#I WANT HER TO DO UNSPOKEN THINGS TO ME RESPECTFULLY

[ladyofsilverr]

DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD — 3/∞ ➜ Neve Gallus

[pastlivesxpastlie]

There's not enough ii/iii/f!reader for me. I need more. 🥹 Can I get a ii/iii/f!reader fic where she asks to watch them together as a birthday present but they invite her to join when she does? Love the idea that ii/iii have a switch dynamic and reader gets to watch one dominate the other but then gets the other side for herself.

You’ll be getting a bill from a neurologist because this broke my brain🫶 @adenobabe @inv3ga imagine me mushing your boys together like Ken dolls.

Ahem…*mic feedback*

Switch!Brat!iii x Switch!ii x Soft!FemDom!Reader

Your birthday was this weekend and you were feeling restless. You made some lowkey plans but when your besties, ii and iii, (The Boyfriends™️ as you called them) asked what you wanted for your birthday, something snapped in your mind.

You: Ok. I know what I want 👉🏻👈🏻 remember that little offer you two had made?

In your mind you still heard III’s slurred words one night as you both eyed II across the pub: “If you think he looks good now, imagine him on top of me. Bet you’d like that…watching your two friends fuck, hm? Little freak.” At the time you laughed it off. III was such a kidder and knew not what he did when he was drunk, so what does it hurt to play along?

“Oh, can’t even imagine what you two get up to,” you purr, but the sarcasm saturates your words.

“What shit are you two talking now?” II appeared behind you silently, thus sandwiching you between him and III. The bassist loomed over both of you yet II’s piercing blue eyes was what kept both of you in place. Lifting your chin, II appraised your cheeks. “III, babes, what were you saying to her?”

“That she should watch sometime,” III responded, sounding stone-cold sober. Maybe he was lucid when he whispered those filthy things. II nodded and shrugged as if to say, ‘she should. Why shouldn’t she?’ The only thing you could do was burst into a nervous laugh which caused the boys to laugh, too; the proposition long forgotten. Or unspoken at least. But you didn’t forget. That was three months ago, allowing you 90 some odd days of the fantasy evolving in your head from something simple such as watching II go down on III to being made to touch yourself while one fucked the other. You could never decide who you liked getting fucked more in your fantasy. There was something obvious about III taking II but that didn’t make it less exciting. The thought of II fucking III made you giggle at first, thinking of iii’s legs all lanky around ii’s little waist, but soon it intrigued you…imagining II claiming III. You felt ashamed for thinking about it even though it wasn’t your original idea…the two of them literally offered themselves to you…you were allowed to enjoy the thought. And more than that…you were allowed to ask for it.

ii: are you sure that’s what you want?

iii: that doesn’t mean “no,” btw, dove.

iii: just means we want to know if we should book a room or not 😈

ii: stop double texting and give her second

iii:🖕

You: I’m sure. Saturday night.

ii: one more thing. If you’re up to it, we want you to join. No pressure, honestly. Even if you change your mind day of, yeah?

All week your mind was on its own little hellish rollercoaster. One minute was “yes! I WILL fuck my best friends!” The next was “no. I will watch respectfully.” And sometimes, but not too often, it was “I should call it off. I should be in horny jail.” But when Saturday night came and you instinctively pulled out your little red dress, you knew your mind was made up. And the boys knew it, too.

When you met up with them in the hotel bar, the energy crackled. There was a giddiness about the three of you, and you found yourself being more openly affectionate with them. It started out innocent enough. Pushing iii’s hair behind his ear mindlessly, resting your hand on ii’s arm when you asked him something—all innocent fun. Until of course they asked if you could tie a cherry stem with your tongue.

“Obviously I can. Watch and learn,” you teased. II leaned forward on the table letting his chin rest in his hand, watching intently, while iii crossed his arms.

“What are you even doing?” III laughed, asking what everyone was thinking. This was so much harder than you remembered. “Such a liar.”

“I dunno…it’s kind of hot. Persistent little thing,” II said not taking his eyes off you. You spit out the cherry stem, not even bent much less tied. A rosy blush covers your face as you giggle at yourself. “Look at her,” ii teases as he scoots near you, “she’s a mess. Aren’t you?” You lean into him as you laugh a little too loud. Suddenly iii looks serious.

“Doll. Before you get too faded…”

You instantly straighten up but shudder because II runs his fingertips across your shoulder blades. “What’s up?”

“Are you joining us tonight…or just spectating?”

This sobered you up instantly. You nearly forgot about the end goal here, watching them together or actually joining them. You took a deep breath and looked at them both for a second as you considered your options for the last time. Finally, you nodded slowly.

“Alright,” a wide smile broke across iii’s face, “shall we?”

Moments later, you were being pushed into the empty elevator with them. II made sure no one else was approaching as iii pressed you into the wall opposite the doors. His wide palm thumped beside your head on the wall, trapping you. You didn’t want to be completely passive tonight. You could just stand there and let him toy as he pleases, but it’s your birthday, and he’s a part of your gift. You lean up and gently tease his lips with your tongue. As he lets out an amused huff, he pulls your face forward in a rough kiss. II hums contentedly as he leans against the wall, just watching. III nibbles and pulls your bottom lip just a bit as he breaks the kiss. “That’s a good girl,” he laughs softly. Suddenly he flings you into ii, who captures your lips with a patient intensity. III’s kiss excited you, but ii’s seduced you. When the lift got to your floor, ii’s pulled away, wiping his mouth and looking you up and down.

“You’re trouble.”

You look back at III as he gently guides you to the room. “Is that a good thing for you two…trouble?”

III rolls his eyes and laughs dryly. “I’m always trouble with him, love,” he says as you enter the room. Seeing the soft lighting and comfy king sized bed helps you get in the mood but it also serves as a reality check. You are here! With your besties! And it becomes even more real when…oh shit.

“You’ve got such a mouth on you,” ii growls as he pulls iii to the bed. “Definition of trouble.” II climbs on top of iii to kiss and suck at his neck. III moans softly as ii marks him, but he reaches out his hand to you. He wants to lay beside him. That’s when you realize you’re staring. Gawping. You slip out of your shoes and slot beside iii with his arm wrapped around you. His hazy eyes wander to yours.

“Come here, good girl.” He whispers. III pulls you to him and your lips meet again. You don’t know what to do with your hands but you remind yourself that this is your gift. Make the most of it. Your hand drifts from iii’s chest to ii’s hair. The urge to stir the pot is too strong. You pull at ii’s hair and wrench him from the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. III breaths out a little “fuck” as you and II make out right above his face. II licks your bottom lip playfully and nudges your noses together.

“Let me take care of him and then I’m all yours, love.”

Loud and clear. III let’s go of you to sit up and take off his shirt; ii follows suit, still in iii’s lap. Their kisses are rough, needy, as if they don’t do this whenever they want. II grinds into iii’s lap and moans. “Fuck yeah…fuck…bite me,” ii murmurs as iii licks a long stripe up his neck. This is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and they’re not even naked yet. “Lay back and take your pants off, handsome,” ii whispers. You bite your lip as iii lays back to shuffle out his pants and boxers, his cock springing free. You’re desperate to touch it, to have it in your mouth, but ii beats you to it. He drags his fingertips up the underside of iii’s cock teasingly, relishing in the way he squirms beneath him. “What’s wrong? Squirming away from me?”

“Fuck just stroke it…”

“That’s an idea.”

“You want to…come on just…” iii swipes a hand down his face and grabs for ii’s hand, but it’s slapped aside.

“Hands behind your back. Now.”

III huffs and groans. “Yeah…yeah alright. Fine.” He lifts his core and folds his forearms under his back.

“Looks you have a good boy, ii,” you murmur, finally finding your confidence. II’s smirk makes you want to kiss it right off of him. Finally he starts jerking iii’s cock while staring through you. You’re under his spell, basically eye-fucking him. III is whimpering and moaning pathetically; the only attention he’s getting is ii jerking him off and he keeps looking at you…begging for anything with his blue puppy eyes.

“Babe…babe…take that pretty dres-“

“Don’t tell her what to do,” ii snaps, “it’s her birthday…have some respect.”

III chuckles breathlessly through his moans as ii slows his strokes. “Sorry. Sorry, pretty.” But there’s no love lost, you’re entertained by their dynamic. You roll closer and pepper little kisses on cheek.

“Didn’t take you for a sub, iii,” you whisper. He shrugs as ii takes a little break to fetch something from his overnight bag.

III moves his face to kiss you softly, his cock twitching when you run your hands down his stomach. “I can be…but so can he,” he whispers back, referencing ii. “Switchy, like me.”

Your jaw drops, and a shocked laugh fills the room. “II? Really, hun? You like being thrown around a little…told what to do?”

“He so does. Honestly, one time…with IVy of all peop-“ but iii doesn’t get to finish. II puts his hand over iii’s mouth, muffling his mischievous snicker.

“Runs his mouth too much. Love, show me how you’d shut him up,” ii says with a cocked eyebrow.

You take your cue to slip off the bed and undress. They both watch you in reverence. If iii didn’t have his brat mouth covered, it would have been agape. “II,” you purr, “take your hand off my seat.” II moves his hand, and iii exclaims ‘oh fuck yes,’ as you straddle his face. Since his arms are still tucked behind him, you press your desperate pussy to his mouth. Your palms press into his tummy as he laps at your clit. You can’t help the slutty noises he’s pulling from you. II has slipped out of his clothes and positions himself between iii’s legs. He’s brought a small bottle of lube with him. “Are…are you gonna fuck him,” you ask…or at least try. It’s hard when you’ve got a tongue prying at your slit and two hard throbbing cocks before you.

II squirts the liquid in his palm and pumps iii with a renewed lust. “Hah…no, no. This cock is yours first.” Poor iii doesn’t last long with your pussy gushing against his lips and ii’s deft touches. Your eyes roll back as iii moans into your pussy. “Alright, love, hop off.” You roll off and watch as the two of team meet in a hot, passionate kiss. III undoubtedly stiff arms wrap around ii and hold him like he’s the most precious thing.

“Taste her on me, babe?” iii whispers against ii’s mouth. II nods with a dumb little smile and playfully licks at iii’s mustache. “Alright…hopping in the shower.”

“Aw…but…” you pout.

“I’ll be back, doll. Don’t worry.” III chuckles as he saunters into the bathroom, leaving you and ii on the bed. As if it has to be a secret, you both sit silently until you hear the shower run. II is immediately on you, groping your tummy and breasts as he kisses at your neck. Your eyes roll back as breathy pants leave your lips. Your chest heaves as his mouth greedily works down to your breasts.

“Be a good boy for me…hm?” Your finger gently tilts his chin up. “C’mere…” He’s a goner as your lips rub up against his. They’re so puffy from kissing iii. “You’ve been good haven’t you…waiting your turn…haven’t even touched yourself.”

“Heh, stop,” he saying looking away with the sweetest blush. “Where’d this Mommy act come from, hm?” He peppers your cheek with kisses as he whispers.

“It’s not an act,” you whisper as you adjust his cock to slide in. III got you beyond wet enough for ii, so only a gentle nudge was needed for him to go in fully. II’s head falls forward with a low groan. “Let me see you…” your hand now rests firmly under his jaw, wrapped around his neck. He grins like any subby good boy would when your fingers flex. “There he is…eyes on me…” His eyes are dreamy and hazy as they flutter shut or roll back as his cock twitches inside of you. You squirm a little just to get comfy and enjoy teasing him as your bodies writhe against one another.

“Please,” he whimpers. He’s getting impatient.

“You want to cum so soon?” You question mocking pout.

“I…fuck…I can cum again later. Just please….”

His sweet puppy eyes glisten as he bites his lip, practically whining. His adam’s apple bobs against your palm but he doesn’t break. “Show me how happy this makes you…” He shudders and slowly thrusts. His body wants to slump forward but your grip holds him steady. “You want to cum before he gets back in here? Hm?” II nods quickly and squeezes his eyes shut, the overall excitement from the night and your tight softness overstimulating him. “Heh yeah…just for me and my good boy…I’m going to let go of you now—“

“No please…please keep it there…feels so good…so good for you…” he begs. “Just a little harder…” When you squeeze a little harder, a fire lights in II. He fucks you fast and rough trying to play this little game where you have to finish before iii comes out. His lips form a little pout, dying for a kiss. You can’t resist that. Instead of letting him move, you lean up and capture his lips. He moans against your mouth as the first kiss makes him lose it. You move your hand to let him breathe as he cries out against your chest.

II is still nestled against your chest, and in your pussy, when iii comes out of the steamy bathroom…already rock hard again. “Alright, loves…who’s next?”

[newobsessionweekly]

Puppy Bradford

part 1

Main Masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You consider fostering Charlie after his mom's passing, but things don't always go as planned, they are better when Tim proposes to you.

Fluff

Requested: yes

Words: 4k

The weeks after Charlie's initial stay at your home saw a transformation none of you anticipated. Tim's grumpiness was gradually replaced by a quieter acceptance, and Charlie began to see you both as the support system he desperately needed.

"Hey, Y/N," Charlie called one evening, the excitement in his voice palpable through the phone. "I got an A in Geometry!"

You smiled, pride swelling in your chest. "That's amazing, Charlie! I knew you could do it. Tim's going to be so proud when he hears."

"Yeah, he really helped me study," Charlie admitted, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Can you tell him I said thanks?"

"Of course, sweetheart. He'll be thrilled," you replied, glancing at Tim, who was engrossed in a football game. You nudged him playfully, and he glanced at you with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Charlie got an A in Geometry."

Tim's face softened, a rare look of pride shining in his eyes. "That's great. Tell him good job and to keep it up."

This became a regular occurrence. Charlie called you often, updating you on his progress at school, sharing his successes and his struggles. Each conversation filled your heart with a sense of purpose and joy, knowing you were making a difference in his life. Tim, too, found himself eagerly awaiting these updates, though he tried to mask his growing affection with his usual gruff exterior.

"Hey, Y/N, guess what?" Charlie's voice crackled through the phone one afternoon. "I made the basketball team!"

"That's fantastic, Charlie!" you exclaimed, "We'll have to come to your first game."

"Really? You and Tim would come?" His surprise and joy were evident.

"Absolutely. We're your biggest fans."

Tim and you make it a point to visit the hospital every few days, ensuring that Charlie and his mom, Lisa, have everything they need. The sterile smell of antiseptic and the quiet hum of medical equipment become familiar as you navigate the hallways.

Every time you walk in, the air feels heavy with unspoken words and lingering fears. Lisa's frail frame lies against the pillows, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you. Charlie hovers by her side, offering what comfort he can.

"Y/N, Tim, you didn't have to come again," she would say, her voice frail but warm.

"We want to," you would reply gently, setting down a basket of fresh fruits and some books. "You're part of our family now."

Tim would give her a reassuring nod, his eyes softening as he took in the scene. "Is there anything you need, Lisa?" he'd ask, always ready to lend a hand.

Her gratitude was palpable, her eyes brimming with tears at the kindness you both showed. "You two are a godsend," she'd whisper, "I don't know what we would have done without you."

You'd sit by her side, holding her hand, feeling the frailty of her grip. "We're here for you, Lisa. For both of you."

"I can't thank you enough for everything you're doing. Knowing Charlie has you two... it makes this a little easier." Lisa said softly.

Tim, standing at the foot of the bed, nodded respectfully, "We're happy to help. Charlie's a good kid. He deserves the best."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked between the two of you.

"I've made peace with what's coming. Knowing my son won't be alone, that he has you both... I can go in peace. Thank you."

You squeezed her hand gently, your heart aching at her words. "We'll take care of him. You have our word."

The phone rang late one night, jarring you awake. Groggily, you reached for it, your heart dropping as you saw Charlie's name on the screen.

"Charlie?" you answered, your voice thick with sleep and concern.

"Y/N... it's Mom. She's... she's..." he said, his voice breaking.

You sat up, your heart aching. "Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry. Tim and I are on our way, okay?"

Tim is already moving, grabbing his keys and your jackets. "Let's go."

The drive to the hospital was silent, the weight of the news heavy in the air. When you arrived, you rushed through the hospital corridors, finding Charlie sitting alone in the waiting area, his face pale and eyes red from crying.

"Charlie," you called softly, moving towards him with Tim close behind.

He looked up, his face crumpling with relief and grief at the sight of you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, your heart breaking for the young boy.

"We're so sorry," you whispered, holding him close. "We're here for you."

Tim knelt down beside you, placing a comforting hand on Charlie's back. "I'm so sorry, kid," he said, "We're going to get through this together, okay?"

Tim exchanged a glance with you, silently communicating his thoughts. He then turned back to Charlie, "How about you come home with us tonight? Dinner's ready, you can get some rest. We'll come back in the morning."

Charlie looked between the two of you, uncertainty and exhaustion evident in his eyes. "I don't want to leave her," he said, his voice trembling.

"We get that," you replied softly. "But we want you to be safe and taken care of. We'll come back first thing in the morning. Your mom would want you to take care of yourself too."

