#also Lady lives!!! everyone lives!!! I am god!!!
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chippedcupwrites · 8 months ago
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Sansa Stark │Character Creation (in/sp)
HERE are screenshots of the whole set, if you wish to read the little details.
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ironunderstands · 5 months ago
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Ngl I despise stupid ass tweets like this
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There is a time and a place for talking about sexualization, but like you cannot be serious.
It’s shorts. She’s wearing shorts. I know part of the reason why her thighs are exposed is because people like to look at thighs, but oh my god. For 5 seconds, 5 goddamn seconds can the people in this fandom not treat women’s bodies like they are some inherent sin? ITS SHORTS.
Based off this tweet you would assume she was dressed like THIS or something (although this one has SOME armor LMAOO)
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But not just by hoyo standards, but by normal people standards, Feixiao is wearing a regular outfit, especially considering the climate she lives in is probably fairly warm, and she’s not a normal human being, so all that extra armor wouldn’t be doing much for her anyways.
Hell, this is a universe where shit like the antimatter legion exists, and I’m sorry, but a few pieces of metal really aren’t going to do much against the stuff that Feixiao might be facing, and considering how restricting armor can be, a pilot such as herself would prefer lighter clothing. Honestly if we want to have a discussion about practicality or realism, the flowy/longer parts of the outfit should be the ones under fire, but that’s not the complaints here.
And I get where this person is coming from.
I understand wanting to see an armored lady, especially considering her male counterpart seems to possess that, but this is not the way to approach it at all.
But calling it misogyny? AND SOFT PORN?? SHORTS??
SHORTS
Like do you hear yourself? You sound like a puritan right now? Honestly I’d prefer Feixiao having her thighs out over hearing someone talk about them like they only exist for gooners to gawk at.
Moreover, considering the absolute nightmare that was the copy-past female Luofu designs, I’d say that hers is a breath of fresh air
Also, if you supposedly can’t take a woman seriously because her legs are exposed.. get help dude. Please.
I don’t even think it’s ridiculous to believe that her design is sexualized, especially with the garter, but like, why like this?
Oh, and Jingyuan’s design is sexualized as well, it’s just not through exposed skin. He has a whole ass corset and thigh garter and he’s imposing and has a deep voice and glowy ass eyes and long hair and he stares at the camera in his splashart like That and you get where I am going with this because HES MEANT TO HE HOT TOO. He just has a different kind of appeal
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For fucks sake his lightcone literally has him lounging in a chair legs spread eyeing a bird sleepily as the light hits him like that and his face looks like that wand you expect me to believe this game isn’t trying to present him as attractive? For fucks sake he practically has an adoptive son. This is the dilf older man fucker final boss and yet a woman with shorts is what sends you spiraling?
Don’t act like you didn’t see the TikTok comments of people wishing they were his bird when he got released. Or the master stroke jokes? Or everyone and their mothers (literally according to Cyyu) drooling over his EN voice? “I AM the reinforcements?”
If you want to talk about non-sexualized generals and pull up a picture of Jingyuan I will (and currently am) laugh in your face because to be honest more revealing clothing would make him less horny because the uniform is part of the appeal.
I rest my case
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shapelytimber · 3 months ago
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i noticed obimaul isn’t in the “one killed the other” category in your sapphic au character sheet! does obi-wan not kill maul in this au? :0 (btw you’re doing god’s work)
Nope ! I really like Maul's canon death, but alas I love Obimaul so the bitch can stay around a bit longer :)
Didn't really refined the details, but the broad idea is Maul came to tatooine to kill Obi wan but couldn't bring herself to do it, and Obi wan could 't do it either.
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Maul after losing everything and years of loneliness not being able to bring herself to kill Obi wan, the most important person in her life.
And Obi wan alone on tatooine, having lost everything and everyone she ever knew can't bring herself to refuse Maul's company. The jedis are dead, and Maul might be a dark side force user but not really a sith lord, why refuse the company of the only one left from her previous life.
Two sad touch starved old ladies living together in the desert <3 oh nooo Obi wan's shack only has one teeny tiny bed, guess we *have* to sleep on top of each other.... Wdym in the 15 years we lived together we could have bought another one >:( shut up
Very much "you are my greatest ennemy my hatred for you kept me alive long enough to realise you are literally the woman of my life" vs "the one night stand that killed my dad and I bisected 20 years ago came back to haunt me. I don't have it in me to keep you away and I've seen enough people I've known die so you can stay. Also if I have you under my roof that's one less potential threat to the skywalker shaped child living 30 minutes away, you did try to run little Anakin over with your shitty little bike once. Keep your loved ones close and your ennemy closer am I right- wait"
By the time the original trilogy rolls around, Maul passed away tho. Peacefully in her sleep, of an anevrism, falling down some stairs idc she just isn't around for Luke Skywalker and co bullshit
(hehehe thank you <3<3)
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arc-misadventures · 3 months ago
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Can we have Jaune and Coco rag on Cinder for her outfit she wears to blend in at Beacon? Its not very good looking.
(Also is it offensive to have Coco do a gay disappointed stare?l
We Need To Talk
Cinder: Alright, we've got our uniforms, now it's time to blend in with the rest of the students.
Mercury: This should be easy enough to do.
Emerald: They'll just see us as any other student.
Neo: (Rolls her eyes as she fellows these three imbecile)
Cinder: Alright, now all we have to do is mingle a little so we don't stand out as a bunch of loners. Let's ming...?
Jaune: ...
Coco: ...
Cinder: Uhhhh... Hi...?
Jaune: You are wearing... a school uniform...?
Cinder: Of course I am. I'm a student of, Haven Academy, so of course I wear their school uniform.
Jaune: ....
Coco: ...
Coco: It doesn't fit her.
Cinder: What?
Jaune: And, yet... it does?
Coco: It's her face.
Jaune: Partly.
Cinder: My face, what's wrong with my face?
Coco: She looks too old to be a student.
Cinder: Old?!
Coco: But still, the school uniform does fit her.
Jaune: In the porn film category?
Mercury: Pfft!
Coco: Yes, that's why it fits so well! She looks like she's the star in a porn film!
Cinder: EXCUSE ME?!
Jaune: But, not the bland crap you'll find in, Atlas: Girl with pigtails being done in by the school jock.
Coco: Of course not! She has too much class for that! She is more like the kind you find in, Mistral. Where she seduces the shy classmate with a massive package, or is seduced by her teacher showing her how much of a daddy complex she has~!
Cinder: A what complex?
Jaune: Or, she's the milf seducing her daughters schoolmate while wearing her old uniform.
Coco: Nice~!
Cinder: W-W-What...?
Mercury: Piftails?
Emerald: Daddy complex?!
Neo: (Silent laughing!)
Jaune: Overall grading?
Coco: Seven out of ten. She looks good in that school uniform, but she doesn't look that good in it. You?
Jaune: Six out of ten. She just looks too old. Like five years to old to be in school.
Coco: Agreed.
Jaune: There you go, six point five out of ten. Congratulations!
Cinder: Thank you...?
Coco: So, lunch?
Jaune: Yes, I am quite famished.
Cinder: W-What just happened?
Yang: Whoa, that was close...
Cinder: Close?
Yang: Yeah, those two are part of, Beacons Fashion Trio. They judge everyone's fashion, and based on their verdict. You can suffer grave consequences based upon your fashion choices.
Emerald: They judge you based on your fashion taste; What do they do, say really mean things?
Mercury: write you a strongly worded letter?
Emerald: Pfff!
CEM: Hahahahaha!
Yang: They water boarded me.
CEM: HAHA-Ha...?!
Emerald: T-They did what?
Yang: They waterboarded me... for wearing fucking crocs.
Cinder: Y-You're kidding me...
Yang: By the gods I wish I was... So you lot better be careful. If you dress unfashionably... You will learn true fear...!
CEMN: ...
Emerald: The fuck is with these people?!
Cinder: Don't worry, I'm certain nothing bad will happen. Afterall we all dress fabulously~!
~~~
Cinder: BERERERE!?! GERGHERGHERH?!!
(Splash)
Cinder: Bwah! (Cough, Cough, Cough!)
Coco: A leather vest, a leather pauldron, grey tight sports pants, high heel shoes, and fingerless bicker gloves... What the fuck were you think that, that was fashionable?!
Cinder: It was just an outfit!
Jaune: It was a crime against fashion!
Coco: And, don't even get me started on the bandages you're using as a bra! Lady, ditch the bandages! There isn't even anything to show!
Cinder: Hey?!
Coco: Why are you even associated with this walking trash bag, Roman? I thought you had better taste then this?!
Cinder: Roman...?
Roman: Hey, she threatened me into working with her! I've been trying to get out of working with her cronies. You think I want to work with this slob!
Cinder: You betrayed me...?
Roman: I may have made a lot of money working for you. But, the threats to my, and Neo's lives..
Neo: (Smiles, and waves~!)
Roman: And, your plans to destroy, Vale have soured my moods to keep working with you. But, your taste in fashion?! That's too far for me missy!
Cinder: What?!
Glynda: She was going to do what? Roman, why didn't you tell me, I would have dealt with her?
Roman: Her fiery red dress was fashionable enough I let it slide, but this! This thing crosses the line!
Glynda: Understandable. Now tell me what it was she was planning, and I'll get you a plea deal, to avoid a lengthy jail sentence.
Roman: Deal!
Cinder: TRAITOR!
Roman: Oh, pish posh. I was never on your side to begin with. The only side I'm on was mine, Neo's, and fashion!
Cinder: When I get out of here, I am going to gut you like a...?!
Roman: Blah blah blah! Dunk her, Neo!
Cinder: Wait no!
(Spash!)
Cinder: BERGERHUR?!! DURGEHEREDEREDGUR?!!! BUDERDGHER?!
Glynda: She's holding her under rather violently...
Roman: Bitch melted her ice cream.
Glynda: A true monster...
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ozai-the-bonsai · 3 months ago
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Memento Mori
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: loads and loads of tension in the air!!!!
A/N: I absolutely loved writing this chapter, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did - I am excited to see what you think about it!!!
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After supper, Daemon found her lurking around Caraxes, she shined like a beacon in the dark of the night.
During the meetings with the riverlords, Lúthril had been by Daemon’s side, keeping her distance from everyone around her, only interfering to offer Daemon her wisdom or when Daemon asked her to provide her opinion on certain matters. Even though she kept saying that she had no King, in front of the little lords of the Riverlands, she did indeed act as if she had pledged her loyalty to Daemon as her king.
In everything she did, she was just too perfect: the way she carried herself ever so gracefully, the way she talked, her choice of words… It felt somehow wrong, making Daemon feel uneasy around her. Of course, at such moments, he would remember that she was no human and the uneasy feeling would go away. Deep down, he knew it only made sense for her to be perfect after having spent many years with the Gods.
Others in Harrenhal were mesmerised by her beauty the moment they saw Lúthril for the very first time that day – Daemon could swear he had seen Simon Strong drooling. Many tried to question her about where she came from and who she really was but Lúthril had a way with words – before they even knew it, she would brush the questions under the table, changing the subject or offering her wisdom about something completely irrelevant.
Before supper, Simon Strong had ordered the servants to prepare a room for the Lady to use as her chambers. Daemon could only imagine how different it had to feel to finally have a bed after hundred years of imprisonment.
As he approached Caraxes, the memories of the conversation earlier haunted him once again that day. Lúthril’s knowledge of his darkest deeds unnerved him. She was not just an advisor. She was a force—one he could not yet comprehend. But whether she was his salvation or his undoing, only time would tell.
“You give me the feeling that you enjoy the presence of my dragon more than my own, my Lady.” Daemon said, causing Lúthril to raise her head to meet his gaze. Throughout the day, he had got used to addressing her as my Lady to make the riverlords believe that she was some lady from somewhere. “Have you ever seen one this close before?”
Lúthril nodded as she placed her right hand on Caraxes’ scales. To Daemon’s surprise, the dragon was actually allowing her to touch itself, to come near itself. Daemon had no information about the Valargon’s relationship to the dragons; however, the view in front of his eyes was enough to intrigue him.
“We lived in Valyria amongst the dragonlords for a long time,” she responded, “but long before Daenys the Dreamer had her visions about the Doom, our Seers told us that we had to move to Westros.”
“So you can speak High Valyrian,” Daemon swiftly switched to his mother-tongue, causing Lúthril to giggle as she walked towards him.
“Of course I can,” Lúthril responded in High Valyrian. “Back then, the wealthiest dragonlords of Valyria could also speak the language of my people.”
Daemon took a few moments before continuing the conversation – the way Lúthril spoke the language had him mesmerised. The way the words rolled off her tongue, how High Valyrian added even more grace to her (as if it was possible) made Daemon want to stay there and just listen to her speaking in the language of his ancestors for the rest of his life.
“What about the dragons? Why do they know you?” Daemon asked, trying to gather his thoughts on the present moment but it was hard not to drift away. “Your people were no dragonlords, yet Caraxes seems to recognise your blood somehow.”
“Do you know how Targaryens became dragonlords, Daemon?” Lúthril asked, switching to the common tongue. Her intense gaze was causing different emotions to rise within Daemon, which had been confusing him ever since he met her. He didn’t really know her and yet, he was feeling the strongest attraction he has ever experienced in his life. It was exhilarating and also unsettling.
Daemon followed her when she started walking. “Of course,” he said, trying to understand where she was headed with this question. “They used blood magic – even Targaryen babes know about this.”
Lúthril sent him a confident look as she slowed down her steps. “And who do you think taught them how to carry out the blood magic to bind the dragons to the descendants of Valyrian blood?” Upon seeing the change in Daemon’s expression, she laughed. “I believe you now know the answer.”
“So it was your people?” Daemon asked, he found it hard to believe that the Valargon had played such a huge part in shaping the Targaryen dynasty – by teaching them how to be dragonlords. “That made us kings?”
She shook her head, causing her long hair to sway. “No, we simply taught you how to bind the dragons – the rest, you have accomplished yourselves.” Taking a deep breath, she rested her forehead against Caraxes’ scales, her feet stopping. It was astonishing that Caraxes was allowing her to get that close to him and that Lúthril was not getting any burns since the scales of a dragon tended to get very hot, even steaming during cold nights. “We gave you dragonfire, which eventually became our death. Destiny works in funny ways.”
Standing behind her, Daemon kept still for a moment, trying to decide whether he should listen to the wicked whispers crowding his thoughts. His reason was screaming at its lungs, telling him it was wrong, flashing him memories with Rhaenyra to make him feel awful about himself. However, the yearning after Lúthril and the desire to touch her skin was way stronger, coming from his very essence. The moment he laid his eyes on her, he would forget about Rhaenyra in a heartbeat.
At that instant, all Daemon wanted was to have her.
Listening to the whispers, Daemon took a big step towards Lúthril, resting his hands on either sides of her head, which still leaned the warm scales of Caraxes. The dragon’s hard scales were warm against Daemon’s skin, still leaving his hands unburnt. Upon realising the movements around him, Caraxes raised his long neck in an uneasy manner; however, upon seeing Daemon, the dragon let itself rest again.
“How interesting that might be, it still doesn’t answer my question – why does Caraxes recognise you?” Daemon whispered in her ear in High Valyrian. The way Lúthril shivered when his warm breath reached her ear was visible to Daemon as well, causing the edge of his lips to curl upwards.
“It is not just Caraxes,” She responded in High Valyrian, still her back was facing Daemon. “All dragons recognise us – the Valargon blood has been known to them ever since the first hatchling flapped its wings. They can smell our magic and realise its similarity to theirs.”
With slow movements, Daemon raised his right hand for a brief moment to gather Lúthril’s hair on her right shoulder. Then, he leant in for his lips to be on a level with her ear. His warm breath licked her exposed neck, causing her to take a deep breath. “In that case, I am certain Caraxes would gladly let you fly with me.” Daemon’s words were lower than a whisper. “Have you ever ridden a dragon?”
Lúthril paused for a moment before speaking, Daemon wished he could know what she thought at that moment or how she felt; however, she had a strong grip on herself, trying to show Daemon as little as she could. Well, the Rogue Prince always welcomed a challenge – the harder it was to unravel her mysteries, the more satisfaction the prize at the end brought.
“Flown I have,” Lúthril switched to the common tongue as she slowly turned inside Daemon’s arms to face him. The small distance between their bodies felt like it could burn any moment with the tension heavy in the air. “But not on dragonback.”
Daemon raised an eyebrow at her, looking down to meet her gaze. She seemed to know how to play this game as well; however, her moments of hesitation were more visible to the naked eye than his. “I believe you have to provide me more details as to how it is possible to fly without a dragon.”
A smirk found its way to her lips as she pushed back a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes. “Daemon Targaryen, you do forget who I am often enough,” she spoke with a playful tone. “Why should it puzzle you that a being able to see your past, present and future can fly too?”
“I have never seen a person floating on their own in the sky,” Daemon responded with his quick wit, following the same playful tone Lúthril has set. He leaned in even further so that his lips were brushing against hers when he spoke, “have you?”
Even the brief touch of their lips in that single moment sent a shiver down her spine, Daemon had to try hard not to put on his victory smirk. He wanted to make her desperate for himself for he enjoyed this little game more than he could put into words.
He felt… alive after a long, long time.
Lúthril’s response took him by surprise. “It saddens me that your mind insists on restricting me to the fragile human body.”
“Ah,” Daemon spoke as he took a step back. “A shapeshifter, then.” It was a thought which has not occurred to him before; however, given everything the enchantress could do with her magic, shapeshifting was really not so surprising. “Which body does my Lady prefer for a pleasant flight?”
A giggle escaped her lips as she followed Daemon on his way to Caraxes’ saddle. “An eagle,” she responded, “a white eagle.”
[POV change]
You wrapped your hands tighter around Daemon’s waist as Caraxes flew through the night sky. Even though you had flown yourself, dragonback was a far different experience – far more thrilling and far more terrifying – even for someone like yourself.
