#and I know that like your partner is supposed to be there for you through the hood and bad

[biteyoubiteme]

don't you want me?

soobin x fem!reader

synopsis: don't you want your boyfriend?

warnings: 🔞!!! this is just smut no plot lol, some nipple play, soobin calls reader bunny, no protection, creampie, fingering, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 0.9k

an: thank you so much saturn for requesting! I hope you like this one sorry it’s short ;-; <3333

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

had only been a day since the last time you had seen him, snuggled up in his bed after he had tired himself out with using you. It wasn't uncommon for him to go round after round, at least not with you. No partner had ever made him feel this needy, always hard even after one go. His whiny pleas to keep going mixed with his scrunched brow always worked to get you to agree. He was always so good at begging. 

You had planned a study date, your bag weighing down your shoulder as you knocked on his door. Sometimes you even got some studying done, only it was usually when you were in public and not plagued by the thought of his bedroom only being a foot away. Because you were also to blame for always getting him started, purposefully wearing things he couldn't keep his eyes off of, and brushing his thigh every other time you had the chance to. 

Now was no different, although it wasn't intentional, you really did think you would get some kind of studying done.Dressed down in your pajamas, oversized shirt covering your shorts enough to give soobin the illusion that you had none on in the first place. He pulls your bag from you, having enough control to place it down on the coffee table before tugging you down with him onto the couch. 

“You didn't even say hi!” you're giggling, his kisses peppering down your neck, hips pushing you into the sofa, hands pushing up your shirt. 

“Hi, hello, I'm sorry, I just missed you,” he's not even trying to hide the fact he's already hard, that he's been hard just thinking about you coming over. 

“We both have exams tomorrow,” you try to remind him, fingers brushing through his hair as his lips are finding half-faded marks he's sucked onto your skin only the day before. “We should really study,” 

“Don't you want me?” he asks, nose bumping your ear, hand sliding down the outside of your thigh. “because all I could think about was the way you felt under me,” he hooks his hand under your knee pulling your leg enough so that he can sink his hips closer to yours. “how am I supposed to pay attention to anything other than you?” 

All you can respond with is a moan when he presses his bulge against you, dragging his hips to put pressure right on your clothed clit. “please bunny, please,” 

You didn't need much begging to get stripped, even less begging when you finally felt him slip into you. His whining gasps fanning over your skin, one hand keeps him up and the other squeezes your breast, thumb running over your peaked nipple. “Look at your perfect tits, all for me,” 

He's trying to hold back, to draw out the pleasure as long as he can but it's impossible when buried in you. Warm walls sucking him in, begging for him to just pound into you, push you into the sofa, and just take over without any thoughts on his mind. He wants to, just thinking about it makes him whimper, “Tell me you missed me, didn't you miss me?” 

“Yes-” you gasp, arms wrapped around his neck, the heels of your feet digging into his ass pushing him closer to you. “I missed you so much,” 

“I missed your perfect pussy, bunny, always so ready and wet for me,” all of his rambling broken up by throaty moans, “I can't stop thinking about you, filling you up,” 

His rhythmic thrusts press so deep inside you, leaving you speechless with every drag. But he's not paying attention to getting you off just yet, his body disconnecting from his mind as he beats his hips against yours. He feels his orgasm building and knows any second he will cum. Enough to make it so easy to keep going, stuffing it all right back in, just thinking about it has him whimpering in your ear. 

“Are you going to cum for me?” you ask, his body falling closer to you, always wanting to be pressed as close as he can get when he cums.

He’s nodding into your neck, breathy whines mixing with his answer. “Yes, oh god- please,” every sloppy thrust followed by his little ah-ah’s. “You feel so good, I’m-” he feels his balls draw up, his hips stuttering to a stop as he lets out streams of cum into your waiting cunt, cock pulsing as he moans into your neck. It isn't until he pulls out and catches his breath that he realizes that you didn't finish, too caught up in chasing his own high. 

“I'm so sorry bunny, let me take care of you as good as you take care of me,” 

He gave you no time to realize the switch, his long fingers shoving into your sensitive entrance, pushing back in all his cum as he pumps in time with his previous thrusts. He uses his other hand to fiercely rub at your clit. The stimulation makes your back arch, hands scratching at the fabric of the couch. “Look at my pretty bunny,” he coos, the squelching sounds from all your slick mixing with your moans. “Are you going to cum for me?” he asks, using your own words on you. 

“Yes- yes-” It's almost too much for you, his fingers not stopping even as you cum. You're a mess of stammering words and faltering breaths, trying to find yourself as your knees try to close in around him. 

Just watching you fall apart is enough to get him semi-hard again, ready for another round. He slathers his wet fingers over your entrance, keeping as much wetness as possible from sliding out. “Just one more please-” 

“Soobin our exams-” 

“Please, I'll be quick, don't you want me?” 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask! and thank you to @hyukascampfire for being the sweetest angel who ever lived, personally taking the time to read this for me ily. 🤍

[euniexenoblade]

I debated if I wanted to mock this post/screenshot for a couple hours and i decided I was just gonna go in line by line and dissect it

"being poly is a choice you make. not an identity you cannot change."

I disagree. I struggled with this through most of my teens and early twenties. The desire to be with multiple people was strong and the concept that I couldn't be with all of them was very confusing and hurtful not just to me, but the people I was with. Had I been taught what polyamory is younger and had known that monogamy is not actually the only way you're allowed to be, i'd have probably been able to stop struggling with this much sooner. Do I think this was as big of a mental struggle as being gay or trans? Nah. But it was certainly an issue that ate away at me.

As much as polyamory was a choice, so was me being trans was a choice. I would say both are inherent to who I am. Just because something isn't inherent to your identity, doesn't mean it isn't inherent to mine.

The second paragraph is a gross misinterpretation of what was said. I said abused poly people in relationships they cannot escape will likely cheat when they do find love. The same is true for monogamous people who cannot escape relationships. This happens all the fucking time. To women. To gay people. To trans people. To poly people. This is so utterly common it's an overused trope in story telling.

"OBVIOUSLY abusive situations aside"

The post was about abusive situations. You're already throwing away the core concept to the post.

"why are you staying with someone you are completely incompatible with"

This shows how this person has no value for relationships. Just because you realize you're poly doesn't mean your feelings for an individual disappears. You want to see if this relationship can still work, whether monogamous or polyamorous. Not to mention so many people would find themselves homeless or penniless by just leaving. There's no actual understanding of love and relationships and the heart here.

"you don't need to pursue any kind of relationship ever"

And gay people don't have to be in gay relationships. Trans people don't have to transition. Doesn't change the longing to experience what you want to experience.

"where exclusivity is agreed upon"

I know poly people who entered relationships under the premise the other person was poly, just for that person to decide "actually I'm monogamous, and I'll kill myself if you leave me." You have no understanding or empathy.

"wanting to be poly does not excuse cheating what is wrong with you people"

Look I agree cheating sucks and violates trust, but acting like it's the worst thing in the history of ever is just childish. I get it hurts but at the end of the day, you do not own another person's body and sometimes shit happens. I just do not care what other people do with their own bodies and you cannot make me believe I'm supposed to care. If my husband goes and fucks someone without my permission (which he commonly does) then that's rad. I hope he has fun. If my wife goes and fucks someone I don't know (which she regularly does) then fuck yeah I hope they both had fun. Y'all are too fucking uptight.

Also the tags

The "monogamous people are losers and shouldn't get a say in anything" was something I said in reply to a heckler on my 'monogamous people often abuse poly partners' post. To take it solely as 100% serious opinion is foolish and childish.

"I cheated cuz waaa"

I've never cheated on any partner. The post isn't even saying it's ok cheat, it's saying that poly people get branded as cheaters whether they do or don't. But I'll say it here just because it's so controversial that it pisses losers off: it's ok for polyamorous people to cheat on monogamous partners. Get out before they abuse you.

[aventurineswife]

may i please request sampo (you choose the other characters) with a dog hybrid gender neutral reader? in the sampo one, can the reader fall asleep on top of him in dog fashion?

Lay Your Head, Rest Your Heart

Tags: Sampo x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Dog Hybrid!Reader, Fluff, Found Family, Light Humor, Comfort, Slow-Burn Romance, Protective (?).

Warnings: Minor gambling references (Aventurine's part), Slight teasing and playful banter, Fluffy physical affection (ear ruffling, head pats, cuddling)

Sampo strolled through the bustling marketplace, his jacket fluttering with every smooth stride. His eyes gleamed with mischief, darting from stall to stall, calculating potential profits. Business was good, but it got even better when he had an adorable partner in crime—or, rather, a partner in occasional chaos. That partner was you, a loyal, dog hybrid who, despite your wagging tail and puppy-like energy, often brought him a surprising amount of good fortune.

“Sampo! Look at this!” you barked excitedly, holding up a shiny trinket you’d found at a nearby stall.

