picks and chooses moments to make your life its playground, especially when there’s nothing left to distract you.

You think about your depression diagnosis from a year ago. It feels like a dirty word, one that sticks to the inside of your throat whenever you try to talk about it.

Shame has a way of making you feel unworthy, like there’s a crack inside you that everyone can see. And Pedro…well, he was part of that too. Not because he’d judge you; no, you know he wouldn’t. That’s what makes it worse. He’d understand, and you know it. But it was that very understanding, that softness, that made you feel even less deserving of him. It was easier to push him away, tell yourself that he was better off without you, without your darkness looming overhead.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid. But knowing didn’t make it any easier. For a long time, you felt like shit. The medication and therapy helped, though. You feel better now, mostly. At least enough to move through the days without the weight of the world pressing down on your chest.

On nights like this, when the city outside your window hums with life, you find yourself longing for him. Wanting him with a kind of ache that doesn’t make sense anymore. Not after a year of silence.

Okay, not complete silence.

There were the text messages, the likes, the little online interactions that served as placeholders for the real thing. But the last time you actually heard his voice was on your birthday. He called, and it was brief. Polite. He sounded tired, maybe distant. You’d called him on his birthday, too, but he didn’t pick up. A few hours later, a text: “Sorry! Really busy over here, even on my birthday. Thanks for the birthday wishes. See you soon.”

Except “See you soon” never came. It was nothing more than etiquette.

Sarah came over a few weeks later. You were sitting on your couch, mindlessly flipping through a book, when she dropped the news. “They broke up,” she’d said, leaning against the counter like it wasn’t a bomb that just exploded in your chest. “Pedro and Julia. Months ago.”

Why didn’t he tell me?

That conversation replayed in your head for days. Maybe he hadn’t told you because you weren’t that person for him anymore. The one he turned to when things went wrong. Life just went on without him in it. The strange became familiar, and here you were, on a Saturday night, staring at nothing.

You push off the sofa, grab your phone from the coffee table, and start scrolling through social media. It’s the only thing that takes the edge off, numbing the ache for a little while. But even that was a trap because almost every post you see is about him.

Pedro was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape him.

The world had caught on to how wonderful he was, and now they all wanted a piece of him. The headlines, the photos, the fan posts—everyone seemed to wonder what it would be like to love him, to touch him. The universe was taunting you with his presence, a constant reminder of what you’d had and what you’d lost. Every time you saw his face, you felt a pang of regret, sharp and unforgiving.

February 4, 2023

New York, NY

The invitation had come a week earlier, but not from him. His sister, Lux, had sent the text. “It would be nice if you came,” she’d written, and your heart had swelled in your chest.

“I’ll try,” you’d replied, though you knew as soon as you sent it that you would go. The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to New York, staring out the window, wondering what you were doing. You hadn’t seen him in person in over a year, and you didn’t even know if he wanted to see you. What if time had passed you by? What if everything between you had faded into the background, nothing more than a memory?

The night of the show arrived, and you were a wreck. A bundle of nerves, second-guessing everything. You sat in the audience, people asking for pictures here and there, and you smiled, happily obliging. But when Pedro took the stage, your heart stopped. He was nervous during the monologue, you could tell, but he quickly settled into the rhythm.

His breathing evened out, and he was so…perfect. He talked about his family, about his mother, and you felt the lump in your throat rise when he got emotional. He was always funny in the sketches, but especially when he almost broke character to laugh. You couldn’t stop watching him.

And you hoped—no, you prayed—that maybe he’d see you through the crowd.

When the show ended, people started to disperse, and there he was, surrounded by his family, by friends, all buzzing with pride and excitement. You hung back, watching as Lux tried to get everyone lined up for a photo. “Who’s gonna take it?” someone asked, and you stepped forward before you could think twice.

“I can do it,” you said, and Lux’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh my god, you came!” She rushed over, wrapping her arms around you, and you hugged her back, feeling a sudden warmth in your chest.

Nico and Pedro’s nephews followed, pulling you into their hugs as well. For a moment, it felt like old times, like maybe things hadn’t changed at all. But then Pedro turned, his gaze catching yours, and time stopped.

You stood there, staring at each other, and the world spun and stilled all at once. His eyes lit up, soft and warm, like they always had. He looked like he wanted to say something, but neither of you moved.

Five seconds. Maybe less. But it felt like forever.

You smiled, and so did he, a quiet acknowledgment passing between you. Lux handed you her phone, and you took the picture, watching them all gather together, laughing and chatting. You could feel Pedro’s eyes on you the whole time.

After the photo, he walked over, his eyes locking onto yours again.

“How…what are you…?”

“Your sister invited me,” you replied quickly.

“Of course she did,” he said, glancing back at Lux with a smile.

“Congratulations, you were incredible,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. “I’m so happy for you.”

He looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, like you were the moon and the stars. Your heart raced, and you could feel it thumping against your ribs. He smiled, a half-smile, and his voice softened. “Thank you. I think I butchered a couple of lines, but…"

“No, no,” you insisted, shaking your head. “You were perfect. It was perfect.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, his eyes doing that thing they always did when he was holding something back. But then he cleared his throat, looking flustered. “I have to go get changed and say goodbye to a few people, but come to the afterparty, okay? Oscar and Sarah will be there.”

As if you needed a reason other than him.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, trying to sound casual.

He took a step closer, his big brown eyes fixed on you. “Thank you for being here.”

You smiled, trying to keep your composure. “Always.”

And then he turned and disappeared backstage.

•••

Later, at the afterparty, you felt like a ghost, drifting between conversations. You caught up with Oscar and Sarah, the comfort of their hugs bringing unexpected tears to your eyes. It felt good, to be surrounded by people who loved you unconditionally. But you couldn’t help yourself; you kept looking for Pedro. From across the room, your eyes would meet, and the significance of everything unsaid hung between you.

Twenty minutes passed like that. Stolen glances, quiet tension. Until you saw him slip outside to the rooftop, away from the crowd.

Without thinking, you followed him.

He stood there, looking out over the city, his broad back to you, the skyline of New York glowing in the distance. For a moment, you thought about turning around, about going back inside. But then you stepped forward, standing beside him.

“This city,” you started, “is so beautiful from up here. Makes you forget about all the bad things—like the rats and the traffic.”

He laughed—that booming, wheezing kind of laugh you loved so much—and you smiled.

Pedro smiled at you—that same familiar smile that hadn’t changed in all these years. His eyebrows lifted playfully, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. But as you looked closer, you saw it—he had changed, and yet the essence of him remained.

His hair was longer now, curling just at the ends in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it. His beard, fuller than before, had streaks of gray decorating his jawline and his hair. The lines around his eyes had deepened, like stories waiting to be told, crinkling when he smiled, as if life had both weathered and softened him.

He turned to look at you. “Hi again.”

“Hi."

“You look good,” he said, the compliment slipping from his lips with ease.

You chuckled softly. “Thanks, so do you, Mr. Popular.”

He clicked his tongue, amused. “What can I say?”

The rooftop was hushed, only the chatter and music from the party drifting up from where you stood. The world below a distant hum, leaving just the two of you bathed in the soft glow of green and gold light from the city. The air was cool but not cold, wrapping around you both in a way that felt intimate, protective.

How Deep Is Your Love started playing, and you looked towards the party, a small smile playing on your lips. As if he could read your mind, he chuckled and said, "How fitting. What are the odds?"

For the first time in what felt like forever, you were under Pedro’s gaze—not the chaotic, feverish attention you were used to, with cameras flashing and crowds screaming your name, but something deeper. His attention had always been different. It was quiet, but focused, like a steady hand on your shoulder, grounding you without a word.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. The pull between you too strong, a tether stretched thin by years of disconnect but never broken. You felt it—the weight of all that had gone unsaid pressing against your chest. You had to say it. Now, before you lost the courage.

“I was debating whether or not to do this here,” you began, your voice low but steady, “today of all days, but I feel like the right time will never come for us, so I’ll just say it.”

Pedro’s eyes searched yours with anticipation, perhaps fear or hope, watching you with that unwavering focus that made your heart race.

In that moment, you realized, you didn't know where to start.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat. “I disappeared like that, and I know I hurt you. I was... I was dealing with so much, and I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t move. Some days were harder than others, and I felt so ashamed. So lost. So sad.”

The word sad hung between you, fragile yet heavy. You could see it in his face—how your words cut him deeply. His lips parted, and you saw the pain flicker in his eyes, the understanding that only he could offer.

“Baby,” he said, the word tender, rich with affection. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming yet calming all at once. His hand moved to your hair, fingers brushing it aside before resting gently on the side of your head. The touch was so familiar, so comforting, you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of it wash over you.

“No,” Pedro said softly, his voice breaking just a little. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not doing more. For not being there when you needed me. I’m a fucking coward.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. “I pushed you away because I thought… I thought you were happy with her.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through the pain. “And before that, I pushed you away because I thought you just didn't want me. I figured it was better to let you be.”

He let out a breath, stepping even closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I got with her because I couldn’t escape you,” he confessed, the words raw and full of regret. “You were always there, in my head, in my heart. I thought if I could be with someone else, maybe… maybe I’d forget you, but I couldn’t.”

You felt the tears sting at the back of your eyes. The truth of it, the weight of his words, felt like a key turning in a lock that had long been rusted shut. You wanted to say more, to tell him everything, but before you could, Pedro’s hand slipped to your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

“I was afraid that you'd be the only person I ever actually wanted. And now I'm afraid that my one and only chance at happiness has passed me by.” He whispered, his voice low and intense. “And I…I think about kissing you more than I think about anything else, literally in the world. It’s my go-to thought when my mind has a minute to spare.”