In Valyria, conquering the skies amongst the dragons used to be one of your greatest pleasures in life – but that was another time, another life, when fire had not yet consumed your world, turning everyone you once held dear to ashes.
The wind tugged at your hair, the cold air biting against your skin and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel the warmth of Daemon’s body through the leather garments he carried. Strange, you thought. He had a fire burning within him, one that not even the flames of his dragon could match.
And yet, he did not know how easily he could be consumed by it.
Perhaps I myself, too, do not know how easily I can be consumed by it. The fire burning with the dragon.
For centuries, you had been untouchable, even in your imprisonment. Men, mortal or otherwise, held no sway over you. Yet, this one—Daemon Targaryen—made you question your restraint. His touch was a flame you didn’t wish to extinguish, though you knew it was dangerous to let it burn too brightly.
Your fingers, so accustomed to cold distance, now gripped him as though clinging to the last rays of the eternal light. Vulnerability, once alien, now crept beneath your skin like an uninvited guest, and you wondered how long you could allow yourself to burn.
Knowledge made it even more sweeter, the taste of the fruit. Knowing that the connection between you and Daemon had been woven into the very fabric of the time.
Is this why I find it impossible to walk away from him? you thought as you inhaled his scent, which somehow brought peace to your mind. Or is it something else?
Being close to him was becoming more intoxicating each time – you could not even recall the last time you had experienced such feelings towards another person, Valargon or human. It felt… exciting, in a different way. Despite knowing his past, present and future; Daemon was still a mysterious new book needed to be read – you had to let yourself get lost between its pages to taste its mysteries.
Desire was, indeed, quite hard to put a leash on.
“You have been quite,” Daemon spoke, breaking the silence. “Is everything alright?”
“I am simply enjoying the skies,” you responded with a content tone, “it is truly wonderous – exploring the night sky on dragonback.”
For a quick moment, Daemon looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze, his purple eyes shinning with joy. “I am glad you are enjoying yourself, my Lady.”
After a short pause, you spoke. “I do enjoy your presence, too, Daemon Targaryen.” A soft chuckle followed. “Not just your dragon’s.”
Daemon’s laugh sent shivers down your spine, you found it hard to believe how much you had grown you like that sound. It was utterly enchanting, leaving you wanting to crawl into his arms.
After dismounting Caraxes, you both stood next to each other, looking at the cursed castle of Harrenhal in silence. The night was still calm but the wind was getting colder and the full moon was slowly leaving its place to the waning crescent, its light reflecting from the diamonds on your dress.
Upon feeling his gaze on yourself, you turned your head to the left, Daemon’s purple eyes awaiting you. The flirtatious aura he normally had around himself was quite thin at that moment; all you could see in his eyes was… adoration. You couldn’t recall the last time someone looked at you that exact way.
“The diamonds on your dress,” Daemon spoke slowly as he raised his right hand. His fingers brushed against the diamonds adorning the neckline of your dress. “They make me feel like as if they have captured the light of the stars inside.”
A small smile formed on your lips. “You are not entirely wrong,” you responded, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “These diamonds were forged under the light of thousand stars, during the brightest night in the Land of the Gods.”
Daemon’s hand moved up to your shoulder, the ghost of his fingers trailing down your left arm over the fabric of your silver dress, giving you goosebumps. You took a deep breath. The effect of his touch on you was terrifying – your heart was on a race, breaths getting deeper, your body aching for more.
“So they did capture the light of the stars,” Daemon muttered as he gently held your hand. “Any less wouldn’t do your beauty any justice.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
The distance between your bodies seemed to get less and less, until you stopped yourself – you knew today was not the right time. Upon seeing the confused look in Daemon’s purple eyes, you placed your right hand on the side of his face, your left hand holding his right one.
“Not today,” you whispered, your lips slightly touching his as you spoke. “The stars move in their own time, Daemon. Let us not rush what’s already written.”
Standing on your fingertips, you left a kiss on his left cheek, a chuckle leaving Daemon’s lips. “You are a strange kind of woman,” he spoke as you stepped back.
With a smile on your lips, you turned around to head back to the castle. “Good night, Daemon.”
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ragingbookdragon · 1 year ago
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She feels the warmth flooding down the front of her gear as the frigidness seems to crawl up from her fingers and toes. Her breathing labors as the man pulls her inside the crumbling building under the veil of night and cradles her against his body, her back pressed against his chest. His fingers find their way underneath her vest, and she knows she should feel pain where his fingers press against, but all she feels is a numbness.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters.
“Ghost,” she whispers breathlessly. “I’m scar—I’m scared, Ghost.”
He shakes his head a single time. “You’re gonna be fine.”
“I don’t wanna die,” she says more to herself than to him, panic setting in. “God, I don’t wanna die now. I don’t wanna—”
“You’re not dying,” Ghost growls. “You’re gonna be fine.”
“Ghost—”
“You’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna fix this. I’ll fucking fix—”
“Simon,” she stresses, shifting enough to see his face from the corner of her eye. “I’m dying.”
He swallows thickly and gazes at her for a moment before the lump returns. “Fuck, I—I’m not ready.”
“Neither am I,” she smiles, blood staining her teeth, and leans back, her temple to his chin. “Will you…will you stay with me?”
Simon presses harder against her, cursing the tears that sting his eyes. “Yeah, love, I’ll stay.”
She settles then, flightiness stilling in her veins as she relaxes against him. “This isn’t how I imagined going.”
He doesn’t want to ask. Doesn’t want to hear all the fanciful bullshit she’s about to spew about how they grow old and gray, but Simon also knows he’d rather hear her voice all he can before he can never hear it again unless it’s through a speaker.
“How’d you imagine it?” he forces his throat to open.
Her smile is like the stars in the night sky. “Old. In bed together. In our sleep.” She shuffles a bit. “Our kids find us, cuddled close, safe.”
Simon grits his teeth, cracking them under the strain, his jaw aches. “How many kids?”
“Two boys. One girl. Simon Junior, we’d call him SJ. Jonathan Kyle, after Price, Soap, and Gaz.”
“And the girl?”
“Aphra Emeline.”
He nods. “Good name. Strong. Built for a fancy lady.”
“She’d run everyone over.”
“With your looks and my attitude?” he jokes. “Of course. She’d strike ‘em dead with one withering look.”
Her lungs are starting to fail her, and she shivers. “Simon, marry me.”
He can’t stop the tears this time and they drop down his cheeks onto her head. “Who’s gonna officiate?”
“Me. All power vested in me.” She sucks in a breath. “Do you take me as your lawfully wedded wife? To love, honor, and cherish, through sickness and health, until death do us part?”
“I do,” he promises. “And even after life, I will.”
“I take the same. I now pronounce us husband and wife.” She turns with the last bit of failing strength she has, pulls his mask down, and says, “Kiss me.”
Simon’s calloused hands are gentle as he cups her face, brushes his thumb over her cool skin and presses his lips to hers, tears mixing on each other’s faces as he kisses her with everything, he has in him. All the things Ghost is not, he gives in this moment to her. All his hopes, all his dreams, all his love for a better ending. He gives it up in this moment as he burns it into his mind that Simon Riley will never live after—only Ghost.
“I love you, Simon,” she whispers against his lips, and he shakes his head.
“I love you too,” he manages between hers. “I’ll stay,” he promises, pulling away to press his forehead to hers, staring at her. “I will stay.”
“I know,” she says. “I know you will.”
He memorizes the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, the feel of her skin beneath his hands, every detail he can about her, and it’s only when her head tilts forward, forehead bumping his lips that he knows.
Simon inhales and exhales one time, a single, agonizing howl.
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threepandas · 6 months ago
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Bad End: Kept Safe
[Art by Miu_A]
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You ever give someone advice, knowing full well they aren't going to take it? Even AFTER they have begged and pleaded and WHINED at you, for hours, for it? Even after they poured their heart and soul out to you? And you, a good friend, carefully and tactfully, tried your best to help? LIKE THEY ASKED?
Ever find yourself the designated "run too dramatically weep in the arms off" friend?
I have.
It is hell. I am in hell.
This is my punishment for all those hours I spent reading and playing Otome Isekai junk instead of, I don't know, solving world hunger or something. Because it HAS to be. I am clearly being punished. Repeatedly. By some sort of petty, petty, anime God.
Fuck you too, buddy.
A fresh round of highly dramatic Protagonist sobbing peirces the air. Dear lord, she has a set of lungs on her, does she? It's like an air siren. But more... upset toddler. It was bizarre. I'd LIKED her as a character. I HAD. Bright and cheerful, determined with a good heart. She'd been a bit naive, yes, but she'd grown. Love had changed her for the better.
But THIS?
This was some middle school "he threw away my secret note, that I didn't sign, so that means he HATES MEEEEE~" bullshit. It went on and on and ON! God, it'd been MONTHS! Years!
I made friends with the Protagonist when we were in The Royal Academy. The story's setting. It SHOULD have finished by graduation. SHOULD. HAVE. But DID it? No! This nonsense had spilled into the COURT! The general population! Actual political factions were starting to get involved!
All because my "friend" COULDN'T PICK A MAN.
And she didn't listen. I tried. God, how I TRIED! No matter HOW I phrased "just fucking TALK to them" it didn't get through her dense fucking skull. I tried taking a break. To calm down. She HUNTED ME DOWN with her little Harem of political trainwrecks!
That poor port city STILL has yet to recover from the chaos they unleashed.
I don't... God, I don't even LIKE her anymore. I've just been reduced to her HANDLER. Forced into girlish tea parties devoid of any taste, because no one ELSE will come. Followed by winces and pitying looks by every lady in all of polite society. The sacrifice to keep HER distracted, lest her gaurd dogs decide its a good idea to do something unhinged again.
It's exhausting.
I'm not even listening.
She seems to have worked through her usual cycle of "cry, mope, what about meeeee~, then I going to go be Plucky at them! Tee Hee~♡!". Good, good. You go have fun, you little train wreck. I'm going to go find an actual ADULT to hide behind.
I have my maids change me out of an outfit that, frankly? I am too old for. I am not sixteen. We are not GIRLS, for the heaven's sake. We are WOMEN. It was a cute outfit. I enjoyed wearing it, back when I was physically young enough that it was appropriate. But even THEN... that's the down side of the whole "isekai" thing.
You keep your mental age.
Everyone around you? INFANTS. Fresh faced babies. You are being flirted with by fourteen year olds and? It is DISGUSTING. They can never be anything more then "cute kids" to you. The characters you once thirsted over? Reduced to actual, living, breathing, pre-schoolers.
There's no going back after that. I'll NEVER unsee it. Can only continue to age, even as they simply... grow up. And then? When they started behaving like FOUR YEAR OLDS? Forget it! I'm beginning to share my parents fears I may die single.
At least I have a refuge. A place of SANITY and SENSE.
I grab the imported wine I had purchased. I'd noticed him drink it before on special occasions. Found a tea seller that was willing to also bring some back. Mother LOVED the tea and my friend was going to love the wine, I could just tell.
Cautiously poking my head out of the guest apartments i was staying in, I checked the hall. Left. Right. Left. Thank god. No Protagonist in sight, she hasn't come back yet. Better hurry though.
I walk fast and keep close to the wall. Ducking into alcoves at every new female voice. Passing servants, Nobles, and the occasional Knight either murmur what they know of Protagonist's last known location or politely pretend not to see me. For anyone else, this would be scandalous behavior. For ME? Well... everyone knew EXACTLY why I was being driven to such extremes.
I thankfully reached the governance wing unmolested. It was far quite and none of the pack of fools ever really set foot here. Not ever the ones who were SUPPOSED to be busy learning their future roles as leaders of this country. God, I could only hope the third prince somehow quietly pulls a coup.
Not that I'd SAY that.
The gaurds don't even bother to announce me, I'm here so often. Merely opening the door. I maintain my decorum none the less. JUST long enough for the doors to finally close and I am able to drop my social mask like whipping of my bra after a long day. Oh thank fuuuuuuck. FREEDOM!
A familiar chuckle, like incense smoke, wafts from the second floor of the office.
"Oh my~, so tired?" My friend muses, his voice that ever lilting purr. I hear him closing whatever heavy tome he's currently studying. "And so early in the DAY! Was it the little nuisance again? Surely she must have SOMETHING better to do?"
Gently putting the wine I'm gifting him on his desk, I then throw up my arms. You would THINK! Wouldn't you?! It's an old complaint. And frankly? I'm glad he still let's me vent about it. It HAS to get old. Yet? He let's me complain anyway.
I met the, roughly translated, "Keeper Of The Shield" at one of the Crown Prince's many ridiculous parties. I was dragged along as Protagonist's plus one. Because GOD FORBID she bring one of her suitors! That might lean towards CHOICE! Can't have THAT!
It was an overly dramatic, gaudy, slow motion trainwreck from beginning to end. I? Got very, VERY drunk. I knew I shouldn't. It was wildly inappropriate. But I was HORRIFIED. Hid near the balconies and drank to forget. Contemplating jumping.
Was likely the only one there my age NOT in ten layers of bows and fabric flowers. It was probably why Crevan decide to talk to me. That and the look of abject suffering. He informed that, sadly, the balconies were locked. But if I planned to maim my self to escape, he could probably boost me up enough to reach the upper windows.
I choked on my drink and guffawd like an idiot. It was SUPER flattering. Very pretty. And honestly? The best conversation I'd had in YEARS. He was droll. Witty. Snarky. In just as much hell as I was. We gleefully narrated the drama playing out before us in as cutting a manner as possible. Grown adults, government officals! Behaving like fucking CHILDREN.
Only after, did I learn I had been chatting with the equivalent of the minister of the Defense. THE commander of our nation's defensive forces. All of them. Knights, army, spies. All of it. And the poor man had been dragged from his desk to play party prop by a glorified teenager. I was horrified. Appalled. Fucking OUTRAGED to learn that it was just... normal!
This country was a nightmare! Otome games are HELL. Lacey, sparkly HELL!!!
But at least I had Crevan to keep me sane. He was always willing to listen. Advise when he could. We had HOPED that Protagonist would start maturing... I'd even mentioned it, but it just seemed like she back slid again and again! Trapping me. Isolating me! Ruining my chances to move ON and have a LIFE!
I don't know what went wrong! Is it me? Am I too hand holdy? It's starting to destabilize the country! Not that the royal family even seems to notice! God no, if it weren't for Crevan, the whole PLACE would have collapsed!
I flop down on my couch. Technically it's not "mine", but honestly? He's fooling no one. The man barely had ANY guest furniture before we became friends. It's totally my couch. (He even got a tea table for us, the softy.)
"Oh? A gift? How thoughtful, dear~" It's only months of friendship that keep from jumping these days. I should get that man a BELL. "Would you like some?"
I can't help but huff a laugh. He always looks to PLEASED when he gets the jump on someone. Startles them. A mischievous asshole, that one. Touchy, too. Forever cupping my cheek or earnestly taking my hand. Patting my head. Guiding me by the elbow or shoulder. He has so few friends... I am certain he is touch starved.
A thought occurs to him, as he pours two cups. A sly grin stretching across his face as he turns to offer me a cup. The wine's scent mixes, burning and delicate, with the ever present smells of incense and his favorite herbal cigarettes. Blurring the senses and relaxing. It's a pretty strong drink.
"You KNOW... it just occurs to me! Darling, if you want to avoid that pest? Why not spend the day HERE? I'd love to have you. " his voice becomes low and serious for a moment, almost catching me off gaurd, bouncing back before I can really think about it. "You could trash my shelves again! Camp out on my couches! It'll be like a little party~ Just you and me! Not a care in the world. You won't have to worry a single thing~"
He grins, glasses catching the light, toothy like the old scheming fox he is.
"I'll keep you nice and safe~"
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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year ago
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Welcome To Our Family (Daemon x Reader)
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Hey everyone, so as I mentioned before I wanted to write a throuple thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon although even on this request there was some drama involved but it was interesting to write nonetheless. Also I don’t know why but this song inspired me the most especially the part “where you go I go, what you see I see” that was the vibe I was trying to pass for our reader with daemon
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Most would say that the war in the stepstones had no place for love to blossom, the reeking stench of death had overtaken and most men had no life in their eyes, the majority prayed in gratitude that they were alive while others cursed the gods for keeping them on this forsaken realm when their friend of even their kin had been killed.
That did not even grace Daemon, who was lucky enough to spend every night in the arms of his beloved (y/n), the sister of one of his soldiers that had been wounded, (y/n) had marched in and demanded that her brother will come home.
“I will be damned if I allow you to give more than an arm for this, you are coming with me”
Her brother had obeyed her, she was as fragile as a rose but her thorns stung more than anything, right then and then Daemon had become a mere slave to his emotions, something that had never occurred before.
“I wish I could stay in your arms forever”
“That would be a dream, my love, however, we are counting the days until you depart, your wife probably awaits you”
Daemon was deeply offended by the jab his lover had thrown at him, slowly he rose up and away from her arm reach to look her straight in the eyes, the fireplace burned bright and the light shined against her glistening skin.
“You are questioning my feelings for you”
“I am questioning how strong they are, you are a prince, a husband, your life seems to hold no room for me”
“Is that how you think of this? That I just wanted to bed you?”
“Do you truly wish for me to answer that?”
Silence took over them while the only sound came from the crackles of the fire, Daemon was aware of how badly this could look, she was a commoner, a mere lady, and the realm would never accept her even if Daemon had not wed another.
“You and our daughter mean everything to me”
“But nothing to the king, he will ask for my head once he finds out I am carrying your child”
“I would never put your lives at risk”
“How do you plan on keeping us safe my love?”
“Do not worry about that, I will take care of everything”
(Y/n)s belly was starting to show, it wouldn’t take long for the king and his little whisperers to demand answers, the easy route was to declare his kin a bastard but Daemon was flying on cloud nine when (y/n) announced that she was with child, no he must do right by her.
He flew with her to Pentos, far away from Viserys and people that cared most about titles and crowns than love and compassion.