Sampo chuckled, running a gloved hand through his hair. “Nice find, pup. But remember, the best treasures aren’t the ones you buy—they’re the ones you ‘acquire.’” He winked, leaning down to ruffle your ears.

You scrunched your nose but didn’t argue. He had a point. Sampo always knew how to turn a simple situation into something profitable—or at least amusing.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. The marketplace had begun to quiet down, but the day’s adventures left you utterly exhausted. You let out a long yawn, your tail wagging lazily behind you.

Sampo glanced over, smirking. “Tired already? You’re supposed to be the energetic one!”

“Shut up.” you muttered, plopping down on a soft patch of grass.

Sampo joined you, leaning back on his elbows. “I’ve got to admit, you make the day a lot more interesting. Not every merchant can say their partner chased off a Silvermane Guard by barking at them like a mad pup.”

You grinned, your sharp teeth glinting in the fading light. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Before Sampo could reply, you crawled over and flopped onto him, your head resting against his chest. He froze, blinking in surprise.

“Uh…not that I mind, but what’s this about?” he asked, though his voice was softer than usual.

“Comfy...” you murmured, nuzzling into his jacket. Your ears twitched slightly, and your tail wagged a couple of times before going still.

Sampo sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Of course you’d use me as a pillow. What else am I good for, huh?”

Despite his teasing tone, he didn’t move. If anything, he adjusted his position to make sure you were comfortable, even if it meant lying awkwardly on the uneven ground.

As you drifted off, Sampo stared up at the starry sky, the usual glint of mischief in his mint-green eyes replaced with something softer. He reached out with a gloved hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“You’re a weird one, you know that?” he whispered, though there was no malice in his tone—just quiet affection. “Not many people trust ol’ Sampo enough to sleep on me. Guess you’re either braver or crazier than the rest.”

The gentle rhythm of your breathing was his only response.

For once, Sampo didn’t think about profits or schemes. He simply lay there, enjoying the warmth of your presence and the rare tranquility that came with it.

“Guess I’ll let you off the hook this time,” he murmured, closing his eyes with a faint smile. “But don’t expect me to make this a habit, pup.”

Yet, even as he said it, he knew he wouldn’t mind if you did.

Aventurine adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, their rose-tinted lenses catching the low light of the casino floor. The clinking of chips and the whirring of roulette wheels filled the air, but none of it distracted him. With a flourish, he placed his final bet on the roulette table, the corner of his mouth lifting in his signature confident smirk.

"Let’s make this one count." he murmured, leaning back as the wheel spun.

Beside him, you—his ever-loyal dog hybrid companion—sat cross-legged on a velvet bench, your tail wagging idly as you observed the chaos of the casino.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” you asked, your ears perking up as someone cheered in the distance.

Aventurine chuckled, turning his gaze towards you. “Tired? Of course not. The thrill of the gamble is what keeps life interesting, darling.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. “You and your dramatic flair.”

“Flair is what makes me charming.” he countered, his voice dripping with amusement.

As the roulette wheel slowed, the ball clicked into place. A chorus of gasps rippled through the table as Aventurine’s number came up. He leaned forward with a mock gasp of his own, gathering the chips with practiced ease.

“Would you look at that? Lady Luck smiles upon me once again.” he said, sending you a wink.

You shook your head, unable to hide your grin. “You’re unbelievable.”

The casino emptied as the night wore on, leaving the two of you to wander back to Aventurine’s suite. It was as extravagant as one would expect from someone like him—gold accents, plush furniture, and a panoramic view of the glittering cityscape below.

You flopped onto the oversized couch, your tail thumping softly against the cushions. “I’m exhausted. How do you have so much energy after all that?”

Aventurine removed his choker, draping his coat over a nearby chair. “It’s all about pacing yourself. Though, if you’re tired, I suppose we could call it an early night.”

“Early? It’s nearly morning!” you teased, stretching out with a yawn.

He chuckled, grabbing a blanket from a nearby cabinet. “Fair enough.”

You watched as he settled into an armchair, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose as he sorted through the chips he’d won earlier. The sound of them clicking together was oddly soothing, lulling you into a sense of calm.

Before long, you found yourself sliding off the couch and padding over to him. Without a word, you curled up on his lap, your head resting against his chest.

Aventurine stiffened for a moment, caught off guard. “Comfortable, are we?” he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and fondness.

“Very...” you murmured, already half-asleep.

He sighed, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he draped the blanket over you both. His fingers absently brushed through your hair, his usual bravado replaced with quiet contentment.

“For someone who claims I’m ‘unbelievable,’ you seem to trust me an awful lot.” he mused, his voice low.

You didn’t respond, your breathing slow and steady as sleep claimed you.

Aventurine leaned back in his chair, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you. In all his years of gambling, scheming, and taking risks, he’d never expected to find someone who made him feel this… grounded.

“Not bad for a gambler’s companion...” he whispered, the usual sharpness in his voice replaced by something gentler.

The roulette of life kept spinning, but for now, he was content to stay right where he was—at least until morning.

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 6

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.5k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: You can't avoid it any longer -- it's time for you and Din to talk.

a/n: I feel like this is the moment many of you have been waiting for, lol. I'm very excited to see your reactions! See my notes at the end and on the masterlist about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: gen, ballet terms (see end notes and the masterlist for definitions and videos), a bit more angst (sorry), but they are going to talk!

Chapter 6

You thought about your conversation with Kuiil as you walked to your rehearsal with Adrian, as you stretched and practiced in your morning classes, and as you took the stage over the weekend in Vince’s piece in the mixed program. You thought about it as you watched Din and Yuna in the Balanchine ballet and as you did your PT for your ankles and as you talked with Talia about your role in Midsummer. You thought about it as you sat on the bus home at night, so tired and achy that you needed something to think about to keep you awake.

You thought about it so much you barely had time to think about anything else.

Was Kuiil right? Was Din more uncertain than frustrated? Was he finding it difficult to communicate and connect in a way he hadn’t before, at CBC? You thought about seeing him on stage with Yuna, and how effortless that had seemed. But Balanchine’s choreography, more than so many others, was so technical, so focused on precision. There was so much less room for the dancer in a ballet where all of the space was taken up by striving for technical perfection. 

In class, you let your eyes stray to Din for the first time in two weeks. You watched as he stretched and jumped and wondered if perhaps you had just been talking past each other.

What if he’s trying, and you simply haven’t realized it? What if he just doesn’t know how?

He’s never done this before, you reminded yourself. 

Your mind was swimming as you stepped into the studio for your fourth rehearsal with Kuiil. You found Din was already there, as usual, and tried not to stare as you worried over your questions. You resolved to be more observant, this time.

And this time, because you were looking for it, you finally saw what Kuiil was talking about.

More than once, as you danced, Din reached for you, literally and figuratively. You leapt past and he oriented his body towards yours, echoing your movement. He turned, but kept his eyes on you as he did. You could see him trying in the ways he knew, to shape his movements around yours, to showcase his partner on stage, but his discomfort with improvisation shone through. The problem was that all of his movements were so stylistically different from yours, that there was little for you to hold on to. And so the two of you struggled to react to each other, as Kuiil had asked.

You tried. You tried to respond to him, to react, but it threw both of you off. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to improvise so drastically. Suddenly the dance was disjointed, and you fell so badly out of step in trying to turn towards him when he moved away from you that you stumbled. 

The music stopped.

Din turned to look at Kuiil and you spun around to do the same. 

Kuiil simply looked at you both for a moment, and then sighed. “I have pushed you too much, I think, and forgotten the basics of partnership. And you will need to work together, to connect more deeply, as we begin the second movement.” You started to shake your head, but Kuiil held up his hand. “No. Here is what we will do, as you prepare for Midsummer and Swan Lake.”

And then he gave you homework.

…

“So, what, is Kuiil going to lock you in a room until you talk to each other?” Adrian’s voice was teasing, but you could tell he meant it.

“Not quite,” you said. “But instead of rehearsal next week we’re supposed to try to get to know each other. To talk.”

He smirked at you. “Ooooh, to talk.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes?” You poked him in the side and he yelped. “Stop teasing me and help me figure out what to talk to him about.”

He laughed. “I think you know what to talk about. You just have to figure out how to get him to talk at all.”

You shook your head. “He’s talked to me. Just not about… this.” You waved your arm at all of the problems you’d been having in rehearsal.

Adrian seemed to consider that for a moment. “You know, you’re right. He does talk to you, in a way he doesn’t talk to anyone else.” He furrowed his brow. “Maybe all you need to do is ask.”

…

You followed Adrian’s advice and started with simply asking Din to meet you at the rehearsal studio, without Kuiil, to talk. He agreed readily and you decided to take that as a good sign.