You could barely breathe. The air between you felt charged, electrified by everything he was admitting, by the love you had both buried for so long. “I was so scared,” he continued, his eyes glistening. “So scared of fucking up our friendship, scared of what people might say, and scared of losing you because… I’ve never known what to do with pain, mi amor. All I’ve ever done is hide from it. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”

You reached up, covering his hand with yours.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if your touch was too much, too overwhelming. Then, slowly, he opened them again, his gaze locking onto yours with such intensity it made your heart ache. “I was such an idiot,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought I could live without you, but the truth is, I’ve never been able to. Not for a single day.”

You smiled, your own tears finally spilling over. “Well, that makes two of us.”

"You're my favorite person to talk to," he said, "even when we're fighting."

There was a beat, a single breath in which the world seemed to pause, and then he kissed you. It wasn’t a tentative kiss, shy, or unsure—it was everything. Every moment, every longing look, every stolen glance over the years poured into this one, perfect moment. His lips were soft but demanding, his hands slipping into your hair as he pulled you closer. You knew people could be watching from afar, but you melted into him, because nothing else mattered right now.

When you finally pulled back, foreheads pressed together, both of you gasping for air like you'd been drowning and only just found the surface. His forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky, and in that moment, you saw it all—the vulnerability, the fear, the anger, and beneath it all, the raw, unrelenting love.

Pedro’s voice was thick with emotion as he spoke, “I hate myself for waiting this long.” His hands slid down to your shoulders, gripping them with a desperation that made your heart twist. “I watched you disappear, and I told myself it wasn’t my place. But it was. It always was.”

His eyes bore into yours, deep pools of brown that always saw you, even when you didn’t want to be seen. His hands turned and pushed you slowly to the railing, and you could feel the cold biting into your back even through the thick layers of your jacket.

“I hated myself too,” you admitted, the words spilling out in a rush, messy and imperfect, but true. “I thought about you every day. And I hated myself for it because I couldn’t let go. I tried, God. I tried with everything I had to move on, but it was always you. It was always you, Pedro.”

His lips trembled, and you saw the tears in his eyes—the same tears that were stinging yours. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

“We wasted so much time.”

You nodded, your own heart breaking at the realization. All the years you had spent avoiding each other, convincing yourselves it was for the best, when deep down, you knew the truth.

You had been running—both of you—from something that had always been there.

“I know,” you said softly, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against the scruff on his jaw. “But we’re here now. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. “I love you,” he said, the words a soft confession.

You smiled, face wet with tears, your heart finally free of the burden it had carried for so long.

“I know."

a/n: aaaahh finally!!! these idiots got it right it only took like 20 years lol.

an extra final chapter is coming very soon. i had so much fun writing this. i started writing this silly little fic right after a breakup because i was feeling lonely and it was the best way for me to not feel like that sooo i wanted to thank everyone who read, liked, reblogged or commented, it means the world to me that someone else enjoys something that takes so much of my time. love you all so much!!!

[tpwk-formula1]

omg i love love love the pizzeria idea! its so fun! can i get cauliflower crust and alfredo sauce with garlic, banana peppers and pineapple and a lemonade with dessert served by logan sargeant

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

cauliflower sunshine x grumpy alfredo sauce sweet sex garlic "I know you love it when I fill that pretty pussy with my cum" banana peppers "Look so pretty riding my cock" pineapple "Look so pretty wrapped around my cock" lemonade body worship dessert yes served by Logan Sargeant

Logan x Sunshine! girlfriend

AN - To the sweet human who just sent an anonymous message about a request they made for Lewis a few days ago would you please lmk why one is yours? I have about 15 requests for Lewis currently. You're request was definitely not too long I'm just working through my requests from the first day the Pizzeria opened when I got a wave of like 10 requests in a matter of hours and now currently have 40+ orders waiting to be completed but I work full time and am also a full-time student. I'm doing my very best I promise.

TW - creampie, soft very sweet sex, blow job

WC 800+ (sorry its so short)

Y/N POV

"Baby, are you ready to head home?" Logan asks roughly making me smile brightly and nod.

"Yes, please! Fucking finally," I reply back making Logan smile small at my excitement before we are heading to the car to leave the small hangout with friends we planned when we finally got back into the States after Logan was let go from Williams.

Since his departure from Williams, I have watched all the excitement drain from Logan's eyes making everything so hard because I knew there was nothing I could do to ease his pain.

When we get home I'm dragging Logan through our apartment ready to have some alone time with him.

"Please let me take care of you, baby!" I beg Logan with clear excitement laced in my voice. Logan just laughed softly making me beem knowing it's rare to get to hear his laugh right now.

It didn't take much convincing for our clothes to be thrown around are room making the once-clean room instantly look cluttered with the way our clothes were haphazardly thrown around the room.

I'm grinding my bare pussy against Logan's cock while keeping my lips on his muffling both of the needy whimpers that are falling through our lips.

I start trailing my kisses from Logan's down to his jaw where I find the spot he loves and suck a small hickey making sure to mark his pretty skin as a reminder that he is mine.

"I love you, you're the best person in the world," I start while still kissing around his neck and shoulders.

"I wish you could see how talented you are, deserve so much better," I mumble against Logan's heated skin as I keep leaving soft wet kisses all over his skin.

By the time I had reached Logan's hard and raging cock I had spent the last five minutes leaving kisses and praises around his body letting him know how loved and amazing he was.

When I looked up at Logan I noticed his eyes were swimming with so much love but still had a hit of hurt and lust while his cheeks were a cute shade of red having been blushing the entire time during the praise.

"I love you," I mumble softly before pulling Logan's cock into my mouth and slipping it down my throat making sure to take as much as I can before using my hand to jerk off the rest I can't reach with my mouth.

"Look so pretty wrapped around my cock" Logan praises making my cheeks heat. We both loved when we got to just enjoy sex instead of rushed quickies before or after a race or rough sex after another bad race.

When I knew Logan was as hard as he was gonna be I made sure to spit as much as possible all over his cock before jerking his cock to make sure his entire cock is slicked up but I'm climbing on top of his and slowly sinking down on his cock making both of us gasp and moan.

I take a few seconds to adjust to his size before I'm rocking my hips slightly making both Logan and I moan before I start bouncing my hips making sure to speed up to the perfect pace for Logan and I to have a slow build to a powerful orgasm.

"Look so pretty riding my cock," Logan groans out when I start bouncing just a little faster knowing Logan and I both desperately needing a release.

When I kept bouncing my hips on Logan's cock I can feel his hips under me starting to tense up letting me know he was going to cum which has me teasing my clit slightly so I can fall over the edge at the same time as Logan.

As soon as my orgasm hits I feel Logan's hands on my hips making sure to keep me bouncing at the same pace as he starts cumming in my pussy and now riding out our orgasms together.

I could feel his cum being pumped into my making me whine slightly before Logan is softly lifting me off his cock making his cum leak out of my pussy and drip onto Logan's softening cock before laying me down on his chest so he can hold me in his arms.

"Thank you," Logan says softly still out of breath from our last actions.

"For what?" I question a bit confused about the thank you.

"For taking care of me, loving me even in this shitting time, and taking my mind off of everything. Fuck Just thank you for everything you have done for me," Logan says making me smile softly before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Well thank you for being my everything," I tell him softly while raking my fingers through his hair before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

[daughter-of-sapph0]

what do you gain from sending cruel anons? satisfaction? approval from others? does someone pay you to do it? I never understood why you freaks do that bullshit. it's useless anyway.

I'm not publishing your anonymous ask. no one deserves to look at that slop.

it doesn't even hurt me. nothing you say to me can be worse than the pain I've already felt. your words mean nothing to me. you can tell me to kill myself all you want. you'll never be louder than the voice in my head who almost convinced me to do it.

I've already reached my lowest point in my life. I've gotten better. I love myself too much to let you take that away from me.

you, on the other hand, are sitting alone in your room and copypasting the same generic message to random trans people you see online, because your life has literally no value, because you will never do anything of note, because you're unworthy of any sort of affection from others, and you will die alone, unhappy, unfulfilled, unaccomplished, and your last dying wish as you sit on your death bed surrounded by no one is that you could have spent more time being a cruel heartless bigoted irredeemable cunt to people online.

meanwhile I'll be living my best life. I'll forget about your entire existence later this afternoon. I'll continue to spend time with the people I love, and help spread positivity to people who need it. I will outlast you. I'll live my life to the fullest while you rot in your isolation. I will outlive you. my legacy will continue after I'm gone while people will try and pretend that your ilk never existed. I will outlove you. I will be a reminder that your negativity and hatred is but a momentary stain on existence that will be washed away by unconditional love and support.

I'm no longer speaking to that anonymous asker. instead I address this to my followers, as well as anyone else who may see this post: do not answer anon hate ever. it's not worth it. those people do not care about your response, and only receive gratification from seeing you suffer.

