#I love them I was waiting for this moment I hope this is enough

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[solxamber]

Hellooo :]

Pomefiore, 6, hurt/comfort

I'm so excited to see what you come up with! <3

I have once again succumbed to vil, I'm trying to choose others for pomefiore but... vil...

Last Thread || Vil Schoenheit

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "Say that again" ; Genre: Hurt/Comfort

The argument had started small—a passing comment about your schedule, a critique of his relentless perfectionism—but it spiraled out of control before either of you could stop it.

"You're impossible sometimes, Vil," you said, your voice rising. "It's like you don't even listen to me!"

"And you think I’m being unreasonable?" Vil snapped back, his tone colder than you’d ever heard it. "Forgive me for expecting excellence!"

It stung, hearing that edge in his voice, like a blade cutting through the bond you cherished.

"Vil, this isn't about excellence. It's about you shutting me out and treating me like—like I don’t matter!"

He flinched, the sharpness in your words hitting their mark. You didn’t want to hurt him, but it felt like the only way to get through.

“I would never—” He paused, his hands trembling slightly before he crossed his arms to steady them. “Why can’t you understand that this is who I am? This is what I need to do!”

“Maybe I do understand, but I can’t keep standing here feeling like I’m walking on eggshells around you,” you retorted, frustration bubbling over. “I love you, Vil, but I cannot stand to be here right now!”

You grabbed your coat from the back of the chair and turned toward the door, your heart aching even as your hand reached for the handle.

“Wait.” His voice cracked, and the sound rooted you in place.

When you turned back, you saw something in his eyes you rarely saw: fear. True, unguarded fear. His lips parted as he spoke, barely above a whisper.

“Say that again.”

You froze, realizing what he meant. His composure, the armor he wore so well, was gone. His violet eyes were wide, vulnerable.

You sighed, your heart softening as you stepped closer. Slowly, you cupped his cheeks, the tension in his jaw melting under your touch.

“I love you, Vil,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “But I need some air. I’ll come back. I promise.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your palms like he was holding onto the words, clutching them tightly in his heart. He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but you could feel the relief in it.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead before stepping back and leaving, the air outside sharp and cold against your skin.

When you returned an hour later, Vil was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked like he hadn’t moved since you left.

The moment you stepped inside, he stood, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of anxiety and hope.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice firm but tinged with vulnerability. “For shutting you out, for making you feel like you didn’t matter. You do. More than anything.”

You stepped closer, setting your coat aside. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I needed you to hear me.”

“I hear you,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I can’t lose you. You’re the only person who sees me—truly sees me—and I…” His breath hitched as he struggled to find the words. “I need you.”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the gap between you, wrapping your arms around him. He clung to you, his grip almost desperate as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“I’m here,” you murmured, running a soothing hand down his back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just held each other, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words and mutual understanding.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your shoulders. “I’ll do better. For you.”

“And I’ll be here,” you said with a small smile. “For you.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re my last thread holding me together, darling.”

“Then I’ll never let go,” you promised, sealing it with a kiss.

we like communication and peaceful argument resolution in this house

Masterlist

[paige05bby]

Favorite Crime

summary: A UConn cheerleader reflects on a forbidden, passionate romance with basketball star Paige Bueckers.

a/n: based on Favorite Crime by Olivia Rodrigo

warning(s): just tension & heartbreak (sad ending)

pairing: paige bueckers x cheerleader!reader

“All the things I did, just so I could call you mine.”

It started like every cliché I’d ever scoffed at—a stolen glance, a lingering touch, a shared secret. Paige Bueckers was everything I was supposed to avoid. She was magnetic, untouchable, the golden girl of UConn basketball. Everyone wanted her, and she knew it.

I wasn’t supposed to be different. Just another cheerleader she charmed with her cocky smirk and honeyed words. But when she kissed me for the first time under the bleachers after a game, her hands gripping my waist like she’d fall apart if she let go, I let myself believe I was special.

She told me I wasn’t like the others, and I wanted it to be true. So I fell. Hard and fast, like a freefall with no parachute. I gave her everything—my time, my trust, my heart—even as the cracks began to form.

“The things you did, well, I hope I was your favorite crime.”

At first, it felt like a dream. She’d wait for me after practice, her hair still damp from the showers, her grin lighting up the hallway as she pulled me into a corner to kiss me senseless. She’d sneak into my dorm room after midnight, her laughter low and breathless as she whispered promises I was too desperate to question.

But then the lies started. The late nights she couldn’t explain. The unanswered texts. The faint smell of perfume on her hoodie that wasn’t mine.

“Do you still talk to them?” I asked one night, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her expression was unreadable as she tilted her head, feigning confusion. “Talk to who?”

“You know who.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re overthinking again. Why does it matter?”

“Because it feels like I’m not enough for you,” I said, my voice cracking.

She stepped closer, her hands sliding around my waist. “You’re all I need,” she murmured, her lips brushing against mine. And for a moment, I believed her. I always believed her.

“You used me as an alibi, I crossed my heart as you crossed the line.”

But the doubts didn’t go away. I started noticing the way other girls looked at her, the way they lingered after games, desperate for her attention. Sometimes, I’d catch her flirting with them, her smile just a little too familiar, her laugh a little too easy.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I told her after one particularly painful moment, my voice shaking as we stood in the empty gym.

She shrugged, her eyes gleaming with something I couldn’t name. “They don’t mean anything,” she said. “You’re the one I go home to.”

But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.

“It’s bittersweet to think about the damage that we’d do.”

The fight happened after the biggest game of the season. She’d hit the game-winning shot, the crowd roaring as her teammates lifted her into the air. I should’ve been proud. I should’ve been happy.

But when I saw her outside the locker room, leaning casually against the wall with that infuriating smirk, all I felt was anger.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sharp.

“Thought you’d want to congratulate me ma,” she said, her tone light but her eyes serious.

“Congrats,” I said flatly, brushing past her. “You’re amazing. We all know it.”

Her hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t do this,” she said, her voice low.

“Do what?” I snapped, spinning to face her. “Point out that you only care about me when it’s convenient? That you disappear whenever it gets hard?”

Her jaw tightened, her eyes flashing. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” My voice rose, the words spilling out in a torrent of frustration and pain. “You act like I’m the only one, but you’re everywhere, Paige. You flirt with everyone, and I’m supposed to just… be okay with it?”

“You think I don’t love you?” she shot back, her voice trembling with anger.

“I think you don’t know how to,” I said, my voice breaking. “You love the attention, the game, the chase. But me? I’m just another name on your list.”

She stared at me, her breathing heavy, her expression unreadable. “You don’t get it,” she finally said, her voice cold. “I’ve given you everything I can.”

“Well, it’s not enough,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face.

“I hope I was your favorite crime.”

Years Later

The Dallas skyline glittered in the night as I adjusted my uniform, the sparkle of my cheerleading outfit catching in the stadium lights. It was just another Cowboys game, just another night in a life that was supposed to make me forget her.

And then I saw her.

She was standing on the sideline, WNBA warmups hanging off her tall frame, laughing with someone from the press. Paige. The same Paige. Older, sharper, somehow even more magnetic than she’d been back then.

My breath caught, my heart lurching in my chest as her eyes flicked over to me.

For a second, I thought she might not recognize me. But then her lips curved into that familiar smirk, and suddenly, I was 19 again, standing under the bleachers with her hands on my waist.

“Hey, stranger,” she said when she finally approached, her voice low and teasing.

“Paige,” I managed, forcing a smile. “Didn’t know you were in Dallas.”

She gestured to her jersey, the Dallas Wings logo bold on her chest. “Been here for a year. Guess we’re both in the same city again, huh?”

I laughed nervously, the weight of our history pressing down on me. “Yeah. Small world.”

Her eyes softened, the smirk fading. “You look good,” she said quietly. “Really good.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “So do you.”

We stood there, the noise of the stadium fading into the background as the past crashed between us. I wanted to say so much—to ask if she ever thought about me, if she missed me, if she’d ever truly loved me.

But all I managed was, “It’s good to see you, Paige.”

She nodded, her smile wistful. “You too.”

And just like that, she was gone, walking back to her team, leaving me with the ache of everything we’d been and everything we never would be.

Paige Bueckers was still my greatest heartbreak, my deepest regret, and my favorite crime.

[ikkyfics]

Count Vronsky and reader's first time? Maybe night after the wedding? Please feel free to not write this if it makes you uncomfortable 🫶🏻

First Night

Alexei Vronsky x f!reader

Summary: Even now, with a ring on your finger, you still had difficulty assimilating what had happened. As if it had all been nothing more than a feverish delirium. You were a married woman now, and as such, you should fulfill your duties.

Warnings: smut, virgin!reader, piv, mdni, porn w little plot

A/N: Hi, darling - to be honest, I was excited to write this, so I really hope you enjoy it <333

Masterlist

Even now, with a ring on your finger, you still had difficulty assimilating what had happened. As if it had all been nothing more than a feverish delirium. You were a married woman now, and as such, you should fulfill your duties.

After you arrived at the house that would now be your home, Alexei had allowed you to have a moment alone. To prepare yourself. A maid had prepared a bath of hot water for you, where you remained submerged for as long as you could, as if that would be enough to rid you of your fears. Your hair was brushed and your skin perfumed, your body wrapped in a thin nightgown. You had never worn anything like this, never had you revealed so much of your skin.

The night before, your mother had spoken to you. She had held your hand and told you that there was no reason to fear, that the Count would treat you well.

“I imagine he has already kissed you,” she said, a small smile curving her lips as you nodded, your eyes fixed on the embroidery on your bed.

Alexei had kissed you before, more than once. And you had committed each one to memory. The way his mouth had moved against yours, filled with a hunger you didn’t understand. Then, when you were flushed and your lips were numb, he would pull away, his fingers gently framing your cheek, looking satisfied.

“And you liked it, didn’t you? Then I’m sure the other caresses won’t bother you. He will certainly be gentle and attentive.”

But now you regretted not having asked more questions. Anxiety knotted in your stomach. What should you expect from this night?

The knock on the door was soft, but it made your heart leap in your chest. You sat up straight in the chair in front of the mirror, your trembling fingers smoothing the fabric of the thin nightgown that felt too heavy for your skin. For a moment, the thought of asking him to wait crossed your mind, but the truth was that waiting would only prolong the torment of your own anxiety.

“Come in,” you managed to say, though your voice was barely audible.

Alexei entered the room, his heart pounding at the sight of his bride. He drank in the vision of your, clad in the sheer nightgown that clung to your curves and accentuated your skin. Your hair fell in glossy waves over your shoulders, and your eyes, though anxious, sparkled with a hint of anticipation. He felt a surge of love and desire, but also a profound tenderness and protectiveness.

He approached your slowly, his steps measured and respectful. Stopping a few feet away, he gazed at your, his blue eyes filled with adoration and a touch of nervousness. He cleared his throat softly before speaking in a low, gentle voice.

“My dear wife, you look... sublime. More beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I want to make this night perfect for you, my love. A night you'll never forget.”

Alexei extended his hand towards your, his fingers outstretched in invitation. His heart raced as he awaited your response, hoping you would trust in him, in them, in the love they shared. “Please, allow me to join you. Let us begin our new life together, as husband and wife, in every way possible.”

His words, the intensity in his voice, made your face flush. With trembling fingers, You reached out to touch his hand, feeling the heat emanating from his skin.

“Alexei,” You began, looking up into his beautiful eyes. “I want you to join me, but…”

You hesitated, lowering your eyes. Alexei had kissed you before, but this time was different. You didn’t even know what was about to happen. The mysteries of the wedding night had never been revealed to you. What if I ruined everything? Nerves knotted your stomach.

Alexei sensed your hesitation and nervousness, seeing the uncertainty in your downcast eyes and the way your fingers trembled against his palm. His heart ached with the desire to comfort and reassure your, to chase away your fears. He gently squeezed your hand, his thumb caressing your knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

In a soft, gentle voice, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke. “Shhh, my darling,” he murmured. “There's no need to be nervous or afraid. I know this is new and overwhelming for you, but I promise, I will be gentle. I want our first time to be a beautiful, loving experience for you.”

Alexei brought his other hand up to tenderly cup your cheek, tilting your face towards him until their eyes met once more. “We'll discover this together, step by step,” he assured your softly. “I'm here to guide and cherish you. Trust in me, and trust in the love we share.”

His blue eyes shone with sincerity and devotion as he gazed at your, awaiting your response. Alexei's heart raced with anticipation, but more than that, it raced with a desperate need to love and protect his new bride, to make this night as wonderful and unforgettable as you deserved.

