#arguing further is just a waste of both of our times

[natsmagi]

sorry, i really don’t get you because you say you draw tsumugi with the body you do because she ‘seems like the type of girl who would have a good body (weird that you call that kind of ‘no fat but on the boobs sex doll body’ good but okay?) but covers it up’ and then don’t draw her covered up.

like you draw her in tiny skirts with her ass hanging out and shit constantly, in every one of your drawings is her body emphasised and on show and i just want to know what your fucking deal is? not only does it feel really mischaracterising for tsumugi, but it’s just really weird and gross. also you’ve literally never drawn a single fat character, all your characters are stick thin with different boob and hip sizes.

are we seriously doing this again. its ok to not like my art. its ok to not have it be to your tastes. its ok to disagree with my portrayals. it doesnt need to be much deeper than that

your rephrasing of my quotes is misleading though. ive re-emphasized the point more clearly before, but my points are based on societal standards and expectations, not my own personal preferences. big boobs small waist is the body type that gets ogled at the most, stereotypically speaking, so it makes it fun for her to have that body as her personality and the way she carries herself isnt whats commonly associated with it. with my depictions i try to take context into question. i dont just give the character a body or appearance that i like, i try to think how i can translate their character along with changing their figure (if at all). of course, i am not perfect, my stuff will not appeal to everyone and my takes might be disagreeable, and thats ok.

as for my tsumugi depiction; i dont know what you want me to say. tsumugi wears a button-up shirt with pants and a belt in canon. in my femstars version i simply change the pants into a pencil skirt. the belt is synched around the waist. its gonna make her waist look smaller than it is, as the belt is highlighting that area and creating contrast. this is a common way to dress and i honestly dont think i draw her in revealing clothes too often? like yea it happens. duh. and ive drawn some horny and suggestive art with her to add. but i do not think i go out of my way to flaunt her body or have her wear as little as humanly possible (which i dont even think would be an issue. an artist having fun is not the end of the world). i mainly do it when its, again, a suggestive drawing, or when its been for a joke. its not really meant to be anything deep sure, maybe she has her cleavage out every once in a while, but thats just. Her having boobs. i give natsume revealing clothes just as, if not more often than i do tsumugi, but people dont seem to care/notice as shes rather curveless. and idol clothes are separate from personal clothes that theyd casually wear because its what they enjoy, and its the idol clothes that tend to have that more "attractive" tinge to them her body isnt the focal point of my art very often either?? like if ur just staring at her boobs in every single one of my drawings atp thats on u

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Knight

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Gwayne Hightower Couple - Gwayne X Reader Reader - Visenya Hightower (Daughter of Rhaenyra and Wife of Gwayne) Rating - 15 Word Count - 1715

Requested -

Hello Miss Witch, me again! Can I request again in your “Boys Yet To Have Books” please? I really love the Oscar Tully I requested, how you write it is simply divine! But now I’d like to request a Gwayne Hightower story. Wherein he is married to Rhaenyra’s sister named “Visenya” (many years after Alicent’s marriage to Viserys) to have a stronger bond between Hightower and Targaryen. But the thing is that they both resided in Old Town. They both had their first child, a girl the same age as Daeron and now expecting another one. No spice please, just Gwayne being the best husband and father ever, being really clingy and touchy, showering sweet words and kisses to his wife exactly like a simp haha. I am a million times grateful if you do this request, thank you! <33

Gwayne rides into the stables, pulling up and dismounting his horse bag slung over his shoulder. He tries to hurry his way inside fast and easy but finds the Maester pestering him as he walks

"Ser, Ser, A raven from your sister," The short man bobbles about following Gawyne around the yard,

Gwayne lets out a sigh, “What does my sister want?”

"She requests for you to take coach and begin the road to king's landing, Ser."

Gwayne grumbles, rubbing his forehead. “By the gods do I need to spell it out for her… no. I am not going to Kings Landing.”

"But Ser-" He began,

Gwayne held up his hand, stopping the man there. “What part of “no” are you unable to comprehend? I will not be going to that viper’s nest, I do not care for how much my sister begs and nags, nothing she can say will change my mind.” Gawyne sighed once more, "I will not risk such a movement, I will not do it. Visenya could begin her labours any day I will not risk taking her on the road in her condition much less to Kings Landing just to please my sister. Visenya will remain here, in our bed-chamber, with her maids and maesters while we wait for the baby. and I will be here. By her side."

The Maester began to argue more but at this,

“Do. Not. Push. Me.” Gwayne turned to face him, a growl upon his lips.

the Maester froze like a deer in the headlights at this, his legs going still and his lip quivering slightly as he nodded his head. The maester grumbled but relented, knowing he was not going to get any further than that, “Very well, ser, I shall inform your sister… again.”

Gwayne let out a scoff, running a hand through his hair in a bout of frustration. “I would not waste your birds on my sister… I’m certain she has a mind to flay you alive if you say “no” once more.” Gwayne heads inside the Hightower, heading up the many stairs to his chambers, already he felt a giddy smile as he opened the door.

The balcony doors open letting a soft breeze blow in from the sunset sea, the sweet canopy bed shaded by wooden screens. And there she lay Visenya his beloved wife. Long hair messy from her rest, wearing only her long white nightgown and her socks, her baby bump ripe and ready to pop any day. She hums softly as she slowly sews little baby clothes.

Gwayne stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her with a soft smile. He thanked the gods she was his, and questioned whatever luck he had been given for the brief time just to call her his own. He could have watched her forever, until Oldtown and the Hightower sank into the sea. But he moved further into the room, closing the doors behind him. He sets his bag down beside the bed, walking over and sitting on the edge. He looks at her sewing before his eyes move up to her face, his smile only growing. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, then her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, then her jaw, then her collar, then her chest, then her bump, where he finally stops. He reaches out, resting his hand on her belly, rubbing it softly with a gentle smile. “Are you working on the clothes again, my love?”

she nodded "Mhm, I made our little knight some little socks to warm his tiny toes,"

Gwayne chuckled softly, grinning at the thought of their child and their tiny little toes ripe for kisses and tickles, “How shall our little night shall be to have such tiny socks, why I could fit the whole knight in my sock,”

“And poison the poor lad,” she joked,

“You are cruel to me my love,” he teased giving her another kiss, “You know not yet if it is a boy or girl, love…”

"No, we shall have to be surprised."

Gwayne smiled softly, taking her hand in one of his and intertwining their fingers. “Indeed, though regardless, I’m certain they will be a gorgeous and strong child. They have us as parents, after all…”

she nodded with a giggle in agreement,

“And I spent the day in the Old Town gardens and I gathered you enough Moonblooms for a whole batch of soap.” He cooed glancing to his bag, “As soon as your hungry let me know and I will make it myself for you,”

“Thank you darling,” she cooed, "What did the maester want, he came looking for you earlier"

Gwayne let out a sigh, he laid down resting his head on her bump in such a way he could still look at her face, “Ummm have I ever told you how beautiful you are,”

“Yes you have,” she smiled, “Maseter… wanted… what?” She reminds,

“You know just staggeringly beautiful,”

“Gwayne!” she complained, “Don’t just avoid the topic,” She warns, “You are causing me distress,” She teased rubbing her belly,

“More ravens from my sister, demanding my presence in Kings’ Landing… I once again refused, I will not take you on the road with you in your current state. It is not fair to you, nor the babe.”

"You know she will not stop her asking until she feels the babe in her arms"

He let out another sigh, “I do not care how many ravens she sends, I will continue to refuse her. I will not risk you or our baby for my sister’s whims.” he explained, “It is three months ride to kings landing, swiftly and you are in no condition to travel for that long, let along be on any swift movements. Our babe will be born by the time we arrive and I will not risk you and our baby’s health to have your labours in the back of a coach. No. You will be here. With all the citadel’s maesters to aid you, all your handmaidens. And I by your side. In your own bed, with your own views, Visenya,” he took her hand in his holding it to his chest,

"But don't you want to take your beautiful wife, swollen heavy with your babe to court to show off?" she teased

Gwayne chuckled, bringing the back of her hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it.

“While seeing you in court would be wonderful, you are more important then any lords, ladies or my sister. You are my wife, my love, my Visenya.”

He shifted once more so he was lying partially on top of her, his body mostly on her side, his head now against her torso. He wrapped his arms around her waist, He listened to the sound of her breathing, the steady beat of her heart, and most importantly the sound of the little pitter-patter of their child’s own delicate little heartbeat. Everything was perfect, here in this moment in his mind, often he whispered sweet cooes to her and peppered her with kisses telling her and their baby how much he adores them,

Suddenly the door to the chamber flies open

"Did I miss it!" Lianna yelled in panic, standing at the door in her green gown, fresh from her library session with her cousin Daeron,

Gwayne nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden shout from the doorway, not expecting his daughter’s sudden appearance. The surprise was soon replaced with a sigh and a chuckled at the girl’s question. “Miss what, Lianna?”

"My baby brother!" She bolted over jumping onto their bed with excitement

Gwayne chuckled, shaking his head, his hands going to her little arms to prevent her from accidentally moving the bed too hard, knowing Visenya needed to be on her back most of the time these days. “Lianna, you’ve asked this every day for two months, and it’s always the same answer. Your brother has not arrived yet.”

"Why not?"

Gwayne sighed, smiling at his impatient, and at times, irritatingly stubborn daughter. “Because these things take time, sweetling. Give it another month or two, you’ll have your baby brother to dote on and bother all the time.”

lianna nodded, and pulled a bundle of flowers from her back "For you mama," She offered the flowers to Visenya,

"Awww thank you my sweet girl," she cooed taking the flowers from her, setting them in a vase beside the bed with the flowers’ Lianna brought her yesterday, but keeping one out to rub on her belly to soothe the little baby within,

Gwayne scooted over, The sight made him smile. Lianna was so sweet, though a handful at times. “Those are beautiful Lianna, you did well with them,”

“Lianna, would you like to feel your sibling move? I can feel our little knight right now…”

Lianna immediately came to rest her hands on Visenya's belly "I feel him! I feel him!"

Gwayne chuckled softly, watching Lianna rest her hands on her mother’s belly, a smile upon her face. He reached out, gently resting his own hand over Visenya’s stomach, smiling at the feeling of their child moving around in there. He could practically feel Lianna’s excitement, and he smiled softly at their daughter’s enthusiasm for the little one.

Visenya chuckled, placing her own hand over her Gwaynes, both of them now resting on her stomach.

“See? He’s a little knight indeed. He has been very active lately, moving around in there quite a lot.”

“Umm, I think he is almost ready to join us,” He smiled,

“I think so too,” 

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲

Kenji Sato x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.8k (barely proof read </3)

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Wife and Pregnant!Reader, angst…like heavy angst, family issues (Kenji’s daddy issues, shocker), emotional breakdown, crying, Reader has a small accident (she’s in her third trimester), somewhat satisfying ending….

𝐀/𝐍: *grabs your shirt and looks at you dead in the eye* girl, if you knew how much I busted my ass for this fic—

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: While Kenji grapples with the pressure of becoming a father, he receives an unexpected invite from his own.

Kenji sat still on the couch with the latest images of the ultrasound staring back at him in his hands. His finger traced over the picture, lingering on the tiny form of the baby.

Despite the due date being a couple of months away, he still couldn’t fully grasp the reality of soon becoming a father. Each kick and shift he would feel from your growing stomach was a reminder of the new life that would soon be dependent on him.

He felt a series of emotions— anticipation, a hint of anxiety, but most of all, excitement. Kenji’s mind wandered to the future, imagining the day when he would hold his baby for the first time.

For a long time, he had always adopted the ‘cross the bridge when I get there’ mindset, never fully prepared for the far future. But the moment you told him you were pregnant, his fatherly instincts already took over his mind— it had been a messy journey for the both of you, adjusting to this new chapter in your marriage.

You, sensing his preoccupation, gave him a look; a signal he had come to recognise as a precursor to important news.

But, that was only the beginning. A boulder dropped in a pail of stagnant water, creating ripples that disrupted the quiet flow of your lives

“Don’t be mad,” you said cautiously. Kenji felt skeptical about what you were going to say— his eyes scanned your face, trying to gauge what was coming.

“What did you do?” he said slowly. Usually, when you would say this, it would be something minor, like misplacing his best baseball bat or rearranging his meticulously organised items. Anything that was easily fixable.

But what you said next felt like the rug had been pulled out from beneath him.

“I invited your dad over.”

He froze in his seat. For a moment, he didn’t say anything as he struggled to process your words.

His dad? Coming over?

Nothing could have prepared him for that. He hadn’t spoken to that man in years, and now, all of a sudden he wanted to come over. What was his motivation?

“Why did you invite him?” he asked, trying to conceal his frustration.

“He tried to call through Mina. I couldn’t ignore him.”