I know a lot of you weren't online in ye olden days. but back then, we had rules for the internet. and one of them is to never feed the trolls. feeding the trolls mean they win. somewhere along the line some of them managed to convince people that blocking the trolls means they win. that's not true. blocking means you win because you'll never have to see their disgusting horrendous comments again. the block button is your best friend. use it.

if you get anon hate, delete it. block the sender (which I'm pretty sure now ip blocks whoever sent the ask), and if it continues, turn of anons, or even turn off asks in general. do not let them hurt you. do not engage. do not respond. do not answer them. they aren't looking for a debate. and you won't change their mind. answering their ask just exposes their slop to all your followers. and none of them want to see that shit.

remember that for every hateful anon message you get, there are 100 people who love you unconditionally and care about you. do not let the loud hateful minority win.

maybe what I'm doing counts as feeding the troll. I'm not directly answering their ask, but I'm still getting involved. but fuck it. I'm turning their hate into positivity. I'm using this as a moment to spread awareness to others.

if you're a person on the internet who's received hateful messages, especially if you're trans, I promise you that you're not alone. ignore them. find people who care about you and love you. I promise that the small annoying obnoxious voice does not represent the opinions of society as a whole. I promise that nothing they say is true. I promise that you are loved. unconditionally. forever. simply because you are you.

[door-insurance]

So I played Life is Strange 2 for the first time ever

I didn’t wanna play it for a long time not cause it didn’t have Chloe or max (tbh I got sick of their asses around BtS they’re not even my faves)

By that point I was in college and had lost interest in the whole franchise but also I was very apprehensive of white creatives writing racism with no input from the group they’re portraying, they don’t usually do a good job

Sometimes they make it cartoony, sometimes they trivialize it, sometimes they romanticize it

So years later adulthood kicked my ass and I came back crawling to this franchise for some comfort, I finished True colors annnnd I finally started 2 after hesitating annnnd

^sketched this while playing

SPOILERS

I actually liked it

I liked Sean, the drawing segment he does- he was such a likable main guy, deserved better honestly.

I also liked Daniel, he was very adorable and I never got it when people called him annoying like no shit the 9 year old is gonna act like a 9 year old- just don’t be a jerk to him, I know he can be frustrating but that’s what taking care of a kid is like

And lis had always been about realistic complex characters, y’all can’t handle a traumatized nine year?

I have two younger siblings and two nieces plus I’ve been a bratty younger sibling to two older sisters

Maybe I’m just used to it?? But honestly Daniel wasn’t that bad

The racism portrayal in the first few episodes was not all that cartoony and it actually felt real at times, like I can check for American news rn and find stories similar to what you see in episodes 1-3 (minus the telekinesis)

Although the gas station racist hick spouting trump slogans was a bit on the nose, it’s more of dialogue thing

Some people thought the gas station detainment was egregious but it can happen unfortunately, especially to vulnerable people in rural areas and by someone of a higher systematic advantage

One other thing I did not like was the love interests, I thought Finn and Cassidy were alright characters on their own but why do we need romance in this game where the protagonists are always on the run?

I don’t like to compare lis 1 to 2 but when it comes to the romance the former did a better job as it spent more time establishing it, plus max stayed in the same place for the majority of the game- but you know what? Sean doesn’t have to be in a relationship right? It can be a one off thing, that’s fine

Which brings me to my next point

How old are Cassidy and Finn?

Cause Sean is still 16 and no, being on the road didn’t mentally age him- he’s not “mature” for his age

He is still a kid

So for some reason Dontnod never really specified their ages but some articles described them as teens (they look 30 to me) and they can be around 18 right? Their lives are hard stress ages you- it happens, we can with live that, it’s just a two years difference

But teens or not

why did they animate a whole knocking the boots scene???

Of all the games in the series, the only one that gets a sex scene is the one with the much younger protagonist and his ambiguously aged older looking love interest and I think it’s only with Cassidy you get to do it in the tent

Alex Chen was robbed of a on screen booty call from a beanie wearing lesbian with a sexy radio voice or a buff ass Adonis of a man who was Smokey the bear’s regional manager or something

Anyways I’m gonna move on I’m uncomfortable lmao

*im not hating on people who ship Sean with either Finn or Cassidy, I’m not even tagging your ship names- im just stating my personal preferences on my blog

One last thing I did not like about LiS 2 and it was the one thing that kept me from playing it for years

That one scene from episode 4

So at this point Sean Diaz went through the following:

-lost his father, had to abandoned his loved ones, education and home

-was accused of killing a cop

-had to take care of his little brother on his own while on the run, the same brother with telekinesis and none of them know how to control it

-was harassed, beaten then detained by a racist white man

-had to take refuge in an abandoned cabin with little resources

-the dog that they adopted at the gas station eventually gets mauled

-the one time they found solace at their grandparents house they had to leave abruptly cause the police was hot on their trail

-on their way out they can potentially witness the neighbors kid that they befriended get hit by the police car that’s chasing them

-they find shelter at a nomad campground but oh no they get involved with drug trafficking cause they barely have any other options to make money (unfortunately this happens a lot IRL this isnt egregious)

-Sean now has to deal with the trafficking, making sure that Daniel doesn’t get into any trouble with his powers while fake ass giancarlo esposito is breathing down his neck

-and guess what happens next… Daniel gets robbed into pulling a heist on temu gus fring and it goes badly, Sean can potentially lose a love interest/friend in Finn

-Sean gets hurt, Daniel goes so mad that he blows the whole place up; a shard glass flies into Sean’s eye and he ends up losing it

- Sean wakes up from a coma and learns that his brother is missing and he’s about to be taken to jail

- the one thing that consistently brought him joy during this trip was his art and because of the missing eye he can’t even do it the same anymore cause it hurts now

- Sean has to escape the hospital with a hot wired car, little money and has to drive across two states just to get to his brother

-on the way he dreams of his father, he wants him back he wants his old life back but that’s not gonna happen so he has to move forward

Im not listing all this as examples of bad story telling, a lot of these are real life experiences of homeless people. im just painting a picture of the shit that Sean had went through so far

Cause right after the dream sequence, Dontnod didn’t think all that was enough no you had to see Sean get hate crimed by two lifetime movie, sitcom special of the week racists- be made to either sing or suffer a brutal beating

It added nothing to the plot, it didn’t need a choice system either- it’s a hate crime, you’re not asking Joyce for fucking pancakes or eggs n bacon at the whales diner or hosing down Lisa the fckin plant.

This to me went straight to trauma p*rn category, it’s wheelchair Chloe all over again

I hated it then in LiS 1 and I hated now in LiS 2, this is why I don’t dick ride Dontnod that often

They always had this tendency right before the end they single out a particular character and mentally whip them, they become the writing teams punching bag- they think we didn’t get it the first time that this character is going through it, they just hammer it in with the subtlety of a heart attack and I hate it

“Yeah but it’s there to show Sean’s resolve to find Daniel-“

HE ESCAPED FROM THE HOSPITAL AND THE FEDS, HE HOT WIRED A CAR TO DRIVE ACROSS TWO STATES

He’s starving, dehydrated, suffering from chronic pain

That’s enough

Let the character breathe

You ask why not a lot of people wanna play this game and I’m gonna tell you, as much I enjoyed it myself it’s not an easy game to play- it gets brutal, especially right around the end

I’m not against bleakness or extreme conflict, I’m into that but sometimes that doesn’t translate well to any gaming format- especially a choices matter game that’s meant to be replayed

Some people have asinine reasons not to play LiS 2 like it dealing with racism and those people suck, lis had always dealt with progressive themes like calling out objectification, cyberbullying and sl*tshaming

Racism shouldn’t be the exemption

but misuse of racial trauma and not knowing when it’s appropriate to invoke it is a huge turn off and hella triggering to a lot of non white players and I remember when LiS 2 dropped I’ve seen (mostly white) lis fans at the time proclaiming that not wanting to play it meant that you were racist

Like I said there were probably racists who didn’t wanna touch the games cause of the main characters skin but there were people like me who were apprehensive of the “Let’s go to the mosh pit Shaka brah” people handling racism

This is the same studio that had Ms Grant (one of the few black characters from LiS 1) claim that the white settlers peacefully shared the stolen land with the native Americans

I find that shit harder to believe than the time traveling powers

And they were doing alright in the first episodes they covered stuff like unconscious biases slipping through, dog whistles, polite racism from the grandparents segment, police brutality, racial profiling and being targeted/othered- some of these things I went through when I visited western countries

Then they did the bullshit I feared theyd do…

I really don’t blame myself for being hyper vigilant at the time and honestly I was going through a lot then, even if I wanted to I wouldn’t have touched LiS 2 cause it’s a very heavy tasking game to play

I know I kinda made it seem like I didn’t like this game but I did, its the best one in terms of the choice system

It had more weight to it, seeing Daniel internalizing what you say to him or how you act around him was so cool

Also what the second game has over the first one aside from the choices system is the ending selection- I never liked picking the endings for max, I wanted her to pick the ending or her coding/script to do that

Its definitely more fleshed out technically even though LiS 1 has a special place in my heart it’s always gonna be no. 1- but im also glad that I got to experience the 2nd game for the first time, I liked it

Personal lis ranking

1: Lis 1

2: Lis 2

3: True colors

Discount bin: BtS

My personal fave moments from LiS 2:

- beating up the racist bully and giving him a concussion

-mushroom (rip icon)

- victorias letter

-winning that that bear from that claw machine

-gorillaz song that was not feel good inc

-Brody pointing at a fucked up looking arcadia bay yelling “that’s the past!”- that was hilarious

-Sean paying tribute to Arcadia bay in his sketchbook (this fucking kid man, he’s so sweet he deserves the world- what did he do to make DONTNOD mad at him)

- the wolf animation and the story that plays before every chapter

-this was the worst hate crime in the whole game

[howtotrainabraincell]

Greetings my fellow AC mutual!!!