His words were reassuring, though there was still a hint of nervousness lurking in the background. “I trust you, Alexei.” He was your husband, the man your trusted with your life.

You moved closer to him, feeling his warmth envelop your body, all too aware of the thin gown covering your body. Your face felt hot, but the words found their way past your lips. “Will you teach me?”

Alexei's heart swelled with love and tenderness at your soft, trusting words. He pulled your closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your gently against his chest. He could feel the heat radiating from your body through the thin fabric of your nightgown, and it ignited a gentle warmth within him.

He gazed into your eyes, his own blue orbs filled with adoration and a deep, abiding love. “Of course, my darling,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “It would be my greatest honor and pleasure to teach you, to guide you, to love you in every way possible.”

Alexei leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered. “Tonight, I want to explore every inch of your beautiful body, to map out the curves and contours that belong only to you. I want to learn what brings you pleasure, what makes your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.”

He pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of your lower lip. “We'll take our time, my love. I'll make sure that every touch, every kiss, every moment is filled with love and devotion.”

Alexei's eyes searched yours, a silent question in their depths. “Will you let me love you? Will you trust me to be your guide?”

“Y-yes,” you said breathlessly, feeling your knees weaken at the intensity of his words. It was almost too much to bear. “Please,” you began again, your fingers wrapping around his shirt, as if pulling him closer. You needed his warmth. “I want you to teach me,” you pressed your face against his hand, closing your eyes as shame swallowed you. “I want to be yours, Alexei.”

He pulled your flush against him, his strong arms enveloping your trembling form, holding your close as if you were the most precious treasure in the world. He could feel the desperate way your fingers clutched at his shirt, and it only served to fuel his own longing to cherish and possess your completely.

With a soft, loving groan, Alexei captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His mouth moved over yours with a gentle intensity, pouring all of his love and desire into the embrace. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, asking for your permission to explore the warmth within.

As he kissed your, his hands began to roam over your body, mapping out the tantalizing curves that the thin nightgown did little to conceal. He caressed the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips, the soft, supple skin of your thighs. His touch was reverent and worshipful, a silent testament to his devotion and desire.

Breaking the kiss, Alexei trailed his lips down the column of your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin. He could feel your pulse fluttering beneath his touch, and it spurred him on, urging him to claim your, to make your his in every way possible.

You felt intoxicated by his kisses, and a strange heat was building in your belly. No, below your belly. You had never felt anything like it.

In a low, husky voice, he murmured against your skin, “You are mine. Now and forever. And I am yours, my love, my heart, my soul.”

Alexei's hands slid down to the hem of your nightgown, his fingers toying with the delicate fabric. He awaited your silent permission, your eager consent to take this next step into their new life together as husband and wife.

You looked down, feeling your heart skip a beat when you saw him with his fingers in the fragile laces of your nightgown. But you weren’t going to back down. You nodded slightly, giving him permission to undo each lace. “I want you to show me.”

When the nightgown was loose on your shoulder, it wasn’t long before the fabric slid down your body, pooling around your feet. You fought the urge to curl up, to hide. There was nothing between your body and Alexei’s gaze.

Alexei’s breath caught in his throat as the nightgown slid away, revealing the breathtaking beauty of your naked form. His eyes drank in every inch of your skin, from the elegant curve of your neck to the soft swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist and the gentle flare of your hips. You were a vision of perfection, a goddess made flesh, and he felt unworthy of your divine presence.

Slowly, reverently, Alexei's hands skimmed over your newly exposed skin, his touch gentle and worshipful. He cupped the soft weight of your breasts, marveling at their delicate shape and the way they fit perfectly in his palms. His thumbs brushed over the sensitive peaks, feeling them tighten and harden beneath his touch.

“You are so beautiful, my love,” Alexei said in a reverent tone, raising his eyes to meet yours. He took a step toward you, pushing you back until the backs of your knees met the vanity. He lifted your body, settling you there, quickly settling himself between your legs. His fingers traced invisible lines on the sensitive skin of your thighs.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips as he lifted you up. The cool mirror against your back contrasted with the heat of his body. Your hands gripped his chest, feeling like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. And he was between your legs, his hips pressed against yours, sending shivers down your spine.

You pressed your face against his neck, whimpering at the discomfort between your legs. “Kiss me, please, I need your kisses,” you begged, the words vibrating against his skin.

He could feel the evidence of your arousal pressing urgently against him, and it only fueled his own rapidly growing desire. With a low, possessive growl, Alexei captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of his passion and hunger into the embrace. His tongue delved deep, stroking and caressing every inch of your mouth, tangling with yours in a sensual dance.

One hand slid up your back, tangling in your silky hair, while the other gripped your hip, pulling your flush against him. He ground his hips against yours, letting your feel the hard, thick length of his arousal through the fabric of his trousers.

Alexei trailed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat, pausing to nip and suck at the sensitive skin. He could feel your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his lips.

He licked and kissed his way down to your collarbone, leaving wet kisses down to your chest, feeling your tremble beneath his touch. His mouth enveloped your breast, his tongue teasing the hard peak, hearing your moan in response.

His hand cupped your other breast, massaging it gently. He bit the tip, pulling it between his teeth until he heard your whimper. Only then did he allow himself to continue, leaving more kisses down your belly.

Alexei settled back on the vanity stool, lifting his face to admire how needy you looked, a complete mess. His fingers reached the inside of your thigh, drawing lazy half circles before moving up a little higher. He groaned at the feel of how wet your pussy was. "Is this where you need me, my love?"

You felt your entire body flush at the feel of his touch, the way his eyes seemed to devour you.

"Y-yes," you replied weakly, spreading your legs further apart without even realizing it. "I need... I need-" You couldn't continue, you couldn't put into words what you wanted. Unable to contain yourself, your hips rolled, seeking more of his touch, any sensation that would fill the void between your legs.

He watched your hips undulate, seeking his touch, craving his possession. The needy, desperate sound of your voice only served to inflame his own desire.

With a low, guttural groan, Alexei's fingers found your slick, heated center. He stroked along your folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal coating his digits. He circled your sensitive clit, teasing and tormenting your until your hips bucked and writhed against his touch.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Alexei leaned in, replacing his fingers with his mouth. He lapped at your essence, his tongue delving deep to taste your, to savor the sweet ambrosia of your desire. He suckled and flicked and teased, driving your closer to the edge of ecstasy with every stroke of his tongue.

He could feel the heat of your core, the way your body trembled and quivered with need. He knew you was close, and he was determined to push your over the precipice, to help your find the release you so desperately craved.

He looked up at your, his eyes intense as he spoke against your slick flesh. “Let go, my love. Give yourself to me, to this moment. I want to feel you come undone. Trust in me. Let me love you, all of you.”

With that, Alexei redoubled his efforts, his tongue and lips and fingers working in tandem to drive your to the heights of ecstasy. He could feel your body tensing, your muscles tightening, and he knew you was on the cusp of something extraordinary.

Your fingers wrapped around the soft curls of his hair, moaning as you felt yourself coming undone. "Alexei," you repeated his name over and over.

Your eyes fixed on his face between your legs, on the way his hands held you open. Exposed.

"Alexei, I'm... I'm going to... God."

Your eyes closed as you felt that strand snap. Eliciting a louder moan from your, leaving your euphoric, in ecstasy. Completely lost in pleasure.

Alexei felt you body stiffen and then shudder as your climax washed over your. The sound of his name falling from your lips like a prayer, like a plea, only heightened his own desire.

He could feel the heat of your essence flooding his mouth as he worked your through your orgasm, his tongue gentling as he helped your ride out the waves of pleasure.

As your body went limp, Alexei gentled his touch, placing soft kisses on your sensitive flesh as he slowly withdrew. He looked up at your through hooded eyes, taking in the sight of your lost in the throes of ecstasy, your face flushed and your hair disheveled, a look of pure bliss on your face.

With a low, possessive growl, Alexei surged up her body, capturing your lips in a kiss. He could taste himself on your, the musky essence of your arousal mingling with the sweetness of your own mouth. It only fueled his desire, his need to be inside your.

He wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting your up onto the vanity so they could walk across the room together. Gently, he laid your down on the bed, pausing to remove his own clothes. It bobbed against his belly, hard and thick and ready.

He was quick to climb on top of your body, growling as he felt his cock poke at your pussy. He needed to control himself, you was still a virgin. Alexei needed to be careful.

You moaned, too sensitive to any touch from him. Your arms wrapped around him, enjoying the feeling of his skin against yours. The way he wrapped you around him. It was like you were on cloud nine.

Hesitantly, you lowered your hand, your fingers wrapping around him, feeling the weight and the way he pulsed. And the way Alexei moaned encouraged you to continue your exploratory touch. In shock, you realized that you wanted him inside you.

Alexei shuddered as you small hand wrapped around his throbbing length, your gentle touch sending jolts of pleasure through his body. He groaned into their kiss, his hips flexing instinctively as he thrust into your hand, seeking more of that exquisite sensation. The feel of your slender fingers exploring his thick, pulsing cock only served to inflame his desire.   

Breaking the kiss, Alexei looked down at your with lust-darkened eyes, his voice a low, husky rasp. “You feel what you do to me, my love?” he murmured, his hips rolling slowly, his hard length sliding through your soft palm. “You feel how much I need you, how desperate I am to be inside you?”

Alexei's hand covered yours, guiding it to stroke him with more purpose, more pressure. He groaned at the feel of your slender fingers tightening around him, at the way your thumb brushed over the sensitive head of his cock. His other hand slid up your side, cupping the soft weight of your breast, his fingers plucking at the hardened peak.

Alexei's eyes searched yours, a silent question in their depths. “Are you ready for me, my love?” he asked softly, his voice rough with desire. “Ready to feel me inside you, filling you, loving you?” He nudged his cock head against your slick entrance, feeling your heat, your softness.

You reacted to his words, feeling your body shiver in anticipation.

Your eyes didn’t leave his, whimpering at the feel of his cock pressed against your slick slit.

“Yes," you sighed, "yes, please, Alexei,” you begged, the words slipping from your lips.

With a low, possessive growl, he captured your lips in a kiss, pouring all of his love and desire into the embrace. At the same time, he slowly, gently pushed forward, feeling your slick, tight heat enveloping the sensitive head of his cock.

He broke the kiss to gaze into your eyes, his own blue orbs blazing with passion and tenderness. “You feel so good, my love,” he rasped, his voice rough with emotion. “So tight, so perfect.” He pushed a little deeper, gritting his teeth at the exquisite sensation of your body yielding to his.

Alexei's hand slid down to your hip, gripping it gently as he slowly, carefully began to ease himself into your. He could feel every inch of your silky walls clenching around him, drawing him in deeper, welcoming him home. It took every ounce of his control not to surge forward, to bury himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

He captured your lips again, swallowing your soft gasps and whimpers as he slowly, steadily pushed forward until he felt a barrier. Alexei paused, his heart hammering in his chest. “This might hurt for a moment, my darling,” he murmured against your lips. “But I promise, it will only be for a moment. And then, my love, it will only bring us closer, bind us tighter.”

With a final, gentle push, Alexei broke through your maidenhead. He stilled, letting your adjust to the new sensation, the new feeling of fullness. He peppered your face with soft kisses, murmuring words of love and devotion against your skin.

Tears welled up in your eyes. He was too big, it was like you were being ripped apart.

Alexei's heart ached at the sight of you tears, the way your hips instinctively tried to pull away from the unfamiliar, almost painful sensation of his thick length stretching your untouched walls.

He gazed into your eyes, his own filled with love and understanding. “Shhh, my darling,” he murmured softly, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb. “I know it hurts, and I'm so sorry. But it will pass, I promise you.” He kissed your softly, tenderly, his lips moving over yours with a gentleness that belied the passion burning within him.

You gritted your teeth, allowing him to soothe you with his gentle kisses and sweet words, your fingers curling under his biceps, letting out some of what you were feeling. It still hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. “Can you…” You began, your voice small, searching his gaze.

At your hesitant question, Alexei's heart swelled with love and devotion. “Yes, my love,” he said softly, his voice low and intimate. “I can go slow, as slow as you need me to. We'll take this at your pace, and I'll make sure you feel nothing but pleasure.” He nuzzled your neck, pressing soft kisses to your racing pulse. “Just tell me what you need. I'm here for you, always.”

Alexei's hands slid down to cup your rear, gently kneading the soft flesh as he slowly, carefully began to move within your, his strokes shallow and deliberate.You felt your heart warm at his words, the way he prioritized you. It helped make the pain more bearable. And you trusted him, God, you really did trust him.