Tim nodded, "She's right, Charlie. It's important you stay strong and healthy. We’ll call the school in the morning and let them know you’ll be taking a few days off."

Charlie hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay," he whispered, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his grief. "Thank you."

The days turned into weeks, and Charlie had become a permanent fixture in your home. His presence brought a sense of warmth and life to the house, despite the somber circumstances that had brought him there.

You and Tim did everything you could to make him feel welcome and loved, supporting him through the funeral and the tough days that followed.

"Hey, Charlie, want to help me with dinner?" you called out one evening, poking your head into the guest room that slowly turned into his own.

Charlie looked up from his homework, "Sure. I'll be right there."

As he joined you in the kitchen, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride watching him chop vegetables.

"You're getting pretty good at this," you remarked, handing him a bowl to mix the ingredients.

He grinned, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Thanks. Tim's been showing me some tricks."

Your boyfriend wandered into the kitchen just then, a tired but contented smile on his face. "Smells good in here," he commented, leaning against the counter.

You smiled back at him, a warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him. "Charlie's been a big help," you said, nodding towards the boy beside you.

Tim's smile widened, and he ruffled Charlie's hair affectionately. "Good job, buddy," he said proudly.

Later that evening, as you and Tim sat together on the couch, you couldn't shake the thought that Charlie's stay with you might be more permanent than originally planned. You turned to Tim, the question weighing heavily on your mind.

"What's going to happen to Charlie?"

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, he's a minor, so he'll probably be put into foster care," he explained, his expression grim.

You frowned, the thought of Charlie being sent to a foster home unsettling. "But he's been through so much already," you protested. "He shouldn't have to go through even more trouble."

Tim nodded in agreement, his brow furrowing, "I already talked to Social Services," he admitted. "They said the judge will likely consider foster care over emancipation."

You chewed your lip, mulling over his words. "What if... what if we fostered him?" you suggested tentatively.

His eyes widened in surprise, and he looked at you, his expression unreadable. "Foster him?" he repeated, as if trying the idea on for size.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yeah. We've been with him through everything, Tim. We care about him. What do you think?"

He contemplated for a moment, his gaze distant. Then, to your surprise, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You know what? That's not a bad idea," he admitted.

You couldn't help but smile, "Timothy, I never thought I'd see the day when you wanted to foster a teenager," you teased, nudging him playfully.

Tim rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "Hey, I have a heart, you know," he replied, his tone gruff but affectionate.

You laughed, leaning in closer to him. "I know," you said softly, reaching for his hand. "And it's one of the things I love most about you."

His expression softened, his gaze warm as he looked at you. "I see Charlie as a son I always wanted," he admitted, "And I think we can give him a good home."

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. "I think so too," you agreed, feeling a swell of gratitude and love for the man sitting beside you.

Tim leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll talk to Grey and Luna in the morning," he said, his voice filled with determination. "Luna can help us with the process of becoming foster parents."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. Leaning into his embrace, Tim held you close, his arms strong and reassuring.

Next morning, as the three of you gathered around the table for breakfast, an unspoken tension filled the air. Tim focused on flipping pancakes, while you tried to find the right words to broach the subject with Charlie. The smell of fresh coffee and syrup filled the kitchen, but the comforting scents did little to ease the anxiety gnawing at you.

"We wanted to talk to you about something," you began, meeting Charlie's gaze across the table. Your voice was calm, but your heart raced.

Charlie nodded, his expression guarded. "Okay," he said softly, his tone wary.

"You've been staying here for a week now, and..." you trailed off, searching for the right words.

"And you want me to go," Charlie interjected, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I bothered you enough."

Tim turned off the stove and wiped his hands on a dish towel before stepping over to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning forward with a serious expression. He placed a hand on your back and another on Charlie's shoulder.

"No, buddy," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "We want you to stay here with us."

Charlie looked at both of you, surprise and confusion flickering in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"We know how hard this is for you," you continued softly. "Losing your mom... it's not something anyone should go through alone. We want to help you, Charlie. We want you to finish high school, have a good future."

"We know the foster care system can be rough," Tim said, his gaze steady on Charlie. "And legally, you'd be put into a foster home. But we want to be those foster parents. If you want that too."

Charlie's expression hardened, his grief morphing into anger. "Why do you even care?" he snapped. "You don't know me. You think you can just replace my mom?"

"We're not trying to replace anyone," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We just want to help."

"Help?" Charlie scoffed, "You think I'm just some kid you can take pity on?" he spat, his voice laced with bitterness.

Tim's jaw clenched, his expression tight with frustration. "That's not what we think, kid," he said firmly, his voice unwavering. "We care about you."

But Charlie wasn't listening. He pushed his chair back abruptly, the screech of metal against tile echoing through the room. "I don't need your help," he said bitterly, his tone final. "I can take care of myself."

You watched helplessly as Charlie stormed out of the house, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized that your efforts had been in vain. You turned to Tim, your eyes pleading for understanding.

Tim placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, pulling you into a tight embrace. "We tried," he said softly, his voice filled with sorrow. "We did everything we could."

You nodded, unable to find the words to express your grief. The loss of Charlie felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, suffocating you with its intensity. You buried your face in Tim's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

"I thought we could help him," you whispered.

His hand moved up to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I know," he said softly. "I know."

As Tim prepared to leave for work, you stood in the hallway, your heart heavy with the weight of the morning's events. He turned to face you, his expression tender and filled with understanding.

"Hey..." you called out.

Tim stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. "I know," he said simply, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. "I'll keep an eye on him."

You clung to him, finding solace in his strength. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim pulled back slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We'll figure this out."

Weeks passed, and Charlie found himself shuffled from one foster family to another, never quite fitting in. Each new home brought fresh disappointment and the deepening sense that he didn't belong anywhere.

You and Tim dedicated yourselves to the process of becoming foster parents. The paperwork was extensive and the wait felt endless, but you both knew it was worth it.

Tim reached out to his ex-girlfriend Rachel—who worked for CPS — and with her help, he managed to keep an eye on Charlie's progress. What he saw only confirmed his fears: Charlie was not adjusting well to his new life.

"How's Charlie doing?" Lucy asked, breaking the comfortable silence. "And how's Y/N holding up with everything?"

Tim tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road. "Not great," he admitted. "When we told Charlie about the foster care system and that we wanted to be his foster parents, he didn't take it well. He's been bouncing from one family to another, and none of them seem to be a good fit for him."

"He'll come around," she said softly. "Whether you like to admit it or not, the kid has a place under your skin and vice versa. He's just hurting right now. He'll come back asking for help when he's ready."

"Yeah, tell that to Y/N. Maybe she'll listen to you." Tim sighed, a heavy sound filled with frustration and worry. "I don't like seeing her so sad because of some puppy. I don't want to tell her 'I told you so,' but I did tell her it might not be a good idea to get involved with him."

Lucy gave him a sympathetic smile. "Tamara did the same, and now she's the best roommate I've ever had."

Tim chuckled softly, "Jackson would disagree with you."

"Bradford, someone's asking for you at the front desk."

Grey approached them as soon as they walked back into the station. Tim watched Lucy process the suspect before he headed out to meet his visitor. With a nod of acknowledgment, he made his way to the front desk, his steps quick and purposeful.

Tim's heart skipped a beat when he saw Charlie standing there, his posture tense and his expression uncertain. Charlie stood up quickly as Tim approached, his eyes avoiding Tim's gaze.

"Officer Bradford," Charlie began, his voice trembling. "I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you and Y/N. I'm sorry and I'm sorry for running away.

Tim's expression softened, his heart going out to the troubled teenager before him.

"Charlie," he said gently, his voice carrying a note of compassion. "It's just Tim."

The boy's eyes flickered with surprise, a hint of relief washing over him.

"Tim," he echoed softly.

Tim placed a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder, the gesture conveying more than words ever could.

"Kid, I understand," he said,"We all have our moments. But you're not alone in this."

Charlie's gaze dropped, his guilt weighing heavily on him. "I'm just so tired of feeling like a screw-up," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to do better."

Tim nodded understandingly, his grip on his shoulder tightening ever so slightly. "You can, Charlie," he said firmly, his voice brimming with conviction. "But you're right, there's someone else you need to apologize to."

Charlie's breath caught in his throat, the weight of his actions settling heavily on his shoulders. "Y/N," he whispered, the name a painful reminder of the hurt he had caused.

Tim nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Y/N cares about you, Charlie," he said, his voice filled with reassurance. "We both do. And we're not giving up on you."

A flicker of hope ignited in Charlie's eyes, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You still want to help me?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Tim returned the smile, a sense of resolve settling over him. "We're not here to judge you. We want to help you. If you're willing to put in the effort, we'll be there every step of the way."

Charlie looked up at Tim, his eyes shimmering with gratitude and hope. "Thank you," he whispered, "Thank you for not giving up on me. I... I would be beyond grateful if you still want to help me. If you don't hate me."

"We don't hate you, Charlie," he said firmly, "And we're not going anywhere."

The familiar scent of your cooking filled the room, providing a sense of comfort and normalcy. As your boyfriend and Charlie stepped inside, Tim saw you setting up the table for dinner, arranging two sets of everything with meticulous care. The clinking of plates and silverware was a soothing, everyday sound that contrasted with the emotional whirlwind outside.

"Hey, baby," Tim greeted softly, his voice carrying the warmth of a long day finally coming to an end.

He walked over to you and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. You leaned into the kiss, savoring the brief moment of connection. The touch of his lips was reassuring, grounding you in the present.

Tim then turned his attention to the table and added, "You might want to make three of that."

You looked up, curiosity in your eyes. "Who's joining us?" you asked, looking at Tim's expression for clues.

Tim didn't answer immediately but instead pointed to the door where Charlie stood hesitantly, his posture tense and uncertain. Your face fell, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked back and forth between Charlie and Tim, trying to process what was happening. The emotional impact of seeing Charlie there, vulnerable and seeking solace, hit you like a wave.

You walked towards Charlie, your heart pounding in your chest. Each step felt heavy with the weight of the past weeks. As you reached him, you enveloped him in a warm, tight hug, your arms wrapping around him protectively.

"It's so good to see you, Charlie." You could feel Charlie's shoulders relax a little under your touch. "Come on, let's eat before it gets cold."

You settled at the table, and Charlie's face lit up at the sight of your delicious food. He took a deep breath, the familiar aromas bringing a sense of peace.

"I missed this so much." The words seemed to break the ice, melting some of the tension in the room.

"You're welcome here whenever you want," you replied warmly, your eyes shining with kindness. You reached across the table, gently squeezing his hand.

"Or," Tim interjected, "you can just stay here with us."

"Tim..." you began, surprised by his straightforwardness. You turned to him, eyes wide with shock and a hint of hope.

"I'd love that," Charlie said, cutting through your hesitation with a hopeful smile.

"What?" you asked, stunned.

"Look, Y/N, I'm so sorry for snapping at you," Charlie confessed, his voice sincere and eyes downcast. "I shouldn't have said those things to you. After everything you've done for me, you deserve better." His voice wavered with the weight of his regret.

You gently took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Oh, sweetheart. You had a rough time, and I understand that. We understand that. We're here if you need to talk, whenever you're ready."

Charlie took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "Actually, I was hoping I could stay here with you guys. Tim told me about the fostering process, and I was hoping it was still a thing."

You looked at Tim, your eyes wide with shock and hope. When he smiled and nodded, a wide smile spread across your face.

"Yes, of course."

Charlie hugged you tightly, and you felt his relief and gratitude in the embrace. Tears of joy streamed down your face as you held him, your heart swelling with emotion. The warmth of the hug conveyed all the unsaid words and feelings.

Tim cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. "Actually," he said, "I was thinking adoption would be a better option."

"Are you serious?" you asked, your voice filled with disbelief, turning to look at Tim with wide eyes.

"Yes," Tim confirmed, reaching into his pocket.

You watched him with bated breath as he pulled out a small box. Your eyes searched his for answers, your heart pounding in your chest.

"What's this? Tim? What are you doing?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Tim took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. "I thought maybe it was best all three of us to share the same last name. I never imagined adopting a teenager, especially not one I arrested. But you, baby, you make me want to be a better man. And I can't do any of this without you. You showed me the bright side of this world, and you light up my life. Will you marry me? Because this kid's life is in your hands, and I don't want to do this without you 100% in."

"Yes, Tim. Oh, God, yes!" you exclaimed, tears of joy streaming down your face as Tim slipped the ring onto your finger and the touch of the cool metal sent a shiver down your spine.

"You're such a jerk," you teased, laughing through your tears as you playfully swatted his arm. "You almost ruined a beautiful moment."

"I just made sure you'd say yes," Tim retorted with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. His hand lingered on your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear.

Charlie grinned, the tension easing as he watched the exchange. "Do I need to call you mom and dad or something?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, no, no," you laughed, shaking your head. "I'm too young to be called a mom. But if you want to..."

"I think I'm good," Charlie said, smiling with a mix of relief and happiness.

"But you can call me Officer Bradford," Tim added, his tone teasingly gruff as he gave Charlie a playful nudge.

"Oh, stop it. Leave the kid alone," you said, nudging Tim back. "He's joking, Charlie. You need to get used to his bad jokes."

Tim grumbled, "You should be glad I'm not into dad jokes like Nolan."

"And that's why you should never call him dad," you quipped to Charlie with a grin.

"Roger that," Charlie responded, chuckling as he settled back into his seat.

[flightlessangelwings]

What Was Unspoken, And What We Finally Said

Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word count-3.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), sexworker reader (respectfully), mutual pining, reader is said to have been with both men and women but her sexuality is up to you, unprotected sex, hj, finering, oral (f receiving), protective!Din, soft!Din, feelings, no description of reader other than body parts and no use of y/n

Notes- This is part a bonus Valentines fic and part a thank you for 5,000 followers fic! I would have liked to do a full follower celebration but since I'm low on writing time lately, I'm doing 2 gift fics for y'all instead. I just want to say thank you each and every one of you for following and supporting me all these years!

Since this is Star Wars, I looked up if there was anything like Valentine's Day and while there isn't one canonically, there is a "Lover's Day" that the fandom kinda agreed is equivalent so I used that here but it can be read any time of year since it's Star Wars and we can say it's any time lol! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

~

You were exhausted.

If you were honest, you weren’t even sure what day it was… or even what time of day at all. Things had never been busier at the brothel the last couple days, and you weren’t sure why. Especially today it was back to back clients for you. The extra credits were nice, and much needed, but by the Maker were you wiped out. But it wasn’t all bad. The brothel you worked at was safe and respectable and the clients almost always tipped well. You even had a lengthy list of regulars, which was nice. Many of them even came by today too.

The day started with a visit from one of your favorite bounty hunters, Fennec Shand. She was usually more quiet and stoic, but today she had an air of playfulness about her, and the smirk she wore on her face made your heart flutter. Later in the day, Axe Woves came by, and seemed more flirtatious than usual. He always left you with a wink and a kiss on the back of your hand, but today he left a lingering kiss on your cheek… and extra credits in tip. 

But there was one person you looked forward to seeing more than anyone else. And he hadn’t come by in some time. 

You let out a heavy sigh as you flopped down onto the bed. Wrapping your robe around yourself, you closed your eyes as you finally got some time to rest after a busy day. Just as your body relaxed into the plush mattress and you felt yourself about to doze off, there was a knock at the door.

“Coming,” you sighed as you pushed yourself up, ready to turn away whoever was on the other side of the door. You just wanted to rest for the rest of the night. “Listen, came you come back tomor…” you froze mid word as your eyes landed on the one person you had hoped to see, “Din!” you breathed.

“Did I come at a bad time?” he asked, tilting his helmeted head to the side, “I had a bounty in the area and I thought I would come by.” Since it’s been awhile, he thought to himself, and I missed you.

“No, no,” you ushered him inside before he could walk away, “Come in.”

The Mandalorian walked past you, entering the room while you closed and locked the door, “Everything alright?” he asked, noticing the exhaustion in your voice.

“Fine,” you replied as you crossed the room and sat down, motioning for him to sit next to you, “It’s just been really busy here the last couple days. Not sure why,” you shrugged. 

“Want me to come back another time?” he asked plainly, his tone hiding his true disappointment especially after having not seen you in so long. Din truly looked forward to the days when he could come by the brothel and spend time with you.

“I think I can muster up some energy for my favorite client,” you replied with a flirty wink. It took everything you had to not sound like you desperately wanted him to stay, and even if you couldn’t even pull yourself off the bed you would do it for him.

Din tilted his head to the side slightly as a soft amused huff escaped his lips, “Your favorite, huh?”

You heard the smile in his voice. Biting your lip and subtly shimmying your shoulders, you closed the gap between your bodies and traced the chestplate of his beskar armor with your finger, “Don’t tell anyone else. They might get jealous,” you purred as the room started to warm around you.

Din reached in his pocket, pulling out a generous amount of credits and placed them on the nearby table before he leaned in closer to you. He cupped your face, tenderly caressing the side of your head in his gloved hand, “Your secret is safe with me.” Din gently rubbed his thumb against your cheek while his large hand cradled you softly while he pushed his body against yours.