Kenji swallowed thickly, clenching his fist slightly “And when exactly is he coming?”

“Tonight.”

Kenji just pinched the bridge of his nose, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. There was no point wasting time arguing, especially when his father was due in a few hours. “Yeah, okay, fine. He can come over, I guess,”

“Are you mad?” You asked. His expression softened. He could never be mad at you. He knew this day would come eventually. He just didn’t expect it to be now, with a baby on the way. Maybe that was why his father wanted to come over.

“No, no. I’m not mad.” He cradled your face reassuringly. “Just a little annoyed, but I’ll be fine. He can come. I’ll greet him and then I’ll stay in our room until he leaves.”

Your face dropped in disappointment. “What?”

“Exactly as I said.” Kenji didn’t know what you were expecting from this. For him to reconcile with his father after years of silence? What a joke. “I’m not gonna sit with that guy for hours while he’s here.”

“That’s not how I imagined things would go.” Your face fell further, giving him a sullen look, hoping to coax him into changing his perspective.

“What did you expect me to do? Sit there for hours and make small talk?” Kenji scoffed. “Do you know how long it’s been since I last talked to him?”

He felt he was already being courteous by allowing his father inside. That was more than enough. He didn’t owe him anything else.

“He might help you with being a dad and give you some advice.”

Kenji almost laughed at that. Oh, the irony. His father was the last person to give him parenting advice. “No. I don’t need his advice. I can figure this out on my own. Don’t you understand?”

The rest of the day flew by, and the evening rolled in quicker than Kenji anticipated. Each hour that passed knotted the tension in his chest, making it harder to breathe properly.

Soon, there was an alert of a visitor outside the Ultrabase. Kenji let out a tired sigh, “I’ll…I’ll answer it.”

He rose from the bed and padded his way to the front door. His mind was a mess, and he didn’t know what to expect. He took a few deep breaths to calm his erratic heart before finally opening the door.

Kenji’s mood immediately soured when he finally made eye contact with his father. Seeing him for the first time in years sent an icy feeling through him.

“Dad…” he greeted, keeping his voice controlled.

“Kenji…it’s been a while, son.” Hayao said cautiously. Kenji towered over his father’s frame, noticing the crutches beside him. Despite the height difference, Hayao seemed smaller and more vulnerable with his old age

If the situation were different, Kenji would have only opened the door enough to fit his head out, blocking his father’s view of the inside. In fact, he might have not answered the door at all. He wouldn’t have allowed him access back into life. To keep that chasm between father and son.

But he knew that you were expecting him, so he opened the door wider and stood to the side to make room. “I suppose you should come in.”

Just as expected, you were standing beside him, waiting patiently to finally meet the unsolicited guest.

“Professor Sato.” You gave your warmest smile.

Hayao turned his attention to you as he stepped further into your house. This was the first time you saw each other face to face since he hadn’t attended the wedding. If only the situation didn’t feel so stiff, Kenji would’ve been thrilled for you to meet his dad.

He watched his father’s gaze shift to your growing belly as you rested your hands on it. Kenji’s protective instinct flared.

“Ah, hello dear. I must say, you are positively glowing.” Hayao complimented.

“I’m sorry for the short invite.”

“Oh no, it’s alright. I can tell I’ve come unannounced…but the sooner I see my grandchild, the better.”

His grandchild? The possessive pronoun left a bitter taste in Kenji’s mouth. It stung that his father was now trying to insert himself into their lives.

“Just a few months to go,” you said, trying to maintain a calm tone. Hayao reached over to place his hand on your bump. Kenji’s first instinct was to swat his hand away and tell him not to touch his wife.

But he held himself back, and allowed you to handle the situation. You didn’t pull away and let Hayao feel the baby’s movements.

“And how is the baby doing? Kicking a lot…I assume?” Hayao asked.

“Yeah, they’re very active,” you replied with a light laugh.

“Ah, I can imagine the little one must be feisty.”

Kenji stood off to the side, silently observing the interaction. He hadn’t moved an inch from the doorway as his dad interacted with you so casually.

His face morphed into a bitter rage, not understanding why his father was acting so excited and caring about your child. They hadn’t spoken in years, and yet here he was, acting as if nothing had happened.

He was probably only doing it to avoid causing an uncomfortable scene in front of you, much to Kenji’s relief. The last thing he wanted was to drag you into his family issues.

Hayao spoke again, completely oblivious to Kenji’s inner turmoil, “Any idea on the sex yet?”

You shook your head, still holding your excited expression. You didn’t have anyone to share the news with, so Kenji couldn’t blame you for your giddiness. “We wanted to keep it a surprise.”

Kenji clenched his jaw. He didn’t like the way Hayao was observing your growing belly. “You know, you remind me of my wife when she was pregnant. She always had a glow, even at the last phase.”

Kenji felt like he had just been dunked in a tub of ice. It hadn’t even been a minute, and already his father is bringing up his mother. But what his father said next did not sit right with him.

“I have some experience in the field of pregnancy. Some challenges might come up. But don’t worry, I’m here to help any way I can.”

No thanks.

“Thank you.” You said, your gratitude seemed genuine. “Uhm, do you want to take a seat? I’ll bring some tea,”

“Yes, thank you, dear.” Hayao smiled and sat down on one of the couches, making himself comfortable. His eyes flickered back at Kenji who hadn't said a word yet. “Actually, do you mind if I speak with Kenji for a few minutes in private?”

“Of course. I’ll get the tea ready,” you left before disappearing in the kitchen, leaving Kenji alone with his father.

The floor felt like hot coal. So much for escaping his dad’s presence in the bedroom. Hayao waited until you were out of sight before he turned to face Kenji.

“I’m glad you didn’t walk out the second I showed up. Your wife is very kind…” He paused, waiting to see if Kenji would say anything. He gave no response, so Hayao asked, “Can we talk? Just the two of us?”

“What do you want to talk about, Dad?”

“I want to talk about us. You and I. We’ve been…distant for a long time,”

That was putting it lightly, but Kenji held his tongue. His father was probably already aware of that.

“Dad…it’s been twenty years. Twenty years of you suddenly becoming distant from us. You never were around when Mom and I needed you,”

Twenty years. To his father, it might seem like just a fraction of his life, given his old age— a couple of decades.

But to Kenji, those two decades were everything. It was enough time for him to nearly erase his father from his thoughts entirely.

“I know it’s been a long time, but I’m here now, trying to make amends and make up for lost time.”

“Amends? You can’t just show up and expect everything to be fine, Dad. Do you think you can mend everything with just some apologies and small talk?”

“I know it won't fix everything. But I want to be a part of your life again, especially now with my grandchild on the way,”

“So that’s what it’s about? You’re only here because of the baby. Where were you when I was growing up? Why did you stay in Japan and leave me and Mom in America?”

“I always thought about you, Kenji. Always keep an eye on you from afar.” Hayao said gently. “But I admit, the thought of becoming a grandparent has made me realise the importance…the importance of family.”

If he kept an eye on him from afar, why couldn’t he be there in person? Why wasn’t he l there face-to-face, especially when it mattered most? Why wait twenty years?

Hayao continued. “I want to make it up to you, be there for you and for your child.”

Kenji stayed silent after that. The conversation wasn't going anywhere, and there were many unresolved issues that needed to be addressed if any real progress was to be made.

His mind was conflicted with his warring thoughts. One one hand, there was a lingering fear about letting his father in which will lead to further disappointment and pain.

On the other hand, despite harboring a deep resentment towards his father, there was a small part of him that hoped that this might be a chance to heal old wounds.

“Kenji! Can you help me with the tea please?” Your voice tore through the suspension in the room, making Kenji’s suffocation disappear.

“Yeah, coming,” he called back, casting one last glance at his father before heading to the kitchen, leaving the tension in the living room behind.

Kenji found you attending the water on the stove with a teapot and three mugs on a tray. Being in the kitchen with you, away from his father felt like a breath of fresh air— the tension in his shoulders ebbed away, replaced by the comforting normalcy of being alone with you.

“Soo…how’s it going?” you asked, turning to look at him.

“It’s…going I guess.” Kenji sighed deeply. “Talking to my dad is harder than I thought it would be.” He hadn’t fully grasped how many old wounds will be torn open just from his father's presence alone.

“Kenji.” Your voice softened. Kenji's gaze fixated on the hand that was resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart.

He brought his hand to hold yours as if anchoring himself. “Yeah…?”

“I know it’s tough, especially with your mom not being around anymore. And I know I don’t know the full story of your childhood and your pain…but he’s the only family we have.”

“Yeah, I know but it’s not easy. It’s hard to trust him when he hasn't been around for twenty years.”

“Do you think you could give him a chance?” You paused for a moment before you added, “If not for yourself, then at least for the baby. I really want them to know their grandparents,” you pleaded, your voice laced with hope.

Kenji closed his eyes as he processed your words. The thought of rebuilding a relationship with his father seems like an insurmountable task, a risk he wasn’t sure he could take.

But, he knew how important this was for you, especially with your parents not around anymore. You wanted the baby to have a connection with their family, which also meant including everyone.

He opened his eyes to see you looking back up at him, waiting patiently for his response. It took a few seconds for him to trust himself to answer, “I…I’ll try, for you and the baby. But honestly, no promises.”

“That’s all I want to hear.” you said, your smile warm and comforting, “I love you…”

Kenji’s heart soared at that, and he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer. “I love you too.”

You leaned closer until your lips captured his. Kenji felt his world stop the moment he felt your lips. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

After a moment, he pulled his lips away but he still held you close, resting his forehead on yours. A hint of a smile tugged on his lips but his voice didn’t hide the vulnerability he was feeling, “I’ll try and hear him out, but I know it’s not gonna be a walk in the park.”

There was so much more he wanted to say, but he kept it to himself, instead turning his attention to helping you in the kitchen. He took over brewing the tea, carefully pouring it into the teapot. He made sure not to accidentally jostle you while he set up the tray.

“Thanks for being patient with me, and for understanding. I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes.” Kenji murmured, his voice carrying his gratitude.

“Thank you for not being mad at me for answering his call,” you replied. You were trying to be lighthearted, but he could sense the underlying concern— there was no doubt that you were anxious about how he’d react to the news about his dad

“How can I be mad at you for that? I know you meant well. You just want what’s best for our family.”

“He kept calling, I couldn’t ignore him.”

“I know, you’re too kind for your own good sometimes, you know that.” He smiled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “But seriously, you gotta stop answering unknown calls. Never know who’s on the other line.”

You laughed softly before placing the teapot on the tray. “Do you think I should make anything else?”

Kenji glanced back at the tray with the mugs and the teapot. “Nah, I think what you’ve got is plenty. The old man probably had enough caffeine today anyways.”

“Do you want me to go with you this time?”

Kenji nodded. He knew that having you there with him would make the conversation with his dad easier, especially when he felt on edge. “Yeah, let’s go. And if it gets too much, just squeeze my hand, okay?

Carrying the tray, Kenji felt his nerves calming as you walked beside him. Your quiet support was a steady force, and with your presence, he felt ready to face whatever conversation awaited in the living room.

He matched his steps to yours, moving slowly and carefully so you wouldn’t fall behind. The moment you stepped into the living room, Hayao straightened up, glancing back at your growing belly— which didn't escape Kenji’s notice.

He set the tray down on the table and took a seat on the couch, deliberately keeping his distance from his father.

“I hope green tea is okay for you,” you said, pouring the tea into Hayao’s cup before filling the other two mugs for yourself and Kenji.

Hayao nodded politely, steam curling from the rim as he picked up the cup with the freshly brewed tea. “Yes, thank you. Green tea is fine, I appreciate your hospitality,”

Kenji took his cup and leaned back against the couch, watching the exchange between you and his father. He was grateful the conversation wasn’t circling back to him. Right now, he needed a break from the emotional push and pull.

He kept his expression guarded, making no attempt to interrupt or intervene between the two of you, though he couldn’t ignore the swirl of conflicted emotions simmering beneath the surface.

“So…I hope you don’t mind me being here now,” you said sheepishly.

“No it’s not a bother. This tea is lovely, by the way. Thank you.”

“Of course. It’s all homemade,”

“Ah, that explains why it’s good. My son is very lucky indeed,” Hayao said. Kenji could pick up on the hesitation in his father’s voice, as if he was carefully choosing each word, trying to not overstep.

But the simple topic of your homemade tea seemed to have thawed some of the ice. Hayao took another sip from his cup, his eyes on you as you continued the small talk.

“How are you feeling, though? I imagine pregnancy isn’t easy on the body,”

“Well…I would be a mess without Kenji.” You admitted, taking his hand and lacing your fingers with his. Kenji’s heart throbbed at the gesture.

The ice melted further.

He felt you squeeze his hands softly, a silent nudge to encourage him to join the conversation. He steeled himself before he found his voice. “She’s just being modest. She’s been braving through morning sickness, swollen feet, and all the cravings like a champion,”

“That does sound like a journey. You have a strong woman there, Kenji.”