A moan of pain escaped your lips when he moved. And then you moaned for an entirely different reason.

You felt something tighten inside you, making you want more. Need more."A-Alexei, I-" You began, your voice cracking as he hit a part of you that made you shiver. You fell back into the pillow, whimpering, "M-more, I need... oh," you moaned again as he hit that same spot.

The way you arched into him, your back bowing off the bed, your nails digging into his biceps, spurred him on. He could feel the tight, velvet heat of your sheath clenching around him, drawing him in deeper with every thrust.

He groaned softly as you pleaded for more, her voice breaking on a moan that sent shivers down his spine. Determined to give your the pleasure you craved, Alexei began to thrust with more purpose, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that had him hitting that sensitive spot inside your with each drive forward.

Alexei leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy as he loved your with his body. His hand slid between their sweat-slicked bodies to find your pearl, his fingers circling and stroking the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts.

He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his pistoning length. Knowing you was close, Alexei doubled his efforts, his voice a low, urgent rasp against your lips. “That's it, my love,” he encouraged your, his breath hot and ragged. “Let go. I want to feel you come undone around me, want to hear you scream my name as you find your pleasure.”

He could tell you was on the very precipice of a shattering climax, and he was determined to help your fly over that edge into pure, unadulterated bliss.

His fingers circled your sensitive pearl with more urgency, stroking and rubbing the swollen nub as he drove into your, his hips setting a relentless pace. Alexei could feel his own release swiftly approaching, but he was focused solely on you, on bringing your to a peak of ecstasy before he allowed himself to let go.

He captured your lips in a fierce, demanding kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste your, to feel yourr respond to his passion. His other hand slid up to cup your breast, his fingers plucking and rolling the hardened peak, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.Alexei broke the kiss to blazing into your eyes, his voice a low, commanding growl.

“Come for me,” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. “Give yourself to me, now and forever.”

With a final, powerful thrust, Alexei drove deep into your welcoming heat, his length pulsing and throbbing as he felt your walls clamp down around him like a vice. He threw his head back, a guttural groan of pure male satisfaction tearing from his throat as he found his own release, his seed spurting forth to mark your, to claim your as his own.

Your walls clamping down around him like a velvet vise as you found your own shattering climax. The sound of his name falling from your lips in a scream of pure ecstasy was the most erotic, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It spurred him on, urging him to drive into your with a newfound urgency, to prolong your pleasure and push your to new heights.

He could feel your body going limp beneath him, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Alexei gentled his touch, his hands sliding over your sweat-slicked skin with a tenderness that belied the passion still burning within him. He pressed soft kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders, murmuring words of love and devotion against your skin.

Slowly, carefully, Alexei rolled to the side, taking you with him so you was draped over his chest. He tucked your head under his chin, his arms wrapping around you in a protective, possessive hold. His fingers stroked over your hair, through your sweat-dampened curls, as he let your catch your breath.

Alexei's heart swelled with a love so profound, so all-encompassing, that it took his breath away. Making love to you had been a revelation, a confirmation of the deep, abiding bond between them. He knew, without a doubt, that he would spend the rest of his life loving your, cherishing your, and protecting your.He pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his voice a low, reverent murmur.

“That was incredible, my love,” he said softly, his heart full to bursting with emotion. “You were incredible. I love you so much. Today, tomorrow, and for all the days to come. You are mine, and I am yours, now and forever.” Alexei's arms tightened around your, holding your close as he savored the feel of your soft, warm body against his. In that moment, he knew he was the happiest, the most contented man alive.

[demonnotebook]

"You mind if I steal?"

"Oh, when have you ever asked?"

I'm not sure if Stolas was referring to all the times Blitzø stole things, including the stuff from the palace, but I can't help thinking about this short interaction and what it could be connected to.

On the bright side, Stolas might already be aware of all the things Blitzø has been hiding from him, and yet his love for Blitzø has not diminished one bit.

Stolas knows that Blitzø keeps many secrets from his past, but that he is not ready to share them, and Stolas really respects that, even if it can be painful to feel that the other person does not feel safe enough with you to be vulnerable.

However, in the same conversation, Blitzø does show vulnerability and shares something that he doesn't even seem to have shared with anyone else in I.M.P.: Blitzø talks about his sister and in doing so seeks to make Stolas feel less alone. He seeks to connect with him.

Despite the terrible emotional state Stolas is in, and the fact that he does not yet have the full context to know the courage it took for Blitzø to share that valuable piece of his past, I think Stolas understands that Blitzø is really trying to break down those walls that separated them emotionally.

Can't wait to see what the next season has to offer. I hope it has more intimate moments like this one, that allows them to understand each other's past and therefore also their present actions.

Delulu me also wants them to talk about their first interaction as kids and flashbacks from Blitzø's perspective if possible hehe.

[evergumi]

M. FUSHIGURO ⋆ when words fail.

pairing ⋆ bf!megumi fushiguro x reader

summary ⋆ reader is feeling overwhelmed and bf gumi comes to them to comfort like the amazing bf he is <33

warnings ⋆ fluff, sliiiiight angst if you squint (it wouldnt even be called angst), sad reader, megumi loves them but shows it in his own special way !

wc ⋆ 0.7k words

a/n ⋆ awww the cuties ! i love gumi sm omg my adorable boyfieee, anyways enjoy ! i lowkey dont like this buttt :((

you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had drained you—maybe it was the mission gone wrong, the constant tension, or just the weight of everything pressing down on you. all you knew was that your chest felt heavy, and you couldn’t shake the dull ache that settled deep in your bones.

you walked into the dorm, hoping for a few moments of peace, but as soon as you closed the door behind you, the silence felt suffocating. the soft thud of your shoes hitting the floor echoed too loudly, and your gaze lingered on the messy space around you. it had been a long time since you'd felt like this—numb, hollow, as though no matter how many times you exhaled, you couldn’t breathe deeply enough. unlocking the door to your room, your eyes heavy with exhaustion, you shuffled over to your bed. god, this feeling. it was so heavy it hurt. it weighed on your shoulders like the sky itself had decided to settle there. letting out a deep, shaky sigh, you flopped back onto your bed…

bad idea.

now, as you lay there, it felt as though you were lying directly on the weight you were carrying—sharp, heavy, painful… overwhelming. you just wanted to sleep and forget about it all. squeezing your eyes shut, you brought a hand to your face and dragged it down your features, the stress evident in every line. anything to get rid of the gnawing ache.

your phone buzzed.

with a soft groan, you lazily draped your hand over your eyes and blindly reached for your phone. when your fingers brushed against the white case adorned with a small black cat (the one your beloved boyfriend had given you), you brought it up to your face, squinting at the sudden bright light. and then, a soft, gentle smile spread across your lips. it was megumi… you had been waiting for him. unlocking your phone, you tapped on his name.

megumi: how was the mission?

you sighed, running a hand down your face again, and typed a quick response.

y/n: it was terrible, gumi. miss you so much.

before you could set your phone down, it buzzed again, the shrill ping echoing through your dorm room and making your growing headache worse.

megumi: be there in a sec.

your eyes widened.

y/n: wait--

before you could send another message, trying to stop him from coming all the way over, the door to your dorm creaked open.

“y/n?” megumi’s low, familiar voice called from the doorway, tinged with softness only for you. “where are you?”

the soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, highlighting megumi’s features as he stepped inside. his gaze softened when it landed on you, and his lips parted in concern. he was holding a plastic bag by the handles, the straps dangling from his calloused fingers as he stepped closer.

“you’re not alright,” he said, his voice gentle but sure. you liked that about him. most people would’ve asked “are you alright?”—a question that would’ve only frustrated you more. but megumi didn’t need to ask. he could see through the walls you built around yourself.

he sat at the edge of your bed, his soft, spiky hair catching the moonlight, making him look almost ethereal. without looking at you, he pulled a stuffed bunny from the plastic bag and handed it to you.

“you left this at my dorm,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. you knew he hated the idea of your stuffed animals receiving more of your attention than he did, but he also knew how much they meant to you. that’s why he’d brought it back.

you took the bunny from him, hugging it to your chest, almost like you were holding megumi himself (not that he needed to know that). “thank you, ‘gumi,” you whispered, looking up at him.

he avoided your gaze, a blush creeping up his neck. he knew what you were asking through your gaze, even if you hadn’t said it.

“fine,” he muttered. “but only because you’ve had a long day.” with a small, pained smile, you shuffled over on the bed to make room for him. megumi kicked off his hello kitty socks (something only you knew about) and climbed into your soft, pale pink sheets.

without missing a beat, he slid his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. you rested your head on his toned chest, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away.

he could do this for you. he could make everything feel a little lighter. “thank you,” you whispered sleepily, your eyes fluttering shut. “thank you for coming to me.”

megumi hummed in response, pulling you closer. you nestled your head into his favourite spot—the crook of his neck, the place that always felt warm even when it had no business being so. his scent was there, in that one spot; always stronger than other parts of his body, forever comforting.

after a while, he spoke up, his deep voice reverbrating through your relaxed body.

“you’re welcome,” he murmured softly into your hair, his fingers tracing circles on your shoulder when he thought you’d fallen asleep. “sleep, y/n. i’ll be here when you wake up. i always will.” he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, a gesture so small but full of so much meaning.

you just hoped he didn’t feel the smile tugging at your lips as you drifted off, content in his arms.

a/n ⋆ lowkey giggling omg ?? i hc him to wear the most adorable socks ever and only y/n knows... like he def accidentally forgot to wear 'cool' socks one day when u guys were hanging out after you first started dating ahhh !

thank you for reading, ily ! lmk if you wanna be tagged and remember, reqs are always open loves !

© evergumi

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 123 (Struggling Through 💕Love Day💕)

Conrad left Rafa at the abandoned shipwreck and made his way to the docks before he called Heather. "Thank the Watcher, you're okay!" she cried when the picture connected. "The precinct said the wifi in Sulani's terrible and to wait until morning, but I couldn't sleep last night."

"I slept a lot longer than I planned," he lamented.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

He smiled. "I ran into some trouble but I'm fine. I'll tell you all about it when I get home but everything's okay. Well, not everything...I found George and his wife in their villa."

"Why did they go silent?"

"The exact reason you'd think. (Especially if you're @changingplumbob and @matchalovertrait!) Now I've got another murder to solve."

Heather sighed. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's fine. I'm just at the docks waiting for the jetty to take me to the airport. I sent some evidence home with the bodies and I'll have to meet them on the other side."

"What happens to everything in town that George had his hands in now that he's gone?"

Conrad shrugged. "I guess we're about to find out."

"I'm glad you're okay. You're really all I want for Love Day, you know. Oh! Ash made tissue paper flowers for someone at school. He says he's not sure who he'll give them to, but I think he might have made them for Scotti Holiday. Maybe his teacher."

Conrad laughed. "Is it terrible to say I hope he gives them to his teacher?"

"Mmhmm. I like Summer and Travis, but she's..." Scotti Holiday was a nine-year-old mean girl, but Heather didn't want to speak ill of a kid and changed the subject. "The kids both made cards for you."

"I'm trying to get home before Love Day's over. I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

Heather hung up and found Lavender in the living room playing with Gord and a purple toy. "Drago rawrrrrr!" she cried, letting the winged creature dance on the end of Gord's nose.

The beautiful Bernese barked and played along, happily wagging his tail. Heather smiled. "Are you ready to head to daycare, Lavender?"

"I like home!" she cried, but she never protested too long and rarely threw a tantrum.

Heather helped her toddler into her outerwear as she locked up the house, and three-year-old Lavender glanced at her dog. "Watch house, Go-dee! See lay-doe."

The romantic spirit of Love Day filled the air at the clinic, as unflirty Heather witnessed her vet techs, Kaori and Rico, struggle to hide their new affections. Even while he mopped up after sick pets.

The radio was playing nothing but love songs, and Heather retreated to the bathroom for a moment of peace. Conrad was fine, she reminded herself. He might even make it home before the end of Love Day. But now that George Brindleton was dead, the town he held together might be about to split apart at the seams. She was worried for it.

The restroom's garish wallpaper didn't calm her nerves, and as she grabbed a glass of water she dreamed of the swatches her architect in Evergreen Harbour had sent over through the winter. Spring was coming soon, and then she'd have a clinic remodel to worry about, too.

While Heather stressed her way through Love Day, Ash left school on Deadgrass Isle. He was full of chocolates handed out by his teacher and feeling energetic, jumping down the steps two at a time. He'd held on to his tissue paper flowers all day, unsure who to give them to until the end of school bell.