“Din…” you breathed as your eyes fluttered shut and you allowed him to guide you back until your legs hit the bed. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured as his hands moved down the front of your body and tugged at your robe. 

A gasp escaped your lips as the cool air hit your skin. But, you didn’t feel cool for long. Even through the darkness of his vizor, you could feel Din’s gaze on you, and you could tell he eyed you hungerly. The way his breath hitched whenever he saw you bare for him, the way his helmet tilted slightly, the way his hands gripped you just a little bit tighter… you knew all Din’s tells by now. And you craved the feeling of being under his touch.

“Beautiful,” Din sighed as he guided your body down onto the bed. He stood in awe over you for a moment as your robe fell open and framed your figure. His pants felt tighter as his cock reacted to the way you settled yourself, spreading your legs wide for him. Din let out a low groan as he tugged his gloves off. They were the only thing he ever removed, and he only ever took them off with you.

“Din,” you whispered again as the bed dipped as he hovered over you, “Let me…”

You ran your hands down his chest once more, imaging what it would feel like to feel his bare skin under your touch instead. You bit your lip when you reached the hem of his pants, and you expertly unzipped and freed his cock without letting any other sliver of skin show. You knew the trust he put in you, and you never took it for granted. You felt honored that he even trusted you with his real name- something else you held near and dear to your heart. 

Savoring the groan he let out, you stroked his length slowly. You made sure to squeeze right where he liked it, and you let out a whimper every time a louder growl escaped his lips involuntarily. But you let out another whine when you felt his thick fingers cupping your pussy, and you mewled when Din pushed them inside you.

Pumping his fingers to the same rhythm as you stroked his cock, your moans harmonized with his grunts as you both prepped the other. Heavy breaths filled the room as you fought to keep your eyes open and locked on his vizor. Din rested his helmeted forehead against yours as he thrust his fingers deeper inside you, causing you to cry out louder. But, being a professional, you kept your wits about you and squeezed his cock harder in response.  

Din groaned and let out an amused laugh, “Are you ready for me, mesh’la?” he cooed.

“Always,” you whispered back with a smirk of your own.

Another short huff echoed from his helmet as he murmured your name and pulled his fingers out of you. At the same time, you let go of his cock, your hand brushed against his as he reached for it to line himself up with your pussy. The two of you froze for a moment as your gazes met, and for a breath, time felt like it stopped.

A whirlwind of emotions ran through both of you as you stared at each other. It was as if you could both sense the other had something to say, and if you both had a secret you kept buried. Yet, it remained unspoken between the two of you. Your mouth dropped open and a deep breath escaped your lips, like you were about to put into words what neither of you would say.

Before you could, though, Din thrust his hips forward, driving his cock into you in one swift movement. Your head dropped down into the bed as you let out a loud, obscene moan as you felt the familiar stretch of his cock. 

“Din!” you cried out as he reeled back and thrust forward again.

“I know,” he grunted as he felt his skin sweat underneath all the armor. You had an effect on Din that no one else did. He lost all control when it came to you, especially when he was inside you. And the way you moan with every thrust of his hips only made him come more and more undone.

You cried out in ecstasy as Din rocked in and out of you in a fast and steady rhythm. Tears filled your eyes as you clutched the sheets. He made you feel something you had never felt before. And every time Din visited you, it became harder and harder to deny your growing feelings for him.

Passions ran wild as Din picked up his pace, thrusting deep into you harder and faster. He growled from under his helmet as he felt your warmth engulf his cock. Grabbing your hips, Din gave one harsh thrust, driving his length as deep inside you as he possibly could.

The gasp you let out when he did that made his cock twitch, and Din knew neither of you would last much longer. Din kept a strong grip on you as he repeated the action, changing his thrusts to slow and deep and deliberate.

“Fuck… Din…”

“I know,” he grunted.

You moved your grip from the sheets to his arms as you clung to him for dear life. With every slow, deep thrust, you felt your climax inch closer and closer and closer until you finally spilled over the edge. With a loud scream and trembling legs, you came hard on his cock. Squeezing your inner muscles as you gushed between your bodies, wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through your body as Din continued to thrust into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

With a low groan of your name, Din came right after you. He spilled himself deep inside you as he drove his cock as deep as he could once more. Din kept his pace as long as he could, riding out both your orgasms as you moaned and groaned together, clawing at each other in desperation as you did so.

After one last thrust, Din pulled out of you. He watched as you collapsed onto the bed while he regained his composure. Heavy breaths filled the room as you both came down from your highs, and Din rested himself on the bed next to you in silence. His breath hitched in his throat as you immediately rolled close to him and nested yourself comfortably against his body.

“Hey,” you breathed, breaking the silence, “Is your bounty urgent or do you want to stay for the night?”

Din let out a short laugh, “He’s frozen in carbonite,” he sounded pleased with himself, “He’s not going anywhere.”

You smirked against his beaker chestplate as his unspoken acceptance lingered in the air like a comforting blanket between the two of you. Together, you laid in silence as Din wrapped his strong arms around you. Your heart pounded at the feeling of being in his arms, and you wished that it could be like this every night. But, he was a Mandalorian bounty hunter, there was no way that was in the future for you.

Suddenly, an explosion of fireworks echoed from outside, making you gasp and jump up with fright. Din tightened his grip around you, pulling you even closer and going on high alert. The two of you looked out the window as another color firework lit up the sky in the distance. More and more fireworks continued as the show went on, and in the distance you heard a crowd ooh and ahh at the marvel of the show.

Then the realization hit you. “Maker…” you breathed as you burst into nervous laughter, “Do you know what today is, Din?”

He turned to you but said nothing.

“It’s Lover’s Day!” you laughed more to cover the nerves. You just spent the evening of Lover’s Day with Din…

He seemed to mull over for several moments, his gaze moving down before he finally said, “So it is,” Din was quiet again as he turned back to you. 

Even without seeing his face, you felt your skin warm under his gaze. Somehow, you felt all his emotions just in the way he held you, and as Din moved his hand and cupped your face your world felt like it was spinning. You savored the warmth of his touch, and you let out a deep breath as you leaned into his hand and closed your eyes contently.

“Since it’s Lover’s Day,” Din was the one who broke the silence this time, “Let me take care of you…”

“Din…”

Carefully, Din rolled your bodies so that you laid on your back while he hovered over you. Looking up at him, your breath caught in your chest and your heart fluttered as he pushed himself down and settled between your parted legs. 

You let out a whine as heat rushed through your body. All you could do was swallow hard and moan in anticipation as you watched Din lean forward so that he hovered over your exposed pussy.

He murmured something incoherent before he rested his hand on your hips, gently pinning you in place. Not wanting to let go of you, Din used the leverage of your body to tilt his helmet up while he positioned his face over your folds.

A gasp escaped your lips when you felt his breath on your skin, “Din…” you whimpered as you closed your eyes tightly.

Din growled as he licked his lips before diving into you. The cry you let out sent a jolt through his veins, and combined with tasting you, Din almost lost all his composure. “Fuck,” he groaned against you before he lapped at your cunt again.

His hips bucked against the bed as he savored the sweetness of your pussy. Din groaned into you as his hands gripped you tighter, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. And the way you moaned and cried out in pure bliss only added to the overwhelming sensations and emotions he felt.

Not having expected this, tears quickly filled your eyes and your mind and body floated in the pleasure that Din’s tongue brought you. With every lap of his tongue, you felt a shock of pleasure tingle through your veins. And it wasn’t because he physically made you feel good either. It was the act itself, Din putting himself into a vulnerable position just to lick and suck at your pussy, and doing this for you.

It had to mean something, right?

“Fuck… Din…” you whimpered as you moved your grip from the sheets to his wrists, finding just the tiny sliver of skin under his armor.

Din grunted into you as he pushed his face more against your body. His hands shifted slightly so that his fingers curled around yours, holding both your hand and your hips at the same time. As much as he wanted to murmur soft words of encouragement, to tell you to cum in his mouth, he also couldn’t tear himself away. From the first taste, Din was addicted to you, and he already knew he wanted more… Wanted you.

Your legs trembled on either side of his helmet as you felt your body warm as your climax was about to hit. Without warning, you came hard with a loud scream, arching your back off the bed and gushing into Din’s mouth as your cries of pleasure filled the room.

He slurped and sucked at your folds as he tongue hit your clit over and over again, allowing you to ride out your orgasm on his tongue. And Din greedily lapped up every drop of your release, swallowing as much of you as he could. His grip on you tightened as he moaned against your body, lapping at you until you couldn’t take any more.

With one final gasp, you flopped down limp on the bed as Din broke away from you with a huff. His helmet slid down to cover his face in one smooth motion as he sat up and licked at the corners of his mouth from under the cover of his armor.  He watched you with captivate fascination as your breasts rose and fell with your deep, heavy breaths as you recovered from your intense climax.

There were so many words on the tip of his tongue. So many things that Din wanted to tell you. The tension in the air was so thick that it almost overpowered the smell of sex in the room. Din ran his hands up and down your body, gently caressing you and letting his touch speak for him instead.

“Din,” you murmured as you broke the silence and blinked your eyes open to meet his armored figure in the low light, “I…”

He moved his hand to the side of your face, not covering your mouth but the motion itself paused your thoughts. He said nothing as he pushed himself up to your face, stopping for a moment to rest his helmeted forehead against your own. As the two of you sat like that for a few moments, he brushed your cheek with his finger tenderly. Din whispered your name as he broke away, moving his hand to cover your eyes as he did so. 

Your lips pasted with a gasp, yet you stayed still, fully trusting the Mandalorian. With your eyes covered by his large hand, your world went black. Faintly, you heard a hiss in front of you, but before you could ask what was happening, you felt something on your skin. His breath.

Din pulled his helmet up just enough to uncover half of his face. His lips felt cold as the air hit his skin, but he was instantly warmed again when he pressed his lips to yours. He swallowed the moan you let out as he kissed you for the very first time. Tightening his grip on you, Din pushed himself even closer against you, desperate to feel you as close as possible.

You surrendered yourself to him willingly. Tilting your head, you were mindful to keep your eyes covered as you deepened the kiss by parting your lips for him. Din eagerly accepted the silent invitation, and you both moaned into the other when you tased each other for the first time. The fireworks continued around you, but the only explosions either of you cared about were the ones happening between you.

“I know,” Din murmured against your lips when he reluctantly broke away from you.

You let out a deep breath against his face, and you knew he felt your smile against his skin. Din placed one last kiss on your lips, lingering on yours for several moments before he pulled away and dropped his helmet back down.

Blinking your eyes open, you grinned when you were met with the familiar silhouette in the darkness once more. A soft smile lit up your face, and it made Din’s chest tighten with the sincere look in your eyes. Just as you were about to say something, though, a knock at the door made both of you jump to attention.

Din was quick to stand and shift into attack mode. Out of pure reflex, his hand reached for his blaster, ready to protect you.

“Wait,” you grabbed his wrist with one hand as you reached for your robe with the other, “It might be another client. Hang on,” you slid the robe over your shoulders and wrapped it around you as you moved around the Mandalorian.

He didn’t stray far from you, hovering behind you as you opened the door and recognized the man who stood on the other side, “Hey, I’ve got an overnight tonight,” you told him in a kind voice, “Can you come back tomorrow? I promise I’ll leave a time open for you.”

The man stuttered as he suddenly felt nervous as the Mandalorian glared at him from over your shoulder, “Y-yeah,” he finally said, “Sure… Sorry,” he mumbled before he turned and left.

Closing and locking the door, you turned back to Din and shook your head as you grinned, “He’s a nice guy,” you explained to him, “One of my best tippers too… So please try not to scare away my source of income.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled an apology as he visibly relaxed. Din had no issue with what you did for a living, he only had your safety and best interest in mind. He had seen you mistreated once before, and while he knew it was a rarity, Din never wanted to see you hurt ever again. Especially not if he could prevent it and protect you. 

“Let’s lay down,” you said softly as you reached your hand out to him. Your heart fluttered for a moment as he took your hand and allowed you to lead him back to the bed where you both made yourselves comfortable. Din immediately pulled you in close and held you in his embrace. 

Settling down for the night, you never felt more safe than you did right now, in Din’s arms. Yawning heavily, you felt the exhaustion start to overcome you once more, and you knew soon you would be sound asleep, “Hey Din,” you muttered sleepily, “Happy Lover’s Day.”

Din’s breath hitched in his throat as you quickly started to snore softly. He looked forward to nights like this, nights with you. And it was pure coincidence that he happened to come to you on Lover’s Day. But perhaps it wasn't a coincidence. Perhaps he was meant to be here tonight… with you. As Din listened to your steady breaking while you slept, he leaned in and whispered, “Happy Lover’s Day, cyare.” 

[inkspiredwriting]

One step at a time

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: This was a request. It deals with a serious topic and I really hope that I managed to deal with it respectfully. As always, tell me what you think

Warnings: eating disorder, self conscious

It was a quiet evening at home, the kind of night Five Hargreeves had come to cherish. The chaos of his past—the timelines, the apocalypses, the relentless battles—felt like distant memories in moments like this. His life had slowed down, settled into a rhythm of normalcy that he never thought he’d appreciate. And a large part of that peace came from his wife, Y/n.

She was in the kitchen now, moving around with quiet efficiency as she prepared dinner. But something was off. Five had always been observant, and over the past few months, he had noticed subtle changes in her behavior. The way she pushed her food around her plate, or how she’d excuse herself from meals with a quick "I’m not really hungry." It hadn’t bothered him at first—everyone had off days—but as time went on, it became more frequent.

Tonight, though, he decided it was time to say something. He watched her as she set the table, her movements slower than usual, almost as if she were trying to be invisible. Her face was pale, and there was a sadness in her eyes that she tried so hard to hide. Five's stomach clenched as he realized that Y/n had been quietly battling something she hadn’t told him about.

As she placed the last dish on the table, she turned to him with a small, forced smile. "Dinner’s ready."

"Thanks," Five said, his voice steady but gentle. He sat down and waited for her to join him. She took her seat across from him, but her fork barely touched the food on her plate.

Five studied her for a moment before speaking. "Y/n, are you okay?"

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. "Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?"

"You haven’t really been eating," Five said carefully. "I’ve noticed it for a while now."

Her eyes flicked down to her plate, and she let out a shaky breath. "I’m just... I don’t know. I’ve been stressed, I guess."

Five leaned forward, his voice soft and full of concern. "Y/n, it’s more than that. I can tell something’s been bothering you, and I want to help. You don’t have to go through this alone."

She looked away, her hands trembling slightly. For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, she whispered, "I don’t like how I look, Five."

Five’s heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice. He reached across the table and gently took her hand. "What do you mean?"

Y/n swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. "I’ve always struggled with... with how I see myself. It’s been worse lately. I just—I look in the mirror, and I don’t like what I see. And when I eat, it feels like I’m losing control. So I stop. I stop eating because it’s the only thing I can control."

Five squeezed her hand, his chest tightening with a mix of sadness and frustration. He hated that she felt this way, that she had been suffering in silence. "Y/n, you’re beautiful. Inside and out. I’ve never seen you as anything less."

Her eyes glistened with tears as she shook her head. "You don’t understand. I feel... I don’t know. Like I’m not enough. Like if I could just look better, I’d be happier."

Five stood up and walked around the table, pulling her into his arms. She leaned against him, her body trembling as she fought back tears.

"Y/n," he murmured into her hair, "I love you exactly the way you are. You don’t have to change anything for me or for anyone else. You’re enough. More than enough."

She buried her face in his chest, her voice choked. "But I don’t feel like it."

Five gently tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him. His eyes were full of love and concern, his voice steady and calm. "I know this is hard for you, and I can’t pretend to understand everything you’re feeling. But you don’t have to go through this alone. We can work through it together. Let me help you."

Y/n hesitated, her tear-filled eyes searching his face. "I don’t know how."

"One step at a time," Five said softly. "We don’t need to fix everything at once. But we can start by being honest with each other. When you’re feeling this way, I need you to tell me. I want to be there for you, even if it’s just to listen."

Y/n nodded slowly, her voice small. "I’m scared."

"I know," Five whispered, holding her closer. "But you’re not alone. We’re in this together."

They stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of her struggles shared between them. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a start. And for Five, that was enough.

Over the next few weeks, Five made a conscious effort to be there for Y/n in every way he could. He didn’t push her to talk if she wasn’t ready, but he made sure she knew that he was always there to listen. He started taking over the cooking, making meals that they could share together. Slowly, they found a balance.

One evening, they sat on the couch together, their hands intertwined as they watched a movie.

"How are you feeling?" Five asked gently, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Y/n smiled softly, resting her head on his shoulder. "Better. I’m not where I want to be yet, but I’m getting there. Thanks to you."

Five kissed the top of her head, his heart swelling with pride. "You’re strong, Y/n. I always knew that."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’ll never have to find out," Five said with a smile, pulling her closer. "I’m not going anywhere."