“Twins, my prince, two sons, praise the mother”
“What about (y/n)”
“The lady is a warrior, she is tired but healthy”
Daemon did not speak another word to the maester, he simply passed by him and into the room to find his beloved laying in bed, a faint smile on her face as she held one of her children while the other was being held by a midwife.
“You owe me 3 dragon coins”
“It is a bet I will happily pay, how are you feeling?”
“Sore and gross but happy, why don’t you hold him?”
“I-“
“Come on love it is merely a babe, like… so”
Slowly (y/n) passed one of her sons to her lover, instructing him to hold it carefully but securely, then she reached for the midwife so she can have her other son in her arms, both of the babes were quiet in their parent's arms.
“What should we name them?”
“I was thinking of Orryn, and mayhaps… Baelon?”
“Baelon and Orryn, the two princes”
Daemon and (y/n) had grown inseparable much to his brother's dislike Daemon had scoffed at his previous marriage and took his place next to his most endearing (y/n) that had blessed him with not just two children, but with passion, and comfort, she created a home for him, without her there was no warmth, no color.
Viserys was only finding out the milestones his brother was achieving with his mistress via ravens that Daemon dared to send, the birth of his sons had scratched a wound in Viserys that was not quite healed yet, so naturally when Rhea had passed due to fever, Daemon had even dared to invite Viserys to his wedding that took place in Pentos.
(Y/n) had just given birth to another set of siblings, Alyssa and Arren, two silver-haired princesses that slept peacefully through the night and would only stay quiet if (y/n) or Daemon held them, (y/n)s parents and brother had traveled to Pentos to finally meet the children and also attend the wedding.
“You look dashing sweetling, I see the prince has taken good care of you”
“How could I not? What is more important than the happiness of my lady wife?”
“We must admit we had conflicting thoughts over you my prince, I am happy that you proved us wrong”
“I do not hold it against you, she is your daughter you want what is best for her, also you were not the only one, (y/n) was also very skeptical over my intentions”
“I had every reason to do so”
“I have made peace with the fact that you will never admit you were wrong my love, you do not have to find excuses for it”
Daemon and (y/n) were wed in Valyrian traditions, something that infuriated Viserys, how dare he wed a commoner with the sacred paths of old Valyria, it was distasteful and utterly disrespectful, Viserys had only sent a one-sentence raven scroll back
“You disgust me, never come back”
Daemon had only rolled his eyes at it and threw it in the fire, he couldn’t care less about Kings Landing, they could eat each other for all he cared, (y/n) and their children were all that mattered ever since he met with the beautiful hues of hers, he treasured everything about her and worshipped the ground she walked on, he would always hold her close and shower her with gifts.
“We received a raven, I have taken the liberty to open it”
“What is it?”
“Laenor Velaryon has passed, and your niece is requesting our presence, well yours to be specific, she said “I need you, uncle”
“You are jealous, I have never seen you get jealous”
“Is this the one you told me about, that “spur of the moment” girl?”
“Indeed, we do not have to go, besides, my brother banished me”
“No, it is the first time our presence is requested”
“My dear, you are with child and the flight is long”
“I will be fine, I know it”
Daemon was certain he could not sway her, once something was on her mind there was nothing that could turn it around, he was also aware that the reason she was so adamant was a side of hers that felt threatened, there was a ghost of his past that was requesting attention and (y/n) was not willing to walk away from this without putting up a fair fight.
At a day (y/n) and her 8 children stood next to her and her husband all dressed in black, everyone rubbed their eyes at the sight of such numerous children, (y/n) always knew she was meant to be a mother and that fact that she had Daemon as her husband made it so much easier.
Until it didn’t, they were summoned by the king after the ceremony, (y/n) felt her stomach drop as soon as she walked in the room, instinctively her one hand went over her growing belly, yet she mastered the strength to place a smile and curtsy before the king.
“What is the meaning of this brother?”
“I was hoping we could agree to some sort”
“Over what?”
“I wish for you to come back, I… will legitimize your children and wife as she has proven worthy, bringing forward 8 children with another on the way is no easy task”
“The gods have been generous to us that is correct, we are grateful for this offer but forgive me to ask, since you mentioned an agreement it seems you want something in return”
“Correct, there is no smooth way to say this but as a parent, I hope you understand that I would do anything to protect my daughter”
“No”
“Daemon”
“If you are asking us to wed Rhaenyra then you have lost your mind, I will not involve my wife and children in your scandals”
“Pardon my husband, I think you can understand the reason behind his outburst”
Daemon was left confused over (y/n)s composure that attempted to cover for his utter refusal to hide his brother's plans, he turned to observe his wife, she was calm, and her hand went to find his as their fingers intertwined (y/n) gave him a slight squeeze of comfort.
“The legitimacy of our children and our marriage is something that we are interested in, however, you can see why we might have some objections over accepting Rhaenyra in our marriage”
“You are trying to negotiate?”
“Yes”
“What else would you like to accept, please speak freely”
“I want my children to be given dragon eggs as well as meet any unclaimed dragons, they are Targaryens, they should have the pick of their dragons as well”
“Done”
“I shall also be considered Rhaenyras wife, if we were to wed I shall have the same rights as my husband”
“You are suggesting the realm accept you as the future queen's consort?”
“As you mentioned I brought forward 8 children and another on the way, the crown shall accept them as future princes and princesses, if not then there is nothing for us here”
Daemon chose to observe his lady wife than speak up, she took initiative and strived for the best option, something he admired in her but he had never really witnessed how far she was willing to go to secure the future of her family, now she was sacrificing a spot in their marriage for a seat at the table, Viserys had been outsmarted by what he used to frown upon.
“Very well, we accept your conditions”
“Well then… welcome to our family Princess Rhaenyra”
-
(Y/n) and Daemon wed Rhaenyra as they had once done while their children and the rest of their family watched, Rhaenyra had underestimated the lady, (y/n) and might not be as assertive or rebellious as Daemon but her wits and calculated movements showed a woman that walked with her head held high and every step was thought after.
The days turned to seasons and then years, everyone was holding their breaths as they took a front-row seat to one of the most important marriages and alliances within the Targaryen Dynasty.
(Y/n) was held in the best light by the small folk, “the realms mother”, and “the Alyssane reborn” as her fertility kept thriving, blessing Daemon with another set of twins soon after Rhaenyra was wed, the two beautiful baby girls were named Megaera and Valera, the first of their family to receive dragon eggs on their cradles a gift by Rhaenyra who picked them herself then came Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya, overall (y/n) had the castle of Dragonstone filled with children, 13 to be precise.
Rhaenyra was painfully aware of how those babies came to fruition, Daemon's thirst for his wife was evident and he did not even consider giving Rhaenyra the courtesy of hiding, Rhaenyra had lost count of the times she had walked in on (y/n), and Daemon lusting after one another at all hours of the day and any room that was close to them, she sometimes wondered if the legends of Rhaenys being the favorite wife of Aegon made Visenya go through what Rhaenyra was also experiencing, is that mayhaps the reason behind Rhaenyra identifying with the warrior queen?
As (y/n) and Daemon stood by Rhaenyra at court, defending her and consulting her on important matters, painting the picture of a happy marriage with two spouses that supported her revolutionary claim, the realm expected Rhaenyra to bare a child as well, (y/n) was producing heirs one after the other, Rhaenyras womb laid empty since Daemon did not spend not even one night in her chambers.
It was the first time in years that the three of them had stepped foot in kings landing, Vaemond had called the court to usurp Lucerys from his claim at the driftwood throne, naturally, all 13 of their children were present along with the three boys from Rhaenyras previous marriage, (y/n) insisted that it would show how United they are and having that strong of a number on their side would scare off any other accusations.
A solid plan, until Ser Vaemond decided to protest against the king affirming young Lucerys as the successor for the driftwood throne.
“You run your house as you see fit, but I would rather die than let that boy take over my family’s name, parading around because you are too blind to see the truth”
“You dare question the decision of a king?”
“Look at them, all thirteen of them hold the characteristics of old Valyrian, true born heirs that I would happily accept as mine even though they came from a womb of a commoner, and you ask me to accept these three boys as Velaryons? It is blasphemy”
“You are certainly bold Ser Vaemond, you have the nerve to call me a commoner when I hold the future queen and the brother of the king as my spouses, my children are not thirteen, but sixteen, and all of them hold their names with pride, it saddens my heart to see that the thirst for recognition has turned you to this low of antics”
“Her children are BASTARDS! and she. Is. A. Whore”
“Pity, you had such great potential”
As (y/n) finished her sentence Daemon had taken the liberty to end Ser Vaemonds life, a clean cut through his head right above his tongue with the great sword dark sister, causing most people to gasp while (y/n) smirked and watched the body fall on the well-polished floor.
“No one disrespects our family”
“Disarm him!”
“No need, my love”
Daemon stretched his hand to his beloved (y/n) who only turned to pinch Lucerys cheek before she took her husband's hand to walk away, only to halt and turn around again, looking back to the rest of her family members.
“Rhaenyra”
Rhaenyra was grateful for (y/n)s graciousness, there was nothing that she could hold against her, she was loving and caring to her three boys, she would listen to Rhaenyra about any concerns for hours and even now she defended and included her in front of everyone.
She should be satisfied with such, still a thorn stuck in her heart and pride making Rhaenyra feel second best when it came to Daemon's heart, it has always been (y/n), (y/n) carried his offspring’s, he gave up everything for her, took her away and gave her a life full of gifts and love, the finest of any kind was reserved for (y/n).
“Pardon my intrusion, the princess is requesting Prince Daemon in her chamber”
“It is late, can it not wait?”
“Sweetling, the poor girl cannot know, go to her, I will be waiting for you”
“Fine, take your nightgown off for me, I want us to get straight to it when I get back”
Daemon whispered deviously before he planted a passionate kiss on the lips he most adored, reluctantly pulled away with an audible gruff and followed the servant girl silently, wondering what was so important that he had to leave his precious bed and his lustful wife right in the heat of the moment.
Rhaenyra paced back and forth with impatience written all over her demeanor and face, Daemon always had an influence over her, making her feel like a little girl again, though this was a different type of anxiety, once Daemon entered the room and the servant gave them their privacy Rhaenyra took a deep inhale through the nose to ease her nerves.
“I hoped to confront you over our marriage”
“What of it?”
“Do you truly think everything is fine or are you just blind?”
“I and my wife have honored our vows”
“That is the problem, you and your wife, it has never been just your vows”
“When you wed us you were to understand your place when it came to me and (y/n), I never used her as a surprise, you called for our aid and we generously offered it”
He was right, Rhaenyra had never been blindsided by them, (y/n) was a staple of their marriage, (y/n)s strive for the legitimacy of her children was the only reason Daemon allowed their wedding to happen, (y/n) had drank for Rhaenyras cup just as daemon had, binding their hands together and swore loyalty and devotion to their future queen.
As a woman Rhaenyra felt cast aside, this marriage was an insult to her pride, and having to bare through a birth of a child one after the other with a smile on her face was a twist of a knife in her wound, while her womb lay empty.
“You refuse to spend time with me, alone, you only show up with your children-“
“Our children, (y/n) and I call your sons our sons”
“At court yes”
“Are you questioning our actions? I did not have you to be as dim-witted as you seem right now, (y/n) called Lucerys her trueborn son in front of everyone, I took a man’s head for insulting you and our house and yet you stand before me and claim it is not enough for your liking?”
“I stand here to remind you that we have yet to produce a child, you can kill as many men as you wish, and (y/n) can scream it at the top of her lungs but that does not change that everyone sees her parading her belly and call her the realms mother while my womb rottenness under this wedlock”
“Rotten? Alright then, let us entertain this and say you bare my child, a silver-haired beauty that the realm will welcome, has it crossed that brilliant mind of yours that this will be more of a scandal for your three boys?”
“My sons are Targaryens”
“No doubt about it, but certainly they do not look like the part, in comparison to their brothers and sisters they look more like (y/n) than you”
“You are not refusing to lay with me to hush the rumors, you simply do not have the urge for it, I remember a time that you did, mayhaps it was the image of a gullible girl that kept you going”
“Listen and listen well, wife, (y/n) is my eternal love, the woman that took me in her arms and showed me life, you are my blood, I protected you, I defended you, I offered you sanctuary just so you can once again have something to complain about, well that is it, if you dare to summon me again for such idiotic matters I will grab my brother by the neck and force him to annul the marriage do you understand?”
Daemon was furious, as he spoke he started taking steps towards her, to the point that her back found the wall and Daemon was inches away from her face, hissing out the threat of annulment like a snake that released poison to its prey.
Rhaenyra had never experienced such hostility from Daemon, to say she was shocked was an understatement as her eyes frantically tried to find focus on his, daemons eyes were filled with fury, Rhaenyra had crossed the line in his mind, (y/n) had been kind and honorable to the princess, doing her duty like a proper lady wife and Rhaenyra scoffed at her, at his (y/n).
“Alright”
“Wonderful, now you must excuse me, I have some urgent matters that need my attention”
Requests are open!
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simpingland · 2 years ago
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Love is patient.//Aegon Targaryen II x wife!reader.
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Moments before the coronation, Aegon's wife recalls her first memories with the Prince. Patience was key on this journey to make things right. And this patience let love to grow easily between them.
A/N: angst, Diane's assault does not happen here because It's the only way I can write this. TGC is the loveliest person ever, im(r)o.
❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥
The first time you saw Aegon drunk was the first time you met him. And you knew from the start that the journey you were being forced into would not be an easy one. The prince was a little older, but a single word came out of his mouth, and you were the one who felt mature. The glory of the Targaryens, with their distinctive faces, their airs of divinity, did not show in any of Aegon's features. His mother scolded him for cutting his own hair on the very day your chariot pulled into the Red Keep. He gave you an awkward kiss on the hand and talked more to his brother Aemond than he did to you during the entire presentation dinner. The night was a disaster. You almost fell asleep in your own seat, with not a single charitable soul to speak to you.
"It's your duty," your father had told you over and over again. "You have a good chance of being queen."
"You don't need to scare her," your mother corrected him. She took your hand for the last time and said the words that were always echoing in your head. "He is a difficult man, and I understand that. But love can be many things, my dear. This love may be patience. Be patient and patient to welcome the good things with joy and to know how to overcome the bad things with peace of mind. Just...be patient."
Very few lords attended the wedding, and not even Rhaenyra and her family came to the ceremony. And you were glad to think that few were those who saw the humiliation of not receiving a single kiss from your now husband. When it was all over and the feast began, the music filled the room with joy, with Aemond and Helaena dancing, while your siblings found different partners to share the song. And all you had was Aegon beside you, who wouldn't let go of his cup for a second. From the corner of your eye, you could see that this drunkenness was unlike any you had seen before. He was faded, his eyes clear and glittering with sadness.
"Aegon," King Viserys trudged over to your seats, and you alone rose to pay him a courtesy. "Why don't you take your beautiful bride out dancing? By the gods, you'll bore her to death sitting here!"
You wanted to say you didn't have to, but contradicting the king was very wrong of you, and lying to yourself was also a bad habit. You really did want to dance, and you really did begin to die of boredom. When you looked at your groom, you saw him turn to look at you, his eyes still half closed, heavy with alcohol. Still, he stood up and offered you a hand. Your walk to the centre was full of applause.
"I warn you, I am not in my best powers of coordination, my lady," he warned you himself in a whisper.
"I hadn't noticed, my lord," you gave him a half smile, his hand dropping quite a bit into yours.
When the music began, the song was perhaps too lively for what you would have wished, and certainly for what Aegon would have wished as well. His steps were clumsy, and the rhythm of the music was too lively for what you might have wished. His steps were clumsy, and the pace was beginning to make him dizzy. He stepped over a few lords, and when he had to approach you, he would push you back by accident. Already bordering on embarrassment, you could see your parents blushing and looking at the scene with concern. And you could also see Alicent and Otto look at Aegon angrily. The old king looked confused.
"I can stop this," you whispered to him when you had him close.
"No," he replied. "I'm being a good husband."
Then he danced on. And soon what he was waiting for happened, Aegon fell to the ground. Everyone held back an exclamation, some of them hiding their laughter very badly. The prince was slumped on the floor, and before long he was vomiting up what was only wine. The sight was pitiful. One of your sisters approached you, as Ser Criston and Alicent approached Aegon. And when your sister tugged you away from the pool of wine, you broke free, moving closer to the prince who stirred slowly on the floor.
"My dear, you'll stain your dress," Alicent said.
"Let me help, Your Majesty." You replied.
With a handkerchief borrowed kindly from a nearby lord, you wiped Aegon's face and let him lean on you to slowly rise. His hands rested on your shoulders and yours on his arms. His face was red, and he seemed to regain some sense of shame.
"I think you should rest for a while," you said. He nodded.
And then Criston took over, putting the Prince's arm over his shoulder and leading him out of the room. Alicent walked behind, and as they walked away you could see Aegon turn his face to look at you. With a last glance at your family, you followed the Queen's path, straight to your husband's chambers.
"I asked only one thing of you, Aegon, just one," Alicent was saying to him on the way. She seemed to hold back quite a bit in your presence.
Criston left him sitting on the bed, and Aegon tried not to fall into it as his mother spoke to him.
"Tomorrow we will talk further." And then he turned to look at you. "I'm so sorry about this, love. I will tell the guests the bedding will be private."
"Oh, thank you, Your Majesty."
When Criston and Alicent left, they expected you to follow them as well, but you stood in the room.
"Have you not been shown to your rooms yet?" Alicent asked, quizzical.
"Yes, yes, I've located them... but I'd like to stay here a while longer. It's our wedding night, isn't it?" You sounded totally nervous but determined.
Alicent could only nod and force a smile before leaving with her knight. As the doors closed, you could hear Aegon finally collapse onto the bed.
"I wish to give you no offence... and the gods know I am the most willing man to do our duty that you will ever meet," Aegon said, and it was the sort of compliment you should learn to accept. "But tonight, I do not think I have the strength to achieve our goal," he said.
"I was not here for it, so I will take no offence."