Heading toward the docks, he noticed an old man sitting alone on a bench overlooking the wild waves of the sea. Ash had seen him before, but he wasn't supposed to talk to strangers.

They made eye contact, and the old man looked surprised when Ash threw up his hand in a wave. He seemed like a nice enough man to talk to, and Deadgrass Isle was crowded with people at this time of day.

His friends, Arron Kalani and Scotti Holiday, headed toward the ferry to the mainland. "Ash, are you coming?"

"I'll take the next boat, I'm okay!" he said. "That old man looks lonely over there."

Scotti looked behind him in confusion. "What old man? You're kinda strange sometimes, Ash Landgraab."

Undeterred, Ash walked the path to say hello, dragging a heavy backpack full of books for extra credit behind him. Maybe the old man was the right person to give his paper flowers.

"Hello, sir. Are you alone out here?" Ash set down his bag, which immediately started to pick up big crystals of snow from the isle's notoriously heavy snowfall.

Ben looked at the child, startled and uncomfortable. He'd never been good around children, and his years as a ghost on an island populated with a school hadn't changed anything.

"Y-you can see me?" ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF: Main image created with Canva's free Vintage Blank Notes Instagram Story template. Something a little bit different to mark the holiday but also their distance apart. It also pays tribute to Ash's paper flowers which I wasn't sure how to recreate in game (they're from a pop up which dictated this scene and the next episode!)

When Valentine's Day rolls around, or before then, I'll make it up to Conther for having to deal with murder investigations for my plot instead of having a nice lil' Love Day together. Maybe we'll even get another event I can play with!

[harrietswriting]

Hihi! Im so sorry if this is pushing a boundary or something, but personally, I struggle with an eating disorder. I was wondering if you could write like a Curtis sister imagine where one of them finds out that reader is dealing with an ed and tells the other brothers? Just like a shit ton of angst + comfort. Again, I’m so sorry if this is pushing some sort of boundary. I hope you have a lovely day 🫶🏻

Your Brothers Found Out You Have an ED

Curtis Brothers x gn!sibling!reader

An: I wish everyone out there struggling with an ed the best of luck at recovery. Yall are beautiful and deserve the world. 💕 I hope this is kinda accurate. If it's not and it's weird then please let me know!

Word count: 750

W: discussion of ED, reader with ED, Darry is a bit insensitive at first

"I'm not really hungry, Darry." You stand in the kitchens entryway and mess with your sleeves as your older brother cooks dinner. "I ate earlier."

"Well, you need to stop doing that. You're always spoiling your dinner. When was the last time you ate with us, y/n?" He looks over at you.

Your cheeks flush and you avoid his eyes. It's been awhile since you've eaten dinner with them. You normally just drink a glass of water and talk about your day as they eat, trying to talk over the grumbling of your stomach. But you lie, "I ate that pasta you made a few nights ago." You had taken a bite of the Alfredo pasta, but you felt awfully guilty and regretted it.

Sodapop had been sitting in the dining room and had over heard your conversation with Darry. He'd noticed your lack of eating and was really worried about you. Maybe Darry couldn't see that something was wrong, but Soda could. He couldn't remember that last time he'd seen you eat a healthy amount of food. He's also noticed your abnormal weight loss and how fatigued you've been lately.

"I'll eat leftovers when I get hungry." You lie.

Darry sighs then goes back to cooking. "Okay, y/n."

"Sorry."

"Its fine, but you're eating with us tomorrow."

Damn it. You'd have to ask one of your friends if you could stay over or hang out at their house tomorrow evening to avoid that. But you say: "okay."

You turn around and walk out of the kitchen, heading towards your room. You try not to panic about potentially having to eat dinner tomorrow while you walk.

Soda watches you go towards your room. Hr waits until he hears the door close, then he gets up and heads into the kitchen.

"Hey Darry, we need to talk about y/n." Soda says.

Darry looks up from the pot he's stirring and gives Sodapop a questioning look. "What about 'em?"

Soda hesitates for a moment, then begins. "I don't think they're eating Darry. Like, at all. Or at least, not nearly enough."

Darry's saddened by this idea, and a long, sad, heartbreaking conversation follows. He doesn't want to believe Soda at first.

Ponyboy finally finished his homework and joined his brothers in the kitchen. His heart dropped when he heard what Soda thought.

"You really think... why would y/n do that?" He asks quietly.

Soda shrugs. "I don’t know. So, what do we do now? Do we have an intervention kind of thing?"

"Y/n is eating dinner with us." Darry states, then calls your name.

"Darry, I don’t know if rushing them into eating is the best idea." Soda counters.

You come out of your room and make your way to the kitchen where all three of your brothers are. "Yeah?"

"You're eating dinner with us." Darry crosses his arms. Soda looks at you sympatheticly and Ponyboy looks worried. They can't know, right?

"I ate earlier though." You say quietly, trying to mask your panic. Soda frowns.

"What'd you eat?" Darry asks.

You pause. "I.. I made eggs."

"Don't be a liar."

"I'm not-"

"Both of you stop." Soda interrupts, "Y/n, you're not eating, and we're worried about you. That's not good for you. I'm no genius, but I'm pretty sure eating a healthy amount of food is super important."

You stare at them, unsure of what to say. They know, so you can't deny it, but you don't want to admit it either.

Darry speaks, "This ends now, this not eating thing."

"It's not that easy." You mutter.

"It's a disorder, Darry." Pony chimes in. He glances at you then looks at the ground.

This sucks. You're feel helpless. You feel cornered. You can't get yourself out of this. Its embarrassing having them know, and its worring. Yeah, you need help, but sometimes you dont want it. You hug your arms around yourself as you look at the ground and tears blur your vision.

Darry sighs, walks over, and hugs you. "It's okay, y/n. You're not in trouble. We just want to help you." Soda joins in the hug, "Yeah, y/n." Then Ponyboy joins in too. You can't help but smile a little with your brothers hugging you. You know they love and care about you, and in this hug, you feel safe.

The group hug eventually breaks up. You sniffle and wipe your eyes. Soda looks at you tenderly. "How can we help you?"

an: argh! I hope this is sweet and lives up to your expectations. I didn't want to have the reader give specifics on how the brothers can help them in the fic, because everyone is different and needs different things.

[cosmowgyral]

"Love during Cleaning Time"

▪︎ Gilbert von Obsidian

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

~chapter 1

Despite his noble status, the man who rules over the military powerhouse, Obsidian, does not keep servants at his side.

Therefore, apart from food, I needed to take care of everything by myself---

Emma: Gil, what should we do with that shelf?

Gilbert: Oh, go ahead. I don’t think there’s any classified information up there.

Emma: You can leave it to me.

In Gilbert’s laboratory, which is off-limits to everyone, I take items off the shelves, clean them, and then put them back in their places.

(But it’s visibly getting prettier.)

(It’s tiring, but it is rewarding and fun.)

Previously, Roderich used to help me. It seems there were times when others took on the role, but ever since I came here, I have been entrusted with this duty.

Gilbert: I don’t know…

Gilbert: I’m bored.

Emma: There’s only a bit left, so let’s do our best.

Gilbert: Even that little bit is bothersome.

Gilbert: You really can keep going without getting bored, can’t you, little rabbit?

Emma: I definitely feel enthusiastic when you ask me for help, Gil.

Emma: There aren’t many times I can be of help to you, so it’s times like these that makes me want to give my all.

(….? What is this box?)

While talking, I take out a box of documents carved with roses from the shelf.

It was unexpectedly heavy, testing the strength of my arms I honed from working at the bookstore.

Gilbert: What are you talking about? You’re always helpful to me.

Gilbert: Thank you.

Emma: !?

Before I knew it, Gilbert approached me from behind.

I was so surprised by his gentle ‘thank you’ that I dropped the heavy box that I was holding.

Emma: S..sorry!

Gilbert: Ahaha, you’re quite a surprise.

The impact of hitting the floor caused the contents of the box to spill and the documents were scattered.

Although Gilbert was laughing, I felt my blood run cold.

I quickly gather the documents and try to put them back in the box.

--At that moment, the words inevitably caught my eye.

Emma: “Rhodolite’s Periodic Report”?

Gilbert: Ah

Emma: ….This is…

----17 visitors this week. 8 women and 9 men.

No suspicious behaviour. Suspect’s health condition is good.

Issue of concern, movement slower than normal. Possibility of injury.

Condition requires further observation. Detailed report will be sent at a later date after investigation.

(It’s something I shouldn’t see….)

Gilbert: Oh no, you’ve seen it.

As I sat down, Gilbert put his hand on my shoulder.

Gilbert: What should I do?

Emma: …You said there was no classified information….

Gilbert: Yeah. I forgot that existed.

Emma: ……

Gilbert: The little rabbit saw something she shouldn’t have so I need to shut her up.

Gilbert knelt in front of me and leaned in with a look of amusement, and then lightly pecked my lips.

Emma: ….It’s not so bad after all.

Gilbert: Ahaha, you’re starting to understand me better, aren’t you?

(If it’s something that’s really forbidden to see, Gilbert will be merciless.)

(And he is not the type to reveal secrets carelessly.)

Calming my wild heartbeat, I lowered my gaze to the documents in front of me.

The more I looked at it, the stranger it seemed.

As the Commander of Obsidian, he is eyeing the territory of Rhodolite with keen interest.

However, the contents of the report would appear to be of no value to the layman.

It only contains the behavioural records of a certain bookstore keeper, and while there is a possibility that it might be some kind of a code, I don’t think it has enough value for the royalty of a great nation to bother reading it.

(No, wait…)

(Rhodolite’s bookstore?)

(…..)

Emma: …..Gil

(There’s only one bookstore that Gil has his eyes on.)

Emma: Could this be a report about me?

Gilbert: Ahaha, I’ve been found out.

(Since when….)

The date of the reports suggested it went back several years, even before I was chosen as Belle.

(I guess it was around the time the owner put me in charge of the store.)

I knew Gilbert had spies all across the city, but I was shocked to find such a detailed report about me.

(No wonder he was so knowledgeable about my past.)

It seems that he would get more information from his spies rather than the owner himself.

Emma: I had no idea.

Gilbert: The spy I had assigned to you is one of the Obsidian's bests.

Gilbert: His name is Michael. Do you remember him?

Emma: What? No way, Michael was a spy?!

(I knew him well. He used to be a regular customer who had started coming right after I began working at the store.)

Since I occasionally had trivial conversations with Michael, there’s no way I could forget.

Gilbert: I’m sorry. I never intended to assign a spy to you.

Gilbert: You were just an ordinary person in Rhodolite, not someone the royal family of a military powerhouse would care about.

Gilbert: But I was left with no other choice.

--*flashback*--

Gilbert: ----Akatsuki, are you insane?

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

[inkpetrichor]

Muse | Azumane Asahi x f!reader

2.- Touches. masterlist here<3

cw. a little angsty, but veeery fuffly<3, use of y/n, mentions of gossip, mentions of scars, anxiety, asahi and his fear of failure, shy asahi and y/n wc. 4.4k an. thank you so much for all the support on the prologue and first chapter! i love you all, please let me know if you'd like me to start a taglist. i poured my heart and soul on this one, hope you enjoy it<3

"So, Azumane. Have you thought about which university you would like to apply to?"

Asahi's already tense shoulders tensed even more as the counselor's words echoed in the small office. It smelled as if the window hadn't been opened in a while. The air was thick with dust, and he could feel it clinging to his throat as he struggled to find the right response. Sweat slicked his palms, and he wiped them against his pants, though it did little to stop the dampness.

He knew this conversation was inevitable—it had been looming ever since he left the volleyball club in March and avoided filling out the university preference forms handed out since his second year. His nervous smile wavered as he averted his gaze, focusing instead on the hand resting on his knee, clenched a little tighter than he realized.

What could he say? The truth? That he had no idea what he wanted to do, that the sheer number of possibilities felt more like a prison than a privilege? His indecision was a vicious cycle. The fear of making the wrong choice paralyzed him, feeding into the terror of disappointing his parents. And that fear only made every option feel more impossible than the last.

He was stuck. Paralyzed. A prisoner of his own indecision.

Ever since he left the volleyball club, the weight of his insecurities had only grown. That iron wall he’d failed to overcome now loomed over every aspect of his life. It wasn’t just about spiking anymore; it symbolized every failure, every fear, every time he wasn’t good enough. It was a constant, suffocating reminder of his limits.