As the night wore on, they sat together in comfortable silence, their hands still linked. For the first time in a long time, Y/n felt a sense of peace. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Dumb Ways to Die Snippet

I've been working on this in my free time when no other Au or fic feels like functioning. It is goofy and will turn serious later. For now though, enjoy a tired Reaper Ratchet as he is forced to deal with one very clumsy Orion Pax.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Reaper.” The Primes sat upon their lofty thrones, their gazes chilly and without emotion. Ratchet knelt before them, his helm bowed respectfully. He abhorred having to lower himself, but there was no denying the superiority of the creatures that watched him with optics so alien that it was hard to believe they were once living beings at all.

“Primus’s chosen has been forged in the living realm. He cannot be allowed to perish until his duty is complete.” Ratchet sighed as the unspoken order registered. This was one of his duties, regardless of whether or not he liked it. As a Reaper, he was not only to collect the dead and guide them home, but he was also obliged to watch over specific sparks that had divine plans that involved them.

He hadn’t actually had to deal with such a thing before. A few other Reapers had been assigned to mecha of importance, but Ratchet was new. He had only joined the ranks of the Reapers shortly after the Quintessons were driven from Cybertron’s surface. A bitter part of his mind reminded him that the reason he was probably receiving this assignment was because of his ranking amongst the Reapers. The pricks higher up on the chain had most likely seen fit to throw the work on him so they didn’t have to bother watching out for a fragile mortal for millennia on end.

Those slaggers. 

“You will watch over him and ensure his continued functioning until you are recalled.” One Prime spoke. Ratchet didn’t dare look up to see who. It was not his place.

“You are permitted to restore him regardless of his injuries so long as there is a rational reason that the order may use to make the repairs real.” Another’s voice rang out, powerful and commanding. If Ratchet were still living, he was sure his plating would be flaring in instinctual fear. At that moment, he was more than thankful for his lack of physical frame as he nodded in understanding.

“Watch over him, Reaper. He is a kind spark.” A firm but definitely feminine voice echoed. He knew her voice. She was the one who chose new Reapers to add to the order. She was the one who stood beside his dying frame and soothed him, promising him a chance to continue living in another form.

“I trust that you out of all our Reapers will tend to him faithfully.” He risked looking up so that he could see Solus Prime smile. Viewing the trust in her expression had all the anger in his spark dissipating like smoke. If it was her order that had him in his new station, then he could accept it. Surely the one she had chosen him to watch over couldn’t be too difficult to keep alive, right?

━━━━━━

“This is the third time this stellar cycle, mortal.” Ratchet wanted to bang his helm against a wall as he greeted his target yet again. Orion Pax was, once more, dying of a shattered spine after falling down the stairs in the Archives. 

“I apologize, Reaper. I promise I did in fact watch where my pedes were going this time. But unfortunately-” 

“You lost hold of your datapad and scrambled to grab it, leading to your tumble of doom.” Ratchet finished for him. Orion shuffled in the void, his expression the embodiment of embarrassment. This was not the first time they met, nor would it be the last at this rate.

Ratchet hadn’t been assigned to the Archivist for a full vorn yet, and Orion had somehow managed to die in over twenty ways in less than twelve deca-cycles. It was honestly quite spectacular. How he managed to last so long prior to Ratchet’s arrival was a complete and total mystery to him at this point.

“Forgive me. I shall do my best to improve and pay closer attention to my surroundings.” Orion bowed his helm slightly, his wispy form shifting as Ratchet rubbed the soft metal beneath his optics and prepared to do what he always did. 

“I’ve heard that enough times already. Don’t bother making a promise you can’t keep.” Sighing, Ratchet stepped forward and grasped at Orion’s spark. His ghostly form disappeared in an instant, and Ratchet exercised what control he had to build himself an avatar. It was as easy as venting for him, in large part due to the frequency of which he was forced to revive his target, but also due to his relative youth amongst the Reapers. He remembered what it was like to live, and that made entering the living realm easier.

“Slag, you really messed yourself up.” Looking down, Ratchet almost wanted to gag. He had been a medic prior to his death. He’d seen more than enough corpses to be largely unphased. And yet somehow, Orion Pax always managed to kill himself in both the most ridiculous and unsettling ways possible.

“Let’s get this over with.” Wishing he could be anywhere else, Ratchet knelt before the shattered corpse of Orion Pax and slowly eased the Archivist’s spark back into his frame. Mangled limbs straightened with painful sounding cracks, shattered spinal struts clicked into place while popping like bubble wrap. Before long, the Archivist gasped and coughed as his systems came back online. He lived again.

[synthetickitsune]

you write a lot for soohyuk, i was wondering if you’d consider writing for park joongil? his mom was awful in that past life and i can imagine her wanting to marry him off again and that relationship with his second wife would be so painful and sad and your guidelines say you are open to writing angst so if you do consider this thank you very much!

Anon I love you for this idea?? I wish my writing skills were better to do it justice but this concept is the perfect angst material?

Park Joonggil (Tomorrow) | Married again angst | 0.7k TW: mentions of suicide

Watching your husband, separated only by a few steps as the cold air makes its way inside the house through the open door, there’s a tight feeling crushing your chest.

Standing right under the edge of the roof, only a breath away from the falling rain, Joonggil’s just a husk of his past self. You’ve heard about the fate of his late wife - who hasn’t. So many see it as the best thing that could happen, his own mother included. You’ve always wondered if they’re all blind. Because as tragic as death inevitably is, the loss of life before one passes is all the more painful.

Blind but not stupid, nobody expected your marriage to be easy. On the contrary, however, it’s been smooth sailing so far. Perhaps you’re sharing the last speck of fortune that you were given.

Anyway, the marriage works well. You were never suited to be a wife, to carry and care for a child, the household, and so when Joonggil approached you on your wedding night and as respectfully as he could expressed that he won’t be able to give you a child, nor the love you’re worthy of, it came as a bittersweet relief.

You care for each other, sure, but that’s about the extent of it. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t developed any feelings at all for the man. They’re a luxury you can’t afford, a guilty pleasure to indulge in whenever Joonggil brings you a gift from the travels duty sends him on. When he hands the objects to you, the smile never reaches his eyes. You’ve wondered more times than you can count whether there was ever an unspoken this made me think of you behind the gesture, or if they are just to keep appearances. 

You’re not naive enough to hope.

A part of you, one set on hurting you, wishes you could’ve met his previous wife. Joonggil never speaks of her, which is understandable, and you don’t push him, you don’t ask. Nonetheless, you’re curious. How unique that person must’ve been to capture Joonggil’s heart so? How wonderful she must've been that her death left behind a hollow shell of a man? You've only stopped doubting love is real after you've witnessed his devotion. How painful it is that you're not the object of it.

Sometimes you believe he wishes he'd have died with her. Other times you wonder whether, maybe, if you died people would believe him cursed and finally let him be alone and mourn the loss of the love of his life as he wishes. Even if that was the case, however, you could never take your life. You know that his mother would only push for another wedding. And more importantly, you could never do that to him. 

He still gets woken up by nightmares. Even tonight.

You know he can feel your eyes on him and so you get up. He's not stupid. You know he knows. But you have to keep up the charade. You're careful not to dirty your clothes as you step outside.

"y/n, go back to bed. The night is cold," he speaks without turning towards you.

Your name. Not wife like he used to call her - an information bestowed upon you by his mother. Apparently all that she does and says has to have a victim. Something to torment.

"Come back inside, Joonggil," you ignore his advice, "You're leaving tomorrow and you need strength."

He sighs.

"I'll be just a minute," he finally looks at you, giving you a slow nod. You return it, and just like that, you do as he’s told you.

Polite, short conversations, the usual. Come morning, he'll be gone before you can wake up. It hurts. Night seems to be the only time you can talk freely, without curious eyes and ears spying you. The rejection stings more for that.

Maybe it's for the best that he's leaving.

You’ll dutifully play the role of a wife missing her husband and you’ll play it well. It's the only role you play without pretending.

[entre-isaac]

A Cafe, in parts. One.

There was music on the air that night. Blissful tunes that wafted through the open window, supplying the oxygen with a sweet taste that settled gently upon the tongue. Music that cared little for the inappropriateness of its presence: it delivered its sonnets carelessly over streets that reeked of death. They never knew where the music came from. Perhaps a lone musician who, in witnessing the grief that oozed across the ground, attempted to remedy the blight in the only way he knew how. Perhaps an ignorant aristocrat, boasting her status and signifying her disdain for the unfortunate, commanding her entertainers to perform despite reality’s aching presence. No matter, the music played. And it was heard.

Huddled in a small room above a cafe, twenty-four ears listened. Twelve mouths whispered delicately to one another. One hundred and twenty fingers intertwined, some loose and fleeting, others clasped firmly, desperately. Amassed in a pile of shivering bodies upon uneven floorboards, it was impossible to discern where one being began, and another ended. They were not twelve– they were one. 

A bottle was passed among the group. Slim rations were shared. Encouraging murmurs were exchanged. But always quietly, respectfully– they would not disrupt the music. 

“Do you recognize the tune?” One asked another.

“Yes,” came a fond reply, a voice that revered music in all its beauty, “The Bloom Is On the Rye.”

“A romance?”

“Of sorrow.”

“How can you be certain?”

“The violin bleeds.”

“What do they sorrow for?”

“Time.”

The eyes of these dear friends seemed to meet one another by instinct. A traveling gaze was spread throughout the room. A building silence, broken only by a stifled sob from one soul in the center. He covered his eyes. His hands were removed by another’s. “What do you sorrow for, Courfeyrac?”

“Time,” came his somber reply. It was met with unease. The friends shifted, limbs untangling, necks straightening– to better look upon one another. 

“You sorrow needlessly,” one spoke up, an inspired light in his eye. “Time has no chains upon our wrists. We are above it.”

“No-one is above time, Enjolras.”

“You are wrong. Many things outlast time. They triumph it. Blood grows beyond it. Love lingers past it. And freedom shall survive longest of all. We are freedom. Time will not touch us.”

“Blood stains. Blood weeps.” 

“Jesus wept,” Enjolras laughed. “And still his name is uttered upon the lips of every man, in every moment.” 

“I do not utter it.”

The music drifted over their heads as the words faded into silence. Again, they shared glances between one another. They shared shoulders, pressed against each other as though to fight off the cold, though it was summer, and the heat of the day still lingered on their sweaty brows. They offered comfort unspoken. Each understood wordlessly what their neighbor required of them. A squeeze to the hand. A brush of the forehead. A kiss to the cheek. An embrace. A kind word. 

But silence can only prevail so long without disruption. This disruption had a name: Grantaire. He had a goal: to incite a reaction. It was his barking laugh that assaulted the tranquility as he stumbled free of the group, raising a bottle above his head. “Such dreary company you all are! I want no part in it. You snivel as if it will make a difference. You hide as if that will prevent the inevitable, which is that come morning, we will all certainly die. Waste not your precious few breaths with sobs, and instead make merry with me!” He brought the bottle to his lips and drank, spilling down his neck. 

His interruption was received with varying responses. There were laughs. There were sighs. There were scowls. There were sad smiles. More than used to the drunkard’s antics, they knew better than to take his words to heart. But between his words, the music played. 

“Come and sit down, Grantaire,” Joly addressed him first, pressing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “There is no space for your stumbling here. You will fall.”

“Rejoin us,” Jehan, the lover of music, whispered. “If we cannot escape time, we will await her blow together.” 

“Do not entertain him,” Enjolras bit, scowling. “If he wishes to spend his night in a stupor, he may do so somewhere else,” he shot a glare in Grantaire’s direction, speaking to him now. “Have you no respect?” 

“None,” Grantaire laughed. He tripped and braced himself against Bahorel’s back, disturbing the settled group with a ripple of sways and readjustments. Grantaire remained there, leaning, grinning. “There is music! We should dance. We dance with death!”

“Can he be quieted?” Combeferre said with a sigh. 

“There is only one way to quiet a fool,” Courfeyrac returned with a smile. 

“And what is that?”

“The element of surprise.” 

Amidst puzzled glances, Courfeyrac stood and approached Grantaire, who looked upon him with an eagerness, expecting his friend to join in his merriment. But instead, Courfeyrac took hold of Grantaire’s sleeves, and in a flush kissed him.

[thelikesoffinn]

Why Gortash. Why? Whyyy?

Haha, admittedly: I was wondering about that myself. I'm more than willing to drop kick him off the astronomy tower and yeet him into a chasm for Astarion (and all the other companions, honestly), so why?

But the thing is, I think Gortash himself has little to do with my newfound affection for Durgetash! (At least initially. His way of displaying his affection does account for something. I'm weak, okay?)

In the end, I'm a sucker for drama. I love a good hopeless romance, and Durge and Gortash were basically faulted from the get go. This relationship can't lead anywhere, and it shouldn't have happened multiple reasons.

But it DID.

It did happen and two characters who were abused, enslaved, tortured and manipulated; two people, who are likely lonely and starved of touch and affection, collided and an entire onslew of possibilities was set in motion.

Their story could have gone so many different ways, and yet not a single one was really probable.

And I LOVE that kind of shit. I'm sorry, but I do! The unspoken regret, the lost opportunities, the wasted potential... the heartbreak that is never really addressed. There's toxicity, manipulation, and desperation. False promises and real emotion. It's fantastic.

And yes, I know, we could do a redeemed durge and a redeemed Gortash, but - respectfully - blegh. I'm totally in this for the pain, and, to me, Durgetash is a ship that needs to sink.

(And also, hello: "I tolerated Orin, but you...you I liked." #donefor)

I'm soft! And I do usually prefer a villain(-ish) male lead because they choose the female lead over everything. The classic: "The hero would sacrifice her to save the world. The villain would sacrifice the world to save her.

It's probably also why I love Astarion so much. He has his selfish, villainish streak and will definitely sell the entirety of Faerûn if it meant Tav/Durge was safe.

And, to answer the question from your second ask: No, I still prefer Astarion. As I said, I'll yeet Gortash into a chasm without any remorse when the time comes. But Durgetash is a lovely way to flesh out my OC and I'm totally up for that.

(And I want Astarion to be happy, so Gortash can feed my Angst loving arse 🫡)

[pielove123clan]

Verdell/Marrigold 15

Milly/Boss 13

Millicent/Fleshy 27

Answers are under the cut. It's really half assed and nothings been hashed out. I hope you enjoy reading anyways. I need new ocs. I need better ocs and I need to actually write I feel. I'm just apprehensive about things and getting overly emotional is scary, that includes writing. And if I let my emtions cloud my judgment, it isn't a good story. But again, that's what rough drafts are for. Creativity and writing, at least the best peices in my eyes, are supposed to be expressions of emotions and have a meaning. Fluff without a message, unrisky content, it's utter rubbish. Not to say they don't have their place either and sometimes its nice to turn the brain off, I personally am at risk and WILL AND HAVE overdone it. Over and over, this vapid comfort and fluff, but I struggle to get past that. It's utterly mediocre in my eyes and I need to go higher, do better, but that requires a breakthrough in my own personality, my habits, a lifestyle change and most importantly, effort. There are so many images that I want to show everyone but can I do it respectfully and with the due diligence? Its scary to suffer, its not nice, but a friend told me "everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear". I like that way of seeing things.

Can I really say I want something if I can't suffer a temporary pain enough for it? All I can really do right now is speak but I need action to back those words. I don't trust myself but we'll see whatever happens or comes up.

Thank you anyways for sending me the ask!

15 -Do they trust each other, why or why not?

I think they have a sense of trust between each other but also their secrets from each other, Marigold with her magic shovel and Verdell with his double life being a vigilante. They have not known each other for long but they think the other is pretty nice and upstanding person going to the same university. This isn't 'cannon' but ive held on to the idea of these two being housemates. Marigold is lieing because she doesn't want to get arrested or something because the shovel she has is probably illegal and she doesn't know Verdell that much. Letting him stay was done out out kindness and maybe pitty. Tthe house is emptier with her mother being in the hospital and her father going missing. Verdell is nice enough anyways ( he means well but his eagerness is a tad bit unnerving. was this a bad idea?)

I forgot what crack stuff I typed about vigilantes in this world, its legal as long as your identity is secret and the government will neither help nor interfere unless they become a problem for them? It can vary from state or teritory, whatever community regulations they want. Outwardly, the government won't govern these vigilantes until they become a probem to them. People have powers in this reality, it needs to be registered with their ID by law and it's only requried to be shared with medical professionals and I guess the police departments if requested. This also makes it easy, if you become a threat to the government, they can identify who has the ability or power in that area then they send maybe a special unit. Also, it's illegal to not register if you have an ability.

That being said, powers and abilities are treated like the "don't say gay" law where its 'don't ask, don't tell'. The unspoken rule of this society, most abilities aren't accepted by the and if you use them in person, the community will shun and dislike you. You might even get a misdemenor for causing a disturbance. The exception is if your able to market yourself, be seen as entertaining, talented and contributing to society, but those are only reserved to those who can stand out. Having an alternate idenity, stage name, moniker, those things are the safest.

