#He'd probably kill me in an instant

[chronicbeans]

YOOOO The creators of Dead Plate have other games? And those games ALSO have cute but also absolutely terrifying guys in them?

I love him. Where has he been all my life.

[toruily1]

sitting on gojo's face.

0.7k

MDNI

"can you hurry the hell up?" gojo questions, as you stare down at him through the little space between your chubby thighs.

"can you just—sit down" he continues his large hands are wrapped around your thighs, tugging weakly because both of you knew if he actually wanted you to sit he would've been able to make you do so easily.

but he wants you to do it.

he wants you to be the one to finally give in to the pleasure that's calling out to you, all you have to do is lower yourself a few inches and you could be seeing stars, could be experiencing all Satoru Gojo and his mouth has to offer.

he wants you to want to ride his face until his tongue was numb and he was sure the sweet scent of your slick would be seared into his skin.

and its not like you don't want to, its just you're scared.

what if you hurt him? you know you're not the skinniest and what if you get lost in pleasure and don't feel him struggling beneath you?

you were not going to be the reason Satoru Gojo died.

"baby—" gojo coos softly, pulling you out of your head and forcing you to look down at him once again. "you aren't going to kill me. and even if you did, I'd be okay with it because what guy wouldn’t want to go out with the sexiest girl in the world sitting on their face?"

you can't help the snort that falls from you, "shut up" you mumble, but it lacks its usual bite, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and biting it gently.

"i'm serious though, you aren't going to hurt me so would you please just sit down" this time he does pull you down, using a bit more force because he's getting tired of waiting. the instant your puffy folds make contact with his lips mouth he’s sticking his tongue out and letting it drag up and down your slit.

“mmph— fuck!” your hands fly to grab onto the headboard, tightly gripping it as gojo flicks his tongue back and forth against your clit. you attempt to lift yourself up, wanting to hover over his mouth rather that fully sitting down but the tight grip he has on your thighs keep you in place.

satoru closes his eyes in bliss, letting his mouth and tongue do all the work, licking and sucking and slurping at your cunt messily, as if it was the last meal he'd ever have, savoring the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

you feel your reservations slipping away, the pleasure bursting through your core is taking over your body and mind.

it doesn’t take long before you're fully sitting, subconsciously grinding your hips down on his face. once he's confident you won't try to lift yourself up again, he moves his hands from your thighs to your ass, spreading your cheeks and letting his thumb circle your fluttering hole, pushing it in and pulling it out.

the fears you once had are long gone and the only thing you can think about is how good satoru is making you feel;

the way he hums against your clit, knowing the vibrations drive you crazy. the way his tongue slips into your entrance and drags slowly across your velvety walls, fucking in and out of you as if it was his dick stretching you out instead, the familiar tightening in your tummy as your orgasm approaches all too quickly.

"fuck satoru, m'close" you warn him, still rubbing your pussy along his face and fuck he's close too. he's so hard underneath you, his cock weeping pathetically still confined by his boxers, and he's sure just a few more minutes of lapping at your cunt that he could probably cum untouched.

he brings his tongue back up to your clit and sucks on it harshly, wanting to push you over the edge so that he could do it all over again.

your first orgasm of the night hits you like a truck, stealing your breath as your body goes limp, your upper body falling forward as satoru laps at entrance, drinking down every drop of cum that drips from your cunt.

[randomdragonfires]

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife. 

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age. 

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved. 

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love. 

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens. 

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation  clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did. 

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to. 

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. 

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought. 

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband? 

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance… 

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him. 

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them. 

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was. 

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her. 

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get.  Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately. 

How she wished it was her. 

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals.  Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?”  she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?” 

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now. 

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut. 

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger,  it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face. 

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him. 

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these,  he needed a champion too. 

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife. 

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor. 

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit. 

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife. 

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right. 

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron. 

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive. 

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him? 

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there. 

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked. 

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.  

Oh yes, their marriage had grown. 

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either. 

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige. 

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do. 

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own. 

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened. 

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place  a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.” 

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care. 

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears. 

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into. 

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up. 

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?” 

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.” 

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full. 

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind. 

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did. 

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago. 

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria. 

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries. 

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said. 

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored. 

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself. 

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim. 

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such  reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed. 

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally. 

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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MASTERLIST

[slasherx]

Thomas Hewitt relationship HC's

Content: Thomas Hewtt x gn!Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, manipulation from Hoyt, possessive and jealous behavior, brief mention of sex but no actual NSFW, so 17+

Notes: My first slasher fic! Pls be nice, it's my first time writing for our boy Tommy

Lets skip over meeting him for now. If anyone wants to know how I think Thomas would meet and fall in love with his S/O, just shoot me a request!

Thomas would be very cautious at first. Not because he doesn't trust you, nono, he'd HAVE to trust you before getting in a relationship first

He's cautious because he doesn't know how to control his strength around you, and doesn't want to cross a line. You're his first and likely his only partner in life, so he doesn't want to lose you

Thats another thing - he's super scared that you'll end up seeing how much better you can do and leave him. If not for how ugly he thinks he looks, then for the fact that his family are cannibals.

This leads him to be very jealous and possessive. If another man comes near you, he's behind you in an instant if he can be, glaring them down and practically tearing them apart with his eyes

If he finds you flirting with another man, he'll be angry with you beyond belief. Would probably give you the silent treatment for a week, and he's already mute, so that's saying something (I tease)

Probably wouldn't be super touchy, he's been hit his whole life, and I believe the Hewitt's would use physical disciplinary methods growing up, which means Tommy would've most likely been hit by his family too. Nowhere is safe for this poor man

He wouldn't mind if you were touchy though, it would just take him a while to get used to it

He doesn't mind if you don't get along with Monty or Charlie, that's kind of a given, especially if you're a woman or fem presenting, but he wants you to get along with his mother so BADLY

He definitely would not say "I love you" first, he would wait for you to say it, even though he'd most likely fall in love with you first

He'd do anything for you. He'd kill for you, beat someone for you, talk shit about someone for you, etc. He'd basically drop anything for you. Aside from his family, you are his first priority.

This can lead to fights between you and Hoyt. Hoyt doesn't think Tommy should be loyal to "a good for nothing slut like you" above certain members of his family, since you're technically still an outsider

Tommy will butt into these arguments and have your back, but the first time this happened, Hoyt had managed to get into his head and make him doubt you. Yeah, safe to say that never happened again

Tommy wouldn't feel comfortable sharing a room until you were farther into your relationship, and it would take even longer for him to take off his mask around you

When he does finally take his mask off around you, he expects you to yell and scream, to call him ugly. But when you don't, and you even call him handsome? Oh he is melting into the floor

That's when he starts to develop an unhealthy obsession with you. He was in love with you before, but now that he's shown his rawest form to you and you still loved him above all else? Oh he's in LOVE love

He refuses to leave you alone, and this is probably around the time you guys first have sex. He wanted to wait until you were married like his Mama asked, but he just couldn't help himself.

This is getting kinda long, so if you guys want a part two or something, be sure to request!

• ───────────────── •

Here's my masterlist, in case you like what you see and want to request more!

[hells-wasabii]

Hi could you pretty please do velvette x reader who is Carmilla youngest daughter and how her family reacts (plus zestial pls I ship him and Carmilla so I feel like he's a step dad)❤️

A/N: I blacked out and wrote this.... but yeeees LISTEN!! I love Velvette so much, its not even funny and i had a lot of fun with this prompt! I didn't realize how much i wrote for it until it was too late, and by that point, i really couldn't stop. but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! ps i honestly ship them too

Part 1 | Part 2

Character: Velvette

Type: Headcanons + Drabble (Velvette x reader who's Carmilla's youngest daughter, General with a bit of Angst and Fluff sprinkled in)

For Velvette, she actually entered into the relationship not really knowing who your parents were. You never brought it up and she never really asked. It didn't really matter to her, since, ya know, you're the one she's dating, not your mum and dad, or step-dad from what you've mentioned.

Honestly, she should've seen the similarities. They were there for sure, but let's face it, there are so many demons in hell that it was probably just a coincidence, right?

Carmilla also knew you were seeing someone as well, though she really figured that you would bring this special demon around when you were ready.

Oh, they were both wrong. So very wrong.

They found out simultaneously, of course, as cliche as it was. You were on an evening out with Velvette with no clear destination in mind, just simply enjoying the evening and each other's company when the next thing you knew you were face to face with your mother.

It... didn't go too well.

What had once been a peaceful evening nearly dissolved into a turf war all in an instant. If you hadn't been able to separate the two with a promise to talk to both separately later there was no doubt that everything in a three-block radius would be collateral.

Zestial and your sisters would find out soon thereafter, Carmilla of course telling them when they see her come home looking quite distraught.

As stated before, to Velvette, it really didn't matter. though it did sweeten the deal. It would give her plenty more opportunities for her to provoke the arms dealer, something that she already took a great deal of pleasure in.

Zestial would be skeptical of the relationship at the start but eventually comes to accept it fully. His patience won out this time. He's seen more than enough relationships like this go up in flames and he'd never want that for you. He considered you a daughter after all.

As for your sisters, both of them were simply happy that you were happy. They were more worried about how y'alls mom would react. And you can't tell me that they didn't already know, either.

Carmilla on the other hand... To her, family is everything. I mean, she killed an angel for you and your sisters. She'd do anything for her kids, and that includes keeping someone like that upstart from breaking your heart. She wholeheartedly believed that Velvette was only dating you to get one over on her. It really comes as no surprise when she goes all the way to Vee Tower to confront the youngest overlord herself.

"You need to stay away from my daughter."

The fashionista bit out a curse as a needle pricked her finger. Velvette doesn't usually startle easily, but shit, between her being completely focused on finishing and the fact that her workshop had previously been silent save for any sounds that she had been making herself, she thought that even the most stone-cold bitch would've jumped.

What good was the security for if those nitwits couldn't keep unauthorized demons out of her workshop? The influencer swore that if any blood got on the material for this dress she'd personally kill the guards and whoever-

Oh.

Of all the people she expected to see, Carmilla Carmine, the uptight weapons dealer, and apparent mum of her girlfriend, was not one of them. Or actually, scratch that. She was completely expecting this to happen sooner or later.