In his mind, he told himself it was okay. That he just needed time. That he’d figure it out eventually. But the deadlines and expectations didn’t wait. The pressure mounted with each passing day, the iron wall growing taller the closer he got to it.

The counselor’s voice brought him back to the suffocating reality of the moment.

“Azumane?”

“O-oh. Right... I... haven’t really made a decision yet,” he finally managed to stammer out, his voice barely audible.

The counselor’s sigh was heavy with disappointment, and it only made Asahi’s muscles tighten further. He knew he had to decide, but knowing didn’t make it any easier. Everything felt overwhelming—the deadlines, the expectations, the weight of it all. And ever since Sugawara and the first years had begged him to come back to the club, things had only grown more complicated. Now there was another choice to make, another possible failure to avoid. Another thing he wanted to do but was too afraid to attempt.

Which is why he had accepted his fate when Ukai had “forced” him to participate in the practice match against the Neighborhood Association. Though “forced” wasn’t quite the right word—he hadn’t resisted much because, deep down, he wanted it. He wanted to play again, to feel the adrenaline of spiking the ball, to be with his friends on the court. A small, tentative hope began to grow inside him after that day. Even if it was just a small step forward, he felt like could face his fears. Stepping back onto that court had reminded him of how much he truly loved volleyball. No amount of fear or failure could erase that. No iron wall could make that feeling go away.

But there was another thing that terrified him just as much as the iron wall: you.

Not because you were intimidating. On the contrary, being with you brought him a rare sense of calm. Your presence was comforting, your voice soothing. But his heart—his big, dumb heart—had to complicate things. It had to beat faster whenever you smiled at him, had to yearn for something more than friendship. The fear of rejection intertwined with his fear of failure, creating an overwhelming cocktail of anxiety.

In his mind, there was no way you saw him as anything more than just a classmate—or maybe, if he was lucky, a friend.

Yet, despite his fears, there were moments that gave him hope. The way your eyes seemed to sparkle when you looked at him. The soft blush that sometimes dusted your cheeks when he spoke. The little giggles he managed to draw from you. Those fleeting moments made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same.

It wasn’t like taking that first step wasn’t hard—it was. It wasn’t as simple as saying, “I’m no longer afraid,” and then magically fixing his life and making all the choices life expected of him. He knew this. But there were choices to make, and they wouldn’t just go away. Maybe risking wasn’t so scary. Maybe not everything had to be a possible disappointment. 

Maybe, if he kept pushing like this, eventually he’d have the guts to ask you on a date. Or at least ask for your number. Eventually, he’d have the courage to tell you how beautiful your smile was or how cute you looked when you were completely absorbed in a book, too focused to notice a strand of hair falling onto your face, too focused to realize how flustered it made him when you absentmindedly brushed it behind your ear again. That small, insignificant gesture set his heart racing at a dangerous pace every time.

Eventually, he’d have the guts to do it himself—to gently brush your cheek with his finger, feel the soft skin under his touch, and tuck that strand of hair behind your ear. How would you react? Would you look up at him and smile? Would you be embarrassed?

He’d tell you how calm and warm your voice made him feel when you spoke to him. Maybe he’d have the guts to ask you to call him by his first name—or even muster the courage to call you by yours. Just imagining it made the butterflies in his stomach take flight, their wings fluttering at an almost unbearable speed.

“Good morning, Azumane-san.”

Your cheerful voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. He practically jumped in his seat, causing you to stifle a giggle behind your hand. The sound sent his heart racing, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“S-sorry. Did I interrupt your thoughts?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“N-no...” he stammered, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, yeah... but it’s no problem. Good morning to you too.”

I was thinking about you, he thought, but this is way better.

You smiled, sitting on the desk in front of him and turning your chair to face him. It was a warm, knowing smile that made his heart stutter.

“You play very well,” you said.

His mind immediately went to the practice match you had watched. He gave you an embarrassed smile, rubbing his neck again.

“Ah, that... Yeah... I guess...”

“No, I mean it,” you insisted, your eyes lighting up with sincerity. “It was amazing to see you play. To see everyone play, really.” Your expression shifted as you suddenly remembered something. “Oh! Is the little ginger one alright? His name... Shoyo-kun! Is he okay? He took one of your spikes face-first yesterday.”

“R-right, you saw that.” His cheeks warmed further, but he smiled. “He’s okay. He got right up after that. I think he was just... distracted.”

The image of Hinata flashed in Asahi’s mind—a ball of determination and energy that reminded him of the person he once aspired to be. Seeing Hinata when he first joined the team had been a whirlwind of emotions: awe, guilt, and a strange sense of responsibility. Awe at Hinata’s explossive energy. Guilt because Asahi recognized the hesitation in Hinata’s eyes when they first met—the way his own height and title as ace must have loomed over the younger player like a shadow.

That same guilt resurfaced during the match, confirmed by Hinata and Kageyama's conversation. It brought back memories of Asahi’s own struggles as a first-year. But Hinata was different—fierce in a way Asahi had never been.

Hinata’s admiration left him feeling like a fraud. How could he call himself the ace when he didn’t even believe he deserved the title?

The weight of those thoughts pressed down on him, but a gentle poke to his cheek broke through the fog. Startled, Asahi’s wide eyes darted from his extended right hand to you, who now sat perched on the edge of his desk, your elbow resting near his arm, chin cradled in your hand. Your gaze was steady, curious, and just a little too close for his already racing heart.

Heat flared across both of your faces, and you withdrew your hand immediately, looking flustered.

“S-sorry! I don’t know why I did that…” You glanced away, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve.

Asahi’s first instinct was to reassure you, though his own face was a deep shade of red. “N-no. It’s okay… I got distracted.”

“You looked… sad,” you murmured, still avoiding his gaze.

“Did I?” He blinked, his tone apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s okay. Sorry for… poking you.” You finally met his eyes, though your cheeks were still tinged pink.

I don’t mind it. Actually, please touch me more. The words hovered at the edge of his thoughts, bold and yearning. But of course, he couldn’t say that. Instead, he offered a soft reassurance. “No, no, I don’t mind it.”

Your eyes widened, surprise and something else—hope?—dancing within them. “You really don’t?”

He nodded, watching as relief softened your features, followed by a hesitant, almost bashful smile.

“I’m glad,” you said, your voice quieter now, as though the moment had become too fragile to risk breaking.

As the quiet murmur of your conversation faded, the previously empty classroom began to fill with the soft shuffle of students entering. The scrape of chairs against the floor and the low hum of chatter reminded you both that the sanctuary of this moment was fleeting. But for those fleeting seconds, the world outside the bubble of your shared space didn’t matter. Asahi’s heart thudded in his chest, not with the usual anxiety but with something gentler this time.

You noticed the lingering glances from a few classmates as they passed you by, their curious gazes flitting between you and Asahi. The faint sting of their unspoken thoughts burned in the back of your mind. Gossip would spread; you knew it. You weren’t naïve. People talked about him—his imposing stature and reserved demeanor made him a magnet for rumors. People talked about you, too, for entirely different reasons. Now they’d talk about the two of you together.

The thought wiped the faint smile from your lips. The light in your eyes dimmed, replaced by the weight of worry. You couldn’t shake the feeling that being near you might tarnish Asahi’s already misunderstood reputation. The idea hurt more than the rumors ever could.

The change in you demeanor didn’t escape Asahi’s notice.

“Well, Azumane-san, it was nice talking to you,” you said, your tone lighter than you felt. “I should really get to my seat now.” You stood quickly, adjusting the chair with a soft scrape against the floor, but before you could retreat, a warm, calloused hand gently wrapped around your wrist.

“Wait,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

Your eyes widened, flicking down to his hand and then back up to his face, concern, surprise, and urgency all colliding in your expression. His grip was incredibly soft, barely there, yet it held you firmly, as if the command in his voice alone was enough to root you in place. For a moment, your body didn’t feel like your own; it simply obeyed, the magic of his touch and tone enough to make you think, Oh, I’m waiting—I’ll wait here forever.

Your gaze darted around the classroom, landing briefly on the curious eyes of your classmates. He must have noticed too because he let go just as quickly, his cheeks flushing a soft rose as he scratched at his cheek with an embarassed gesture.

“Ah. Sorry,” he mumbled.

You shook your head slightly, trying to reassure him, though no words left your lips, still stunned by the unexpected moment. Instead, your heart raced, its rhythm almost drowning out his next words.

“Ukai-san… do you have a phone?”

“Huh? Oh. I do.”

“Can I… have your number?” 

You nodded, hoping you didn’t look too eager, though internally, your heart raced in a way that felt almost deafening. Asahi stumbled over his next words, his voice shy yet earnest. “W-well, I enjoy talking to you. I’d like to talk to you more.”

The sincerity in his voice sent warmth flooding through your chest. You nodded, fumbling to exchange contact information while silently willing your hands not to shake. The classroom filled further, the background hum of voices growing louder, but all you could focus on was Asahi’s soft smile as he looked at his phone, storing your number like it was a treasure.

As you returned to your desk, clutching your phone tightly, you whispered to yourself, “It’s just a number. Calm down.” Yet the quickened beat of your heart betrayed you.

But the whispers from around the room were harder to ignore. Witnesses to your exchange chattered quietly, their eyes darting between you and Asahi. You had grown used to the murmurs, used to the way people always seemed to find something to say. But this—this was different. Now their focus wasn’t just on you. It was on him, too.

The thought of him getting dragged into it, of his reputation being affected by simply associating with you… it was enough to dull the smile that had lingered on your lips since your conversation.

Asahi noticed. He always noticed.

And he could hear them, too—his name and yours weaving through the chatter like threads in a web. But while he dismissed the gossip about himself without a second thought, the cruel murmurs about you struck a deeper chord.

He didn’t believe them at first. Couldn’t. But the little details—the long sleeves you never rolled up, even under the scortching summer sun, even in gym class, the understanding glances from the gym teacher that painted a picture that aligned too closely with the rumors.

And it angered him. How could people take something so personal, so painful, and twist it into entertainment? The idea disgusted him, but more than that, it hurt to think you carried such a burden silently.

If he were to ask, would you share it with him? 

When class ended, he expected you to leave for the library, your usual escape. Instead, you surprised him, standing at his desk with your usual smile carefully back in place.

“Library?” you asked, a small but meaningful invitation.

His face lit up in quiet relief, and he nodded, following you out of the classroom. As you walked, he found himself watching you more than he should—the way your hair moved with each step, the way the sunlight streaming through the hallway windows seemed to cast a golden veil over your features. It was mesmerizing.

The library was quieter than usual, the morning sun filtering through tall windows, casting soft, golden streaks over the wooden tables. You settled into your usual spot, pulling out a sketchbook and pencil. Asahi watched you for a moment before sitting next to you, his large frame seeming out of place in the delicate tranquility of the space.

“I didn’t know you did art,” he said, breaking the silence, his voice soft and curious.

You smiled, glancing up briefly. “Well, I didn’t know you did volleyball.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s fair. I… quit for a while.”

The way your brow furrowed, even as your pencil moved across the page, told him you were listening.

“Why did you quit?”

“I think… I lost my confidence,” he admitted, his voice low.

Your pencil paused. You looked up at him, your gaze steady but gentle. “Why?"

He hesitated. "I messed up during a very important match. I got blocked. Over and over. My team trusted me, and I let them down.”

Asahi’s eyes dropped to his right hand, his thumb brushing over his palm absentmindedly. You noticed the way his expression clouded, his shoulders hunching slightly under the weight of his memory.

"Is that why you do that?" you said softly, pulling him back. When he looked at you, you were also staring at his hand. "You look at your hand like it committed a crime. Is it because of that?" 

He blinked, surprised by your observation. “I… I guess so,” he admitted.

Your heart ached at the sadness in his voice. You reached out hesitantly for his hand, your fingers brushing against his before gently folding them into a fist.

“Your hand isn’t guilty of any crimes, nor is it your enemy,” you said softly. “It’s your tool when you spike. It’s a part of you that you should love, not a reminder of everything you think makes you less.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at your hand holding his. His heart pounded, caught somewhere between the comfort of your words and the intoxicating closeness of your touch.

“You’re right,” he whispered, a small, hesitant smile forming on his lips. “But it’s not always a bad thing. It also reminds me how it feels on my hand when I spike. The pride I feel when I land a point.”

“I like that better,” you said, your smile soft and warm. “That’s more rooted in reality and less in what your brain tells you about yourself.”

Asahi felt his cheeks heat up again. You were killing him. It was unfair.  Your kindness, your touch, your smile. It had to mean something, right? He wasn’t just imagining this connection, wasn’t just lost in his own wishful thinking… right?