Verdell is a vigilante and he's keeping his identity secret for the whole, "if my enemies know my secret, they can hurt me and the people I care about!" and he hasn't known Marigold for long. There's weird dents in the walls and some furniture seems hastily duct taped back together, the front door had to be repaired for some reason, but he was lucky enough to be allowed to stay somewhere nice with a roof over his head. Plus, Marigold was nice enough to even let a stranger or aquantince stay in a nice home. Verdell will do anything he can to repay that kindness back. ( Ask me again about this next time because I might re-write things. My brain is feeling murky but now I realize some contradictions and plot holes. Trying to juggle so many traits with him. Verdell doesn't want to be a giant burden so he'll make himself useful and help out in the house and the garden when he can! )

13. Do they have any distain/contempt for each other? How do they show it?

Milly has a lot of distain being tricked into a contract but she has to do it or else she may get blackmailed or go to jail. Organ trafficing and illegal surgeries on individuals is her job now, until she pays every cent of her tuition back through labor. Her hair is grey from this stress, they messed with her body, but outwardly showing contempt or hatred can't be done or it'll jeopardize her future. This is what she gets for wanting to avoid taking out a loan and going into student debt. Ontop of this, she needs to study and do the legitimate work for medical school. She's the black market organizations bitch and she feels utterly helpless. She can't say or do anything.

( that being said, I heard there was a program where the government will pay for your medical schooling if you work x amount of years in a hospital? i didn't know about it at the time of Milly's creation)

Her boss doesn't care, Milly's just another poor sap who's momentarily there for empolyment. She should be greatful their organization is paying for her education, making her dreams come true and setting her for life, all she needs is to play her part as a good little surgeon. They are doing a service letting these ungreatful undergrat brats fufill their clases, it ain't a bad deal having them receive some work experince. They survive their service and get the hell out of there. Milly is undeserving of whatever ability she got out of her surgery, its a waste. They're contemplating transplanting the organ out of her after she's done her service. If that kills her or disables her after the organ adapted to her body for long enough, tough luck. Doesn't matter.

Milly's just a tiny cog in the machine, why would they care? They don't, not even a subject in their mind, just a tiny blip.

27. How far would they go for each other? Would they risk their own lives for each other?

Unflinching for both of them, they would die for each other and risk their lives for each other. Fleshy has anger and violence issues due to where she used to come from and how she was created but shes like 7-8 (age kind of pending but Fleshy is a young child.) Milicent is trying to teach her out of wanting to 'punish' anything that does what she doesn't like.

Its a whole thing because Milicent's a person made up of multiple centipedes who evolved over the course of millions of years, starting back in the carboniferous period of the Earth. There are people after Fleshy so Milicent wouldn't hessitate to poison and consume them. It is self defence. Nothing will harm her adopted child over her dead body.

[ectstasy]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔲𝔰

ᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ: ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ x ɴᴏɴ ʀᴏʏᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ 

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱʏ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ 

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.9ᴋ

In the elegant ballroom, every individual glided with elegance and grace, their movements perfectly synchronized with the melodies of the violin and piano. Y/N sat  on one of the chairs, admiring the couples twirling in harmony, yearning for a partner of her own.

At that moment, her eyes locked with a man across the room, and his intense gaze caused a subtle blush to spread across her cheeks. She tried to tear her gaze away, but his magnetic presence held her captive.

 The rest of the world faded into a blur as it seemed that only the two of them existed in the room. Captivated, the man approached her, bowing respectfully and extending his hand. "May I have this dance, my lady?" Unexpected, yet Y/N didn't hesitate to accept the invitation. "Yes, you may," she replied as her hand interlocked with his. He secured his hand firmly around her waist, while hers rested on his chest. 

As they moved to the rhythm of the music, their eyes never wavered from each other's gaze. Transfixed by the captivating allure they each possessed, they danced as if nothing else mattered in the world.

Unbeknownst to them, the gazes of those in the ballroom were fixated on the couple. Some onlookers were shocked, some filled with wonder, and others brimmed with joy.

A warm smile graced the man's lips as he complimented her, "You are truly beautiful, miss. May I inquire your name?" The girl's smile mirrored his, and she responded, "I am Y/N...and what might your name be?" He paused for a moment, seemingly contemplating before finally uttering, "Yeosang." Y/N's eyes widened in astonishment, causing the dance to come to an abrupt halt.

The enchantment was broken, revealing the sea of stares directed towards them. Overwhelmed with sudden awareness, Y/N quickly bowed before him, her voice trembling, "Prince Yeosang, please accept my sincerest apologies for any rudeness on my part!" A gentle, breathy laugh escaped his lips, a melody more beautiful than the melodies produced by any violin or piano. "It would be rude of you if you didn't continue dancing with me, miss Y/N," he assured her. Slowly, she lifted herself up, never breaking eye contact with the man. His hands naturally found hers, and they resumed their dance, as if the interruption had never occurred.

"You know, I'm not some princess or anything. My father is actually a castle guard, and we were just invited." She made sure to assert her true identity to him, but he didn't seem too concerned.

"I'm not sure I understand what that has to do with the current situation," he replied, not fully connecting the dots. She bit her lip, at a loss for words, and remained silent.

"Do you ever get the feeling that we've met before?" he asked, looking genuinely curious. "I don't think so," she replied, causing Yeosang to flash her a smile so beautiful it seemed to light up her entire world. "Then I want to get to know you," he added, glancing around the room and noticing the stares they were getting from the other attendees. "Things are getting a bit awkward in here," he remarked, then turned his attention to someone behind Y/N. She followed his gaze to find Prince Taehyun, his brother, standing there. Taehyun seemed to understand the unspoken signal and immediately made his way to their parents' throne. Raising his glass, he shouted with excitement, capturing everyone's attention.

"Listen up, everyone gathered here! I have an announcement," Taehyun exclaimed. As the focus shifted from Y/N and Yeosang to Taehyun, Yeosang took the opportunity to grab Y/N's hand and swiftly guide her towards the exit of the ballroom.

•『♡』• ════════════•『♡』

Y/N took in the breathtaking sight of the beautifully arranged garden she found herself in. Blooming colorful flowers of various shapes and sizes adorned the landscape, they swayed gently in the cool breeze.

"I've always had a fondness for flowers," he stated, plucking a delicate pink rose and presenting it to her. Y/N gazed at the flower, smiling appreciatively. Looking up at him, she replied, "You know, flowers often have deeper meanings."

"Oh, really? What does this one represent?" he inquired, pointing to the rose now cradled in her hand. "It symbolizes being destined to be together, forever," she responded. He chuckled softly, gazing up at the twinkling stars in the sky. "I know we just met, but there's something about you that captivates me deeply."

Taken aback by his words, Y/N asked, "In what way?" His gaze locked with hers, and she felt her heart skip a beat. "I believe you are the one mentioned in Aphrodite's message," he declared. Confusion furrowed her brows as she questioned, "Aphrodite's message?"

Yeosang nodded, continuing to explain, "Long ago, during my great grandfather's reign, he was blessed by Aphrodite. She proclaimed that his kingdom would prosper as long as the succeeding heirs found their perfect match. If one were to marry someone who isn't their destined partner, Aphrodite's deal would be broken, and the kingdom would face ruin."

The revelation left Y/N speechless. "Are you suggesting that I am your perfect match?" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with shock. Before he could answer, his smile spoke volumes. "Prince, I'm not of royal status. I am just the daughter of a guard. How is this possible?" she questioned, her voice filled with doubt.

He gently pressed his finger against her lips, urging her to be silent. "My grandfather used to tell me the story of how he fell in love with my grandmother. Once he discovered their connection, he brought her to this very spot, and the stars above shone with brilliance." He moved his hand from her lips to her chin, tilting it upward to gaze at the sky. "The stars above us shine brighter when I'm with you."

•『♡』• ════════════•『♡』

"You dare to mock me in such a manner, Kang Yeosang!" his mother roared angrily. "Dancing with a girl who isn't even of royal status?!" The memories of the previous night replayed in her mind, fueling her fury. Picking up a delicate vase, she hurled it across the room towards Yeosang. However, he stood unmoving, not even flinching as the vase narrowly missed him, shattering against the wall. He clenched his fists tightly, his gaze fixed to the ground.

"Mother, I'm certain there's a rea-" Taehyun  began, attempting to defend his older brothers actions. His mother swiftly cut him off. "Silence, Kang Taehyun," she commanded, instilling fear in the younger boy. 

"Out of all the elegant ladies present in the ballroom, why did you choose her?!" his mother continued to berate him. "She appears unkempt, and her dress seems to be made of the cheapest material in the entire kingdom!" As his mother insulted Y/N, frustration surged within Yeosang.

"Mother, please refrain from speaking such harsh words out of anger," Yeosang implored, earnestly trying to reason with her. His mother shot him a piercing glare in response. "Is it only because of her captivating beauty or her enticing figure that you dare to defy your own mother?" she taunted, catching Yeosang off guard.

He looked at his mother, his shock evident. "Don't you remember the story of my grandparents? After feeling a deep connection, grandfather brought  grandmother out into the night, and the dull stars radiated with their presence, a clear sign that she was the one meant f-". "I forbid you to see her," his mother interjected, cutting off Yeosang before he could finish his sentence. Yeosang was taken aback by his mother's firmness. "But me and grandfather's-" he tried to protest, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"Enough!" his mother exclaimed, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I will not allow you to jeopardize our family's reputation over some infatuation with a girl who does not belong to our social circle." Yeosang felt a mixture of anger and frustration building up inside him, yearning to be released. His mother continued as if she  wanted his rage to pour out. 

 "Your grandfather simply spoke senseless words. Age has clearly taken a toll on his mind." Yeosang scoffed at her response. "Mother, a perfect match is not solely about the image one projects in the future. It is about love."

Now it was Yeosang's mother's turn to scoff. "If that were truly the case, our kingdom would have perished the moment I married your father." Deep down, she knew she was lying – she genuinely loved Yeosang's father with all her heart. However, she wanted to make her point. These words struck Taehyun like a blow. With tears welling in his eyes, he abruptly ran out of the room, seeking solace elsewhere. Yeosang sighed deeply, leaving the room to comfort his distraught brother.

Left alone in the room, the woman felt the weight of her rage and the sting of her hurtful words. Sitting down, she buried her face in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt immense shame for allowing such destructive fury to control her actions and words.

"How could she say that, brother?!" Taehyun exclaimed, tears streaming down his face. "Father has been nothing but loving and devoted to her, fulfilling her every desire. Why must she belittle you for something as innocent as falling in love? Just because Y/N is not of royal status, as if that means anything." Taehyun wiped away his tears, his heart heavy with frustration.

Yeosang let out a deep sigh, wrapping his arms around his younger brother in a gentle embrace. "You know our mother, Taehyun. She often gets so caught up in winning arguments that she resorts to unnecessary and hurtful words." Yeosang's voice was filled with understanding and compassion as he comforted his brother.

Taehyun looked up at Yeosang, their eyes locking in understanding. His grip on Yeosang's hand tightened, causing Yeosang to raise an eyebrow in curious anticipation. "Brother, please don't give up your love for Y/N just because of mother's disapproval," Taehyun pleaded earnestly. "It doesn't matter what she thinks. It's you who will know if Y/N is your soulmate or not. You felt that deep connection with her, didn't you?"

A warm smile spread across Yeosangs face, his brother's words. "I promise you, Taehyun, I will not give up on her," he vowed confidently, his determination shining through.

•『♡』• ════════════•『♡』

Y/N stood in the kitchen with her mother, recounting the events of the night. As her mother listened intently, she couldn't help but express shock at the news. "The prince likes you?!" she exclaimed. Y/N simply nodded, unable to contain her smile. Soon, Y/N's father returned home from work, discovering his two favorite people engrossed in conversation. When he inquired about the topic, he was met with an answer that horrified him. "Y/N... no, I don't believe this is a good idea. The queen is incredibly traditional, and we are not of royal blood. She would never accept this." Y/N's face fell upon hearing her father's words. "But father-" she began, only to be interrupted. "No, Y/N... this is impossible. Even if the prince likes you, his power is overshadowed by his mother's. Even if he were to become king, he would be bound by his mother's rules," he explained gravely. Witnessing Y/N's disappointment, her mother attempted to reason. "Perhaps the queen won't be conservative forever. She may eventually be compelled to let her son follow his heart," she suggested optimistically. However, the father shook his head, his knowledge of the queen's disposition rooted in his experiences as a guard by her side. "I'm afraid not," he replied with a heavy sigh. Y/N let out a quiet sigh and mustered a sad smile for her parents. "May I be excused?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Her mother nodded in understanding, while her father begrudgingly gave his permission. Their eyes refused to let Y/N out of their sight as she ascended the stairs, disappearing from their view.

Once Y/N entered her room, her gaze immediately fell upon the Aphrodite idol resting on her nightstand. Overwhelmed with emotion, she threw herself before it, tears streaming down her face. It was the cruel reality that she had fallen in love with the boy in mere hours, and now she feared the possibility of never seeing him again. "Oh, dear goddess Aphrodite," she pleaded, her voice quivering. "You, the deity of love, I beseech you to tell me that this is not the end. The arrow of love has pierced my heart, and the pain is unbearable. Please have mercy." 

Less than ten minutes later, Y/N heard her mother's voice calling for her from downstairs. Hastily wiping away her tears, she looked at herself in the mirror before deeming her appearance suitable for concealment. As she descended the stairs, she was met with a shock—standing before her was the familiar face of Prince Yeosang. Unable to contain her surprise, she exclaimed, "Prince Yeosang?!" and ran down to him. He took her hand in his and offered it a gentle kiss. "Miss Y/N," he greeted her, a smile spreading across his face. 

Y/N was left dumbfounded. "What... why are you here?" she managed to question, her voice filled with both wonder and confusion. 

"Why else? I wanted to see you," he replied, his smile unwavering. "I apologize, Your Majesty, for my audacity in asking," Y/N's father began, but was promptly interrupted by Yeosang. "No need for formalities, Mr. L/N. I am not my mother," he reassured, causing a smile to grace the man's face. 

"Thank you, Prince, but I wanted to inquire about your mother... I have been working by your side for eight years—I am not blind to her... ways," Y/N's father expressed, his concern evident. Yeosang let out a chuckle and placed his hands on the man's shoulders. "Everything will be all right, as long as we all keep this a secret," he assured, the worry visible upon his face. Y/N's mother chimed in with a smile, "I'm sure we can all manage that. Now go along, you two! You deserve some privacy."

Y/N brought Yeosang into her room, and his gaze immediately landed on the Aphrodite idol placed there. "Aphrodite," he said, pointing at the idol. "You're devoted to her, aren't you?" Y/N smiled and nodded. "Yes, ever since I can remember," she replied, patting the bed to signal Yeosang to sit next to her. "So... this has to remain a secret?" she asked, a sad smile on her face. "Yeah...till I become king on June." Seeing her sad face Yeosang sighed and took her hand looking into her eyes. He whispered in her ear, "I promise after the wait, I will make you my queen, Y/N."

Two months later:

"Mother, I can't marry her. I just can't," Yeosang said, shock evident on his face. His mother looked at him after smearing her lips with red lipstick. "You can, and you must," she replied firmly. Yeosang shook his head, grabbing his mother's shoulders and forcing her to look into his eyes, expressing his strong refusal. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to fall. "Mother, I don't love Jiyan, and I never will. I can't marry her," he pleaded. His mother forcefully removed his hand from her shoulders. She was about to say something when Yeosang muttered, "I love Y/N..." A chuckle escaped her lips. "Yeosang," she said, gently touching his cheek. "Do it for me, my love. Do it for your brother, your father. Everyone will be happier knowing we have an experienced queen. Besides, the marriage has already been arranged." Yeosang hung his head, knowing he was defeated. "The least you could do for me, mother, is let me see Y/N one last time." The woman nodded, relenting. "Fine. I give you permission."

Y/N sat by the serene lake behind her family's yard, lightly dipping her feet in the water. The sensation brought her a much-needed sense of tranquility. "Y/N..." she heard her lover's familiar voice call out. "Yeosang!" she exclaimed, rushing to embrace him. But as she held onto him, she noticed that he didn't return the embrace, sending an unsettling feeling through her. Something was wrong. "Yeosang, are you okay?" she asked, concern evident in her voice. The boy couldn't meet her gaze as he reluctantly spoke. "I'm getting married." The words hit Y/N like a tidal wave, filling her with shock, anger, and profound sadness. "Yeosang, what are you saying?" she pleaded. Summoning all his strength, he looked into her eyes, tears streaming down his face. "Y/N, maybe I was mistaken about us being the perfect match. I can't be with you," he confessed, on the verge of leaving. In a desperate attempt to hold onto their love, she grabbed his hand. "I love you, Yeosang. And you love me too. We are the perfect match. We love each other," she protested. Taking a deep breath, he finally met her gaze. His next words struck her like a dagger to the heart. "I don't love you. I'm sorry," he declared, his words feeling painfully untrue. Overwhelmed with shock, Y/N collapsed to the ground. Unable to bare the sight of her devastated face after uttering those cruel words, Yeosang turned away and left. His heart ached as he walked away, knowing that his words had dealt a fatal blow to both of their hearts. 