"Well, it sucks to suck then, wrinkles, I'm not going nowhere." The fashionista bit back, a smirk settling on her lips that quickly fell when the older woman tried to push her point.

"I know what you're trying to do and it-"

"Obviously you don't." All mischief gone from her tone, Velvette set her work to the side, careful not to crumple the fabric. She rose to her feet and began to cross the room to Carmilla, who in turn stood taller, determined not to let this miscreant make a mockery of her, her family, and most importantly her youngest daughter. "I hate to break it to you, but the only way I'll break it off is if SHE wants to."

Velvette paused, her eyes boring into Carmilla's with a conviction and passion that the arms dealer hadn't felt from the influencer before. When the younger woman spoke again, her voice was softer than before, laced with a sincerity that would leave the mother speechless.

"I love her."

Its this singular interaction that leads to a truce between the two (technically five if you include Zestial and the Vee's) Overlords. They would come to some sort of mutual understanding that if both of them were to be in your life, they'd have to play nice. At least in front of you. At Overlord meetings, well, that's a whole different story.

[gale-dekarios]

Favorite thing about Gale Dekarios?

it's embarrassing how long i spent sitting with this trying to think about my all time favourite thing about gale, because there's so much. i like that he's a dork, and sickeningly sincere, and i like that he's a cook, that he loves his not-a-cat, and that all he'd need to complete the ultimate wizard stereotype is a pointy hat and long grey beard.

but when it all boils down to it, i love that he's willing to try, after all of it. he, out of all the companions, probably fucked up the most. and i dont necessarily mean hes in the most fucked up position, i dont think you can really compare what the companions are going through as individuals like that, what i mean is that to go from the lover of mystra, an archmage, quite possibly one of the most powerful people in the sword coast if not the whole of toril, to a dude you have to pull out of a malfunctioning portal, an embarrassing footnote in a goddess's history, about to die, from the orb, or ceremorphosis, or just generally being out in the wilderness as a level one wizard likely for the first time in his life ever, well, it's a lot isn't it?

the only person who could come close to understanding that level of a drop is perhaps wyll, but then again, wyll didn't so much as fall as he took a leap that he knew would end poorly for him, not to mention that wyll was seventeen. not that he'd likely make another choice now that he's older bc he's wyll, but gale, at least from his perspective, can't hide behind the greater good, or youth, from what he did.

gale's at rock bottom, and he doesn't have karlach's cheer to make up for the fact that he's dying, tadpole or no.

there's no way i would be able to keep going after all of that. id find a large field in the middle of nowhere and wait until the end comes for me. but gale doesn't. he keeps going, even though he's pretty sure he's going to die and it's all futile anyway, he keeps going. and he makes connections, despite the fact it could all be snuffed out in an instant. he goes through what's possibly the world's most messiest break up, one that quite literally is going to kill him, and yet when he's told he can redeem himself, to make the embarrassing footnote into a noble one, all it takes is you asking him to live for him to throw all of that aside, his entire past, everything he ever worked for, for the idea of a future that might not ever come. and he doesn't even need to be in love with you for him to agree to that.

he wants to live anyway. no matter how much more difficult is. no matter how unsure he is that he's actually got anything to go back to. he has a tara, and wine, and food, and books, and quite possibly the weirdest band of people he's ever met, and he decides THAT'S enough. sure, the ideas of something greater never fully leave the edge of his psyche, but again, if you ask him to, if you show him life's worth living, he'll then give up actual godhood just so he can keep tara curled in his lap, the taste of good food and wine in his mouth, the feeling of paper under his fingertips, and a room full of love and laughter, in whatever capacity that may be.

it's hard to condense all of that into one word, into one attribute, so i guess what i'm trying to say is that my favourite thing about gale is that he's alive.

[trentknd]

"What do I do?" Trent mouthed in desperation while pointing at the little kid on his lap. You were both sitting under the garden's gazebo, enjoying some privacy from the garden party your mom had organised when your niece suddenly crept on your lover.

You laugh at his sheepishness and shrug your shoulders. "Your problem, not mine." You took a last bite from the meat on the skewer you were holding before getting up to help your mother clean up. "I'll be back soon, don't accidentally kill the child."

"No, no, no. Don't leave me here with her."

"She's not going to bite you, Trent." He turned his head to find the little girl giving him a toothy smile, albeit missing a few teeth. "She's allowed to though." You smile at him before leaving him with the tiny terror in a pink dress.

The little girl, that was around the size of the chair Trent was sitting on, started tugging lightly on his shirt. "Can you play with me, Uncle Trent?" She pouted, her small plastic tiara slightly falling off the top of her head.

"What do you want to play?" He asked and brought his fingers up to place the crown back on top. Her eyes resembled yours a lot, he thought. They were twinkling with a sort of mischievousness and purely melted his heart at the instant. The child could ask him to go to war right now and he'd probably gear himself up for it.

"Football!" She got up from his lap to show him the wee lilac ball she had brought up with her. He got up from his seat, eager to witness the little princess' skill at his sport.

"Princesses play football?"

"Better than you."

"Ah, I see." He grinned at her insolence as she held her head up in pride. "Show me what you got, then." At his words, she put the ball down on the grass and positioned herself behind it.

Her first kick led to the ball hitting him surprisingly hard on his chest. "Alright, let us do some passes to each other first?" When he saw her frown, he doubled down on his offer "Or you can kick the ball in any way you want it and I'll make sure to catch it."

Gathering that she preferred the latter, he held his hands up as soon as the child kicked the ball again. Her bubblegum pink attire and the glittery sneakers she was wearing formed an odd contrast with the force she was displaying playing the ball.

He appreciated her resilience through all the small games and skills she was learning from him. He wouldn't admit to you that he had accidentally hit her head several times whilst trying to teach her to juggle with the ball.

After going at it for a couple of minutes, Trent decided to switch it up and teach her some of his personal skills. "So I'm going to throw the ball and you're just going to stop it with the tip of your foot, okay?"

"Uncle Trent, I'm getting tired." She yawned at his plan, tiredness seeping through her tiny body. He nodded at her complaint and scooped her up to avoid letting her tire herself further.

Her figure was laying atop his upper body, his strong arms rounding her legs to secure her position. He would occasionally bounce her up and down, hearing that it caused her laughter to loudly erupt in his ear.

He didn't notice that you had been back from cleaning for the past fifteen minutes and fell spectator to his attachment to the small human. You didn't want to disrupt them at first, too entranced in his tremendous efforts to put away his shyness to make your niece happy in any capacity.

"Hey, she's not Robbo, you know?" You peeped from your concealed spot under the gazebo. He turned his head in surprise, your eyes matching the twinkle he had noticed in the child he was holding. "Training her to exhaustion at five years old and that."

His laugh reverberated in the small space you were standing on and you stuck your arms out to take her back from him. He reluctantly gave her back to you, waving her goodbye when she frowned at the separation.

You brought your niece up in your arms to cradle her and slightly rocked her, careful not to startle her. Your paramour stood next to you, an arm snaked around your waist, wearing a pensive expression. At that moment, your niece chose to tear him out of his thoughts by holding her hand up, waiting for him to match her action and high-five her. "Thank you for playing with me, Uncle Trent."

Her hand looked ridiculously small next to his, and she missed his high-five the first time before he finally clapped her hand back. His face was curiously intentive at the whole interaction, your heart swelling at the sight of him holding up her hand to kiss her knuckles.

"C'mon my love, we're leaving, yeah?" You heard your sibling scream to the kid in your arms. You walked out of the gazebo to join the rest of the guests, eventually spotting them in the bunch. After dropping your niece in their hands, and chatting out with the rest of the leaving invites, you went back to your beloved.

"You're not so bad with kids, you know." You beamed at him and he mimicked your earlier shrug to argue back in false modesty. Though, other words were put on his lips to mutter when he lowered his head to your ear.

"I'll make sure to put one in you tonight."

[kyouka-supremacy]

This is random, but here's a list of things that aren't technically canon but make official sskk lore to me:

Akutagawa is a trans gay man

Atsushi is bisexual

Akutagawa fell when Atsushi told him “In my opinion, Dazai-san recognized you a long time ago”. Atsushi fell the instant Akutagawa died for him, because that's the first time he started considering him human (the fell first / harder of this thread).

When Dazai told Akutagawa “you know the reason yourself, don't you?”, the implied reason both of them knew about is that Akutagawa loves Atsushi.

Akutagawa is / was romantically in love with Dazai

In his free time, Atsushi reads and often visits the public library (this is canon, but stretching and reiterating)

In his free time Akutagawa sews. He doesn't like reading.

In chapter 87 it was specifically Atsushi to land the blow that killed Fukuchi (and not Akutagawa) because Akutagawa was still holding to his promise not to kill

Atsushi can cook (and he's getting better at it!), Akutagawa mostly can't

Akutagawa has autism and adhd and eating disorders

Akutagawa and Gin live together

Akutagawa is very protective of Gin. He insists that nobody has to know they're siblings, not even in the pm

Atsushi is the big spoon, c'mon guys

Atsushi prefers coffee over tea, Akutagawa only drinks tea

Akutagawa can't cry (disproved in canon)

To their own surprise, Akutagawa is way more willing to touch and cuddle than Atsushi is. Atsushi really isn't used to physical touch, and it takes him a long time to adjust.

Dazai intentionally set sskk up to be the new generation of double black, but didn't predict they would have ended up together.

Atsushi is pretty selfish actually. Way more than Akutagawa anyway.

If they could have grown in normal circumstances, both of them would actually be quite confident people.

Akutagawa's disease was directly caused by Dazai's physical abuse (half canon? I mean he doesn't have it in Beast)

Akutagawa can't hold his alcohol (canon). Atsushi literally can't get drunk (tiger regenerative abilities).

Atsushi sleeps 10pm-6am, (canonly inherited from when he lived at the orphanage, but I shifted it of an hour because like. C'mon. I don't want to curse this guy to wake every day of his already miserable life at 5am). He is the early bird™

Akutagawa sleeps 5am-11am or later (I know it's technically 3am-5am but man I don't want to curse this guy to sleep for two (2) hours every day of his already miserable life). He is the night owl™. I like to think he'd be a sleepyhead once he's found a place he can *finally* feel safe in, which is something he never had, but y'know. Generally this.