It was the week of Midsummer’s debut, and you were focused to the point of distraction on your role as Hermia. You appreciated it for taking your mind off of the disaster that was the pas de deux, though, and by the time you found yourself outside of the studio where you’d meet Din you realized you’d barely thought about the meeting at all.

(Well, not much. Not as much as the week before, at least.)

He was, as usual, already inside.

You closed the door behind you and dropped your bag and shoes before moving to join him where he sat with his back to the mirror. As you slid down beside him, he nodded in greeting. 

“So,” you said, when it became obvious Din wasn’t going to jump in first. “I think we both know what the problem is, but where do we start?”

You looked at Din and took a moment to observe him up close. He was staring straight ahead, but you didn’t think he was looking at anything in particular. He seemed too inside his own mind for that.

Just when you began to worry that you’d have to push him, that this wasn’t going to work because he wasn’t going to meet you halfway, he spoke.

“I’m sorry.” 

You blinked, startled — you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. Did he think you meant he was the problem?

“What? Din, no—”

He shook his head and finally turned to look at you. His expression was as closed to you as always. “No, I want to say this. Let me… let me say this. I should have told you this weeks ago, but I can’t…” he trailed off, but this time you didn’t interrupt. You turned slightly towards him on the floor, extending your left leg and drawing your right knee to your chest. You gave him your full attention. He looked down at his hands and continued, softly. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve been so worried that I won’t be able to… to let go of my training. To dance in any other way. To do anything else.” 

You wanted to reach out to him, but you were worried he would startle if you did. You laced your own fingers together and squeezed your hands around your knee.

“I can see the problems, but I don’t know how to fix them. I don’t know how to move like you do. I don’t know how to do anything but what I’ve always done. I don’t know…” Suddenly he looked up at you, and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sheer emotion in his eyes. “I want to dance this with you. I want to partner with you. But I can’t seem to figure out how — not because of you. Because of me.”

You were reaching before you could stop yourself and lightly rested your hand on his forearm. He didn’t startle, but he did look down at it, brow furrowed. You forced yourself to leave it there and squeezed his arm lightly. 

“Din, I…” you weren’t sure how to reassure him. You’d seen his discomfort in rehearsals and you knew this was new to him, even if he hadn’t told you so before. You decided to share your own worries instead, since he had just been so open with his own. “This is the biggest role I’ve ever gotten. I mean, you know I’ve got Hermia, and then the spring fairy in Cinderella… but I’ve never been chosen for something like this before. I’ve never had a chance like this.” He lifted his head and met your eyes again, and this time his eyes were soft. It encouraged you to continue. “And you’re so good, I’ve been so worried that I’m not…” you bit your lip and squeezed his arm again when he opened his mouth. You shook your head and he nodded, letting you continue. “That I’m not good enough. I’ve had bad reviews before and I’m not even a principal and I know there are people out there who think I’m not good enough to be one. I—”

This time, Din cut you off. “That’s absurd.” His tone was flat, like his point was so obvious he couldn’t believe he had to say it.

You blinked. “What?”

He tilted his head, his gaze dancing over your face. He covered your hand on his left arm with his right and squeezed. “Of course you deserve to be a principal. They should have already promoted you. Karga clearly wants to, anyway. You’re a beautiful dancer.”

Your mouth dropped open. “What?”

The corner of his mouth lifted in that barely-there smile and you felt your cheeks start to heat as his praise continued. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice me watching you. It wasn’t just for our homework. You’re… amazing. I don’t know how you put so much emotion into your dancing at the same time as so much such skill and technique. Like in Midsummer, everything you bring to Hermia, it’s…” His eyes scanned your face again, and you wondered if you were gaping at him. It felt like it. “It’s so real. And connected. I feel like a robot, compared to you. I’ve been trying to find that connection for myself, but…” he trailed off again and let his hand slip from where it covered your own. You took your hand back, too.

A connection, he said. “Um, thank you. Maybe…” you started, hesitant. He looked at you again. “Maybe we can help each other. Practice together, outside of our rehearsals.”

He nodded. You nodded back, and then you both laughed, a little. You’d never seen him laugh before and couldn’t help but stare.

You felt a bit shaky after all of that honesty and decided to lighten the air a little. “Ok, well, one thing we definitely need to do is get to know each other, right? So we’re comfortable together.��� He nodded, and his expression was so open you had to force yourself to keep going, rather than to simply marvel at the fact that he’d dropped his mask. For you. “So. How about we each get 10 questions, but we can pass if we need to. Ok?”

One side of his mouth lifted in a smile. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

You shrugged. “It’s a good way to get to know someone, especially when you have to dance with someone new.”

Din nodded. “Alright. You go first.”

Over the next half hour you learned that Din’s favorite color was black (“come on, really?” “Fine, my second favorite is green.”), he hated smart technology (“I don’t want my fridge to talk to me. I want it to be a fridge.”), and his favorite ballet he’d ever been in was, surprisingly, Giselle (“it’s not in the normal repertoire there, and they didn’t like how I danced it. But I did. It was the most free I’ve ever felt on stage.”).

You wanted to ask more about why he’d left CBC, but that felt like too much for your first real conversation. You did learn, though, that he had a son.

“Grogu,” he said, “that’s his name. He’s five. He loves watching ballet.” Din smiled a little, looking off into the distance. “I don’t know if he’ll want to dance, but at least he likes watching me do it.”

You smiled. He was more open when he talked about his son, who must have been the little boy you saw him with, back in December. “Sounds like he sits through it better than my family.”

Din laughed, and shook his head. “We’ll see if it changes as he gets older.”

“Is that why you’re always in such a hurry?”

He nodded. “My friend takes care of him during the day, but I hate leaving him for so long. She lives close by so I try to go home for lunch, on the weekends, or to pick him up from school.”

That made sense. A new understanding of Din was forming in your mind — not an avoidant, aloof principal dancer, but a father who wanted to spend time with his son as much as he wanted to dance. Someone with more on his mind than fitting into this new company — you imagined the move must have been difficult on Grogu, too. 

“How’s he settling in here?”

Din looked at you, that little half smile back on his lips. “Just fine. He likes his new kindergarten, he’s made some friends. Better than I even hoped, really.”

You nodded. “That’s good. I’m glad he’s liking it. I bet that was a difficult transition for him. And you.”

Din sighed. “A bit. But it was necessary.”

Before you could even consider asking what he meant by that, you both heard commotion in the hall. You checked the time and realized you needed to get to your next rehearsal. Din stood first and offered you his hand.

You slid your hand into his, and he squeezed it as he pulled you up. 

“This was a good idea,” he said, squeezing your hand again. “Do you think next week will go better?”

You nodded. “I think so. But do you want to meet beforehand, to talk about the choreography? Maybe figure out where we can find each other instead of missing each other.”

He nodded. “I’d like that.”

…

You felt lighter after your conversation with Din. You hadn’t solved the problem, of course, but you’d at least talked to each other. It felt like the air was clearer, now that you both knew the other was struggling in some way. Neither of you was alone in it.

Over the weekend you focused on Midsummer — it was a big deal for you, getting cast as Hermia. You were excited to dance through her turmoil. She was so torn, as a character, and you wanted to portray that on stage. 

As you prepared and stretched on Friday night, you thought about what Din had said — that he couldn’t figure out how to dance in a new way, and that he felt like a robot. You shook your head. A robot? You weren’t sure what he was feeling while he danced, but Din never looked like a robot when he was performing. He’d said, too, that he loved being in Giselle, an overall more emotional performance than much of CBC’s usual repertoire. That he’d felt free. 

You thought about his face, every time you’d seen behind the mask, and you knew he could do it. You just had to help him figure out how to find that connection again, and how to lower the mask more while he was performing.

As you stepped out on stage that night, you let that certainty ground you. As you performed your variation, you’d never felt more like you were floating.

...

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a/n: they talked!!! what do we think?

Pas de deux & partnering -- Partnering in ballet is hard! There has to be a lot of trust and communication between partners, even though you don't necessarily need to be like best friends. These two are so advanced and have been in companies for so long that they are able to jump into something like this, but they still have to establish a partnering relationship, which is tough! To give you an idea of just some of what goes into partnering, here's a video of "beginning tips" (skip to around ~12:00 for some interesting stuff on balance). Din is used to verrrrry formal partnering, and that is some of the reason for their communication issues.

Midsummer - reader is dancing the role of Hermia in A Midsummer's Night Dream, which can go to either a principal or a soloist, just depending on the company. Here's a nice overview of the two acts and the ballet from the San Francisco Ballet. Here's a video of a dancer breaking down the role. Here's a couple examples of Hermia's famous variation (solo): one, two. Hermia has other big moments in the ballet but I've mostly been mentioning reader prepping for the solo. Companies might also spread out the roles over different nights or weekends -- in this case reader has Hermia for one weekend, like Adrian has Puck for one weekend (which isn't really mentioned in the fic because I didn't think it was relevant). (Is it a little unbelievable that reader is so unsure about her possible promotion if she got this role? Maybe. Soloists could get this role, especially a first soloist!)