On the day of the prince's wedding, the entire kingdom was engulfed in an atmosphere of celebration and joy. Excited crowds made their way to the grand palace, eager to witness the union of the royal couple. Y/N's parents, dutiful as they were, joined the festivities, but Y/N couldn't bring herself to participate. Instead, she mustered the courage to tell her mother that she was feeling unwell. Sympathetic and understanding, her parents left her alone in her bed, not wanting to subject her to any more pain. But as Y/N lay there, feeling lifeless and devoid of purpose, her gaze wandered up to the sky above. She felt as if she could no longer bear the weight of her existence. It was in that moment of despair that she turned her attention to the Aphrodite idol, seeking solace in the goddess of love. Determined to reunite with her true love, Y/N left her home and arrived at a cliffside where she had a perfect view of the kingdom. In the distance, she could see the fireworks lighting up the sky, a celebration of the newly wedded couple. With a heavy heart, she whispered to the goddess, "Forgive me, Aphrodite, but I cannot bear to live without my true love. My purpose in life was fulfilled the moment I met him." With those words, she took a fateful step off the cliff. The impact of her body hitting the ground marked the end of her earthly existence, her soul departing from her body and embarking on its journey to the afterlife.

Aphrodite's eyes snapped open, and she sat up, causing her servants to be filled with confusion. "Goddess, what's wrong?" one of them inquired. "Y/N..." was the only word that escaped Aphrodite's lips before she vanished into a cloud of shimmering pink dust, leaving her bewildered servants behind. The dust floated on the wind, carrying the essence of the goddess to the cliffside where tragedy had unfolded. As the dust settled upon the ground, it transformed back into the beautiful form of Aphrodite, her heart sinking at the sight before her. There lay the lifeless body of her dearest devotee, the one she had cherished like a child. "Y/N..." she whispered, reaching down to gently caress the girl's cheek. "My sweet, innocent child." As she gazed at the jubilant kingdom spread out before her, Aphrodite's eyes burned with anger. "I bestowed my gracious blessings upon them, with only one condition: a perfect match, I even had the stars above shine brighter to signify my approval. Yet, these people still defied my very words, forcing the prince into a loveless marriage and driving my devoted Y/N to take her own life. They shamelessly abused my kindness, driven by their hunger for the palaces image. Their actions for forbidding innocent love will be their own downfall." Aphrodite rose from the ground as she clenched her fists, her eyes fixed upon the kingdom that remained blissfully unaware of the rage they had ignited within the goddess's heart.

 "Do you, Kang Yeosang, take Han Jiyan to be your lawfully wedded wife?" The officiant's voice hung in the air, but Yeosang couldn't bring himself to look at the girl standing before him. Deep in his heart, he knew he felt nothing for her. "I do," he managed to say, his voice devoid of conviction. As the words left his lips, fireworks illuminated the sky, as if signaling the gods' approval of the union. The crowd eagerly looked for a sign, but minutes passed without any magical happenings.

A sense of unease pervaded the atmosphere, and the king couldn't conceal his worry as he saw the clouds consuming the once blue sky, casting a somber shadow on the gathering. Suddenly, a deafening clap of thunder reverberated through the heavens, capturing the attention of all. Fear gripped the people as they anxiously looked upward. The sky glowed with an otherworldly light, and amidst the ethereal display, a powerful voice echoed from above. "The prosperity bestowed upon this kingdom shall crumble, for within this union lies a love unrequited."

The queen's heart sank at the ominous announcement from the heavenly messenger. The silence was broken by Yeosang's father, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Yeosang... do you not love Jiyan?" Before the king could respond, a swirl of pinkish smoke materialized before the idol of Aphrodite. The onlookers gasped in astonishment as the shape of the smoke transformed into the most exquisite figure they had ever laid eyes upon. The clouds dispersed, leaving a woman standing in their midst.

"He does not love her," the woman declared, her voice commanding attention. The king, his curiosity piqued, asked, "Who are you?" "I am Aphrodite. The very goddess your ancestry was blessed by. And today, I was humiliated by you my dear king."The moment everyone heard the name, they fell to their knees in reverence. Yeosang, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, immediately bowed before her. "Forgive me my goddess..this is not his fault but mine," he pleaded. Aphrodite scoffed. "You are not to blame, my son. It pains me that you must bear the consequences of being born to a selfish mother."

Yeosang looked up at the goddess, shocked and confused. "What do you mean, goddess?" Aphrodite directed her gaze toward the queen. "My dear Y/N took her own life because she couldn't be with her love... because someone forbade it," she said, her eyes filled with a seething hatred. Yeosang felt as if a knife had pierced his heart at the mention of Y/N's name. "Y/N... is dead?" he whispered, his voice heavy with grief. Aphrodite confirmed his worst fear with a simple nod.

Overwhelmed by despair, Yeosang pleaded with the goddess through tear-filled eyes. "My goddess, please end my life. Y/N was my everything. My existence holds no meaning without her... Please." Aphrodite regarded the young man with a mix of compassion and sorrow. "Is that truly what you desire, my son?" Yeosang nodded, his resolve unwavering. "Then it shall be so. Every resident of this kingdom shall face their demise. This love, tainted with unrequited sorrow, is corrupted by sin."

[marvel-fanfic-lover]

Hey so I've had this idea for a cute little Spencer Reid fic for a while, so I figured I'd give it a try ^-^. Ok so the idea: Reid has a cat at home (maybe Sergio) that's he's gotten into the habit of petting while reading in the evenings. On one particularly late jet flight back from a case, reader is laying asleep (or maybe just relaxing) next to him on the couch while he's reading, and he reaches out and starts petting/scratching her head out of muscle memory. And maybe it happens again and again after that, like an unspoken thing that they both enjoy?? Or maybe it makes things akward between them, as coworkers?? Please take it wherever you see fit. 💜 (but if you're a minor, please dear God do not write me smut, respectfully.)

Just one thing: if you can, could you try not to include anything about skintone? (Turning red, blushing pink. Etc.) Thanks for reading my request!

First off I love this it's so cute, and as a cat owner I love some little mentions of them in fics. Anyways this is my first fic so please no outright hate, but constructive criticism is welcome. I hope this is somewhat close to what you had in mind. Sorry for any typos I suck at spelling.

*Insert clever title here*

Spencer Reid x reader

Me and Spencer had started dating around 3 months ago and we're talking things slow and at a mutually comfortable pace. I knew he was coming home tonight and said I could wait over at his place for him to get back.

I got to his apartment and unlocked the door with the spare key he gave me to check on Sergio when he's away on a case. Sergio immediately greeted me by giving my legs a few friendly head buts. I reached down to rub his cheeks. "hey buddy," I mumbled light to him. Before stepping into the apartment, closing the door, and locking it behind me. Because I knew Spencer wouldn't have liked the idea of me leaving the door unlocked. I placed the keys on the counter before heading over to one of Spencer's many book shelves to find something to read.

After searching for a little bit I found something I hoped would be a non-science or math book, luckily for me it was. It's not that I don't admire science books but I read to help my brain slow down, not to make it wanna explode. Maybe that's just me.

I read for a while checking my phone every five minutes anxious for Spencer to get home just wanting him to be ok. Somewhere amongst the reading, time checking, and worrying I fell asleep.

Spencer pov

I finally got home to my apartment jetlagged and sleep deprived, struggling to get the key in the keyhole open my door. I walked in, set my bag down and locked up the door before heading over to the book shelf to find something to read. I plopped down on my couch before opening my book and starting to pet Sergio on the head.

Reader pov

I started to wake up gently at the feeling of my head being pet and scratched gently. I didn't mind the feeling it wasn't unwelcome, but as I began to become more aware I realized that I was on Spencer's couch in his apartment, and he was mostly likely the one petting my head. I felt my whole face heat up at the realization. On one hand I didn't want him to stop and on the other I felt as though he maybe didn't mean to be petting me. I had noticed him do a similar thing with Sergio on several occasions, I assume in his tired jetlagged state that's what he thought he was doing.

I called out his name gently hoping not to startle him. "Spencer?" "Y/n!?" He exclaimed jumping a little and quickly retracting his hand. I quickly got up from my laying position to try and calm him from his surprise. "Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you I was trying not to," "it's ok I know you didn't mean to," he responded sweetly as he always did. "I'm sorry for petting you as well." He mumbled lightly and very clearly embarrassed by his sleep deprived brain's unconscious actions. "No it's ok, I kinda enjoyed it" I said shyly "You did?" He questioned lightly. "Yeah it was soothing, made me feel calm, at peace." "I could keep doing it... I-if you'd like." He said stumbling over his words a bit. "Yeah that would be really nice." I said giving him a light peck on the lips before laying back down.

From then on it became our thing. When he'd get home from a case we'd sit and read him petting my head while we did. Sometimes he'd read to me, sometimes we'd talk about our days, other times when one of us had a shitty day we'd just sit and find comfort in each other's company. Sometimes I think Sergio got jealous of no longer getting the intention, and would hop up with me to let me pet and scratch his head.

~Ahh first fic I hope it was ok and what you had in mind with the request, and thank you for the request this was really fun and cute to write. If anyone has tips or tricks for writing please let me know. 😄

[yostresswritinggirl]

What Do You Mean I'm The New Grand Sage?!

Alhaitham, Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh x Grand Sage! Reader; separate, gender neutral

In some twisted turn of events, Lesser Lord Kusanali herself thought you are the best candidate for the position of the Akademiya's Grand Sage. From a Haravatat Researcher to soon running a whole region, how do you deal with this? And do the prodigal scholars approve of you?

'It's been weeks now and there's still no proper Grand Sage.'

'If it were me, I would have fired the two remaining sages, they might scheme as revenge.'

'How can we trust the choices of the next Grand Sage anyways? What if history repeats itself?'

Despite the House of Daena being respectfully quiet with only murmurs and mumbles from the surrounding entourage, these unspoken words taunt and occupy the mind of the Dendro Archon as she takes into account all the thoughts of her people regarding the matter.

All the candidates for the Grand Sage and other sage positions, as well as the exceptional figures of each darshan (some of which are familiar to her) crowd around the table where the Lesser Lord situated herself.

Unfortunately, based on Nahida's standards, none of them qualify for the position.

"Lesser Lord Kusanali?" Opening her eyes, Nahida tilts her head to the Scribe situated on a seat next to her, a quill unused in his hand. "Is something the matter?"

"Just deep in thought." Crossing her arms, the god of wisdom would hum to herself as she tapped her chin. "For example, what would the new Grand Sage do once they get appointed?" And with that, she closed her eyes again.

As expected, more thoughts filtered through her mind as the audience took the bait and began pondering on the provoking question in their minds.

'Just do what the past Grand Sage did? Minus the evil? This is easy.'

'As a Grand Sage, I would probably fire all the personnel, they can't be trusted.'

'Cultivate wisdom and govern Sumeru as best as possible, right?'

'With the Lesser Lord in power, probably just answer to what she wants.'

'Hm, to what extent did Azar mess up the system anyways? It would definitely be good to fix the things that he deliberately abused as soon as possible, right? The unnecessary laws, look into the international affair decisions he's done too, he might have signed contracts that would be damaging to Sumeru in the long run -'

A hit! But an unfamiliar voice. Opening her eyes, the god of wisdom looked around the area to look for the voice to match a face.

"Are you looking for something, Lord Kusanali?" Cyno straightened up on his stance by her side as he watched the archon stand on her seat. The action urged him to scan the area too, albeit for different reasons.

'Why am I thinking about this right now? I should really hurry home -'

"Over there!" The crowd parts like the sea as everyone in the area turned towards someone in researcher garb. Which looks to be... drenched in water. Looking up from wringing the sleeves of your robe, you finally notice all the attention on you.

"Ah! Sorry about the mess, I fell in the fountain in front of -"

"You shall be the new Grand Sage, (Y/N)."

The whole Akademiya seemed to have quieted down to the point that you could hear the individual droplets of water splatter from your hair on to the marble flooring of the House of Daena.

"Huh?"

And like catharsis, everyone exploded in exclamations of disbelief. Including you.

"With their determination alone, their steadfast effort is enough to shape them to the right person to hold the title of Grand Sage."

With the absence of the Akasha Terminal and the person that holds records of documentations and research, Alhaitham was reasonably the person that people flocked towards for information about you. Despite the inconvenience, there are a lucky few that the Scribe entertained.

The male personally knows you as a Haravatat graduate who researched about the current civilization and quality of life of Sumeru in great detail, something that honored your name for being their darshan's most cited thesis. And when asked about your eligibility to be the next Grand Sage, he repeats those words, even when the archon herself asked.

After all, he himself had been privy to that determination. Your dedication to graduate and use your knowledge to create something worthwhile, beneficial, purposeful. A kind of vigor for knowledge so pure and immense that not even he remembers having the same amount of passion.

Even now as he pretends to be occupied with his book, he watches as you practically lay on the huge table for Azar the Grand Sage in exhaustion, Alhaitham was confident that your sighs results from your worry of finding the best solution.

He lowers his eyes back to the pages just in time with you finally lifting your head. "Alhaitham?" He pretends the small smile was out of politeness, not because you have yet to get accustomed to being entirely formal with him.

"Yes, Future Grand Sage?" Alhaitham masks his voiceless laugh with the book in his hand at the sight of you huffing, sputtering at the foreign title.

"Azar had you draft the gazette when he makes up a new law or order, right?" He nods, you grip your head as if you were having a headache, which is quite likely at this point. "If you don't mind, do you think you can give me a copy of all of the laws he created? And the meeting transcripts too?"

"That is certainly doable. However," you straightened up when Alhaitham stood across the table to stare you eye to eye, placing his book on your table. "That would be hundreds of documents to go through, are you sure you're able to utilize that amount for your perusing?"

The expression on your face showed that you haven't exactly accounted that part. But there it was, that flicker in your eyes that captures you so perfectly, the perseverance that had always kept you afloat. Now he can bare witness to it. "I'm sure."

Even if he didn't have to, Alhaitham stayed by your side the whole time, assisting you about certain laws and contexts if you ever needed it.

And when you fell asleep on the table after hours of reading, he immediately placed his cape on your shoulders, because you needed it.

Surprisingly enough, Alhaitham is the one who puts in a good word about your designation out of all of them.

What they're unaware of is that he's quite fond of you and your prestige, being in the same darshan had him subtly defending you from the rumors other darshans/candidates spread.

You should be grateful that you have Alhaitham as your Scribe. Not only is he meticulous and dedicated to his work, but he acts as your assistant with how closely related your positions are.

Perhaps his usefulness and help also stems with the fact that he was the most recommended candidate before he declined, and the knowledge he had honestly makes him look like your master and you his apprentice.

A lot of times, you end up comparing yourself to him when you feel like you're lacking.

Thankfully, Alhaitham's perceptive made him aware of your tells, and knows when you're having such thoughts. He would try to derail that train of thought immediately, subtly remind you of your progress, or straight up tell you you're wrong.

For such an emotionless co-worker, he sure does well with being your hypeman.

"A lack of harmonious relationship with the archon, even with the people of Sumeru, became the downfall of Azar, . That level of respect is crucial in ensuring that history would not repeat itself."

As Lesser Lord Kusanali's main guardian, it was only logical that his beliefs about what the new grand sage should embody reflects that. And perhaps there were also some details that influenced his opinion, details that he would never elaborate on.

This isn't the first time he had been less receptive to the decisions of the archon (the first being the punishment of the Sages, if you can even call it that) but this one has more potential to go awry than any other.

His cold stare only grew colder, sharper, now that you've been assigned the highest seat in the Akademiya. You can tell his prejudices without him having to spell it out.

The harshest of glares usually happen when you request an audience with the god of wisdom, him always standing by her side in case you become hostile. Which is honestly quite a hilarious take - you? Harming a god? But with the history of the previous Grand Sage's you can't exactly call his fault.

In your case however, despite the stories of Cyno's job as the General Mahamatra, you never once feared the possibility of his judgment on you as an academic. After all, if you had done nothing bad, then you're out of his case, right? So as far as you know, this is your first time knowing about each other's presence.

Although, being nominated after you fell in the Akademiya's fountain and made a mess everywhere you walked certainly isn't the best first impression.

However, after one too many times you feel a chill up your spine yet see no one when you look around the area for a possible cause, you're starting to suspect that he may know you more than you know him.

"She's currently resting in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, don't -"

"Ah, no, I'm not here to ask about Lesser Lord Kusanali today." At your sheepish demeanor, Cyno opted to close his mouth and wait for your reason to approach him. So you continued. "I was actually hoping if you could accompany me to Aaru Village."

"The desert?" Why him?

"I've heard that you've been closely working with Lesser Lord Kusanali to rebuild the relations with the desert side of Sumeru." Your fidgeting made him notice the thick notebook tucked under your arm. "I wanted to ask questions about the details, as well as see for myself what else could be done."