“Yeah, I know, and I’m grateful everyday.” The pride in his voice was palpable, filling the space between them. Even Hayao could feel it from where he was sitting.

“I can see that. Your mother would be very proud to see the man you’ve become.”

And just like that, the ice quickly solidified again.

The words struck Kenji like a blow, his grip tightening around his mug. The pressure in his chest increased as the mention of his mother stirred memories he wasn’t ready to confront.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his voice controlled. “Dad…don’t,” he managed, his tone a mixture of warning and plea.

Hayao noticed the shift immediately, but he didn’t backpedal from the subject. There was a hint of remorse in his eyes, with his voice gentle but firm. “I know it’s a sensitive topic, Kenji. But I meant what I said. She would be proud of the family you’re building right now.”

He couldn’t deny the truth in his dads words, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. The pain was still raw. The topic was still too heavy for him to fully address at the moment.

“I…I need some air,” he muttered, rising abruptly from the couch. The connection between your hands broke, leaving your fingers grasping at empty space.

“Kenji…” you called after him, your voice laced with concern. Your hand looked empty without his. Kenji quickly teared his gaze away.

“I need a moment. I’ll be back,” the words came out more rushed than intended.

A hint of guilt tugged in his heart as he left without another word. He pushed past the door with the cool night air slapped against his face. The door closed behind him with a solid thud, the sound echoing in the sudden silence he left behind.

Kenji slumped onto one of the cold stone benches in the courtyard, dropping his head in his palms. As much as he hated to admit it, he really wished his mother was here right now. She would know exactly what to say, how to untangle the knot of emotions tightening in his chest.

Since the day of her disappearance, it felt like a piece of him had been ripped away, leaving a gaping void that nothing could fill. His entire world had darkened, but he forced himself to continue living, driven by a demanding career that wouldn’t allow him to pause, even when his heart was breaking.

And then things got more complicated. He had been thrusted back into Japan, not by choice but by obligation, to take up his father’s mantle as Ultraman. It was a role he never asked for, a burden he wasn’t ready to carry, especially not with the unresolved pain of his mother’s absence still weighing down on him.

But then he met you.

For the first time, he allowed himself to be swept away by someone who truly saw him, not just the hero or the star baseball player he was expected to be. You didn’t realise it, but you had a way of pulling him back from the edge. He wished he could tell you how much that meant to him, but he was never good at expressing it.

Now, with a child on the way— his child, who you were carrying and nurturing— he felt more helpless than ever. How could a baby rely on him when he couldn’t even keep his own emotions in check? How could he be a father when he crumbled at the mere mention of his mother?

The soft sound of the door opening could be heard from behind, but Kenji didn’t bother to look up. He knew it was you. His father wouldn’t be so thoughtless as to follow him after what had just happened.

“Kenji?” you called out softly, your footsteps growing closer. Kenji didn’t respond, his face still buried in his palm.

“Oh, Ken…” you teased gently, trying to lighten the mood. Kenji let out a weary sigh but didn’t look up.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Dad?” His voice came out rough, his irritation from earlier still simmering.

You sat down beside him, the bench cool beneath you. “No…not with you feeling like this,”

Kenji’s shoulders tensed, still refusing to meet your gaze. He was trembling slightly, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

“I’m fine.” he said through gritted teeth, an obvious contradiction to his current state.

“Not with that tone, you’re not.”

“And so what if I’m not fine? What’s it to you anyways?” He snapped, his voice sharp like a razor blade. He regretted it immediately, hating himself for directing his frustration at you. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his messy relationship with his father.

But you could see right through his bullshit, as always. “Come here.” you coaxed, your voice soft and inviting. Kenji hesitated, his eyes flickered up to yours for the first time. He saw the warmth in your gaze that seemed to glow even under the darkness of the night with your open arms waiting to embrace him.

For a moment, his stubbornness kept him rooted in place, his pride demanding to stay strong, stay distant. But the comfort you offered was too tempting.

He turned his gaze away. “Why should I?”

“Let me hold you.” you whispered, arms still open for him.

Kenji looked back at you again, feeling his resolve weaken. He knew he couldn’t resist you— not when you were offering him the solace he desperately craved. He’d be a fool to reject it. With a heavy sigh, he gave in.

“Fine…” he shifted himself closer until he was in your embrace. He rested his head against your chest, his body relaxed as your warmth surrounded him.

The soft curve of your pregnancy bump nestled between the two of you, a reminder of the life brewing inside of you.

“Oh Kenji…” you murmured, gently stroking his face as he nuzzled into your neck. The rhythm of your heartbeat and the presence of the baby’s bump had a grounding effect on him. You felt like home— everything he needed right now.

The remorse from his earlier harsh tone towards you, combined with the aching absence of his mother, came crashing down. It was enough to shatter his pride as he leaned into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice quivering with emotion.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you rubbed his back, soothing his frying nerves.

He didn’t realise how stiff his body was until he finally allowed him to relax in your embrace. It was rare for him to be this vulnerable, but being held like this in your arms, it was easy to let his guard down.

All the pent up pain and suffering he’d been carrying for years finally found release through his tears. He let out a soft sob against your neck, the fabric of your shirt growing damp.

After a long, quiet moment, you spoke again, “This is going to be more complicated than I imagined.”

“It’s all so complicated,” he echoed.

“I know…do you think we can resolve things before the baby arrives?”

“I..I don’t think I can fix everything…not with all that’s happening. But I don’t want our child to grow up in a house filled with tension.” Kenji admitted slowly.

“Me neither,” you agreed, the shared concern binding you closer.

“I’ll try. I’ll try to fix things. But I don’t even know where to start…it’s been too long…” his voice wavered with the remnant of his sobs. Yet, for once, he didn’t feel embarrassed about it this time. The weight of responsibility to make things right for the baby was daunting.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, filling him with a sense of reassurance. “We don’t have to fix everything tonight.”

“…you’re right.”

“But maybe we can at least end things on a civil note.”

Kenji nodded mutely, still feeling the residue of his tears but more at peace with his emotions now.

He pulled away from you and wiped his face with the back of his hands, smearing the last of his tears away.

“Are you okay with going back inside, or do you need more time?” You asked gently.

Kenji took a few steady breaths, his crying fully subsided. He met your gaze, then glanced back at the house, a newfound sense of resignation washing over him. “I’m okay…let’s head back,”

“Okay….We don’t want to keep you dad waiting any longer,”

Kenji stood from his seat and soothed his hair, trying to make himself look a little more presentable. He knew his eyes were probably red, and he might still look a bit disheveled from crying, but he was ready to face what came next.

You both walked back into the living room, hand in hand. Hayao looked up as you returned and sat down, his eyes briefly flickering over Kenji’s appearance.

Kenji was grateful his father didn’t comment on his puffy eyes.

“Sorry for the wait,” you said apologetically.

Hayao shook his head, a weary smile on his lips. “No need to apologise, dear. It needed to happen.”

Silence settled over the room for a moment. Kenji’s muscles were still rigid and his fingers subconsciously gripped your hand a little tighter.

Hayao gaze flickered between the two of you. He let out a quiet sigh, his action heavy with regret. “I suppose I should start, hm?”

Kenji nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Both of your gazes bore onto Hayao, waiting for what he was about to say.

“I…I know I haven’t been the best father to you, Kenji. I’ve been hard on you, too focused on Ultraman…I’ve put too much pressure on you and neglected everything else.” Hayao said softly, sadness evident in his eyes.

Kenji felt a jolt of surprise listening to his father. He didn’t let his guard down fully, but hearing his father’s self-awareness stirred something in him. Maybe it was the unexpected acknowledgment of his shortcomings as a parent.

Hayao continued, “Looking back, I realised I've made a lot of mistakes. I’ve been more of a boss than a father,”

Kenji felt the weight of his dads words, his remorse clear in his voice. But Kenji knew that years of tension and resentment couldn’t be fixed with just a few words of apology.

“I…don’t expect forgiveness, of course. I know I can’t turn back time, but I wanted to apologise to both of you.”

Kenji struggled to find the right words until he felt the reassuring grip of your hand, your thumb gently stroking over his knuckles. The small gesture helped calm some of the tension.

Finally, he spoke, his voice slightly strained, “I…I appreciate the apology, Dad. It’s a start.”

The rest of the conversation revolves around the future and the baby, with the interaction feeling more natural. The tension between Kenji and Hayao had eased somewhat.

At one point, Hayao asked about how Kenji planned to juggle his career, fatherhood and his Ultraman duties. Kenji explained that you’d both discussed this early in your marriage and were ready to handle the challenges.

But the conversation was cut short when you let out a sudden hiss from pain. Immediately, Kenji’s full attention was on you on high alert.

“Hey, you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed his concern. When you didn’t respond right away, his worry deepened.

“Is it the baby kicking?” he asked.

You nodded, struggling to speak through the discomfort.

Kenji placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice soft but steady. “Easy, take a deep breath. The kicks might feel uncomfortable, but it’s a good sign the baby’s healthy.”

“Ah…Ken…ji…” you stuttered, the pain evident in your voice. His brows furrowed with worry, and instinctively rubbed circles over your belly.

“I’m here,” he reassured you. “Do you need anything? Water? Some more pillows?”

He almost forgot about his dad’s presence until he quickly stood from his seat and approached you. His expression was serious, his eyes flickering back to you and you bump.

“I’m going to get you a warm compress. It might help ease some of the discomfort,” Hayao said quickly, his voice still firm.

“Yeah…ah, okay.” You managed.

Hayao nodded and left the room to fetch the warm compress. Kenji stayed beside you, his hand squeezing yours gently. “Just hang in there okay? You’re doing great. We’re almost through the third trimester and it’ll all be worth it.”

“Kenji…”

His heart skipped a beat. “Is the pain getting worse?”

“I feel something wet,”

Kenji froze. You couldn’t possibly mean…? No. He had to ask if he heard that correctly.

“Wet? Are you sweating or…?” He let the rest of the sentence hang in the air. He didn’t want to think about your water breaking now, especially when you still had several weeks until your due date.

“Where’s Hayao?”

Kenji’s stress only deepened further when you didn’t answer his question. “Dad’s still getting the compress…are you sure you’re feeling something wet?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…don’t panic. We’ll figure this out. Do you feel any cramps or contractions?”

You shook your head. But there was still the matter of the wet sensation.

Kenji glanced towards the door, where his dad had disappeared. Whether he liked it or not, he really needed his dad right now— someone with experience, even if their relationship were strained.

He gazed back at you, his hands on your bump. “I think I peed…” you murmured, not meeting his eyes.

Kenji blinked in surprise, then his lips twitched up into a smile. The stress that had been coiled right within him unraveled almost instantly. Relief washed over him, and he felt a sudden urge to laugh at the situation.

It was such a normal, human moment— a reminder that despite the chaos, you were both still two people trying to navigate through this together.

“Oh, thank God. For a second I thought…” He shook his head, still smiling. “It’s okay, don’t worry. It happens sometimes during pregnancy, especially at this stage. Dad will be back with the compress for the kicks, alright? Just hang in there.”

“I feel gross,” you muttered, voice laced with frustration.

Kenji quickly shook his head immediately, his tone gentle and reassuring. “No, don’t say that. These things happen, it’s completely normal. You’re doing an amazing job.”

Just as he finished speaking, Hayao returned swiftly, the warm compress in his hand. “I’m back. What’s happening?”

Kenji’s gaze met his father’s, his expression stayed neutral, “She felt something wet, but she just accidentally peed herself a bit from the baby’s kicking,” Kenji explained. “She’s not experiencing any contractions, though.”

Too embarrassed to look up, you kept your head low, hiding your face behind your hands.

Hayao chuckled softly, his expression warm with understanding. “It’s okay, dear. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” Hayao stepped forward with the compress and settled beside you. He placed the compress over your bump, the warmth seeping through the fabric. “This should help alleviate the kicking, at least a little.”

Kenji watched as your face softened, the tension in your body visibly uncoiling. He smiled tenderly, “See? The compress is working, huh?” You’ll feel better in no time,”

“My clothes are soiled…” you whimpered.

“Don’t worry about that,” Hayao reassured you.“We’ll get you cleaned up once everything’s under control, okay? For now, just focus on resting and letting the compress its job,”

Kenji nodded in agreement, “Once the kicking settles down, we’ll get you cleaned up. A nice shower and a change of fresh, dry clothes will make you feel a lot better,”

Kenji’s mind drifted back to everything that had transpired in the past few minutes— from the moment you both stepped inside the house to now.

He couldn’t shake off the feeling of inadequacy that crept in him as he observed his father handling the situation so seamlessly. Despite his fathers help being a relief, it also stirred some doubt within him: Was he doing enough for you?