You noticed his eyes flicker from your face to where your hands were still connected. For a moment, you mistook his bashfulness for discomfort. But you missed the subtle, almost imperceptible hint of disappointment in his gaze when you let go and returned to your sketch.

"Sorry," you mumbled, embarrassed. "That was rude of me. I shouldn't judge. I don't treat myself that well either..."

You shook your head, the weight of your words settling in, but Asahi’s soft chuckle eased the tension in the air, offering a small reassurance.

"It's okay," he said, his voice gentle. "You were right. It’s not very nice." He lifted his hand, examining it with a quiet smile. "I should be nicer to this hand."

"Especially if you want your revenge one day," you suggested, half-joking.

Especially if I want you to hold it one day. The thought lingered in his mind, though he kept it to himself.

Asahi watched you sketch, his eyes wandering to the way you pulled down your sleeves and held them in place with your fingers every now and then. The graphite clung to the fabric as it inevitably brushed against the paper, but you didn’t seem to mind the mess. You never let your sleeves roll up far enough for your skin to show. A faint sadness crept into him. He tried to push it down, to keep his thoughts at bay, but the question gnawed at him.

"Ukai-san... Can I ask you something? It’s okay if you don’t want to answer, but... is it true? What people say about your arms?"

Your pencil stilled. The look in your eyes, the way you tugged your sleeves tighter, instantly made him regret his words. You looked hurt, scared, for just a moment. But after a long breath, you closed your eyes, steadying yourself before continuing your work, only a little slower now.

"Of course. People talk, after all..." you whispered, almost as if to convince yourself.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected this conversation to come up. It was only a matter of time. You knew, deep down, that if someone got close enough, it would eventually surface. But how to begin? How to explain it without making him uncomfortable, without pushing him away? What if he—

"I never believed them... at first."

There was a short silence.

"And what if they’re true?" you asked, looking up at him, your voice a little more defensive than you intended. The words left your mouth before you could stop them, and as soon as you saw his surprised expression, you immediately averted your gaze, feeling the sting of vulnerability. But his stare remained, warm, unwavering, and you could almost feel it on the side of your face. There was an uncomfortable urgency to run away in your chest, the urge to escape, but you knew you couldn’t.

"What if I do have scars... What if I did that to myself? Would you still want to be my friend?" You set down your pencil and finally met his eyes again, bracing yourself for the pity or disgust that might be there. But instead, all you found was sadness—not pity, but a sadness that seemed distant.

"What if?" he replied, his voice soft, shrugging slightly. "You’re not a bad person just because... just because you hurt yourself."

You squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you went back to your sketch.

"Are you sure you don’t care about what people say about you if you hang out with me?"

"I know about rumors. I couldn’t care less about them. I want to be your friend."

The warmth spread across your cheeks, and as silence settled between you, he shifted topics to break the awkwardness.

"That sketch is pretty. Is that a cat?" His tone was lighter now.

You chuckled softly, understanding his strategy. You pushed the sketchbook toward him, offering a better view.

"And a raven," you added, smiling. "My cousin ah—your coach," you corrected yourself "He told me you guys are having a match with Nekoma soon. I heard from my grandpa that there's a long rivalry between the teams." You shook your head with a smile as you shaded the wings of the raven, which stood defiantly against a much larger calico cat. "It's all I can think about lately. The idea of a raven fighting cats is kind of romantic, don’t you think? Like a battle out of a Ghibli movie..."

Asahi’s mind wandered back to something Kageyama had once said to him as he studied the solitary raven in your drawing.

"You don’t win alone... That’s why there are six other players on the court."

Without thinking, he reached for your pencil, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he took it from your hand. You watched as he drew five more birds, their shapes quickly forming behind the almost-complete raven.

"Ravens," he corrected softly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Plural."

"Plural. Right," you agreed, taking the pencil back and adding definition to his lines.

"Exactly. No one is alone..." he said, and there was a weight in his words, a depth that made you pause. His eyes held something more than mere words—a kind of determination, as if they held a message you weren’t yet ready to hear.

"Right... Thank you," you said quietly, feeling the weight of those simple words. There was silence in your shared gaze. Then, softly, you added, "They’re old, by the way... I don’t... Do that anymore. I’ve been clean for a long time."

"I believe you..."

You took a moment to admire his contribution to your sketch. Despite being rough, his birds were proportional and well-formed. You couldn’t help but smile.

"Have you done art before, Azumane-san?"

"Uh? N-no... Why?"

"Your ravens are pretty. You might have a talent for design."

"W-well, yours is prettier..."

"W-well, I—"

You couldn't finish the sentence. Your cheeks warmed as you both turned away, the tension between you thickening, though neither of you knew exactly why.

As the minutes ticked by, the quiet between you settled into something comfortable, almost sacred. The soft scratch of your pencil against paper was occasionally punctuated by the sound of a turning page from Asahi’s book. The golden light of the sun spilled through the window, catching the edges of his hair and making him look impossibly warm, like he belonged in a painting himself.

You glanced up at him, watching as his lips moved slightly while reading, an unintentional habit of his you found endearing. You quickly looked back down at your sketch when he shifted in his seat, heart leaping at the thought of being caught staring.

But then, his voice broke the silence.

“You know,” he said softly, closing his book and resting his hands on the table, “I don’t think people give enough credit to how strong ravens really are.”

You paused your sketching, tilting your head in curiosity. “How so?”

“They're resilient. They survive in places most birds wouldn’t. They’re clever, they adapt, and they look out for their own.” His voice grew quieter, shy, as if embarrassed by the weight of his own words. “I guess… I just think that’s... admirable.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you felt your chest tighten, warmth spreading through your limbs like sunlight. He wasn’t just talking about ravens, and you knew it.

You took a moment to finish shading the last of the wings on the lead raven in your drawing, pressing the pencil down just enough to make the lines bold and sure. Then, without looking up, you slid the sketchbook across the table toward him again, your heart racing.

“Here,” you said softly. “It’s yours.”

His eyes widened in surprise, his hand hesitating above the drawing. “W-What? No, I-I can’t—”

“You can,” you insisted, cutting him off with a small, nervous smile. “Call it a thank-you.”

His lips parted, but no sound came out at first. He glanced down at the sketch again, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered above the paper. “F-For what?” he finally managed, voice barely audible.

“For reminding me I’m not alone.”

His head shot up at that, his expression startled and his face an even deeper shade of red. You glanced away, your own cheeks burning. His mouth opened as if to say something, but he quickly shut it again, looking utterly overwhelmed.

After a moment, though, he seemed to gather enough courage to move. Slowly—almost hesitantly—his hand reached across the table. When his fingers brushed yours, it was so tentative you almost didn’t feel it.

“Th-Thank you,” he stammered, his voice soft and shaky. “For… um… trusting me. You didn't have to tell me about... yeah. I appreciate it.”

His eyes met yours briefly before darting back to the sketch. He ducked his head slightly, a shy, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. The sight made your heart ache in the best way.

In that quiet moment, you both knew something had shifted—fragile, unspoken, but undeniably real.

The space between you seemed to shrink, and you found yourself drawn to him in a way that was impossible to ignore. This growing intimacy—the quiet exchanges, the unspoken understanding—wrapped around the two of you like the sunlight streaming through the library’s windows. You could feel your heart swelling, the invisible walls you had built around yourself slowly crumbling under his touch. For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel the urge to run away.

Unbeknownst to you, Asahi felt the same pull. Neither of you realized just how deep the connection was growing, how quietly, almost imperceptibly, you were falling for each other.

tags. @strxnged♡

Next chapter↪ (coming soon!)

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

Part 4: damned if you don't

There are multiple species fighting against the time war → i really want something in new who that acknowledges this, because i love the concept of the resistance, of course there were people fighting against the time war, the time lords and the daleks aren’t the only ones with space faring capabilities, they aren’t even the only ones with time faring capabilities (though it seems implied that most of the other temporal powers got taken out early in the war)

‘I seriously doubt that any of them expect to live long enough to see the war end, i certainly don’t’ → oh narvin, this line brings me pain, but i do like it, the time war is horribly brutal, as well as its a time war, who knows how long it can go on for, do you think there were time lords who didn’t get to see its end, not because they died in battle or anything, but because they just didn’t live long enough

‘Under no romantic delusion that war is ever heroic or righteous' → can’t wait to get back to war room for this project (or really just any of gallifrey with rassilon in it) because this is definitely different to how rassilon and a good number of his followers see the time war

‘I still get reports from home about the increasingly unhinged schemes of rassilon the resurrected’ → rassilons insanity during the time war is so interesting to me, sure he wasn’t the best of people when he was originally alive, but he seemed somewhat more stable, less completely off the deepend, i wonder if it’s something about being in the matrix for that long that makes a person not quite right, you become a part of a repository of all time lord knowledge and then suddenly you aren’t and you’re back in a normal, mortal (to the extent that time lords are) body (the thirteen regeneration limit is there for a reason, that many lives can’t comfortably fit inside ones head, both in terms of that’s too much to have to remember and in terms of those past lives are still in there, at least somewhat independently of your current one), or is it a case of coming back to a society that practically worships you as a god (it’s probably both if we’re being honest)

‘I just hope they keep him away from the omega arsenal, too much to lose if that gets opened’ → interesting to me how, despite this seemingly being set pretty late in the time war, there’s still a whole arsenal of weapons that they haven’t touched, that really speaks to the power and instability of them i’d think, that even at their most desperate, there’s things the time lords won’t turn to. I do wonder if these are weapons from omega’s time, or if it was just named after him (or some combo of both where some weapons were put there later because they were deemed to dangerous, though the specific phrasing makes me think that it stays sealed for fear of what the weapons would do if it were even opened) (and assuming one of those weapons is the moment, it would make sense that others may have their own sentience as well, so they can’t be exposed to the outside world for fear of what they might do, even without someone to wield them)

‘And as for my beloved leela’ → i think gary russell should just write short trips where narvin is in love with leela, he seems good at it, and if he does that we won’t have to worry about another placebo effect (probably) (if you’re new here, welcome to my one sided feud with this man, based mainly off of four pages from one book) (i would love one of these from leelas perspective though), also just like the way that he doesn’t even seem to realize that he’s saying it until the words leave his mouth

‘Don’t let her hear that narvin’ → narvin i am shaking you, for so many reasons, but isn’t this a fucking report, that you are sending to other people

‘Romana did and now she’s gone’ → look look, this probably just him talking about the whole her being stuck in the matrix thing, but oh man am i worried it isn’t that

‘Braxiatel, vanished from the time lines’ → truly what the fuck is up with this man, i want to know what he is doing (and more importantly i want them to put him in the show so him and the doctor can be annoying at each other)

‘The time war has fractured us all’ → i’m sure this applies in the traditional ‘war is horrific’ sense, but it’s probably also more literal was well, this is a war fought across time, and therefore has consequences on timelines, how many times have they lived something, or met someone, only for that to be erased or rewritten by the war

‘One thing that no one brings up anymore is how all of this is my fault’ → oh narvin, but really this makes me think, how many people knew what he did, how far did that information spread, and who really blamed him for it out of those who did know

‘I’m as scared, confused, and frankly rudderless as they are’ → i mean that’s probably true to an extent, but narvin also probably has a lot more experience with this type of thing than any of them, not only was he coordinator of the cia for a while, but he spent who knows how long exploring other universes and even lived in one where most people wanted him dead, and then he spent time running through the time war with romana before joining the resistance, the war may be horrible and confusing for anyone, but out of most time lords, narvin is actually pretty well qualified to be out there dealing with it

Eris still running the resistance → look idk if he survives this war, but he is going to need the break of a lifetime after this

‘When i was training at the cia i had coordinators and castellans like vansell and matthias, even kelner, what i’d do now to be able to bounce ideas off one of them’ → okay so many things with this quote, a) kelner mention, this is possibly like his only acknowledgement of him after the invasion of time (at least that i know of), b) coordinators seem to be pretty high ranking within the cia, but narvin still worked with them while he was in training, this kind of lends to my theory that cia agents (at least the ones who really end up getting anywhere) are chosen rather than actually climbing up the chain of command, and that those who are chosen get to work directly with the higher ranking officers rather than having to participate in more basic training with the other trainees/junior agents, and c) the castellans work with the cia, this is interesting to me, but i don’t really know how to articulate how at the moment

‘Their homeworlds were both among the first casualties of the time war’ → nekkistani and sunari

Archetryx mentioned → is this the only time we hear of it outside of the context of the events of the apocalypse element?