Either way, both of them are insanely light sleepers

Excluding external conditioning, Atsushi and Akutagawa are perfectly equal in (overall, not physical) strength. However, Atsushi prevails over Akutagawa in canon because of the effect All Men Are Equal has on him. The same goes for Akutagawa in Beast.

When they're alone together, Akutagawa does most of the talk; which is still not an exceptionally big amount, but still more than Atsushi, who acts strikingly different in comparison to the usual overchatter and chaotic rambler he is with other people.

After they get together, Akutagawa keeps calling Atsushi “Jinko”, while Atsushi will probably shift to calling Akutagawa “Ryuunosuke” at some point. I don't see either of them using pet names.

Atsushi's love language is words of affirmation, Akutagawa's is acts of service.

Both of them highly dislike pda. They try to keep their relationship secret as much as possible.

Atsushi would have been very non overprotective / laid back if it hadn't been for The Incident (Akutagawa dying in front of his eyes). Now he has an hard time leaving Akutagawa alone.

Neither of them have any dating experience

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Could I request III X reader where he shows up at readers house with flowers and confesses his feelings?

Forget-He-Didn't.

iii x GN reader!

Under the cut. <3

The smell of them stops you in your tracks, nose turned up to the sun in an effort to follow the trail. The suddenness in your mid-step freeze gives iii no time to stop before the length of his body collides with yours. “Fuck, sorry love. I wasn't paying attention… what's wrong?”

He lies. He was paying attention, probably too close attention to every step you were taking in front of him, but he'd rather die right this instant then place any of the blame on you. This cheesehead is head over heels for you, and apparently the whole world can see it BUT you. Which is as frustrating for him as it is for the rest of his bandmates and friends, you’d think a 6 foot something tree of a man ogling you at every given second with eyes brighter than the sky would be obvious… apparently it isn’t to the only person in the world he wants it to be obvious to. 

Those same eyes don’t leave you for a second, he watches you in silence sniffing the air like a puppy who’s caught wind of some treats nearby. He can’t stop the smile that grows on his lips at the way you look right now, he finds himself with aching cheeks more often than he’s willing to admit when it comes to you. You’re just so lovely to watch, and right now you’re killing him. Your head turns, gaze pointed across the street and before he can even follow your eyes, you’ve taken off across the road. Leaving him there on the footpath as you wander over to the shops that line the other side of the street. He grumbles something under his breath about being left behind as he steps off the footpath to follow closely behind you. 

“You know you’re supposed to hold hands when you cross the street. Haven’t you heard of street safety?” 

He mumbles to you once he reaches you, back in his rightful place by your side. He’d argue he’s the only one privileged enough to stand there. 

“Oh look at that iii, you lived.” 

You retort back to him a little playfully, and although his eyes always seemed to be cast to you, they somehow miss the light dust of a blush that dances across your cheeks and up towards the tips of your ears at his words. He might’ve caught it had he not dramatically rolled his eyes so far into the back of his head, he’s surprised they didn’t get lost back there. Being playful and cheeky with iii has always been easy, he is the embodiment of cheeky. He’s always got something sly to say, cracking some kind of joke or setting you up for a bit of banter. It’s always been lighthearted and fun, and the way his eyes light up when you can counter his playful snark breathes life into your very being every single time. You’d be a fool not to when he looks at you like that. 

The strongest smell of flowers hits him in the nose out of nowhere, the words he’d had ready to throw back to you die on his tongue when the scent encompasses him entirely. You’ve pulled him over to a florist, his eyes find you gazing lovingly at the beautiful bunches and bouquets of flowers that line the outside of the shop. 

“Flowers huh? I’m more of a box of chocolates guy myself but if you insist, my favourites are forget-me-nots.” 

He pokes at your side with a silly smile etched onto his face. 

“Forget-me-nots? I always pinned you as more of a sunflower lover.” 

What was a silly smile grows into a devious one. 

“You can pin me anytime you like darling.” 

He laughs at his own words, even though he’s being one trillion percent serious. But the way you shove him gently and turn your back to him to hide your own smile kicks his heart into gear. 

He studies you as you admire the flowers for sale, he watches you pick bunches of them up to smell each individual flower, appreciating every single one of them. 

There’s one though, that he noticed right away, that you keep going back too. It’s beautiful really. It’s stuffed with the prettiest blues and purples, the greens from the leaves bringing the bouquet together perfectly. You’ve picked it up three different times to admire it closely, and he’s positive you’ve cast your eyes back to it about a hundred times in the few minutes you’ve both been here. It’s clear you really like that one, but you continue on past the florist and back down the way you were headed before your nose pulled you over here. He takes one final look at it, committing it to memory before following you back down the street to enjoy what the rest of the shops here have to offer. 

“Not gonna buy any?”

iii asks you casually, wondering why you left without getting the one you clearly wanted. 

“Hm? Oh, no. Sorry to drag you over there, turns out I don’t exactly have the funds for those ones.” 

He nods along as you talk, hung up on every word that slips from your pretty lips.

“But you were thinking about it?”

Is he being obvious? He hopes not. Maybe. Maybe he hopes you get the hint and let him down easy before he can risk making a fool of himself. But the idea of your rejection sours his stomach immediately. 

“I was yeah, I love flowers but… you know, I don’t know…”

You trail off there without finishing your thought. iii wishes he could climb inside your mind and read every thought you’ve ever had. Every unfinished sentence. Every fleeting opinion. Every deep dark secret. Every hidden thought and feeling you’ve ever had about him. He’d read it all and he’s not even sorry about it. 

He doesn’t pester you about the flowers any longer. He settles for trailing closely behind you as you lead the way down the street. Weaving through people and families as you go. He’d follow you anywhere. He really would. And it’s now he realises he can’t keep living like this. His place is next to you. Not behind you. He wants to be in your heart and in your head every single waking second like you are in his. He’s silently fought and lost this battle countless times. The ‘do-I-don't-I?’ eating at him for longer than he’s proud of. Sometimes he’s so certain you’re about as in love with him as he is with you, and he’s positive that you’ll be his by the end of the day as he gears up to ask you out. But then the day comes to an end and things kind of just fizzle out, you say your goodbyes and scurry off and out of his reach without even so much as a second glance back at him. He’s laid awake into the early hours of the morning talking about you to anyone who’ll listen. His usual victims being IV and Vessel, they listen to him yap about everything you did that day, agreeing that it really did seem you had some kind of feelings for him. Each of them always confused about why you leave him hanging every time the day is over. He’s convinced himself you’re just worried about ruining the friendship, it quells his aching heart just enough to get him to sleep. Because in all honesty, it’s the same reason he hasn’t made any particular moves on you yet either. For a man that oozes confidence from every crevice of his being, he sure does overthink a lot. He’s thought of every single horrible outcome that could follow your rejection of his feelings for you, the biggest one… and the one that keeps his lips shut everytime… Is that you’ll pull away and he’ll lose you entirely. He’d rot from the inside out if that happened, he’s sure of it. iii has settled on the decision to keep you as what he’d call his best friend in the world, if that meant you never knew his true feelings, so many times he’s lost count. He’d give up the chance to have you how his heart craves, if it meant he’d never lose you. And he was okay with that. He really was. Until now. 

He’s a little quieter the rest of the day, you notice. Because of course you do. And it makes his heart soar that you pick up on these things. 

“Talk to me big guy, what’s going on in that brain of yours?” 

He stomps down on the obvious distraction he’s sporting right now, he throws you his best smile and waggles his brows at you suggestively.

“Big guy huh? Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The eye roll you give him in return does get a laugh from him, and he’s grateful he’s got something else to think about for a few minutes. Even though that something is still you, it dampens the black hole that opened up in the pit of his stomach. 

“You’re horrible. You know what I meant, iii. You’re not present.” 

And he sighs, because you’re spot on. But now is not the time, and the last thing he wants to do is really worry you or freak you out.

“I think I ate something bad last night… somethings not agreeing with me…”

He watches your face contort immediately, despite his lie, you still worry.

“You’re not feeling well?”

You blurt at him quickly, your eyebrows pull together to the middle of your face and you’re stepping closer to him before he can even settle you. Your hands are on his face, checking for his temperature and giving him a thorough once over to look for any signs of possible food poisoning. He has to crack a little smile, the affection that explodes for you in his chest is overwhelming and he swears he almost passes out because of it. He reaches up to grasp your wrists gently in his much larger hands and bring them back down to your level. Not without a quick caress of his thumbs on the underside of your wrists before letting go. Can’t blame the man for soaking you up as much as he can. 

“Relax you, I’m fine. I think I just need to take a nap or something. I’m not gonna die, not without taking you down with me anyways…” 

You huff a laugh at his words, and the little crease that was beginning to deepen between your brows seemingly disappears. He’s happy with that, but he can still pretty much smell the worry wafting off you in waves. 

“You wanna cut it short and head home? I don’t want to keep you when you’re not feeling well. I like my iii’s in tip top shape, you know.” 

He gasps dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest as his eyes widen. Gawking at you in the middle of the footpath, if anyone were to look over it would seem as if you had truly just broken his heart. 

“You know other iii’s?” 

You can’t help the cackle that rips from your throat. His dramatics never failing to get a laugh from you. 

“I… I just can’t believe this. Way to break a man’s heart. You know you really think you know someone. And then before you know it they have other iii’s in their life. I can’t do this…” 

The whole time, he’s got you in stitches. His dramatic, heart broken rambling just adding to the constant giggles erupting from your chest the longer he goes on. 

“You know what, you have a good day, with all of your other iii’s. I’ll leave you to it. Don’t mind me. Goodbye forever.” 

He yaps as he gently pushes past you to head back to the car. You follow closely behind him, picking up your steps to catch up to him. You quickly loop your arm with his and press the side of your face affectionately into his upper arm. Your cheeks hurt from smiling at his antics, and you gaze up at him with twinkling eyes. 

“You know you’re the only iii for me.”

The statement holds more weight to it than you’re hoping you let on, but with the way he looks down at you with slightly rosy cheeks, a big cheesy smile and eyes swimming with something you’re afraid to unpack, you worry for a moment he heard your secret loud and clear. 