Lately I have been reading all your canon posts here and may I say that I love them all. You have created amazing canons here. I'm feeling extra romantic so here's an idea: how would the Assassins, including Templars, feel on their wedding day? The before, during and after the wedding. You can choose all of them or a few of them.

Please and thank you 😊🙏 and have a wonderful day today.

Sure thing! This is a cute one!!

A/N: I may not have put it in each one, but they will respect their wife's wishes to not be intimate on their wedding night (whether it be fear or being exhausted from the festivities). But...I mean come on. Who wouldn't want to have a wedding night with any of them?

ALSO, there may be multiple parts to this bc there's A LOT I got going on in this mind of mine when it comes to this lot getting married...

Jacob Frye

Before:

You know this man will have his Rooks there lolll they'll be throwing the biggest loudest bash London has ever seen in honor of their Boss getting hitched. He just might make Greenie his best man (he teases the man to the ninth realm and back but they're good buddies for real).

Jacob takes this seriously. He's still his wonderfully goofy and chaotic self but he takes certain aspects of marriage more seriously. He wants her to know that he'll be good to her, he'll protect her with his life, and he'll love her even after he dies. He also takes setting up a home for her seriously. The man isn't for anything lavish and she isn't either (her cozy non-materialistic ways are something that majorly attracted Jacob to her - high key don't think he'd like somebody who was materialistic, as happiness is in life not things) but he wants to set up a nice little place for them to call 'home' together. A place where they can be together as husband and wife and hopefully have a handful of little rooks running around one day. A place that's theirs and theirs alone.

During:

He thinks she looks beautiful in her wedding dress (he bet she looks even better out of it tho...PFFT). He'll never admit to it, but his eyes began to sting at the sight of her - and of course he wasn't rubbing the tears from his eyes throughout the ceremony! He just had something in his eyes...

He's very genuine and sweet when he recites his wedding vows 'In sickness and in health, etc.' to you, both of you having decided to save the personal vows for each other privately. (Heads up Jacob cried when he read her letter of vows and promises to him, he couldn't believe how sweet it was. Man was legit sitting there thinking 'How'd I get such a wonderful wife?'). He genuinely cannot believe that he found a wife who loves and accepts him for him. Rest assured that any insecurities Jacob has before they marry will soon be gone because his wife loves him the way he's always deserved.

Once the marital vows are said and done, they move on to the exchange of rings...and that's when the tears start.

Jacob knows that she isn't materialistic and that she doesn't need a fancy ring to know that he loves her, but he thinks she deserves it, and he has just thing in mind. Something that compliments her eyes because they're one of his top favorite (and he has a lot lol) things about her. Something that reflects the joy in her eyes when she laughs, the smile crinkles she's developed from years of managing to laugh through her struggles, and the swirls of color. Jacob would definitely enlist the help of his big sister in finding a ring for his soon to be wife and does.she.come.through. When it comes time for the ring exchange, he's pleasantly surprised to find that she put just as much thought into his ring as he did hers.

Both are engraved with confessions of their love for one another and intricately designed to match the spouse they were made for.

After:

He would enjoy the celebration, and it would be planned and based off of how his wife feels about such celebrations. Jacob being a bit more extroverted is likely to enjoy socializing and having a big get together - and if his wife is the same way then great! But if she's more introverted and can only take so much he's whisking her away, so she doesn't get stressed out. I actually think that he would want to be alone with his new wife and not just for *wink wink* but he wants some alone time to just have a slow moment with her. He would enjoy the celebration his Rooks put together for them and she thinks it's so sweet that they went all out, but as we know Mr. Frye has a tendency to act rashly when he becomes impatient. Next thing you know, he's scooping his wife up without a care in the world and carrying her off with a grin five miles wide, her face the exact replica of a tomato as she clings to him, and the Rooks cheering them goodbye as Jacob carries her off.

If she's afraid of the wedding night activities this man is instantly comforting her assuring her that he doesn't expect anything, he would never hurt her, and he'll wait for her. If she's tired? He is too honestly (he does have a lot of energy, but I imagine when he's alone he just OOF crashes but doesn't want anyone to see it. I mean he does have a full-time job annoying Evie ofc lol what else are baby brothers for?) so cuddling and going to sleep together is just fine with him. But if she wants him - tired or not - he'll give her everything he's got and then some.

Do I need to go into Jacob's wedding night? I mean... it's Jacob. The man lives to serve and please. And please he does...

Bayek of Siwa (I included him bc he legit started it all technically a Hidden One but potato pitatoh)

Before: This man is joyful on his wedding day. He's so excited to marry her and spend their days together. Whether this is after his divorce from Aya or we're not going with cannon and it's his first marriage - this man wants to be a husband, he is husband material. He can't wait to pledge himself to her before the gods and dedicate his life to loving her. He can't wait for her to be his wife HOWEVER - If we're going with cannon he was rejected when he proposed to Aya, so he has some understandable hesitancy when he proposes to his love. Can you blame him? He really loved the one he proposed to the first time and got shot down poor guy. It's the second time he's proposed in this life, and he does not make the mistake of thinking that just because they're in love that she'll say yes. He made that mistake before, and it felt like a knife to the gut.

BUT - If we're going with head cannon... this time he found himself a woman who was ecstatic to be proposed to by him (and I mean literally ecstatic like she tackled him in happiness making him laugh his ass off before she showered him in kisses and said yes).

If sticking to cannon he is worried and afraid deep down to remarry. He loves her very much so much in fact he believes that he very well loves her even more than he loved Aya (which like WOW ya know what I'm saying?). But when he's around her all fears and worries are eased and he comes to his senses knowing that he would forever regret not spending the rest of his life with her, now that he's met her and has her in his life.

Headcannon wise he's still a bit scared as being a Medjay is stressful and a known profession in which one is likely to gain enemies (insert middle finger to members of the order of ancients). He worries about her being targeted but he knows that she can take care of herself (she'll make one hell of a Medjay's wife that's for sure LOL). He also fears that it would be selfish to marry her and put her in danger - but upon sharing this fear with her she quickly dismantled his fear. Whether they marry or do not marry, either way - she could possibly be targeted by his enemies, to this he agreed. Then she asserted that it would be better that they face their adversaries together with their love motivating them to eliminate all threats, than to face those who oppose them separately. To this he simply smiled and hugged her tightly melting into her embrace.

During: They didn't really have weddings in Ancient Egypt more so the signing of a binding marriage document, the woman moving into the man's home to live with him as his wife, and then it could/would be followed by a celebration. However...that is Egypt as a whole...not Siwa. Those of us who have seen this beautiful spot in Egypt where beloved Bayek is from, know that it's beautiful and lively (quite frankly a great place to start a family) and you just know that Bayek is from a community that loves him. They're going to throw him and his intended a celebration to end all celebrations.

Hepzefa ISN'T dead I.DON'T.CARE - he's absolutely Bayek's best man.

Bayek in his armor and her in a linen dress covered by a layer of sheer fabric with a lily in her hair, as they get married in the evening when it cools off, the sand unable to burn their feet and the sun unable to glare in their eyes so they can actually look at each other lol. Any fear he had is gone when he sees her at the end of the aisle. They meet each other at the end of the aisle and join arms to walk together toward Hepzefa (who OFC is marrying them obvs). They make their vows before the gods to love, cherish, respect, support and be honest with each other for as long they both live.

After:

Again, if we're sticking to cannon, I think that Bayek would move in with his new wife instead of her moving in with him. A new home and a fresh start with his new wife, is just what this man could use after his arduous journey.

Headcannon however they would move into their own place in Siwa together and work together to make their home everything they dreamed it could be. I HIGHLY believe that he would find a way to make a pond for her filled with water lilies (his nickname for her btw - she's his "beautiful lily").

After a night of dancing, laughter, feasting and sheer happiness they would go home together. They would end the night by sitting on the roof of their new home together watching the Oasis of Siwa from afar, bundled up tightly together in a blanket against the chill air of the Egyptian night. He would point out the different spots of Siwa from they sat, but mostly they would admire the beauty of the moon on the oasis not too far away. They might even go for a swim in the cool waters together, laughing and splashing each other. Tell.me.he doesn't sneak attack her from underwater lloollll. They'd spin around in the water easily with Bayek holding her against him and smiling as she gushes about how much she's enjoyed the day.

I don't think Bayek would make love to her on the banks of the oasis for their first time the man has romantic plans that he plans to woo her with lol. (Later on, in their marriage though...woo!) Rest assured that their first time will be sweet and romantic, he'll make her as comfortable as possible, with pillows everywhere and candlelight guiding their hands within the walls of their home.

Also like the idea of them traveling to Alexandria together and having their honeymoon there. Them exploring the Alexandrian Lighthouse together, the library (shortly before it BURNED DOWN DAMN YOU CAESER), horseback riding through the sand dunes and around the lush greenery near the Nile, going to the markets together and giggling about whatever it is that they find funny, sailing on the Nile together and fishing/gathering reeds for various projects, THEY WOULD CLIMB THE PYRAMIDS TOGETHER CHANGE.MY.MIND.

Evie Frye

Before: Their wedding isn't one that can be celebrated openly but they still have a celebration that is the epitome of love. The two women had both agreed to write their vows for one another and exchange them after the wedding, wanting to keep their promises to each other and words of love just between them.