Spring fairy - reader is dancing the role of the spring fairy in Cinderella, too. This and Midsummer are big story ballets that would draw an audience. Here's another two performances of the spring fairy variation and all of the fairies in one video from a 2003 Royal Ballet production. Spring starts ~2:30. The wiki page has a nice overview of the numbers in each act, so you can see where the fairies come in. The wiki lists 4 acts, though, and most companies do it like ABT I think -- with 2 acts. And here's a full length recording.

Giselle - Din mentions this briefly and we'll learn more later, but here's an overview of the ballet. (it's one of my favs)

tag list coming in a reblog!

[dreamdragonkadia]

a/n: Something something Percy and vacation, because we all know the poor guy deserves a break. For some reason, I have this entire short series of Percy and his partner in Hawaii floating around in my head. Surfboards, shaved ice, and a lot of sunburn jokes (because you know Nico would never let this go). Honestly, it’s the idea of him being both so in his element with the water and so hilariously out of his depth when it comes to the whole “vacation” thing.

daughter of hades! reader

For as much as you were your father's daughter, the sun seemed to give you the perfect tan—unlike any other child of Hades. (RIP Nico, your lobster-colored skin will never be forgotten.) At least it usually did. This time, you were pretty sure you'd leave the water with a good sunburn, judging by the relentless warmth soaking into your skin. But you couldn't bring yourself to leave your surfboard. Not with the way your sunglasses fit snuggly on your nose, nor when the waves were so perfect, lapping against your legs and carrying you with a kind of ease you'd been craving for weeks.

This whole trip was a much-needed vacation after weeks of college exams and late-night stress eating. The only thing keeping you sane during those grueling study sessions was the promise of seeing Percy again. Long-distance relationships were complicated as hell—ironic, given your family ties—but somehow, the two of you made it work. Even going from opposite ends of the world to just two states away hadn't magically solved the struggle of missing him every single day. But him attending New Rome University did make things easier when it came to shadow travel.

So, when your semester ended, you made it your mission to convince your boyfriend that a trip to Hawaii would solve all your problems. It was the ultimate win-win situation. You got a week on the beach, Percy got to try out his water skills in style, and both of your families got a much-needed break. Plus, it wasn’t every day that the son of Poseidon got to show off in the Pacific. Plus, this whole trip was going on Daddy's credit card anyways.

The sound of a familiar laugh cut through the rhythmic crash of waves, and you glanced toward the shoreline. Percy stood there, grinning ear to ear, holding what looked like a painfully large plate of shaved ice. He waved it in the air as if to say, Hurry up, or I’m eating this all myself. Typical.

"You're lucky I like you," you muttered to yourself with a grin, lying flat on the board and paddling toward the beach. The salty spray stung your eyes, but it was worth it. Every second you spent in Hawaii with Percy felt like another little reminder of why you'd fallen for him in the first place. His effortless charm. The way he somehow always made you laugh, even on your worst days. And, of course, how he absolutely refused to stop teasing you for being a "walking contradiction."

"You're Hades' kid," he'd said when you first arrived, eyes sparkling as he watched you grab a lei of bright yellow plumerias. "Aren't you supposed to, like, hate the sun or something?"

You’d shoved the lei into his face. "We don't all brood like Nico, you know."

The water rushed around your ankles as you pushed the board closer to shore, and Percy handed you the shaved ice with a cheeky smile, already plotting something—you could tell by the glint in his sea-green eyes. Sure enough, as soon as he sat down, he used his powers to send a gentle wave rolling up behind you, pushing the board—and both of you—back into the ocean. "Took you long enough. I thought I’d have to send a search party."

"Oh, please." You rolled your eyes, trying to steady yourself while digging your spoon into the colorful mound. "I’m not the one who spent half an hour arguing with the guy about blue raspberry being superior to pineapple."

"It is superior," Percy argued, unrepentant, pressing his legs against either side of yours. "I’m just spreading the truth."

"Spreading lies, you mean," you shot back, handing him the bowl, then, with a content sigh, you lay back against the board, letting the gentle rocking of the ocean drift your mind away.

How the two of you managed to fit so perfectly on the surfboard was a mystery, especially considering that Percy was anything but small. But somehow, it worked. Maybe that was just...you and him. Always finding a way to make things fit, no matter how chaotic or improbable it seemed.

“We should do one of those couple massages the hotel offers,” Percy muttered, breaking the peaceful silence. You felt him lean forward against your legs, his voice a warm rumble as the waves continued to lap softly around you. “Mom and Paul got one this morning, and she said it was worth it.”

So that’s why Sally and Paul had left Estelle with you two earlier. Not that you minded. Estelle adored both of you, and you couldn’t say no to that little face. The memory of her tiny fingers tugging on yours that morning as she lay between you in bed brought a smile to your lips. She had giggled uncontrollably every time you’d snuggled closer, her bright laugh filling the room in a way that made your heart feel impossibly full.

“She’s the best, isn’t she?” Percy asked, as if reading your mind.

“Definitely,” you agreed, a fond smile curling your lips. “She didn’t even cry when I accidentally dropped her pacifier. Just gave me this little side-eye like, ‘Really? You’re supposed to be the responsible one.’”

Percy barked a laugh, the sound so genuine it made your chest ache in the best way. “Yeah, that’s my sister, all right. She’s already better at judging people than I am.”

“Low bar,” you teased, nudging his side lightly with your foot.

“Hey!” He grabbed your ankle in mock indignation, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You wound me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound blending with the soft crash of waves around you. Moments like this—peaceful, playful, with no looming monsters or world-ending crises, or college essay's due—were rare, and you wanted to soak in every second.

“So,” Percy said after a moment, letting go of your ankle and leaning back again, placing the bowl of already half eaten ice in the empty space under your legs. “Massages or no?”

You hummed in thought, pretending to deliberate even though you already knew the answer. “Fine. As long as this sunburn doesn't kill me tomorrow."

“Ah, yes, finally you will achieve that lobster burn like all children of Had—” Percy started to laugh, but you didn’t let him finish. With a quick shove of your leg, you pushed him off the surfboard, sending him tumbling into the water.

There was a startled yelp, followed by a loud splash, and then silence. For a moment, the waves lapped peacefully, as if the ocean itself was holding its breath.

Then, with a dramatic gasp, Percy resurfaced, water dripping from his soaked bangs as he propped himself up on the edge of the board. His nose was inches from yours, his sea-green eyes narrowed into an exaggerated pout. “Hey! What was that for?!”

“For daring to slander my superior tanning skills,”

Percy squinted at you, water glistening on his skin. “You know, I could just flip this board and end this little truce right now.”

“Percy, so help me, if you try—” Your words were cut off as he leaned forward, slotting his mouth against yours.

The kiss was warm and salty, the ocean’s spray clinging to both of you as his hand found your cheek. For a moment, the world stilled—the waves, the sky, the sun—all of it fading into the background as his lips moved with yours. All that mattered was Percy, his touch, the quiet certainty that he was yours, and you were his.

When he pulled back, his grin was back in full force, all smug and playful. “That’s what I thought,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to keep your expression serious, though the heat blooming in your cheeks probably gave you away. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky?” Percy quirked an eyebrow, sliding back onto the board with practiced ease. “Babe, I’m a catch.”

You groaned, pushing the shaved ice back into his hands. “And now I’m regretting everything.”

“Liar,” he teased, bumping his knee against yours. The two of you sat there, the surfboard rocking gently beneath you. You let out a long sigh, resting your head against Percy’s shoulder, your fingers idly trailing through the cool water beside the board. “You know,” you said after a beat, “I think this might be the longest we’ve gone without a sea monster showing up.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Percy warned, his voice light but carrying just enough seriousness to make you laugh. “The last thing I want is a giant crab ruining my shaved ice.”

“Or ruining our massage plans,” you added with a small grin. “You’re still treating me, by the way.”

“Treating you?” Percy shot you a faux-offended look. “I’m the one risking my life out here. You’re the one who almost drowned me.”

“You fell off,” you corrected, snickering as you felt his gaze on you. “I just… gave you a little nudge.”

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered, shaking his head, but the way his arm wrapped around your waist told you he wasn’t really upset.

The two of you drifted for a while longer, the sounds of laughter and waves filling the air. As the sun moved across the sky, Percy glanced at you, his eyes softening. “Thanks for this.”

“For what?” you asked, turning to meet his gaze.

“For... making everything better,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Even when stuff sucks, you somehow make it less sucky.”