Aegon turned his head to look at you, and he seemed much more alive than before.
"That's a pretty dress," he reached out to brush the fabric of the gown. "I'm sorry you got it stained with...my vomit."
"Don't worry, my prince. I could never wear it again."
You heard a laugh from him, which even startled you. But it was tender and unexpected, and it made you proud. Aegon repositioned himself better to give you a place on the bed and tapped his side, asking you to lie down beside him. Before you did, you picked up a tray of fruit and filled a glass of water. And before you lay down, you offered Aegon the water.
"The Maesters say that alcohol should be compensated with water." You watched as Aegon sat up so he could drink his glass without choking. And though he hesitated at first, he ended up drinking it whole and with need.
"I did not remember the taste of water..." he put the glass back in your hand. "And it's a disappointing taste."
When you finally lay down beside him, Aegon enjoyed the fruit on the tray, offering you some grapes.
"Is it always going to be like this?" You asked. He stopped chewing to look at you. "This humiliation. Are you going to be drunk every day of our lives?"
At your hurt tone, Aegon did not know what to answer, but he sounded remorseful, trying to compose an apology or some excuse. He swallowed his food before speaking.
"I have never had reason to be sober, my lady. No one has given them to me."
"Is your mother not worth it? Is your father not worth being proud of you?"
"What my father wants of me is very different from what my mother wants of me. I will never do well in their eyes."
"And at what point is it a much better option to wander around the castle blind with alcohol?"
"It's the only thing that makes me forget how useless I really am."
You couldn't help but run your hand over his face, trying to get him to look at you. His eyes were shining again, but they seemed much more alive than in the room.
"We all have our duty to do. And not all of us are good at it, but we all try."
"You seem like a person suited to this kind of life."
"I'm responsible. I like to think I am, at least. But don't you dare think that I don't wish I was somewhere else right now, with my horse and music nearby. I don't like to pour water to drunk men or stain my clothes with their vomits. But I do it because, somehow, It's now my duty. I will fulfil it for my family's name's sake. I would like to start a family and I will need your help to protect it. Just as you are going to need mine. It is what I believe is right."
You watched as Aegon nodded. He stroked your hand on his face and got out of bed to rummage through his wardrobe. You watched as he stumbled over his own mess but managed to pull out a long white shirt. He left it on the bed for you.
"This will do, so you can change into something clean." He stood expectantly.
"I already have clothes to change into in my rooms," you turned him down, but with a coy smile.
"Oh... all right," he looked disappointed. He looked sweeter than you had ever seen him, still dressed in his groom's robes. His suit was blue and gold, like his dragon Sunfyre. He went to pick up the shirt when you changed your mind, placing his hand on top of it, preventing him from pulling it away.
"Although...I don't trust my sense of direction around the castle in this darkness. Do you mind if I stay?"
"No..." You saw a soft smile appear on his lips. "Not at all... you are already my wife."
You changed in a dark corner of the room, and though Aegon said he would not spy on you, you caught a glimpse of him slyly rolling his eyes, trying to make out your figure in the gloom. The shirt made you look rather unattractive, in your opinion, but the loose hair and lack of tight fabrics made you feel so comfortable that you forgot all about your appearance. Aegon also shed the tight jacket and breeches and was left in a camisole similar to your own.
"Thank you for lifting me up in the hall..." he said after you had mocked the dreadful attire you had witnessed throughout the day. "It's not the first time I've fallen down. But it is the first time someone has helped me as tenderly as you have helped me."
"Don't worry about it."
"I'm sorry I humiliated you."
"I don't want your apology. I want you to promise me that you will try to change."
"And how can I change?" He sounded surrendered.
"With patience."
"I'm not patient, I'm afraid."
"Well, I am... I'll share some with you."
"Oh no... you're going to make an annoying wife, aren't you?" He joked, making you laugh. "You're going to ask me out dancing a lot. And I'm going to have to greet a lot of gentlemen and lie about how pretty their wives are..."
In the comfort of shirts and bed, a few hours passed as exhaustion begged you to sleep, not yet having consumed the marriage. You granted him a kiss on the lips. They were the taste of one and figs. After that night, it took you a long time to even set foot in your room.
The days passed more quietly, with Aegon showing you his favourite parts of King's Landing, trying to avoid the whorehouse, though you knew he had visited it a hundred times. You never reproached him, for since you were married, he had hardly left your side. In fact, he was the annoying husband. He asked you a thousand times to fly over Sunfyre. The only thing you insisted on was that he should not refill his wine glass during lunches and dinners. It was as simple as holding his hand fondly as he approached the decanter. The next day, you noticed that the lack of hangover manifested itself in long expeditions to which you went half-dragging. Soon, you understood what Aegon meant by his father's wishes and his mother's. Viserys enjoyed Aegon's Aegon. Viserys enjoyed the more talkative, joker, and absent side of him, the one who was a good spare heir behind Rhaenyra and her children. He barely paid him any mind, always reminiscing about his eldest daughter and his late wife. Then there was Alicent, and close behind her was Otto. The Hightower wanted in Aegon the malice that could reside in him, the malice that wanted more than to be a prince. They compared him incessantly to Rhaenyra and to Aemond, who was younger than he was, and therefore even more humiliating.
On nights when you returned from those uncomfortable dinners, Aegon would become extremely nervous, and you could not stop him from asking for a large flagon of wine. Your words did him no good, but you remembered your mother's advice. You had to welcome bad things with patience. And you watched him drink in front of the fire and asked a guard to watch him when he moved drunkenly around the castle. The next day, you helped him freshen up with a bath and get rid of the horrible headache.
On one of the nights when it happened again, you went to extreme measures before he ordered his alcohol.
"Perhaps a walk with Sunfyre will clear our heads, Aegon."
"'Our'?" He looked at you quizzically.
When you nodded, his face changed completely, and in the dead of night, he asked for his dragon to be prepared for a ride. Aegon was so pleased that he barely noticed that you were terrified. And you didn't say anything, of course, you liked seeing him so happy. Sunfyre was beautiful and quite a good boy, but that didn't take away your terror at the heights he could reach.
"Come on, wife, the tingling in the stomach is what makes it fun."
"I disagree."
As he laughed at you, he put your hands around his chest. He was quite a fit man, and over the past days and flirting, you found yourself more and more wanting to touch him and hold him close to you. Perhaps the dragon was a good idea, after all. Sunfyre led you to Kingswood, a place you mentioned you had never seen. And the whole flight was spent in places whose names Aegon made up to distract you, surprising you with the absurdity of the game. There was the odd surprise pirouette that he couldn't avoid, making you scream and squeeze him. But all in all, it was quite fun.
It was in the forest where you wandered, talking about unimportant things that kept your mind off all the crowns and iron chairs. It was that night when you consummated the marriage. You gave him the kiss that set it all on fire, the deepest kiss you had ever given each other. And he continued it with even more passion, clearly the more experienced of the two. He undresses you right there, and you undressed him as well. In the soft grass, only the moon could see you become one at last. You awoke at dawn and returned to the Red Keep with red faces and dishevelled hair.
"You're glowing," he whispered to you before he had to leave you to attend a meeting, pulling away your hair to give you a kiss on the neck.
All those memories flashed through your mind as Aegon leaned against the carriage window, on his way to be crowned King, his sister unbeknownst to their treason, his father recently dead, and war knocking at the door. They had dressed you too, and the thought of being queen made your stomach churn more than it already did.
"I'm afraid," Aegon suddenly confessed to you. "I'm not going to be good for this."
"I'm afraid too..." You took his hand. "We have to be smart, Aegon. We must protect ourselves."
"You should run while you can. I can order Ser Arryk to send you away... until all is safe again."
"No!" The thought horrified you. "I can't abandon you. We need you."
You brought your hand to your belly. You watched as Aegon's eyes widened with surprise.
"Gods..." he knelt before you, his head close to your knees, the din of the city seemed to hush inside the carriage. The light through the windows rattled on your skin, and the scene seemed like something out of Aegon's imagination.
"We must flee."
"It is too late now." Tears were falling, and your husband wiped them away, overwhelmed. "They won't let us scape this, you know that."
The carriage finally stopped, and Aegon had to bolt the door, which would only hold the guards for a second.
"Then, wife, I will do my true duty to protect our family. But as you said that day, I need your help...it is what I believe is right. Let us have hope. Never before I have felt this love for anything. Never before has anyone ever shown me as much love as you. I'll do everything in my hand to keep us safe. The only thing that matters to me is you and everything that involves you. My only friend is you."
Trying to regain your normal breathing, wiping your cheeks, you nodded as Aegon gave you a kiss on the forehead, another very soft, slow kiss on the cheek, which you couldn't help but drop your face to his touch and essence, and a kiss on the lips. Before removing the latch, he gave you a last kiss on your belly, making you giggle.
A look of complicity and a final sigh to enjoy a moment of peace before your heads held the crowns.
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eatmangoesnekkid · 6 months ago
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Ladies, if you are being penetrated by him, he must know himself as a God. Even if your lover (no matter the gender) does not say those words or refer to themselves as such, you will be able to sense it in their daily actions. When I speak about masculine energy, that God energy, I'm not speaking about the performance like how a person's postures themselves or their overall banter. When I speak about masculine energy, I am speaking about tactile external structures like what are your lover's main focuses in life? How does your lover treat their body? Is your lover on social media all the time? What is their attention focused on? How does your lover manage resources including their money and "free time" like are they only playing video games, watching TV or sitting around in other ways when not working? I think of someone like Nipsey Hussle, who practiced semen retention, an archetype of human power who didn’t just carry masculine bravado, but organized and directed energy into a practice that procured success, those masters of our time who lived in more elevated ways. Other masculine archetypes I connect to are David Goggins, Joe Dispenza, Bruce Lee, Sun Ra, and many female and male athletes like Angel Reese and Deion Sanders. Too many woman have dead men/masculine energy hanging around their root, which means that they have very weak masculine energy entering their bodies and lives. Weak masculine energy makes you broke and tired because it makes no space for your actual feminine energy to shine and thrive. Weak masculine energy negatively affects your physical structure and taxes you financially and emotionally, like the lack of confidence or willpower you will have to move through discomfort or hard times. You must find ways to exalt the masculine energy within you if you want to excel in the this 3D energy. It is masculine energy that helps you to not only say the thing, but the become the thing. It is this energy that makes you completely comfortable with being the villian in another person’s story and not need to please everyone. This was one of my biggest coming-into-maturity lessons of all time. Goddess energy is lovely, the subtle and internal are deeply essential, but they are only truthful when God energy has been integrated. How can you raise the God in you? This is one major reason that I have been weightlifting nearly every week over the last 20 years. Even when I travel, I also grace the local gym as part of my traveling adventure. It’s the God in me that allowed me to confidently workout at Lee Haney’s gym on Ponce de Leon in Atlanta back in the day in the part of the weightlifting area where mostly big burly muscular men went as they stared at my ass while I squatted. It was a little icky and annoying at times but it was that God in me that mandated me to not tiptoe around or shrink like a little girl and only leave this area of the gym when I was done with what I came to do. Getting stronger not only helped my mental health and made me more confident, it is helped to dissolve a lot of the recurring low-grade depressive energy that was often part of my life. Strengthening my belly, my solar plexus, my sense of self, has been my discipline, one way I exalt the God, H.I.M., the masculine, within me. I never consciously realized that I tend to go into a gym feeling like a God until this morning--like "I can do this; I'm ready,” especially mustering this energy up on days when I don't really want to go, when going to the gym feels hard. Ultimately you can only attract God when you know yourself as a God, not intellectually because you read the Bible (many people who only read the Bible all the time stay broke and broken), but the God living in your own body and treat yourself accordingly. You can’t receive what you haven’t given to yourself. It's simple math. 1+1=2. -India Ame'ye, Author
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crepesuzette2023 · 20 days ago
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Before I forget: Paul live in Paris, Dec 4, 2024
At some point, there was real life and having to take care of 1001 things in order to come here, but I can't remember. The Stadium is enormous, the view clear, the sound sublime. As the venue fills, a DJ creates a set of deep cuts and remixes from Paul, Beatles, & Wings that paints a broad but incomplete mural of the man's music. On the screens, an endless building scrolls past: a castle or a tower, inhabited by all these friends and lovers—only to culminate in the birthing of two Höfner basses from—flowerbuds? Star nurseries? I don't remember. Anyway, it's appropriately lusty Gemini symbolism. Earlier, my seat neighbor @i-am-the-oyster spots an angry skull in the QR code innocently leading to Sir Paul's website. Also with us are @packyourromanticmind, @s-l-martin a little further away, @crumblingcookies down on the floor, and next to me Mr. Suzette.
Can't Buy Me Love. We're underway. It's over almost before it begins. More more more. • Junior's Farm. My God, that figure down there is really him. These delicate wrists, bright white shirt, but also — these hands on the strings? Above all, a musician. • Letting Go. Red Lights, throbbing beat, sleazy bassline thrumming. I bet this is a personal favorite of his. • Drive My Car. The thrill of singing Beep Beep M Beep Beep Yeah in sync with thousands. • Got to Get You Into My Life. Damn, his voice his soaring. • Come On to Me. What? My fiction brain supplies so many "everyone comes on Paul, and Paul returns the favor"-scenarios. • Let Me Roll It. The first taste of actual ecstasy. Paul switches to guitar. Too far below me, a sea of people is swaying and singing. He gave me loving in the palm of my hand.
Getting Better. How dare he jump from the churning vortex of Let Me Roll It into the happy, skipping optimism of...this? Of course it works, and he sings it well. • My loudest scream of the night goes to Brother Michael in Let 'Em In. This one feels like a sibling of Getting Better—that relentless, easy rhythm, stripped of Lennon's edge. • My Valentine. Elle est ici. This one's for you, Nance. Dark, old, honest love song in black and red, with the voice just this side of breaking on this love of mine. • Still behind the piano, Sir Paul feels the need to bounce on it, and does so with Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five, no holds barred. • Since we're going insane, why fight it? Maybe I'm Amazed, absolutely a highlight so far—the piano, the shredding guitar. The screams and falsettos.
And then he's suddenly standing in front of the stage singing I've Just Seen A Face. Infuriating. • In Spite of All the Danger. This holds up, lifting the entire stadium with its gentle melody—until it's time to lose it when Paul plays George's guitar solo. McCartney—Harrison. • Love Me Do. George Martin name drop! No more audition nerves; this is a now a singalong tune. Excellent harmonica playing by Wix Wickens. • Michelle. In Paris! Makes me think of Ivan Vaughan's wife, who helped with the French. So much history in this room, in this work. The I Love You's are for everyone present. • Dance Tonight. That's right, get up and shake it! Palate cleanser.
Blackbird. I know: a forever song. The simplicity of him with a guitar. His hands. This is still that body. • Here Today. His voice is more firm singing this than it was in the past, not as close to tears—but if anything, it makes the line I Love You even better: strong, sure. Let's hear it for John. (Applause.) (Demanding gaze.) (More, louder applause.) That's right. • Now And Then. I miss John's voice. The vibes of this song are: It was beautiful, now it's over. Oof. Thank you, John, for giving us the beautiful song.
Enough of this. Sir Paul escapes behind the colorful piano. Lady Madonna time! • And right into Jet. Why not? A bit jarring, but hey. Triumphant fucking song, and just what we need now. • Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite! At this point you're just fucking with us, Paul, and we let you. Disturbing to discover the lyrics to this song reside in the same brain that seems to be incapable of remembering actually crucial information with real life consequences. • Something. And like that, the heart is pierced again. It's just Paul and the ukulele at first, and thousands of voices singing for George. The man was loved. And the song is genius.
Me, before the concert: I could do without Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. Me, during the song: goes nuts. • Band on the Run is a cool song, and it makes you feel good inside. It's time we all admit this. • Ram it home Paul, we want it: Get Back. What a song to play live. Gift of the gods.
Another change of pace as Paul sings Let It Be, surrounded by glowing wish balloons and the stars of the audience phone lights. Incredibly gorgeous and cathartic. My mother's second name was Mary and she died much too young; don't expect me to be normal about this song. • Live and Let Die. Okay then. Time to just surrender to the insanity of it all. I had *heard* of the fire show, seen it on small screens. I am not prepared. Not to mention the musical...orgy. • Hey Jude. This is my chance to come down a bit. What a peaceful melody. And then he screams and hollers during the ad lib section like the One Hand Clapping sprite he is...!
Encore: I've Got A Feeling. Paul and John sound crisp together. John looks so, so beautiful. Also, Paul still has the energy to almost scream in tune at this point. • Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band Reprise. Nooo, don't go! Also, Sgt. MF Pepper's exists because of this man and his bandmates. And it's just one song of the encore. Have to make choices, right. • Time to pull all the stops, and there's so much left. Helter Skelter. No, we will not take it down a notch. • Golden Slumbers. Damn you, Paul. • Carry That Weight. The first signs of the voice possibly being done for the night, but who cares when everyone sings along? • The End. The guitar solos! All this man wants to do is make music, either alone or in a good band. Both are fine with him, really.
When he's done, he's pretending to be humbled by the applause while actually soaking it up, and leaves the stage with a spring in his step, waving coquettishly at the camera that follows him for a bit. Is he kissing the camera? I forget. I think I remember the end. We see it all on the big screens: that lithe, white-haired figure, weaving past others until he's truly gone. Touch Me. Not a chance.
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slices-of-naranja · 11 months ago
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Hm. Leo Valdez and Nico bonding over religious trauma.
Everyone points out that Nico would be Catholic since Italian, y’know, yeah, makes sense. But Leo Valdez is Texan, Mexican, and his Tía Rosa literally called him a demon when he came to live with her after his mother died (if I remember correctly). His first response at Camp Halfblood was to ask if God with a capital G was real. (Which, fair, a lot do that, but still).
Brother could make fire with his hands, experienced the worst tragedy of his life because of it, and just lived seven years not knowing what the fuck was up with that??? Being called a demon at eight years old, after all that he went through, by a religious Mexican lady would definitely have a lasting effect. (Speaking as a Catholic Mexican).