They couldn't decide on names lol. Evie wanted her last name, and she wanted Evie's last name. But they quickly came up with a solution as they both have brothers. They decided to hyphenate their last names for some extra cover. Evie becomes Mrs. Frye-(L/N) and she becomes Mrs. (L/N)-Frye. That way no one would suspect them being married and if anyone ever asks, Evie married one of her (wife's) brothers and is her "sister-in-law" the same way Jacob is a stand in husband for Evie's wife and she is Evie's "sister-in-law". History will say that they were sisters in law hahaha.

But for real though tell me why they end up calling each other "Mrs" SO MUCH in private (Evie almost forgets that she's a Dame bc she gets called Missus *insert her last name* so much by her wife haha).

During:

Not able to shout their love from the rooftops unfortunately, the couple settles to have a very small and private ceremony. Jacob - who would NEVER breathe a word, Henry who's just happy to see them happy, Ned would probably be there and while Abberline would be SHOOK (I don't care if that word died out like 8 years ago lol it's funny) he would be pleased to know that they've found happiness together.

Tell me why I'm so damn sure that Jacob marries them (he would do that for his sister jokes, loving eye rolls from his big sister and all). They would either get married on the train not too far from the Red Lion where they would go afterward to celebrate, or in Henry's shop (his wedding gift would be lots of various flowers ranging from "everlasting love" to "trust and loyalty").

OR I do have a head cannon that they don't have any witnesses at all. They go up to rooftop facing the Thames and wait for sunrise together with their rings and a basket of goodies they both enjoy. When the sun begins to rise, they make their vows to each other tearfully and very sincerely, pledging the rest of their lives to each other and promising to always be together and love one another. They do this so that they can start the new day together as wives and say what they truly want to one another without an audience. It'll even become tradition years later that they both stay up until sunrise to celebrate their anniversary as the years go on, just the two of them

After:

They do their own wedding presents, and the new Mrs. Frye can't help but giggle at Evie's reaction when she gives her the special edition of her favorite book. I think we can all imagine how ecstatic the loveable bookworm that is Dame Evie Frye would be.

When Evie reads the vows, her new wife has written for her she boo hoos too lol. She can't believe that she's lucky enough to have married such a sweet and wonderful woman. Especially when she thought she would never marry and dedicate her entire life to the Creed.

Something fun the two women embark on together is setting up their home together. Not having been able to have had an open wedding they didn't have wedding showers or receive the traditional wedding gifts; they pick out each piece of their new home together! With how in sync, they are together there is hardly anything they disagree on (unless its Evie's wife trying to get her to stop working herself almost to death...by smooching her to the point where Evie looks like a laughing tomato haha) and their home comes together wonderfully. Everything in their home cozy and a reminder of their love.

It takes Evie a little bit before she finally lets go of the fear that getting married to her love, was nothing more than a wonderful dream. But each morning when she wakes up and either sees her wife next to her sleeping safe and sound, or she wakes to beautiful flowers followed by Mrs. Frye trailing in quietly with a cup of morning tea for her still sleepy wife. Her wife can rest assured that Dame Evie Frye will love her for the rest of their lives.

Altair Ibn La' Ahad

Before: He never thought he would marry or fall in love the way he's fallen in love with her. He's a naturally a confident man, so there's no doubt in his mind that he wants to be her husband and spend the rest of his life with her. There's no doubt...but there is worry. He worries about being a good husband to her in terms of giving her a safe stable home due to being an assassin and he knows that he can be...emotionally stunted, but he plans to correct that and never leave her wondering if he loves her. Because he does with his whole being. After all, if she can help pull him out of his younger arrogant ways, by gently and patiently telling him why he's wrong without criticizing him, then she can do anything.

During: His worries are vanquished when he sees her. He immediately knows that come what may, they'll be alright so long as they're together. He can't stop looking at her during the wedding, making her blush as he smiles at her (surprising the hell out of Malik lol bc the 'tHe nOvICe cAn SmILe?') As they take their vows a few cheeky looks are given here and there the pair obviously checking each other out, (insert Malik gagging like a goof). Altair can't get over how she looks like an otherworldly being with her beauty unmatched by anyone or anything. She can't get over how handsome and gallant he looks in his robes, with his hood down (GASP), his sword at his side as his thumbs rub the backs of her hands. (But with the hood thing he's never had anything to hide, he just wants to show his face and let everyone know that he's marrying her and that he's proud to be her husband. He's a very proud husband haha). When they seal their new union with a kiss, he bends down to pick her up and hold her tightly making her laugh. They both can't stop smiling, completely and utterly happy and excited to start the rest of their life together.

After: He would bring her jasmine and a few Damasks roses - they're nowhere near as beautiful as he thinks she is but the sweetness of each flower reminds him of her - in a neatly gathered bushel and loves the smile it brings to her face. He doesn't care about having a wedding night, he just wants to be with his wife and love on her in whatever manner she wishes. Sitting there and watching the stars over Masyaf or Jerusalem (depending on when/where they get married) If she wants to lay there with him and relax, he's happy to hold her and do just that. But if she wants him to take her...her mind will be blown at just how loving her new husband can be...

Ratonhnhake:ton/Connor Kenway

Before: He's worried about being a good husband. Very worried. He wants to be a wonderful husband to her, as wonderful as she is to him. He loves her with everything he has of course and would defend her with his life. But he was so focused on his mission to take the Templar order down, to get justice for his mother, so focused on his rage...that despite how much he loves her, he wonders if he can pull himself out of the dark mindset that he was in for so long to treat her the way she deserves. He will try but he still worries. He doesn't want to be angry (never at her keep in mind - about life in general) his entire life. Her kisses and presence helps though, more than she'll ever understand. He wants to be there for her as much as she's been there for him, through thick and thin, no matter what.

During: Feel like there would be two weddings for the couple. A colonial one (planned by the Homestead for the happy couple) and a traditional Mohawk wedding (planned by the Clan mother who is so excited to see him getting married), a wedding to honor both his and her culture. He stands like a statue clasping his hands in front of him patiently, eager, and nervously until he sees her. Cheesy as it is... the sight of her brings him peace. He can't even wait for her to make it to the altar, making his way to her down the aisle in a few long strides to meet her with a smile. They walk down the aisle together arm in arm and hands intertwined, unable to contain their excitement.

After: He can't stop staring at his wedding ring and smiling at it. Typically, the Mohawk people did not exchange wedding rings until modern times, but he loves his and what it represents. The eternal love and union he and his wife will share. His face hurts from smiling so much, but he doesn't mind it a bit. Now as for the wedding night... I think he would be very shy at first. Terrified of hurting her because he's very aware of the fact that he's massive and intimidates a lot of people. He would never do that to her. Being with her is honestly really enough for him, the emotional intimacy the two share is what made him so sure about making her his wife. The newlyweds would work their way up into sex slowly, getting a little closer each time and accompanied by lots of reassurance and soft laughter. And when they finally got it, the assassin and his wife had never felt more complete in their lives. He makes love in plenty of other ways though - mostly through his thoughtfulness and observation which leads to anticipation. He always knows what she needs before she even asks and he's always happy to help.

Their mornings start off with him usually waking first and realizing that marrying her wasn't a dream. He'll watch her sleeping peacefully in his arms, and then inspect their fingers where their wedding bands lie and realize that it's real. They got married. He's married to this wonderful woman. She's, his wife. Before he can begin to spiral in excitement he leans down and scoops her closer to him, burying his face in her neck which makes her laugh softly.

Venturing outside together to enjoy nature and do various outdoor activities, playful banter and pairing up to hunt together and scavenge. He'll look over and see her helping him with a fresh kill or scavenging other items and become overwhelmed with the desire to kiss her out of nowhere. Needless to say, lots of love and laughter fills the lives of Ratonhnhake:ton and his wife.

Henry Green/Jayadeep Mir

Before: He's happy and so ready to be her husband. He's admitted to himself that he's liked her from their first meeting, but he's loved her almost as long (which is not long at all because he fell for her quick). I don't know why but I can imagine that Jacob might try to do the whole "you know how the wedding night works right?" talk with him much to Henry's horror haha. He gently assures the younger Frye that he does in fact know what to do on his wedding night with his wife, if she'll have him. Don't worry though! The man is from India the birthplace of Kama Sutra...he knows what to do. Trust him.

During: Whether she wears the usual white dress or chooses to honor his culture by wearing traditional Indian bridal clothes, this man will be emotional. Guaranteed his eyes will begin to water when he sees how beautiful the woman he loves is, walking down the aisle to him. When they take each other's hands, he can't help the goosebumps of excitement he gets thinking about how lucky he feels to be marrying such a woman. He'll never understand how he got her to agree to marry him (despite being charming have a head cannon that his charm goes out the window when it comes to proposing to her lol he was so nervous that she would say no!) but he'll never forsake her or take her for granted. Perish the thought!

After: Get ready for a very fun honeymoon! Traveling together and studying each place you go, learning fun facts and the history behind the cultures. I think he would be so excited to show her around where he grew up and tell her stories (the happier ones) from his childhood. I also think that Mr. Green would be eager to prove that his intelligence is more than just the book variety...

Shay Patrick Cormac

Before: He's excited. But also, nervous. So nervous. He's aware that the type of life he leads isn't the safest or the most routine/regular thing a man can do. But you can bet that he'll be damned if he doesn't give his all to be a good husband to her. A worry that runs through his mind is dying at sea on the Morrigan and leaving her widowed and alone. He noticeably goes on less voyages after they marry only going when it's necessary. Depending on when they get married, he may still be traveling around on Templar/Shay way business - but either way whether he's close to retirement or still working, he wants to settle down with her. He plans to create a nice home for her, take care of her, love her, and have a handful of beautiful babies that he'll love almost as much as he loves her.