The man who has always been distant was now stepping in. Was his father silently judging him?

The mixed emotions were overwhelming. On one hand, Kenji was grateful— he wasn’t alone when caring for you. On the other, it was unsettling to have his father step into the role Kenji had felt it was his to bear.

Could this be a change in their relationship, or was this just a temporary reprieve from the years of coldness?

There was no point in overthinking, Kenji thought to himself. Forcing things to change between them could do more harm than good. For now, it was best to let things evolve on its own.

Once the kicking had subsided and you were feeling more comfortable, Kenji carefully helped you to the bathroom. He waited as you emptied your bladder, then gently guided you into the shower.

After you were dressed in fresh clothes, Kenji led you to the bedroom. He helped you onto the bed, making sure you were settled in the right position for comfort. Your eyelids grew heavy as you slowly fell asleep.

“Sleep well, sweet girl,” he whispered before planting a kiss on your forehead. He quietly left the room and closed the door behind him.

Outside he found his father waiting. The mere sight of him standing there brought back the knot of emotions Kenji had only just managed to unravel.

Kenji’s searched in his father’s expression for any hint of where things stood between them now. After a few heartbeats, Kenji opened his mouth to speak, his voice subdued.

“She’s asleep,” Kenji simply stated.

Hayao nodded, “That’s good, let her rest. She needs it after what happened tonight,”

Kenji exhaled, a heavy breath escaped him, “Yeah…I can’t help but worry for her. What if something serious had happened?”

Hayao’s tone was gentle as he replied, “I understand your worry. But she’s a strong one, and the baby is healthy. Trust in that, Kenji. She needs your support more than ever right now,”

Kenji knew his father was right, but his protective instincts that came with being both a husband and soon-to-be father made it difficult to fully ease his mind.

“You’re right, she is strong. I just…I just wish there was more I could do for her,” He glanced back at the door, thinking of you asleep inside. “I feel helpless sometimes, watching her go through all of this.”

Hayao placed his hand on Kenji’s shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. For once, Kenji didn’t feel the usual urge to flinch. Instead he welcomed the touch, finding an unexpected comfort in his father’s gestures.

“Believe me, I know how you feel. Watching the mother of your child go through pregnancy can be excruciating. But your support and your presence is the most important thing you can’t offer.”

This was something Kenji had never spoken about with anyone, not even with you. He kept his fear and doubts to himself, not wanting to burden you when you were focusing on nurturing the baby.

But now, standing with his father, he found himself opening up in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

But how ironic it was that he was comfortable enough to confide with his father— the same man that had once been a distant figure. But perhaps working together to ease your discomfort was what made things easier.

His father had been through this before, and likely, he had been just as uncertain and vulnerable. The realisation brought a surge of confidence in Kenji.

“I’ll be there for her,” Kenji said, more to himself than his father. “No matter what.”

A few hours later, Kenji got himself ready for bed, his body heavy with exhaustion. The day had been long and filled with unexpected turns, but finally, he could see the end of it. As he slid under the covers, he noticed you stirred, your eyes fluttering open.

Kenji smiled softly. “Hey, sleepyhead. You’re awake,” he murmured softly, reaching out to gently caress your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

You slowly sat up, rubbing some of the sleep from your eyes. “Groggy…” you muttered, your voice still thick with sleep.

Kenji chuckled softly. “Groggy, huh? Well you did sleep for a while. Take your time.” He leaned closer, his concern slipping back into his voice. “How’s the baby? Any more kicking?”

You shook your head slightly, stretching your arms above you with your belly arching as your body moved. “Not at the moment,” you said with a small sigh. “Has your dad left?”

“Yeah, he mentioned he had some important calls to make back home,” Kenji hesitated for a moment, “Why? Are you feeling okay? Do you need something from him?”

“No,” you replied. “I just wanted to know how are things with him now,”

Kenji sighed, ranking a hand through his hair. “Things between me and dad have been, well, better than before. We’re still working through some stuff, but tonight…was different.”

“You both make a good team, you know. The way you were both quick to attend to my aches,” you said softly.

Kenji smiled, feeling a swell of emotions at your words— mostly pride mingled with relief. “Thank you, sweetheart. Who knew a baby would bring us both together,” he rested his hands over your belly.

At that moment it dawned on him just how much the baby had done to bridge the gap between him and his father. This tiny unborn child had given them both a common purpose and a reason to put aside their differences and focused on what truly mattered.

You leaned against the pillows. “Come here,” you said, pulling him closer.

Kenji slipped further into the covers, his arms wrapped around you protectively. He pressed a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a moment as he breathed in your comforting scent.

As you drifted back to sleep, Kenji held you close and ran his hand over your belly, his heart full.

He knew the road wasn’t going to be easy, but at that moment, he felt ready. If he could build a better relationship with his father, he felt like he could conquer anything, as long as you were by his side.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @gyusimp @aise-30 @popmagical @jellybonbons @coinduck

@rosaliin-blog @stfuchaase @blooscool @despacito-uwu16

Phew finally

Ayrus xoxo

[livelaughlovesubs]

okay my dude, have you seen the recent hsr leaks about mr. reca??2?2?2?2?1!#+@( I am so down bad for that man you wouldn't understand........ anyways, I'd like to ask for prompt 28 (fitting them with a collar) with him :3333

- anon

I saw!!! But I don’t have a single clue what his personality is like! I’d guess a fun but sly character? Welp, let’s see how this goes (I have no ideas help)

Dom!Actor!reader x sub!Reca - reader is GN

Warning: collaring, teasing, fwb…?

Anniversary event

“Oh come y/n, for old time’s sake, do it for me, alright?” You clicked your tongue, not even looking at the individual who was talking to you, back facing to them with your arms crossed, “I won’t do it, I told you already.” A moment of silence, before they sighed and closed the distance between you two, “why won’t you take that role?”

“Mr. Reca, will you please respect my choices?” Suddenly you turned around and raised your voice, seeing him lean against the couch in the middle of the room, wearing a fading smile. “I need you for that role, there’s no one else who can take it.” He repeated once again, then continued with, “and I won’t leave until I’ve convinced you, or, if you gave me a reason for your decision.” You slammed one hand onto the makeup table in front of you, putting the other against your forehead. “If I gave you a reason, you’ll have hope, and keep trying.”

The male kept quite, he couldn’t argue with that one, “if it because of the writing? Or the personality of the character?” You shook your head, “no, none of that. Don’t bother me any further, Reca, don’t let our friendship go to waste because of some measly dispute.” He scoffed, grinning widely, throwing his head back in a defeated stance, “I’ve already got sponsors and began the preparations, I can’t go back now. Y/n, help me out, I don’t want to end up as minced meat.”

You chuckled, answering his plead with a sarcastic smile, “it’s your own fault. Don’t worry, I can introduce you to some actors.” Reca looked down to his feet, taking a deep breath, exhaling, before staring you in the eyes, “no, I still want you, and I won’t have it any other way.” After debating for so long, you thought he’d finally crave in, though it seems you underestimated his resolve. “Reca, i-” “yea yea, you don’t want to, got it. So, what can I do to convince you?”

Your eyes widened at that, it took you a while to compose yourself, “wow, your resolve is admirable, but I don’t think I’ll fold.” The brunette stepped away from the couch, getting closer to you, mumbling, “don’t be shy now~ you can request whatever you want. A deal, of some kind, what do you think?” It’d be a lie to say you weren’t intrigued, just how far could you push his buttons, you wondered. “Whatever?” You repeated his words in a questioning tone.

“Whatever.”

“Do your movies mean more to you than your life?” You joked, shaking your head in disbelieve. “Let’s see what I can make you do.” His eyes lit up, his usual cheerfulness returned, “so you agree? Haha! You have my gratitude, y/n! Aeons, lemme kiss you.” Out of nowhere he hugged you and kissed you on the cheeks, both sides, before taking a few steps back. You on the other hand froze, blinking a few times, remembering his eccentric tendencies, then gagging out a, “don’t thank me- it’s a mutual deal.”

“Right, that reminds me, got any idea what you want?” Reca smirked again, he was in a usually good mood now. “I’ll just have you as my pet.” You eventually said, then you specified your statement, “ah, and I’ll only cooperate as long as you are my pet.” When you looked over at him again, his mouth hung agape, red eyes shrunk a little while he stood there like a statue. “…you are joking.” He asked carefully. “I’m not.”

An awkward silence broke out once more, luckily he broke the ice after a few seconds, though it was done with a condescending comment, “Right, you were an eccentric like that.” A breathy laugh escape you, “hah, says who?” You two kept eye contact for a while, then he gave up and hide his face in his hand, groaning, “urghhhhhhh.” A faint blush covered his ears, and probably his cheeks as well.

“So?” You questioned, wondering if that was too much for him. “What? Of course i agree.” Reca frowned, an embarrassed scorn on his face, why were you so nonchalant about all of this? After getting his consent, you couldn’t help but sigh, “You really are a slave to your production.” He grinned again, winking at you, “Aren’t we all slaves to our desires?”

You thought about it, opening the drawer of the furniture behind you, taking something out before taking a few steps closer to the rather tall male in front of you. “Yea, you are right, it’s a part of being human I guess.” Then you wrapped the leather around his neck, pulling gently, tightening it. When you were done, you raised his chin, teasing him with a hint of irony, “don’t take it off, it’s a gift from me, your master.” His breathing hitched, but he didn’t back down, feeling the weight of the situation finally catching up to him.

“I’m sure the movie will turn out great, all thanks to you.” He then stated, rubbing the collar around his neck, feeling a weird sense of comfort inside him. You nodded, “of course it will, I don’t tolerate failures.” Reca laughed softly, then whispered meekly, “right. For that, I’ll be a good pet in return, master.”

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (addendum)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: honeymoon

- Next part: rook's rest

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995 @thisbiann @whiteoakoak

The gates of King’s Landing swung open with a grand flourish as you and Aegon returned from your whirlwind tour of the realm, greeted by the thunderous cheers of the gathered crowds. Banners fluttered in the breeze, the sigils of both Targaryen dragons and Lannister lions emblazoned proudly on the fabric, while the people shouted their king’s name.

Aegon, ever the showman, soaked it all in with a wide grin, waving dramatically to the people as though he had just conquered the Seven Kingdoms single-handedly. You, perched beside him on horseback, had to stifle a laugh. For all the pomp and spectacle of this homecoming, you could tell Aegon was already itching to extend the party.

As you rode through the streets, the capital bursting with energy, Aegon leaned toward you, his grin widening. “Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with excitement, “I’ve decided. We’re not done celebrating yet. We’ve shown the rest of the realm how to have a proper feast—now it’s time for King’s Landing to see what real revelry looks like.”

You raised an eyebrow, though you could already sense where this was heading. “Aegon,” you said, half-amused, half-cautious, “we’ve been feasting for weeks. Surely the court could use a break.”

Aegon shook his head, waving off the notion as if it were absurd. “Nonsense! The people deserve a celebration fit for a king—and queen,” he added with a wink. “We’ll carry on the festivities for the rest of the moon! Feasts, tourneys, music in every corner of the city! They’ll be talking about it for years.”

Before you could respond, the gates to the Red Keep came into view, and the sight of the familiar walls made your stomach flip slightly. You could already imagine the look on Alicent’s face when Aegon announced his grand plans.

Sure enough, not long after you dismounted and entered the throne room, there stood Queen Alicent, her face set in a stern frown as she waited for the two of you. Otto Hightower stood beside her, his expression unreadable but his fingers steepled in that calculating way of his. And just beyond them, Aemond loomed in his usual silent, brooding manner, his single eye watching everything with an intensity that never seemed to fade.

As you and Aegon approached, Alicent wasted no time. “Aegon,” she began, her voice tight, “I trust your tour went well, but it’s time to return to the business of ruling. The capital cannot afford to indulge in more distractions.”

Aegon, still riding high on the enthusiasm of the crowds, waved a hand dismissively, his smile unfazed by her scolding tone. “Oh, Mother, lighten up! The people love a good celebration, and we’ve been giving them the best across the realm. It’s only fair that King’s Landing gets to enjoy the same.”

Alicent’s frown deepened, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Aegon, the treasury is not bottomless. Another month of feasting and revelry will stretch our resources thin. We must be responsible.”

Aegon scoffed, leaning back against the nearest pillar as though the very idea of restraint was foreign to him. “Responsible? What’s more responsible than keeping the people happy, hmm? A happy people don’t rebel, Mother. Besides, we’ve got plenty left in the coffers.”

Alicent opened her mouth to argue further, but before she could get a word in, Otto Hightower cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. His eyes flicked between you and Aegon, and to your surprise, his lips curled into a small smile.

“Aegon is right,” Otto said calmly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “The celebrations have been well-received across the realm. They have strengthened alliances and fostered goodwill. Extending the festivities here in the capital would solidify that image. A generous king is often a beloved one.”