“I know. And it’ll stay like that for the rest of forever, if I have any say in the matter.”

He retorts down at you, a lighthearted tone clear in his voice but you’d be willing to bet real money on the chance he’s being dead serious. 

You walk back to his car in a comfortable silence, your arm still looped through his and your face pressed into his arm. He’s fucking reeling above you, can barely bite back the grin that’s begging to break out on his lips. He keeps letting his eyes fall to you, adoring the way you look leant against him so comfortably. He might seem biased, and quite frankly he doesn’t give a hoot, but he swears you'd look so good if you were his. You already do. And sometimes he thinks you couldn’t possibly get more beautiful than you already are, but then he pictures you as his partner, not just his friend and you’re glowing. His dreams and visions might work out to be in his favour most of the time but he’s certain that you truly would glow standing next to him as his lover. He casts his eyes as you reach his car, he reaches for the passenger door and opens it up for you to slot yourself into. He watches you buckle up and get comfy before swinging the car door shut and making his way over to the driver's seat. He doesn't even have a second to put his own seatbelt on before you’re questioning him again.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to drive? I don’t mind giving ii a ring, you mentioned he was home today.” 

For a second there he forgets he even lied about that, he stares blankly at you trying to figure out what the hell you're talking about before he remembers and continues playing along.

“Don’t you worry, I’m well enough to drive you home at the very least. You think I’m gonna let short-ass interrupt the last few moments I have with you today? I feel bad enough I had to call it earlier than we planned.” 

You huff at him, partly for calling ii ‘short-ass’, poor dude can’t help his height. But also partly out of concern for iii’s guilt.

“iii you know damn well I’ll be seeing you again in a few days time. You don’t have to feel bad, just focus on feeling better. I told you, tip top shape.” 

He eyes you affectionately from his seat, giving you a soft smile that makes you feel a little better. He whips the car out of the parking spot and continues on back the way you came. Secretly, you’re fucking gutted. You love spending time with iii, you hate that you finally had a day of enjoying him on his own and it had to be cut short. You know it’s not his fault, poor guy probably feels like shit and he’s still making sure you’re getting home safe. The fact he wants to savour the car ride home alone with you sends thrills down your spine, you had to settle yourself down immediately the moment he said it. You would have smiled so big your cheeks cramped, you just know it. But still, your heart hurts a little. You can’t help the disappointment eating at you, and you’re sure iii can feel it, always so good at picking up on your moods. You silently remind yourself you’ll have him back again soon, hopefully on his own, you love the other guys but you’re a little selfish with iii. It’s nice when you can ogle him with heart eyes every time he turns his back to you without worrying about being caught. Vessel being the culprit for that one, he’s thrown you more questioning looks than you can remember over the time you’ve been in love with his bassist, yet you’ve never tried to be more careful. iii just has you forgetting where you are sometimes. Dangerous even when he’s not trying to be. 

The car ride is mostly silent, which usually isn’t all that weird. It’s easy for you and iii to slip into comfortable silence with each other when you know the other needs it, however this silence feels different. You’re sitting in his passenger seat, eyes cast out the window watching the city pass by as you try to fight off your sullen mood. And iii has crawled too deep into his own brain trying to talk himself out of the decision he’s made, a decision that could make or break his whole existence, a decision he thought he’d never make yet here he is. Both of you too distracted by your own thoughts, you don’t really pick up on the weird silence. 

He pulls into your driveway quicker than you wished he would have, you’re not ready to say your goodbyes to him just yet. It’s obvious he feels the same, usually when he’s got plans with you he’s bounding out of his seat and pulling you out of yours in seconds so he can get your plans started. But right now, especially given that your plans were cut a bit short today, you both linger in his car for a few moments too long. Slowly, you slide yourself out of the seat and shut the door behind you, him following suit and walking you to your front door. He drags his feet behind you, and waits next to you as you unlock the door and push it open. 

“You wanna come in? I can make you something that might make you feel better?”

And your offer is so tempting, because obviously he’s not sick from eating. But his anxiety is ramping up with each second that passes and it’s doing a number on him. He steels himself and shakes his head.

“No thank you love, I better get home to the guys. They can deal with me there, don’t need you seeing me at my worst.”

He offers you a little smile, but it doesn’t do much to make you feel any better. He can see your concern written on your face, he reads you like an open book. Within seconds he’s got you wrapped up in his arms, pulling you close to his chest and burying his nose into the top of your head. 

“I’m sorry about today Bub, I feel awful. I’ll make it up to you I promise. I’ve already got a plan.”

You can’t help the little giggle that flies from your lips at his eagerness to see you again, it causes a happy little smile to grow on your lips and in return, leaves iii’s heart racing inside his chest at the sight of it. He presses a big wet kiss to your hairline and pulls back, leaving you standing at your front door with slightly rosy cheeks. 

“You don’t owe me anything but your health, iii. Keep me posted, if I don’t hear from you I’ll knock your door down. I swear it.” 

He offers you his cheesiest grin, his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches up. He’s just gorgeous, and you’ll never tire of seeing his beautiful face. The sight alone sends sparks down your spine and you have to remind yourself he’s still looking at you. 

“If you think I could go that long without pestering you, then you don’t know me at all. I’ll call you tonight love, pinky swear.” 

He sticks his pinky finger out between you both and looks at you with expectation clear on his face. You link your much smaller pinky finger with his and you each share a soft smile with the other. It’s a very cute moment, iii takes his pinky promises seriously so you know for sure, that even if the world was ending and he was on his last breaths… he would spend his last moments alive picking his phone up and dialing your number. His hand drops to his side and you both stand there for a moment, refusing to look away. It overwhelms you immediately, you can feel your cheeks darkening and nerves eating away at your insides within seconds. You can’t even stop the words before they tumble out of your mouth.

“Alright well, thanks for today iii. Talk soon.” 

You catch the way his face falls as you turn away from him and shut the door behind you. Sealing you off and hiding you away from his gaze, you kick yourself. You do this every time. Every time, after a wonderful day with iii, when every moment has been perfect and beautiful, you can never handle the weight of your own feelings and you quickly send him off before things go too far. The truth is, you are absolutely terrified of losing him. You freak out when things get a little soft between you two and you keep him at arms distance. You feel like a fucking fool every time, but you just can’t stop yourself. You’d never forgive yourself for things going south with iii because you couldn’t control your own feelings. So you always push him back a few steps every time you feel things tipping beyond friendship. You stand there with your forehead against the front door, trying to calm your racing heart. You hear him slowly walk back to his car, you feel horrible for leaving him there. You feel horrible every time it happens. But you just can’t risk losing him, you’d rather make yourself out to be a fool every single day of your life if it meant you’d never lose him. And you’re okay with that. It just has to be like that. 

iii stands at your front door, glaring at the blasted thing like it’s just stolen you from him entirely. There you go again, running off and acting like there’s not something there. You have to feel it. He feels cold. He forcibly blinks back tears that welled in his eyes the moment the door slammed shut behind you, casting his eyes to the sky to try and make them sink back to wherever it was they came from. He turns and drags his feet back to his car, it's empty without you in it. It’s quiet without you around, it’s cold without you stood next to him, where he swears you belong. He’s not doing this anymore. He throws himself into his car and reverses out of your driveway in seconds, taking off back towards the shops you two visited today. His heart is racing. He can feel his palms sticking to the steering wheel and he has to remind himself to breathe. He’s gonna do it. His decision is final. He’s not going to let you leave him cold and lonely one more time without answers. 

The whole drive back his mind is racing. Every single thought, being of you. He can’t help the doubt creeping from the pit in his stomach, up his spine and into his throat. He’s trying to flood himself with positives, thinking about how this is going to work and it’s going to go right. He tries not to, but he speeds down the street. He knows if you found out you’d scold him for it, but he needs to be quick. He’s turning up familiar roads, passing by shops you and him wandered past just a few hours prior. His eyes are wide and alert, trying to find the one he hasn’t stopped thinking about since you visited it today. The colours catch his eye first, and when the rest of the shop comes into view he almost parks the car on the footpath from how quickly he pulled into the vacant spot next to it. He rips his keys out of the ignition and whips his door open, throwing himself out of the seat and almost choking himself out in his own car because he didn’t unbuckle himself first. He grumbles about the bloody thing but doesn’t pay too much mind, he’s got more important matters at hand here. 

His feet hit the pavement and he jogs over to the florist, the same smell that almost took him out earlier welcomes him in now. The shop vendor eyes him curiously, iii doesn’t exactly blend into the crowd. If his height wasn’t recognisable enough, his interesting choice of fashion definitely is. And he’s positive the man running the cute little shop has a few questions running through his mind, partly as to why iii is back so soon, and also probably why on earth he’s skimming the few bouquets that have yet to be bought so frantically. iii looks manic. He feels it in all honesty, but if iii can acknowledge he feels a little off his chops right now he can only imagine what he looks like to a stranger. A bit of panic starts to set in because he isn’t immediately finding what he’s had his heart set on this whole time. His eyes meet the shop owners through the window and he all but bursts into the tiny room, words spilling out of his mouth before he can even say hello. 

“Blue… purple… it was out there before… I- I’m sorry, I just… I need that one, it was perfect I need it I’m so sorry-“

The shop owner can’t stop the smile that cracks at his lips, he turns to the small section of counter off the side, almost completely hidden away by the countless bouquets that sit upon it. Without a word he pulls the very bouquet iii has pictured himself giving to you for hours now. He could collapse. The sigh of relief that leaves him gets a chuckle from the man on the other side of the counter.

“Yes, yes that’s it. That’s… that’s the one thank you.”

iii is almost breathless, the panic of thinking his plan was about to turn to shit has dissipated, leaving him just a few moments of relief before the true anxiety settles in. The shop owner allows iii to pay for the flowers before wishing him luck and sending him on his way. He clutches them to his chest on the way back to his car, settling them in his passenger seat and buckling them in so they don’t roll about in the car on the way back to your house. He takes a moment to himself before leaving, he needs a deep breath and to sort his brain out before he sees you. His hands are trembling now, he tries to shake it off as he puts his car into drive and makes his way back through these streets for the fourth time today. 

