#anyway how long has it been since i've posted something

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Day 18: Mike's Bedroom Scene . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Everyone knows this scene, everyone here LOVES this scene (or they better love it). It's so ripe for analysis in every single way, not even just for byler, but for things that happen later on in the season. I think shots like this are extremely thought out. They chose a wide angle shot to show you Mike's bedroom for a reason. They also showed you this bedroom right after seeing El's, to show the contrast between their two lives and how they view each other.

I've already talked about this contrast between their two rooms and the fact that Mike has nothing from El in his room in this post.

1. Rainbow Letter + Closet

I want to talk about something else before the glaringly obvious queer coding first: and that is the fact that El has her own stationary specific for writing Mike's notes, while it is canon that Mike just writes his letters to El on some scrap pieces of paper, showing the unequal amounts they are putting into their relationship:

Anyways, back to El's letter to Mike having literal rainbows on it. For El, this is some clear foreshadowing for her being in the rainbow room, and we can all agree on that right?

So if we can agree on that, then I think we should agree that it could also be true this is queer coding for Mike. It's the first thing you see in this scene, even before you see a shot of Mike himself. Also the fact that the next shot of the scene is Mike next to the open closet with the light on, kind of implies or foreshadows his story being tied to queerness for the rest of the season.

Having the light on in the closet is also to draw your attention toward it. I've talked before about how often in film it is to use light to mean truth, meaning this would imply that being in the closet is the truth that Mike is hiding, since a lot of this scene is taken up by the fact El's lying to him. So what does he have to hide? The set designers utilise light in this scene very carefully, which I will touch on in the later sections <3

2. Posters

This is such a famous piece of evidence that I feel like I don't really need to say anything here lmaooo, like we can see in multiple different shots that instead of having posters of literally anything else on his walls, he has posters of men. Specifically buff men (or a dragon if u wanna be pedantic guys).

This seems so on the nose that it has to be queer coding, just like the scene where Mike goes to the wrestling gym while on his search for a DND replacement for Lucas, and stuff like this has been used on many different queer coded characaters in media for a long time.

I've heard people argue that there is also a girl character in the Conan the Barbarian poster, but honestly, if you watch the film you would know why this is not a great thing to say or equate women to lmao... Basically this film does not shy away from the fact that men in this time period treated women like property so I'd be careful saying that.

If you want to go past talking about the fact this CtB poster is just a poster of a buff man, I'd say that it could symbolise Mike's need to be normal and fit into the "male role" in society that we saw in S3. To be honest, if I saw a guy with this poster, I'd.....run, girl RUN

So anyways, not only is there one poster of a buff guy, there is another. The one on the left is a poster designed by Rick Ruhman, whose other posters can be seen in the show, like in Reefer Rick's house. Buff dragon poster you'll always be famous <3

This is two instances already of Mike being associated with buff men, um, and to be honest that should be enough, but it's funny that there are two other instances of this happening in the show. Another is literally in episode 1 of S4, where Mike goes to the wrestling gym, and another is when he mentions Superman in relation to El for some reason, rather than calling her 'Supergirl' like Argyle does 10000 times.

This is a pattern, everyone. And can be compared to the fact that other male characters who were around the same age as him have posters of women surrounding them in different scenes.

In Steve's room: he was 17

In Lucas's scene with the other basketball guys: he is same age as Mike

3. His Noticeboard

thanks to @runninguplenorahills for this very good photo haha

First of all, want to establish that the lamp is placed next to this notice board on purpose, in order to draw your attention towards it, just like his closet earlier on (and later, you shall see). So you are meant to view this notice board as having little hints on it.

And there are! Not just towards his queerness. and they are pretty much confirmed to be foreshadowing for some of the plot points in S4, so other stuff in his room could also be foreshadowing , but for his queerness too.

These Garbage Pail Kids cards clearly foreshadow some events of S4. I think Heavin Steven may have something to do with Steve literally biting the head off of a demobat, which makes sense, or it could be about him randomly pouring his heart out to Nancy in the caravan. Evil Eddie obviously foreshadows that everyone thinks Eddie is the head of an evil cult and has murdered a woman, which is what's happening in the card. Live Mike is either a reference to Eddie playing his guitar later on, or it could be a reference to Mike's monologue where there are many lightning strikes at the most interesting times... Finally, Mad Max's card shows a brain being outside someone's head, foreshadowing her mind visiting Vecna's mindscape and her being braindead by the end of the season.

Also on his notice board are:

Escape Fun City: reference to California

Pizza Sticker: foreshadowing his time in the surfer boy pizza van and the pizza place.

Will's Drawings: obviously showing that he places more care in Will's drawings than El's letters which I talk about on one of my previous posts. He also still has Will's drawings in his basement.

So how is this byler evidence? Well, I really think this proves just how much thought and care went into making Mike's room foreshadow some later plot points, because the audience can hardly see what's going on here, but it still foreshadows stuff. This leads me onto....

4. The One Way Sign ;)

This one is a classic, and if you don't know this already, then I guess you must be new here hello

I just want you guys to think for a second about the intentionality of this. And I want you to imagine people setting up his room for filming. Because it wasn't just created out of nowhere, people genuinely thought about each decision. Imagine this just being written off as a coincidence, because let's lay out some facts here:

A light has been set up in Mike's closet

That light has been pointed so that it is a beam towards Mike

The closet door has been opened for no practical reason

A one way sign has been ordered, put on the wall in this specific spot.

A one way sign does not foreshadow any other plot points in S4.

I am baffled when I talk to people and they don't think this type of stuff is intentional. It's a blink and you miss it hint, yes, but those types of hints are supposed to be subtle so that when you look back on them, they make a lot of sense.

Overall, this shot of Mike's room is the perfect introduction to his character this season and makes the most sense. There is no other way that he could have been introduced in S4, in my opinion. It's subtlety is only for people who care enough to look, but it heavily queercodes him nonetheless. Just because they're small, doesn't mean they are insignificant.

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Finally got my shit together and finished a WIP lmao. My sweet, sad little blorbo from my brain who lives rent free in my head 💙 He needs love and affection so badly but I simply refuse to give him any, he just gets to be miserable 😌

Anyway, medical content (set in a hospital), contagion risk, bit of mess but it's not descriptive, I absolutely did not read this over so yeah there's probably mistakes

Aditya was too much of a people pleaser for his own good, unable to bear the thought of letting his coworkers down, even when he absolutely needed to take the day off. He had come down with quite the cold, and was currently stumbling his way through a tedious 24 hour shift at the hospital. He would admittedly much rather be in bed at home with blankets piled on top of him, sniffling and sneezing into tissues provided by another person, perhaps sipping on some warm tea while they rubbed his back. But that was nothing more than a fruitless dream; it had been far longer than Aditya cared to think about since he'd had someone like that in his life, or at least someone who was readily available.

Even in his last relationship, he hadn’t been on the receiving end of care and affection, though Aditya so generously counted it as a time he had. He desperately missed having someone to go home to, someone to hold after a particularly exhausting day, someone to make food for. So far, it seemed that maybe that just wasn't in the stars for him. Besides, he reasoned, he was needed at the hospital, and it saved him from having to return to his empty house that felt less and less like a home everyday.

Going about his rounds was less than ideal; his head throbbed with congestion, and it took everything in him to hold back sneezes when he went in to see patients. Even entering notes into one of the rickety old computers seemed like such an arduous task, his head pounding and his eyes aching, further exacerbated by the fact that he'd so stupidly forgotten his reading glasses at home. He was normally so in his element in the ER, never overwhelmed by the fast pace of the department and the bustling people. Today, though, he was clearly in over his head.

Thick sniffles punctuated every sentence, as well as irritated coughs, and the persistent itch in his nose that just wouldn't go away. He tried wrinkling his nose, subtly rubbing at it, just trying to make the tingling sensation go away. Aditya figured he should consider himself lucky that he could even hold back any of his sneezes, though the consequence was being unable to get any sort of relief. His nose kept running, and he was constantly having to wipe it with a tissue or the back of his wrist. He was a sorry sight; hitching breath and watery eyes, a curled finger pressed beneath his nose in an effort to keep himself from sneezing. He was trying desperately to not appear too symptomatic in front of his patients and colleagues, though it was mostly in vain. The patients didn't seem to notice nor care about the state he was in, but the other hospital personnel definitely did, and he honestly didn't even want to know what they thought of him right now.

Never in his life had Aditya been so grateful for the veteran nurses and ER technicians, which was saying something, because he was always grateful for them. They all less than gently pushed him out of the patients' rooms and simply had him sign off on charts and treatments, much to his dismay. Talking to the patients was his favorite part of the job; patient care was the entire reason he'd gone through all of those hellish years of medical school, after all. Though, considering he could barely even hold a conversation without his voice cracking or his breath hitching every few words as he fought back the urge to sneeze, it was probably for the best that the other staff members were letting him do the bare minimum in terms of patient contact. Even just submitting referrals for patients was a nightmare, sniffling constantly and tightly pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger to keep himself from sneezing. He looked so pathetic, eventually a couple of the nurses either took pity on him, or just wanted to be rid of his incessant sniffles for a while, and talked him into taking a break when things slowed down. Aditya was in absolutely no condition to argue, and simply offered a tired, grateful smile before pushing himself away from the computer.

He didn't even know if he wanted to head all the way over to the hospital staff break room, and opted to head to the first responder break room; it was much closer, and really, all he wanted to do was get off his feet for a bit. He pushed open the door, and sat heavily in one of the chairs, his entire body cold and aching. Logically, he knew he should’ve called out, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it; the guilt would’ve killed him quicker than this cold was going to.

"H'aATSCHEW! Hah- hk'ESCHEW!" Aditya pitched forward, barely managing to pull a tissue from his pocket and cup it over his nose before a couple desperate, messy sneezes exploded out of him. He sniffled thickly, coughing a couple times as his nose itched terribly. "Hh'ESCHEEW! hAH'KESHEW! Hh- heh- hH- heh'ETSCHEWW! hh'aASCHEW! hk'ATSCHEW!" He let out a quiet, relieved moan; it felt so good to finally be able to allow himself to sneeze after barely managing to hold it back all day.

"Yikes, that doesn't sound too good."

Aditya's head snapped up at the sound of another voice, managing a small smile at the familiar face of the friendly firefighter paramedic. "Hey, Levi," he croaked, sniffling and rubbing his nose with the soggy tissue in his hand. "Yeah, I- I've definitely caught a cold…"

Levi hummed, pulling up a chair and sitting beside him, placing the back of her hand on his forehead. "Mm, you're a little warm, but not too bad. You sound awful, though," she told him, pulling her hand away again.

He wished her hand had stayed on his forehead for a bit longer, yearning for a tender, caring touch, though he didn’t dare voice it. "I feel awful," he muttered, blowing his nose and letting out a few more irritated coughs. "But we're understaffed, and I kinda have to be here, so…"

She rolled her eyes. "It's emergency medicine. We're always understaffed. Doesn't stop everyone else from calling out all the time," she told him. "You'd tell anyone else to go home."

"I know, I know," he sighed, sniffling again. Aditya didn’t have a good excuse for that. Sure, he could tell her that he wasn't everyone else, that that didn't apply to him, that he had to be there, but he knew Levi would rip him a new one if he said any of it out loud. "But I can still be of use here. And I'm only working a 24 this time, so it's not that bad."

"A 24, if you're lucky," she replied, giving him a sympathetic look.

Aditya nodded ruefully. "If I'm lucky," he echoed, sniffling again as he tried to keep his nose from running.

"Holy shit, man, is that your voice right now?" Another medic walked in, raising a brow at Aditya. "You sound like shit."

Aditya sighed, waving at him. "Nice to see you, too, Matthew," he muttered, coughing as quietly as he could into the tissue.

"Lay off, Parker," Levi hissed, shooting him a pointed look. "He's sick."

"Yeah, no shit," Matthew responded, choosing to sit on the table rather than opting for a chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned closer to Aditya, looking the doctor up and down. "You got the plague or somethin'? What am I working with here?"

"Just a cold," Aditya assured him, sniffling again and rubbing his nose, trying and failing to stave off another sneeze. "H'ESHEW! hk'aATSCHEW! Hah- hh- hHH- h'ASCHEEW! hah'ETSCHEWW! hh'keESCHHEW!" He let out a quiet whine as he rubbed his red, swollen nose.

Matthew stared at him for a moment. "Goddamn. Alright, whatever you say," he muttered, shaking his head. Like Levi, he reached out to place his palm on Aditya's forehead, checking him for a fever. Unsatisfied with just that, Matthew pressed the backs of his fingers against his cheek. "Eh, you're not too feverish. You'll live."

Matthew's hand was calloused, but kind, his touch sweetly disarming to Aditya, who he couldn’t help but lean into his hand. He let his eyes slip shut, saying nothing, but feeling entirely too much. He wasn't entirely accustomed to any touch being so mercifully soft, and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh, allowing his body to relax a bit as he sucked in another sniffle.

Matthew froze in place, glancing over at Levi, who simply shrugged, and slightly nodded her head towards Aditya, silently urging him to continue on. With that, Matthew shifted his attention back to the sick doctor, gently rubbing his cheek with a finger, trying to comfort him, the stubble on Aditya's face a reminder that he'd need to shave himself soon.

Levi stood up to retrieve a box of tissues, then sat back down with it in her lap, offering a couple to Aditya. "Here. You look like you could use a whole lot more of these," she commented, giving him a lopsided smile.

He nodded, taking the tissues from her and managing a small, shy smile. Reluctantly, he leaned away from Matthew's touch, blowing his nose as quietly as he could, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment that all of the attention was on him. He coughed a few more times, desperately trying to keep his cold to himself, though he never was the best at containing his germs. His nose began twitching again, his breath hitching as he tried to fight back the urge to sneeze again, sniffling helplessly. "C-can I- hh- can I have an-nother ti- hiiH- hih’SCHEWW! hah'ETSCHEW! hk'ATSCHEW! h'aASCHHEEW!"