There was a long pause of silence that passed by with you mostly avoiding looking into his eyes directly. Humbled but respectful. Cyno sighs. "You're not in proper attire to journey to the desert, nor do you have the proper equipment." Your gaze followed his retreating form until he stopped and looked over his shoulder to you. "Are you coming or what? Standing around does not count as preparing."

"Right! I'm on it!"

It was a long process, but you managed to convince Cyno of your worth, especially when it comes to your efforts to help the desert. He had seen it all himself and at this point he couldn't deny it any further.

Cyno would find his tailing to be out of security instead of suspicion, often times finding himself walking by your side as your protector whenever you had to go out. After all, you're still an important figure, your safety is high priority.

Soon, it would be you who he would go to concerning updates about the desert, hearing out your efforts for rehabilitation. Your desert internship program to help Setaria with her education efforts is by far his favorite.

Despite being the General Mahamatra, he found a bit of his job description changing: being the protector of the Dendro Archon and the new Grand Sage.

Whenever you have to cross to the desert to either talk with the village chief or negotiate with the Eremites, he would always find time in his schedule to be your escort.

Perhaps it was his mistake to doubt Alhaitham's judgment on this one. At the very least, Cyno became your ever reliable check-and-balance.

"At the end of the day, well intentions are enough of a factor to understand the path one would trek no matter the adversaries."

Tighnari was positive that he wouldn't have to deal with the Akademiya anymore after Lesser Lord Kusanali, maybe even enjoy a more peaceful life in the forest now that the Withering had stopped spawning together with Eleazar disappearing.

But of course, the exiled sages just had to be dropped into his forest for their 'tap on the wrist' punishment. Perhaps that would be the end of the Akademiya pestering him now that there's no need to exploit him for some evil scheme.

Well, the world had never been to kind to the forest watcher, what would make this any different? The hybrid would sigh as he watched a group donning Akademiya robes approach Ghandarva Ville, none of which he's familiar with.

This is a larger group compared to the ones the previous sages trying to coerce him back to the city brought - now that he squints, there seem to be Corps of Thirsty members tailing the group, too. This doesn't bode well at all.

At least Cyno's there. "And what business do you have in Ghandarva Ville to cause such a ruckus so early in the day?" Straight to the point, Tighnari stares dryly at the person that seems to be in charge of the group.

However, at the sight of Cyno freezing up in his peripheral, the forest watcher immediately realized that this is unlike any other encounters he had dealt with. Unlike the arrogance of the other scholars and sages, he could see how you looked conflicted from speaking.

"Seeing as you don't look to be well-informed," ah there's the Akademiya scholar he expected. The researcher gestures to you. "The Future Grand Sage is here to see the exiled former sages in hopes to interview them about their previous positions."

He wants to bite back, he really does - why was he not informed beforehand? Why are there so many personnel with you? How sure are they that you are not trying to conspire with Azar? Why are YOU the next grand sage?

"Alright." And he will never admit the relief he felt when your despondent look immediately lifted at his response. "It's a bit of a walk from here. And being the person assigned to oversee their training, I would like to be there during the exchange too."

"Thank you." You cut off the arrogant spokesperson before he even uttered a single word of protest, presenting a bulky journal in your hand to the forest watcher. "I actually prepared a set of questions to ask that you could verify -"

Old habits die hard, and admittedly, Tighnari didn't want to treat you more than the people he works with everyday, the people around you can easily do that for him. But he refrained from letting any past prejudice cloud his judgment on your character: there is undoubtedly something different about you in comparison to the old sages, and he didn't want his attitude to change that.

One day during one of your many visits however, Tighnari may have spilled a bit about his discontent about the attention your entourage brings to his forest. Even with you next in charge, he still dislikes bringing the affairs of the Akademiya to the forest rangers' territory.

He thought his words was out of pocket when letters of notice regarding your arrival ceased. Did you get all the information you needed from the sages? Or was what he said finally drove you away? That wasn't at all his intentions.

One random encounter brought him answer when the suspicious cloaked figure waving at him from behind a tree turned out to be you. "You said you didn't want my personnel to come so I decided to visit discreetly from now on."

At least you were... considerate. Conversation came easy without multiple glares constantly stabbing him in the back, talking about your progress as well as the conditions of Ghandarva Ville on the way to the training area of the sages.

While he was wary and skeptical about your appointment despite his utmost trust in the dendro archon's judgment, Tighnari soon came to accept your honesty and determination.

That transparency and good-intended perseverance are what Azar lacked, but under your rule, perhaps Sumeru would really be in good hands now.

Tighnari leaned against the tree as he watched your passionate discussion with the previous Haravatat sage. Undeniably, you as you are now without the title, greatly reminds him of someone dear.

"We've long realized that wisdom alone begets arrogance. Perhaps fixing the prejudices against the pursuit of art and whatever this and that Azar has gotten his grubby hands on should be first priority."

"Let me through! I must speak with them, this is important matter, too! If the new grand sage is really -"

Turning your head towards the commotion, your conversation with Alhaitham ended shortly as a tuft of blonde became visible from the sea of Mahamata's trying to keep him away from you.

Patting the imaginary dust off his sleeves, Kaveh would look into your baffled gaze with unyielding resolve. "I've heard you had been meticulously gathering the opinions of Sumeru and thought I could be of help."

"Exercise some tact, Kaveh, we're in the presence of the appointed Grand Sage here."

"I don't need your sass today, Scribe -"

"No, it's fine, Alhaitham. I was actually planning on talking to Kaveh at some point, anyways." Wait, you are? Kaveh dumbfoundedly asked as he watched you move a few books around to get to a worn out journal under the pile. "I assume you're here to represent the arts."

Besides the conversation, Kaveh insists he takes you out to the Bazaar and his magnum opus to properly showcase the culture. Alhaitham, who looked positively displeased of the impromptu outing, had to stay back to focus on documenting a new batch of submitted thesis.

It was endearing to see someone as passionate about change in Sumeru as you talk about the harmful acts Azar published against the Bazaar and the pursuit of arts. Well, what else can you expect from the Light of the Kshahrewar?

Talking to him about anything and everything felt like you were conversing with friends, a very vocal and expressive friend. Especially when you're introduced to the Palace of Alcazarzaray, something he looks at with both pride and regret.

"I am simply making sure that Alhaitham had not brainwashed you with his sense of morality. Knowing him, you won't gather such thoughts about the importance of arts from him."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." You really were, after running around from here to both ends of Sumeru, you're very grateful that your source of info decided to come to you instead. "It's not an easy feat trying to undo 500 years worth of corruption."

"I can already see how Sumeru would be under your care." He flashes a genuine smile. "Thank you for hearing me out as well, future Grand Sage, I'm rooting for you. You're already doing much better than the previous Grand Sage."

It was a simple reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, but when he finally sobered up from the feeling of elation, Kaveh can't help but scream to his pillow about how buddy-buddy he acted to THE FUTURE GRAND SAGE!

Kaveh offers a fresh perspective and a lighter, reassuring encouragement in comparison. Perhaps being the person who knows less of the details helped form a positive judgment.

Like Tighnari, he keeps a level-headed approach when it comes to your position, but less about respect and more on shared beliefs.

When it comes to efforts to rehabilitate certain areas, Kaveh is always quick to offer his guidance and opinion. He knows you trust him due to his honesty and genuine want for a better future for Sumeru.

He's also the type to casually waltz in to your office when he has a brilliant idea or important information to share. At this point, he's talked to you more than the new Kshahrewar sage - if he's so adamant to be heard, why didn't he accept the nomination?

Whenever he stumbles upon you when you're outside or he sees you pondering the giant orb™ in your office, he's quick to voice his concern and urge you to take a break.

His intentions recently are hard to read, but he really does believe in you, and he's not shy to voice that fact.

You just find yourself missing the quietness of your office before Alhaitham and Kaveh's banter in front of your table became commonplace.

"The Akademiya and Sumeru as a whole would surely flourish under this new samsara if I were to lead it with you by my side."

Lesser Lord Kusanali gives a knowing look at the sight of you standing straight in the presence of the archon, opting to offer your seat (which she declined) and refusing to sit down as a sign of respect.

She didn't need to read your mind to know. "How have you been? I've heard from the others that you've been working really hard to prepare for your inauguration."

Conscious, you pulled at the grey sleeve signifying your position as the current sage of Haravatat. Admittedly, it was a little stiff and stuffy for you, thicker and more uncomfortable than your uniforms in the Akademiya as a scholar and researcher. You missed those times.

"I've gathered a lot of opinions and information about operating as a sage as well as the current matters of Sumeru." Nahida smiles widely at this, before her expression faltered when you still had a bothered look on your face.

As far as she knows, you've gathered all the resources you need, more than you need even. So why do you seem troubled still despite your meticulous preparation? "Is there something in your mind?"

"I don't - I respect your wisdom, I really do and I'm honored that you think of me this way. But I'm - is this really the right decision? Am I really fit for this?"

Oh, so it's about that! You looked up from your journal laying on the table at the sound of the dendro archon's giggles, not at all expecting that reaction. Was your question that laughable?

"Not at all, I'm just amazed that you haven't noticed." Floating over to where you stood, her tiny hands reached up to give you - head pats? Embarrassed but too scared to deny, you took the gesture. "Since that day, I was certain that there would be no other puzzle piece that would fit the position of Grand Sage other than you."

You part your lips to interject, but she was quicker.

"And besides, there are many who share my view. I'm not the only one who believes in you, and you will see it for yourself when the time comes."

"When the time comes?" Holding on to your hand, Nahida starts pulling you towards the elevator and out of the House of Daena. Only when you reached the double doors of the Akademiya did she finally let go.

"You have these doubts because you are a good person, (Y/N). And even then, your own thoughts cloud your mind from seeing that the only person that doubts you now," Nahida would gesture towards the door. "Is you."

Looking back and forth between the entrance and Nahida's encouraging smile, you took a deep breath before pushing open the door -

Only to be met by a roar of cheers and explosion of applause.

Your fellow Sages, Alhaitham, Cyno, Kaveh, even Tighnari (with his ears pressed down) stood near the entrance with smiles of their own. But looking past the Akademiya staff and scholars, a crowd made up of Sumeru citizens from Port Ormos, the Bazaar, Ghandarva Ville, and even Aaru Village occupy the platform and every inch of the paths going up and down the Divine Tree.

Their collective chants mixed together to convey their utmost respect and belief in you.

"Every single one of them are here to root for you," turning to your side, Nahida stood next to you with a gray hat cradled on her palms. "Grand Sage."

Biting your lip to stop a big wobbly grin, you finally let out a relieved sigh as you kneeled in front of the god of wisdom, closing your eyes as she walked forward to place the hat of the Grand Sage on your head.

"People of Sumeru, may I present to you the new Grand Sage, (Y/N)."

The overwhelming amount of support from everyone made you take off your monocle to rub at your eyes.

And when your biggest supporters stepped forward to congratulate you, everything felt just right.

You got this.

Can't believe my random idea got written first lmaao alright we're in the good feels arc now

@ireallylikehamsters

[meowzfordayz]

slow eater

Author’s Note: this is SO LONG. 😅 Idea for this came to me while eating brunch today bc HeLp my appetite and eating speed are small and slow and laughable. Also… HeLp again bc there are so many Hashira ?? 😭

slow eater

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~2,700

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content, mild violence, traumatic references

~faqs~

Gyomei’s a sweetheart With excellent time management Plans his meals to line up with either the beginning or end of yours —He initially approached you, very respectfully, with a proposal for mealtimes “Would you prefer to have my company for the first or last hour of your meals?” You almost teasingly responded, “Neither.” But you figured he would cry before he could recognize your playful tone So you opted for, “Whichever is most convenient for you” It’s helpful when he joins you at the beginning Because you miss him as soon as he’s gone And eat hurriedly to be able to go find him But you love when he joins you at the end You’ve generally resigned yourself to foods naturally eaten at room temperature Dumplings don’t stay hot Ice cream melts to soup And you wish you could enjoy a full cup of tea that actually scalds your tongue But, alas You can’t Anyway When he joins you at the end He’ll often bring a warm addition for your meal A flaky pastry Or a tiny bowl of ramen broth Bite sized Gulp sized —You don’t talk much over meals Don’t talk with your mouth full? More like can’t talk with your mouth full. More talking = less eating, and less eating = more time wasted Okay, okay not wasted But like, people have things to do, places to be, things to see And Gyomei isn’t just “people” He’s a Hashira! So like Things to do, places to be, things to see x 1 million Your unspoken compromise is he doesn’t eat with you very much So when he does He, his time, his energy, his focus It’s all yours Only yours But you still don’t talk much over meals Because when you first started eating together

Before he came up with his proposal; before your unspoken compromise

There were multiple occasions where you finished lunch… And then it was time for dinner

You snooze, you lose He doesn’t wait for you —Ever That being said, he does check in on you Typically you take 2-3 hours If you take less, then he worries If you take more, then he worries Which is why he checks in on you When you eat faster than anticipated, he swoops in and hassles you “Are you feeling okay?” “Did you forget to eat yesterday?” “Did you like that meal?” he’s already memorized the recipe, just in case And when you eat slower? You’ve either fallen asleep Or are plaintively pushing the lingering tidbits of your meal around “Did I give you too much?” He has yet to stumble upon the perfect [y/n] serving size “Does it taste awful?” One time he mixed up salt and sugar “What’s going on?” This question he’ll ask quietly His trademark strictness mellowed by genuine concern Sometimes it’s something silly “I lost track of time winning an argument against Tomioka-san” … in your head, that is But other times, it’s serious He’ll stare hyper focused on the tears shimmering in your eyes And spring into action Food? Saved for later Dishes? Cleared You? In his arms, breathing shakily “I’m here,” he’ll rub your hip in gentle circles “I’m here…” he’ll murmur into your shoulder And gradually, you tell him Sometimes it’s waking up with the weight of death clinging to your shadow Other times it’s struggling to get through the day without thinking, without missing, past companions He understands All Too Well (Taylor’s Version) He listens He knows Harshness has no place when it comes to matters of your heart

Sit down meals? —Nah Mitsuri insists on feeding you on the go You feel childish walking around beside her as she carries “[y/n]-chan’s splendid lunchbox!” But she’s quick to shush you “I can’t sit and eat from daybreak to day’s end,” she reminds you fondly “Yet I selfishly want you with me,” you blush at her forwardness “So let me be with you!” You acquiesce Not that you have much of a choice You’re totally enamored And like, totally aware that your slow eating isn’t her fault It’s merely a symptom/side effect/unfortunate reality of loving you Which means [y/n]-chan’s splendid lunchbox? —Becomes a known entity Gyomei sniffles the first time he spies Mitsuri feeding you, “So cute. So considerate!” Obanai snorts, “I guess that’s one solution.” Shinobu asks Mitsuri where she got the lunchbox, “Perhaps we could supply the corps with them? They seem much more effective than bundles and wraps.” Mitsuri’s glare is unexpected This splendid lunchbox is [y/n]-chan’s! Shinobu doesn’t ask again Kyojuro laughs heartily in approval, “Splendid indeed!” While Sanemi makes gagging noises, “Pathetic.” Mitsuri leaves a warranted bruise on his shoulder for that Muichiro doesn’t quite get it, but nods regardless And Giyuu hardly quirks an eyebrow, gesturing indifferently, “How nice of you.” “You call that a FLASHY lunchbox?” Tengen exclaims You don’t care how confident that man is You take one glance at Mitsuri Clutching your splendid lunchbox embarrassedly And you stomp over to Mr. Flashy-Flamboyant-Obnoxious-Hunk-of-Man “Uzui. Tengen. My lunchbox is flashier than any gift you could ever dream of giving. That lunchbox? Is Kanroji-sama’s affection, compassion, and generosity all in one,” you exhale menacingly, “And you WILL apologize”. Mitsuri squeaks Tengen squeaks You saunter back to Mitsuri and gently pat her cheek “Mitsuri-san? I’m hungry.” Wordlessly, blushing rose from the tips of her toes to the tip of her nose, she opens your splendid lunchbox and feeds you some leftover fried unagi

She’s super smart Extremely intelligent Figured out how to circumvent your slow eating from day 1 How? Lots of SMALL meals Breakfast, lunch, and dinner aren’t a thing with you Nope, nope, nope With you it’s: —good morning munch —2 hours later snack —midday assortment —2 hours later hanger soothe —dinner tasting menu —before bedtime last call Alternatively, imagine all the meals the hobbits from LOTR eat; i.e. second breakfast She doesn’t care how you eat when she’s not around But she lovingly refuses to attempt any semblance of a proper meal when you’re together And tbh, you’ve completely switched to the small meals model Because suddenly, you’ve found yourself with so much more TIME Time to wash laundry after dinner before bed Versus having to wake up asscrack early to squeeze it in before breakfast Time to fit in an extra sparring round before lunch Versus bowing out early because you know if you don’t start eating lunch soon, then your day’s plan is screwed Hmm Maybe you’ll use some of your newfound time to handmake Shinobu something for her birthday… After all, she’s the reason you even have the time!