The whole way back home he’s shitting himself. Anxiety has settled deep in chest and his stomach feels heavy. His palms sweat onto the steering wheel and he’s constantly having to wipe them on his jeans. He keeps screaming at himself to turn back to his own house and leave you alone, but he just can’t anymore. This is happening. He can’t decide if he wants to floor it back to you to get it over with quicker, or if he wants to take his time getting back so there’s more time between now and your potential rejection. The thought alone makes his throat tighten, he has to force deep breaths into his lungs just so he doesn’t throw up all over himself. He has never felt anxiety like this before. He’s never felt fear like this before. He might seem like someone who never worries about anything more than he needs too, but this could make or break his friendship with one of the best people in his life. If this doesn’t work he’s already considering fleeing the country. He knows how he’s going to break the news to Vessel and the guys, and he’ll be off to hide and wallow in his suffering for the rest of his life. He’s so deep in his sour thoughts that he doesn’t even realise the streets he’s traveling down are turning into the ones he’s traveled down countless times before. He’s on autopilot now, having made this very trip so many times to you he doesn’t even need to think about what way he’s going because he could do it blind. It isn’t until he’s pulling back up to your house that he realises the weight of the situation.

“Fuck… okay yeah fuck…”

He mumbles to himself as he turns into your driveway slowly and puts his car in park. He forces more deep breaths into his body before switching the car off and reaching over to unbuckle your precious flowers. He doesn’t let himself think about it, he throws himself out of his car, pockets his keys and makes his way on shaky legs to your door. His hand trembles as he reaches out to knock on your big wooden door, alerting you of his presence. No turning back now. More deep breaths. In out in out. He can hear you inside, making your way to him. His heart hammers in his chest. He hears the lock click open. His throat closes. He watches your beautiful face peak through the crack you’ve opened up. Confusion hits you immediately, because from your point of view you’ve got a face full of flowers and the most gorgeous pair of bright blue eyes peeking at you from over the bouquet. Of course you recognise him immediately, how could you not. But your hesitation kicks his brain into overdrive and he knows he needs to get his words out before it’s too late. 

“Don’t run. Please. Just let me explain.” 

His voice wobbles and it’s then you notice the slight tremble of the petals he’s hiding behind. His hands are shaking. Your face contorts and a frown pulls at your lips, your first thoughts being that something is wrong. 

“iii what… What's wrong? I thought you weren’t well.”

He can hear the worry in your voice and he panics, the last thing he wanted to do was freak you out or worry you. Although he knows you well enough to know that even if he took extra measures to try and avoid that, his efforts wouldn’t go very far. You’re his favourite overthinker, and he’ll spend the rest of his life soothing your racing thoughts if you asked him too. 

“Uhh… okay look I’m just going to say this all at your face and hope it goes well…”

A moment of silence passes between you both, you allowing him the time to gather his thoughts despite your growing worry with every passing second. And him allowing you to process that he’s about to drop a bomb on you. 

“I need you to know that no matter what happens today, you have been and always will be my best friend. I have cherished every single second with you but I’ve not been entirely honest with you and I can’t keep it from you anymore.”

You don’t move. iii has not cracked one joke or made some flirty comment to you the whole time he’s been speaking, the worry that something horrible has happened hits you and you blurt your words out before you can stop them.

“Are you leaving?”

Your voice breaks at the thought of it alone, and his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. He drops the flowers to his side in shock and immediately reaches for you in an attempt to comfort you. 

“No! No no no, no love. Listen, just… just listen for a minute okay? I’m not going anywhere, I think… that might change depending on how this goes-“

He trails off at the end there and you just can’t take this suspense anymore. 

“Just spit it out iii you’re freaking me out.” 

The panic getting the better of you, again, blurting your words before thinking about how they’ll sound leaving your lips. But it’s clear this snaps him out of it because he looks right at you and-

“I’m in love with you.” 

Silence. 

Now your eyes are the size of dinner plates, but this time they fill with tears. You stand there, stuck in your doorway, staring at him. And he’s staring right back, frozen to his place at your doorstep screaming at himself internally. Begging you to say or do anything. 

“Love…?”

He asks you slowly, fear encapsulates his whole being and he feels as if he’s about to throw up on your shoes. He tries his hardest not too, that wouldn’t exactly get him any points in the love department and right now he’s scrambling for those points. He remembers the flowers he busted his ass to get and brings them up to you. Gently taking your hand and wrapping your fingers around the stems. His own hands trembling as he does so. You look down at them, and you realise they’re the flowers you fell in love with today. You came so close to buying them but couldn’t justify buying them for yourself so you let them go. And here they are, in your hands, with this silly silly man in front of you. He remembered. He noticed and he remembered. And he went all the way back in half the time it took you both to get there and back again just to get them for you. 

“Please say something.”

Your eyes snap to his right as a heavy tear drips down his cheek. This is real. It’s happening and it’s real and he’s in front of you. He looks like he’s at war. His eyes are miserable and his face shows no signs of life. You don’t move. No words come out.

You watch as he swallows thickly, nods quickly in acceptance of his unrequited love and turns away from you. He won’t stand here and beg you. He can’t bring himself to do it. To hear you tell him you don’t love him. He won’t be able to handle actually hearing you reject him. No words are better than words he’d never be able to forget, he supposes. iii is beyond devastated. He numbly walks back to his car and tries to blink his tears away. It didn’t work. He realises now he fully expected it too. He was positive it was going to work, he can’t believe it didn’t. All the flirting. All the special moments. The flowers. Those fucking horrid flowers. It’s over now, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. One thing is for sure, he’ll never look at a bunch of flowers the same ever again. 

You watch him get further and further away from you and it’s like a fire has been lit under your ass. You silently berate yourself. The one fucking moment you can’t think of what to say to him, and it just had to be during the single most vulnerable moment of iii’s life. You step off your doorstep and follow him to his car, your feet working overtime to get you there before he does. He hears it obviously, he snaps his body around to face you, you see the look of hope in his eyes. It’s clearer than the sky on a sunny day for Christ's sake. Fuck you’re so slow. You just watched his heart shatter and it’s your fault. He's fully facing you now, your flowers still clutched tightly in your hand and for a moment he thinks you’re about to smack him over the head with them. He’d let you. He deserves it. He’d let you drag him around by his ear and throw him into the dirt if it meant you’d stick around despite his foolishness. You don’t give him a second to prepare before you throw yourself at him. He catches you. Effortlessly, because of course he does. The confusion on his face doesn’t last long.

You smash your lips into his. Your free hand is in his hair keeping him close and his arms tighten around your body the moment his brain catches up. He holds you so close you’d think he was trying to become one. It almost hurts, but you don’t even care. He kisses you like you breathe life into him after a lifetime of living in misery. He kisses you like you are the only living thing on this planet that would keep him here. He kisses you like he’s spent his whole life loving you and it’s right now he realises you’ve loved him just as long. The kiss is deep. It’s messy and a little bit uncoordinated. You’re both so eager. There’s a lifetime of longing behind it. And the beginning of a new lifetime together hidden within each time your lips press back into each others. It’s wet. His tears slipping down his face get soaked into your skin every time he squishes his face into yours. You finally pull apart, positive your lips are red raw and swollen to an embarrassing level but you don’t have a moment to think about it because he’s pressing more kisses all over your face. He’s hiccuping. He’s sniffling. He’s smearing more wet tears into your face and he’s wearing the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“I love you, you tall freak. God I’m so sorry iii. I’m so sorry.”

You blurt as your own tears fill your eyes yet again. You’re apologising for more than just leaving him hanging back there. You know it. He knows it. It carries a lot of weight that you both definitely need to unpack. But right now you don’t care to, neither does he apparently because he doesn’t set you down. He keeps your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and his arms secured even tighter around your body. Pressed into his chest. Your hand somewhere on his body and your other still wrapped around your flowers. Those fucking flowers. The best idea he ever had. 

“Shut up I don’t even care- I mean I do care, but right now it’s not important we have more important things to catch up on.”

He doesn’t elaborate. Although you don’t think it would take a rocket scientist to figure out what he meant, especially if the way he walks you both back to your front door and right back inside your house tells you anything, you’re willing to bet these ‘more important things’ involve a lifetime of kisses to catch up on. 

“W-wait iii… wait…”

You have to force his face from yours just to look at him properly, this man is on a mission right now. His cheeks are puffy from crying, his eyes still a little red. It breaks your heart yet makes it soar at the same time, you silently think youll never forgive yourself for breaking his fragile heart like you did before. You swear to yourself that you'll spend the rest of your life mending it. Despite his remaining tears, which truthfully, are happy tears now, he's still smiling. His cheeks most likely hurt but you'd bet he doesn't even care right now.

“You interrupt me after I finally get to kiss you. What kind of evil are you? This is killing me. I can't hold on much longer-”

He pretends you've wounded him, acting as if he's short of breath and every second he goes without his lips on yours is stripping years off his lifespan. You give him a light smack on the shoulder, still held up tightly in his arms. His dramatics will never die, so long as they keep that smile on your face. He gives you a look that tells you he is all ears. 

“I thought you were sick, what happened to this upset stomach of yours?”

The grin that grows on his lips is nothing shy of sheepish. His cheeks darken a little, although he knew it was most likely obvious he wasn't unwell, he didn't think you'd be so quick to catch on. 

“Heh, you know, I was just thinking the same thing. Look at us, so in sync already we are just made for each other. I guess I'm cured. Now back to it-” 

You stop him before he can get his wet lips back on yours, disappointment flashing in his eyes as you do so. 

“You are such a shit iii, i was fucking worried about you.”

He winces at your words, and settles you gently back on the floor in front of him. His hands still holding you, keeping you close. He might have put you down but you're a fool if you think you're taking even one step away from him. 

“I know, I know bub I’m so sorry. I couldn't come up with anything better, you would have worried anyway. I told you i would make it up to you, and one would argue i did quite the fucking job.”

He waggles his eyebrows at you like an idiot, because he knows he's right. You can't help the happy sigh that leaves you, nor can you stop the lovesick smile that adorns your lips when you look at him. Yeah. He made it up to you. You don't even need to admit it outloud, the way you look up at him tells him everything. 

“Right, now no more interruptions. We are busy. Say goodbye to your friends.”