Like, you’re not gonna tell me that some part of him didn’t secretly believe that. That it wouldn’t keep him up at night, wondering what the fuck he was. That he didn’t look back at his fucked up childhood, at the lava and brimstone in his veins, and not think “What if she’s right? What if I’m going to hell? What if I am a monster? A demon?”
Killing is a sin. Murder is a sin. And whatever the fuck he was, whatever kind of horrid creature he is, it wasn’t getting into Heaven. Don’t tell me he wouldn’t cry at the sight of a nun. Get nervous when his fosters would take him to church. Whisper silent prayers to be fixed, to have whatever was broken inside of him, whatever he was being punished for, to stop. To maybe stop existing at all.
I’m willing to bet that when an eight year old knows for a fact he isn’t human, fire flowing through his blood, and gets called a demon because of it during the worst time in his life, when not being human caused the death of someone he loves, it might stick with him. He might believe the words thrown at him.
So, yeah, I think Nico and Leo would get along.
Also- literally not in the headspace to articulate this correctly but I hope u see my vision.
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auggieblogs · 1 year ago
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From mine to yours | Max Verstappen Instagram au
Max Verstappen x fem! reader
* ੈ✩‧₊˚ Max does not hide his blatant favouritism!!!
Author's note: HAPPY DIWALI TO EVERYONE CELEBRATING!!! I hope all of you are doing good. This smau is a service to all my brown girlies, (and @maxiepinkz) consider it a Diwali gift. Also, my non-brown girles, all of you can read it just for the funnies (I like to think I am hilarious). Anyway, I love you all so much. Happy reading, my loves🤍
―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist
yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 124,789 others
yourusername Happy Diwali🪔
tagged maxverstappen1
comments:
username parents if I may
username MAX VERSTAPPEN IN A BLACK KURTA THIS IS NOT A DRILL HSJAHDSG
username me and who
landonorris Diwali is my favourite festival actually
maxverstappen1 We'll send over the leftover sweets Lando, don't worry landonorris good because Oscar was worried oscarpiastri EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ACTUAL- yourusername It's okay Osc, we know it is actually Lando landonorris NUH UH
username Y/N, meri jaan<3 (Y/N my beloved)
username this could be us but you don't even know what is Diwali
username dear god when I get to hell please let me bring Y/N and Max
username Everyone should thank Y/N for getting Max out of his rbr merch bc he looks fucking delicious in that kurta
username Thank you Y/NNN username Thank uuuu, Y/N you're doing god's work username we owe you Y/N😭 yourusername You're welcome my bacchas mwah😘 (You're welcome my babies)
maxverstappen1 I love you kaafi zyada (I love you a lot)
yourusername more than redbull sugar-free? maxverstappen know your limits (yes)
username damn this making me feel a different typa lonley
martingarrix Sick party, sick music and I WON THAT GAME OF CARDS
yourusername Martin puh lease🤚🏼🙄
charles_leclerc I need that party playlist Y/N I'm begging
lewishamilton +1
lilymhe omg me too!!!
yourusername anything for my favourite lady🫶🏼
username Y/N making all the firangis (foreigners) dance on desi music like yessss queen reverse colonisation or something
username ik my goat
maxverstappen1
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liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 450,314 others
maxverstappen1 Happy Diwali, from mine to yours❤️🪔
tagged yourusername
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username this is heartwarming awh!!!
username snshsj I love them
sophiekumpen Beautiful, Y/N💕
*liked by maxverstappen1 and yourusername*
yourusername Thank you so much, Sophie🥰
username I absolutely adore the Diwali vibes✨
username he posted 6 pics and 3/6 of them is Y/N I AM ON THE FLOOR
username down horrendously
username can you blame him though???
username I genuinely understand.
yourusername I love you, Max. Kaafi zyada. Bohot zyada. HADD SE ZYADA. (I love you, Max. A lot. Like A LOT. Beyond limits)
maxverstappen1 And I love you usse bhi zyada (And I love you more)
yourusername sharm aa gyi mujhe hehe🤭 (I’m blushing)
username Max learning Hindi for Y/N can be something so personal
username his side quests are getting out of hands
username bro probably did it to impress the in-laws
yourusername he knows 3 languages, what’s one more?😼
maxverstappen1 I am a romantic like that actually😊
username pretty pretty
username nahh this mf keeps winning on and off track annoying asf🙄👎🏼 ( I love them so much)
username oh to celebrate Diwali with my white boyfriend😭🙏🏼
username jokes aside, I want to know what max looks like up close with that kurta on
yourusername rishta material fr🤤 (marriageable)
danielricciardo It's the way we all were at the celebration and you managed to post just Y/N.
maxverstappen1 I do not hide my favouritism
username my desi girllll
username Y/N is living all my f1 driver x desi reader fantasies and I love it for her
redbullracing Hopefully we're invited to the Diwali party next year😁
landonorris nahhh no way after the ladoo incident
alexalbon Y/N is going to pull out her hair😭
yourusername uhm I'm actually conflicted tbh.
username WHAT IS THE LADOO INCIDENT?
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Diwali, also known as Deepavali, is a Hindu festival celebrated with great enthusiasm across India and various other parts of the world. It symbolizes the victory of light over darkness and good over evil. Diwali typically involves lighting oil lamps or diyas, decorating homes, exchanging gifts, and enjoying festive meals with family and friends. The festival holds cultural, religious, and social significance, promoting the spirit of joy, unity, and hope.
A ladoo (also spelt laddu) is a popular and traditional Indian sweet. It is a round-shaped sweet ball made from various ingredients, including flour, sugar, and ghee (clarified butter). Ladoos are often prepared during festivals, celebrations, and religious occasions in India. They are considered a symbol of good luck and are distributed as a gesture of joy.
Needless to say, it's my favourite time of the year😁
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ohbabydollie · 7 months ago
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currently imagining a jaded, deadpan lit teacher!schlatt. super intelligent, incredible teacher that all his students adore and love to learn from, but they all swear to god they’ve never seen him smile once
then comes along absolute ray of sunshine teacher!y/n, probably teaching some kind of fine art, and it is just like a moth to a flame. he cannot stay away from you!
you meet for the first time in the teacher’s lounge and he’s a little taken aback, he doesn’t know what it is about you but something makes his little brain flip a switch and it’s all sunshine and rainbows. not much longer after that, you start becoming friends, sharing cool little things about your interests or the subjects you teach.
he does a pretty good job of hiding these feelings from the kids, just because he wants to keep that side of him private from his students, but one day he slips up. you sneak in during a class of his during your free period to return a book he recommended to you. when you walked out, he had no idea that he was smiling but apparently the students noticed.
“mr. schlatt, were you just smiling?”
“finish your essay.”
also am i allowed to be 🥥 anon
ofc, welcome 🥥 anon
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before you came along schlatt was the most obviously exhausted and stressed teacher, but his students loved him.
from stapling mcdonald’s job applications on failed tests to talking about his cats. his students very clearly loved him and adored him, but he just seemed so sad in a way, especially when one of them got him to talk about his dating life.
single, with multiple failed dates under his belt
then you transferred to the school after the last art teacher had quit.
he had heard about you from his students, the new young single art teacher making sure to emphasize on the single part, but he always told them to focus on getting their assignment done over focusing on the teachers dating lives.
he really didn’t care for you, probably would be done in a few weeks if you couldn’t handle how rowdy and rough some of these kids could be. he gave you a month at best.
then you came into the teacher’s lounge getting snack after snack out of the vending machine as he watched in silence. not out of judgement, but he was just mesmerized completely
the concentration on your face as you punched in number after number watching the snacks fall before grabbing a cardboard box to place it all in was all so adorable to him, he didn’t even realize he had been staring until you looked over at him with a big smile.
“hi, i don’t believe we’ve met!” you chirp, “i’m y/n the new art teacher” you say extending out a hand for him to shake. he politely takes it, giving you a semi-awkward smile
“i’m jay, i teach english in b103” he says feeling himself turn red
“oh wow! i’m only down the hall from you, my room is c102” you say parting from the hand shake and picking up your box “well i’ll see you around” you say pushing the door open
and just like that you were gone as soon as you came
and schlatt had a new goal in mind, you
the next period he had came back better than ever. his normally deadpan and tired voice had more excitement and life to it and his students noticed for sure, waiting until the lesson was over to pry into him, but they all got the same response.
“jus added a shot of expresó into my coffee this mornin” he says starting to grade the assignments from his last class.
they had assumed that was it, nothing more to it until the next week where he seemed to be radiating with joy, when they pried into him again all he said was, “jus had some coffee from my favorite spot this mornin, nothin else”
he hadn’t mentioned it was with you.
over the next few months they noticed more and more change, fixing his hair more often, wearing his nicer clothes and whatever he could to look better.
as a student asked “so who’s the lucky lady?”
you had walked in holding a book, causing the room to fall silent. you practically floated to his desk as everyone watched you.
“hey, thanks for letting me borrow your copy, it was really good” you say handing him the book
“oh..it’s no problem, anytime” he says softly as you smile
“ ‘kay, well i’ll see you later, oh and your glasses are a little smudged” you say heading to leave as he watches in awe.
once you’re out, he’s taking off his glasses, smiling to himself with a small chuckle as he cleans them off, basking in the moment, completely forgetting his students were there until someone speaks up.
“mr. schlatt, are you smiling?” he asks teasingly before schlatt immediately drops the smile and goes deadpan again
“finish your assignment before i fail you”
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starberry-cupcake · 1 month ago
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Here I am again, hoping this silly recap brightens your day a little bit, I'm giving you a gentle hug and a mug of your favorite warm beverage ☕
previously, in harrowcita del 9:
this happened
I somehow predicted @lady-harrowhark's tshirt in the one before that also, it was very funny, in case you missed it
CHAPTER 48
we're doing just one chapter again because this one was Eventful, fam
last we knew, abby pent was trying to lorraine warren the ghost out of harrowcita's bubble
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my running theory was that the ghost was commander wake aka allegedly gideon's mom (none of that is in any way confirmed yet)
and ortus was about to say something
I said it might be poetry and, guess what?
I WAS RIGHT
you go, ortus, you recite that poetry
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abby apparently takes that as a cue to do something and thinks ortus has too much faith in her
but ortus trusts her, there's a lot of polycule moments in this one
the sleeper/waker/slasher allegedly gideon's mom unconfirmed absolutely does not give a fuck about any of this, she's slaying them all with her "baggy orange suit and gun collection"
I need the suit to look like this so bad
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harrow starts making constructs but killer bae starts turning them into ash in seconds
I mean, I know we need harrow to live and this woman is not supporting that idea but damn, she looks cool af
if you fought the emperor at any given point, amanda (I'm calling her amanda for now, I'll elaborate later) how did you lose?????
ortus is harmed, so harrow has to continue with the recitation in his place
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so harrow continues to recite the nonius poetry, while abby chants in the background and everyone else waits while bleeding
it's a very involved artistic performance that we've got going on over here in canaan au river bubble
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sleeper/waker/slasher/alleged commander wake alleged gideon's mom aka amanda (according to me) shoots harrowcita
but then abby is lifted in blue flames and seems to be holding an invisible book and everything gets all vib-ey
these are the exact vibes I'm picturing
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(not because I have a print of that in my room)
so harrowcita is saved from getting shot in the head by a man with the Ninth uniform and a very stellar use of the blade
AND YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE WHO IT IS
IT'S ORTUS'S BLORBO FROM HIS SHOWS!!!!!!!!
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matthias nonius is a short king who is surprised to be speaking in meter but is very happy to be here to defend the Reverend Daughter and fight like an expert killing machine
WHERE WAS ALL THIS FIGHTING POWER WHEN IT CAME TO KILLING THE EMPEROR
but not only is matthias nonius 10/10 at fighting (as advertised), the shrine ortus has in his head for him is helping to even the playing field with the waker/sleeper/alleged commander
she can't shoot anymore
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"I killed wizard's filth like you all my life. I killed them with guns, and bombs, and knives, and gas, and when I didn't have any of those I just got in real close and put my thumbs through their fucking eyes. You can flick that little skewer around all you like, boy. I'll choke you with it"
SHE'S INTENSE, we can be certain that the Harrow Only Notes were hers
"I certainly hope you're a fighter. God knows you're not a debater"
you guys I'm a certified mati nonius fan right now
ortus is drawing little hearts in his poetry book and writing Ortus Nonius in it
"If all of her cavaliers were this excited for death, she was definitely the problem"
they just love you too much, harrowcita
so mati nonius and waker/sleeper/alleged commander have the most intense and entertaining fight ever
because lyctor fights are weak and boring
but this, this is cinema
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harrow thinks that, if gideon had been there, she would have loved the fight but also she'd be terrible at running commentary of it
I disagree, gideon's running commentary is one of the things that keep us together as a society
"In life she must have had few, if any, equals. Her people—whoever they had been—must have cherished her as their finest champion."
gideon got some great fighting genes from all around, if my theories prove right
I mean, if her people are the people I'm thinking, they still have posters of her, so she must have been a big deal before she crashed in the ninth
SAD SHE DIDN'T KILL DR REVEREND EMPEROR JOHN THOUGH
BUT THERE'S STILL TIME FOR THAT
LIKE AN HOUR
harrow says mati nonius is "a poem" which is very nice of her to say
you go, short king
there's a lot of blood happening, also, which could be encouraging, since before this, the waker/sleeper/alleged commander wasn't bleeding at all
the room changes to become a ninth chamber and alleged commander changes clothes from the star trek orange suit to a different yet still orange getup and a golden mask
ortus's shrine in his head built for mati nonius is rewriting the possession
because nothing can pull you from the depths of despair as fast as your favorite blorbo
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"My master in life was revenge, my mission is one of��Goddamn it, I'm not going to start talking like this"
more points for the gideon's mom theory
protozoa and ortus are now communicating telepathically, they are starting to put aside their rivalry and finding out they have a lot in common
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enemies to friends to lovers speedrun
mati nonius loses his sword and goes feral
protozoa throws his cunty seventh rapier towards him, mati nonius catches it and ends the waker/sleeper/alleged commander
it all looked incredibly cool
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once the enemy is partially defeated (let's remember she's supposedly tethered to an object that I think is gideon's sword), the body horror starts falling from the walls
it's described as "sausages flung from a height" which is...quite the thing
like, I get what that sounds like, but also, maybe I didn't wanna know
harrow looks at the face of the waker/sleeper/alleged commander and says it's the woman from the poster of the shuttle
YASSSS GETTING CLOSER TO MY THEORY
like, I still don't know if the woman from the poster is commander wake or if she is indeed gideon's mom, but I'm going all in on this theory
now we have a little intermission in which everyone is waxing poetic about everyone else
this is the canaan house we always wanted to see
protozoa is giving heart eyes to mati nonius, mati is giving respects to harrow, ortus is saying he wants to write a poem about abby, magnus is telling ortus not to flirt with his wife as a joke but ortus looks mortified
and abby says ortus did most of the job but she also points out she corrected some of his spelling
which might have been the biggest mistake in magnus's and abby's lives because they just destroyed their polycule
you can't treat the ninth like that, fifth, they take it personally
but ortus is vindicated because his oshi, his favorite blorbo, his biggest hero, tells him nice things
harrowcita goes to check on the ghost corpse of the waker/sleeper/alleged commander and finds some tags
one of which says AWAKE
I THINK THAT'S MAYBE A. WAKE
AS IN COMMANDER WAKE
and I'm naming her amanda, as previously established
it would go well with the ancient tumblr meme
the prophecy
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sure hope this isn't the famous alecto everyone keeps mentioning because it'd ruin my prophecy
abby tells harrow the only way to get rid of her for good is to destroy the object to which she's tethered to
which I suspect might be gideon's sword, so fuck all this
we're meant to lose gideon and her sword??? absolutely not
let the woman kill the emperor instead
ALSO
surprise! mati nonius is besties with gideon the first
now, for someone who was sold out to be super serious and not an extrovert, gideon the first knows EVERYONE
he knows mati nonius, he probably also knows, to some degree of intimacy yet undetermined, the commander, he might be somewhat related to our gideon
the man is everywhere
basically, mati nonius and gideon the first had the same speedrun friendship that gideon had with camilla
they fought each other once and one of them thought "you're friend-shaped :) "
so, mati nonius is willing to go help gideon the first with the beast
because, as we have previously seen, no other lyctor is currently doing what they were supposed to
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so, ortus says he'll go with mati to help gideon the first
abby and magnus want him to go with them to be forever happy in their polycule, but it's too late
abby has insulted his spelling and magnus has made him feel uncomfy with his joke about the flirting
HOWEVER protozoa has told him he actually likes him AND has quoted poetry HE WROTE HIMSELF
enemies to friends to lovers to soulmates
martita, who was there the whole time, ties her sword to her broken hand and says she'll go with them
martita is actually cool for a second house person
judith, you didn't deserve her
NOW THERE'S A PROBLEM
A BIG ONE
if harrow doesn't go back to her body, she'll get lost and lose her mind in the river
if she does, though, she's gonna kill gideon for good
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harrowcita has a crisis and a breakdown
(and also stops for just a second to remember gideon rolling up her sleeves)
magnus compares the situation to a breakup he had with abby one time, which I don't think really encompasses the gravity of this situation, but ok magnus, it sure is similar
I mean, the breaking up part maybe but the level of gravity of the situation? idk man
I'm sure breaking up with abby felt this dramatic to you but...it's a little different
abby and magnus leave, telling harrowcita that jeanne said to tell gideon "hi" if harrow sees her first
which is super cute of the kid tbh
so, that leaves us with real!dulcinea
who is still here because
1) much like her lyctor counterpart, is very resistant to dying for good
2) she's determined to get vanished into nothingness and disappear into the very essence of existence, which I think sounds pretty cool
"The Seventh says nothingness is the only truly beautiful thing anyway, so nyah"
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3) also: "Actually, I've got something to tell you"
I SURE HOPE IT IS A WAY TO SAVE BOTH GIDEON'S AND HARROW'S LIVES
FINGERS CROSSED
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and that's it for this chapter!!!! next time, I'm expecting more gideon and yandere twin antics!!!