You smiled, leaning into his warmth. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Percy grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Well, good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

You smiled up at him. “You’re stuck with me, Seaweed Brain.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[cornenhapovs]

𝓐𝘣𝘺𝘴𝘴

꒰ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗹𝗲𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝘅 𝘆𝗻 ꒰ 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹 𝘅 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹

꒰⠀for @sugarikiz event 'ʏᴏᴜʀ ℰ𝓎ℯ𝓈 ᴏɴʟʏ ☁︎.𖥔 '

Once upon a time, there were two lovers who were deeply in love with each other. They had been through many ups and downs, but their love for each other had weathered every storm. One day, one of the lovers was going through a difficult time in their life. They felt lost, hopeless, and trapped in a dark abyss of despair. The other lover noticed the change in their partner and tried to offer comfort and support, but the first lover continued to sink deeper into their despair......

" Heeseung please let me be your light " In response to your words, Heeseung's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and appreciation flickering across his face. He leaned closer, his expression growing serious as he spoke. " You want to be my light ? " he repeated, his voice slightly incredulous. " You think you can bring me out of the darkness? "

" Idk... but I want to .. plz I can't see you growing weaker each day passing by " Heeseung's expression softened as he heard the urgency and determination in your voice. He saw the concern and care in your eyes, and it touched a deep part of him that had been shrouded in darkness. He reached out, his hand gently cupping your face, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheek. "You don't understand," he murmured, his voice laced with pain. " The darkness is too strong. It's consuming me."

" THERE HAS TO BE A WAY " you shouted . Heeseung closed his eyes, his hand still gently holding your face. Your insistence and willingness to help him were like a faint ray of light trying to break through the darkness that enveloped him. He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability. "Maybe you were sent to me for a reason ," he murmured. "But I don't know if even your light is bright enough to cut through my darkness."

Your determination only seemed to grow at Heeseung's words. You gently placed your hand over his, your grip tightening as you spoke. " I don't care if it's too strong or if my light isn't bright enough," you said firmly. "I'll do whatever it takes to help you fight the darkness. I'm not going to give up on you, Heeseung. I won't leave you alone in there."

Heeseung watched your determination with a mix of disbelief and awe. The fire in your eyes and the determination in your voice were unlike anything he had encountered before in his existence. He couldn't deny the strange pull he felt towards you, even though you were an angel and he was a devil. Your unwavering commitment to help him, despite the vast differences between your worlds, was both surprising and unsettling. " Please .. please there has to be a way---- " he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his eyes locking on yours with a mixture of pleading and frustration. " You don't understand," he said, his voice strained. "There's no way for an angel like you to help someone like me. You're too good, too pure. The darkness will only consume you too." You tried to speak again, but Heeseung silenced you once more. His hand came up to gently touch your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender despite the harshness of his words. "Please, just listen to me," he pleaded, his voice now tinged with desperation. "You can't save me. The darkness is too strong, and it will only bring you down with me."

" I love you " u whispered . Heeseung froze, his breath catching in his chest at your unexpected declaration. His eyes widened slightly as he stared at you, shock and confusion warring on his face. "You... what?" he responded, his voice barely above a whisper. "You love me?"

"Yes and I don't care if we are not supposed to be together .. or I am doing a sin but I want to be tainted by your love , want my soul to be consume by your darkness. My love for you goes beyond the boundaries of heaven and hell, transcending the laws that would keep us apart. I am ready to plunge into the abyss of your darkness, to let your love encompass me completely. I will embrace the whirlwind of emotions, the passion and pain that come from loving you, a devil. So Lee heeseung will you make me yours ? "

Heeseung's heart thudded in his chest as he heard your words, and for the first time in his existence, he felt a flicker of hope and warmth amidst the darkness that surrounded him. Your declaration of love, your unwavering desire to be with him, it all felt like a dream. He took a step closer to you, his gaze intense and unwavering. "Yes," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of passion and determination. "I will make you mine. I will claim you, body and soul. And there will be no turning back. "

🩸🩸🩸

As you both embraced suddenly heeseung screamed in agony too much pain as his devil red eyes met with yours which ones were filled with bright light and love now cold and devoid of any emotions while you let the knife fall on the ground and his cut wings beside him . Heeseung's scream echoed through the room, his body writhing in pain as the blinding light enveloped him. His eyes, once filled with the fiery gaze of a devil, now froze in shock as they met yours, now cold and emotionless. You stood before him, a stark contrast to the previous moment of tenderness. Your knife clattered against the ground, and Heeseung's severed wings lay beside him, a gruesome reminder of the love that had just shattered into pieces. A menacing smirk adorning your face .

Heeseung's eyes widened in horror as your smirk twisted your features. The warmth and love that had been there moments ago were gone, replaced by a cold, callous expression that sent a shiver down his spine. He tried to scramble away from you, his body still wracked with pain. "Why...?" he managed to croak, his voice filled with disbelief and despair. His scream echoed through the room, his body writhing in pain as the blinding light enveloped him. His eyes, once filled with the fiery gaze of a devil, now froze in shock as they met yours, now cold and emotionless. You stood before him, a stark contrast to the previous moment of tenderness. Your knife clattered against the ground, and Heeseung's severed wings lay beside him, a gruesome reminder of the love that had just shattered into pieces.

" Why ??? Ages ago in this very same place you killed several angels out of spite and one of them was my lover . His name was Yang Jungwon . Does it now ring a bell you foul thing ?? We were supposed to get married .... he was my everything .... BUT YOU DEVIL HAD TO TAKE EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME . YOU DESERVE TO DIE . YOU DESERVE TO BE HATED . " Heeseung's face paled as you reminded him of his past sins. The memory of the angels he had killed, including your lover Yang Jungwon, came flooding back. A mix of guilt and fear flickered in his red eyes, but he tried to maintain his composure, his voice shaky as he spoke. "You... you're the angel that was with him?" he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. Heeseung's body trembled as he listened to your words, the hatred and anger in your voice cutting through him like a knife. He knew he deserved every bit of your wrath, every bit of your pain and heartbreak. A mixture of fear and resignation flickered in his eyes as he spoke, his voice hoarse and weak "I know... I know I deserve it..." he rasped. "But... please...".

"Oh my what have we here huh.. A devil which always gives other deals in exchange for their soul begging infront of me ?? His enemy ?? Haaha " Heeseung's throat tightened as he realized the irony of his situation. He, a devil who was known for making deals and taking souls, was now on his knees, begging you, his enemy, to spare him. His pride and arrogance had fled, leaving behind a husk of fear and despair. He looked up at you, his red eyes pleading, but he stayed silent, unable to find the words to defend himself.

"You... you won't kill me..?" Heeseung's voice was a mere whisper, filled with incredulity and disbelief. He could not comprehend why you, who had just learned of his darkest sin, had not immediately taken his life. The fear and despair in his eyes remained, but there was a hint of curiosity mixed with it. "Why not ?" he found himself asking, his voice tremulous. "Why spare the devil who took away the angel you loved?"

" Sometimes leaving a scar is much better than killing at once . Just like my past haunts me ... similarly from now on I'll haunt your memories ". Heeseung shivered at your words, a sense of unease crawling up his spine. You had spoken of a form of torment far worse than death – leaving him with memories, with reminders of the pain and suffering he had caused. He knew what it meant to be haunted, to have the ghosts of the past lingering in the shadows, forever present yet forever out of reach. And he now faced the possibility of that very fate. Before going from there you stomped on his wings and gave your angelic smile as that moment you felt your lover's justice ... your jungwon's justice , being served . Heeeseung cried out in pain as you stomped on his wings, the sharp agony shooting through him and further fueling the torment you had cast upon him. Your angelic smile, so beautiful and yet so cold, sent a chill down his spine, a cruel reminder of the price he had paid for his sins. He could almost feel the weight of Jungwon's presence, his spirit finding justice through your actions. Heeseung closed his red eyes, his mind filled with regret and grief as he whispered,

" I'm sorry.... "

Tags @okwonyo @021894s @strawberrynull @wonryllis

[discordantwords]

Thank you so much for the tag @therealsaintscully!

How many works do you have on ao3? 48! 30 for BBC Sherlock and 18 for The X-Files.

What’s your total word count? 924,659 (whoa, that's a lot of words)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea White Knight Incidents with Dogs, Curious and Otherwise Another Auld Lang Syne The Dead Detective

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I try to. I'm not always as on top of it as I intend to be. I find comments tremendously meaningful and I at times get emotional while reading them. They are important to me. I reread them often.

I often fear that I'm a poor conversationalist and overthink my responses, which can tend to freeze me up.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Most of my long fics have happy endings.

The Pillar upon Which England Rests is my ode to Mrs. Hudson. As she and John are grieving Sherlock's fall, she tells John all about how she and Sherlock first met. I don't think of it as a particularly sad story, but I suppose that ending counts as angsty, as Sherlock's eventual return is not addressed in the story.

I guess the shorter, more horrorish ones have angsty (or at least uneasy) endings.