His hand is intertwined with yours and he's making his way through your house like he owns the place. You let him drag you along, laughing at his odd words and so beyond over the moon this strange man loves you too. You take one last look at your flowers, before placing them down gently on a table nearby. You can't believe he noticed. Well you can, but he noticed because he loves you. You don't think youll ever get sick of remembering. 

He was right by the way. You're fucking glowing.

[krispycreamcake]

yeeees! Please go for the headcanon!!

From author: Was secretly wishing you'd send this 🙏🏼

If you killed someone in the Sakamaki household

Shu Sakamaki

🎻- Honestly just like every other brother, it heavily depends on who was killed

🎻- If it was Reiji, he'd be ecstatic, kind of

🎻- His relationship with Reiji is extremely strained and that's without him even knowing about him "killing" Edgar

🎻- He'd be impressed that you managed to kill someone like Reiji which initially makes him extremely wary of you

🎻- His immediate reaction to finding out would be disbelief but then escalate into one of satisfaction

🎻- He'd probably say something along the lines of "What would that woman think if she knew you died by the hands of a mere mortal, I wonder?" And cue insane laughter please

🎻- If it was someone less relevant to him, then I'd say he's the type of guy to not care until he actually sees the body dressed up and ready to be buried

🎻- Now I'm not saying he'll go into grieving or anything, but it'll actually hit him that his brother is in fact dead

🎻- Now for his reaction towards YOU

🎻- That's a completely different story

🎻- Like I said before, his reaction would differ and if you really did manage to kill Reiji, he'd be ever so grateful but he'd never say it. Ever.

🎻- He'd probably be curious though as to what drove you to killing him, or any of his brothers for that matter

🎻- He'd analyze the situation in his mind and pick out the flaws that led to their demise

🎻- Realistically he'd care but not for too long. Give him about less than a week to get accustomed and he'll be fine

🎻- He'd never underestimate you again though, he'll make sure of that

🎻- If it was Yui however, then that's a lot more complicated

🎻- If his relationship was well developed with her, you'd be dead, without a doubt

🎻- If he was still in his almostgivingafuckbutnotreally stage, he wouldn't care a lot

🎻- He'd be kinda irritated that you killed his prey though and then Karl would just send another troublesome woman to bother him

🎻- But like I said, if he really did start to warm up to Yui or was already warmed up, you'd be dead in an instant

Reiji Sakamaki

☕- Surprised and concerned

☕- This may honestly seem like a shock to some people but Reiji actually does care for his brothers and has stated that he enjoys living with them

☕- Going off of this information, we can assume he'd be at least a tiny bit distraught even if he doesn't convey it outwardly

☕- Like Shu, he'd want to know your motives and additionally, how you even managed to do such a thing

☕- He'd honestly miss their presence and picking up after them. He would probably cope in some weird ass way

☕- Maybe he'd start writing letters to them and keep them sealed away somewhere extremely safe

☕- Initially, his face would go 😨 and then you'd have to deal with him mourning

☕- He'd probably avoid you realistically until he has thoughts in an order

☕- This process can take either a day or a month depending

☕- God forbid it was Shu that was killed however

☕- Once again, cue insane laughter

☕- Seeing your lifelong rival die is something I'm sure is hard to process

☕- I'm not saying he wouldn't be relieved that his good for nothing brother died, especially since it meant he was now the oldest and had more opportunities opened up to him

☕- But as much as he does hate Shu, it's still his brother and at some point in their lives, they weren't rivals

☕- Now I'm not saying he'll be even slightly upset with his death but

☕- Actually let me backtrack a bit

☕- Imagine hating someone so much because all they do is show you up without having to do anything and in a second, they're gone

☕- Reiji would almost throw a tantrum

☕- Their relationship can be comparable to Joker and Batman in a sense

☕- Let me elaborate on that for a second

☕- Building your life around a certain person and making sure you come out on top no matter what

☕- Having the very reason that you're the person you are today, be ripped away from you is something that's always hard to process whether your relationship with them is negative or positive

☕- Reiji needs to feel the satisfaction of killing Shu so he can translate onto him the years of pent up rage and resentment and pain and hurt and jealousy

☕- Killing Shu would mean to Reiji that you took away the one thing he could've owned for himself without being overshadowed

☕- If you take away the very thing that makes Reiji, Reiji, then he'll lose the foundation for all his successes in life

☕- If you killed Yui however, obviously death

☕- I feel like I shouldn't have to say it each time, but expect to die in some twisted malevolent way

☕- Let's say he didn't have that bond with Yui, he'd still be pissed

☕- Probably lock you in the dungeon without food so you could "understand" the extent of your crimes

Ayato Sakamaki

🏆- Ok so I'm not sure how many people know this, but Ayato is the most sympathetic of his brothers, I'd go as far to say even empathetic

🏆- Now I'm not saying this makes him a morally good person and whatnot, or that he'll cry everyday and bring flowers to his brother's grave, no

🏆- We learn that Ayato is actually quite understanding and sympathetic when he states that he understands why Cordelia did certain things and even pitied her

🏆- With that in mind, it'd hurt him, a lot

🏆- We all know Ayato is one to wear his heart on his sleeve no matter wherever or whoever

🏆- He'll be outwardly upset but that doesn't mean he'll be seen mourning

🏆- To break it down, he's the type of person to stare at the empty seat in the dining room and can't help but realize that chair will always be empty

🏆- Or he'll realize that he'll live long enough to forget his brother's voice, sometimes stand in front their bedroom door, not saying anything and then walking off

🏆- He'll notice how the living room feels slightly bigger when there's family meetings and how he'll never get to shout at that person again

🏆- Due to him being conditioned to being number one, he'll have extremely mixed feelings

🏆- As a competitor, the game isn't fun without other opponents, even if it's a game you know you'll win because then you coming first means nothing

🏆- Dying or in this case, 'dropping out the race' would make Ayato stop running for once and look back at the other players

🏆- That's if it was someone he wasn't as close with

🏆- Now let's say you killed Laito for instance, he'd have quite a different reaction

🏆- He would actually mourn his brother but never let anyone see him

🏆- His relationship with Laito is complicated but not an enigma

🏆- He feels as if he owes Laito something from not being able to help him in his past

🏆- Knowing that he died meant that he failed as a brother

🏆- If you killed Laito out of self defence, he'd be upset that his brother was dead but not because you defended yourself

🏆- Like I said earlier, he's the most understanding and sympathetic

🏆- If he could go into the shoes of the woman who abused and made his life hell

🏆- He could understand why you did what you did

🏆- If however it wasn't out of self defence, like Reiji he'd need to take a while to compose himself

🏆- He'd wanna know why and how and then just sit on his bed not knowing what to feel

🏆- He'd be upset at you if that was the case and you'd probably have to work to regain his trust again(if you want it)

🏆- But like I said, still the most understanding, so he had a feeling you might pull something like this if you started getting pestered too often or showed signs that you weren't doing okay

🏆- And oh God if it was Yui, yeah you're not coming out alive and I know I've said this like 2 times already, but let me be clear

🏆- You will wish he killed you

🏆- Prey or not, taking something that belongs to Ayato is never ever a good idea

From author: Guys it's 2am, I'll upload the other brothers tomorrow I promise, just please don't kill my family. (Ps, I love you guys❤)

[deathbxnny]

Hi there! So i hope you don't mind a sorta specific request but can I request a HSR men (Jing Yuan, Gepard, Welt Yang, Dan Heng, Caelus, Luo Cha, and Blade) x s/o who has gotten their Vision taken away from them

So you know in genshin impact, when someone gets there vision taken. They become sorta lifeless.

So how would they react to hearing they're s/o desperately screaming to give their Vision back (similar to how Scaramouche screams at nahida to give the electro gnosis back)

How would they react seeing their s/o look so lifeless ever since they're vision got taken (kinda like this https://twitter.com/kurolee97/status/1418651048151973889 )

And lastly how would they react to seeing they're s/o go back to their usual self after getting their Vision back.

Again apologies for the sorta specific request, hope you have a good day!

----♡

A/N: Hello! I thank you for the request! I really love the idea! I however limited the characters to 4, as I have many asks to go through at the moment! I hope, I didn't disappoint you by this and you can still enjoy it!<33

Also a sincere thank you to everyone for 300 followers! I am so glad that people enjoy my work and that just motivates me to do better everyday! Thank you very much!<33

Featured characters: Welt, Jing Yuan, Blade, Gepard

Content: Angst, mentions of reader being lifeless, vision loss, fluff, established relationships

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Welt Yang

When he hears you screaming for your vision, he'll practically teleport to your side in an instant in worry. If he catches the person who dared hurt, he'll deal with them easily for you. If he doesn't catch them and they get away with your vision, he'll promise to make them pay for what they've done and get it back for you in no time.

He'll be quite heartbroken and frustrated seeing you in your lifeless state, even if he doesn't show it. He'll make sure to take care of you well and that all your needs are met even in his absence by the Astral Express crew. Welt would just be so upset, that he wasn't able to protect you and the guilt would take a while to disappear, even when you're normal again.

Speaking of normal, once he's able to finally get your vision back for you, he'll be clinging at your side in his own way for months after in worry. He's so happy that you're okay again, but the guilt is just killing him. With your reassurance and affection, he'll definitely get back to his usual state too. He's just happy to have you back.

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

He most likely only heard what happened through someone telling him during his work hours. He never left work as fast as he did that way and would practically bark orders at his soldiers to find whoever took away your vision. Jing Yuan always put your safety before everything, so his stress levels and frustrations were just heightened at the lifeless sight of you.

He'd be unable to focus at work anymore after seeing the state you were in and therefore would take some time off his duties to stay with you. He takes care of you all day and night at the expense of his own health and promises you, that you'll be okay again soo, even if you can't hear him.

Once the person with your vision was caught and you were turned back to your usual self, he was still very paranoid and worried about you for a couple weeks after. He'll make sure that guards accompany you everywhere you go and that you're never out of his sight for too long. He just never wants to see you like that ever again.

-----♡

》Blade

Hearing your screams of anguish and panic would probably make him go nearly insane. He'd be at your side immediately, sword ready to strike down anyone that dared coax such a horrific sound out of you, until he is met with only your lifeless form and your vision gone.