‘I am at this moment completely unconvinced that what i am about to do here is survivable’ → oh narvin

‘Would anyone really care if i died here today, or notice. I’m not entirely sure i would’ → the sheer difference between this and him from damned if you do, the time war has really just broken him

Gallifrey has astronomers, unsurprising, but well that’s another official confirmation of a job you can have on gallifrey

Askran sounds familiar to narvin → he never truly forgot kransa (i really like the idea that you can’t truly erase something from someone’s mind, even if you hide it, the shape of it will always be there, the person will always be able to bring some of it back even if they can’t consciously remember it

‘Battle uniform of a gallifreyan chancellery guard’ → they have a specific battle uniform, i’m assuming it isn’t any of the ones we’ve seen on the show, as those seemed to be very bad for battle, maybe they upgraded them a bit after things kept happening and they kept being useless, or its just another case of the war consuming everything on gallifrey

‘There was no way of them knowing that’s where i was from too’ → something about narvin becoming unrecognizable as a time lord over the course of the series when he had started as very much a time lord vs leela being mistaken for a time lord by pretty much anyone who isn’t one when she started off about as different to a time lord as you can be

‘But our rational brains quickly reject it and we barely know it happens’ → something something time lords shaping their own version of the narrative so much that anything outside of it must be false, even on an unconscious level, if it doesn’t make sense to how their society works then clearly it doesn’t work that way and it’s best that you forget about it

Of course he feels guilty for what happened to ace, he doesn’t even know it was brax’s fault does he

He remembers the watchmaker here, interesting

‘Years, decades, maybe centuries ago’ → one day i’m going to figure out the timeline of this series, one day (well hopefully) (this is in reference to the beginning of romana’s presidency)

‘Not only had she ceased to exist, she never had existed’ → this isn’t like new information, but it’s still fucked up that they can do that

The time shade rewrote reality around narvin, changed the name of the planet, brought kransa back

Well, at least narvin eventually learned how to lie

‘One of the dalek temporal bombs that stuck in the early days of the war’ → this makes me curious as to a) how long the time war went on for and b) at what point in the war narvin is at now, because he’s talking about the daleks directly attacking gallifrey, which as of war room 2 they haven’t done, and by that point the war is very much an established thing, so is it a case of that’s going to happen soon, or that the war just goes on for so long that even if it happens in the future of where the characters are currently at it counts as the early war

‘We’ve spent however many years fighting this war’ → look, they’re probably being vague about the timeline on purpose so that they can do whatever they want within the war and not be constrained by a certain amount of years to do it in, but i want a timeline that makes an amount of sense

Stasers upgraded at some point in the war to be able to penetrate dalekanium

Is the staser sound different here or is it just me (i mean i guess he did just say they were upgraded, but i like the original staser sound, sue me)

‘She would have had enough instruction and vortex training for her mind to learn the time lord trick of telepathic translation’ → a few things a) seems to be implying that this is a skill any time lord is capable of, but not necessarily one everyone is taught, b) vortex training, what is that and how does what i’m assuming is exposure to the vortex help with telepathic translation, c) ‘for her mind’ not specifically kransa herself learning it, possibly just some weirdish wording, but it also has me thinking that this may be in part an unconsciously picked up skill through exposure rather than active practice (though i assume it would be some combo of both)

‘All my years with romana, leela, and the others meant my own was pin sharp of the practice’ → i’m going to assume that this just means that he’s had to use this skill a lot, but it does bring up the somewhat interesting implication that they were speaking different languages on the alternate gallifreys (or maybe just different versions of gallifreyan that weren’t completely different, but different enough that he had to use that skill some) since him and leela didn’t do much traveling together out in the universe outside season four, though this could be implying that he needed the skill because leela wasn’t speaking gallifreyan, but she was so sorry if that’s what you’re implying gary russell, you’re wrong

‘We knew you were destined to save the time shades’ → gallifrey is really just one big cycle of people using other people to their own ends, your value is only in your usefulness in so many cases on that planet, not even weird god/spirit things are above that

‘Shortly after graduating from your class with honors at the celestial intervention agency’ → so agency training is kind of like academy 2.0? I mean this would make sense, there’s a part where narvin references having had two hundred years of training when we know the academy takes less than that (romana started traveling with the doctor when she was younger than 140), but it is interesting to me that narvin specifically taught a class, despite at that point being a pretty high ranking officer (at least i would assume, since it probably was pretty near to vansells death and if he became the head of the cia after that he would have already had to have been high ranking), do they really just give people cadets to train instead of like having that be a specific role someone has, i mean there’s probably something to be said about having people who are presumably very experienced in what they do do the training, but also, don’t they have like other things to be doing

‘We thank you, for achieving what was foretold and must be completed’ → to me this kind of feels like the implication that even though it’s something that had to happen, narvin still could have just not done it (something something fixed points aren’t actually fixed, but more something that the time lords have decided must happen, so then they happen and they will do pretty much anything to ensure that they happen)

The time shade is able to just destroy the dalek weapons, but is not able to just do that on it’s own since it saw narvin being there, so narvin had to be there, once the future is observed, it is no longer in flux

‘We can influence only the effect, not the cause’ → interesting how this contrasts the whole ‘the story changes, the ending stays the same’ thing that the cia has going on (or had, given what point in the timeline we are at)

‘And that is how my resistance cell survived the last great timewar’ → Narvin survives to the end of the time war!!!! Also seems that he’s now telling someone this story (the war doctor (?) based on him asking where leela is, i mean idk who else he’d be telling this to and asking that so)

Echoes through eternity notes

Part 1: damned if you do

(i already did my reactions so this is mostly going to be focusing on lore implications) (fair warning, this is Long)

i will say, i love that they're putting the theme for the era each audio takes place in, season one theme i have missed you

the comments about bad weather not being common on gallifrey are interesting to me, is it a case of they're really just not common, or is it due to environmental manipulation (i'm inclined to go with the latter)

very interesting that the transduction barriers are only over the citadel (pretty sure this is contradicted in other things, but also maybe there are just different layers of transduction barriers, idk)

they're soundproof

outsiders -> societal rejects, like renegades, but without the leaving gallifrey (or possibly that they can't given they never reached time lord status in the first place (called 'uneducated'), is renegade only applicable to time lords) (also shaboggans are referenced later in this audio, are they different or just two names for the same group of people)

leela lives with the outsiders 50% of the time, wonder when this stopped (i'd say after becoming romana's body guard, but i feel like in the early seasons she still managed to find some time to spend in the outlands, and in the later seasons I doubt she leaves the capitol as much) (something something becoming more integrated into time lord society whether or not she or the time lords like it)

'all with more than a passing interest in our temporal capabilities' -> this is either referring to those at the academy and narvin distrusting them because of this or that the academy is open to anyone with an interest and i can't actually tell which

'all cia coordinators' -> very interesting to me that there are multiple coordinatiors, the thing is though that we still only really see narvin as the coordinator (same with vansell while he has that job), so my theory is that there is a head coordinator (in this case narvin) who has oversight over the whole cia and handles the majority of the diplomatic relations with the other branches of the government and is the one who is put in the public eye, allowing the others to work with more secrecy, i'd also assume that other coordinators oversee sections of the agency rather than the whole thing

establishment that the high council, inner council, and supreme council are all separate things, unfortunately this does not tell us what the actual differences between them are and neither does anything else really, though that's typical of anything relating to time lords

'various chancellors and castellans of the chapters and houses' -> there were references to different chapters having their own castellans in other gallifrey audios, but the inclusion of houses is interesting to me, i have the feeling that it wouldn't be all houses with their own castellan, but i'm not entirely sure what he means by this (maybe theres something along the lines of each chapter having a house that represents it on the high council?), also i thought the implication was that there was only one chancellor, it wasn't a per chapter things (though maybe theres like a chancellor chancellor who works directly with the president and then chancellors appointed for each chapter)

'that's the one constant on gallifrey, change is never irreversible' oh buddy you have no clue what's coming. I do find it hilarious how much he talks about not liking romana here knowing what he's going to be like in the future, it is genuinely fun to get to see early narvin in a context we never have before, especially with access to his inner thoughts, because even though he's an ass and still working against romana and leela, you can see the basis for the person he will become later, he still fundamentally is a guy that cares a lot about the things that are important to him

'rassilon, omega, and the other' -> finally the other gets mentioned, also kind of interesting to me how he's remembered, but his name is still lost (do we get an explanation as to why anywhere else? feels like some shit rassilon would pull, and given the other two have their names remembered i don't think it just happened naturally)

matthias used to be cia -> it's interesting to me that he goes from being cia to working in other parts of the government, because from what we've seen it seems that the cia is kind of at odds with the other parts of the government (especially the president and their immediate inner circle) so I feel like being ex-cia would not lend itself well to getting a job in another branch of government, it feels like they wouldn't be trusted enough by other politicians for that (not that there's really a whole lot of trust anywhere in time lord politics but you get my point) (though possibly depending on when he was cia it might just not be known by those outside the cia that he was once a part of it) (i say depending on the time because of the implications that romana forced the cia to become more public with its dealings and stripped it of some of its power) (that being said, i do think the coordinator was always a kind of public facing figure there to cover up what the cia was really doing and have a hand in politics outside the cia to keep the organization informed)

'although the practice was frowned upon for a cia coordinator, i had adjusted my wrist communicators chime to identify the caller' -> interesting how he specifies that its frowned upon for his position in particular (something something secrecy and not giving any info to the enemy (other time lords) something something)

'junior rank time lord' -> i do not understand time lord ranks, this seems to be used both in reference to experience and nobility status at different times, i need a fucking encyclopedia or something

shitting on prydonians!!!! <- words of a guy who definitely doesn't have opinions on the chapters and how prydonians are kind of stuck up assholes a lot of the time

'at the end of each semester she was seconded to me' -> she was just mentioned as having been a recent academy graduate, so i'm assuming that this is in reference to her cia training (pretty sure there's an audio somewhere where narvin mentions it being two hundred years, though i could never figure out if that was academy + cia training or just cia training) also if this is here cia training i find it interesting that shes working under a coordinator, i wouldn't exactly imagine the guy who runs the place having to deal with recent academy graduates unless that was something he chose to do (and given narvin's tendency to try and adopt/mentor any young adult he spends more than five minutes around this does not surprise me)

god i would love to see what young narvin was like, i mean we know he was at least somewhat defiant (you know the whole abandoning his chapter for the cia thing) but i wonder what he was like as a cia trainee (also the implication here that he was working under vansell much in the way that kransa is working under him, maybe the cia coordinators do take on apprentices (or what i think is more likely is that they select promising agents young and train them to take on higher up positions within the organization later in life, i mean we know vansell was working with the cia even in his academy days, so i don't feel like this is much of a stretch)) (though the way narvin talks about it makes it seem like it's just a part of the job and not something they choose to do, but then again time lords love nothing more than tradition so maybe its just a thing that is done and has been done, so they do it even if they don't particularly want to or have to)

the matrix keepers -> interesting how its a job for those on their last regenerations (something something the old are given the task of upkeep of gallifreys secrets because they're old enough to know them just from life experience?) (or them knowing the secrets is not seen as a threat because of how close to becoming a part of the matrix they are, whatever they learn there is just going to go back into the matrix after all, and there's really not that much time until that happens), they also seem to be separate from the rest of time lord society (they've got their own coordinators and they seem to live down there) so they're not really at rick of spreading gallifrey's secrets

the ability to see through perception filters is learned

catacombs protected by perception filters at the entrance and psychic defenses within the air itself -> and yet academy era romana was just hanging out down there for fun it seems (also the reference to the ancient beings that live down there ('almost mythical' which is so interesting to me since we see over and over again that gallifreyan myths are just stories about their actual history and that their monsters are real, it seems here that narvin is acknowledging this to some extent), so they just know that there's things down there i guess? i mean seems very time lord to not do anything about it because if they're in the catacombs they're presumably not bothering them, but they're still accessible if needed for whatever purpose they may see fit

love that narvin is just letting kransa tag along even though it mean she's technically disobeying orders just because it annoys valyes

'the cia decides who does and doesn't have clearance in all security matters' -> interesting implications that they have the final say when it comes to security of gallifrey, not entirely surprising though (something something it being leftover from their start as rassilons guards even though they've split from their association with the presidential office by this point)

'i was rather surprised at how easily i lied' -> narvin shouldn't that be part of your fucking job description, though it does have the interesting implication that lying isn't necessarily needed to get into the high rankings of the cia, this could make sense given how much power they seem to hold, its more of a need to know how to proper wield that power than to be able to lie

cia intervention used to get around the legal and political consequences fro certain actions -> they seem to still operate outside the law to an extent, though narvins reaction says that maybe they are still able to be held accountable to it