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melancholiaincarnate · 1 month ago
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yours, now and forever
a regency era kento nanami longfic
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「 in which ᵎᵎ 」 kento nanami is a fool with his words, and you can't seem to get on his good side.
「 words ᵎᵎ 」 many. (12k)
「 author's note ᵎᵎ 」 wow okay, so. this is my baby. it has gone through many versions, many rewrites, and now it's moved blogs with me. if you know my old blog, you know what fic this used to be, and i felt as if it were wasted on that fandom. without that fandom though, i wouldn't have found my closest friend and idea gremlin, @zooone. thank u to my zone. thank u to my proofreader @egglain who took the time to research my historical inaccuracies and then deal with me even as i proceeded to ignore them. anyways, heed warnings etc etc, this is NOT historically accurate, nor is it very good, but i love it. if the people demand, there will be little drabbles about their lives bcus i am not ready to give up regency!nanami just yet :DDD
「 tags n warnings ᵎᵎ 」 no smut deal with it, lottts of angst, major character death, historical inaccuracy, satoru gojo being a little bitch, satoru gojo matchmaker arc, kento nanami is a little ooc, everyone is a little ooc, nanami somehow became choso and yuji's guardian??? choso uses itadori last name, yuko ozawa mention?!, lots of angst, reader is a bitch if you squint, pining!!, bridgerton/pride and prejudice inspired :D
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it’s beautiful this time of year. you’ve always loved the springtime, not only because of the warmer air and the fresh scent of flowers, but because it meant you were traveling up to the ton. 
the ton was one of your favorite places, if not favorite, to ever be. as much as you loved your father’s estate in the countryside– complete with its own stables, riding grounds, and grandoise library– nothing compared to stepping outside the door of the town manor stepping outside the door of the town manor to the bustling carriages and people laughing in the streets. the feeling of the sun shining down on you and casting gorgeous shadows of the leaves was incomparable.
springtime was the social season - when every family who meant something in society flocked from their vast country homes to the smaller, (yet just as grand), manors that lined the streets of london. 
social season also meant that you would see friends and family that you barely saw otherwise. each year, as your carriage pulled up to the manor, you could see the figure of your favorite younger cousin. even from quite a bit away, your excitement was infectious and you could feel it bubbling in your own body. 
this year was no different. as soon as the carriage pulled to a stop, you were bounding out, (nearly tripping on loose pathing), and bombarding your cousin with a tight embrace. 
“oh nobara,” you exclaimed, leaning into your cousin, “it’s been so long. my god, you cut your hair!” your mouth widens in surprise as you bring a hand to twirl the ends of your cousin’s hair. A
“over the winter i have discovered an affection for shorter hair. i saw a girl with it in a town i visited and i decided i must attempt it for myself.” nobara beams, “it looks gorgeous on me, does it not? i am sure to capture attention!” 
there was a glint of anticipation beyond measure in nobara’s eyes. this year, nobara would be making her debut at the first ball of the season, where she and other debuting ladies would announce themselves as open candidates for matrimony. 
the tradition was as follows: each lady, upon turning eighteen years, would make their entrance into society, and find themselves a husband. it would be done so via a series of balls, in which the ladies would dance with men who approached them, and be courted by men for four months before they were offered a hand in marriage. nobara, being from japan and having to find a companion to travel to london with, would be debuting herself a little later - at her current stature of one and twenty.
according to nobara, she had spent the entirety of last year taking notes and writing down tips from older ladies in a small pink journal - all so that she would find a perfect match in her first year. she was entirely too determined, you thought.
most ladies, if not all, find their match in their first season. there were some unlucky ones who took two, and even three. they were generally looked down upon by society, and nobara would be damned if she didn't get her husband her first go-round the ton.
you, on the other hand, were completely comfortable without a husband. you found the whole courting process tedious, and thought it a waste of time to spend hours at tea parties and balls flaunting off to men who simply see you as nothing but a warm bed to come home to at night. unfortunately, this would be your last year of freedom, so to speak. ladies around the ton were beginning to imply, (more like shove in your face), that you needed to be married soon, as it was quote unquote improper for a lady approaching five and twenty to be unmarried. 
you took pride in your family, especially your father, and if he were to somehow lose out on business prospects or be shunned from society simply because you did not fancy any man in london, you would feel most guiltily. he had done nothing but provide for you; how awful it would be to outcast one’s own family for lack of a suitable marriage. 
“cousin?” nobara cocks her head to catch the eldest’s attention, “you are always so far away, even when you are standing right in front of me. please, cousin, enlighten me. what is on your mind that has you so troubled?”
you simply smiled and shook your head. “i am only mentally grieving the loss of my freedom, nobara, and nothing more. you know i am not as eager as you are to be wed, and yet, the general populace are starting to talk. as much as i may protest, i fear that within the next two seasons– nay, one– i must procure myself a match.” you sighed, lacing your arm within your cousin’s as the two ladies entered the manor. 
they enter the drawing room and the scent of fresh flowers wafted in the air, a vase full of fresh lilies on the table by the door. the drawing room had alabaster walls, green accents, and was complete with gorgeous chestnut furniture commissioned by your father from a local carpenter after your mother had mentioned an affinity for the look of chestnut. the tables were recently polished, and sat right in the middle of a small side table were scones and tea.
“oh cousin, you are always so dreary!” nobara sighs, having a seat on the sofa. “pass me a scone, will you? i am starved.” upon your completion of nobara’s request, you sat down at your own small table, where your father had left a newly bound journal for you - complete with a small sprig of baby’s breath tucked in between the pages as a marker. 
although your father was often physically absent due to business travels, he was certainly not emotionally absent. he made sure that his daughter, no matter your age, was properly taken care of and had everything a young lady could possibly ever ask for. 
you didn’t mind his frequent absences though. you enjoyed your own company, and had no problem finding things to busy yourself what with your insatiable curiosity. you’d beguan reading more intensive books at ten, playing the pianoforte at twelve, and sewing at fourteen, though you’d stopped once you began pricking yourself too often. recently, you had picked up drawing, and you wanted to head to the markets sooner rather than later to pick up a brand new journal and some charcoal pencils.
tuning nobara’s drawls about the season out, you spoke. “nobara,” you asked, twirling the baby’s breath around in your fingers, “i am going to take to the markets if you would like to join. you would be agreeable company.”
“sounds wonderful!” nobara beamed, standing up quickly, “i need to pick up some new ribbons anyhow, the first ball is only a mere three nights a ways. i must begin preparations!”
upon hearing your cousin bring up the ball yet again, you could not help yourself as laughter bubbled out of your throat. you shook your head, grabbing a small shawl and wrapping it around your shoulders, before setting out the door to the market, nobara in tow. 
the market was an average place. everywhere you looked were small shops lit by candlelight and newsboys trying to hustle a pound or two by selling the latest society papers.
there were, of course, girls –-- with their corsets tied a little too tight and their legs crossed gracefully as they sat on park benches underneath lacy umbrellas. with girls, came men, who were seeking to start the season early as they paraded downthe side walks with an air of pompous grace, their eyes manically searching for the girl they were to court.  
“humourless morons in my opinion,” you scoffed as you watched a man procure a smushed flower from the back of his pocket and present it to a lady - the same man who, moments earlier, you’d watched do the same to another, only to be rejected. “not an ounce of shame behind their actions. it is honestly a mystery to me how they manage to get away with such behavior. do women not see? or do they choose not to see simply because they are deluded with silly fantasies of marriage?” 
“you need to watch your tongue, cousin,” nobara teased, her eyes also wandering and scouting for a possible match, “for one day, one of these morons will catch your eye.”
“in some other world, yes,” you laughed, shaking your head, “but in this one, i have yet to find one man who possesses the ability to be both aware of himself, and of the world, and i doubt i ever will. london is full of nothing but raffish rakes.”
after mingling amongst the patrons for an hour or two, the girls return home. nobara’s hands are filled with pretty ribbons and hair pins, while your hands are quite empty - save for a journal and a pair of charcoal pencils. 
as soon as you arrive back at the manor, you bid goodnight to your cousin as night has settled its way into your bones. you hadn’t slept in your room at the ton manor in almost a year, and so the minute your skin feels the soft silk of the sheets and the pillow that has been kept well fluffed, sleep weighs your body down. 
the next three days go about the same. you spend ample time in the drawing room with nobara, occasionally making a journey to the park to people-watch and draw while nobara converses.
you’re sitting in the park, your charcoal pencil composing a beautiful illustration of the landscapeand its nature. nobara is sitting next to you, a cross-stitch project in your hands when a girl runs up to them, one you both recognize, and the girl looks quite roused.
“you will never guess who is slated to visit.” the girl, a longtime friend of yours named yuko ozawa, is laughing. “the itadori’s and their guardian, kento nanami! they have not been back to london in ages! and,” her voice drops, as she looks around to see if anyone is listening, “rumor has it - the two eldest, yuuji and choso, are looking for wives. oh! and how could i forget! they are hosting a friend for the season. there are varying reports - some say it is lady ieiri shoko, but most believe it is lord satoru gojo, and my, he is wealthy.” she giggles, “i do not want after the wealth though. i have heard that the youngest itadori, yuuji, i believe, is around my age and is quite handsome.” she smiles, mischief dancing in her eyes, “hopefully, they attend the ball. oh! i must go home and start preparing. i do hope to see you there tonight?”
“we will be in attendance,” nobara confirms with a soft look and somehow, yuko’s smile brightens. 
“magnificent!” she laughs, “i will see you there! best of luck to you nobara, and you,” yuko turns to you, “i will not wish luck for, as i know you will not be courting.”
“i am glad you know me so well, friend.” you smile, and yuko laughs. 
“right, well. i shall see you two later.” yuko bids her farewells, and nobara turns to you, eyes dancing just as brightly as– if not more than– yuko’s.
“did you hear that, cousin?” her voice is filled with titillation and glee, “the itadoris, and their friends too! i am sorry to interrupt your art, but we must go and dress! one of us,” she smiles knowingly at her cousin, “might catch the eldest or,” mischief sparkles in your eye, “lord gojo’s attention.”
“and it will be you, dearest nobara. once they lay eyes upon you, they will be smitten for the rest of their lives.” you shut your book carefully, tucking the charcoal pencil behind your ear as you stand.
nobara does the same, dusting the dirt off of her dress as the two of you grasp arms and walk back home.
as soon as you arrive, nobara is sent into a frenzy. questions like, “should i wear this dress?” or “which pendant matches better?” are echoed down the long halls of the manor, making their way to your ears.
you’ve already picked out a dress, and compared to the dresses other girls will be wearing tonight, it’s rather, well, plain. a pale pink base with barely visible white lace decorating the front, and a white ribbon tied round your waist. your hair is tied into a neat bun, with your neck and face accentuated with a matching pearl necklace and set of earrings. after almost six seasons of watching, you know your ensemble will attract the least attention, and allow you to stay in the shadows as you please. you’re content with your look, and that is all that matters to you. 
nobara, of course, the very meaning of elegance, was dressed beautifully. her jewelry was polished perfectly and light bounced off of it like a mirror, while her dress was a gorgeous deep blue that made her face pop.
the ball was not short of ladies dressed similar to nobara - their faces shining with bright smiles as they fanned themselves lightly. it was the beginning of spring, after all, and the weather was beginning to heat up slightly.  people danced in the middle, soft giggles from girls wafting through the air. it was the first ball of the season - girls needed to make an impression. 
you watched from the sidelines, carefully cradling a small cup of champagne, until suddenly, the entire room went silent. it was odd - never in your life had you’d heard a room so silent, especially one that was just bouncing with life only moments prior. 
you saw the crowd parting for a group of people, and though you couldn't see all of them, you saw one particularly tall male. you craned your neck to get a look at the rest, and their prestige only clicked when they were announced to everyone.
“lord choso kamo,” the steward of the household pointed to a raven-haired boy with a frown, “lord. yuuji itadori, ” a fair-skinned, pink-haired man with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “lord kento nanami,” he was rather stoic and tall with gorgeous blonde hair,  “and lord satoru gojo.” a couple inches taller than kento, he had a prideful sort of look about him - one that caught the attention of every lady in the room.
as soon as the announcement of their arrival finished, the ball was back into full swing, with girls being twirled and spun around, and laughter dancing through the air. the small group of four separated, with the two younger men immediately finding themselves dance partners, and satoru entertaining himself with the women that flocked to him. his blonde friend seems to have his own fair share of admirers, but for some odd reason or another, he is ignoring them. 
it was the eldest of the group though, that tall blonde one, that caught your attention. you cannot decide whether it’s his handsomeness, or if it’s the displeased look on his face, but something about him makes you peel yourself off the wall and out of the shadows.
 for the first time in your life, a man has intrigued you.
people are bumping into you, but you weave yourself right through expertly. right as you reach the two men though, a drunken man pushes you, and you trip over your own feet. fortunately, there’s a pair of strong arms that wrap around your waist, preventing your fall.
“are you alright?” the voice is hiding its laughter, and you look up to find a quirky smile paired with a the most crystal blue eyes. “i must say, you would have taken a rather nasty fall if i were not there to catch you.” he helps you regain your footing, and as soon as you recognize him, you bow.
“lord gojo.” you murmur, downcasting your eyes towards his unnaturally shiny boots. “my apologies, sir.”
“no need for such formalities.” the man laughs as you raise your head back up to meet his eyes. “it was simply a mistake. drunken men, yes?”
“oh, nothing unusual.” you titter, “take a walk around the town at night, and i bet you would be penniless if you had to give me a dollar for every drunken man you saw. it does not take away from the charm though, oh not at all,  especially with the way the pond in the park glitters at night.” your eyes sparkle with a certain fondness that does not simply pass the man behind satoru. kento’s fist clenches at his side, and he takes a breath, his stoic demeanor returning instantly. 
“you speak of the town as if you have grown up here. am i correct in my assumptions, miss?” satoru’s voice is enchanting and it’s obvious his friend is hanging on your every word. his mouth parts slightly as if he were to speak but you begin talking again and he shuts his mouth obediently. 
“you would be partially correct. i spend my warmer seasons here, and the colder ones on my father’s estate not too far from here. i do consider this my home though.” memories of you underneath your father’s arms as you strolled around the town come flooding back to you, and your heart fills with warmth. 
satoru is quiet for a moment. as he goes to speak, a new song begins, and he looks at you sheepishly. kento’s fist clenches at his side. “forgive me if i am too forward, but would you like to dance? i may not be the best but you draw my curiosity.” 
you duck your head with a smile, and bow, “of course, my lord.” 
as the two of you take hands and begin waltzing around the room, you lock eyes with satoru’s companion. he  has his head cocked and is looking at you with a look you cannot place, but that you assume is nothing other than pure curiosity. his hands are crossed against his chest, and he is still blatantly ignoring any women that come to his attention. you decide then that you must ask him for a dance. your curiosity is insatiable.
the dance comes to an end, and with a reddened face, satoru gives you a bow. “i do hope to dance with you at least once more before the night ends, if you are not opposed of course.” his eyes are sparkling and you think to yourself that he is quite handsome.
“i am not opposed, my lord. come find me whenever you see fit.” with that, you bow, give a heart-melting smile, and find your way through the crowd towards the itadoris’ guardian.
he seems shocked–, no, confused–, as to why you’re approaching him. “lord. nanami.” you curtsy. you receive no greeting back– - not even an acknowledgement of your presence. he simply stares down at you with blank, cold eyes, the complete opposite of satoru’s. “i just had the pleasure of dancing with your companion. he is a wonderful dancer, i must say. do you dance, mr. nanami?” 
“no.” 
“oh. i see. is there a particular reason?” your hands have come to play with the pearls on your neck, a nervous tick of yours. it’s becoming awkward to keep standing here while this man blatantly ignores you.
“because i do not.” his voice is stern, and finally, he makes eye contact with you. “i do not dance, and if i did, i would not dance with you.” his words are harsh, and you cannot help the sneer that graces your lips.
“such pleasant words.” you retort with a bite, “it clearly appears you enjoy your solitude, so i will leave you be. good day.” you huff, your pride wounded. kento, on the other hand, takes a step to follow you, but then returns back to his post, watching your figure practically stomp away from him. you berate yourself for even thinking about dancing with him while similarly, he berates himself for his sharp tongue. 
you stand off to the side, fuming, as nobara gracefully steps beside you. “you danced with lord satoru, cousin, so why do you seem so down?”
“his companion,” you shoot a glare at kento, the ice in your eyes fading to confusion as you realize he was already staring at you, “is an impolite arse with no home training. i do not care how much wealth he boasts for it means nothing if he is rude to every person he comes across. for heaven’s sake, nobara, he didn’t even look at me for half of our short-lived conversation!” you are vexed, and as kento watches you recount the tale to your cousin from across the room, he cannot help but feel slightly remorseful for his actions. 
the guilt rises to his throat and nearly chokes him to death once he sees your rant interrupted by none otherthan satoru gojo. he feels ill, he thinks, as he watches your scowl lift into a smile at the sight of his friend, and his friend’s equally bright smile as he takes your hand and youproceed to the dancefloor. 
kento turns away, clenching his fist at his sides, and instead decides to take a walk around the grounds and sulk in the byproduct of his social ineptitude.
“miss,” satoru asks you as the dance ends, “i was wondering if you would be home tomorrow, so i may call on you. our dances this evening were wonderful, and i would be most grateful to get to know you more. of course, it is your decision. if you do not want to see me, i shall oblige.” he gives you a smile, and suddenly, the idea of marriage does not sound too horrible to you. not if it is him, at least. 
“do not sell yourself short! i would be nothing but honored to receive you at my home.” your features soften. “it would be my pleasure, truly.”
“magnificent!” satoru laughs, his chest bursting at the prospect of getting to know you more. “i shall see you tomorrow, then?” 