Levi couldn't manage to hand him a tissue in time, but was successfully able to grab a couple more tissues and cup them over his nose herself. If nothing else, at least being a paramedic meant her reflexes for catching other people's bodily fluids were razor sharp. The box of tissues had fallen off her lap when she'd jumped up, her free hand around his shoulders to provide gentle support as he pitched forward into her hand, the sneezes exploding out of him. "I got you," she murmured, rubbing his back soothingly.

Aditya sniffled miserably, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, not wanting to look at either of them after that display. "S-sorry…" he squeaked, coughing a few times into the tissues Levi still held for him, blushing heavily, wanting to reach up to take them from her, but being too mortified to move.

"It's fine, Adi. Really," she assured him, sliding her arm around him to give him a side hug and giving him a gentle squeeze. "We're all friends here."

Matthew nodded in agreement, reaching a hand out to affectionately ruffle Aditya's hair. "You want a coffee?" He asked, sliding himself off the table and walking towards the coffee maker in the break room. "It's what Hawkins and I came here for in the first place, so we're making some, anyway."

"Oh, yeah, I'll fucking die if I have to run another call before I can get any caffeine in my system," Levi replied, giving Aditya a wry smile. "Something warm might do you some good, though."

Aditya thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, that's- yeah, please. That sounds really nice," he said, glancing up at Levi, then over to Matthew, his tired eyes filled with immense gratitude. He tried his best to swallow down a fit of coughs, but couldn't manage to hold them back, and ducked his head, coughing into his hand.

Levi patted his back as he coughed, frowning in concern. "I know damn well a cough this bad didn't start just now," she muttered, soothingly rubbing his back as his coughing died down. "How long have you been sick?"

"All day…" he admitted, his voice weak. "I woke up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose, and it's just been getting worse… I ha- haah- haven't been able to stop sn- snee- hh'ESCHEEW! heh'eESCHHEW! heh'ETSCHEW! hah'kESCHHEWW! ht'SCHEEW! hh- hhH- hH'aASCHEW!" Aditya groaned, leaning forward to rub his aching nose with his fingers, his sinuses throbbing with congestion.

She winced in sympathy, picking up the tissue box and wordlessly holding it out to him. "Have you taken anything for this yet?" She asked, tilting her head slightly.

Aditya shook his head, taking a few tissues and blowing his nose several times, trying fruitlessly to clear his blocked nose. "Everything that helps makes me tired," he replied, sniffling thickly. "And I can't afford to be any more tired than I already am."

Levi hummed. "At least get some cough drops or something," she murmured, setting the tissues on the table in front of him. "Or, like, some Vick's."

"Or ibuprofen," Matthew butted in, dividing the coffee he'd made into three to-go cups.

Levi looked over her shoulder at him, narrowing her eyes at him. "He's on escitalopram, stupid," she told him, sticking her tongue out at him.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Just call it lexapro, you pretentious bitch," he shot back, sticking his tongue out in return.

She gave an eyeroll of her own. "I didn't suffer through pharmacology to not use actual drug names."

"And I didn't go into the fire service to have to use them."

"Sort of came with the medic license, though, didn't it?"

"So did the neck and shoulder pain. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."

Levi gave him a smug little smile. "So you admit that you have to use the proper terms, then? That it's not just optional for your dumb little firefighter brain?"

He snorted. "Shut the fuck up. We wear the same uniform." Matthew brought two of the cups back over to the table, setting one down and handing the other to Aditya with an easy smile. "A couple ibuprofen won't kill you, ya know."

Aditya held the cup in his hands, sniffling softly as he looked down at it. "I- I know that, but I just-" He sighed, taking a sip of the steaming beverage and grimacing; plain black coffee was always far too bitter for him, and it didn't help that it was the shitty break room coffee. "I just don't want to…"

Levi grabbed the cup Matthew had set on the table, attempting to gulp it all down in one go, but stopping immediately when the scalding liquid burned her tongue and damn near made her choke. She shook her head, then took a much slower sip as she looked over at Matthew, giving him a playful, knowing smirk. "He actually cares about his health. I know what a foreign concept that is to you, Parker."

He scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he huffed, going back to grab the other cup of coffee for himself. He glanced over at Aditya as he brought the cup to his lips. "Acetaminophen, then?"

Aditya thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, that's fine," he replied softly, feeling rather ashamed about the fact that he'd declined ibuprofen. He knew it worked better for him, he knew the chances of anything terrible happening were slim, but he just couldn’t bring himself to risk it. He barely even touched caffeine these days, as much as he could use it, too paranoid that something would go wrong. The coffee in his hands was an exception, he reasoned, and besides, it wasn't like he was even planning on drinking all of it. He took another sip, and sniffled again. "Sorry…"

Levi arched a brow. "What are you apologizing for?" She asked, sitting back down and swinging her legs a bit as she drank her coffee.

He was silent for a moment, trying to think of a response that wouldn't earn a lecture from the two firefighters. His breath hitched as he built up to another sneeze, saving him from having to answer. "hh- huhh- hHH- h'ASCHEEW! hah'ESCHEWW! hh'keESCHHEW! hk'aATSCHEW! h'ESCHEWW!" Aditya sneezed towards his lap, immediately beginning to cough once he'd finished, blood rushing to his already rosy cheeks as he fought for desperate little gasps of air between coughs.

"Fucking christ, man," Matthew muttered as he drank his coffee, looking at Aditya over the rim of the cup. "Don't keel over in here, of all places."

"Best place to do it, though, honestly," Levi replied, sighing as she gave Aditya a worried look. "Seriously, though, are you gonna be alright?"

He nodded. "I'll be fine," he whispered, not daring to speak louder lest he set off another coughing fit. "I know you guys have to get back to work."

"Yeah, unfortunately," Matthew grumbled, quickly gulping down the rest of his coffee and tossing the cup in the trash can. "I'll go grab some tylenol from the rig real quick. Oh, and we have hella pre-workout, if you need the extra energy boost."

Levi nodded. "Shit ton of flavors, too." She rolled her eyes playfully at Aditya's slightly horrified look. "Don't look at us like that. We've gotta survive those 3am calls somehow."

"That's- I'll manage without it," he replied, rubbing his nose with the back of his wrist.

"I'll just grab the pills, then," Matthew said, heading for the door.

"Parker!" Levi called, stopping him before he left. "They're in my-"

"I know where you keep them," he cut her off, continuing out the door and walking to the ambulance. He grabbed a couple pills from Levi's bag, then quickly brought them back, and offered them to the doctor, who quickly accepted them.

Aditya swallowed them down with a few more small sips of coffee, looking up to meet Matthew's eyes. "Thanks," he croaked, coughing a couple more times.

"Mhm, no problem. Just try not to die, will ya?" He said, giving him a grin. 

Levi shot Matthew a look, then gave Aditya a pat on the shoulder before checking her watch and standing up. "We should probably get going before dispatch loses their shit at us," she muttered, taking another sip of her coffee.

Matthew groaned, and tossed the keys to her, chuckling when she fumbled them and glared at him. "No way in hell am I driving again. You can do it for the next few hours," he said, stepping out of the break room before Levi could argue.

She huffed, though the smile on her face told him that she wasn't actually annoyed. She turned to look at Aditya one last time as she followed after Matthew. "We'll text you later," she told him, walking towards the door. "Maybe we can swing by your place once we clock out?"

That earned a genuine smile from Aditya, who nodded, his tired eyes brightening just a bit. "That'd be nice," he agreed, waving at them both as they walked out. His smile fell a bit as he watched the pair walk out together, Matthew laughing as he ruffled Levi's hair. For all their banter and playful bickering, it was clear that they really did care deeply about the other. Aditya didn’t know if he was jealous, or just lonely. He sighed, grabbing a couple handfuls of tissues and pocketing them, then grabbing one more to blow his nose into. He tossed the mostly untouched coffee and used tissues into the trash as he walked out, sniffling as he got back to work.

The poor man looked absolutely abysmal, his eyes watery and his nose red, taking in raspy breaths through his chapped lips. He was fortunate that none of the patients in the ER were critical, or needed a diagnosis or treatment that required much brain power. His job right now was just looking over the EKG results the techs ran, consulting with the nurses, checking in on patients and discussing treatment, and signing discharge papers, all of which was more than alright with him. It left him with more time to reconsider his life's choices.

His head was throbbing, and his sinuses felt like they were packed with concrete, and he was wondering why he'd even decided to work in a goddamn emergency department in the first place. It was miserable at best more than half the time, and truly, the nurses and ER techs did more for the patients than he ever did. Perhaps he would've been better off if he'd picked a different specialty; maybe cardiology, or even OB.

Or maybe he could've been a paramedic, had he wanted to stay in emergency medicine. The pay was much worse, but he could handle that if it meant he could still help people, and he'd always be working with a partner. Maybe even one he'd be close to, like Levi and Matthew were. The ER was a lonely place for him, despite the fact that he was constantly surrounded by a plethora of people, and the idea of working on an ambulance for hours with the same person to talk to and laugh with sounded awfully enticing, though he couldn't help but wonder if he was romanticizing it. And besides, he reasoned, it was too impersonal for him. The idea of picking someone up and handing them over to someone else to probably never see again didn't sit well with him at all. That, and his parents would’ve absolutely killed him had he even suggested a career in the medical field that was anything less than a doctor.

Another fit of deep, rattling coughs shook him from his thoughts. Adventitious breaths reverberated through his lungs, and he knew that he would undoubtedly hear the telltale sounds of rhonchi he was so used to hearing in his patients if he were to check. Tears stung at his eyes, though he managed to hold them back, albeit just barely. He groaned softly, shutting his eyes for just a moment and massaging his temples. Aditya cracked his eyes open again, and glanced at his watch, which told him that he was still on the clock for entirely too long. He thought for a moment about going home sick, but those thoughts were quickly dashed when one of the ER techs practically materialized in front of him, charts in hand.

"EKG from the patient in room 26," they said, handing it to Aditya. "Looks like a STEMI."

Fuck. So much for an easy rest of the day. He took the EKG, looking it over. Or, more accurately, squinting at it. On a good day without his reading glasses, it was a bit of a struggle to make out the thin lines of a cardiac rhythm, but he was sick, and gods, he couldn’t see shit, let alone make out an ST elevation. After a couple more seconds of struggling, he gave up, and decided to just trust the tech's judgment; they were rarely ever wrong, and they saw the patients for far longer and far more often than he did. "...I'll page cardio," he replied, immediately clearing his throat and coughing a couple more times when he realized just how awful he sounded. "Can you move the patient to the trauma bay?"

"Already on it." The tech took the EKG back, then turned around and walked off again.

Aditya tried desperately not to sneeze as he sent for one of the cardiologists on call, then headed for the trauma bay, his head foggy. It was already crowded with nurses and techs, bustling around and working with practiced ease. Aditya felt like he was playing the hardest game of jump rope, trying to figure out where to jump in and when. Normally, he was so good at figuring out where he was needed and what he was supposed to be doing, but the lights were so blindingly bright, and it was entirely too loud, and he felt like his head might split open.

Mercifully, the cardiologist arrived, taking a copy of the patient's EKG and looking it over once before handing it right back. "STEMI," he confirmed, already backing out of the trauma bay. "Bring her up to the cath lab when she's ready."

Aditya could work with that. He sniffled once more before pulling on a pair of gloves and placing himself at the patient's head as the nurses started IVs. "I need an intubation kit." He spoke as loud as he could manage, but it still wasn't much with how absolutely wrecked his throat felt. Nonetheless, it worked, and he was handed what was needed. He thought for a moment, then glanced over at one of the techs, blinking blearily at her for a moment as he struggled to form the words he wanted to say in his mind. "Um… did you- the patient, did- did anyone.. give her anything..?" He internally cringed at how bad that sounded, but he couldn’t think of a different way to ask in his current state.

She blinked at him, raising a brow in confusion. "...medication?" She asked, to which Aditya nodded. "Oh, yeah. Riley gave 5cc diazepam and 1cc midazolam IV a few minutes ago." She nodded her head towards one of the nurses.

Aditya nodded again. At least he knew that meant he was free to intubate, and he was certain he could manage to do that with practiced ease. Though, that was provided he didn't sneeze, which was a horrific thought, but one that was entirely likely. He sniffled thickly, and wrinkled his nose, trying to ward off the persistent tickle. He tilted the patient's head back and anchored it, then grabbed the blade, carefully inserting it into her mouth. Another sniffle, a squint to find the larynx, and he passed the tube through the trachea, breathing a sigh of relief when it went in smoothly.

He cleared his throat and swallowed, sniffling again as he removed his stethoscope from around his neck and checked the patient's breathing on both sides for a couple moments before giving the respiratory therapist a thumbs up and taking a step back, looping his stethoscope back around his neck. He watched the RT ventilate the patient for a moment, his gaze following the patient as one of the nurses and a tech helped wheel the patient out of the trauma bay and in the direction of the elevator.

He let out a soft sigh as the rest of the staff cleared the bay, then pulled off his gloves and threw them away. He held a hand beneath one of the hand sanitizer dispensers, and rubbed it into his hands, the strong scent of alcohol immediately hitting his already sensitive nose. Aditya's nostrils began flaring, his breath hitching, eyes tearing up as the urge to sneeze grew too overwhelming to ignore.

"Hh- hiiH- hhH- hHHH- hk'eESHEWW! hh'ESCHEW!" He sneezed desperately into his hand, coughing a few times and groaning, fishing another tissue from his pocket with his free hand and blowing his nose. He scrubbed at it with the tissue, wincing at the rough material scraping against his sore nose.