Nothing Happened in Belarus has S4 Sherlock, in the throes of his breakdown, somehow briefly traveling through time and encountering S1 John, who cares for him. It's a brief reprieve for him in the midst of a personal hell, but there is no resolution. When he returns to his own time, he is still forced to face what's coming next.

At the end of Leaves, Sherlock and John have either successfully defeated the bloodthirsty plant that has invaded their flat, or they're being digested by it. I leave that decision up to the reader. :)

The Web has Sherlock returned from his time away and reunited with John, but there is a part of him that will always remain haunted and deeply paranoid.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Most of them, heh. I like to leave my characters in a good place after putting them through hell.

I guess I'd have to say White Knight? I still get a little giddy when I think about the way Sherlock proposes at the end of that one, and how happy and free they both are after the crushing weight of misunderstandings and grief has fallen away.

Whirlwind has a pretty joyful ending, too.

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't written a crossover, but I have done a few fusion fics. The Dead Detective is a fusion with Jumpin' Jack Flash. Whirlwind is a fusion with Twister. Out There is a fusion with The X-Files.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really. Most responses on AO3 have been warm and supportive. I have gotten a few unnecessarily vicious comments on some of my ficlets here on Tumblr, but I do my best to ignore those.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Most of my smut tends to be of the R-rated variety, because I'm frankly just not very good at writing it.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, sort of, but I don't believe it was done maliciously and I don't intend to call attention to it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not. I'm open to the idea, but I honestly don't know if I'm cut out for it. I think my tendency to wing things and my utter lack of a consistent writing schedule would drive a potential writing partner mad.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Mulder and Scully were my first true fandom love. I love Sherlock and John equally as much, if not more.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

There are quite a few WIPs on my hard drive that may never see the light of day. As far as posted fics, my Sherlock/Knight Rider fusion probably won't be finished.

What are your writing strengths?

I like to think that I'm pretty good at capturing character mannerisms, and writing from a perspective that lets the reader feel what the POV character is feeling.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not all that impressed with my smut writing abilities.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I steer clear of it. Although Google translate can be helpful, IMO there are too many opportunities to make embarrassing or inadvertently offensive mistakes.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I really enjoy the character dynamics between Hannibal/Will in Hannibal and Lestat/Louis in Interview with the Vampire. I think I'd have a harder time getting into their heads than I do with Sherlock and John, so I'll probably just continue admiring them from afar for now.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

This is such a hard question! I'm probably proudest of the work that went into Out There, but I have a huge soft spot for The Pillar upon Which England Rests and (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea.

If anyone out there would like to share your thoughts on some of the things you've written, please do! I'll also tag @thetimemoves @arwamachine @raina-at @vulpesmellifera @iheardyou @totallysilvergirl @khorazir

[lovelaetter]

hi! its my first time asking but any thoughts on rosé cuz goddamn i love her so much

and also can i be 😎

THANK YOU!

it surprises me that i haven’t talked about her yet because those who know me know that she is my main girl. okay, sure, her, jennie and yeri actually fight for the position from time to time but she’s the top suitor, number one girl fr. it’s so not healthy to ask me about her because i could talk about her for hours and it’s not even a joke, the posts i miss the most from the old blog are hers :( like, sugar baby!rosé, vampire’s reader crazy gf!rosé… come back to me, i miss you all 😢

now let’s talk about something that haunts me: secretary, controversially younger sugar baby and mistress!rosé. you feel so bad, that’s an awful thing to do to your partner, but then you enter the hotel room she’s waiting you at and sees her in bed looking like the most ethereal little fawn against the pillows wearing the pretty silk set you bought her, pouting, softly snoring… how were you supposed to not fall for her? all thoughts are out of your head because look at your baby, got all dolled up and you took so long to arrive. suddenly everything you want is to take off your shoes, get into bed and awake her with soft kisses. and she’s so happy to awaken, honestly, jumping onto your arms with this huge smile for a real kiss, running over her own words “i missed you so much why did you take so long no it doesn’t matter i dont care i misseeeed you”. the type to not let go of you, whines when you get up to shower even if you promise you’ll take minutes, seats on your lap while you two eat dinner but you have to feed her yourself because she talks and talks and talks and the talking turns into moaning because the food is gone and you’re just looking at her with this lovingly gaze, asking “really, baby?” and rubbing gently between her legs over her shorts and she has nothing underneath and is starting to feel her hole leak and seep through the fabric with ease.

she’s your little secret but maybe not so little, there is a number of people who have seen her sneaking into your office at not so busy hours of the day only to come out thirty minutes later all smiley and glowing, something new in the air around her, sitting behind her desk fixing makeup and hair. or the glances you throw at her outfits, expensive pieces she certainly isn’t buying with secretary money or how she doesn’t know to act when your partner shows up unannounced for some reason. but who cares? it’s not their business if the boss is fucking her younger secretary or not.

and she doesn’t want to ruin your marriage, really, but there’s no guilty in her when your marriage is already failed, she knows it’s all an act… but that doesn’t mean she can’t get jealous. totally does not storm inside your office after your partner leaves to passive aggressively ask how they were, trying to be nonchalant but staying in the middle of the room staring at you with her arms crossed. you might try to convince her to come to you but she won’t, leaving you to get up and walk to her, taking her pretty face in hands and kissing the pout away, telling her to “stop being silly, rosie” and it takes her guards down because she knows there’s nothing to worry about :( ends up bend over your desk and basically drooling, her pants undone and all the way down her ankles and keeping her ass cheeks spread open for you, who is kneeling and slurping on her sweet cunt from behind.

[frvnkcastles]

Hi! I love your writing so so much!!

If possible, could you do one where the reader has been working overtime at work and is exhausted, like they've been having headaches and barely sleeping & Frank notices and basically convinces them and helps them to take a break? Thank you!! 💕❤️

KEEP ME COMPANY ’TIL THE END ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’re pushing yourself past your limits for work and Frank intervenes.

Warnings: Stress, mostly fluff, gender neutral reader, language

Word count: 770

Author’s note: Hiiii my loves! I am so sorry for being MIA, this semester is kicking my ass :( Rn it seems like my posts will be a little infrequent because I have sooo many deadlines before Christmas, but I’m gonna try my best!! I have not forgotten about all your requests!! Thank you so much for your patience, thank you also for 900 followers, that’s so wack but I am so grateful <3 Anon, I hope you enjoy this short fic and that you forgive me for being so slow to get this out. Much love!

A brewing headache pinched at your temples and you were painfully aware that every minute you spent staring at your outrageously bright laptop screen only sealed your fate tighter and tighter. It was getting late but you still felt like you had so much to do; like you had barely scratched the surface of all your responsibilities. You had only taken a break to go to the bathroom and reluctantly eat something when Frank had insisted on it, and now the tension from sitting on the couch with your laptop huffing and puffing on your thighs was starting to seep into your shoulders and neck.

Frank didn’t like it, the way you worked yourself to the bone, but he had swallowed down his complaints when you had promised to wrap things up within the hour. Still, you could feel his scrutinizing stare on you from across the couch, his attention on your focused frown rather than the football game he was supposed to be watching. He was itching to say something, to force you away from the suffocating bubble of stress, but he was trying to be patient — though the scratched label of his beer bottle said plenty.

When you winced at the pulsating headache behind your eye, though, he cleared his throat and reached for your laptop.

”Hey! Frank, noooo. I’m not done”, you insisted, trying to get the device back but he was quick to save your document and then slap it closed before you could retrieve it. He angled it behind his back and tutted at you, disapproving of the way you were pushing yourself for the sixth day in a row.

”Nah, sweetheart, I’m tellin’ you, you’re gonna waste away if you don’t take a break. You’ve been at it all day, aight? I want you here with me, not worryin’ about shit”, he argued back, your pout doing nothing to sway him. He always caved in and gave you what you wanted — unless your health and sanity were at stake.

You frowned, a sudden surge of guilt swinging at your chest. ”I guess I’ve been kinda neglecting you…”, you admitted with shame. That had never been your intention, but you couldn’t deny that you had not been a very present partner lately.

Shaking his head, Frank set the beer on the coffee table and took your hand in his own. ”It ain’t about that, darlin’. It’s the fact that this is wearin’ you out. I know you ain’t sleepin’ and I gotta jump through all these hoops to just get you to eat. I’m worried, y’know?” he explained, his tone stern but still warm. He was trying his hardest to be understanding, but he took your well-being too personally to let this newfound routine go on.

You managed a nod and squeezed his hand. ”I know, Frankie, I’m sorry, it’s just… there’s so much to do and I can’t fall behind”, you tried to rationalize your persistent working, and he sighed softly, not out of frustration but to acknowledge the difficult situation.

”I get it, sweetheart. But no one can expect you to be efficient at this hour, aight? You need to rest, too. Yeah?” Frank pointed out, tilting his head to catch your gaze. He was right and you knew it, so begrudgingly, you admitted defeat.