“tomorrow, my lord.” you bow, and he shakes his head.
“please, miss, the formalities are not necessary.” he reminds you as you both approach nobara, where you are waiting by the carriage. “miss.” he gives nobara a bow, which you return, and then he stands regally again in front of you. “it was a pleasure getting to know you today. i look forwards to our visit.”
his excitement was unmatched. the next morning, as soon as the clock hit a decent visiting hour, his presence was announced at your manor. 
he looked nervous, almost, but his look of anxiety was quickly swept away by a bright smile. “miss.” he bowed, “i am here, as promised. thank you again for having me. it was wonderful to meet you last night.” nobara gave a small knowing look to her cousin, and then promptly escorted herself out of the room.
nobara would only be gone from the room for a mere few hours– - as satoru had said, he had business to attend to. he did not leave without extending a dinner invitation for that evening, inviting them both to the itadori’s’ manor.
you accepted with a bright smile and a curtsy, but the minute you heard his carriage begin its venture down the road, you groaned loudly.
“i cannot– - he is– - i cannot.” you tried to gather your words, but couldn’t. “i do not think i will be able to sit at a dinner with kento nanami and not watch my tongue. he is … there are no words to describe him. oh, this is going to go horribly. absolutely terribly, nobara.”
“tell me, why do you care if it goes horribly?” nobara asks, not looking up from her cross-stitching. “i thought you were not looking to marry this season.” there’s a teasing lilt behind the words, and it makes you roll your eyes in displeasure.
“you are so attentive, nobara.” you sigh, fiddling with a pillow on the couch. “i … i am not enthused by the idea… but i am not completely… opposed to it.” you know you’re lying to yourself and your cousin– - you’ve always been severely opposed to marriage, but there was something so captivating and appealing about lord gojo that made you even the slightest bit open to the idea. 
“falsehoods.” nobara scoffs. “you have said since we were little that you hate marriage! just admit it,” nobara simpers, “you have grown affections for satoru! and after only one dance, my god! if i had known it was that easy, i would have set you up to dance ages ago!” 
“i have not,.” you huff, giving nobara a pointed look. “who is to say that i am not just utilizing the man and his wealth for a nice dinner? i am positive the food tonight will be like nothing either of us have ever had, and a singular dinner will not guarantee his affections for me. i am sure he will not offer his hand in marriage immediately.” 
“you speak so lowly of men, my dear cousin. they are but fragile and sensitive creatures, and they fall hard.” nobara tuts, finally putting down her cross stitch to look at you. “you are playing a dangerous game and i do hope you will know when to end it.” she sighs, “i only wish for your happiness, but not at the expense of others, and especially not one as sweet as lord gojo. please do keep that in mind.” with that, nobara leaves. 
as the clock ticks on, and time moves closer and closer to the hour when you are supposed to arrive, your anxieties grow. nobara was right - you are walking a thin line, and could hurt a good man in the process, but your heart just isn't in it the way you think it's supposed to be.
you watch the townsfolk through the carriage window as you think. people have always described love to be this beautiful thing. your own father would tell stories about how he felt like he could not breathe when he was around your mother. you were only so averse to love because of the way your father described it– - overwhelming and smothering. your father would say that he felt like he was being strangulated every time he was apart from your mother, and the thought of that just was not appealing to you. you wanted to be your own person, not bound to a singular person for a source of air, and especially not bound to a pompous, arrogant man.
the books, though…, they described love as some fragile glass knickknack that needed to be cradled gently or else it would crack. 
you did not want love if it was similar to asphyxiation and you did not want love if it was delicate and dainty. you wanted a love that you did not have to stifle yourself for, and you were positive you would never find it. everyone fell hard and fast– - but you thought love at first sight was ridiculous. how were you supposed to decide based on one look– - one dance–, that this was your life partner?
nobara, of course, knew all of this. she was not lying when she said she wanted the best for her cousin and whether or not that was marriage was up to you. nobara could sense the yearning though. she could see the lingering glances at happier couples and the hesitance behind every step you took away from men who approached you. she has taken peeks at the novels her cousin picks up from the market– - all romance novels. she knew her cousin wanted nothing more than to love and to be in love, but she also knew her cousin was a stubborn woman and would not settle for anything less than exactly what she wanted.
you spoke of an ache in your chest to nobara often. you both attributed it to the loss of your mother, but the stars knew better. the hole in your heart was an ache for love– - pure, genuine love–, and whether or not you liked it, the stars would deliver it to you in the form of one kento nanami. 
your attention focused from your wandering thoughts to three figures standing by the entrance to the itadori manor. lord gojo, with a smile so bright it rivaled the sun, and the two itadori’s at each side.
“you made it!” satoru is at the carriage door immediately, helping nobara out gently, and then you. “you look wonderful, i am so happy you are here. it is not my home, of course my home is a day's journey away, but the itadori’s are lovely hosts!” he smiles, his enthusiasm palpable and his love for the itadori’s clear. 
it's endearing to you, and you find a small smile creeping itsit's way up your face. “the manor looks lovely so far, my l-satoru.” you stop yourself, remembering the man’s wishes from the night before.
“i am unsure if you were properly introduced to the itadoris.” he leads you gently to the boys, who are making conversation with nobara, “this is yuuji,” he points to the boy with pink hair, “and this is choso.”
yuuji shakes his head, and then glances at his hand. “i hope… i hope you enjoy your day at our manor.” he smiles brightly, putting his hand down quickly. in a flash, you could see words were written on his hand and you suppress a giggle.
“our guardian, kento,” the thought of that man makes your chest tighten with upset, “is in the study. he says that he hopes you and your cousin enjoy the grounds and he will try his best to be present at dinner.” choso’s voice is bland.
“but if you ask me, he will not be there. he never is.” yuuji huffs, turning his back to the group. “i will be in the parlor with the piano, if you will excuse me.” 
“excuse him,” satoru laughs awkwardly, “the boy has got a bit of a temper.” 
just like his guardian, you think.
“would you like a tour?” choso asks softly, saddling up to your side. “i do not mind showing you around, i actually quite like this manor compared to our other one. it has more life in it.”
“i feel the same way about my manor.” you give him a soft smile, “i would love a tour, choso. satoru, choso is going to give me a tour around the grounds if you do not mind.”
“no, of course not!” satoru grins, “i had some work to finish before dinner any way, i was hoping the boys would entertain the two of you. i am sorry, i invited you over too early,.” he gives you a bow, “but i swear to you i will be right by your side at dinner. you have my word.”
“i trust you.” your eyes soften and you feel a sense of warmth wash over you at his promises. there has never been a man so thoughtful towards you, and yet, nobara’s words ring in your head.
you walk through the halls with choso as he shows off his art collections that hang on the wall. the boy has an affinity for art, you find out. at some point, they come across yuuji playing the piano rather beautifully in the parlor, and nobara disbands from the tour to go listen to yuuji playing. eventually, you find yourself at the library with choso. it is a tall room in the middle of the manor, with books lining every corner of the room. some old, some new, and others clearly loved. at one end, a window covers the entire wall, looking out onto the gardens. 
“kento's collection.” choso says with a smile, “he has been collecting since …” he trails off, “since he was a boy.”
“it’s beautiful.” you murmur. it’s true. in the spaces where there are not books, there are beautiful paintings, depicting nature at its finest. landscapes with flowers, oceans with boats floating atop them, and in the middle, the centerpiece, a garden filled with an assortment of gorgeous flowers. 
your eyes wander around the room. his collection rivals your own back at the estate, and you’re surprised that someone would have more books than your father. 
“this must have cost a fortune.” your hands run across some of the books nearest to the door. these are the ones that look as though they were brought recently, and you notice a copy of a book you own on the shelf. 
“kento has a way with words,” choso chuckles, “half of these, actually–, most likely more–, were bartered or traded.” 
you hum. “i will agree. though, not positively.” you smiles, “your guardian shared some… choice words towards me regarding a dance last night.”
“did he say something of offense?” choso frowns, “my apologies. my guardian is, well, not the best, i shall say, at using his words properly, despite his affinity for writing. i am sure he did not mean it.”
you don’t want to hurt this poor boy’s opinion of his guardian, and so you keep your mouth shut. “i will take your word for it, choso.” you pull out a book, caressing the pages carefully in your hands. the smell of old book hit your nose and you felt as though you were back at home in your father’s library.
“if you would like, i can leave you here until dinner. i am sure kento will not mind. he never really comes out from the study any way, so you will be completely undisturbed.”
twice now, the boys have mentioned kento's frequent absence. 
you ponder it for a moment, before smiling and nodding. “that would be wonderful. thank you for your hospitality, choso.”
“it is my pleasure, miss.” he gives you a bow, and shuts the door softly, leaving you to explore the room on your own.
you immediately head towards the couch situated by the window. there are books stacked upon the floor and on a nearby table, and you step around them carefully so as to not disturb them.
a book at the top of a stack by the couch peaks your attention. it's worn and has obvious signs of wear, but that only warms your heart as it means the book has been loved. you grab it, immediately becoming immersed.
you don’t notice when the door opens, and watching you curiously from the doorway is kento himself. 
leaning against the doorframe, he clears his throat. “and may i ask what you are doing in my personal library?” he looks a lot more relaxed than he did at the ball last night and you cannot tell if it is his attire or the fact that he is simply in his own home. he's dressed casually, with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt untucked. his hair is slightly messy, and he's got a pair of round glasses on. despite your dislike for the man, you think he looks quite handsome.
“oh, mr. nanami.” you close the book carefully, setting it to the side, “my apologies. i did not mean to intrude. lord gojo invited my cousin and i over for dinner but he had some work. choso showed me around the manor and told me i could stay if i wanted. if you would like me to go though, i will.” you stand, smoothing out your dress, but he shakes his head.
“no, it is quite alright. you may stay.” he leans off the wall and shuts the door carefully behind him. “it was simply unexpected. that's all. i am not used to having visitors who are interested in my library.” as he approaches you, he notices the book in your hands. “you have a fondness for poetry?” 
“i do.” you smile, “i do not write myself– - no i could not use such eloquent words–, but i cannot help but enjoy them.” 
“one of my favorites too.” he murmurs, bending down to grab the book you were reading off of the couch. 
“i could tell. it is well-loved. you ought to buy yourself a new copy, mr. nanami.” you laugh lightly, “the words are fading.”
“do not tell me what to do with my own possessions. you have no right.” his head snaps up, “i have changed my mind. take your leave.” his voice is rigid and there’s a palpable anger behind his words.
“i- my apologies, mr, i-”
“out. i am not asking.” he orders, pointing a finger towards the door. 
“i am sorry.” you mutter once more, before practically flying out of the room. the door shuts with a thud and he closes his eyes, biting his lip as hard as he can. he thinks he tastes blood. 
he sinks onto the couch with the poetry book gripped tight in his left hand. with a small sigh, he turns the book to the side, running his finger along the barely visible “‘y.h.”’ engraved on the spine. it was so small and so worn out that one wouldn't notice it unless they knew it was there. he blinks away the tears and swallows down a lifetime’s worth of regret, opening the book as his fingers trail along the first stanzas of the first poem. he isn't reading– - he knows this book better than he knows himself– - this book is an extension of himself. he couldn’t ever bring himself to replace it for it would be as if he were replacing his own flesh and blood.
kento is late to dinner but the evident shock at his arrival on both yuuji, choso’s and satoru’s face tells you enough. he spares no one a glance, not even his own wards, and seems ticked off that the conversation at the table dwindled. 
you catch the side glances that yuuji and choso throw at each other, and you turn your body towards nobara, who is seated right beside you.
“he looks miserable.” you remark quietly, shoving the peas on your plate to the side. you were not a fan of peas, nor kento, but you would have to tolerate both it seemed.
“he always looks like that.” nobara replies back smoothly, “in the past four- and- twenty hours we have known him, i do not think i have ever seen a different expression on his face.” you let out a little giggle, turning your attention back to the conversation that was at hand. currently, yuuji was enthralling kento with a story of this young woman he had danced with last night.
“she  was absolutely stunning.” he sighs, “and yet, i am afraid i do not know how to capture her affections.” “what is her name?” kento takes a sip of his wine, cocking his head. “i would like to put a name to the woman you have not quit babbling about.” “yuko.” even saying the name causes the boy’s face to erupt in a smile, and you cock your head. “yuko?” you hum, “i have a friend named yuko about your age. say, i think your beloved yuko might also be mine.” “really?” his eyes sparkle, “you are friends with my dear yuko?” he gives you a quick description of the girl, and upon confirmation that they indeed share the same yuko, he leans in to the table. “do you know what she likes? what can i do to gain her admiration? what do you recommend to gain one’s affections?” 
“dancing.” your eyes flit quickly to kento who lets out an unamused snort. you were not going to remark, but his reaction irked you. “even if one’s partner is a discourteous soul.” 
“and what if one’s partner is just barely tolerable?” kento places his fork down, giving you a nasty look.
“well then,” you clears your throat, “everyone has their own interpretation of ‘barely tolerable’ and mine is sitting in front of me.”
satoru clears his throat, the tension between the two of them becoming suffocating. “well,” he smiles, “maybe you should call upon yuko tomorrow. invite her to dinner. and you, of course,” he turns to you, “are welcome to come tomorrow as well, since you are acquainted with yuko. oh, and your cousin as well!” 
“i appreciate the invite, my lord,” you wipe off your face with a small napkin that was provided, “but it seems as if i am an unwanted guest. i would absolutely hate to intrude on the itadori’s’ home for yet another anotyour day, especially considering the animosity i have been shown by their guardian.” you smile sweetly towards kento, who feels his chest constrict. “i would be delighted to have dinner again with you though, and so i am instead offering to return the favor and host you, yuko, yuuji and choso at my home tomorrow.”
the fact that you purposefully left him out causes kento to slam his fork down in anger. the plate rattled, and he nearly tips over his wine glass. “you are in my home, and i will not stand for your intolerance. i do not care if you are a guest under satoru–- you will respect me.” his voice is low and he is looking at you with a look his wards haven't seen since they were entrusted into his care.
you scoff, “i refuse to show respect to someone who has treated me with such contempt. i have been nothing but courteous to you, and yet you still find it in yourself to be ill-mannered. bless satoru’s soul because quite honestly, i am shocked you even have friends.”
“you are undermining me in my own home, and i do not appreciate it.” he hisses, “you become upset at my rejection, intrude upon my own personal library, and then proceed to invite every person i hold dear to me and exclude me.”
“i undermine you?” you laugh dryly, your eyes squinting at him, “you are delusional. you are the one who sits here and belittles everything i say, even if not directed towards you. though,” you stand, smoothing down your dress, “i suppose it is to make up for your lack of charm. lord gojo,” you bow, “i really do appreciate your hospitality. the same goes for you two,” you gives a soft smile to the boys, “but unfortunately, i am incredibly uncomfortable. nobara and i will be leaving now. thank you though, and my offer for tomorrow still stands.” nobara scrambles to bow to them, and you both leave. you waste not another glance at kento, your chest full and clenched with anger.
“i have plenty of charm, i just do not wish to waste it on a woman as average as you.” he shouts after you. as your footsteps recede, he shoves his own chair into the table, causing it to shake, and he retreats to his office, his fists clenched at his side.
the manor door closes noisily, and in the aftermath of their altercation everyone remaining at the table heard the slam of his study door and the simultaneous rumbling of your carriage pulling away out of the roadway. 
“i have lost my appetite.” yuuji mumbles, “please excuse me.” yuuji quietly tucks in his chair and leaves the room.
“as have i.” choso follows, leaving satoru alone in the dining room by himself. 
there’s a silence that follows, one that satoru does not like. satoru does not like silence much to begin with, but this one is heavier. this one was a direct cause of his actions. he leaves the dinner table, choosing instead to retire to his room for the night. in all his years of friendship, he has never seen kento so upset with a person, and he would hate to continue distressing his friend, especially considering the hardships the man is facing. on the other hand, there was a look in kento’s eyes that he could not place. it wasn’t hatred or disdain, and it bewildered the hell out of satoru. he saw the same look in your eyes too.
last night at the ball, you weren’t walking over to talk to him. no, of course you weren’t. his friend was spacing out and staring off into the distance, and when he followed his eyes, they were fixated on you. you were looking back at him with the same intensity, and then, both of their attentions were grabbed and pulled away. satoru noticed, how despite the many beautiful girls approaching kento, that his eyes kept wandering to that shadow, silently pleading for it’s attention. twenty minutes later, it was gone from the wall, and another two after that, satoru caught you from falling.
satoru had known from the very start that you were not into him and that your affections lay with kento. everything he had done was calculated from the minute he had asked you to dance. positioning you in kento’s line of sight so you could see each other while you danced, asking you to come over for dinner, and even choso’s manor tour. he’d specifically instructed choso to take you to the library and leave you there, as he knew midday was when kento decided to leave his office and head there. 
he had everything planned out perfectly. what he hadn’t counted on though, was kento’s pure stupidity. 
upon being seated in his office chair, kento picked up a quill, shuffling through the stacks of paper as he searched for a blank one. there, he scrawled a journal entry. his friend, haibara, had suggested a journal back when kento was a teen, though he’d had filled the pages of the journal haibara gifted him long ago. 
his journal was normal teen angsts that he entered in frequently,  but nowadays, his entries were far and few between, scribbled upon waste paper scrambled on his messy desk and then shoved into the bottom drawer, never to be read again. 
his quill moved faster than the words could process in his brain. kento had not felt any emotion in a long time, and now this girl–, you–, had brought upon more than he knew how to deal with. his eyes droopy and tired, kento abandoned the page as he stumbled his way up to the bed, disregarding his formal wear and simply passing out on his bed. 
surprise is kento’s first thought of the day -  most nights are spent pouring over documents and estate affairs in his office. most nights are spent half-slumped into his office chair until he hears yuuji and megumi chasing each other around the halls. but tonight, he'd woken up in his own bed, so he decides to savor it, before he must get up and bear the responsibility of his world on his shoulders. 
it’s then, when kento is enjoying the feel of his downy mattress and not of his hard wooden chair, that it gets sent. satoru  hadn’t planned to find his note, truly. he had gone into the office to wake kento up as he had done every morning he stayed with the itadori’s’ and when he opened the door, there was no kento. 
he was gone. and so satoru walked over to the desk, his eyes squinting at a note written on yellowing and half-ripped paper. it was in kento’s messy chicken-scratch, and after a quick read, satoru shoved it in his pocket anyways and exited the room, sealing it with the itadori family crest and sending it off with the rest of the post for the morning.
you receive the letter mid-day during your afternoon tea with nobara. the two of you hadn’t spoken about the quarrel between your and kento, and you were grateful for it. nobara instead spoke about her suitors, providing you a nice distraction from the anger, and slight regret, that bubbled in your chest.