He'd rip apart the entire universe to find whoever it was that hurt you, yet always returned back home to you after a long day of searching to take care of you. He has a hard time showing his affections, but he'll still make sure your comfortable and that all your needs are met.

Once he finally destroys the person and gets your vision back, he'll stay even closer at your side and not allow anyone to near you. His hand would always protectively be at your waist and he'll glare at absolutely everyone in your vicinity. Deep down, he's unbelievably happy to see you again.

-----♡

》Gepard Landau

The moment he hears what had happened to you from the frontlines, he'll immideatly make his way back into the city to see you. Gepard will practically also dispatch an entire army to find the person who stole your vision and will only rest, once he can find them.

Meanwhile, he's absolutely heartbroken and shattered at the sight of your lifeless state. He'll leave you in Serval's care, whilst he searches and makes sure to always come back to take care of you himself. Gepard will make you as comfortable as possible and shower you with love and affection even in your state. He just hopes, that you'll maybe feel it anyways.

The moment you're back to normal, he'll hold you close and apologise for not having been there to protect you. He'll spoil you as an apology and makes sure you're guarded by his soldiers at all times from now on. Gepard won't ever let you get hurt like that again, that's for sure.

-----♡

A/N: I hope this was okay! Thank you again for the interesting request!<33

[hassians-sernuk-boyfriend]

okay so hunting. bc I can't stop thinking about it.

under the cut bc talking about killing animals

okay so. disclaimer that I do not hunt so this is all just from me reading and thinking and interacting with people who do hunt.

so like. deer hunting, in general, is about shooting a deer and then tracking the blood-trail to find where it ended up collapsing from bloodloss. it's not a pretty instant kill and it's not very clean at all.

with a gun, you do a very targeted amount of damage with a fairly high piercing power, but despite that, you still don't really aim for the head, in general, you aim for the lungs, because flooding the lungs with blood will make the deer drop faster.

with a bow, it's generally considered the most humane to use the broadest arrow to do the most damage possible as quickly as possible, but the wider the head, the slower the arrow and the less penetration power it has.

(also, blunt arrows get used for lil guys but I do not think chapaa are small enough for that)

better material makes arrows go faster and bows hold more strength per inch or w/e, and various techniques can be used to make these more efficient, which is why a skilled weaponsmith makes a better bow even with the same materials available

we know that Hassian cares about getting a clean kill and respecting things and etc so applying this shit to The Headcanons

Hassian uses a bow, obviously, and we know he is a Good Shot, he Never Loses an Arrow, and he is Quiet, at very least.

this means we know he uses broadhead arrows and at most, a recurve bow for silence (the more recurved, the stronger the bow, but the the louder the spring)

he'd also want wide arrows + most piercing power, so higher pound of bow strength

if i remember right, bow strength goes from around 20lb for common use, up to around 30lb for hunting, then around 60lb for War, then up to 100lb for long range war, and then up to 125lb? for showing off (this is how much force is needed to pull back the string, and thus how much force is put on the arrow on release)

so probably makeshift bows are around 20lb, while the exquisite bow is, idk. 50? more?? who knows. which is why he talks about needing to master one to get a stronger one

I don't have a punchline for this but I Do imagine he's got a 100lb bow which means he can hold 50lbs of weight per finger if he's drawing the bow with 2 fingers

also imo he's a good enough shot to get the Head Shot, which is theoretically the most painless kill, but he can do it bc of his intense empathy for the animals, which lets him predict their movement enough to aim where their head will be by the time the arrow gets there (arrows are slow)

also a headshot lets him use less broad arrows, which lets him have a smaller bow i think??

also, just a collection of bow details bc im horny for bows

bows are generally left unstrung when not in use to make sure they can relax into their natural shape and retain their power

stringing and unstringing a bow, especially recurves and heavy bows, is incredibly dangerous, especially unskilled. (consider even 20lbs of force suddenly hitting someone in the form of a stick or whip)

bigger bows can hold more power but are obviously much harder to carry around, which is part of why things like recurves and reflex bows exist, so the bow can hold more weight without being as large.

composite bows are bows made of multiple materials, if I remember right. a skilled weaponsmith can make the front, back, riser, and limbs in materials suited to them

things that get used in bow bodies that I did not anticipate: braided cords. antler. leather straps

when you make an arrow, it's ideal to harvest all the feathers from it off 1 wing, because you want the feathers to rifle around in the same direction

feathers and arrowheads are attached with carving, string, and glue in various degrees.

[toji-fushiguro-is-broke]

How you date

How you date

(He picks where you go out)

Dating Toji isn't that hard, this man can survive anything. He isn't that picky.

He can eat anything and go anywhere as long as it isn't boring and expensive for him.

Toji isn't the one who does romantic dates. He doesn't know what that is, he'd probably bring you to places he likes and he thinks that maybe you'd like it too.

...Well, you did ask him to take you to places that he normally goes to and spend his time...

And those places were either dangerous, shabby or unheard of.

One time you both went to a gambling den, he asked you to wear a oversized shirt and pants going there.

You could smell the sweat of different men all the same time, their beer, and their cigarettes.

"I spend my time here, whenever I have no missions. Pretty great place if you ask me."

But you both weren't here for that. You looked as you see people fighting to death in the den as people bet left and right.

And the way people look at you like they were about to kill you in an instant, as Toji looks at them, they look away scared.

You wonder how that was Ideal for a date.

'Oh yeah, I forgot. There's no romantic bone in his body.' You thought as you saw Toji betting for the people fighting inside the den.

*End of Flash back*

*Back to the Present*

This time, you asked Toji to bring you somewhere that he normally eats and relax.

Where it isn't a gambling den or anything dangerous.

You were wishing this time, the place would be decent. You thought to yourself as you continue to follow him.

"They sell the best food" He said as he stopped infront of a shop as he enters and orders two food for the both of you.

The food was super cheap, and it looked like it was made something that wasn't made from real food.

As you looked at your food, you looked at him eating his share happily.

You sighed, and began eat it because he tried to bringing you out, as you tasted the food. You couldn't taste anything, like there was no seasoning on the food.

Atleast it you can tolerate eating the food.

Then it made you think, if this food was delicious for him. What kinds of food did he eat throughout his life.

Why did this cheap food that doesn't even taste anything, taste so delicious for him.

That place last time, that gambling den.

Where people fought to death just for money, that isn't even more than a few thousand that wouldn't even pay for all of their bills.

The thought of him being relaxed in that atmosphere makes you think. What kind life has this man went through that his standards was almost low as if it didn't existed.

After eating, you two started walking around the park. And sat down, looking around the people and family enjoying their time at the park.

"Look, I'm bad at this shit." He spoke.

"It's okay, you tried. I'm happy to see this side of you." You smiled as you looked at him.

He scoffed and looked away smiling. As he looks back to seeing you looking the scenery in the park where there was a lake infront of you with swans enjoying a beautiful scenery.

You thought to yourself, that you'd love him and teach him how to love.

[goldenharmony]

Ruby and Akane: Parallels

In chapter 77, Ruby reveals her dark secret to Akane, similar to how Aqua revealed his dark secret in chapter 52. In both situations, Akane enables their obsessions, thinking that she is doing them a favor when she shouldn't be encouraging them.

In Ruby's case, Akane is unaware that Gorou would be nearing his 50s if he was still alive, which makes me wonder how she would've reacted if she knew the truth.

In my opinion, she would've still encouraged Ruby. Akane's already cool with murdering for Aqua's sake so I don't think ethics is a high priority for her.

Unhealthy Obsessions ≠ Genuine Love

The way Ruby feels about Gorou is how Akane feels about Aqua, being obsessed to an unhealthy and obsessive degree to the person they think they might be in love with. Their unhealthy feelings are targeted towards the same soul but different incarnations. Akane's yandere tendencies flare up whenever the situation involves Aqua.

And while Ruby also wanted revenge for Ai's murder, the main trigger for her to fall into darkness was seeing Gorou's corpse.

Gorou/Aqua - Providing the Will to Live

When describing Gorou, Ruby focuses on how he gave her the will to live, saving her from having self-destructive/suicidal thoughts during her lowest moments.

This is further supported by how Ruby was having suicidal thoughts in chapters 115 & 121 but the realization that Gorou = Aqua had saved her.

How does Akane understand? Because she went through the same experience in LoveNow. When she was at her limit and about to kill herself, Aqua saved her and worked with the other LoveNow members to save her image.

Thanks to Aqua, she got the strength to return to LoveNow and move forward. That moment had a significant impact on her, similar to how Ruby describes Gorou's impact on her.

Returning to Original Location

Ruby and Akane return to the places where their relationships began, reaffirming their feelings. Its a callback but could be seen as them trying to hold onto those relationships when they should just let go.

Delusional Era

Both Akane and Ruby go through a period where they think they will get what they want. Aqua and Akane started dating but Aqua only loves Kana. Akane knows this but she's convinced that as Aqua continuous to lie to himself about loving her, those lies will become the truth - which they never did.

She also believed that the 2 of them had an equal relationship, and that she was saving Aqua - both immediately proven false in the subsequent chapter.

For Ruby, she thinks that now that she has reunited with Gorou, they will get married, not realizing that:

A) Gorou never promised marriage. He said he'd think about it which was letting Sarina down easy because she was a dying child at the time.

b) She no longer sees Aqua as just himself, but is projecting Gorou onto him considering she keeps emphasizing "Sensei" unlike Aqua with Sarina-Ruby.

c) Ruby in a stable and healthy mindset thinks incest is gross lol

Plus Ruby's sus manga panels being over-the-top hammers down the point that she is being really delusional right now.

Conclusion

In the end, the 2 girls are really similar to where I'm sure that Akane would've still encouraged Ruby to pursue Gorou even after knowing he was way too old for her because she can relate to Ruby's feelings, believing that he couldn't be bad for Ruby if she believes he is a good person.

Meanwhile Kana's reaction if Ruby confided in her instead:

And if Mem-Cho tried to argue about the age gap, Ruby would probably say that its basically the same as Mem-Cho hanging out with the rest of them - killing Mem-Cho in an instant:

[00belle00lovely00]

I was checking out the official pics on Twitter and it made me think what do you think a ship between Bubba, Dogday, and Kickin would look like?