”Okay. I’ll limit myself”, you agreed, and with the concern in his eyes slowly fading, Frank nodded approvingly. He placed the laptop on the table before opening his arms for you, gesturing for you to cuddle up to him. The invitation made you smile and seeing joy on your face for the first time all day got Frank’s lips twitching, too.

You nestled against him and he wrapped you into a cocoon of safety and warmth, hoping to distract you from the stress lingering on your mind. It was hard not to think about all the work you could have been doing, and Frank suspected as much.

”I know it ain’t easy to just turn it off. But you deserve a break, baby. And I’m fuckin’ proud of you for all your effort, but I’ll be proud if you cut back a lil, too”, he spoke up after a moment of just cuddling, and with your heart soaring at his praise, you tilted your head up so you could kiss his jaw tenderly.

”Thank you, Frank. Love you”, you muttered, feeling the exhaustion of the past week creep up on you. Frank noticed, but he was glad — you needed sleep, and he was going to try and help you do it however he could.

”Love you too, sweetheart.”

[ghostface001]

Shooting Stars

A rewrite of March's shooting star festival cutscene. I kept his dialogue, because I think it's such a good insight to his character, but I added to it in a way that I'm pretty proud of! I hope you enjoy!

March x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Tags: Slight angst, fluff, idiots in love, oblivious flirting, emotional constipation, light swearing

Last night, you dreamed of stars. 

It was all everyone was talking about for the past few days. Friday night at the inn, Nora and Holt each had their own stories of their first shooting star festival spent together. At the Saturday market, Vera lamented not being in Mistria for the festival (apparently, it’s the best view) as she cut your hair. And today, Elsie stopped by your house to hand deliver a brooch — traditionally used to invite a ‘special someone.’

You turn the brooch over in your hand. It’s shaped like a star, with crystal beads dangling down. “It’s beautiful,” You comment softly. “If I invite someone… does it have to be romantic?”

Elsie pauses. It’s likely that she’s never had to consider the festival as anything other than romantic. “Hmm, I suppose it doesn’t. But a night alone, underneath the stars, destinies intertwined; would you rather spend it with a friend, or a partner?” 

The conspiratory wink she sends only twists your insides. When you moved to Mistria, romance wasn’t on your mind. It wasn’t something you’d thought about until no one could talk about anything else. “I just don’t think anyone would want to spend the festival with me in that sense.”

She laughs, and for a moment, you wonder how Juniper snuck her way into the conversation. It’s similar; high pitched, snooty, but it’s different in the way she’s laughing with you rather than at you. “Oh, Darling,” She chuckles, waving her hand, only stopping when she sees the confusion on your face. “Oh, you’re serious? Darling, have you truly not noticed — you know what, I’m sure you already have someone in mind.” She chuckles again, taking your hand and closing your fingers over the brooch. “Just invite him, and have fun. It’s such a special night, no matter who you spend it with.”

Elsie parts with a quick peck on both sides of your cheeks, leaving you with the brooch and your own thoughts.

~~~

Five points dig into the palm of your hand, guiding you on your walk to the mines. That’s where Ryis said they would be. 

“Hey!” Olric spots you first, waving cheerfully as you approach. “You want to go mining with us? March thought we’d be able to get some extra copper before the festival.”

Normally, you would say yes. But your nerves were already telling you to get as far away as possible, and working in the mines with the source of those nerves was mortifying. “Actually, I wanted to talk to March. Can I steal you for a second?”

You don’t know why the thought of asking him is getting you so worked up. When Elsie gave you the brooch, he was the first person to come to mind, and it didn’t bother you. And then she started talking about her past partners to the festival, and intertwined destinies, and now all you want to do is chuck the brooch in the river and pass out in the mines again. It took a few dips in the pond looking for artifacts — and then a shower — to get out of your own head. And then the walk through town and the narrows brought all those worries back. What if he thought it was romantic? What would you say? 

March stands in front of you at the old flower bed, his hands stuffed in his pockets, as Olric preoccupies himself with double checking their rucksacks for everything they need by the mine entrance. “What do you want?” His brusk question somehow manages to quell your nerves. 

You hold out your hand, revealing the brooch. “Elsie gave this to me this morning, she said it’s a part of a tradition, or something,” You begin, digging your shoe in the dirt path. “You can say no, I won’t take it personally. I just thought it would be fun. As friends, obviously.”

When you finally manage to look at him, March is staring down at the brooch with a look of pure bewilderment. His eye twitches slightly as he glances up at you, trying to read your expression for something, then back at the brooch. He seems to register that you’re no longer talking, and he flushes, his shoulders tensing as he looks away with pinched features. “Fine. Olric will just badger me about it if I say no.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I said yes, didn’t I?” He snaps, glaring at you, his cheeks only getting redder. 

You can’t help but smile, only seeming to fluster him more. “Cool. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Be at the summit at eight. Don’t be late, I won’t wait up for you,” He grumbles, finally snatching the brooch from your hand and stuffing it in his pocket. Before you can respond, he turns on his heel, stalking away with his head down. You watch as he reaches Olric, who grins and claps him on the shoulder with a thumbs up, earning a snapped response from March that you can’t hear as they disappear into the mine’s entrance. 

~~~

When you walk through the clearing to the summit at eight on the dot, you find March already there. “Hey.” His greeting is shorter than usual. He only glances at you for a second, returning his focus to the two paper cups in his hand before thrusting one at you. “It will get cold. I figured you wouldn’t dress for the weather.”

You laugh as you take the cup, the warmth in your hand blooming as your fingers brush against his. “You’re literally wearing a tank top.”

“I’m used to it,” He snaps softly.

With a snort, you shake your head, approaching the setup of blankets and pillows. “Wow. I can’t believe I missed this last year.” The sun is setting, painting the sky orange and pink. You’ve been on the summit before, but something about tonight fills you with a new wonder. 

“You… missed the festival?” He was about to sit down when your words gave him pause, an unreadable expression passing over his face. 

“I was working.” You pass the blanket, looking over the edge. “I wanted to get to the next mineshaft stop in the mines and lost track of time. I passed out down there, actually. Valen chewed me out the next morning for making her work on her birthday. Oh! I have some dried tea leaves and flowers, I could make her her own bag of loose leaf tomorrow—”

March interrupts your musing. “I’d rather you not fall off the cliff, would you come sit down already?”

The sun sets as you both sit on a star-shaped pillow, and after a while of sipping your drinks in silence, the first shooting star streaks across the sky. And then, another follows. And another. 

You’re entranced by the show when March speaks. “Well, here we are. Up on the summit… watching the stars.” His voice sours, and you turn to see him looking up at the sky with a grimace. 

He was having a bad time already? Your awe subsides, and you sigh. “Yup.” You take another sip of hot chocolate. “So, uh, did you watch the stars with your family when you were younger?”

“My… family?” He pauses. “Olric and I didn’t have time for that kind of thing growing up.”

You glance back over at him to find him staring down at his drink. “Me neither. My parents—”

“Can we talk about something else?” 

There isn’t malice in his tone as he interrupts you, but the urgency drops a pit in your stomach. “Yeah, of course,” You answer, wracking your brain for something else. “The stars are beautiful, aren’t they?”

His grip tightens on his cup. You let out a sigh, pulling your knees to your chest and resigning yourself to a silent night when he suddenly stands, glaring down at you with an intensity you haven’t seen since first moving to Mistria. “Why did you really invite me here, anyway?” March demands. “To press my buttons? As some kind of… joke?” 

“A joke? What the hell are you talking about?” He only tenses more as your brow furrows. “I invited you because I like you!”

“You… what?” Confusion takes over for a moment before the anger and frustration returns. “Quit messing around. If you want to watch the stars, let’s watch the stars.”

“No!” You pull yourself to your feet, now glaring at him as March stares at you in shock. “You really think I invited you as a joke? What’s the joke, then? Explain it to me, because I have no idea.” He only sets his jaw, not taking the bait as you clench your fists at your sides. “I invited you because I thought it would be fun, because I thought we were finally at a place where you didn’t hate me just for moving here, but I guess I was wrong. You didn’t have to accept my invitation, March. So either get over yourself, or get out of here. I’m not letting you ruin this festival for me.” You sit back down, stubbornly staring at the sky to avoid looking at March, who you can see standing frozen in the corner of your eye. 

You expect him to scoff and stomp away, grumbling under his breath about how annoying you are. You expect him to accuse you of something else, or to lob another insult your way in retaliation for the ‘get over yourself’ comment. You don’t expect him to sit back down begrudgingly, not that you could celebrate it as a win even if you wanted to, which you don’t, because you’re still pissed off at his little temper tantrum. “The stars… do look pretty from up here.” March finally breaks the silence, his voice strained. “I didn’t realize they would be so clear.”

You scoff. “How did you not know what it would be like? Did you miss last year’s festival, too?”