He felt like a walking biohazard, attempting to blow his nose one last time before tossing the soggy tissue into the trash and washing his hands. He felt awful exposing his coworkers to his cold, but at this point, it would be more trouble than it was worth to go home early. And besides, it was just a cold. He couldn’t justify going home over a stupid cold. He would simply have to finish up his shift, and hope that no big emergency happened so he wouldn't have to think and he could go home on time.

Luckily for him, the next few hours went by as smoothly as they could, and he clocked out and headed for his car. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he considered stopping somewhere to get food before heading home, but decided against it. He was exhausted, and didn't have much of an appetite, anyway. He tried to recall if he'd eaten at the hospital, but his brain was too foggy to remember if he'd allowed himself another break or stopped to grab a snack. It didn't matter, he decided, pulling into his driveway. He could always eat later.

Aditya was dead tired by the time he managed to drag himself into his house, practically falling through the door, but managing to keep himself upright. He briefly considered showering, figuring it might at least chase away some of his chills and relieve a bit of his congestion, but he decided against that, too; there was no way he could stay standing that much longer, and he didn't have the energy to run a bath.

"Hh- hhH- hiH- hh'keESCHHEW! h'ESCHEW! hhhH- huh'eETSCHEEW! hah'ETSCHEWW! hk'aATSCHEW!" Aditya let out several messy sneezes, sniffling miserably. He didn't bother covering his mouth; he was alone, anyway, and a quick glance at his watch reminded him that he would be for quite a while.

A bit of moisture clung to his eyelashes, which he tried to blink away, but the constant itch of his nose kept rewetting his eyes. He was absolutely miserable, curling up on the couch and clutching a pillow, close to tears as he held it tightly to his chest.

"h'ASCHEEW! hh'aASCHEWW! h'eESCHHEW! heh'ETSCHEW! ht'SCHEEW! hah'kESCHHEWW!" He could barely draw in a breath between sneezes, which he muffled into the pillow he held, sniffling and wiping his nose on it. Aditya let out a few painful coughs, groaning in agony at his aching throat and sore chest.

Everything hurt, and his limbs felt like lead. "hh'ESCHeww..!" He was too tired and breathless to even let out a satisfying sneeze, though it was still just as messy and productive as the rest, thick spray covering the pillow he was sneezing into.

Finally, the sob he'd been holding back choked its way out of his mouth, followed quickly by tears, like the first clap of thunder before the rain. His shoulders shook as he tried not to make a sound, having no reason to be silent, but having been conditioned to. His sniffles were the loudest thing about him, though the quiet whimpers coming from him were audible, as well.

Aditya coughed harshly, his body trembling. He wished more than anything that he wasn't alone, that someone would come through the door and help him, but like always, he was suffering alone and in silence. At best, Levi and Matthew would still be another few hours, and that was if they remembered he existed.

Truly, Aditya loved his friends, but their schedules tended to be less than predictable. And besides, it was stupid of him to expect them to come over right after they'd finished what he hoped was only a 48 hour shift. They both needed rest, too, and gods knew they deserved it, but the thought of being sick all by himself made him cry harder.

His cough was only getting worse, the fits much more frequent and intense now that he wasn't trying to hold them back. He was so tired, and his body was aching terribly. Aditya couldn't bring himself to move at all, not wanting to worsen the dull throb of congestion in his head. He was so cold, but couldn't muster the strength to even pull the blanket that was draped over the couch over his trembling body, trying to think of the last time he had felt so unwell, and what he had done then.

"hahH'ESCHHEW! hhk'eETSCHEWW! Hh- hhh- hHH- hh'kECHEWW! h'SCHHHEWW! h'ASCHEEW! hh'aASCHEWW! hah'ETSCHEWW!" His sneezes were constant, but no amount of them could satiate the itch in his nose. He sniffled, resorting to breathing through his mouth, which only irritated his throat more.

With a groan of discomfort, Aditya shut his eyes, trying to fall asleep before he started sneezing or coughing again. He held the pillow tighter, trying to imagine that he wasn't all alone, though he knew he was. Still, it couldn't hurt to just pretend for a while. He buried his face into the pillow, letting it absorb both his snot and his tears as he managed to doze off into a light, fitful sleep, too exhausted to do anything other than try to sleep. He could only hope that he would have the energy to at least attempt to take care of himself when he woke up.

[you-will-return]

--

(I keep telling myself that I won't post it and then I don't and then I feel annoyed with myself but I tell myself that I shouldn't post it and then I don't and-)

[seventh-district]

Well, I grew up wishin' I could close off the way my dad did 'Cause that man never felt a damn thing he didn't wanna feel But I've burned too many miles tryna ride out all the sadness But you can't outdrive pain, someday it's gonna take the wheel Can't be alone but don't wanna get close to anybody Don't wanna bare teeth but don't wanna look weak, it's a tough spot But I'm afraid you'll walk away when the tears start runnin' But I hope not 'Cause cowboys cry too

thinking about Sam...

[goblin-enjoyer]

I swear why are half the things i like/fandoms im in made of mostly younger people while the other half are mostly older people? what are the zoggin odds with that?

How it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 30-40 somethings.

VS how it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 14-17 somethings.

like am do i just have extremely odd luck with things i like or is this just what being 20 is like?

[dawning-day]

what if i said kevin day was one thousand million percent a piano kid growing up. what then

[lucalicatteart]

A character reference sheet sort of thing for the main character of the Poll Adventures, drawn more in my usual style (taking a picture of messy pencil sketches then coloring it digitally lol) rather than the cutesy ms paint style of the daily poll images .. there he is.. the adventure boy..

[sysig]

Tainted batch (Patreon)

[abyssembraced]

I'm hesitant to outright promise anything, but I'm hoping to get to my owed replies sometime soon? At least the ones I owe for Ghost, anyway.

I'm also open to plot new threads for either Ghost or Rouxls! Admittedly, I'm not sure how much time I'll have to sit down and Discuss things this week, mind you, but I'm willing to give it a shot! Finishing my currently owed replies will have to take priority over writing any new starters or replies for new threads, though, since I've owed them for a frankly ridiculous amount of time and I feel really bad for putting them off for so long, but plotting and planning stuff is good!

[fading-event-608]

Listen, I know, you all have been seeing fundraiser posts all day long. I've seen people complain that the tags for Palestine are "unusable" now because… genocide victims use it to find aid to survive.

Thing is, those posts will be here until Israel ceases it's aggression. And Palestinians will need your aid as far as they are left with no income and besieged. I've tried reaching out to other platforms, and Tumblr is still the best place for at least Falastin (Gazan who I spotlight for more than 2 months) to get donations; because here you don't need thousands of followers to get interactions. And at least we get one in ten response here; on other platforms both of us don't get any.

So yes, a dying website for fandom is her best bet to save her family right now. We don't speak of evacuation anymore (even though we hope for it), this is a battle for day-to-day survival. The prices in Gaza are increasing every hour, and they have no income and Falastin has gone into multiple debts to help them before starting the campaign in June. And yes, she receives more attention now but her family is still in starvation - she tries to support 26 people now, since her cousin was martyred and his 2 children joined 24 of her family in Al-Mawasy.

Yes, they should get free aid from all those countless non-profits that raise millions. But if they see something labelled as "aid" it is because they have bought it themselves. Yes, you can see (and maybe touch!) aid if you subject yourself to hours-long queues and/or humiliation of being a part of a photoshoot. They also said that the aid they get is stale at best and spoiled at worst; and that's again, if they get it.

Yes, there are grassroots organizations but they cannot reach everyone, because they are in small teams and they don't receive a lot of funds. And you can of course donate to them to try "fix" this; but please do not think that it means individual fundraisers are not worth supporting. I did not see any evidence of individual fundraisers "taking" money from others; on the contrary, when Falastin's fundraiser struggles, I see others struggle too. When we celebrate a good day of donations we celebrate it with others too.

And I could talk about Harris campaign get 1 billion in donations and still receiving them or how AO3 got 200k in a couple of days; but the post is getting too long.

Anyway. Please consider donating to Falastin's campaign; the money would buy food and water first, shelter and clothes for the winter second. There's a raffle for hand-made Palestinian thobe that Falastin's friend makes (LINK); and please follow her here.

Donate via Gofundme (in SEK! check rates below please): LINK

10$ = 108 SEK

25$ = 272 SEK

50$ = 544 SEK

100$ = 1,088 SEK

Donate via PayPal (in USD): LINK

Vetting info: #282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here], #957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here]

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

These are a couple doodles from yesterday, Gideon as a younger teen, before the growth spurt, maybe 14? He's discovered he's a vampire, and has a lot of recovery to do, since he's severely blood deficient.

I'm gonna let myself explode about my vampire gideon ideas, under construction, under the cut: (I don't write fanfiction, I just throw up my ideas on a tumblr post, apparently :'D)

This is what I love about tumblr - it's a place where I can throw the doodles (something that isn't finished *artwork*), and let myself be really delusional about fictional characters. So I'm gonna take a moment to ramble about the ideas I have for Gideon as a vampire.

If you're a fellow Gideon Head, HI THERE... anyway, here's my thought process on a potential vampire-gideon backstory???

I've always liked the idea of gideon being a vampire, and also becoming a much better person when he's older. And that got me thinking, maybe those two things are linked. Maybe the vampire thing is somehow tied into his reformation.

But I tend to lean towards building my ideas off canon (as opposed to making an AU). And if gideon was a vampire, and knew this during the events of the show, it would have come to light at some point. So, either he doesn't know he's a vampire, or he becomes one later. Becoming one later works narratively, but he's already so vampiric, with the white hair, pale skin, sunscreen, evil, etc. So I'm like, let's go with that.

So, gideon has gone his whole life without knowing he's a vampire, and without drinking blood. I'm thinking that being a vampire in this case (my gravity falls fan version of what a vampire would be) wouldn't adhere to typical vampire conventions. You don't NEED to drink blood to survive.

Here's the idea I got yesterday: after the events of weirdmageddon, gideons experience motivated him to become a better person. It was the awakening, basically. But in the subsequent years, he's still a little shit. Maybe he's in juvenile detention, or prison again. But now, he has the self awareness to know that what he's doing is wrong. This is where my ideas get a little fuzzy, so bear with me. Bud has his suspicions, and as a last resort, puts gideon on some sort of mission trip type of cross country trip, when he's in his teens. And along the way, maybe at the end, there's this secret group of vampires that open gideons eyes to what he really is.

Basically??? Without blood, gideon is very evil. He's an evil little shit. This may not be how it is for every vampire. Maybe some grow very sickly without blood, just get hungry, etc. The effects of blood deficiency vary from vampire to vampire. But Gideon becomes very unhinged. And he'd essentially been Blood Hangry for his whole life. That being said, some of it was just his personality that he needed to work through, but drinking some blood helped a LOT. Blood isn't food for him, it's more like his medication.

Once he has that discovery, he spends a long while, I'm thinking maybe even a year, just recovering from the deficiency. He's almost always drinking blood to keep up his levels, and he's very rarely seen in public to keep the vampire thing a secret. That's what these drawings were supposed to be, him in his pseudo bedridden state. This period in his life would be one big blur; mostly spent binge watching soap operas and being all cozy. In contrast to his usual suit + tie, he's dressing for max comfort: sweatpants, sweatshirt, a knit hat over his ridiculously big hair, and always wrapped in a blanket. Not sure if somehow he feels cold when drinking blood?? But for some reason, I feel like he'd always be wearing like 10 layers and laying under a heated blanket or something.

Eventually, he'd only need to drink blood about once a month for maintenance.

Character development wise - even as an adult, Gideon isn't sure if he's truly a good person. Is the blood deficient version of himself the true gideon? Or is this well adjusted man who he truly is? And there's an issue of the chicken and the egg, too. Gideon was born a vampire. Did these genes activate because he was predisposed to being evil? Or did the vampire thing happen by coincidence? Does being a vampire make him evil, or is it the other way around? He doesn't know, and he never will.

The one thing I'm not sure I like about this idea: i'm worried that I'd be writing off his villainous personality as an illness that can be cured with a thing. Obviously, it would be better if he faced that head on, and figured out how to be better. So I'm still grappling with that. But for now, this is an idea I'm entertaining. Of course, I think it would be interesting if there was a plot point where his usual source of ethically sourced human blood was compromised for a time, and he had to grapple with his personality going topsy turvy.

It's actually embarrassing how much I just wrote???? If you've made it this far, wow, I applaud you. I guess this was just my idea of having a good sunday night, writing down my silly thoughts on gideon gosh darn gleeful. Let me know your thoughts too!!!! I'd love to know if you have any ideas, or questions, or ways to strengthen this potential backstory.

[yueebby]

2 + 1 — gojo satoru

synopsis. two times megumi thinks gojo is a lost cause and one time he approves of the white haired idiot

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, ooc, misogyny (from the clan heads), he is so pathetic for his wife (nauseating!), slight yandere behavior, violence, in megumi’s pov, not proofread eep

notes. can you tell i've been obsessed with the apothecary diaries? >< also how long has it been since i've posted a fic? anyways... enjoy!

fushiguro megumi has always wondered how that blue eyed idiot managed to marry you. he must have resorted to underhanded tactics; or at least that's what the sea urchin suspects. though he's never voiced it, the question has bothered him since the day he first encountered the both of you.

nobara clicks her tongue. “this is borderline creepy.” her orange eyes are filled with nothing short of distaste.