Alicent shot her father a sharp look, her displeasure obvious. “Father, the court—”

Otto raised a hand, silencing her. “The court will adjust. We can manage the expenses for another moon. This is a time of transition, and maintaining the support of the realm is paramount.”

You glanced at Aegon, whose grin had only grown wider now that his grandfather had weighed in on his side. He turned to you, his expression triumphant. “See, Y/N? Even Otto agrees with me. The feasting continues!”

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly torn between her frustration and her inability to counter Otto’s logic. You could practically see the internal battle playing out behind her eyes. Finally, she let out a sigh, though it was filled with exasperation.

“Very well,” she said, her voice tight. “But keep it within reason, Aegon. The court cannot afford your excesses forever.”

Aegon beamed, clearly taking that as an outright victory. “Of course, Mother. Reasonable revelry. I can do that.”

You bit back a laugh, knowing full well that “reasonable” and “Aegon” rarely went together, especially when wine and celebrations were involved.

As the conversation moved on to other matters of state, Aemond approached, his usual brooding expression firmly in place. He stood beside you, his presence silent but somehow more intense than anyone else in the room.

“You’ve returned, I see,” Aemond said, his voice low as he glanced at you, the edge of his mouth quirking ever so slightly. “I trust Aegon kept you… entertained.”

There was something in the way he said it that made you smirk. “Entertained? That’s one way to put it,” you replied, keeping your tone light. “It was certainly more… lively than I expected.”

Aemond huffed a quiet laugh, though his gaze remained fixed on the gathering. “I can imagine. My brother never does things by halves.”

You smiled, glancing sideways at him. “And you, Aemond? I imagine you would have preferred a more… subdued tour?”

Aemond’s eye flicked toward you, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. “Perhaps. But sometimes it’s necessary to indulge in… excess. When the occasion calls for it.”

There was a brief pause, a moment where the weight of your words—his words—hung between you, unspoken but present. Aemond’s eye lingered on yours for just a beat longer than was necessary before he turned his gaze back to the court.

Meanwhile, Aegon, now fully engrossed in discussing the details of his extended celebration with Otto, called out over his shoulder, “Come, Y/N! We’ve got a feast to plan. Tourneys, music, and of course, more wine! We’ll make this a month to remember.”

You gave Aemond one last, lingering glance before moving to join Aegon, the smirk still playing on your lips. King’s Landing was in for quite the spectacle—though you had a feeling the real entertainment had only just begun.

The festivities in King’s Landing were in full swing. The courtyard of the Red Keep was alive with music, the clatter of goblets, and the sound of laughter. The scent of roasted meats and fresh bread wafted through the air as courtiers danced, drank, and mingled under the golden glow of torches.

Aegon was, unsurprisingly, at the center of it all. His goblet of wine was never empty, and his laughter echoed through the courtyard as he moved from one group of guests to another, basking in the glory of his extended celebration. You stood by his side, entertaining the courtiers with your charm and grace, though your attention occasionally drifted to the antics unfolding around you.

Aemond, as was his habit, stood on the sidelines, his brooding presence a stark contrast to the revelry around him. He watched the festivities with a quiet intensity, his single eye scanning the crowd, though every so often, his gaze seemed to linger in your direction just a bit longer than usual.

It didn’t take long for Aegon to notice.

He was halfway through another story—one you had heard more times than you could count—when he suddenly paused, his grin faltering for a moment as he caught Aemond looking your way. His brow furrowed slightly, and he turned his head to squint at his brother, his expression somewhere between confusion and suspicion.

You raised an eyebrow, wondering what had caused Aegon’s sudden silence, but before you could ask, he leaned closer to you, his voice low but loud enough to catch the attention of anyone nearby.

“Is it just me,” Aegon slurred, his tone a mix of amusement and indignation, “or has my dear brother been stealing glances at my beloved wife all night?”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden accusation, and glanced over at Aemond, who stiffened slightly, his posture going even more rigid than usual. His eye narrowed, and for a moment, it looked as though he was about to brush off the accusation with his typical icy calm. But instead, he responded, his voice more defensive than even he likely intended.

“I was not stealing glances, Aegon,” Aemond said, his tone clipped, though the way his eye darted between you and Aegon betrayed a hint of unease. “I was merely… observing.”

Aegon, clearly emboldened by the wine, let out a loud, exaggerated gasp and clutched his chest dramatically. “Observing? Oh, dear brother, that sounds an awful lot like admiring to me!” He leaned closer to you, his arm snaking around your waist as he grinned wickedly. “I knew it! You’ve been eyeing my beautiful queen this whole time!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though you tried to stifle it, glancing over at Aemond, who now looked as though he wanted to throttle Aegon or possibly sink into the nearest shadow and disappear. His jaw clenched tightly, and he met Aegon’s gaze with a steely glare.

“Aegon,” Aemond said through gritted teeth, “I have no interest in your drunken fantasies. You’re imagining things.”

But Aegon, now fully enjoying the moment, wasn’t about to let it go. He grinned even wider, clearly thriving off of Aemond’s discomfort. “Oh, I don’t think so! I see the way you look at her—like a cat eyeing a piece of cream. You’ve always had that brooding look, but this…” He gestured between the two of you with his goblet, sloshing a bit of wine onto the floor. “This is something else entirely.”

You glanced between the two brothers, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Aegon was clearly playing it up, but the way Aemond’s usual cool facade had cracked just a bit was… well, more amusing than you cared to admit.

Aemond straightened, his expression darkening as he stared down at Aegon, who was now swaying slightly but still grinning like a mischievous child. “You’re drunk,” Aemond said flatly. “As usual.”

“And yet!” Aegon hiccupped, pointing a finger dramatically in Aemond’s direction. “Even in my drunken stupor, I can see it clear as day! My own brother, pining for my wife! Oh, the betrayal! The scandal!”

You finally let out a laugh, shaking your head as you placed a hand on Aegon’s arm, trying to calm him down. “Aegon, you’re being ridiculous. Aemond isn’t pining for anyone.”

Aemond shot you a brief, grateful glance, though his jaw was still set tight. “Precisely. I have better things to concern myself with.”

But Aegon, in full performance mode now, wasn’t about to let the matter drop. He turned to the crowd of courtiers, raising his goblet high as though addressing the entire realm. “Ladies and gentlemen! My own brother, the fearsome Aemond Targaryen, reduced to a lovesick puppy!” He paused for dramatic effect, his grin widening even more. “Do you think he’s jealous of my charm? My wit? My—”

“Your lack of self-control, perhaps,” Aemond cut in, his voice sharp, though his eye gleamed with a hint of amusement now. It seemed that even he couldn’t entirely resist the absurdity of the situation.

Aegon waved him off, laughing. “Oh, come now, brother! Admit it! You’ve been watching her all night, haven’t you?”

Aemond’s eye flickered toward you again, just for a brief moment, and then back to Aegon. His lips pressed into a thin line, but finally, he let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit.

“I was observing,” he repeated firmly, his voice calmer now. “Not pining.”

Aegon threw his arm around you, pulling you close and grinning like he had just won a great victory. “Ah, well, as long as it’s only observing, I suppose I can forgive you. After all, I’d be staring too if I weren’t already married to the most beautiful woman in the realm.”

You rolled your eyes, patting Aegon’s chest as you tried to gently pull away from his overly enthusiastic embrace. “That’s quite enough, Aegon. Let’s not make a spectacle out of your brother.”

But Aegon, never one to miss an opportunity for a little more drama, held up his goblet in a mock toast. “To my brother, Aemond, the most observant man in the realm! May he continue his not pining for many more years to come!”

Aemond huffed, though a ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he raised his own goblet in a grudging toast. “To Aegon,” he said dryly, “and his complete lack of sense.”

The courtiers, sensing the tension ease, burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join them, shaking your head as Aegon leaned in to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

As the night continued, the tension between the brothers faded into the background, but you couldn’t help but notice that Aemond’s gaze lingered on you just a little longer than before. Whether it was “observing” or something more, well, that was a matter for another night.

[ddarker-dreams]

Easy Does It.

Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Explicit Not SFW, Scaramouche is annoying, Reader’s body is described as AFAB, they both bicker like an old couple... Word count: 7.2k.

You have a triumphant pep in your step as you hop down from the inn’s engawa to where your traveling companion awaits.

He stands beneath a canopy of sakura trees, late in their bloom, yet beautiful nonetheless. Pink petals dance around him in wayward clusters, swaying wherever the breeze blows. It’s an idyllic scene taken straight from the pages of a fairytale. He too appears absorbed with their hypnotizing essence, extending his hand upward and allowing for a lone petal to find its home there. He brings it to his face, studying it closely, an unreadable expression etched onto his countenance when the Electro energy imbued within tickles his fingers.

It could be your imagination, but you get the sense he almost looks sad. Forlorn, even. A strange heaviness haunts the air around him.  

You’re about to call out when a twig crunches beneath your feet, alerting him to your presence.

The ethereal mirage fades away faster than if a painter were to take water to their freshly painted canvas.

“Oh, there you are,” The Wanderer greets, his fingers curling inward and crushing the petal within a tight fist. “You sure took your sweet time. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever get you back. Well? Are you just going to stand there and gawk? How’d the ‘negotiations’ go?”

You puff out your cheeks. To think you almost fell for his spell so easily… that mouth of his could easily break you out of any enchantment. Not that you’d have it any other way.

“Behold, you nonbeliever,” you proudly lift and display the keys you secured, its metal reflecting the blood-orange sun. “I told you I’d work something out. We’ve got shelter for the night.”  

“Oh? Not bad,” he crosses his arms over his chest, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You have some uses after all. Color me surprised.”

“A simple ‘good job’ would have sufficed. Are all your compliments this backhanded?”

“I wouldn’t know, since I give them so rarely.”

You roll your eyes at that and carry onward, striding past him in the process. The Wanderer blinks, following your form with his eyes, then half-jogging to catch up with you. Unsurprisingly, he wastes no time voicing his dissent over your actions.

“Hey, I know your sense of direction isn’t the best, but the inn is that way,” he juts his thumb toward where you came from. You take a deep breath to prepare yourself. You cherished being lavished in his praise, awful as he is at it, for all of thirty seconds. It’s likely that’ll end here if he isn’t in the most forgiving of moods.

“... About that,” your voice comes out uncharacteristically weak, “They didn’t magically get any openings in the hours since we last asked. I offered for us to get rid of some pesky nobushi—”

He lets out a dissatisfied grunt that you choose to ignore.

“—And in return, they’re letting us use an old house that’s traditionally off-limits, since it’s mostly for storage. Hey, don’t look at me like that! The nobushi job can wait until morning. It beats sleeping out in a storm.”

As if on cue, a low rumble of thunder resounds in the distance. The Wanderer just huffs, your line of reasoning is too solid for him to bother arguing further. You both searched high and low for proper accommodations upon learning a nasty thunderstorm was inbound. Normally, it wouldn’t be so difficult, but there was apparently a festival that had inns in the immediate area stuffed. The tempests in Inazuma were notorious for their ferocity.

“So they lug their pest extermination project on us. What a bore,” The Wanderer yawns at the mere thought. “Humans always want to know what’s in it for them. Our Mora should’ve sufficed.”

You don’t bother replying. He likes getting the last word in and you’ll let him this time.

The house the old couple who ran the inn described to you grows closer with each step. It’s not as dilapidated as you pictured from the outside, a rather quaint-looking abode. The design reminds you of the homes found in Konda Village, boasting a thatch ceiling and a light-colored wood exterior. Paper lanterns hang from the veranda, as do white cloths with strings tied around the top, giving the impression of a round head.

You point to the unknown object and voice your curiosity to the Wanderer, who you know hails from Inazuma. “What’s this? I’ve seen them in lots of the villages we’ve passed through.”

“What do I look like, a tour guide?” he mumbles under his breath, yet sees fit to answer you anyway. He always does. “It’s supposedly a talisman meant to invoke good weather, called teru teru bōzu. You’ll find they’re popular in rural areas that rely on farming to get by.”

You let out a small “ohh” at his explanation. “Interesting. I didn’t expect that the denizens of Inazuma would try to ward off phenomena so closely associated with their Archon.”

While saying this, you fit the key snugly into the lock and twist, granting you both entry.  

“Hah. These simpletons would do far better for themselves if they gave that good-for-nothing recluse more pushback.”

While the Wanderer is no stranger to voicing his thoughts, for better or for worse (normally the latter), his animosity toward the Raiden Shogun is unmatched. Anytime she’s so much as mentioned you have to start praying to a higher power that he won’t lay into whatever unlucky soul brought her up. Fortunately for you, his eerily friendly façade doesn’t falter in the moment. He waits until it’s only you around for the venom to spill forth. He certainly has no shortage of it.