“I… was working.”

A sudden snort escapes you, breaking the wall of frustration you had put up. “Now you’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not.” March rolls his eyes, but you can see the hint of a smile — or a smirk, more likely — playing at his lips. “You can see the stars any time. Why would I waste an entire night staring up at the same boring sky when I could be doing something productive with my time?” He shrugs. “That was my plan for tonight, but… we’re all caught up on our orders for this week, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a night off.”

You don’t know what it is about him. Maybe it’s that despite his initial coldness to you, you knew it was from a genuine care for his home. Maybe it’s the way you can see the pressure he puts himself under, the standards he holds himself to, and you know his attitude is less about you and more about himself. Whatever it is, it never fails to roll the passive aggressive comments off your back as soon as he makes an effort to be nice. 

That doesn’t mean you’re not going to still give him shit about it. “And then you were an asshole.”

He snorts, scratching the back of his head with a small frown. “Yeah, pretty much.” It’s not an apology, but you don’t feel like pushing it. “It almost feels like they’re drawing you in, doesn’t it?” It does. Not only are you drawn into the stars, but you also feel drawn to the person next to you. Two stars shoot across the sky, as though bound together. It isn’t until they disappear that you remember to blink.

Despite the distance between you, a sense of warmth leaves when March eventually stands. “It’s getting pretty late,” He announces, holding his hand out to you. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the farm. If you fall and hurt yourself in the dark, I know I won’t hear the end of it.”

You laugh and take his hand, that warmth returning as he helps you up. “Please, I could make the way back blindfolded if I had to. Let’s test it, do you have your headband on you?”

“Unless you want to make Valen work on her birthday for the second year in a row, you can endanger yourself as a party trick another time.”

“Promise? It’s a good party trick.” He looks away as you grin, and you can see his cheeks flush under the light of the moon. 

~~~

“Watch your step, a bit of the decking is uneven after the storm last week,” You warn. “I mentioned it to Adeline and Ryis, they said they’d get on it this week as soon as they got the supplies.”

“So you’re the reason I had to complete another nail order.” March steps over a splintered piece of wood. 

You roll your eyes. “I’ll put in an order for something more ‘worthy’ of your talents to make up for it. How about a spoon?”

“Cute.”

“Careful, I might start thinking you actually like me.” He stumbles over another part of the decking that had lifted, causing you to laugh. “Don’t fall and hurt yourself in the dark, March, I won’t hear the end of it.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s more like it.” You continue walking, him grumbling after you. Another shooting star overheard gives you pause, remembering something important. “I never saw a shooting star as a kid. For the longest time, I thought they were fake. Just some lie to tell kids so they’d believe in wishes, y’know?” You slow down, electing to walk past the shorter path through the edge of town to walk around Sweetwater Farm instead. “The first time I saw one, it was my third season as an adventurer. I wished for a family. And when the missive to move in here came, it came true. Everyone took me in. They made me feel welcome, like they wanted me here. Except you. That’s why I invited you.”

You don’t have to look at him to know the confused sneer painting his face. “You invited me because… I was mean to you when you moved in?”

“Everyone was so hopeful about me getting the town rank back up,” You continue. “I love everyone here, and I was so grateful, but it was a lot of pressure. I felt like I had to live up to everyone’s expectations. But you… you didn’t have any expectations of me — except that I wouldn’t last, but that was fine. For some reason, it helped. You already assumed the worst of me, so I didn’t have to be the best. I can be myself around you. Does that make sense?”

When you turn to look at him, he’s staring at the ground in contemplation as he walks with you. “... Yeah, actually. It does.” You continue on in a much more comfortable silence than the summit, the frogs croaking and the wind whistling through the trees speaking for you. Eventually, you get to the farm. “Woah.” March blinks, shock painting his features as he takes it in.

You scoff. “I know, don’t start with me. Between crops, animals, the mines, the request board, and Adeline’s projects, I don’t have time to clean up. Once winter comes around, I can focus more on making it look presentable.”

“That’s not—” March shakes his head. “You don’t have time for decorating, but you have time for bothering me?”

“Oh, I make time to bother you. It’s one of the highlights of my day.” You grin at him as you reach your door. “Thanks for walking me back. I’ll come by to put in my spoon order tomorrow.”

“I’m not making you a spoon.”

“I guess I’ll just keep eating with my hands, then.” The disgusted grimace on March’s face causes laughter to bubble out of you. “See? Best part of my day, right there. Goodnight, March.”

He rolls his eyes again, his face turning red as he turns and walks away. “Night,” He calls out, not looking back. 

Your smile stays the rest of the night as you get ready for bed, and that night, you dream of stars.

~~~

The next morning, after dropping off Valen’s birthday gift, you stop by the blacksmith’s. March lifts his head, nodding in greeting before returning to whatever he’s working on at his desk. “I’m going to the mines, are you low on any ore? I can bring some by later.”

“We’re fine.” The response is immediate, he doesn’t give it any thought. Typical. “Since you’re not busy, there’s a notebook in my room. It’s on my shelf.”

“Good for you.” He shoots you an unimpressed look, but you’re already on your way to his door. “You know, it doesn’t hurt to throw in a ‘please’ every once in a while,” you comment as you step inside his room. It’s neat, with a potted plant in the corner and a small watering can. At the far end of the room, a tall shelf is lined with frames and trophies from various blacksmithing competitions. It doesn’t surprise you to see how many read ‘first place.’ You find his notebook quickly, and turn to leave the room when something catches your eye. Two shelves above, near the most recent trophy, sits a star-shaped brooch with crystal beads. You clutch the notebook tightly. You had expected March to just throw the brooch in a chest somewhere, not… keep it on a shelf of his achievements. 

To avoid dwelling on it for too long, you go back to his desk and hand him the notebook. Luckily, he doesn’t ask what took you so long. “I was told that I should thank you for last night, so… thanks,” March sighs, pausing from his work to look up at you. “Just don’t let it go to your head.” He smirks, causing you to roll your eyes. 

Still, you can't help but smile. “I’ll try my best. See you later, March. I want my spoon by the end of the week." It's his turn to roll his eyes as you wink and continue your way to the mines.

~~~

Friday morning, a packaged set of cutlery sits in your mailbox.

'Josephine accidentally ordered too many for the inn. — March'

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another day another "applying the concept 'disposability' to 'someone withdraws from a personal relationship, & that wasn't signed off on by the other'" kill me

[thinkinpoink]

Me? Having a meltdown due to stupid changes in the work scheduling process?

More likely than you think!

[pepprs]

i will shut up abt this i promise but like. the concept of being in a stable safe mutually loving whatever relationship is INSANE . like how can you ever feel bad about yourself or wounded or whatever again. it’s like a superpower or somethi ng. <- doesn’t know what she’s taking abt bc she’s never experienced it or the absence of it after having it merely the negative space of it and is filling in the gaps w logic or something. but it’s INSANE to me. like of course i feel like shit about myself i am catcrumb unloved.jpg!

[albedobeheading]

every time I have to deal with my mother guilt tripping me or saying whatever shit she wants to make me upset, it just makes me miss my boyfriend so much to the point where I feel embarrassed about it because I know I wouldn’t be this needy if I wasn’t living here

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[bitter-post-millennial]

Oh so you’re purposely missing the point I’m trying to make. Good to know.

The point wasn’t about the relationships themselves. It was that in a story about THE DANCE you’re going to have spots of sympathy for both sides. It’s a give and take. Not everything is going to be about Rhaenyra. Sometimes they have to make room for other things. The show isn’t perfect, in fact I have a lot of issues with it, but it’s also removed a lot of Rhaenyra’s character to make her more sympathetic. This can be seen in the book with vaemond where he never even got to petition the court. He just talked about how he was upset about the line of succession being interrupted by a child who obviously wasnt related to him and who had no interest in learning what it means to be a Velaryon. So Rhaenyra dispatches daemon and he beheads vaemond and they feed his body to Caraxes. She lets her child get away Scotfree after he ripped his uncles eye out. Aemond didn’t even get an apology but ok.

Based on show canon- not the books- alicent gave birth as a child, around 15. She endured marital rape by Viserys at the very least 3 times, 4 if we’re counting Daeron. I think that might be an important aspect to think about considering the fact that Alicent knew exactly how Aemma died and knew that her husband would rather slit her stomach and get the child than tell her what was going on. Imagine being 15 and knowing that you can’t say no to your best friends father when he asks to marry you.

Please for the love of god talk to people different than you. Find empathy for someone other than your girl boss queen Rhaenyra. Please just act like a normal person. These are fake people with fake problems meant to illustrate and explore certain aspects of medieval life and what they mean in historical context. This is not a modern story.

the fact that we are going to have to sit through multiple alicent/crispy scenes this season and didn't even get ONE harwin/rhaenyra scene last season is a crime