During: The moment he lifts her veil from her face he can't take his eyes off of her. Literally. The only time he does is to briefly and gently slide the ring onto her finger, otherwise he's smiling and staring at her like a lovesick puppy lol. He's so busy admiring his bride that Haytham with a smirk on his face gently clears his throat reminding Shay that the time to seal his new union has come. When the Irish captain realizes what the Grandmaster is saying the man blushes in slight embarrassment, and you bet he turns right around and kisses his new wife. The pair laughs as those invited applaud in celebration, but they're in their own world together.

After: After the wedding he'll take her to his home (read: their home that he hopes she loves) in New York so they can be alone together, in more ways than one. Their home will definitely know what love is when they're there together. He's a go go go kind of man as we've all seen but he's slow and gentle with her and if she finds herself too tired to celebrate in a more intimate way, she better get ready for the best cuddle session of her life. However, if she does find herself in need of her husband...let's just say that he's Captain of more than the Morrigan... Tell me why the idea of him untying his wife's corset is very erotic... Once they start married life together this man is taking her on the Morrigan (if she wants to go that is if not, he has plenty of other fun things in mind...) and sailing her to wherever she wants to go. I imagine she would choose Ireland to learn about where her husband's family came from, and Shay would love showing her around his place of origin.

Haytham Kenway

Before: He's composed in public ever the austere Grandmaster.... but a mess in private. He can't stop fidgeting with his cravat, pulling at his sleeves, straightening his coat. He looks absolutely handsome, but he knows that he won't hold a candle to his angel of a wife - who he DEFINITELY peeked at lol. You telling me this man didn't try to go to talk to her before the wedding because he missed her, and he doesn't stop short by the crack in the door, dumbfounded by how beautiful she looks? His face will be redder than his vest. With how in love with her he is, he feels less the confident Templar, and more so a little boy in very deep love. He's so happy that he gets to marry his love and spend his life with her, just the sight of her alone helps him to calm down and realize: he's marrying the love of his life.

During:

When he sees her coming down the aisle to him, he forgets how to breathe for a moment. The majority of the ceremony is spent exchanging loving gazes, gentle hand squeezes and him trying not to pass out. She notices how flustered he seems and reaches up to gently cup his face for no one's benefit but his. Needless to say, it helps to calm him significantly.

He can't believe how beautiful she is and how he got her to agree to marry him. Haytham doesn't say it in his vows, but he'll give her the world and more and always take care of her. With this man I have a feeling that actions speak louder than words (I mean did you see how he got rizzed by Ziio LOL everyone thought HE would woo HER, but she BAMBOOZLED him). He may not speak what he's feeling, and she may have to play fill in the blanks sometimes when he becomes overwhelmed by his emotions (cue him being very grateful for her patience), but with her complete agreement he's more than happy to show her in a deep kiss or something a bit more husbandly...

When they're pronounced husband and wife he steps forward while the officiant is still speaking and kisses her with abandon. The Grandmaster is thrown out the window for the moment and the lovestruck man comes out much to his new wife's delight. He embraces her tightly never wanting to let her go and his arms sweep her up in quick spin that makes her squeak in laughter as his own grin spreads across his face.

He would spoil.her.rotten come the wedding and wedding presents.

After:

The celebration would be a grand one and last long into the night. Shay swears upon the Morrigan that he'll knock Hickey's lights out if he gets pissed and starts to cause a ruckus LOOOLL. Haytham is a good dancer, but he doesn't like to make a spectacle of himself, for his new bride however he'll get out there and dance with her feeling absolute contentment in knowing that of all the men in the room that could have her in their arms he has her instead. He enjoys watching her have fun, and every time she finds him in the room and smiles at him while she's dancing, the man swears to the gods that his heart starts to race. You can definitely bet that his face stays a decent shade of red for the majority of the ceremony and party.

The party doesn't end when she comes to him and asks if he's ready to retire for the night, taking his hand when he agrees and pulling him toward the stairs. This man's face is ON FIRE as they go up the stairs together because everyone knows what they're going up there to do and that damn Irish Captain won't stop smirking at him -

He'll help her undress not solely for the purpose of making love to her, but because he wants to help her get comfortable (her beautiful form in front of him in nothing but a chemise is definitely motivation too...). Making her comfortable is his number one priority whether they make love that night or not. Making sure the curtains are drawn so the sunlight won't bother her in the morning, the fire is lit to keep her warm (I head cannon them getting married in winter for some reason... I mean they can keep each other warm during the colder months), making sure she has water on her bedside chamber.

They lay together after the long night holding each other comfortably softly speaking about how wonderful everything was. They may discuss the Order if she's curious about it and she'll make goo goo eyes at him as he speaks so passionately about it, with him blushing as she looks at him so lovingly. They may discuss books they've been reading together (tell me Haytham wouldn't have a private little book club for just him and his wife I DARE YOU). Things between them may become charged when they hold each other's gaze for too long... and then he'll really make her Mrs. Kenway...

NOTE: I KNOW I DIDN'T DO SEVERAL CHARACTERS IN THIS POST I'M SORRY OKAY. Seriously though some characters came easier than others - but there will in fact be a part 2.

[morose-melodies]

Before Pantalone became a harbinger, he was a servant. Before breaking his way into the gates of wealth, he was nothing more than just another face. But to noble-born you, he was the love of your life. You two would even sneak kisses behind the tall doors of your manor, and the windows to your room had always been left open for him.

Ultimately though, you could not stay together. The bourgeoisie loving the proletariat? Unheard of. The mere thought of it could bring a bitter taste to an aristocrat’s tongue. And that’s exactly what happened with your father once he found out. He immediately fired young Pantalone, and due to your father’s status, he was able to make sure Pantalone would never find a job within nobility again. And you too were thoroughly punished.

The last time you saw him, he was shivering due to the Snezhnayan frost, and you were cozied up in your huge fur coat within the walls of your carriage. You wished for nothing more than to swap places with him.

It’s been years since then, your family’s gone bankrupt, and you’ve all been shunned from nobility. But the Northland bank business has been booming, and there’s a familiar face within the snow that surrounds the bank. You would’ve never thought that it was your Pantalone.

The next time you’d see him, was when you had been shivering because of the cold. All your furs, jewelry, and clothes had been stripped from you to pay for your father’s debt. But now, Pantalone had been wearing a stylish fur coat, seemingly commissioned just for him. You two could only stare at each other. You were in disbelief, whilst he seemed less shocked, more pitying than anything.

You couldn’t believe that the once young, naive, doe-eyed boy that used to stare at you like you’d hung the stars has now aged into the older, cynical, slit-eyed man that now stares at you and your family like you’re a bunch of wild dogs. He offers to help you out of your.. predicament; his hand stuck out for you to grab. And like the ever-trusting person you are, still believing that the boy you once knew was the same, had hopped at the opportunity to take his hand. Unfortunately for you though, he’d only offered to help you. (Didn't expect this to be so long T_T rushed towards the end tho cus i got eepy)

I AM SO IN LOVE W UR WRITING

THIS IS SUch a good scenario tyty

things have gotten better since then.

well, that's how it seemed anyway. you could understand why he didn't want to help your family, and though you wanted them to be just as happy as you were, there was nothing you could do about it.

you had begged him to help your family for a while but he never budged - he didn't see the problem with not helping them. they had never done anything for him, they did nothing to deserve his help, but you deserved it.

things seemed too good to be true with pantalone - his manor was beautiful, the house staff were nice and he had a beautiful garden that conveniently had your favorite flowers.

things seemed too good to be true.

your closet was filled with clothing that seemed oddly familiar, oddly reminiscent of the old clothing you once wore, clothes that fit oddly well. your shampoo smelt just like the one you once had. rings pantalone had bought you without any prior knowledge of your measurements fit very well. and each night, just before falling asleep, you could hear your favorite song playing throughout the manor.

things seemed too good to be true.

and things were too good to be true. it had never crossed your mind that pantalone had been overly kind, it never crossed your mind that perhaps pantalone had an ulterior motive.

because why would you ever assume such a thing of him?? he had only ever been a sweetheart to you, in the past and present but... it had been a lingering thought in your mind these past few days due to a few... odd encounters with pantalone.

you would catch pantalone staring or he would stare a few seconds too long, his touches lingered longer than they ought to, and sometimes odd things would slip, such as him mumbling about how 'he couldn't imagine being without you again' and how serious he sounded or when he asked about your relationship with the gardener, saying the two of you had been oddly close and how he'd 'hate to have to fire him' since he was such a diligent worker.

pantalone had changed.

but, perhaps, from the beginning, he was different; perhaps from the beginning, he had an ulterior motive in mind.