“Hurry up inside so we don’t get struck by lightning because of your heresy,” you remove your shoes by the entrance and he follows suit. “From what I can tell, she got plenty of pushback from the Vision Hunt Decree a ways back.”

“Not nearly enough.”

The interior is a bit worse for wear than the exterior, but at least it’s clean. You get to work moving aside furniture and other miscellaneous items so there’ll be enough room to sleep. In the meantime, the Wanderer slides a screen door aside, revealing a bunched-up futon. He takes it outside to pat it off, further continuing your oddly domestic routine. In your few years of traveling together, you’ve come to learn that you synergize together surprisingly well. The Wanderer might complain that you’re a nuisance who he keeps an eye on out of pity, but you know better than to take his words at face value. There are always precious gems hidden beneath the hard exterior.

When he comes back inside, he sprawls the futon down across the tatami floor, then settles his hands on his hips. “What sort of rundown inn is this? There’s only one futon in the closet.”

You situate yourself on a cushion that happened to already be out. “We should be thankful that they even had one since this isn’t a proper rentable room. You can feel free to take it. Sleeping on the floor isn’t so bad.”

“And have to deal with you complaining about how sore you are for the next few days? No thanks,” he scrunches up his nose. “... Wait here. I’ll go have a chat with our hosts and see if I can get some proper hospitality.”

Uh oh. That doesn’t sound promising. “Please don’t get us thrown out, I’d rather not get blown away in an eighty-mile-an-hour wind.”

“I’d fly to get you back,” The Wanderer hums as he makes for the door. Then a mischievous gleam dances in his eyes, a sight you’re plenty familiar with. “Maybe. If I was feeling particularly generous.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He removes his hat, stands it against the wall, then makes for the door. He’s gone faster than you can think to stop him, leaving you temporarily on your lonesome. The many compliments he received for his well-mannered behavior when you passed through Konda Village come to mind, a memory that makes you snort. You suppose you can’t blame them for falling for his act. He could be rather convincing when he set his heart on something. So could you, for that matter. Hence why you ended up becoming an unlikely pair to begin with.

Standing to your full height, you begin shedding your outer layer of clothes. The trek back to the inn combined with the owner’s talkative nature should ensure he’ll be gone for a while. Once you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, you fold and set your clothes aside, ambling toward a plain yukata you saw hanging up in the closet. You put both your arms through the long sleeves and then stop, your fingers resting over the Electro Vision clasped like a necklace around your neck.

Inazuma, land of the Electro Archon, a place the Wanderer seemed intimately connected with. It strikes you then how little you know about your companion. You’ve told him plenty about yourself — the delicious wines, tall windmills, and sea of dandelions found in your homeland — hoping it’d get him to do the same. He’d dodge your inquiries with ease, stating that he was ‘just a wanderer these days’ and nothing else.

You know that can’t be it. Especially not with his tendency to refer to people as ‘humans’, inadvertently implying he isn’t one himself. So just who is he? What is he?

Why does he still seem keen to travel with you, when he could make it perfectly fine by himself?

And most importantly… when will this fun adventure you never expected to take come to an end? After all, that is the fate of all journeys. Nothing lasts forever.

For some reason or another, the thought fills you with an uncomfortable pang.

You begin carrying out the steps of properly securing the yukata. It’s an awkward endeavor, as you’re not used to it, but you start to make some decent progress. That is until your soul all but ascends when the door unceremoniously flings open.

“Seriously, the gall of them to lock up so ear—”

The door slams closed as the Wanderer doesn’t have the presence of mind to ease it shut. “—Ly…?”

His eyes go as wide as saucers while the most you can think to do is turn around, rushing through the final steps to regain your dignity. He wasn’t supposed to come back so soon! This shouldn’t be a big deal, it really shouldn’t, yet the expression he wore was unlike anything you’ve seen. The Wanderer is always so sure of himself, bordering and often crossing over into arrogance. It didn’t matter if you were lost in the middle of nowhere with low provisions or stuck in a battle against waves of monsters seemingly without an end in sight. He’d act with the utmost confidence, dissipating your uncertainty like a lighthouse’s beam on a foggy night.

So what was that look he gave you, an emotion on him you’ve never seen before? It’s making you feel warm from head to toe.

“... You’re… you’re doing it wrong.”

The Wanderer is standing in your shadow, closing what already feels like the nonexistent distance between you. You cease moving entirely when his hands reach around to tug at the loose fabric. He folds and tucks everything into place as it should be, no sounds registering in your brain aside from the shuffling of fabric and your pounding heartbeat. Internally, you beg yourself to say something, or for him to say something, the flow of your usual banter entirely staunched. In a matter of a few seconds that feel like they’re dragging on for an eternity, the yukata is set into place as it should be. Just when you think you’re free from this embarrassing nightmare’s tendrils, he sets his sights on the final piece.

He wraps the obi around your waist and ties it. When he’s done, he takes a step back and finally breaks the excruciating silence.

“Turn around.”

You try to think of a snarky rebuttal that’d diffuse the peculiar heaviness in the air, as if gravity itself had intensified. Upon coming up with nothing, you acquiesce to his softly spoken demand, your eyes set firmly on the ground. Is this real life or a very potent figment of your imagination? You’ve never felt so sheepish around him; in a mere second, your entire dynamic shifted.

“Is the floor really that interesting?” His face is close enough that you can feel his warm breath tickling your skin when he laughs. The sound is different from his usual derisive chuckle. Freer, in a way. “Look up at me already.”

Somehow, this request seems easier to fulfill than his previous one. You find yourself lifting your head without your mind deciding if that’s what it wants to do yet, your body and impulses taking the reins. The Wanderer must not have been expecting your willingness either — his breath hitches in his throat when you make unwavering eye contact. It’s in the peaceful seconds of nothingness that follow that you find yourself admiring your companion’s features.

He’s beautiful to a surreal degree. If he told you he was handmade by the gods, you would’ve believed him without question. His skin is like porcelain, his eyes wide and glossy, framed by long, dark eyelashes, his lips rosy and his cheeks even rosier. For all his impish attributes, his visage is far more in line with that of a cherub. You don’t bother hiding your unabashed staring. He told you to look at him and you’re going to do just that.

Whatever devious words he had waiting for you on his tongue must’ve withered away without ever blooming.

Logically speaking, it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds that ticked by since he last spoke, but you feel like you’ve shared an eternity together. If you weren’t used to seeing him surprised, his current expression is all the more foreign. It was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit. You scour your memory, analyzing the countless impressions he’s made, placing the countenance you’re currently seeing over them to find a match.

Eventually, something in your frazzled brain clicks.

This isn’t a new expression at all. You know it better than you’d like to admit.

This is how he looks at you when you eagerly compliment his cooking, scoffing and muttering under his breath that it isn’t anything to get so excited about, while fighting back a smile. When you rope him into playing with the kids of whatever family is feeling kind enough to give you lodging for the night, a thousand excuses on his tongue that he never follows through on after seeing how you laugh and run without a care. This is how he looks at you in the morning, afternoon, evening, twilight, and night.

Now that you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t remember a time when he didn’t look at you this way.

With yearning…

(He’s leaning forward).

Adoration…

(His lips are almost close enough to touch yours).

… And rapidly spiraling self-control.

“Wanderer?”

There’s a flash of lightning outside, a prelude to the storm ahead.

Bright streaks of light illuminate the side of his countenance. The instant the lightning’s glow fades, you’re face to face with his back. He’s walking away. A torrent batters the worn-down windows in a violent clash of water and glass. Where is he going? He picks his ornate hat up and places it on his head. Why is he going? Shaky fingers rise to press against your lip.

You never got to feel his.

He doesn’t get the chance to twist the doorknob before you’re leaping into action, more adrenaline pumping through your veins than any fight could ever evoke. He stumbles forward from the force of your bodies clashing yet manages to remain standing. Your arms encircle his waist, pulling him back to you, not an ounce of your strength going unused. Initially, his body goes stiff as a corpse. And then he struggles. Sharply twisting his torso to deter your hold, which successfully puts your footing off balance, but doesn’t get you to retract. He tries it again. This time with more force. You shake your head, adamant and unwilling, embracing him even tighter.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, disbelief apparent. Instead of coming off like a predator that’s bearing its teeth, you view him as prey caught in a trap that wildly thrashes when being set free.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” you return, your voice almost threatening to crack beneath the weight of your words. Having piqued his curiosity, he ceases movement altogether. You lower your volume to a solemn whisper. “You were about to… about to kiss me.”

“No, I—” he cuts himself off, the words coming out in an almost incomprehensible jumble, “I was just messing around. You’re so… so easy to fool, you know that? So gullible. You don’t know the first thing about me and yet you’re willing to let me touch you like a lover. It’s almost pathetic, really.”

The words meant to add fuel to the fire blazing in your soul do the opposite and extinguish it instead. You loosen your grip enough that he could easily break free if he tried.

He doesn’t.

“You’re wrong about that.”

“What?” He sounds incredulous more so than angry. However he anticipated this to go down in his head, you wouldn’t follow the script, if anything, you’d be handed it only so you may shred it to pieces. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I do,” your affirmation comes out quickly, though far from uncertain. “You said I don’t know the first thing about you, but that’s a lie. I know plenty. I know that you’re pretty terrible.”

The Wanderer lets out a noise you can only describe as a choked, humorless laugh, but since you’re not finished, you continue on.

“Yeah, you’re awful alright. You act like you’re better than everyone else before you get the chance to even know them. You refuse to acknowledge the good in the world when it’s dangling right in front of your eyes, so focused on the backdrop that you miss what’s really important. You’re conceited, insensitive, and stubborn to a fault. But…”

Although he can’t see you in this position, you smile. “You’re willing to acknowledge your shortcomings after enough convincing. You’ll point out mine too. You see through things that I’m blind to, standing up for me when I’m afraid to do it myself. You tell me I talk too much yet still listen and remember every word. If I get sick, you take care of me until I’m better, even if you complain the entire time. You’ll push me out of the way in a fight, taking a blow meant for me, then swear it doesn’t hurt so I won't worry. It does hurt, though, doesn’t it? You feel pain the same way I do. Just because you’re used to it doesn't make it hurt any less. Yes… you’re right that there are some things I don’t know about you. But I know enough to say I love you, awfulness and all.”

“... Love?” He’s breathless. “You love me?”

“Somehow or another, so— oof!”

In an instant, your positions switch. The first thing you register is your back hitting something solid. Both your arms have been lifted and pinned over your head by him. When you reopen your eyes to gain your bearings, you’re treated to a sight you don’t think you’ll ever forget. The Wanderer is almost feverish, his face flushed, his lips parted so he may pant, his chest heaving for air. His dilated pupils look nowhere else than directly at you. The heavens could collapse and the Abyss could rise and still, he would not look away. It’s raw, it’s depraved, but it’s him.

“You mean it? You really mean it?”

You try to wriggle your hand free, longing to touch him, but he narrows his eyes and tightens his grip. The strength he uses further convinces you that had he genuinely wanted to, he could’ve easily rid himself of you earlier. Words escape you entirely beneath the intensity of his stare. Your legs feel weak and it’s like the air had been stolen entirely from your lungs. There’s no way he didn’t hear everything you painstakingly laid out for him. You let him glimpse into your heart, what was all this apprehension about?

The wetness growing on his lower lash line makes you understand, deep down. It’s not that he doesn’t want to believe you — it’s that he’s scared of what it’ll mean if he does.

You’re the one who closes the pesky distance. The contact is gentle, chaste, a hesitant brushing of your lips against his. You let them linger there for a few seconds longer, feeling how his lower lip trembles, tasting the bitterness of the matcha he drank not too long ago. When you think to pull back, his body lurches forward, unwilling to let you get away that easily. He’s noticeably inexperienced, somewhat awkward in how he slots his mouth against yours. Still, it sets fireworks off in your chest and makes you croon. He’s so distracted with helping himself to your lips that he relaxes his grip. You use this to your advantage, finally free to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer.

When you part for some much-needed air, he encases your face in his hands.

“Say it again,” his lips ghost over yours when he speaks. “Please. I need you to say it again.”

How could you ever deny him when he’s talking to you like that?

“I love you.”

“Even though I’m ‘pretty terrible’?”

“Even then.”

“Won’t you change your mind?”

“I won’t.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise,” you smile, unable to stop yourself from beaming. Floating midair wouldn’t make you feel as light as you do now. “And what about you, Wanderer? Did I successfully win over your heart?”

There’s an enigmatic gleam in his eyes that you don’t quite understand. “Yeah. Although I wouldn’t say it’s anything worth winning. Whatever joke of a heart I’ve got, you can have it. It’s yours. You can’t get rid of it even if you want to. Or, to be more accurate…”

You gasp when he nibbles the shell of your ear then whispers, his voice low, “You can’t get rid of me even if you want to.”