“there’s more too,” megumi’s voice responded, carefully flipping the page. the delicate artifact in his hand is something that he should have not touched. perhaps he should have wrapped it with a talisman and destroyed it while he had the chance.

it was too late for that anyway, because not even a second later, gojo satoru bursts through the shoji doors of the classroom. 

with eyes blown wide as if they were caught committing a crime (they were), the first years who had pulled three seats up to a singular desk stare at him. satoru's eyes widen behind his blindfold as he catches sight of the object of their focus.

there lies in the middle of the wooden desk was the physics textbook that all first year jujutsu tech students were required to read. however, this wasn’t just any plain old textbook. it was gojo satoru’s former textbook. brimmed with doodles of their beloved [name] sensei and gojo himself when they were back in highschool.

any free space that was not filled with words were taken up by drawings of you inside of hearts and sometimes a depiction of a chibi version of the two of you.

a true testament to gojo satoru’s pining and devotion to you.

“sensei, we can explain–” yuji attempts to explain himself but gojo holds up a hand to silence the boy. 

unlike you, megumi finds it a lot more challenging to read the white haired sorcerer’s expression with the blindfold on. he wonders if his punishment will be a painful beating disguised as a sparring session (megumi will run to you, who will scare gojo into backing down). you have that effect on him.

it seems like the heavens have answered megumi’s prayers because gojo satoru doesn’t seem to harbor any anger at his shocking revelation.

“i can’t believe you guys found this old thing.” satoru dismisses his students’ personal space by leaning closely to observe the pages. the black haired boy makes a noise of disapproval, but was quickly cut off by his benefactor. “megumi, be grateful that i’m in a good mood today.” he doesn’t elaborate the ominous message, rather choosing to hum happily as he studies his own drawings.

megumi is smart enough to keep his mouth shut. 

“i never took you to be the pathetic type,” kugisaki continues to flip through the pages of the textbook. yuji nods furiously, as if to agree to her observation.

“you seriously never noticed?” megumi mutters under his breath.

gojo places a strong hand on megumi’s back, a languid smile on his face, “it was only natural, considering the lengths i had to go through to win her over.” he ignores the way megumi gasps for air.

“seriously?” itadori asks in disbelief.

“seriously.” gojo confirms wholeheartedly.

megumi shudders, recollecting memories of times before gojo tied you down for good.

2009

“sorry i’m late!” gojo bursts through the dingy apartment door with a convenience store bag in his arm. he was breathing heavily, an indication that he had run to the apartment. an uninterested seven year old megumi doesn’t bother leaving his place on the couch to greet his benefactor.

“they’re in the kitchen,” he says in his monotone voice, eyes never leaving the book that you had just gifted him.

“they?” gojo walks up to megumi to ruffle his hair aggressively. he receives a hiss in return.

“tsumiki and [name]?” the black haired kid says it like it was obvious. his sentence is accompanied with an eyeroll.

at the mention of your name, gojo immediately perks up. megumi imagines that if he were a cat, his ears would be swiveling and his nose twitching, attuned to pick up any trace of your presence. he had just learned that from the nonfiction book in his lap. 

“[name]?! here? now?” gojo’s eyebrows are raised all the way to his forehead. the white haired sorcerer immediately started fixing his uniform and hair. megumi thinks it was comical. he was a lost cause.

the snarky look on his face is quickly wiped off when he sees gojo leaning down, mouth wide open.

“oi brat, check my breath,” gojo opens his mouth wide for megumi to check. the black haired kid shrivels up into the couch the further gojo leans down. megumi considers summoning his newly discovered jujutsu technique, hoping to avoid his fate.

“—toru? what are you doing?” your voice, like a divine intervention, stops gojo from sending megumi to the depths of despair. a sigh of relief escapes his lips.

now it was his turn to watch gojo squirm. the older male’s face contorts to an awkward smile and all of a sudden gojo is reduced to nothing but a mess.

“don’t worry about it darling!” gojo slowly turns around to face you. “agh—?!”

megumi has to peek around satoru’s big frame to see what elicited such a response from the man.

he’s met with a wave of underwhelming familiarity. there you stand, clad in a frilly apron with a wooden spoon in hand, the essence of domesticity incarnate. the soft glow of the warm kitchen lights dances around you, casting a warm aura that seems to envelop the room.

“welcome home, satoru.” you give him your signature closed eye smile. “i mean, you probably don’t consider it your home but—“

you’re cut off by satoru banging his head on the nearest wall repeatedly. he’s muttering something under his breath that you don’t hear.

to his dismay, megumi's keen ears catch every syllable. satoru's voice, though hushed, carries a hint of longing, "what an angel," he whispers, his words laced with adoration. "just marry me already."

unamused, he watches while you try to desperately pry gojo from his strange outburst.

a lost cause indeed.

2009

in that very year, megumi learns that gojo’s efforts to win your affection had yielded no progress. it had become increasingly apparent that his frequent visits to megumi and tsumiki's humble home were motivated to immerse himself in the semblance of domesticity that your presence offered. megumi almost pitied the man, if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew you deserve someone more sensible.

me

[name]

[nameeeee]

i’m dying.

and it’s your fault t^t

[name] ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

excuse me?

me

i’ll have you know that i worked the hardest that i have ever worked to finish all of my paperwork so i could see you tonight… only to find out from megumi that you’re on a date?!!?

i feel like my chest is caving in. 

i’m going to throw up.

[name] ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

oh this is what you’re interrupting my date for?

me

i’m going to be sick.

please tell me, is he hotter than me? wealthier? funnier?

megumi quickly looks away from gojo’s phone screen when the white haired male slams it shut and mutters under his breath a couple of curses. he’s pretty sure half of them were death threats.  honestly, couldn't you have attracted someone with more dignity?

“change of plans,” gojo claps his hands together. “movie night’s off.”

“what?” megumi protests, confusion etched in his features.

“our beloved [name] is getting swept off of her feet. you wouldn’t want that to happen, right?” gojo continues, his tone light but his gaze sharp as it bores into megumi's soul. something unpleasant coils in the pit of his stomach.

megumi feels a chill run down his spine, his mind racing with the implications of gojo's words. if you choose to date this new guy, he realizes, you won't need him or gojo anymore. and that thought terrifies him. it pains megumi to feed into gojo's delusions.

but he can’t let this unnamed suitor steal you away.

a wolfish grin makes its way to gojo’s mouth when he realizes that he’s won.

“what's the plan?”

2016

it was only years later that megumi had seen the true monster that lurks inside of gojo satoru. 

on a hot summer evening, amidst a gathering of esteemed clan heads, he and satoru found themselves in a traditional chamber. while the finer details of the meeting escape his memory, the image of the room that altered his perception of gojo satoru is etched in his mind indefinitely. the wooden walls, adorned with subtle yet elegant designs, speak volumes about the room’s significance as a venue for the most influential members of jujutsu society.

throughout the meeting, he finds himself driving in and out of focus, content to let his mentor represent the gojo clan. however, his attention is abruptly seized by a particular remark that cuts through the haze of his thoughts.

“how’s that whore of yours, gojo?” a clan head jeered, clearly drunk on the sake that was constantly refilled by the servant on the side. his flushed complexion is scarcely discernible thanks to the dim glow emanating from the few lanterns scattered around the room. 

there was only one person he could have been referring to: you. underneath the wooden table, his fingers tightened painfully into fists. pretentious bastards, megumi thinks.

another geezer rubbed his beard thoughtfully, “she has a nice body. perfect to be a concubine, but i would marry a more submissive woman.”

megumi's gaze stealthily darts towards gojo, seated beside him.

he’s startled to find the white-haired man wears a wide grin that belies a hidden truth. unseen by the elders before them, lurking beneath gojo's outward expression, is a manic gleam in his eyes—a revelation that sends a shiver down megumi's spine.

“i’d hold my tongue if i were you.” gojo satoru’s voice was dripping with venom. he sounded downright murderous.

"i'm right, am i not? we can share her if you'd like- name the price." the drunkard continues loudly.

megumi senses an instinctive wave of primal dread washing over him, compelling him with an urgent, almost instinctual need to flee or die.

before he can move a muscle, the flames that surround the room flicker before extinguishing in succession by an unknown force. the metallic stench of blood fills the air and all he can hear is the sound of flesh mutilating and bones crushing accompanied by the painful shouts of the men that once sat in front of him. he doesn’t have to see it with his own eyes to be able to sense gojo’s strong curse residue that suffocates the room.

“stand up megumi. we’re leaving.” his voice carries a feral edge, leaving no room for objection.

on their way out of the compound, the two don’t utter a word at what had just transpired. 

megumi's gaze remains fixed on the ground beneath his feet, the images of the recent events swirling in his mind, leaving him unsettled and shaken. with each step, he grapples with the unsettling realization that beneath gojo satoru's charismatic facade lies a darker, more sinister nature.

the strongest sorcerer of today, riled up by the mere mention of your name.

megumi supposes he doesn’t feel much remorse for those clan heads anyway. he was never the type to mourn over people he didn’t know dying. especially not people who he knew would live on to do evil. it doesn’t help that they were blatantly disrespecting you. perhaps he could sympathize with the monster inside of gojo.

oblivious to the turmoil that stirs inside of megumi, gojo starts to smile.

“i know what you’re going to say,” gojo hums happily. “gojo sensei, you’re so cool! i approve of you marrying my beloved [name]! kyaa~’” he makes a pathetic attempt to imitate megumi. 

the black haired boy grunts. he was going to say something along the lines of his approval for his benefactor, but all desires of flattering the white haired sorcerer disappeared.

gojo watches the black haired boy intently before tutting.

“not that it matters.” megumi is startled to hear how his voice dropped an octave. “i was always going to marry [name] and i’ll be damned to let anyone stop me.” 

2018 – present day

after satiating his students with tales from his pining days, your husband comes home often clingier than normal (is that even possible?). the moment satoru enters your home, his arms envelop you, caging you in his hold.

you can't help but giggle as his hair brushes against the side of your neck, his embrace pulling you in close, as if he's inhaling your presence.  his muscles flex when you attempt to slip away, keeping you in his tight embrace.

“sato– what is going on?!” 

“is it a crime to show my wife some love?” he kisses your neck. when his flurry of kisses stop, he resorts to absorbing all of your features with those cerulean eyes of his.

you don’t bother pushing him away again, choosing to thread your fingers through his soft hair. even after all these years, you will never not feel the effect of satoru’s eyes on you.

“i was telling my first years about you today,” he says softly.

you smile, “is that so?”

he pushes his nose into your neck again, nodding.

“you’re so good to them,” you whisper. despite the initial shock behind satoru choosing to pursue education, you’re extremely proud of how far he’s come.

“mhm,” satoru inhales. “i’d be good to our little ones too.” one of his hands sneak to your stomach.

you delicately guide his face away from your form, your fingers tenderly urging him to meet your gaze. "is there something you want to tell me?" you inquire softly, your eyes reflecting the warmth of your affection.

satoru's smirk deepens, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "perhaps," he murmurs, his touch light as he guides you towards the bedroom. without hesitation, you yield to his lead, eager at his sudden intimate gesture.

from outside your home, three first year students stand, waiting for their sensei’s cue to enter.

“do you think he’s forgotten about us?” yuji furrows his eyebrows, hands full of grocery bags that were going to be prepared for dinner.

extra notes. had the idea of gojo and megumi crashing your date in my drafts for so long. maybe ill elaborate on it if the ppl want to see :,)

[genshinluvr]

Territorial

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Zhongli x Isekai'd!Reader x Neuvillette

Summary: Things seem to be going well when the men from Fontaine moved into the abode. Or at least that's what the others thought. You, however, can sense some tension between Zhongli and Neuvillette.

Note: How long has it been since I've posted something? A year? Over a year? Either way, I am somewhat back! Since I haven't posted fanfics in a long time, the new fanfics will be shorter compared to the previous fanfics. I'm slowly easing myself back into posting fanfics. This fic is most likely awful, but that's okay because it's been a while. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: I haven't written in a while, so, it's probably a shit fanfic LMAO

Word Count: 4.5k

Ever since the men of Fontaine decided to move into the abode, things were relatively fine. The men got along with each other, and there have yet to be any arguments or physical altercations. Yet. However, you couldn’t help but notice a certain someone avoiding one of the new members of the abode. You weren’t sure if everyone noticed the brewing tension between an Archon and the Iudex, but it was subtle yet noticeable (to you). 

The men didn’t have an issue sharing your love, affection, and attention with the others. While there are certain men who can be quite possessive (Childe), it usually never gets out of hand. Or, at least, that’s what you thought. Zhongli has been clingy lately— not that you’re complaining, but it was a little bit unusual because he’s not publicly affectionate. Even if he is openly affectionate with you, it wouldn’t be overbearing. Okay, maybe overbearing isn’t the right word to describe it.

“Maybe territorial is the best way to describe it.” You mutter.

Zhongli hums beside you, looking over at you curiously. “Care to repeat that, dearest?”

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts before rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish smile. “Oh, nothing! I was trying to find a word to describe a Rishboland Tiger for my word puzzle!” You gesture to the word puzzle book in front of you. 

Zhongli leans toward you, peering over your shoulders and at the word puzzle in front of you. His amber eyes scan the page as if he’s checking to see if you’re doing the puzzle correctly. Thankfully, you are! Zhongli hums, stroking the rim of his teacup, preoccupied with the puzzle book. You rub your eyes before glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s almost eight in the morning, and yet here you are! Usually, you’d be in bed, sleeping the morning away until someone forces you out of bed (the person forcing you to wake up is usually Al Haitham). 

“And territorial would be correct,” Zhongli nods, smiling at you, “you’re doing well.”

You smile shyly before covering your now very warm face with the word puzzle book. Zhongli chuckles, pressing a kiss on the side of your head before proceeding to stir his warm cup of tea. A comfortable silence falls over you and Zhongli. Aside from you and Zhongli, everyone is still asleep in their respective rooms. Well, aside from Childe and Wriothesley because the two men decided to become gym buddies who get up at ungodly hours to workout, spar, and box. Given Childe's past in Fontaine, you can’t help but find it slightly odd.