[dreamgirlvibes]

We live in a culture where we are told we can go find better and do better- thus isolating ourselves and repeating this cycle over and over after small disagreements and ego-driven battles. Only to find ourselves becoming a capsule of emotions, memories and soul ties left with nothing but a false hope. Yes, there are instances where you SHOULD remove yourself and disconnect from people and things that are truly detrimental to your life and well being. But every single time someone fails or doesn’t meet such high standards, we’d rather let go instead of giving grace. We would rather remove what could have been instead of thinking of our own triggered responses and actions. We end up selfishly choosing ourselves instead and left with only ourselves. Traumatized by what is called love but we never truly find it. Taught by instagram memes and twitter posts and led by their manifestations. Guided by the followers of God and not Himself. Walking around the earth with a pride so high that couldn’t be reached but expecting for people to climb our walls. Love used to last back then because people knew what it was to TRY. We hallmark this ‘’90’s’’ r&b era because deep down inside we all want to find a love that stays, a love that never quits, that is vulnerable and faithful. It’s not about the boy groups ‘’begging and pleading’’ for their women. It’s not about the r&b divas expressing their hearts outs and uplifting their men. It’s not even about a nostalgic feeling. It’s about the fact that that we all had examples and situations that made us BELIEVE that the kinda love we deserve is WORTH IT. Worth crying for, worth chasing, worth staying, worth giving and trying. We are now blind to that type of love. We all have our guns in our pockets and weapons ready to aim at any kind of instance that doesn’t deem to be perfect. We have traded healthy love for toxicity and eventually made toxicity a normal thing- so normal we are TERRIFIED to try. Scared to stay. Horrified to look so crazy, so dumb, to be open, to cry, to do, to feel that we’re slowly becoming numb to the idea of it. Some praise singleness as a form of healthiness to the point of normalcy. And not saying that being single is not normal, but it’s the projection we forget about. People’s projections have become our new will and we all then cycle it back and pass It along. Causing all of us to eventually feel like we can do so much better, be so much better, when in reality we don’t even realize that the real work is working on ourselves. Nothing changes if nobody changes. We point the finger at each other when the target should be our own lives. If only you and that person could call it truths and instead instantly erasing the memories and history you’ve built off a disagreement, y’all can find a solution- first by removing the ego and letting vulnerability take its place. However, in this generation, that almost seems like a scam. We have power words we use for people who make simple mistakes- calling their choices a disease and spreading awareness to what could have easily been an apology. We would rather categorize people by names then to understand their reasons. We would rather perceive someone for what we choose to believe instead of allowing that person to find solace in us. Because in this generation- love is merely a concept. It is just a partnership until the contract is broken and when it breaks, we can go find another partner than can fulfill our selfish needs. It is prideful, it is not kind, it envies, dishonors others, self seeking, easily angered, never trusts, delights in seeing evil after departure and eventually fails. EVERYTHING opposite of what the Bible describes to BE LOVE. So do not think it rare that we have an enemy who is seeking to remove this altogether. To keep us soaked up in this concept until we no loner have a fighting chance. To keep us ‘’cutting each other off’’ and ‘’blocking’’ each other altogether because we feel like there is SO MUCH better when in reality the better needs to be YOU. You are the change that the world needs.

If everyone looked at themselves before trying to find this love in everyone else- we will all be facing ourseves and getting hit with the fact that when you finally turn around- you will THEN truly see each other. We will then finally see LOVE for what it is.

[thefinalwitness]

in general if your response to a certain type of character, especially any form of minority, is literally any variation whatsoever of "that doesn't exist/wouldn't be allowed in this setting" you're being a bigoted piece of shit. just to be super clear. and because my adderall is in full effect rn i will even do you the favor of going over some reasons why your reasoning is not only flawed and inaccurate to begin with, but extremely harmful to entire groups of people you claim to care about.

"that doesn't exist" first of all, who fucking cares if a piece of media has never depicted a lesbian or a nonbinary person or a black person in xyz region/world? just because the creators didn't do it doesn't make it Canonical Law. also, regardless of how fantastical and fictional a setting is, its audience will ALWAYS be from planet earth where lesbians and nonbinary people and black people exist, and those people's feelings and their deservingness to see and put themselves in their favorite stories IS, in fact, more important than some white-ass cishet make believe world.

"it wouldn't be allowed" subtler issue, but an issue nonetheless. just because the setting is hostile TO certain groups of people does not mean those people do not exist there. ask yourself, what is so important to you about certain kinds of people either not existing period, or having to be miserable (closet themselves, conceal certain features, etc), in a given setting. why is that so important to you. why do you think these people can only exist if they hate themselves and/or live their lives suffocated by the world around them. why is it so "lore incompliant" or "immersion breaking" to you. why are you so concerned with upholding real or perceived prejudices in a fictional society if you claim to care about the real people who these prejudices affect. "realism"? see point one.

NONE of the reasons you make up to justify your reinforcement of real world bigotry in a pretend world are even reasons that would ACTUALLY bar xyz group of people from existing in said world. ishgard only shut its gates to the rest of the world for 15 years before ARR. old sharlayan accepted people from tural into its closed society. the ancients could literally conjure up whatever the fuck they wanted inside and outside their bodies. fantasias are a canonical item in the game, as per the quest that literally talks about them and then gives you one. there are HUNDREDS of perfectly lore compliant ways any given type of person could be in any given setting. but more importantly, people shouldn't need to justify why things like sexuality or skin color CAN exist in a given setting, because if you're not harboring some very bigoted ideas about how minorities are allowed to or "supposed" to exist, you don't fucking care about shit like this. it's stupid, inaccurate, and most of all, just plain cruel to the very real people behind these characters.

racism, transphobia, etc already exist in staggering abundance in the real world; you do not need to enforce that cruelty in a random fucking video game unless you have some very fucked up feelings about those groups of people festering in your brain. if you're not a member of those groups, shame on you, do better to support your fellow human beings. if you ARE a member of those groups, i am so fucking sorry the world has rotted your sense of self so deeply as to make you believe you can only exist in misery. i really, sincerely hope you're able to work through that and know that your existence is an inherently joyful, beautiful thing, and people like you deserve to get to exist peacefully, everywhere in the real world and in any and all fictional settings. i know finding worth in ourselves is too often an extremely difficult process, so i ask instead that you start with others like you. be kind to them, support them, find things about them that you admire, and try to see yourself in them. you deserve to get to heal from the insidious, evil things this world has poisoned your heart with.

[ladyniniane]

Happy birthday to me!

I'm turning 28 today🍁🎉🎂! It's time to celebrate what I have accomplished so far.

Last year, I was in an uncertain situation because I had just decided to leave my job. For those who don't know, the whole ambiance had become pretty toxic (especially with my manager), the organization was a mess and there was no hope of getting a raise after three years there. It was taking a real toll on my well-being.

In retrospect, I'm glad I did it because I chose the best for myself. I saw that I deserved better.

Many things happened this year, some good, some bad, some chaotic. But I've accomplished quite a lot! I've decided to go freelance instead of waiting for someone to hire me. I want to decide how I work, with who and especially where (I'm thinking about living in Corsica in the future).

For that, I completed a whole training course and did things I have never done before...It made me confident in my abilities. I'm going to be completely honest: launching my own business is a little scary, especially as the D day comes closer and my anxiety is like "but what if? What if? What iiiiif?", but working on my project was nonetheless pretty satisfying.

I'm not worried about getting closer to 30. I'm still feeling pretty young (and I mean, I am). And I think like I'm finally figuring things out (because yeah, you generally don't have your life in order by 25). I wouldn't trade the life experience and the lessons I've learned for nothing else in the world. In fact, I'm quite curious about the person I will be when I will turn 30. I know social pressure is real for some people, but the sooner you get rid of those standards, the happier you will be.

Things I've learned this year:

-Enjoy the little nothings and find beauty in the mundane. This will make your life more magical.

-Try new things even if afraid. Time will pass anyway.

-It's okay to quit! In fact, it's even better with toxic situations. Distancing yourself from something that harms you is good actually.

-It's important to focus on your emotions. Bad emotions are here for a reason. It's important to focus on them and don't let anyone gaslight you into thinking you're the problem.

-You are enough. You don't have to feel ashamed of everything. You aren't too much, you aren't embarrassing.

-Touch grass as much as possible.

My cat turned 10 (she has seen so many important steps of my life) last month and she's happy and healthy.

Writing-wise, things are going fine. I finished my big fanfic and I've started a novel! And I now need the escapism it provides more than ever.

A big thank you to all of you, people of Tumblr! I'm glad I met you and you make things better☀️!

So, 28, let's see what you have in store for me !

[itsnathateasy]

Armin Week | Day 8 | SFW Prompts | Blind / Deaf Armin OR Birthday

word count: 1,9k warnings: a couple lingerie remarks author’s note: firstly, i couldn’t decide on armin planning your birthday or you planning his, so i did both! secondly, idk what it is with me and dj!connie?? i swear he sucks at it but baby boi loves mixing the tunes yk? i couldn’t deny him anything if i wanted to!

@armin-week-2024

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Armin plans your birthday…

To someone like Armin, birthdays are a big deal, his birthday is a big deal, your birthday is a big deal, his friends’ birthdays are a big deal. He’s the type of person who has his calendars and planners marked with all of his favourite people’s birthdays and he also marks when he should start preparing for them. You were so used to this habit of his, he always got so excited and took care of even minor details. He put so much effort into it all, it was so cute to watch him do all of these things and you often helped him too; running an errand concerning the gift or texting the birthday person to hang out so that you could distract them while Armin and the rest of the group decorated the house and baked the cake.

Even though you knew how Armin was, you never expected anything extravagant for your birthday. You knew he was probably up to something, but didn’t want to pry; his plans never failed, you had no reason to worry. He’d give you an amazing birthday. However, you did want to take care of some preparations on your own, so you decide to let him know”. You know it’s my birthday in two weeks, right?” “Oh! So close already! I didn’t realise”. This was weird of him to say but you decided to brush it off. He was probably just playing dumb to make the surprise even better. “I know, right? I just wanted to ask you to not take care of the cake or candles. I’ve something particular in mind, I’d like to organise it myself. Is that okay? I know you love baking cakes with Jean and Sasha”. “Yeah yeah, that’s totally fine! No need to worry!” he said as he gave you a big smile and awkwardly gave you a thumbs with both of his fists.