If this is his attempt at intimidation, you aren’t impressed.

“It’s a good thing I don’t want to then, right?”

“That’s my [First] for you,” he brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face and laughs. “Only you could find a positive way to spin that. Well, perhaps that strangeness is what draws me to you. You might be just as messed up in the head as I am.”

He swoops in to kiss you again but is met with the softness of your cheek instead of your lips. His eyes widen, then narrow, dark energy gathering and permeating around his figure. You almost think better of your decision to mess around with him but ultimately remain firm. He can’t always get what he wants without having to put in some work. You’ll end up spoiling him if you act too indulgent.

“I think you may have ruined the romantic atmosphere,” you add some dramatic flair by sighing. He blinks rapidly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. It’s a cute look on him. “I poured my heart out to you and not only do you call me strange, you say I’m messed up as well. I dunno, my feelings might be too hurt. Maybe I should just go to bed…”

He actually gapes at you, sputtering, incapable of forming an intelligent rebuttal at your sheer audacity. You press your advantage and writhe out from his hold. You don’t make it more than a single step toward the futon before you’re being hoisted into the air, the Wanderer recovering from his stupor in record time. He bridal carries you over, muttering how you’re “such a difficult woman”, the gentle way he lays you down contrasting his harsh words.

He crawls over top of you, the grin on his face a mix between boyish and menacing. His next words come out in a playful singsong. “Oh no you don’t, little minx.”

It’s almost impossible to fight back a smile, but you somehow manage, though you have no doubt he sees through your weak façade. With about as much innocence as you can muster, you say, “If you’re tired too, we could always sleep together.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, the innuendo not lost on him. “Your jokes suck.”

“Hah, but you laugh at them anyway,” you stick your tongue out at him. “So which one of us truly sucks here?”

“You, on your knees, another time maybe,” he replies, a little too self-assured for your liking. “Not tonight though. I have other plans for you.”

He accentuates this by latching his lips to your neck, directly over where your racing pulse is most prominent. You tilt your head to the side, allowing him easier access, your senses so overwhelmed with him that nothing else registers. His hands to get work undoing what he helped put on you minutes prior. Cool night air bites at your newly exposed skin, the front of the yukata fluttering to the side. He pulls back from his task of lavishing your neck in heated open-mouthed kisses to admire the sight. It’s almost animalistic, the way he’s regarding you now, as if you were a feast put in front of a starved man. The intensity of his gaze almost makes you shy.

“... May I?” He murmurs, his previous bravado melting away. His face is red up to his ears. “Is it really okay?”

Unable to find your voice, you nod your head, almost biting your lower lip hard enough to bruise. Why is it far easier to deal with him when he’s being a cocky little bastard? When he talks so uncharacteristically sweet… gazes at you reverently with those big, doe-like eyes… you simply don’t know what to do with yourself. He’s making you go crazy.

When you work up the courage to look at him again, you swear your heart almost stops. Both your eyes meet in a silent exchange of adoration. You hadn’t realized it earlier, but in this spot where the silvery moonlight shines through in gratuitous amounts, you notice a damning detail. There are tear streaks on his cheeks. Without giving the action much thought, you raise your hand to cup his face. His wet eyelashes flutter shut and he leans into your touch. The pad of your thumb grazes over his cheekbone, gently wiping away what you can. Eventually, he reopens his eyes, and when he does, you adjust yourself so that you may unclasp your bra. The undergarment is thrown haphazardly to an unknown destination.

Both his hands raise, his fingers twitching while they descend to caress your chest.

“Soft…” he whispers, his eyes glowing an otherworldly hue, “So soft.”

Whether he meant to or not, you’ll never know, but his thumbs brush over your nipples just right and you let out a whimper. He freezes in place, his attention going from the flesh in his palms back up to your face. Upon confirming you did indeed release such a debauched sound, he dips his head, his lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking. His eagerness to help himself to your body causes wetness to stain your panties. He lets out a content noise when you thread your fingers through his hair, bringing him in closer. His free hand goes from groping greedily at your chest to traveling downward. It brushes over your lower stomach, then settles itself on the side of your hips.

You let out a huff at the lack of friction where you want it most. Something tells you he would be content to do this for hours, and while that’s a lovely sentiment, it’s akin to torture when you want so much more.

Your hand guides his to where you want it most — right between your thighs.

He pulls back with an audible pop, his lips shiny with saliva. “Oh? Aren’t you a bold little thing. I was in the middle of doing something. You’re just begging to be punished, aren’t you?”

The Wanderer probably expects you to respond with equal brattiness — and maybe you would’ve if your body would stop screaming and let you think for a second — but you don’t. You surprise both him and yourself by whispering in a voice dripped in sin, “Please.”

He swallows thickly. You can feel his arousal twitch to life, hard and hot against your legs. Slowly, so that he may continue savoring your expression, he pulls back until he’s nestled between your legs. He places a chaste kiss against your inner thigh. Then your panties’ hemline. Finally, he presses his lips against your clothed cunt, the slight pressure from his slow, open-mouthed kiss driving you mad with want. You try bucking your hips forward, an act that earns you swift retaliation. His hands hold your hips in place tight. He gives you a warning squeeze, one that communicates he’s working on his time, not yours.

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises, his lips cruelly departing from your clothed cunt to your inner thigh, where he alternates between nibbling and kissing your feverish flesh, “Try anything like that again and I’ll show you how mean I really can be. You think you know, but trust me, you don’t, since I’m actually quite sweet on you…”

His fingers hook around your panties and pull them down. “I know you’re beyond desperate for me, but let’s try to have a little decorum, okay? Or has your lust made you incapable of feeling shame?”

“I liked your mouth better when it was busy,” your comeback would’ve sounded a lot stronger if it didn’t come out like a whine.

“You just always have something to say, don’t you?” He sounds amused more than anything. You never get the chance to respond, for he places his middle and pointer finger against your pussy, applying the most pressure yet. It’s divine if not the furthest thing from enough. “Let’s see if I can change that.”

The Wanderer feels at you, curious, dragging his fingers up and down while studying your various expressions. When he sees something he likes, he focuses the majority of his attention to the spot that caused such a visceral reaction. Through the hot waves of pleasure sinking you into a delightful abyss, you realize he’s found your clit. Not long after discovering the best place to touch you, he replaces his fingers with his lips, pulling you flush against his face. You throw your head back as he devours you, what he lacks in skill is more than made up for by his enthusiasm. You spread your legs further for him, wanting anything he’s willing to offer from the bottom of your soul.

The muscles in your thighs go tense as your release steadily approaches. You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with another, having been on the road for so long. The most you could ever do to appease any carnal need that reared its head was wait until the Wanderer was sound asleep, giving you the chance to relieve yourself. He never left your side long enough to any other time. Or to find any partner you could mess around with. Any flirtatious remarks sent your way ended with the offender cowering from a brutal verbal lashing. Maybe getting launched through a window by a ‘gust of wind’ if they were bold enough to touch you.

No, the man currently eating you out as if his life depended on it was fiercely protective. Now you know why. He wanted you for himself.

When you come, you let out a high-pitched noise, your head lolled to the side and your fingernails digging marks into your palms. This doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He continues lapping and suckling your oversensitive clit, drunk on the sounds he could make you produce. You finally get him to detach yourself from your person using a burst of strength. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, a wicked smirk full display.

You smooth out his tousled indigo locks. “Thank you. That felt really good.”

“I should be the one thanking you for the delectable meal,” he runs his tongue over his lips, further savoring your taste. It’s a miracle you have any semblance of coherent thought after witnessing such an obscene display. “My appetite is far from satiated, though.”

To your great pleasure, he begins removing the layers of clothes that make up his normal outfit. The fast rate at which he does so belies his inner excitement. The golden rings on his middle fingers go first, then his black gloves, and outer white and turquoise tunic. The almost sheer, sleeveless black shirt he wears beneath clings tight to his lean torso. He makes quick work of his belt and shorts, shooting you a bemused look over his shoulder when he catches your eyes.

“Did no one ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“I can’t help it,” comes your rebuttal. “You’re so beautiful.”

His head snaps away and he clears his throat. “S-Surely you can do better than that. I suppose I can accept such uninspired praise for now.”

You raise yourself to a sitting position and settle yourself behind him, your bare chest pressing against his back. It doesn’t take him long to relax in this unexpected embrace. Being this close to him, you’re given the unique opportunity to notice intricacies you couldn’t otherwise. On the nape of his neck is the symbol that represents Electro, its shape the exact same as the one found on your Vision. Your Wanderer certainly is a bundle of mysteries, isn’t he? His muscles go tense when you press a kiss against the spot. You then nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, the earthy scent of kyara wood sticking to his skin.

“You’re not going to say anything about it?”

“Hm? About what?”

“You know what I mean,” his words lack any real bite. “I know you saw it.”

You close your eyes, arriving at an answer surprisingly fast. “I’m sure you’ll tell me about it when you’re ready.”

As if silently voicing his agreement, he twists around, bringing you into a soft liplock. He coaxes you into laying back down. You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with any loose strands of hair you feel. Upon opening your eyes, you’re blessed with the sight of a simple smile from the man above you. There’s no underlying haughtiness or malice, just pure, unadulterated devotion. For you and you alone. Something hard brushes against your entrance, causing you to gasp. He chuckles, swooping down to steal another kiss before whispering in your ear,

“Ready?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

The head of his cock presses against your lower lips. He rubs himself against you teasingly, coating himself in your essence for more lubrication. Slowly, he sinks himself inside you, the fingers on your hips trembling from the unusual sensation. You do your best to relax your breathing and body to better take him in. He enters inch by inch, the drag of his length against your inner walls a touch uncomfortable if not incredibly fulfilling. You’re unable to focus on your body getting used to the feeling when he’s panting by your ear, soft moans falling out in abundance.

“Fuck,” he hisses through grinding teeth, “That’s good.”

He goes still when he bottoms out inside you. Slowly yet surely, the dull ache from the stretch fades. The room is filled with the sound of both your labored breathing and rain hitting the fogged-up window panes. You drink in one another’s presence. The world itself could come to an end, and still, you’d be content. Having fully adjusted, you feel bold enough to bring him impossibly closer by locking your legs around his waist. He grunts, his eyes wide-blown.

“You can move now. Hm… or should I take the lead?” You ask teasingly.

The skin beneath his eyes tightens when he grins. “Hah. I’d like to see you try.”

“I’ll hold you to tha— mm…”

He pulls himself out of you to the tip and then plunges back in, causing you to throw your head back. He’s big and of decent girth but without being too much to handle. Your low, heavy moan causes his cock to twitch inside you. There must be nothing he enjoys more than the sounds you make. He commits himself to taking you at a moderate pace, his hands on your hips bringing you down to meet his thrusts. His lips are on yours again, this kiss being the messiest yet, a clash of tongue and teeth. He shoves his tongue into your mouth and allows you to taste yourself. It's greedy, it's unrefined, and most importantly, it’s everything you want.

A thin bridge of saliva connects your lips when he parts, his eyes narrow with glee. “You love me. You really— ah— love me…!”

The Wanderer buries his face in the crook of your neck, his pace growing faster. You rub circles into your clit, another release right on the horizon from his previous actions. He’s doing what he can to keep his volume down, and yet you’re still treated to a lovely melody of pants and moans. There is no song that could ever compare. He might not be whispering sweet nothings into your ear, but this is infinitely better. Watching him get drunk and lose himself in pleasure when he’s normally so composed is a privilege exclusive to you.

“I’m close,” you whimper, every inch of your existence engulfed with heat, “So close.”

“Go on then. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Each sensual roll of his hips brings you higher and higher. He devotes himself to your ecstasy, fucking you with more strength than you expected him to use. It’s all too much. His cock massaging your insides, his tenor voice letting out the most unholy voices near your ear, the frenzied stimulation of your clit that lost its rhythm ages ago. You arch your back, your walls squeezing and fluttering as you cry out. He presses his forehead against yours while you lose yourself beneath him.

“There we go, just like that,” he coos. “That made for quite a sight. You really were made for me. Or maybe…”

After a moment’s contemplation, he voices a thought tinged with indecipherable emotion. “Maybe I was made for you.”

From his increasingly erratic thrusts, you can guess that he’s getting close as well. His vice-like grip on your hips is sure to leave bruises for the days that follow. The sound of skin on skin carries throughout the small space while the scent of sweat and sex permeates the air. Through the haze clouding your mind, you swear to yourself that you’ll always remember this. You want this special moment shared between you both inked into your subconscious. His alluring scent, his frantic touch, his bittersweet taste and little moans.