Heels clicking against the floors of the abode pulls you and Zhongli out of the comfortable silence. Zhongli lets out a long exhale through his nostrils before taking a long sip of his tea, looking elsewhere. You look to see Neuvillette standing at the entrance of the dining area, gazing at you and Zhongli with surprise.

“Good morning, [Y/N], … Archon,” Neuvillette says, stepping farther into the room.

You smile at Neuvillette, waving at the Iudex. “Morning, Neuvillette! I’m surprised to see that you’re awake around this time of day.”

Neuvillette chuckles, pulling a seat out from beside you before sitting. “I could say the same thing for you, [Y/N]. You’re never up this early, but today is different. Why?” Neuvillette looks at you intently. 

A look of surprise flashes across your face before you smile at the Fontainian man. “Zhongli asked me to join him for breakfast, and here I am!”

Neuvillette hums, nodding. “I see. Now, did Deus Auri rouse you from your slumber for breakfast, or was this initially planned the day before?” Neuvillette interrogates.

You blink at Neuvillette and turn to look at Zhongli, who looks visibly annoyed with the Iudex. Zhongli gives Neuvillette a tight-lipped smile before sipping his tea, unanswering Neuvillette’s question. Without you knowing, Neuvillette shoots a subtle glare at Zhongli while Zhongli continues to drink his tea, ignoring the discreet yet heated glare thrown his way. You clear your throat before turning towards Neuvillette, only to see him brushing a stray hair away from his face. 

You can’t help but admire Neuvillette’s long hair. His hair looks so soft, and you kind of want to run your fingers through them. “I wonder what kind of hair products he uses. His hair looks so silky and healthy.”

“Oh, nothing special in particular. If you like to know what I use for my hair care routine, I can show you.” Neuvillette suggests. 

You stare at Neuvillette owlishly, mouth agape. “Did I say that out loud?”

Neuvillette smiles and takes a sip from his chalice while you’re sputtering and looking over at the Funeral Consultant with wide eyes. Should you reply to Neuvillette’s offer? But he has a hair care routine! Wait, if he has a hair care routine, is it possible that Neuvillette might have a skincare routine? Your hand starts to tremble— not out of fear, but excitement and a bit of anxiousness because you accidentally said your thoughts out loud.

Zhongli stares at Neuvillette before placing a hand over your trembling ones. “To answer your question, Monsieur Neuvillette, I invited [Y/N] to breakfast the day prior,” Zhongli says, grabbing Neuvillette’s attention. “Isn’t that right, dearest?”

You smile and nod. “That is correct! Zhongli invited me to breakfast yesterday afternoon! We walked around the abode, watched the sunrise, and here we are!” You gesture to the table happily. 

Neuvillette presses his lips in a thin line, nodding. The three of you continue to sit in silence in the dining room, listening to birds sing in the distance. The more you continue with the puzzle book, the more you become confused. You start to bounce your right leg, tapping the pencil against the booklet, staring at number fifty. 

“How the hell did I get into the Akademiya when I’m struggling with this damn puzzle?” You mumble to yourself.

“The answer is Fortress of Meropide,” Neuvillette says, his voice right next to your ear. 

You pause and look at Neuvillette, freezing, when you realize how close your faces are. You can’t help but notice Neuvillette briefly looking down at your lips before making eye contact with you. If your face wasn’t feeling hot already, then it is now. The longer you gaze into Neuvillette’s eyes, the more you realize how breathtaking he is. 

“You have long lashes.” You mutter.

Before Neuvillette can respond, Zhongli clears his throat loudly. Your eyes quickly dart to your puzzle book, breaking eye contact with the handsome and breathtaking Iudex of Fontaine. Fortress of Meropide, huh? You scribble down the answers, and lo and behold, the words fit into the small boxes perfectly. 

You press your lips into a thin line, looking at Neuvillette from the corner of your eyes. “Thank you for helping me,” you whisper.

Neuvillette hums softly, taking a sip of water from the chalice. “You’re welcome. If you need any other assistance, I am more than happy to help.” Neuvillette says.

The clock ticks away, and you find yourself in another comfortable silence. Only this time, the silence isn’t as comfortable as before. Is Zhongli sitting much closer to you than he was a few minutes ago? Neuvillette keeps glancing over your shoulders, watching you write the answers in the boxes. It’s almost like both men are glaring at each other when you're not looking (they are, but you’re trying your best to act like you didn’t notice the ever-growing tension between the two refined men).

The door to the abode suddenly bursts open, and Wriothesley and Childe enter, drenched in sweat and with a towel around their necks. Childe and Wriothesley stop at the entrance, looking at the three of you with surprise.

Childe points an accusing finger at you three, “Why are you two all up in my snookum’s space?” Childe marches over, huffing and puffing about Zhongli and Neuvillette's lacking manners when being around you— his precious snookums who can do no wrong in his eyes. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, chuckling while wiping the sweat from his forehead with the white towel around his neck.

“Geez, Childe, you can’t hog them to yourself,” Wriothesley mutters, watching the ginger-haired man snatch you up from your seat. 

You’re thrashing in Childe’s arms, swatting at him while muttering how sweaty he is. Childe ignores your protest and drapes his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into your hair. You shudder, feeling his sweaty skin stick to yours— almost melting and becoming your second skin. 

Your nose scrunches up with disgust when you catch a whiff of his sweat. “You’re sweaty and smelly. Go take a shower,” you order, patting his head— only to regret it immediately. 

Childe shakes his head, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “How can I shower in peace when I witnessed my snookums sandwiched between two men who aren’t me?” Childe looks up from your neck, glaring at Zhongli and Neuvillette, who, in return, glare back at him. 

You poke Childe’s forehead. “Can you let go of me? I have a puzzle to finish.”

Childe shakes his head. “I’m not letting go of you until you return my hug, snookums.”

Sometimes, you underestimate Childe’s stubbornness and clinginess. It’s not like you don’t want to hug him! You love his hugs! However, you have an issue with hugging people when you or that person is sweaty— you don’t know why, but you don’t like it and cannot tolerate the feeling of stickiness. You grumble under your breath and reluctantly wrap your arms around Childe’s waist, squeezing your eyes shut when you feel Childe’s sweat seep through his shirt. Childe sighs happily and peppers your face with kisses, making sure to make it loud enough for the others to hear the obnoxious smooching noises. 

“That’s enough, Childe,” Zhongli says sternly, glaring at Childe from where he’s sitting.

Neuvillette huffs, swishing the water in his chalice while muttering, “Have some decorum, Harbinger.”

Childe pauses what he’s doing and glances over at Zhongli and Neuvillette. The two men shoot daggers in Childe’s direction, and Childe can see the veins on their foreheads threatening to pop. With a shit-eating grin, Childe proceeds to do what he was doing earlier— suffocate you with his kisses in front of the very irritated Zhongli and Neuvillette and an amused Wriothesley.

Wriothesley shakes his head, snorting, “He’s just fucking with you two, and you two are letting him win.”

Zhongli and Neuvillette don’t respond afterward; they only continue to glare at Childe from the corners of their eyes. After some time, Childe finally releases you from his sweaty grasp, though not before placing one last sloppy kiss on your face. You give Childe a tight-lipped smile before debating whether you should take a shower or continue your puzzle book.

“Snookums~!” Childe whines, sniffling dramatically.

Wriothesley rolls his eyes with a snort. “You’re even clingier than [Y/N] claimed,” Wriothesley smirks, pushing himself away from the counter before sauntering to where you stand.

You look at Wriothesley, suddenly feeling on edge. Why is he suddenly approaching you with that smug grin on his face? Is he up to something? Wriothesley pushes Childe to the side, causing the ginger-haired man to stumble and glare at the Duke. 

Before Wriothesley can say anything, you hold up an index finger. “What are you up to?” you ask cautiously.

Wriothesley laughs, his laughter sending tingles down your spine. “I’m just testing something. Relax for me,” He murmurs. 

You audibly gulp, causing the man before you to let out an airy laugh, his canines shining under the dining room lights. Wriothesley, now standing three feet in front of you, gestures to you to step forward with his index and middle finger. You inch forward, feeling multiple eyes on the back of your head as you get closer to Wriothesley. 

Once you’re standing in front of Wriothesley, you look anywhere but his face, worrying the smug smile will send you to your knees. Noticing your lack of eye contact, Wriothesley gently grabs you by the chin, tilting your head up. Archons, is the dining room hot, or is it just you? Wriothesley gazes into your eyes, the corner of his lips quirking up. With his free hand, Wriothesley caresses your cheek before chuckling. “My, my. Your face is quite hot. Are you feeling alright, dollface?” 

“You’re up to something, I just know it,” You whisper, narrowing your eyes at him.

Wriothesley chuckles, leans down, and murmurs into your ears, “As I said earlier, I’m just testing something. Do you trust me?” His breath fans your ear and the side of your face, causing goosebumps to form on your body.

He’s up to something, and the alarms are going off in your head. You’re not worried about what Wriothesley is up to! What you’re worrying about is how Childe (and Neuvillette and Zhongli) are going to react to what Wriothesley is going to do. Wriothesley leans down toward your neck, catching a whiff of your lotion and body wash. “Hmm, you smell nice. Are you wearing the lotion I bought for you while I was away in Fontaine?” He pulls away and gazes at you with curiosity, his head tilting to the side.

You can’t help but melt under his gaze. You gulp again, nodding your head. Wriothesley nods and pulls away from you. Wriothesley strokes his chin, gazing at you intently. You can’t help but squirm under Wriothesley’s piercing stare. He suddenly places both beside your neck, tilting your head to the side.

“Good. It makes me happy to know you’re wearing something I got for you. I’ll get you more the next time I return to Fontaine for work,” Wriothesley nods.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly shake your head. “No, no! You don’t have to get me anything, Wriothesley! I insist!” You protest, placing your right hand over his left.

Zhongli clears his throat, grabbing your and Wriothesley’s attention. If Zhongli hadn’t been annoyed already, then he certainly is now. Wriothesley clears his throat before walking away— but not without kissing the side of your head. Zhongli sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering incoherent words to himself. You swallow the lump in your throat before sitting back down. 

Neuvillette hums, stroking his chin. “There is a rather compelling trial that is being held at the Opera Epiclese. Your thoughts and presence would be most welcome should you wish to observe the proceedings alongside me.”

Your eyes light up, and you gasp with excitement. “Ooh, I can!? I would love to join you, Neuvillette!” You squeal, clapping your hands.

It’s not like you’re excited to see someone get possibly executed— what you’re looking forward to is being able to witness how trails take place in Fontaine. Instead of witnessing the trial from behind your computer screen, you get to see it with your very own eyes! 

Zhongli clears his throat. “Dearest, I must remind you that you have some projects to turn in today at the Akademiya.”

Your eyes widen, and the pencil in your hand clatters on the table. Wait, what project!? You have projects to turn in at the Akademiya!? You rack through your brain, trying to recall if you really did have projects that need to be submitted. 

Neuvillette narrows his eyes at Zhongli, raising an eyebrow with skepticism. Zhongli ignores Neuvillette’s stare and proceeds to sip from his teacup. Right when you’re about to open your mouth to question Zhongli, Al Haitham enters the dining room, dressed and ready for the day. 

You sigh in relief, push yourself up from your seat, and stride to the Scribe. “Al Haitham! Can you help me jog my memory really quick?”

Al Haitham raises his eyebrows at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course. What is it that you need me to assist you with?”

“I agreed to go watch today’s trial proceeding in Fontaine with Neuvillette, but Zhongli reminded me that I have a project to submit to the Akademiya today. My issue is that I cannot recall whether I do have a project to submit,” you explain, crossing your arms over your chest while tapping your foot on the ground impatiently. 

Al Haitham strokes his chin, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to recall any conversations he had with you regarding your upcoming deadlines with the Akademiya. Al Haitham nods wordlessly. You deflate and collapse to your knees, lying on the ground while sulking. 

“Eh? What happened to Windblume? They look heartbroken and defeated,” Venti says, strutting into the dining room while smoothing over the wrinkles on his shirt. “Was breakfast with blockhead disappointing?” Venti jokes, propping his hands on his hips.

You sigh and shake your head. You can’t be disappointed about the project submission preventing you from attending the Opera Epiclese with Neuvillette. Your project determines the fate of your future with the Akademiya, and you certainly cannot push the deadline back. Plus, you can’t be upset with Zhongli for reminding you of something so important. 

Venti extends his hands toward you; you grab his hands and stand up. You waddle over to the table and plop down between Zhongli and Neuvillette while sulking over missing the opportunity to witness a trial in person. 

You turn to Neuvillette, visibly disappointed, “Thank you for the invite, Neuvillette. I truly appreciate it, but I must decline your invitation due to pressing deadlines.”

Neuvillette’s gaze softens, reaching for your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You do not need to apologize, darling. There’s always a next time,” he smiles at you, “If you’d like, perhaps I can make some dinner reservations just for you and me.”

A hand slams down on the table, startling everyone in the room. If the others aren’t awake, they certainly are now. You look over where the commotion is from, only to see Childe huffing and puffing with a pout. Oh, Archons, you forgot Childe is still in the same room. 

“Snookums! How can you forget about me?” Childe whines.

You laugh nervously and rub the back of your neck with your unoccupied hand. You give Neuvillette and Zhongli a sympathetic look before getting ready to leave your seat to comfort Childe. Before you can stand up, Zhongli grabs your other hand and gently pushes you down, shaking his head.

“No need to console him, dearest,” Zhongli says, shooting a pointed look in Childe’s direction.