Doesn’t faze him Really he doesn’t mind Mostly because: if you’re eating, then he’s eating Proportions don’t exist He thinks he’s super sneaky He’s not He’s super thoughtful though! Decided long ago when he realized you take basically forever to never leave you alone Cafe, restaurant, food stall, your place, his place, anyone’s place Wherever He stops when you stop Doesn’t want you to fixate on how much time has passed Just wants you to feel at ease  And full And satisfied —In fact He’d love to eat with you a lot more than he does But eating with you is, ngl, expensive ?? Because like, he eats for as long as you eat And he eats p fast So that’s A LOT of food And yeah, he’s a Hashira Unlimited salary But he doesn’t like to think of himself as a glutton Absolutely not Kyojuro’s a gentleman fo shizzle Waiting ever so kindly for you Umai! P.S. The one time he rushed you resulted in a lot of burping and moaning about not feeling well Never again He’d rather grow a few grey hairs than hear any hint of discomfort in your voice

You’re so so so speedy when it comes to Everything else? So Sanemi was in for a rude awakening when he finally ate one-on-one with you Like All the previous times he thought he wanted to strangle you? Those were simply… A result of his simmering, growing, uncomfortably undeniable love for you  He’s acknowledged and addressed and yada yada that love since then Believed he was good to go No more strangulation impulses

Correction: now they’re purely sexual But FOR FUCK’S SAKE —How does he tell you he never wants to eat with you one-on-one again without breaking your stupid heart and feeling like an idiot dickhead? “Why do ya eat normally with everyone else?”  Might as well start somewhere “What?” you’re not offended Just, confused Sanemi is the opposite of a small talk person ?? I am not an asshole. This is a reasonable question to ask. I am not an asshole. I am not an… “You eat normally with everyone else, and then we sit down to eat, just the two of us, and ya eat slower than someone without any fucking teeth.” Deer in headlights You’re even more confused, and also now a little offended “You’re the crankiest, most restless man, since like, cranky and restless came into being, so I don’t think your opinion counts,” you snap He’s seething “AT LEAST I WON’T DIE FROM OLD AGE WITHOUT EVEN FINISHING MY BOWL OF UDON.” —You’re unimpressed “Nemi.” Phew. If they’re using my nickname, then they can’t be too pissed… “You’re going to scream in pain when I stab your eyeballs out with my chopsticks because apparently I can’t even eat in peace without riling you up.” You smile pleasantly “But I certainly won’t kill you, because then who would stay with me while I eat?” Sanemi’s very proud of how his hands don’t move even slightly toward your neck “Compromise.” You gasp in feigned delight, “Are you asking me to define that word for you, or are you using it?” He snarls, “Compromise.” “What’s your compromise, Nemi?” “I will eat with you, just us, from time to time. But I get to choose when, where, and what.” “Not good enough Nemi,” you singsong … He carefully tackles you in an instant You’re stuck with your back on his chest His legs pinning yours to the ground Arms locking your wiggling torso in place “My last meal before a mission, and my first meal after, are yours.” But. That. Is. It. “Are you going to tickle me?” you huff “Do you accept my terms and conditions, bitch?” he huffs back “You love me?” you whisper His arms loosen, hands slipping familiarly under your waistband, fingernails grazing delicately along your hips “You’re dumb for having to ask.” You giggle “Do you accept my terms and conditions?” he presses his thumb demandingly into the softness of your inner thigh “Only if you eat with me now,” you mutter cheekily, “It’s almost dinnertime.” All he hears is “Only if you eat me out.”

He’d forget why y’all were even there if your unfinished food wasn’t a constant reminder Sometimes you have the same conversation over and over again It’s actually pretty fun You’re glad you can recycle the same jokes And he doesn’t mind being asked to reheat your food Once Twice Three times? Although he does occasionally ponder why your food’s cold in the first place He forgets that you’re actually at like, the fourth place —Early dinners confuse him Because it’s light out when y’all start And out of nowhere, the moon’s shining He doesn’t mind though He always make a point to hold on to the sound of you giggling at your own jokes Even if he never remembers the jokes themselves “Why is the grass so dangerous?” he says one afternoon “Why?” your eyes widen excitedly “I was hoping you’d know the answer,” he admits sheepishly. “I only remember the first part of the joke.” You grumble good naturedly It’s not like you’d told him that joke six times over breakfast earlier seven times, it was seven “Because it’s full of blades,” you huff Full of blades! He likes that one Cause, yanno Blades Wait What’s full of blades?

Giyuu’s straightforward “You’re a slow eater.” He’s not unkind Just matter of factly Thing is You endear him He loves how you poke at your meals Not in distaste Just in an entirely unbothered manner How you get sidetracked rambling on and on Tangenting from here to there Spiraling into who knows what He’s tracked your train of thought before Pineapple to ceramics to shoes, then elbows, cats, and snow He could pretend to make sense of you But like You definitely don’t make sense He probably shouldn’t let you prattle on as much as he does But he’s just so hopeless He surrenders countless hours to your musings and wonderments Sometimes, after eating with you, he feels like he’s returning from a fever dream Wtf If it were anyone else, he’d feel overwhelmed Frankly, you do overwhelm him But if your mind is a fever dream Then he never wants to wake up Giyuu isn’t the chattiest of men And you chat enough for the both of you He appreciates that immensely Eating with you Is when he feels the least pressured No pressure to say something Meaningful Powerful Eloquent You just present question after question And half the time he doesn’t even get around to answering Because then you’re mumbling about squid and blue glass and the scent of cotton To clarify He feels heard Like When he’s in a bad mood You pick up on it immediately And gently coax him into saying Whatever’s troubling him Somehow, you provide precisely what he needs Nothing more Nothing less Only you could obliviously talk and talk and maintain his utmost attention Only you could unwittingly create the right size, shape, and amount of space For him to feel —Safe

You whine when you’re left to your own devices So he’s started doing his nightly training in the kitchen Or enlists Hina, Makio, and Suma to save him from having to watch you painstakingly eat another singular grain of rice —Your eating is truly the least flamboyant event he’s ever had to experience And he experiences it far too frequently Unfortunately, nightly training in the kitchen may not be the greatest solution anymore You tend to get distracted horny “Tennngen-saaama! I keep dropping my riiice!” And then “How about you come feed me?” He’s down bad for how exaggeratedly you bat your eyelashes don’t worry; his cock is definitely up; no issues there He feels badly for all the food waste he knows he’s responsible for his cock has no regrets —When Hina’s with you she cleans up the kitchen Heck, she can usually get through the entire cycle of washing, drying, and putting away the evening’s dishes And then organizes the junk drawer Keeps her busy, at least Actually sitting across from you while you eat rice is definitely cruel and unusual punishment Best to keep busy —Makio’s an expert at goading you into eating faster She doesn’t have the patience to coddle you “For fuck’s sake [y/n].” “Do you have any idea how infuriating this is?” “Every meal. Hours and hours and hours.” You feel terribly — you know you’re slow asf Makio’s conscience falters at your guilt ridden expression But it’s worth it She gets herself you out of the kitchen faster than anyone else —Suma lowkey loves being put on prevent-[y/n]-from-whining duty You see, she’s an avid reader Well If she had enough time to read, then she would be So getting “stuck” in the kitchen with you just means she gets to read Aloud To you It’s adorable Highkey everyone, Tengen, Hina, and Makio, loves when Suma’s on duty You? Not so much She chooses the corniest, repetitive stories But ugh. Oh well Sometimes you purposely eat even slower with Suma You may dislike her taste in stories But she’s precious And she deserves to get her reading in

[shyvioletlife]

I finally have a quiet moment so I wanted to write down my thoughts about Andera and Binx's relationship.

From the get-go I've deeply deeply appreciated Omar making Andhera ace - the fact that he didn't originally intend that for the character, that andhera was supposed to be the brooding romantic hero of a regency story all the way until omar opened his mouth, is just so intensely relatable. I love andhera's absolute inability to flirt, to grasp what someone would do to successfully seduce someone, the utter panic at thinking that someone has fallen in love with him and immediately running to bring that back to friendship because, respectfully, no. All of that is done with the mask up, trying to maintain the facade of alloness in a society that demands it.

Their relationship with binx has become something precious to me. It began with friendship, two people who happened to meet in the first episode and managed to bond through their complementary energies. Andhera is extremely awkward as they try to maintain the mask he believes is necessary to maintain his image, but is very genuine and straightforward in their attempts to make a connection, make friends, with the people they like. Where Andhera is a stuttering mess, Gwyn/Binx doesn't mince words and simply says whatever is on their mind, but in an equally socially awkward way of saying the quiet things loudly. She is also extremely straightforward and heartfelt in her intentions. It makes so much sense to me that two people earnestly seeking friendships in both word and action would fall in line with one another so easily.

From the start, they were both looking to one another a helping hand, for friendship, for companionship in a harsh and unforgiving world. You can see it in Gwyn asking andhera for help during the Hart Hunt. In andhera's shell pal letter that followed that cemented their friendship (My Dearest Gwyndolin, no you're not *MY* dearest anything. YOUR Dearest Gwyndolin) And then Binx revealed their true form during the battle for the crystal heart and Andhera *knew* who she was. Andhera, who had spent the entirety of the maze game pondering deeply about who was worthy of the heart, asking the hedge and the universe and magic at large for guidance only to find it in his hands. Had seen Binx in her true form, and decided to trust them and trust that whatever purpose they had for hiding herself was good, and handed over the crystal heart.

Within a day of that, he learns binx's truth at the tailor shop - the loss of their court, the purpose they have for being at the bloom - and their relationship blooms even further. Suddenly this is not just someone he wants to know and comes to trust, but is someone with a purpose and a vision worth protecting. Andhera’s oath is the truest form of companionship they can offer. Devotion to a mutual cause, one born of care and respect, and a promise to be there for binx in the hardest moments, the ones where you most desperately need someone to rely on. In many ways this is the deepest form of love I can conceive of. It promises an end to loneliness. For both of them.

When andhera offers everyone a place at his court, I can hear the threads of desire and regret of that desire in how binx responds by saying she cannot join another court when she is the last of her own, before extending the offer themself. It’s honestly a little earth shattering (actually very earth shattering lol) when andhera ends up accepting their invitation because it is one step yet closer. One more action to consciously intertwine their lives together. This moment is not one of voicing I love you’s and promises for a future together, but of making those unspoken words a reality.

Binx responds by doing everything they can to help andhera become the truest version of himself in turn - removing the shard and finally giving him full control over his life and magic. Full control, even, of their ability as a prince, as the future leader of the unseelie court. They can step into the new future they fought to make as equals who can lean on one another for support and understanding, for companionship in any and all forms it takes.

My dear Binx. That simple greeting speaks more than I can put into words. Andhera and binx have chosen to belong to one another in a way feels itself to be beyond romance, beyond the throes of passion or desire. Their relationship is a closeness that is explicitly ace, and feels to me to be explicitly aromantic as well. It is simply binx and andhera choosing one another time and time again.

[angeldcgs]

it was easy for bronte to spew vague wisdom and toothless criticisms of the very conditions that had handed her everything she had. she’d never known, and hopefully never would know, true struggle, and because of that she was automatically detached from everyone she was claiming to help. just because she couldn’t relate to their struggles, that didn’t mean she couldn’t empathize, though. hearing rufus explain the conditions he’d lived in for most of his life, bronte felt an ache in her chest that still hadn’t fully cleared. only when he was inside her did the sympathy pain truly begin to ease, and even then, she still hadn’t been able to teach him to last long enough for it to count. she was more than patient and nurturing enough for the job— all the more reason to have him stay with her permanently. “no, i know,” she backtracked hastily, tone and expression laced with genuine concern. “i didn’t mean it like that, i just meant love from a caretaker. from the person who’s supposed to teach you how to be a person.” for all their father’s royal fuck ups, he did manage to manufacture the perfect disciple to bronte’s messiah, and a damn good guard dog should she ever be able to win gus over. “we’ve been seeing each other for almost two months now, so i figured… it might seem soon for some people, but i would’ve asked him after the first week if i could’ve.” overwhelming him with everything she had to offer all at once would’ve been too much for him to handle, and might’ve ended up scaring him off altogether. even though she was moving at a much slower pace than she would with her other recruits, she was still throwing him into the deep end before he’d fully learned to swim, toeing a delicate line between coddling his sensitivities and testing his physical and mental limitations. things would likely progress at a snail’s pace with gus, but with rufus around as her source of instant gratification, she didn’t mind the frustration that would come along with butting heads constantly. “i’m not running a charity,” she scoffed, though she’d looked into registering as one for the tax break. “and he’s not really a stray, is he? since he’s got you…” using his own rhetoric against him; she was sure he’d love that. “i never expected for things to happen like this, i didn’t go out looking for him. we found each other for a reason, clearly that means something, right? and it’s not just about me wanting to rescue him, he’s giving me just as much, if not more, than what i’m giving him.” it was hard to compare abstract concepts like that when they were each bringing vastly different things to the table. bronte’s “help” came with an unspoken catch, while rufus supported and obeyed her word unconditionally. “i know you are, you’ve been doing an amazing job providing for rufus so far,” she made sure to give gus the proper credit, showing respect by acknowledging all he’d done to keep them afloat this long. “how much is your rent?” switching to a more practical angle would be hard to refute; if gus said no, he’d have to explain why he passed up on ridiculously cheap housing just to keep rufus away from his precious bronte. “i’m not offering out of pity, either. it just seems dumb not to when i have the resources, it feels selfish. i happen to have been really lucky in some ways, i got pretty much everything i wanted growing up, except love; that’s really the only thing i’m after now.” how could he argue with that? he could believe what he wanted about her true feelings and intentions, but he had no way to prove she was pretending, especially not when he saw how they interacted with each other. “you can still be a family, i’m not trying to take that away from you. but, respectfully, you can’t keep rufus all to yourself. he’s a grown man, he should be given the agency to make decisions about his own life.”

gus didn't feel like he had been afforded the privilege of making mistakes, not with the predicament that life had put him and his brother in. he couldn't trust the wrong person or miscalculate a decision, things were hard enough as it was, they were barely getting through the day and while rufus had adapted quickly to the change of scenery, gus was carrying the weight of what he'd had to do to help them escape alongside having to try and keep them alive in a world neither of them fully understood. rufus got to run off and join some weird group and not think about any of the repercussions, that job was left to his brother. he listened with a stoic expression as bronte explained what her group was, offering the exact kind of bullshit he'd been expecting but had probably worked wonders on his naive younger brother. she wasn't wrong, the society he'd come back to was awful, nothing like he'd been hoping for upon deciding that he couldn't live another day out in the wilderness. at the mention of his childhood, gus tensed up, his shoulders drawn high and his jaw clenched in annoyance at someone who knew nothing about him or his family discussing their life. he had purposefully kept it quiet, the last thing he wanted was for the story to become sensationalized, and treated like something gossipworthy. rufus hadn't seemed to get the message and was comfortable talking about what it had been like for them with anyone, though he knew better than to share all of the gruesome details. how much had he told bronte? how much leverage did she now have over him? the issue with honesty was that it let people get close which was simply not something he was comfortable with, not after everything he'd been through at the hands of someone he thought loved and cared about him. he bit back the urge to question how it could have hurt her so deeply to hear about their past when she barely knew them now. it was easy to see how rufus had gotten so caught up in such a short period of time, she seemed sweet, something almost maternal about the way she claimed to care about what happened to them but it was fake, there was a nasty vein running just below the surface that supplied her kind words with just enough falseness that gus couldn't help but sniff it out. "he wasn't without love, i was there." as troublesome as he found rufus to be, they were family and despite his aggravating ways, there wasn't a single thing on the planet which he wasn't willing to do if it meant keeping him safe. from his perspective, bronte wasn't safe, even if she was promising him some kind of stability. "your partner? like- like what? you're dating him?" the idea sounded ridiculous on multiple levels, in part because he had given up on the idea of ever having a relationship long ago, so to see rufus in one seemingly out of nowhere felt like a punch to the gut. there was some jealousy there, hidden beneath the protective front he put on. he'd rather die than admit it, but as infuriating as he found other people to be, part of him had always yearned to be able to connect to them. he knew rufus like the back of his hand, for so long he had been the only person he could truly relate to and it scared him to think that he was being left behind, even if bronte was suggesting that he could relinquish their struggles and come join them. "so... what? you pick up sad little strays on the street and bring them home? you got some kinda thing for that?" she wasn't doing it out of the kindness of her heart, that he knew for certain. rufus was easily liked but he was also deeply troubled below the surface, quick to anger when provoked and possessive with what he deemed as his, he wasn't the sort of person whom someone could be involved with casually without him growing intensely involved. at least gus was honest with his issues, he wore them on his sleeve and if that kept people away then it was probably for the better. "we're doing fine, okay? i sure as shit don't need your charity and he doesn't either. we're good, the best thing for him is to be with his family."