'perception filters had not been fully triggered' -> ???? narvin what do you mean by that, i've been typing for too long to actually put the effort into thinking about this one, i would like to request that narvin explain it to me personally, but honestly i don't think he actually knows about about perception filters for that

capitol seems to be split up into sectors, i very much would like a map of this place or something because it seems huge and complicated based on everything we've heard about its architecture

love the idea that you can look through a perception filter by catching it out of the corner of your eye

narvin not knowing how the perception filters work -> i wonder if this is a type of thing that you only learn if you pursue certain career paths, like you're not going to learn the details of how a perception filter works in an introductory engineering class, but you might learn how to create one in a more advanced class (also probably something something they don't want people knowing these things because even if they are other time lords they still need to be able to hide information from the general public and people knowing exactly how perception filters work puts that at risk)

being a time lord lets them see through the perception filter -> interesting how this is something that seems explicitly linked with the whole looking into the untempered schism thing, having that experience fundamentally changes a person and how they see the universe (also interesting how he links it to being 'time lords of rank and status' because as we have previously seen its a thing that happens when gallifreyans are pretty young, i am curious as to if he's just saying this to separate them from the alien students that managed to see through it though)

'a time lord, probably of the first or second rank' -> again with the time lord ranks, see he's talking about academy students here so i would assume said time lord is also an academy student, based on other bits from this audio i wonder if the ranks are sort of a way of showing how far along in their education they are (sort of an analog to stuff like elementary, middle, and highschool, as well as college and postgrad stuff), with his comment about the 'time lord of rank' and looking into the untempered schism possibly that is how you earn being a first rank time lord, if you pass the test of the untempered schism you get that rank, and then there's second rank which idk what that would refer to but it seems that it possibly still means you're at the academy, and given kransa is called a junior rank time lord, i'm assuming that is given to time lords pretty fresh out of the academy

interesting the implication that the houses get punished for the actions of their members whether or not they actually had anything to do with what that person was doing (something something legacies and nobility, can't have a bad mark on their record otherwise it says something about the whole bloodline)

the doors use biodata -> interesting to me because we see in other things that there also seem to be retinal scans and just straight up codes, wonder if this is a case of differing security levels, anyone can learn a code, and i would assume its much easier to fake a retinal scan than a scan of someones biodata

is it just the time lords we meet, or are all of them weirdly self sacrificial

'according to some accounts, we were no longer in the same time and space as the rest of the planet' -> fascinated by this, the catacombs are their own sort of pocket dimension (and there's the whole thing with the door disappearing after they go through it)

'the creatures and whatever existed in the catacombs had created their own pocket reality'

the thing about gallifrey as a planet is that it's full of people who insist on scientific belief and that religion and myth and magic are below them, but it fundamentally is a place that is full of magic and myth, their history is so long and complex that the time lords themselves are mythical beings and their myths are historical accounts

'assuming the dimensions in here are stable and not in a state of flux or wither' -> interesting to me because the like fundamental state of things on gallifrey is that they don't flux of wither, but the catacombs seem exempt from this, narvin assures kransa it's probably fine, but there's no guarantee like there is on the rest of gallifrey

and narvin discovers his instinct to adopt people -> i mean on that note i do like that even though this is early narvin and he clearly holds all of the biases instilled in him by time lord society, he still also clearly cares, we see the basis of the passion he puts into the things he cares about that leads him to be a better person in his future

are they using some sort of psychic whatever to choose the direction? intuition? because this is clearly some sort of teaching moment, so its not just random, but a skill that can be learned, what exactly are they basing this off of, like what are they subconsciously looking for to lead the way or do they even not quite know and its just a thing that they do

east gallifrey doesn't have houses!!!!!! -> god i love anything that shows that gallifrey and the time lords aren't just a monolith, they may present themselves that way to outsiders, but they're not all the same, there's also the fact that despite having no house she still has a chapter which actually i feel like helps to clarify a lot of confusion around how the chapters work (at least for me), so houses probably have chapters that they are affiliated with and if you are born into that house, you are probably going to be in that chapter, but at the same time it is perfectly possible to go to the academy for a chapter that your house is not associated with (though i'd assume this is much less common than joining the chapter associated with your house)

'someone from one of the greater houses' -> brax house (sort of) mention, there's also his thing about chapters and houses not mattering as much these days and it being like a thing that he wasn't ostracized for this (something something the houses must maintain their image because their image is their power, but that power (and with it the need to control the image) is slowly fading), the whole everything about gallifreyan class structure is very interesting to me, because clearly the time lords are the ruling class on gallifrey, but even among them theres differences, your house or chapter has an influence (prydon has produced more presidents than any other chapter and we know that multiple of the chapters hold little to no political power) (and with the houses we see in transference that being born into a house doesn't mean you'll go to the academy and become a time lord, but i'm sure that for the houses of higher status (say lungbarrow since we're talking about brax here) it's pretty much a guarantee that a person will go on to become a time lord)

'my own origins from a family of humble temporal engineers, my uncles transgressions that brought about his exile many years ago' -> i need to know more about narvins backstory, please tell me more about narvins backstory, what did his uncle do? also theres the fact that narvin was not born into high status but still managed to achieve high rank within the cia, wonder what that process was like for him

the bit about narvin wondering if brax was goading him personally -> the implication that narvin is very much affected by his house status in his everyday life/his career while brax probably doesn't have to worry too much since he was born into a high house

'is my background a problem for my training or future' -> time lord classism runs deep, i mean the eveything about this interaction shows this, but yeah

'the ground beneath us, well beneath me, i can only assume it was the same for kransa' -> the fact that the catacombs are weird and fucked up enough for this to be a thing he says is really something, i mean he does go onto talk about the wall being weird and them moving, the dimensions around here are weird and i like that, citatels haunted

seventh door -> what is the significance of the different matrix doors?

'conceptual environments that simply couldn't exist but appeared completely real' -> like i said before citadels haunted, but seriously i think its interesting that the structures themselves are alive, i mean we see this with the houses and stuff, but with the matrix it's a repository for the minds of dead time lords, so i have the feeling that it's less it was built to be alive in the first place and more the accumulation of time lords within it gave it a sort of life, and that even though these structures aren't entirely 'real' because they are built from the minds of a psychic species and are interacting with the minds of a psychic species they may as well be

'were the catacombs simply an extension of the apc net itself' -> see above

'but surely others had studied it before' -> if you have to say this they probably didn't (or it was like one guy) (speaking from experience)

'everyone knew about the catacombs ..... but i couldn't recall any reports from people who'd explored beyond, but surely they must exist. all the stories of the creatures that dwelt here must come from somewhere, someone, so why couldn't i remember reading anything' -> the information is known but it does not exist, love this concept, a society that catalogues everything and yet things from right under their own feet go unwritten, i feel like to an extent this is probably a product of how their society is structured and what beliefs they deem acceptable, all their myths and monsters are real, but that's too close to magic so we won't write it down, on the other hand maybe they don't want to be written down, maybe its that there is information that can only be properly passed on through stories and not reports, also something something all time lords are connected to the matrix, the matrix is the repository of all time lord knowledge, there are something that you don't need to read about, that you don't need to learn, but you still know them

there are non humanoid students at the academy -> don't think there's actually any big lore implications with this one, just seemed like something to note

'their torch light appeared to unnaturally stop' -> narvin your planet is haunted i don't know what to tell you

'it was as if by standing there he, she, it somehow absorbed light, shadow, anything' -> like i said before the time lords may like to present themselves as a society that's above 'primitive' beliefs, but fundamentally gallifrey is a place of magic (now there's the argument to be made that magic and science are one and the same but i don't thing that negates my point)

'the head was a black globe .... it gave neither light nor reflection, again as if absorbing everything around it. a black hole'

'i don't know why but i knew this thing was not benign' -> has some sort of psychic aura?

the implication here that narvin considers like actual emotional responses to be below time lords (reminds me of homunculette crying about marie while going why am i crying i'm a time lord i don't care about things)

'its ability to create pockets of frozen isolated time meant it was more powerful than anything i could ever have imagined' -> very interesting to me knowing that the cia have put whole planets in stasis or time loops or whatever before, does it get more complex as you get to smaller spaces? actually maybe its that they need complex technology to do this and the time shade is just kind of doing it

also i've said it before and i'll say it again, gallifrey is a deeply haunted planet, and i don't just mean that as a joke, it has a long enough history and its technology works in such a way that its myths and gods and ghosts are all real

'i'm going to be destroyed by the living embodiment of sarcasm' -> i mean really narvin, how else would you go out if not that

'the time shades were legendary, reports of their existence going back to the days of rassilon' -> something something the time lords dared to mess with time so it forever changed how their world worked, like with the matrix dimensions being weird and that information just being Known i feel like that could be a product of accumulated time lord minds within it, but with the time shades i feel like its more a consequence of if you mess with time it will forever change everything, both in your past and future, these things have consequences on the fabric of the universe itself

'the shade of eternity, the shade of war, the shade of dreams, the shade of protection, the shade of.. i couldn't remember the entire pantheon at the moment' + the shade of portent -> i truly do love how time lords act like they're above religion and all that but they undeniably have gods and they still do treat them as gods

i feel like there's probably something to the fact that it's wearing gold, i just don't know what at the moment

'for a time lord of so low a rank' -> see here i think its talking about rank in terms of houses not like achievement of status, because in terms of job narvin is pretty high ranking, but as we've established he does not come from a particularly noble background

'you are a pivot around which so much of what is to come rotates' -> this kind of plays into an idea that i really like and its that gallifrey's future is largely fixed, the time lords can mess with the time lines of other species and planets all they want, but by the nature of them being the ones to wield that power over time, they can't actually alter their own time lines all that much, since they can change time they are also the center around which time changes, the eye of the storm if you will, and that means that they have very little control over what happens to them (maybe this is why they're so obsessed with controlling the narrative, because if they can't actually control the events themselves, they can at least control how everyone perceives them)

'shocking really but it has been decreed' -> time herself said it and we can't argue with that (at least that's how i'm choosing to interpret this)

'free will, change, alteration is not an option'

the way the time shade talks to narvin (i'm not writing it all out sorry) about how he's just a small bit of practically nothing in the scheme of existence -> the time lords see themselves as so important, but really they are just people like everyone else in the universe and the universe will largely treat them as such, a king may hold more power, but at the end of the day he's just as human as a farmer, and the dirt they're buried in won't be able to tell the difference

'a shard of the essence of the untempered schism, but wrapped around reality, my reality' -> this is very cool imagery to me, just the fact that for a moment the web of time is bent to wrap around narvin and his existence, that the time shade has the power to do that

'the high collared black of a magistrate' -> more info about how time lords dress is always good to have, if you're me at least, not that i particularly do anything with this information, i just like having it

narvin seeing that he's the one to start the war :(

narvin is actually linked with a tardis (i'm assuming its the one ace rigged), i love that we get confirmation that it's not just a tardis he is flying, but His tardis (also the 'linked eternally' bit -> the bond between a time lord and their tardis is forever then? interesting given how other things have implied that the bond can be severed, but maybe this is only the case in extreme cases, but otherwise it just stays? also maybe something something tardises exist in a relationship with the vortex that means they don't perceive time linearly and that applies to their bond with their time lords)

the encounter with the time shade is erased from his memory, he still has the impression of it, but of course just writes it off as shadows, what else are you going to do in a place like that where reality isn't quite real

knowledge comes with a price -> the price was kransa

i said this in another post, but i'm going to say it again because it's still funny to me, but i know narvins note to romana is probably through official channels, but i am just imagining him sending her anonymous hate mail

interesting how even if its been erased narvin seems to be able to know something is gone and even what is gone (something something time lords and their unique relationship and ability to perceive time)

he still dreams about it, the burning planet and kransa -> he needs that knowledge for time to happen as it should, as it must (the time war was always going to happen and he was always going to start it, it's unavoidable, it's what time has determined will happen so it has to happen, the story can change, but the ending will stay the same)

'saving gallifrey from its president' -> well he will be doing that in the future, but definitely not from the president he was expecting

[bichikichi]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE NEETS‼️‼️

They grow so fast,,, old men 🥺🥺🎉🎂

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 4 - Nuthin' but Boothill Edition

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[deus-ex-mona]

when you say you’re happy being by yourself

but maybe that’s just what you’re trying to convince yourself of…?

[stellarspecter]

what if i said this tornado loves you ben hargreeves & the horror & jennifer gifset. what then