YEAH, I GOTCHU!!!

💙🧡💛📘⭐☀️💙🧡💛📘⭐☀️💙🧡💛📘⭐☀️💙🧡💛📘

Brilliant boy x kinda smart x not smart at all

OKAY, YOU GUYS, HEAR ME OUT. HAD A LOT OF BRAINSTORMING FOR THIS SHIP NAME BUT HOW ABOUT WE SAY FUCK IT AND CALL IT ✨RECESS PLAYDATE✨ You wanna know why? Because these three little guys are the 3 types of kids in recess. The guy who will probably get in trouble with a teacher, the guy who just wants to play on the swings, and the one kid who stays in the cafeteria or in the classroom doing their homework.

OH, what if Kickin would constantly be dragging Dogday into trouble and BUBBA IS THE ONLY ONE STOPPING THEM FROM KILLING EACH OTHER IN SOME DUMB ACTIVITY.

Literally, Dogday would be "Uuuh... are you sure this is a good idea, Kickin?" Kickin would say yup without hesitation and minutes later they have several broken bones from parachuting with a bathtub. Of course, we gotta need Doctor Bubba on the care.

ALL OF THEM. AT THE SAME TIME. INSTANT CRUSH. NAH, ACTUALLY, NOT EVEN CRUSH, EITHER OF THEM WOULD'VE WALKED U PTO THE OTHER TWO AND GO "Hey what about we date?" AND WITHOUT ANYONE ABLE TO PROCESS IT THEY'RE IN A CHAOTIC RELATIONSHIP.

Damnit I can't take Drag Queen Kickin' out of my head after that one headcanon....... UNLESS... WHAT IF THE THREE OF THEM WERE- GASP

They gotta have to match shirts.

They're so unintentionally gay for each other, but Kickin would be saying "no homo" while they're making out.

PDA? HMmmmmmm... I mean, Dogday would totally go for it the instance he gets the chance, but pretty sure Kickin is too proud to do it in front of everyone and embarrass himself and as for Bubba he'd be too concentrated thinking about something to even notice it.

ACTUALLY, SCRATCH WHAT I JUST SAID. KICKIN WOULD PROUDLY RUN OUT HOLDING BOTH OF THEIR HANDS AND EXCLAIM "MY BOYFRIENDS ARE BETTER THAN YOURS!" TO THE ENTIRE WORLD.

Their date gotta be something goofy as hell yet extremely dangerous. Either that or, for Bubba's sake to not get irritated by the constant dangers Kickin would be dragging Dogday to, a study session with the three of them.

BRO BUBBA WOULD DEFINITELY HAVE A MUG SAYING "Got two idiots to look after".

Bubba: "We got McDonald's at home!"

Both Dogday and Kickin: "MCDONDALD'S! MCDONALD'S! MCDONALD'S! MACDONALD'S!-"

Wouldn't be hilarious to think that whenever Dogday tries to show affection, Kickin's first instinct is to say "That's kinda gay bro"

Bobby would have a blast with this relationship dynamic.

HELP NONE OF THEM DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING AS BOYFRIENDS 😭😭😭 BROS ARE CONFUSED.

I got nothing at the moment, I HOPE I DID NOT DISAPPOINT

[hollowed-theory-hall]

what was dumbledoes plan if he hadnt gotten cursed by the ring in book 6

Hi!

It took me a while to figure out how I wanted to answer this ask, because, well, I really can't say for certain. The plan he executed throughout books 6 and 7 was due to his imminent death. Everything about what Dumbledore orchestrated for the final two books was built upon the knowledge he wasn't going to see the end of the war.

But, I'll take a stab at this, what do I think Dumbledore's original plan was pre-cursed ring.

So, Dumbledore isn't dying after getting the ring, great, it means he can continue to collect memories about Tom Riddle and search for the other Horcruxes on his own. This is what he does in HBP and seems to always have been the plan. For him to destroy all the Horcruxes, leaving Harry for last.

I think Snape would still be the Potions teacher in 6th year and there would be a different DADA teacher. Moving Snape to the DADA position and getting Slughirn back, was a move near his death, I feel he wouldn't do it if he wasn't dying. (He'd probably still take Harry to visit Slughorn to get the memory though, if a bit later and it'll go down differently).

Basically, all the events would be pushed back. Sorta.

So Harry isn't receiving Horcrux lessons in his 6th year because Dumbledore doesn't need to ensure Harry can keep searching for Horcruxes after he's dead. If Dumbledore isn't going to die, he doesn't need to ensure Harry will continue his work after he's dead.

Dumbledore would not plan with Snape to kill him at the end of book 6, because Dumbledore would conclude Harry and the Order would have better chances with him than without him. So, even after retrieving the fake locket, he'd do what he needs to ensure his survival if he isn't already dying.

So Dumbledore's plan, in broad strokes (since I hit a lot of unknown variables when trying to apply it to canon as we know it) was to find and destroy all the Horcruxes himself. While he's doing that, during Harry's final year, he starts showing him the memories of Tom Riddle and teaching him about Horcruxes to prepare him for the knowledge that he is one of the Horcruxes who need to die.

In the beginning of book 6, we get this scene:

“But while I was at the Dursleys’ . . .” interrupted Harry, his voice growing stronger, “I realized I can’t shut myself away or — or crack up. Sirius wouldn’t have wanted that, would he? And anyway, life’s too short. . . . Look at Madam Bones, look at Emmeline Vance. . . . It could be me next, couldn’t it? But if it is,” he said fiercely, now looking straight into Dumbledore’s blue eyes gleaming in the wandlight, “I’ll make sure I take as many Death Eaters with me as I can, and Voldemort too if I can manage it.” “Spoken both like your mother and father’s son and Sirius’s true godson!” said Dumbledore, with an approving pat on Harry’s back.

(HBP, 77)

This scene tells me Dumbledore is glad Harry is prepared to die to take down Voldemort, that he is thinking about it and preparing himself for this eventuality because that's what Dumbledore needs to happen. Dumbledore needs Harry to be a willing martyr to have a chance at killing Voldemort. So Dumbledore will allow Harry to be more involved with the war in these alternate 6th and 7th years and teach him about Voldemort to build up Harry's dedication to the cause of destroying Voldemort and his sense of responsibility. Finally, after Dumbledore destroys all the Horcruxes, he'd tell Harry that he's the final Horcrux and needs to die.

I think Voldemort taking Harry's blood was integral to the next steps in Dumbledore's plan:

“He said my blood would make him stronger than if he’d used someone else’s,” Harry told Dumbledore. “He said the protection my — my mother left in me — he’d have it too. And he was right — he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.” For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore’s eyes.

(GoF, 696)

Now, what this "gleam of triumph" references is a bit up in the air. I have two possibilities:

Dumbledore knows the prophecy, and if the prophecy is true it states: "one must die at the hand of the other", Voldemort taking Harry's blood ensures he can kill him and destroy the Horcrux. which Dumbledore needs to happen.

Dumbledore suspects this would allow Harry to return from the dead — that Lily's protection in Voldemrot's blood would ensure Harry would survive sacrificing himself, or he at least hopes it will. Theoretically, it would make sense, and Dumbledore is knowledgeable enough to reach this conclusion. Although he can't be certain of it in this uncharted territory of magic. So he'd hope.

It could also (and more likely) be a combination of both.

The next step, for Dumbledore then, would be to ensure Voldemort would kill Harry, and Harry would actually be in on this plan, to a degree. Harry would know he needs to die, not that Dumbledore hopes he won't stay dead. I think Dumbledore would still give Harry the resurrection stone, so his parents could walk him to his death as a last comfort even if he's hoping the blood protection would keep Harry alive.

I don't think Dumbledore really believed in the Master of Death, as in, that it would really make you immortal, at least not by this point in his life. I also don't think the resurrection stone worked for him. He left Harry the legend so he could learn about the wand Voldemort has and figure out he isn't its master, not to master death, but to outsmart Voldemort. Not that it was needed because Harry was always the master of the Elder Wand. This time around, none of this would be necessary since Dumbledore would still have the Elder Wand, so no wand mastership shenanigans. And Harry doesn't try to become the Master of Death (I don't think that was ever really the plan), but Harry would still be the MOD, just, no one would know.

After the final Horcrux dies (with Harry) and Harry returns either Dumbledore or Harry (more likely) kill Voldemort. I think in this version, how that final duel would go is that Voldemort still brings Harry's corpse to the school, to gloat at Dumbledore. Dumbledore speaks to him, calm and collected, and they start to duel like in the Ministry of Magic at the end of book 5. Then, mid-battle, Harry gets up to everyone's shook and joins the fight, so we have a three-way duel, kinda paralleling the three-way duel of Albus, Aberforth, and Grindelwald. Harry is the one who ends up casting the killing curse that kills Voldemort. Like, I just think it should be Harry to do it, and I think Dumbledore thinks so too. In this battle, Dumbledore would probably not make an attempt to really kill Voldemort:

“No, it isn’t,” said Harry thoughtfully. “He’s a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don’t think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It’s almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could….”

(PS, 217)

As Harry said, I think Dumbledore would give him the final blow if he can. If Harry didn't return, Dumbledore planned to do it himself, but he'd wait a bit, to give Harry the chance. With all of Dumbledore's talk of mercy, he is pretty hellbent on killing Voldemort. Super fixated on it. Voldemort is, like, the only person Dumbledore considers it good to kill. He tells Harry it was good he spared Pettigrew, but Voldemort doesn't deserve the mercy in Dumbledore's eyes. So, he would justify casting a killing curse (either Harry or himself) if it's at Voldemort.

And, if, like in the canon book 7, Harry uses Crucio and Imperio, I think he should get to finish the set. He can survive and throw off all 3 unforgivable curses, he should cast all 3 too. I don't know, something about it feels right to me. "one must die at the hand of the other" along with ending the books with what started them — an Avada Kedavra.

(Sorry, I kinda got ahead of myself about the final battle)

But I think the essentials of the plan was Dumbledore destroying all the Horcruxes himself, getting Voldemort to kill Harry and destroy the final Horcrux and then he or Harry (or even Snape) would kill Voldemort. Overall not that different than what we ended up getting.