Now, that’s fishy.

The days went by, not a sign of your upcoming surprise. Armin had gotten so good at this, you couldn’t find any clues in your shared apartment. Where were all the decorations and baking ingredients? You even checked his spotify and he’d make no new playlists.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit disheartened. Was he not in the mood to plan your birthday? Was your birthday not important anymore? Were YOU not important anymore? Was he tired of you? Did he want to break up and hadn’t found it in him to break the news right before your special day? As those thoughts kept circling in your mind, you realised you couldn’t help it. If Armin wanted to break up with you, he’d have to own it and face you. But you weren’t going to simply let your most special day of the year go by. You’d plan your own birthday and Armin could piss off.

The next two days were hectic for you. You still had three days to go but there were simply too many things to take care of and your life was already busy as it was. On those days, you barely saw Armin, which totally broke your heart. He really should talk to you about it. Even if you were to break up, you deserved to know, right?

You unlocked the door to your apartment, hands full of bags with all that you needed for your party; snacks, decorations, disposable straws and table cloths, ribbons and cards to write to your friends for their presents. Your phone was buzzing all day with texts of your friends that accepted your invitation and said they’d be there. Armin could never plan this as good as you could. As you managed to squeeze through your front door, you realised the apartment was completely dark, a sign that Armin hadn’t been home at all, or at least the kitchen lights would be on. Armin wasn’t home much these days either. Where was he even? What kept him this busy after work? “Ugh, honestly, fuck him. It’s my birthday after all!” you said aloud. While still setting the bags on the kitchen table and turning on the lights with your shoulder, the apartment lit up and you heard honks and popping noises, balloons flew around and all of your friends revealed themselves from behind your furniture, exclaiming “HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N” at the top of their lungs.

“What is going on you guys? It’s still three days until my birthday!”

They all rushed to hug and kiss you, handing you your presents. You were quickly holding a stack of about ten boxes and a few bags were awkwardly hanging from your hands. They all looked so happy though, Eren quickly turned the music on, Mikasa took a birthday cake - the birthday cake YOU’D ordered yourself! - out of your fridge and started planting those fancy silver candles you’d been desperate to find in it. Armin walked towards you and helped you by freeing your hands and putting all those gifts back on the floor.

“You didn’t seriously thought I’d forgotten your birthday, did you?”

“Armin, I thought you were breaking up with me, I was so depressed. Why are we celebrating my birthday this early?”

“Because you were all over my ass y/n, searching for your present and wanting to get this and that on your own. If I took any longer, it wouldn’t have been a surprise” he explained with a half smile.

“Armin Arlert, you’re the brightest man alive”. You let him pull you closer into his arms, relaxing in his embrace. “Happy birthday love” he said, planting a kiss on your forehead and handing you your present.

Needless to say the party was a massive blast, everyone had so much fun! (Even though Connie wanted to make himself the dj). It was the best birthday and it being a bit early wasn’t even a problem anymore. This only meant Armin had probably something even greater planned for the two of you for the actual date.

-after the party was over, in the midst of picking up rubbish off of the floor-

“Wait, did you really think I was breaking up with you y/n!?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You plan Armin’s birthday…

“No Eren, YOU need to be the one to hang out with him! Besides, you’re hanging out together so often, he won’t even suspect! No, I can’t ask Historia to hang out with him out of the blue! Eren! I don’t even care! Figure it out! He’s your best friend!” you said and hang up on Eren. The trouble this boy was giving you. You and Mikasa were practically working yourselves overtime in order to plan Armin a surprise birthday party and Eren kept not doing his part of the preparations. Maybe you should just drop the subject, as he was being extremely unreliable. Whatever you two had him prepare these past two weeks, he’d do it wrong, you were starting to think it was deliberate.

“I’m sure he means nothing by it but you know Eren. He’s like this” Mikasa admitted with a sigh. “I’ll do my best to help you. Too bad Armin can’t help organise his own birthday, right? He’s so good at making things work”. She readjusted the bags in her hands, balancing them all, trying not to have anything fall on the ground.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you Mikasa. Sorry for dragging you to the shops with me on your day off!”

“No worries at all. Armin is worth all of this and more. I’m glad we’re planning this together!” she said and smiled at you brightly. “Let’s just leave all of our stuff at the venue. That way he won’t know what we’re planning. Do you think he suspects anything?”

“I’d be damned if hasn’t figured it all out already!” You felt your phone buzzing in your front pocket. “Oh wait. That’s him! Be quiet!”

“Hey there Armeen! What’s up?”

“Please don’t perpetuate this joke y/n!” he said laughing. “I was just curious, where’ve you been? I thought we were hanging out tonight?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. With this and that about Armin’s birthday, you’d totally forgotten you’d lied about hanging out with him. “I ugh… I’m out with Mikasa. Shopping. Uh… I found some reeeally nice lingerie you might like so wait for me? I’m sorry I’m late!”

“Okay, sure! Want me to bake up those chocolate croissants you bought the other day?”

“You’re seriously the best, Armin! Let me know if you want me to pick up anything on the way home!”

“Will do! See you later love!”

“Y/n we haven’t bought any lingerie. What are you going to tell him now? He’ll suspect stuff if you start babbling excuses”.

“We’re so doomed Mikasa… Let’s go back to the grocery store and buy one of those candy thong thingies? Then I can say I meant it as a prank or something…

-a few days later, at the venue-

“We’ll be there soon y/n. I lured him out by saying you were running late and had told Mikasa, who then told me. I think he bought it! I’ll pretend to be driving by your office building and then I’ll head straight to the venue.” Eren explained.

“Thank you, Eren, you’ve done great! Make sure to signal Mikasa when you’re about to arrive!”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this! Gotta go, later!” he said and hang up abruptly.

“Where do I put this y/n?” Sasha asked and showed you one of the presents.

“Along with the rest of the gifts Sasha, on the big pile YOU built, remember? Why are you panicking?” you gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“It’s too much y/n! How can YOU not panic???” Sasha had literally been running around like crazy for the past thirty minutes or so.

“I would, but you guys have helped me out so much! Oh wait, this is a text from Mikasa”. You turned your phone screen towards Sasha.

“They’re a few minutes away” Sasha read aloud. “Everyone, positions!”

The commotion grew and grew until you were all at your assigned places. Historia, disguised as a security guard, by the front door, Connie on the dj platform (he insisted!) and the rest of you waiting in the main area, hands filled with confetti and balloons ready to be thrown up in the air.

“And as I was saying, this club is the real deal Armin, you have to see the dance floor”

“What are we even doing here Eren? I’m sure y/n will be worried sick if she doesn’t find me at home. We were supposed to spend my birthday together, just the two of us. Why did you have to drag me all the way here and-”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARMIN!” Everyone shouted in unison. Connie started playing his music, everyone was hugging Armin and wishing him the happiest of birthdays, Historia let some more of Armin’s friends inside the venue and (finally) dropped her disguise to join into the hugging. Armin was all flushed and smiled so so bright, he couldn’t believe they’d all gathered up to organise him a massive birthday party!

“Honestly guys, thank you so much! This is huge! How many people have you invited?”

“The real mastermind behind all this is y/n! She planned the whole thing!” Eren said as he shooed Armin towards you.

Cupping your face in his hands he said “Guess the wine and charcuterie will’ve to wait, right?” and then kissed you on the lips.

“Happy Birthday… Armeen! I love you so much”, you chuckled into the kiss.

“I love you too y/n”

-later, while dancing-

“And, y/n, did you really buy that lingerie you were talking about the other day?”

Your face dropped at this reminder. How can you even admit that it’s a candy thong!?

“Well, about that…”

[veethefreeelf]

I just read your jeonghan FWB part 1. It was so good. Thank you so much. Literally I can feel my eyes a bit wet. You have written so well. I also lost my childhood best friend for the same reason. One night we both were drunk and wasted, and we got intimated. Then our FWB relationship started with the same cliche condition "no feelings." Later he left the city due to his job, but we kept continuing the FWB thing whenever we met. And suddenly I realised that he started to care for me too much over every little thing. Even he started to be very intimated during sex, it almost felt like he was loving me. So, gradually I fell for him, and I tried to hide it. But one day he texted me he started to like a girl and they both were thinking to date seriously. I couldn't hide my feelings anymore. I instantly called him and told him everything. But without any hesitation, he replied he just cared for me due to our childhood friendship. And that was the last conversation. Even he cancelled his next week's flight which he booked to meet me. And, many year later, now he's a married guy with his another childhood friend. Time has healed me. I realised we were never made for each other, and I deserve someone better who understands me. But your story made me rethink about him again.

Thank you so much for sharing this with me 💗

My eyes got wet reading your story. I’m so happy you enjoyed my writing and my story but I’m also sad it made you relive some not so happy memories with your friend

You deserve someone that will know your worth and will want to show you off to the world. No one should be hidden and kept a secret or be someone’s second choice or only good enough to sleep with

I’m so sorry you had to go through that but I’m so happy time has helped you see that you two did not belong together and that you deserve SO MUCH MORE

I know one day you’ll look back at those memories with that friend and laugh because you will have the right person by your side and the past won’t come knocking anymore

Thank you for your kind words about my writing. I hope you enjoy part 2 when it comes out and thank you thank you thank you for sharing 💗💗💗💗💗