Childe puckers his lips and groans, turning around and stomping away. You sigh for the umpteenth time, resting your head on the table. Zhongli and Neuvillette both squeeze your hand to comfort you.

Since that day, things have been getting worse between the two men when you’re in the same room as the duo. Whenever you try to make time with Neuvillette, Zhongli would take that chance to tag along. Now, you’re not against Zhongli tagging along with you, but you’re sort of worried about his safety because of the look Neuvillette would throw in Zhongli’s direction. You’re not sure if the men aren’t aware that you can sense the tension between them, but if they do, they don’t seem to care about it. A week (or has it been two weeks?) passes by, and you’re eating dinner with the men in the dining room.

Usually, there isn’t assigned seating at the dining table since you want to be able to sit next to every person in the abode without leaving a single person out. But for some reason, not long after the men from Fontaine moved into the abode, Zhongli and Neuvillette decided that the empty seats beside you (anywhere you sit at the dining table, pretty much) were theirs to claim.

“But Onikabuto booboo bear! I want you to sit next to me this time!” Itto whines, laying the top half of his body on the table while giving you puppy dog eyes, his bottom lips jutting out before fake crying.

Neuvillette raises his eyebrows at Itto beside you, stroking his chin. “Onikabuto booboo bear? Is that supposed to be a nickname for [Y/N]?” Neuvillette murmurs.

Itto stops his act and looks at the Iudex with excitement, nodding rapidly. Itto quickly removes himself from the table before running over to your side of the table (which took a while because the table is quite long). Once he arrives at your side of the table where you, Zhongli, and Neuvillette are sitting, Itto pulls out an empty seat beside Neuvillette and plops down with a heavy sigh.

“In case you haven’t been, uh, informed about how things work around here…” Itto trails off, scratching his head as he tries to find the right words to say, “We,” he gestures to the men in the dining room, “have pet names for our sweet Onikabuto booboo bear.”

Itto places both hands on his hips; a smug smile graces his face. You snicker and shake your head. Zhongli wraps his arms around your waist and plants a kiss on your cheek, ignoring the looks Neuvillette and Childe are giving him. 

“Oh? Please do tell me more about this, Itto. I have been calling [Y/N] “darling,” are we supposed to have a unique nickname for them?” Neuvillette asks, tilting his head while looking at Itto with pure curiosity.

Itto blinks at the Iudex with wide eyes, “Uh…” he trails off, scratching the back of his head before looking over in your and Zhongli’s direction. “Not really. I guess it depends on preferences! I call them Onikabuto booboo bear because, well, I love Onikabutos almost as much as I love [Y/N]! As for the booboo bear part, I wanted it to be unique for them and only for them. Heh, I bet other people on Teyvat wouldn’t be able to come up with someone as interesting and unique as the nickname I give to my Onikabuto booboo bear!” 

You can’t help but melt at Itto’s response. You know that Itto loves his Onikabutos, and hearing his explanation of the nickname he gave you makes you feel so warm and soft inside. You pull away from Zhongli’s grasp, get up from your seat, and walk over to Itto. You wrap your arms around Itto’s shoulders and rest your left cheek on his head, stroking his hair.

“You’re too sweet, Itto. You’re going to make me cry,” you coo, reaching down to pinch his cheek.

Itto’s face turns bright red as he mumbles incoherent words. Noticing the look that Zhongli and Neuvillette shoot in his direction, an idea pops into his head. Itto wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles his face into your chest, making sure not to accidentally poke you with his horns.

Kaveh huffs, propping his head on his elbow. “Hey, Abyss Mage, how come you give them more attention than the rest of us?”

“They love me more, that’s why!” Itto shouts, sticking his tongue out at the miffed architect. Neuvillette lifts his hand to say something, but Itto quickly stands up and lifts you from the ground. “Ha! They’re mine now, losers!” 

“Wha— Itto!” You screech when Itto takes off with you in his arms.

How Itto runs away with you in his arms reminds you of a mother cat carrying her kitten, but in this case, it’s Itto carrying you. The men stand up, shouting at Itto and groaning as they watch the Oni sprint out of the dining room with you while laughing manically. 

Baizhu chuckles, rubbing his temples as he watches the other men leave their seats to chase after you and Itto while shouting profanities. “I’ll be getting the first aid kit, just in case something happens,” Baizhu says, getting up from his seat to go to the infirmary area of the abode. 

You should’ve known that Itto is a magnet for trouble, but while he’s running up the stairs with you in his arms, his feet slip, sending you two tumbling down the stairs. While Neuvillette’s tending to your injuries with Baizhu, Zhongli scolds the pouting Oni.

Neuvillette caresses your face in his hands, “Are you alright? You took a hard tumble down the stairs, and I’m worried about the possibility of you sustaining some injuries.”

“I mean, my arm does hurt, but—”

“Do you guys hear that?” Thoma asks.

Everyone in the room pauses, listening closely. There’s a soft pitter-patter sound coming from the roof. The sound isn’t loud, but it’s noticeable if you sit in a quiet room and listen closely. You continue to rub the arm you landed on, trying to decipher what’s making the pitter-patter noise.

“Is it raining?” Tighnari strokes his chin, heading towards the nearest window, while Aether runs toward the window. 

Scaramouche raises his eyebrows at Tighnari, crossing his arms over his chest. “Since when can it rain in the abode? Maybe you’re hearing things that aren’t correlated with the weather.”

Tighnari ignores Scaramouche’s comment and stands beside Aether in front of the window. Aether peeks from between the curtains before turning to everyone else in the room with wide eyes.

“It can rain in the abode?” Aether asks.

You furrow your eyebrows and get up from your spot, clutching your throbbing arm to your chest. Zhongli places a gentle hand on your shoulder, accompanying you to the window. 

Ayato hums, tapping his chin while watching the raindrops pelt the window. “I never knew that the abode can have such weather. It seems like the rain is getting heavy.”

“Now that I think about it, I believe that it has been a bit gloomier these past few weeks,” you murmur, staring at the dark gray skies from the comfort of the estate with the men who care about you.

The men look at Zhongli before looking over at Neuvillette, who ignores the others' burning holes in his head as he drinks his water elegantly. Zhongli lightly taps your shoulder to grab your attention. You look at Zhongli quizzically while he examines your injured arm with discontentment. 

A small smile appears on Zhongli’s face as he caresses your cheek with one hand. “Let’s get your injury checked. I’m sure Doctor Baizhu has yet to complete the examination.”

Lightning crackling across the sky and thunder filling the air startles everyone in the abode. The heavy rain seems to have gotten worse, and it doesn’t seem like it’ll get better any time soon. Aether clears his throat and gets between you and Zhongli with a polite yet awkward smile. “I’ll take [Y/N] to see Doctor Baizhu, Mister Zhongli.”

Before Zhongli can respond, Aether quickly whisks you away while avoiding the stares from Zhongli and Neuvillette. Baizhu and Aether rush you to another room while the men remain in the same spot, not moving a limb.

Dottore snorts, shaking his head, “Who knew these two men are childish.”

Neuvillette and Zhongli glare at Dottore. A tree branch knocks against the living room window as the rain pelts the roof and window. 

Note: Finally posted something after so long! 😭 The fanfic is most likely awful, but I kind of want to make a part two for it, but I'm not entirely sure if I should. Man, since this is posted, now I have to plan what else to post... aside from the HSR fanfics. I think I'll post a fanfic for HSR instead of Genshin this upcoming week, but I'm not entirely sure. I might change my mind, but who knows. Anywho! To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

I didn't initially plan on have a taglist for this fic, but since someone requested to be tagged in this fic, I will tag them! Taglist for this fic: @rubyninja1

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[khywren]

it's time for some more astarion analysis~

making this a separate post in case people wanted to reblog just the gifs on their own and don't care about the extra fluff. i'm certain this scene has been analyzed to the hells and back by this point, but when i was making this set something really stuck out to me and i wanted to throw my two cents in anyway.

this is the tail end of the mirror scene from act 1, where you catch astarion looking in the mirror and lamenting about not being able to see his reflection or knowing what he looks like anymore. and while that alone is sad enough, it gets SO MUCH WORSE.

if you express genuine interest in his predicament (i.e. asking him if he misses his reflection and what color his eyes were before he was turned), you get to see the mask slip. it's one of the first times in the game that he's not hiding behind his quick wit and silver tongue.

if you tell him you'll be his mirror, you can see the change in his demeanor immediately. his face softens, the cadence of his voice changes; you can literally hear the vulnerability in every word he says. huge props to neil and the rest of larian for making the distinction between these dialogue options, of course. it's the little details that really make moments like these shine.

but there was something else i noticed in the footage i recorded as well that i hadn't picked up on any of my other playthroughs. i've spent a lot of time staring at this man's face, especially while capturing idle animations for gifs and wallpapers, and most of the time it's what you'd expect, with minimal face movement, expressions changing, etc. most companions i record seem to behave the same way, with similar expressions/blinking/eye movement.

but just look at astarion's face here. this feels deliberately unique. he is SO anxious, so worried how you'll perceive him. the rapid blinking, the nervous darting of his eyes… it genuinely breaks my heart.

(tumblr will only let me upload one video per post, but just look at any other idle footage of him and you'll see the difference)

and the second you tell him what he thinks he wants to hear? that he's very attractive? he slips right back into his suave, flirtatious persona, and even praises you for complimenting his looks. even if you eventually ask him if all he wants is shallow praise, he still deflects and isn't completely honest with you.

note that if you choose to take the less compassionate route and simply tell them that he has a "very good face," he will still prompt you to tell him what you see when you look at him, and the delivery of the line is subtly but noticeably different and more guarded. similarly, if you poke a little too much fun at him by calling him old and draw too much attention to his mole, he gets very flustered and ends the conversation immediately. understandable, since he's relied on his appearance for so long, and hearing (even jokingly) that even that might not be something he can use anymore must be at least a little terrifying for him.

so naturally, you might think that by being truthful with him would perhaps net you a better result -- after all, you're telling him what he asked for, what you really see, that you see him as more than just someone to lust after -- but it doesn't. he actually seems a little upset if you choose those dialogue options. in that moment, he wants to know that you find him attractive, because he thinks that's all he's good for. because if you find him attractive, there's a chance that he could seduce you and use you for protection against cazador. i do think he also genuinely wants to know that there's so much more to him than just a pretty face, since that's a big theme of his entire story/romance arc, but that's not at the top of his priority list this early in the game. he's relying purely on instinct. he knows how to respond to people telling him he's attractive. accepting genuine compliments about the person beneath the mask? that's probably not something he's had much (if any) experience with in close to two centuries. he didn't have the luxury of being able to let anyone see who he really was.

all that to say that this interaction is really heartbreaking. he wants to be seen, wants to be understood and possibly loved, but at the same time he still thinks he needs to put on a front to ensure he can keep himself safe. watching him slowly start to unlearn those habits during the course of the game has been one of my favorite things about bg3 and a huge part of what's really endeared astarion to me as a character.

[generalsmemories]

Admiral, the general is touch-deprived.

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: "Please do one if you haven’t where Jing Yuan is severely down bad for reader and makes it known to everyone and they are just done with him"

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, make-out scene, humor, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: where did almost 100 of you come- bless this ask for making me write needy jing yuan i love you. not beta-read again anyway buckle up this is another one of unfiltered shame for my love for one mere general with a silly thunder lord that he nicknamed shin-kun in the jp dub because the official title was way too long for this old man.

this was written in a google doc on the phone since I'm on vacation so I apologize if the formatting is messier than the first post 🫡

There's tension in the air.

"... As for Stargazer Navidia, there seems to be another onslaught of mara-struck cloud knights making their way within the area in the next few days. I'll appoint Lieutenant Yanqing to lead a few troops there by the next hour, but be sure to send a messenger cycrane if the situation gets too out of hand or you need to divide the troops up to cover more ground."

You hear a loud "Yes!" as you flip over to the next page, quickly scanning through the documents contents, purposefully ignoring the tension in the air, muttering the details lowly to yourself with a furrowed eyebrow.

It's the sort of tension you wish everyone just ignored, even though it's more difficult than it sounds.

Perhaps being fed up with your avoidance of ignoring the elephant in the room, one of the captains of the Knights loudly cough into the air before meekly addressing you, "Admiral [Name]?"

"Yes?" you look up with a smile, cocking your head to the side. A small gesture to ensure the captain that they have your full attention which makes the knight before you quickly glance to the side and away from you, although that didn't help the pair of eyes boring a hole into the side of his head, "The general…" he starts, coughing once again while glancing back and forth at you and the weapons displayed at the seat of Divine Foresight, "... Would very much like your attention, it seems."

As if on cue, the arms that were wrapped around your waist squeeze a bit tighter than normal. The sudden pressure makes you let out a grunt of surprise while Qingzu lets out another exhausted sigh. Meanwhile you glance down to lock eyes with Jing Yuan, who very much is staring at you with a small pout evident on his lips, "Oh so my darling has finally acknowledged my existence?" he jokes with a grin, meanwhile you merely stare down back at him with a neutral expression before resting your left arm carrying the paperwork on his gray head. The general uses the opportunity to nuzzle his face into your waist, playfully biting into an exposed part of your skin from where his hand had wormed itself underneath your shirt, making you squirm away from him, to which he immediately grabs your back into his hold.

"If you haven't noticed dear, you're practically leeching onto me to the point I can't even stand at my usual side, that is to per say in front of the desk and not literally quite next to you and within your arms." You whisper to him gently. Flicking his forehead before whipping your head around to address the Cloud Knights before your husband can say anything in his defense.

You ignore the looks of disbelief on some of the soldiers' faces.