“a letter for the miss.” your butler states, entering the room. it’s placed on the table next to you, and you pick it up gingerly, frowning at the state of it.
“if it could even be called that.” you mumble, “the paper is eons old.” you recognize the crest immediately, as it had been adorned around the manor you had spent time at yesterday. an ugly feeling claws its way up your throat.
“what is it?” nobara peers curiously, but you hold it away, hoping that satoru had just used their stationary and that it was not a letter from kento.“hey!” “give me a moment, i am reading, nobara.” you hiss out as you run your fingers along, squinting to read the handwriting. 
it has been ages since i have written, and unfortunately, as all others, .i am writing in a state of great frustration and  vexation. her recent behavior has been most unbecoming, and i cannot help but feel incensed by her actions. how could she be so rash... so .. thoughtless in her choice of words? i suppose she has every reason to, though. i have not been the kindest man. then again, when have i ever? 
and yet, despite this soul-encompassing anger, there is a sense of admiration. i cannot tell if it is admiration for her sheer audacity, or admiration for the lady herself. her fiery spirit and unyielding determination are truly remarkable, and i cannot help but be drawn to such a force of nature, as much as i would like to deny it. 
perhaps it is my own stubbornness that blinds me to the true nature of my feelings, but it is becoming harder and harder for me to fight the notion that there is an underlying sense of attraction that persists. there is just some thing about the way that she carries herself. despite almost every interaction we have had being negative, i have left each one with a tightening feeling in my chest. 
i believe it is regret. it’s a feeling i am used to these days. the other night i could not sleep, how could i? i’ve treated her with such disdain that if my mother were still alive im sure she'd scold me. 
yet i cannot stop thinking of moments ago. it was the way she simply just disrespected me in my own home, without a care in the world, and looked so utterly ethereal doing it. her beauty makes me stupid and loose with my tongue.
she insulted me and she did it with grace and a bewitching voice. there is just something about that girl that i cannot forget and i -
it cuts off there, the quill mark running off the page indicating that his hand had slipped. without another word, you fold the letter, holding it neatly in your hand as you walk out of the manor, ignoring nobara’s calls. 
the itadori manor was across town, about thirty minutes walking. you had left without a coat and it was cold, but you pursued on, the hand holding the paper trembling. you needed an answer.
you made the walk in twenty and your knuckles rapped upon the door loudly. a butler opened and after a quick explanation of your business, you made your way to kento’s office. you slammed open the door and surprisingly, based on the way the boys speak of him, he was not in his office.
you were going to talk to him one way or another, and you wandered your way around the manor, angrily stomping. it was only when you’d made your way back to his office that you bumped into him. he had clearly just woken up and had haphazardly dressed himself. his hair was messy and he looked sleepy, but you did not care that you were probably going to bother.
“what is your issue?” you hiss, stepping towards him. “have i done something to offend you? am i just that awful of a person that you deem it necessary to toy with me?” “what- what are you talking about?” he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, “and why is my office door open? was this you?” you ignore the question, instead unfolding the paper from it’s crumpled home in your pocket. “perhaps it is my own stubbornness that blinds me to the true nature of my feelings, but it is becoming harder and harder for me to fight the notion that there is an underlying sense of attraction that persists.” you read, your voice wavering not once despite the shaking of your limbs and your heart.
his own heart stops. it stops beating completely and kento is pretty sure that this is what death feels like. “how did you get that?” his lip wavers, despite the rigid tone that escapes his mouth. “where did you get that from?”
“oh so now you are playing games with me?” you scoff, throwing your hands in the air, “seriously! you are a joke, kento nanami.” “is that why my office was open?” his eyes squint, and he looks terrified for a moment at his next thought. “did you go through my things?” “of course not! you sent this to me, did you not? stamped with the itadori seal, am i wrong?” you shove it in his face and you’re right, of course. the letter is stamped. “i am just wondering. why? why me? why did you choose to amuse yourself by picking on me? there are so many other women who would die for any attention given by someone of your stature, and yet you choose to belittle me!”
“it was not my intention, you have to believe me.” he sighed, adjusting the glasses that sit low on his nose, “i might as well be honest.” he clenches a hand by his side before taking a breath. “the first good thing you have done ever.” you scoff, and he bites his lip. he decides looking anywhere but your face would be a better choice at this time, so he settles his eyes on your collarbone.
“i was a fool. i will admit my faults, and there are many–- too many to name. believe me when i say this, i have never been more enchanted to meet a person in all my miserable years. i blundered, my jealousy overcoming me at the sight of you dancing with satoru and i continued to make a laughing stock of myself with each interaction. please, this is no scheme or ploy as you may think, i am genuinely and utterly enamored with you. there is no reason i should have treated you the way i did, but you make me absolutely stupid.” his chest is heaving, and you can see his hands shaking by his side. “please, i know this is sudden, but i would like to court you–-”
“you are a madman.” you whisper, cutting him off. “you are stupider than i thought you were if you think that for one second i am going to believe any display of affection from you, no matter how wordy. you have done nothing but make me feel as though i am nothing to you, and for that, you are the last man on earth i would ever marry. you are arrogant, disrespectful, and most of all, you have no empathy for the feelings of others. i would rather bring shame upon my family before i accept any proposal from you.” 
it’s silent between the two of you. he’s finally made eye contact - and you’re breathing just as heavily as he is. your lips are parted, and so are his, and he is fighting the urge to lean in right then and there.
the moment is ruined when you crumple the note in your hand and place it on his chest. he comes up to grab your hand, holding it close to his chest as he grabs the paper. his hands are warm, and they fit perfectly around yours. you both realize it. 
part of him hopes that you will take back your words, but it is far too late for that. it was too late for him the minute you asked him about dancing. 
“have a good life, lord nanami.” you say nothing else, dropping your hand and turning on your heels away from him. 
he takes a step. kento wonders if you would take him if he chased after you and begged you on his hands and knees. 
it’s silent after that. his ears are ringing and his chest is hot and burning in the spot where your hand just rested. he feels his heart sink to his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in years. it’s not disappointment and it’s not regret - it’s a yearning and a longing for something he won’t ever have. 
he needs to talk to his friend. it’s not a want, but a need. his friend would know what to do. he always did. within fourty minutes of your departure, the boys, satoru, and kento have packed up, abandoning the manor as quickly as they came.
the boys were quite prepared as they knew their guardian so well. it was not the first nor the last time that their guardian would relocate them in hopes of escaping whatever it is he seems to be running from. they had not even unpacked their bags, simply shoving the necessities back in and looking solemnly as kento took his own horse, not even riding with them. 
kento arrives far earlier than the carriages do and without another word, he hands off the horse to a housemaid and stalks off. he does not care that he has not eaten today or that it looks like it is going to rain; he needs to talk his friend. 
when kento was thirteen, he and his friend explored the woods behind their house together in an attempt to soothe kento's fear of the woods. for as long as he could remember, kento always had a fear of the unknown, and the sprawling landscape behind their house certainly did not help.
kento entered the woods hand in hand with haibara. haibara was explaining the different trees and flowers they saw, right until they stumbled across a small clearing, barely big enough for an outdoor lunch. it was right off the beaten path and was only a five minute walk from the forest entrance. 
he remembers being excited that this was the only spot not covered with grass - as there was only a small little circle sprawling with magnolia flowers. his friend said that it was beautiful that in the woods kento had found so scary there was a small, serene place with beautiful flowers. 
“if you had not come in here with me, neither of us would have stumbled upon this.” haibara had smiled up at him that day, “see, kento? there is beauty in this forest you fear.”
kento laughed and called it cliche and predictable, but now as he sits in front of haibara's grave in the middle of these magnolia flowers, he knows his friend lied. there has been no beauty in anything since his friend died, and everything to him has been unknown. kento’s been living in fear. 
upon entering the tiny field, there was one stone carving in the middle. kento sits right next to it, pulls his knees to his chest, and despite the neck pain that ached, he placed his head on the stone.
“hello, my friend.” kento begins, “i am sorry i was gone for so long. we went up into the town for the spring season. it was all satoru’s idea of course, you know him, and the boys were excited– - so i had to. i have done nothing but disappoint them and i hoped i would regain their favor by bringing them to the ton.” he sighs, his breath shaking. “i met a girl there. she is intelligent and gorgeous and kind. i know, i know, i always told you i would never marry and i would travel the world alone and explore. since you- since you left, i have had to reconsider. the itadori’s’ were placed in my care and .. and so- so, i thought it would be a good idea to socialize and get myself out there. i will need a wife eventually.” his voice cracks, and kento removes his head from the stone placing it in his knees as he cries. “the first time i met her, she was standing on the wall and she looked so, so beautiful, but of course-” he lets out a hiccuping sob, “she was not interested in me. who would be?” he laughs dryly, “i was… upset, and i said somethingsome thing that i did not mean and my pride would not allow me to apologize. the next time i saw her, she had your book in your hands. your favorite. sometimes i wonder why we did not bury you with it. i saw her and i got upset and i insulted her and at dinner i did it again. then, i confessed to her and she rejected me, and god, it is the worst emotion i have felt since you died. i feel sick and it hurts and i just,” he whimpers, “i just wish you were here still, haibara.” 
there is silence. of course there is. he is talking to a stone.
“i really, really messed it up, and i wish i could take it all back because she is absolutely wonderful.” he sighs, “of course, it is much too late for that.” still, silence. “i must get going, there is much to do.” he stands up and sighs, wiping the tears from his eyes quickly. “i will come to visit you again soon.”
true to his word, kento visits his friend everyday for the next week. some days he talks to him and tells him how choso and yuuji are doing, others he sits there and cries, and few times he has brought paper out to write.
there are hundreds of speeches he has written out and almost sent to you, expressing himself, and all of them have ended up crumpled and thrown into the trash. you asked him to leave you alone, and as much as it is killing him, he would rather die lonely than face any sort of argument with you again.
he decides he needs a weekend away, so after packing his bags and leaving the boys in the care of satoru, he sets off to a small cabin his father owned in the woods not too far from the estate. far enough that he'll be left alone, but close enough that if needed, he can return within a day.
yuuji, yearning for yuko, sends a letter the week before kento leaves. it asks her to come over, and yuko would have agreed almost immediately if not for the fact that she needs a chaperone.
you refuse immediately. “no, yuko, my answer is final. i refuse to visit the itadori’s’. please, forgive me.”
“please, friend.” she pleads, “no one else is available and yuu said that kento would be going on vacation! you would not even have to deal with him, please.”
“you are sure kento will not be there?” you raise a brow, the idea becoming a bit sweeter now that kento is not there.
“i swear. look.” she holds out yuuji’s letter, pointing out where he mentions kento’s absence. 
yuko’s eyes brim with hope as you reconsider. “fine. i will go with you, but just for the weekend.”
you arrive friday evening, when the sun has set and dinner has been served. kento had just left that morning according to the boys, so you will be free of him and his incessant behavior.
some small part of you ached though, for their constant bickering. the look in his eyes when he'd told you he loved you has haunted you, and caused many sleepless nights.
 you’re beginning to wonder if you had made the wrong decision. 
he was wealthy, sure, but one could tell he cared for his wards. he was intelligent and he had an affinity for the arts, and was well-spoken. but does any of that really outweigh his behavior? you wonder.
it was as if your thinking about kento summoned him. 
“oh. hello.” his voice sounds strained and you turns around to find kento standing there, his fists clenched at his side. “i was unaware you would be here.”
“i did not mean to intrude. yuuji and choso told me that you were gone for the weekend. i will make haste and leave as soon as i can.” you stand up, dusting off your dress. “my apologies, mr. nanami.”
“kento.” he clears his throat, “please. just call me kento. you do not have to leave, either. i was going for a walk around the grounds before i retreat to my office. i will be out of your way, as per your wish.” he takes a small bow, refusing to meet your eyes. “it's.. pleasure … it's a pleasure to see you again.” he stutters, and then turns away quickly.
“mr. nana–- kento.” you reach out to tap his shoulder, and the jolt through his body does not go unnoticed by you., “may i walk with you?”
he looks nervous, and his eyes flit around. “of course. i was going to.. visit my friend. i am,” he gulps, taking a deep breath, “i am sure he would love to meet you.”
“oh.” you smile softly, “i have not seen him around, though, i have only been here for a day.”
“i have told him much about you.” his voice is soft, as the two of you begin your walk. you are so close in proximity that your hands keep brushing together, and everytime they do, you watch his breathing seize.
you think you have killed him when you grab his hand and he stumbles over his own footing. “we should– - you should not be holding my hand, you are.. you are eligible and i- i am not courting you and–-”
“do you want me to stop?” you ask softly. in response, his hand squeezes yours softly as if to say, ‘please don't let go.’
you walk in a comfortable silence for another couple of minutes, hand in hand, before reaching the small magnolia field. 
“here we are.” he clears his throat, letting go of your hand. “my. .. my friend. i know, it is embarrassing that i speak to a gravestone, but. .. i have no one else to confide in.” he looks for any worry or fear in your face, and he finds nothing. nothing but compassion and kindness.
“i do not think it is silly.” you smile softly, “i think it is perfectly alright. that is your friend, after all.” you crouches down next to the stone, brushing your fingers over his name. “haibara. it is very nice to meet you, mr. haibara. there is no doubt in my mind that you were an excellent man.”
“you are going to dirty your dress.” kento frowns, “you do not have to sit.” his heart is pounding a million miles a minute, and he thinks it could not be any louder. he is sure you can hear it. 
“nonsense.” you smile, waving him off. “it would be rude of me to stand and speak to him.” 
watching your speak to his closest friend’s gravestone with such compassion makes him tear up. he knew that he loved you for a reason, and the fact that you started speaking to haibara with no questions asked simply hammered it home for him.
“i am only here for a day or two more,” kento is thrown out of his thoughts by your voice, “but i must say this estate is lovely. i do not even think my home rivals this.” you laugh, and the sound flutters in his stomach, “it is gorgeous.”
there is silence for a moment as you looks up at kento. he's standing over you with his fists clenched and in near tears and you just shake your head. “you should be very proud of kento.” you says loud enough for him to hear, as you make eye contact with him, “he is doing a wonderful job raising yuuji and choso. you have a wonderful friend.”
kento turns his back from you, but you can see the shaking of his shoulders and hear him clear his throat.. “my apologies, please, excuse me.” he sniffles, “i am a little overwhelmed.”
it hits you now. kento has every reason to be as cynical and as rude as he is– - life has not been goodwell to him. he has grown up without a mother, and halfway through his life his father passed, and then his closest friend. add to that two wards that were thrown on top of his responsibilities and you have one struggling kento nanami.
“he is a wonderful man.” you project your voice so you can still hear him, “and i have been entirely nonsensical about him.” 
“pardon?” his voice cracks, making him cringe, but you still looks at him with that same soft expression. he is glad you cannot see his face right now, for all you would see is his despair. 
“i was wrong about you.” you stand, placing a hand on his shoulder. his back is still turned to you, and you respect his space, staying out of sight. “i was entirely wrong.” 
he closes his eyes and prays– - prays that this means what he thinks it does. “three words from you will silence me forever.” he whispers brokenly, “if you are not going to say it and mean it, please, just say it once so that i may replay it in my head for when you are gone.”
“i cannot.” his shoulders fall and his stomach sinks. you slides your hand down his arm to reach his hand, and  you squeeze. “i refuse to be the first time i declare my affections for you to be said to your back.”
he whips around almost immediately, and standing on your tiptoes, you cups his face with both of your hands. your thumbs wipe the tears from underneath his eyes.
“hello, handsome.” you smile and his head leans into your hand as he laughs with a little sniffle. “your smile suits you. i wish i could see it more often.”
he tries to duck his face away where you cannot see but you keeps it sturdy in your hands. “do not shy away from me, i want to see your face. there you are.” you smiles., “i apologize for my misunderstanding of your character. i said some harsh things that i am realizing now that i did not mean, and i am hoping you could forgive me. i am pleading.”
“you do not have to apologize. ever. it is my fault for being immature. my answer remains the same as it did a few weeks ago– - if you will have me, then i will be yours. no-now, and forever.” he rushes his words and you let go of his face with a nod and he blinks at you, his face swelling with joy. 
“it is a deal, then.” you laughs, “forever is quite a long time though, kento. 
“it will not be nearly enough time for me to spend with you. there will never be enough time.” he lifts your chin up to look at you. “god, you were plucked out of my dreams and put into my arms. i am the luckiest man on earth.”
you swat his arm gently., “you are magnificent with your words when they are not shooting to kill,.” you say lightly. your cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling, but you do not care.
“my words will be soft and sweet for you, always,.” he tucks a piece of hair behind your ears, “from this point on.”
“i was just about to mention how they have not been in the past.”
“and for that, i will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” he kisses your hand, and keeps eye contact the entire time. “every minute of every day. i love you.” 
there it was.
“i love you,” he kisses your knuckles, “i love you,” he kisses your palm, “i love you,” up your arm, “i love you,” on your left cheek, “i love you,” right cheek, “i love you,” nose, “i love you.”
and finally, his hands coming up to cradle your head, he presses a promising kiss to your lips.  “i love you. forever.” 
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