"I apologize for the awkwardness this position may cause, I can only hope for your understanding being that I've been away from the Luofu for a few months helping Marshal Fua with some matters at her fleet. I've only recently come back." you explain, gesturing Qingzu over to hand over the paperwork to her before waving your hand with a guilty smile, "You're all dismissed, please be safe out there."

"Lady Fu Xuan, how may I be of assis-"

"Are you two arguing or something?" Fu Xuan interrupts before you can even finish your sentence which leaves you staring wide eyed at her with your mouth agape, "Pardon? I'm not quite sure who you're referring to-"

"The general. I'm referring to general Jing Yuan, who else would I be referring to? He sits around the seat of Divine Foresight like a kicked puppy. Which makes it even harder to get any information in OR to him because he's not even mentally present! Can you fix him? Wonderful! Let's make haste to the seat."

You're not even allowed to finish your cup of tea or give an answer before the divination commissioner grabs you by the forearms and drags you out of the teahouse.

"Jing-" you haven't even taken one step into the seat of Divine Foresight before you're surrounded by the familiar scent of your husband. A gentle hand placed by your head while an arm is tightly wound around your waist. You can practically feel the smile of utter glee on Jing Yuan's lips as he buries his face into your hair.

"Darling, I thought you had the day off today?" he mutters into your hair, sounding a bit too happy to have you in his arms again to the point he's ignoring the death glares from Fu Xuan besides you, the divination commissioner just wanting to do her part of keeping the Luofu afloat.

"I was having my day off, before Lady Fu Xuan here dragged me out because someone didn't-" you struggle free to nag at him, but your husband merely smiles softly at you before lifting your chin to give you a quick kiss, "Now that you're here I feel more energized than ever, let me finish the paperwork for today and I'll join you, we can even play a round of starchess." he suggests.

You can practically sense Fu Xuan roll her eyes in disgust, able to hear her mutter about a "lovesick fool" before walking past the two of you, Jing Yuan merely grabbing your hand to lead you towards the seat.

So much for a day off.

You can't breathe.

"Jing-" another press of his lips onto yours as you find yourself pressed on the wall beside the door, "Yanqing-" you manage to breathe out when finally able to pull a tiny bit away from him. Pressing your hand over whatever surface of his face you can reach to try to shove him away, your other hand occupied with bracing itself against the wall.

Your husband ignores your literal hand on his face, somehow having more strength to still slant his lips across your own despite your efforts, the hand he has behind your head pushing you further against him while he shoves a leg between your own to keep you still, "Train-"

There's a rather loud set of knocks on your bedroom door followed by an exasperated sigh coming from behind it, which makes you freeze but Jing Yuan ignores it, sliding his tongue over your teeth while you resign yourself to slam your fist repeatedly on his back to get him to back off.

"General! I know you missed [Name] a lot during the months they were away from the Luofu, but you know that today is supposed to be a training day!" Yanqing shouts from behind the door, and you feel sorry over the realization he's aware of what's happening beyond it.

Feeling sorry enough for Yanqing whose probably already waited 15 minutes before knocking at the door, you muster whatever little strength you have left against your husband's addictive lips to grab his ponytail and yank him off and away from you.

Jing Yuan merely grunts in irritation, looking at you with a glare and swollen lips, but you ignore him. Opening the door before Jing Yuan can grab you again and giving Yanqing an apologetic look, "I tried-"

"It's better than last time, at least." He points out to which you merely sigh before opening the door wider, "I'll give you more pocket money this month, how's that for compensation?" You suggest, shoving your husband out the door before he do anything else, Yanqing smiling in triumph at your generosity.

"You're the best! Give me extra if I manage to land a few hits on the general?"

"5 more than usual and I'll give you an extra thousand." You settle, tapping Jing Yuan on the shoulder. Your husband turns around to face you with a hum, and you lean in to peck him on the cheek, gliding your lips over to his ear, "If you're a bit nicer to him today you'll also get a reward."

Needless to say, there were two very happy boys onboard the Luofu at the end of the day.

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

But Daddy I Love Him - Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: Oh hi! First of all, thanks for all the love on my last Jace fic. I'm sorry it's taken so long to post my next, I've had a crazy couple of weeks, but I wanted to make to get something out before this week's episode. I can't believe there's just 3 eps left of the season! I am hoping to get my Jace chapter fic out before then, so I have put most of my focus there. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!!

TS Prompt #8: But Daddy I Love Him

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister!Reader Word Count: 5.3k Synopsis: Jace and the reader fall in love, much to the displeasure of the reader's father.

Warnings: smut

Jacaerys Velaryon is beautiful.

It is tourney day in King's Landing, and your eyes are stuck to him as he makes his way out into the arena. Around you, there are scattered conversations whispered not low enough, about how the prince has matured in the last year, how handsome he has become.

He has not yet put his helmet on. This leaves his hair out, curls whipping around him in the gentle breeze. He flicks his hair back and there is a chorus of awes around you. You smirk at the reaction.

"The arrogance," your father, Jason Lannister, mutters from your side. You barely spare him a glance, not wanting to remove your eyes from Jacaerys.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"He's showing off," your father says, disgust in his voice.

"It is a tourney," you say, "Isn't that the point?" He doesn't respond, just continues to monitor the arena space.

Jacaerys mounts his horse and with bated breath, you watch as he accepts the lance from the Master of Revels. His opponent is a knight you haven't met yet, a Ser Estermont. He has done well in the tourney so far, though, which makes you nervous.

As both men prepare to make their joust, you lean forward in your seat, needing to see as closely as possible, what is about to happen.

Unlike the matches before, this one is over in one round. Jacaerys aims his lance to the perfect angle, and expertly knocks over the knight from Greenstone.

Applause erupts from the viewing gallery, and you nearly stand up and cheer, you are so relieved about his win. Jacaerys rides around the stands and stops in front of the gallery you sit in. He lifts off his helmet and smiles in a way that makes your heart race.

"Lady Y/N," he says, and you think you hear discontented sighs from behind you. "Might I request your favor, that I may excel through the rest of this tournament?" You smile and reach for your wreath of flowers. For one moment, your father grips your wrist, as if he means to keep you from going. But it does not last long. No matter what your father may think of Jacaerys, he is still the prince, and future heir to the the throne. To deny him would mean scandal.

As you approach the railing, you try to fight off the grin at seeing him. Jacaerys extends his lance so that you may drop the wreath onto it easily.

"Thank you, My Lady," he says, eyes locked onto yours.

"Good luck, My Prince."

He rides off into the arena, garnering more applause from the stands, as you return to your seat. There are jealous eyes upon you. Even your father looks angry. But you pay them no mind. There will be more rounds, and Jacaerys is sure to succeed time and again, which will have him request the favor of more ladies.

Smiling as you sit down, you think of the girls who will bestow upon him their own wreaths. You might even feel bad for them, for surely, they will assume that his attention means he might court them. But you know that his affections lie only with you.

To you, the prince was just Jace, and you had loved him since you were a girl. Three months ago, he had declared his love for you, too, and ever since, the two of you had been hiding your love, waiting for the right moment to proclaim your intentions.

"He did quite well," you say to your father, making another effort to talk up Jacaerys to him.

"Ser Estermont was an easy opponent," your father says, disinterest and dismissal reflected in his tone.

Once the tournament is over, Jace makes his way into the castle. Several lords and ladies stop him on his way, congratulating him on his victory. He thanks them in passing, his thoughts only on getting into the castle, where he knows he will find you.

There is a feast to be held after the tournament, and while most everyone heads that way, he dismisses himself, saying he wishes to change before then.

When he turns down the hallway towards his quarters, the area is empty. The guards that usually stand at his door were at the tourney and are now sitting down for the feast.

You come around the other end of the hallway, your red dress immediately drawing his eye. You glance around cautiously before breaking into a run, launching yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, laughing as his arms settle around you.

"Oh," you say on a breath, pulling back just enough to face him, "You have no idea how worried I was for you."

"Have you so little faith?" he asks with a smile.

"I believed in you," you say, hand to his chest, "But belief doesn't change the fear that comes at watching a lord twice your size sprint at you with a lance."

"I'm alright," he says, his hands running gently along your back. You smile at him and lean in to kiss his lips softly. Jace hums contentedly into the kiss, his arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulls you into a corner and deepens the kiss.

Together, you stay locked there for a long moment, relishing the quiet that is so hard to find. Jace's hands travel through your hair and over your body, greedy to get his fill of you while he has you.

"I should get to the feast," you say softly when you break for air, your forehead pressed to his.

"Stay with me," he says, entwining his hand with yours.

"My father will be looking for me," you say. Jace's smile drops. "I'm trying," you say, "To sway him to our favor."

"I know you are."

"Your victory today should help with that," you say, giving him a small smile. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you, My Lady," he says with a laugh. "I'll see you at the feast."

"Yes, My Prince."

By the next week, your father's attitude still hasn't changed. At the feast, you tried to talk about the prince, but he wouldn't hear anything of it. Jace had even come over to greet your family. Your father was diplomatic and only spoke to the prince for as long as he had to.

"I don't get why he won't give his blessing," you say, looking down at Jace. His head is in your lap, his eyes closed. He is so peaceful at this moment, you hate to bring this up again, but there seem to be fewer and fewer times for the two of you to be together. Even now, you are supposed to be with other ladies of the court, practicing your needlework. Instead, you snuck off to the Godswood to be with Jace amongst the blossoming trees.

"I'd be queen one day," you continue. "What more could he want for me?" Jace opens his eyes and looks at you with a frown.

"It's because of the rumors about me," he says lowly. You want to say he's wrong, but you wouldn't even believe yourself. The rumors of Jace's parentage had only grown in the last few years. It seemed that as he became older, and King Viserys grew sicker, the accusations only multiplied.

"I don't care about that, though," you say brushing your fingers through his hair.

"You should," he says, taking your hand in his own. "There are some who would see my brothers and I slain, rather than see us inherit our birthright."

"All the great houses swore allegiance to your mother," you say, squeezing his hand. "And you are her trueborn son. To do so would be--"

"Treason," he says, "But there are still those who would try it."

"My father wouldn't," you say. "As stubborn as he is, he is loyal to King Viserys, and by extension, your mother." Jace sits up, a serious expression on his face.

"Tensions are high amongst my family," he says, taking your hands in his. "In the entire kingdom, really. I am worried what may happen. Your father is smart, and that is why he must worry, too."

"You all fear something that may never come to pass," you say, "Are we to be separated in the name of what ifs?"

"We are to be separated until we can convince your father that I can keep you safe."

"And how do we do that?" you ask. Jace lays his head back on your lap.

"I don't know," he says.

The room is dark when you enter your father's quarters that night. He sent word to your lady's maid to see him immediately, but she couldn't find you until now, because you and Jace had been intwined in the Godswood all afternoon.

"Lady Clegane said she did not see you today," your father says right away, before you can even greet him. "Were you not to be under her tutelage this afternoon?"

"I don't need to study my needlepoint, Father," you say, stopping in front of him. "No man alive cares how well his wife can stitch."

"You were with the prince, weren't you?" he asks, standing. He towers over you, but you hold your head high, meeting his gaze.

"Why don't you like him?" you ask. He merely shakes his head.

"It is not a daughter's job to pick her husband," he says, "That duty lies with her father."

"And who would you have me marry instead? A lesser lord of the Westerlands? Someone directly under your control?"

"If that is what I demanded, yes," he says, bracing your arms. "I raised you to obey me, Y/N."

"No, you raised me to cage me," you say, tugging from his grip. "I would be Jacaery's queen! There isn't a more advantageous match out there for me. Yet you refuse to even hear us out, because it is not of your doing!" His face reddens, a telltale sign of his rage. You have never raised your voice to him before, and are now slightly scared of what he may do.

"I think it's time you return to Casterly Rock," he says lowly.

"What?" you ask, momentarily stunned.

"Your time in King's Landing is over," he says firmly. "You have become disobedient and careless."

"Father--"

"Do you think I am the only one who sees it, Y/N?" he asks, taking your hands in his desperately. His eyes are wide and pleading. "Do you think no one saw the two of you in the Godswood today? That no one can see the secret looks you exchange? That family is shameless, and I will have you take no part in it.

"I will not allow your reputation to be ruined by the prince's," he says. Tears begin to form at the finality of his words.

"When do I leave?" you ask, setting your jaw as you fight off the tears.

"I'll escort you the day after tomorrow, so you can make your goodbyes," he says. He can't meet your eyes.

"Very well."

Jace is speechless when you tell him. He found you sitting outside of his chambers the next night, tears streaming down your face. He invited you inside, a hurtle the two of you had yet to pass until then, and held you close while you told him your fate.

"We'll only have tonight," you say quietly.

"Maybe it's for the better."

"How can it be when it separates us?" you ask, looking up at him with watery eyes.

"Just for now," he says, brushing your hair back gingerly. "When things relax, we can try to convince him again."

"How long will that be?" you ask, "He'll have me married off as soon as possible, I know." Jace frowns down at you, his eyes searching for an answer in yours, that he knows he can't find.

"I won't stop fighting for you, Y/N," he says. "I promise."

"I won't either."

"We'll find a way," he says. You nod your head, a new wave of tears incoming, and relax into his chest. He holds you in his arms for a long time, his had tracing patterns along your back. The fire is nearly out in his hearth, and the room grows dark quickly.

"When did he say he wanted you back?"

"Fuck what he said," you say, looking at him intently. "I am not leaving your side tonight." With a hand to his cheek, you bring your lips together. The kiss is slow, a bit salty with the tears streaming down your face, but it is all he has ever wanted. He tries not to think about the fact that this might very well be the last time he ever gets to taste your lips, ever gets to hold you.

But it seems that your thoughts go there as well. Quickly, the kiss turns passionate. Your teeth scrape against his lip, like you can take him with you to Casterly Rock. His hands move down your body, to places he hasn't dared to explore yet. As one, the two of you move, so that he has you pinned to the couch, his body atop yours in a way he's only dreamed about before. You moan into his kiss as his body rocks into yours.

“Y/N,” he says breathlessly, forcing himself to break away from your kiss. Your lips are red, swollen from his touch. Your hair is spread out around you in a cascade of curls. It is torture to see you like this and not bring his body clashing into yours again.

“What?” you ask, your hand trailing down his chest, as if you need to touch him however you can.

“We should stop.”

“Why?”

“If anyone ever found out, you would be disgraced. Your father already doesn’t like me, I don’t want to give him any other reason to—“

“I’ll tell you something right now,” you say, “My good name is mine alone to disgrace. Being here with you now, doesn’t change a single thing about my honor.”

"Are you sure?"

"I need you, Jace," you whisper. You are barely able to finish the words before his mouth meets yours again, fiercer than before. He doesn't stay there too long. He needs to taste you everywhere, savor every moment he's got left with you.

His lips move across your face and down your neck. He loves the sounds you make when he bites down softly, the way your back arches your body into his. He sits the two of you up for just a moment, so that he can pull at the laces along your back.

When the top of your dress falls, he stares at your bare chest for a long moment. You smile at him, your skin flushed.

"You are so beautiful," he says. You grab hold of his face, kissing him again as you fall back onto the couch. Jace palms your breast, kneading gently as you whimper into his mouth. You pull at his clothes, too, until you rip his shirt off over his head.

Skin to skin now, Jace breaks from your lips to kiss down your chest. He lingers for a moment on your breasts, but his need to take you is growing too urgent. He moves down lower, tugging your dress down with him until you are fully exposed to him.

"Y/N," he says on a sigh, marveling at the sight of you.

"I love you."

"I love you," he says, dropping his lips to the folds at your center. The moan you let out is nearly enough to send him over, but he won't deny himself the opportunity to feel what it's like to be inside of you. He focuses on your pleasure, kissing the sensitive bud at the apex of your thigh, watching your face with rapt attention, seeing what action makes you cry out, which makes you thrust into him.

When you cry out his name, his watches proudly as your body clenches, waves of pleasure roll through you. Jace keeps up his actions for a few moments longer, tasting and savoring the moment as you come down.

When he sits up, he watches the rise and fall of your chest, the satisfied smile on your face. He kisses your lips passionately, treasuring the little sounds of happiness you make as he does.

He drops his trousers next, rubbing his cock against your slick folds. He presses into you slowly, barely able to keep his control, his need is so great. You gasp as you take him in, grabbing hold of his shoulders. He begins to rock into you, his movements gentle. As your sounds become more frequent, he picks up his pace, until the only sound he can hear is your cries of pleasure, and the collision of your two bodies.

He comes soon after that, his body collapsing on top of yours. For a long while, the two of you lay there, sweaty and happy, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

"Jace," you say on a breath, breaking the silence first.

"Yes, my love?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

"This cannot be the last time," you say, cupping his cheek.

"It won't be. We'll find a way, I swear."

It's early morning when you return to your chambers. Your father collects you an hour later, and although the look he gives you suggests that he knows where you were, thankfully, he doesn't say anything.

The journey to Casterly Rock is long, taking nearly three weeks, and the entire time, your thoughts are on Jace. You bring him up a few times with your father, but after the most recent, he stops looking at you, stops speaking altogether, and rides astride his horse, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

When the news of King Viserys's death breaks, you hear it from your lady's maid. You shoo her away when she tries to finish braiding your hair. You know you should feel sad - Viserys was a great king, and had been sick for a long time. The last time you saw him, he looked like a walking corpse, and you had to avert your gaze.

But his passing means that Rhaenyra will be crowned queen. She will return from Dragonstone, where she fled just a week after you left King's Landing, and Jace with her.

You run from your chambers and burst into your parents' quarters, and find them talking in hushed, urgent tones. Your mother turns at your arrival and the look on her face scares you. There is panic in her gaze, mixed with a sadness that seems to grow when she sees you.

"Y/N," she says softly.

"I just heard the news."

"Yes."

"I expect we'll be leaving for King's Landing soon?" you ask, looking to your father. "For Princess Rhaenyra's coronation?"

"My dear," your mother says, a hand out to call you to her side. "Maybe you should sit down."

"What is it?" you ask as she sits you down in front of their empty hearth.

"Rhaenyra is not going to be queen," your father says.

"What do you mean?"

"Aegon has been crowned."

"He usurped the throne?" you ask in shock. "Are we gathering our bannerman? Should we--"

"Y/N," your father says with a sigh, taking your hands as he sits across from you. "We won't be calling our bannerman. We are supporting King Aegon."

"You swore allegiance to Rhaenyra," you say icily, looking between your parents' faces.

"I can't explain it all to you, daughter. There is much you don't understand."

"Uncle Tyland?" you ask quietly. Certainly, your level-headed uncle would see reason, when your father could not.

"He sits upon Aegon's small council," your father says.

"How long has this been planned?" you ask, moving away from your parents. The room suddenly feels too suffocating. Watching them, waiting for their response, you catch a quick look between your parents.

"How long have you known about this, Father?" you ask, stepping closer to look him in the eye.

"Rhaenyra was never going to be queen," he says lowly. "Regardless of the parentage of her sons. Although, that certainly didn't help her cause." You pull back from him, a look of disgust on your face. "And Aegon will make a good king."

"What will happen to Rhaenyra? To her sons?" you ask, the second question coming out broken. He doesn't answer. You look to your mother, hoping for some words of support from her, but she shares the same sad look on her own face.

"You've known this for so long . . ." you say, thoughts racing, "That's why you wouldn't approve an engagement between Prince Jacaerys and I."

"Yes," he says, "And I won't feel sorry for it. He'll be killed, no doubt. I don't want the same fate for you."

"But Daddy," you cry, calling him by a name you haven't in years, feeling as helpless as if you were still that child, "I love him!"

"It's already done, Y/N," he says, pain in his eyes. You let out a strangled sound before sliding down the wall.

"I'm having his baby," you say through a sob.

"What?" your mother asks urgently, crouching at your side. "What do you mean?" But no words come to you. The tears are falling too fast, any words choked by hiccupping.

Eventually, they bring you to your room. They both asked more questions about the baby, but you don't answer them, you can't. You don't trust them.

Your father had known this fate would befall Rhaenyra, would befall her sons. He knew you loved Jace, and he still let it all happen.

The next morning, your mother comes into your room. Her eyes are bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them. She brings you a cup of tea and kisses your forehead, before she says anything.

"Tell me about the baby," she says. "Are you certain?"

"No," you admit, bringing your knees to your chest. "But I haven't had my blood in a few weeks." Your mother nods and looks down sadly at her own drink.

"You'll need to drink moon tea," your mother says softly.

"I won't."

"Then you'll need to get married immediately, and claim the child as your new husband's."

"I won't do that either."

"Y/N," she begins with a sigh.

"You've already slammed the door on my whole world, I won't let you take this one last piece of him I have. If I am to have his child, I will keep it and I won't claim it as anyone else's."

"You'll be ruined," she says. "And if Aegon finds out that your child is Jacaerys's--"

"He won't. Nobody needs to know."

"Your father won't like this," she says gently. "You do not wish to make him angry."

"He's been angry. I've made my decision."

The next week, your cycle arrives, and you cry all day long.

"Sending another raven?" Rhaenyra asks, stepping out onto the cool balcony beside Jace. He gives her a tight lipped smile and nods. "Have you heard back from her?"

"Here and there," he says. He has been sending ravens to you for the past two weeks.

"I'm sorry your feelings fell into the middle of this mess."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Mother," he says seriously. She gives him a sad smile, a palm to his cheek.

"Baela tells me you have a plan to get her out," she says. Jace looks at her with wide eyes. He hadn't technically asked her permission, and what he was doing would be dangerous for their position.

"I know I should have told you," he starts.

"Yes, you should have. I would like to help," she says. She laughs at the bewildered look on Jace's face. "Do you think I would let you suffer here, knowing she's there, probably suffering too? Tell me your plan, Jace."

So he does. He gives her the same instructions he just sent to you. She gives him her support, while offering a few suggestions. She leaves him on the balcony after, giving him space to think over his plan, and to try and quell the hope building up inside of him.

All he is waiting for is one word from you, and he will enact this plan.

A day later, a raven knocks at his window, waking him from sleep. He leaps up immediately to grab its message, and finds just one word, written in your handwriting.

Yes.

On the morning of your escape, you awake with a smile on your face. It has been weeks since you felt anything at all. Your lady's maid enters into the room to ready you for the day, and you greet her, "Good morning."

"Good morning, My Lady," she says, looking at you in bewilderment. You're not sure you've spoken to her since you arrived at Casterly Rock. "I trust you slept well, then?"

"The best yet," you say.

As she moves about the room, getting your clothing together, you make sure to pick out the dullest dress in your wardrobe. When she sits you down to do your hair, you have her tuck your tendrils into a woven braid. Everything for indiscretion, or this plan will not work out.

When you walk into the breakfast room, your parents are gathered around a table. You give them a kind smile, playing the part of the dutiful daughter, knowing that your plans for escape were all laid.

"Good morning," your mother says, an air of suspicion in her voice.

"Morning," you say, sitting down next to her. "Good morning, Father."

"You haven't forgotten about your commitment today, I hope?" your father asks.

"No, I remember I am meeting with Lord Lannys today," you say innocently. He studies you for a moment like he doesn't believe you, but then his expression changes, or he forces it to. He forces himself to believe that you have finally pulled out of your darkness.

"Perhaps I'll accompany you down there," he says, "It's been a while since I have checked in on Lannisport."

"No," you say quickly. "You said you'd let me go with just a few guards."

"So I did."

"I have so little freedom," you say, "Am I to be chaperoned every day of my life?" The look on your father's face is one of remembrance, that this is the behavior he expects from his daughter.

"You will stay close to your guards," he says firmly.

"Of course."

"Our world is not as safe as it once was."

"I know."

"Very well."

You thank him and your mother, and when you bid them farewell, it is bittersweet. You try to see them as the loving parents you had when you were younger, but now you only see the causes of your heartbreak, and know that you're making the right call.

"When will she be here?" Joffrey asks impatiently, for the third time.

"Soon, I think," Jace answers.

"Why has it taken so long?"

"You don't have to wait with me, Joff," he says with a look to the younger boy. "It takes a long time to get here from the Westerlands."

In his plan, Jace had wanted to assure that your route would not be easily followable. The plan was for you to go to Lannisport and get aboard a ship that would take you to Seaguard. From there, you would travel by horse to Gulltown, where the Arryns would assure you passage to Dragonstone.

Yesterday, he got word that you arrived to Gulltown safely. If all went well, you would be in Dragonstone anytime now.

But the waiting was agony. Many times, Jace thought about saddling Vermax and flying out to you, just to get one glimpse of you. He knew himself, though, and knew that if he saw you, even from the air, he wouldn't want to let you out of his sights. He needed to wait patiently.

He was as bad as Joffrey, though.

When he finally sees your ship on the horizon, his heart starts beating faster. He rushes from his balcony and makes his way through the castle. Joffrey tries to keep up, but Jace loses him somewhere along the steps leading down to the shore.

Jace gets to the pier just as the small boat does. He doesn't think he is breathing as you step off the boat. Your eyes are searching for his and when they find him, a smile breaks across your face. You run towards him and he does the same, meeting you in the middle of the pier.

The second you are in his arms, you break down into tears. You cling to every part of him, your hands needing to touch him, needing to know that he is well. He realizes he is doing the same, his hand tangled in your hair, the other on your back.

"Oh, it's so good to see you," you say, pulling back just enough to look him over. Before Jace can say anything, you kiss him quickly, but fiercely.

"I'm so glad you're here," he says, hugging you again. You laugh, squeezing him just as tight.

"You're probably exhausted," he says, taking your hand and leading you back towards the castle. "You've had a long journey."

"Just a month," you say with a shrug, making him laugh.

"Well, you deserve your rest. I'll bring you right to my room," he says, "But there's one thing you'll have to do first."

"What's that?" you ask, furrowing your brow.

"Speak to my mother."

Dragonstone castle is not that much different from King's Landing, but it's unfamiliar, and unwelcoming. At least, the men sitting around Rhaenyra are. As you stand before them, some of your courage starts to slip.

"I am relieved to see you here safely, Lady Y/N," Rhaenyra says with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. She stands and moves closer to you.

"I am sorry for having to do this, but seeing as your house has pledged their support to my brother, I have to ask where you allegiance lies," she says, stopping in front of you.

"With you, of course," you say immediately.

"You must know the risks, Y/N," she says, "You could very well be killed for supporting my claim and Jace's." For a moment, you glance back at your prince, and gather strength from his encouraging look.

"I'd burn my whole life down before I listen to another second of my father's scheming, and well before I bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen," you say.

"I love your son very much, I would never do anything to jeopardize his future, or yours, My Queen." Rhaenyra gives you a smile that is so much like her sons. She nods her head.

"Thank you, Y/N. Welcome to Dragonstone."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you say. Before you can even turn around, Jace's hand is in yours. He is looking down at you with a smile.

"Come on," he says, pulling on your hand gently. He leads you through the castle, up to his chambers, which will now be your own, he explains.

Once the doors close behind you, he is upon you, wrapping you in his arms as he kisses you. You smile into the kiss, realizing that this is not a dream, or just a passing moment. You'll get to stay in his arms for the rest of your lives.

"I love you," you say when you break away. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

"You're my lady, Y/N," he says, "And very soon I'll make you my princess. Of course I sent for you. I love you."

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body into his again as your lips connect again.

"You must be exhausted," he says breathlessly. "You'll want to sleep."

"All I want is right here."