When he comes, he forces your hips down to meet his stuttering thrusts. Warmth seeps into your insides. He doesn’t stop there, he fucks his release deeper into you, your name rolling off his tongue with all the piety of a devotee worshipping their god. He goes soft inside you yet doesn’t pull out, seemingly content to stay put while he catches his breath. Absent-mindedly, you rub circles into his shoulder blades, encouraging him to relax. He ends up relaxing a little too much, collapsing on top of you and resting his head on your chest. His arms go around your shoulders and pull you flush against him. It would appear even a mere inch separating you both is unforgivable in his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Mm.”

“You’re heavy.”

“Not my problem.”

“Get off already.”

“Don’t wanna.”

His world-renowned brattiness has made a triumphant return. You try propping yourself up by your elbows, only to be met with him nuzzling himself into you further. You tumble gracelessly back onto the ground. How can he be annoying yet so endearing at the same time? He’s a walking set of contradictions. Due to the physical inactivity, the night’s frigid air starts to have more bite to it. Shivers and goosebumps erupt over your body.

“At least let me get dressed,” you huff, rolling your eyes at the petty way he tightens his grip around you. “Know that if I get sick, it’s all your fault. I’ll be making you wait on me hand and foot.”

“Fine. Be quick about it, irksome woman. I was enjoying myself.”

The Wanderer reluctantly rolls off to the side. His member slides out of you, leaving you feeling empty in its absence. Before you can start moving, he takes two fingers and pushes any cum that’s trickled out back in. Then he slides your panties back up to keep it in place. You give him a questioning look, to which he smirks, pressing another kiss to the inside of your thighs and then sitting up.

“There’ll always be a part of me inside of you now,” he explains, visibly satisfied at the thought.

What a weirdo. You decide to keep that to yourself. “Could you help me with the yukata again, please?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he pretends to ponder, a hand on his chin. “I think I prefer it when you look like this. Besides, I still need to get revenge for how you so brazenly insulted me earlier. What was it again? I’m ‘conceited, insensitive, and stubborn to a fault’, right? Sorry, it doesn’t seem like I’m the type of person to help others in need.”

“What if someone looks in the window and sees me?”

A malignant shadow falls over his face.

“I’d tear them to pieces.”

“... Isn’t that overkill?”

“I sure don’t think so,” he twirls his finger in the air. “Now turn around before I change my mind."

Similar to earlier, he helps you into the yukata, though the atmosphere is far more pleasant. He’s humming a tune to himself as he ensures everything is in order. After he’s content with his handiwork, he pulls you down onto the futon, clinging to you from behind. A shower sounds heavenly right about now, but you’re doubtful he’s going to let you out of his sight tonight. If you’re being entirely honest with yourself, you don’t really mind.

Exhaustion hits you like a ton of bricks. This is made worse by the comfortable blankets he pulls over you both. Your eyelids flutter shut, the siren’s song of sleep luring you in. His soft breath tickles the back of your neck and makes you smile.

“Hey, [First], are you awake?”

“I think so.”

“Good, 'cause you need to hear this,” he inhales sharply, his next words coming out as a whisper. “I… I love you too.”

“Let’s stay by one another’s side then.”

“... Always?”

“Always.”

When the puppet falls asleep that night, he sheds tears in his dreams, though this time it is not from sorrow, but overabounding joy.

[cloud-acee]

[ breakfast bunch ]

office crush to lovers. wotakoi inspired. wc: 2757

the city was bustling with busy as per a usual weekday. heels clacked and leather shoes hurried on the sidewalks, navigating their way to work. that wasn’t the case for you. today was a day off work because of some event in another department that did not concern yours and sunwoo’s, allowing a day of rest.

it was past 9 am and you have just woken up feeling quite a bit mislaid, not knowing what to do. usually around this time you’d be in front of your computer, typing away your work reports while taking bites out of the breakfast sandwich sunwoo always got you.

not having the energy to figure out what to spend today for, you mindlessly scrolled through tiktok curled up in your bed until a message dinged your phone.

nunu: morning

nunu: u up?

two messages sent after the other popped into your screen and you immediately clicked on it, not quite eager, but excited to know whatever sunwoo has planned for the day just so you could join in. hence, you responded and exchanged messages after so.

y/n: yea why

nunu: bfast?

y/n: let usssss

y/n: but where?

nunu: hb that sandwich place where i buy our usual?

y/n: oooh bet i’ve always wanted to try dining there

nunu: aightt, you know my place just message me when ure near so i can wait by the bus stop

y/n: got it 🤝

y/n: i’ll get ready now bye bye

nunu: you be careful, see u !!

acknowledging his last message with a heart reaction, you locked and threw your phone to the bed as you stood up to get ready, your face planted with an unconscious smile. you didn’t really know if you were happy with the idea that you won’t be couch potatoing for the day, or because you get to see sunwoo.

he’s part of your everyday now, not only on work days but even on weekends where you usually meet out to eat and hang, having been alone in each of your apartments. the friendly company of each other brought you both comfort. at work you got to play adults, but outside work you both get to act like teenagers with your endless playful bickering, midnight ice cream runs, and tv marathons whether it's an anime or movies or series. you loved being with sunwoo.

not further delaying your movements, you hopped into the shower preparing for whatever is to come today.

sunwoo, on the other hand, was all dressed already. he opted to message you after he's ready to go out just to avoid the possibility of you arriving in the meeting place earlier than him, not that it was a chance at all, but he wanted to make sure anyway just so he knows you wouldn't be waiting all alone. he meant to ask you to breakfast last night but argued within himself, not wanting to appear too clingy. sunwoo has always been careful about how you might see him. he wanted to be around you, but not always, not too pushy to scare you away. he didn't want to be too obvious, especially not when he's had some feelings he himself is yet to confront.

he saw you as a colleague at first, he respected you as a workmate. sunwoo saw your brilliance and wit, and he found you admirable. he didn't even notice when he started to feel.. things, he thought for sometime he just saw the good things in you, not realizing it's past mere compliments about you that he kept himself. the man was falling, oh he fell quicker than he could keep track of his feelings.

but he would never admit them. not even to himself, perhaps to sunwoo, acknowleding the heart is followed by rejection. and he enjoyed being with you too much to waste the bond, so he settles with your friendship. not that he was complaining, if anything, he was grateful to even be close to you, and much happier that you two were the closest among your workmates. sunwoo was contented but he'd be lying if he says he wouldn't want anything more.

the walk down the bus stop didn't take long enough for the thoughts that preoccupied his head. anyway, sunwoo already got to the meeting place just before you messaged to tell him you were around 5 minutes away.

basking in the morning air, sunwoo was glad the traffic had died down, allowing him to enjoy watching the vehicles that drove by. each one of them dropping and picking up new passengers, until it was you coming out of the bus.

sunwoo stood up with a small smile as soon as he saw you and you shoot him a smile back as you observed his clothing, he was dressed in a hoodie and jeans, just as you expected.

"do you even wash that hoodie? didn't you wear that last week?" you asked teasingly as soon as you were in front of him. the small smile on his face that welcomed you fell into a playful annoyed face, “at least i wash my hair everyday.”

he likes teasing like this, “hey, you’re not supposed to wash your hair everyday because it’s going to keep the natural oil and stuff,” you huffed as you followed him walking. “so you’re supposed to stink?” he joked even more.

“no i do not stink!” you said loudly laughing in between. “you have got to stop believing everything you see on tiktok,” sunwoo exclaimed laughing along with you.

the teasing and the tiktok banter kept going until you were a crossroad away from the small sandwich shop marked with a logo familiar to you.

as soon as you entered the sandwich shop, you heard the old lady stood behind the counter chirp a greeting to the man who held the door before you, “oh sunwoo, good morning!”

sunwoo kept his hand on the door as you took your steps but his eyes immediately went to the old lady, greeting back to her with another “good morning” paired with a gentle smile.

she had went back to cutting the ingredients as you walked towards the counter with sunwoo, checking on the menu. you observed the store and it felt like a subway but homey, maybe because of the seats and tables that are not too fancy but neat and pretty in color. seeing the freshly cut vegetables reminded you of your hunger and the smell of the sizzling meat didn’t help either. you continued scanning the menu when a conversation between the two started.

“are you getting your usual?” asked the lady as she looked at sunwoo. “yes but i’ll be dining here this time, you don’t need to rush preparing it,” sunwoo answered in a chuckle. apparently, sunwoo’s habit was no different to yours, always rushing in the morning.

the lady took note of sunwoo’s additional coffee order before turning her head towards you, “how about your order, dear?” she was sweet. you felt no pressure choosing a sandwich for breakfast but you didn’t feel adventurous today so you went with the order sunwoo always brought you.

“i’ll just have the regular sandwich with mayo, onions, and cheese, but without the pickles and tomato please,” you answered politely as you pulled your wallet out of your bag to prepare payment. just before you looked back up at the lady, you added, “i’ll also have the same coffee sunwoo’s having.”

this time you looked at her and she had this quizzed look on her face, as if solving a math equation stamped on your face. you only looked at her with both your eyebrows raised, mirroring the same look of confusion as you wait for a response.

“oh it’s her!” she exclaimed with her face lit up. you couldn’t understand what she meant but sunwoo seemed to get it when his eyes squinted then grew bigger as soon as the thought registered. “you’re sunwoo’s girlfriend aren’t you!? the one he always buys this breakfast sandwich for!” the lady said excitedly, wrinkling the corners of her eyes.

sunwoo looked as speechless as you did, perhaps you were as red as each other too.

the lady smiled so big you didn’t have it in you to burst her bubble, so you just pulled your lips in a warm smile as you bobbed your head slightly. “he always did get me my breakfast sandwich,” you responded as an agreement to the sandwich part, glossing over the girlfriend bit.

“what a sweetheart you have here, kindness in love goes a long way!” she said with the same level of excitement as she turned to sunwoo and talking once more, “and you have got a girl so pretty! how did a clumsy sunwoo score such a lady!?”

sunwoo only laughed in embarrassment as he scratched the back of his head. the mood was lighter and you laughed with him too. he didn’t look at you but he played along ignoring the statement that made him blush, instead clearing his throat before speaking to you, “you can take a sit now i’ll take care of it.”

not wanting to protest, you only nodded your head and smiled once more at the lady before pulling yourself out of the counter. you chose a table just next to the window and settled your bag on it, with sunwoo following not so long after.

he slipped into the chair opposite to yours quietly but spoke eventually, “i’m sorry about that,” he chuckled awkwardly. “i knew her since i moved here for work and she suspected the extra sandwich i was buying with my usual order was for a girl,” sunwoo laughed at the memory.

rushing through the streets, sunwoo held his leather bag in his left hand before he got to the front of the sandwich shop near the corner of his apartment, pushing the door with his right hand. the old lady recognized him, he’s been a regular since around three months ago— right when he moved to the area.

just as sunwoo approached the counter, the lady beat her to it and asked, “your usual in 5 minutes?”

he laughed lightly answering, “yes, please. but with the regular sandwich too minus the pickles and tomato.” he says as he pulls some cash out of his wallet. this was when the lady noticed it, of the three months sunwoo’s been a regular, the last three weeks of his order included an extra sandwich on some days.

she couldn’t stop her tongue when she asked, “so your girlfriend doesn’t like pickles and tomatoes?” sunwoo was quite shocked, but he liked what he heard.

you were both new to the company but you came a bit later, resulting in the two of you working on some stuff together and sticking together during lunch breaks, having not much friends from the older employees. sunwoo found you so easy to be with. and quite frankly, you could say the same. you talked about a lot of things, especially anime. but besides your similar interests, sunwoo also learned about the absence of breakfast in your daily routine having such a shit sleep schedule that you wake up late and miss the time to prepare or buy anything to eat most days, if not every single day.

so one morning when he was getting his sandwich, he decides to buy two to give you the other one. he ‘accidentally’ ordered two so you got to eat it now because one was enough for him and it would’ve gotten stale if he keeps it for lunch. you do anyway, but you fish out the pickles and tomatoes before doing so. sunwoo mentally took note of the abandoned bits of vegetables and ordered one without them the following day.

you didn’t really think much of it then, just glad sunwoo was generous enough to share his food with you. sunwoo, on the other hand, was relieved. he wouldn’t really know how to explain if you ask him why he gets you breakfast.

claiming the paperbag containing the sandwiches, sunwoo thanked the old lady for always getting them done in 5 minutes. “oh don’t worry there’s not much customers anyway. you go now, you lovebirds have a nice day,” she grinned warmly.

it has become his routine since then, the lady’s too, that he had completely forgotten about the assumption she made months ago.

you intently watched sunwoo as he spoke of the memory so fondly. “i would’ve warned you about it but it slipped my mind, i didn’t really explain anything to her and just let her think of it like that, i’m so sorry,” he finished.

“no, no problem at all, it’s fine!” you answered wavering your hand in quite a panic, not wanting to make sunwoo feel bad.

you really didn’t want to sadden that lady with the information that you two, in fact, were not dating. but admittedly, being called that made your heart flutter. oh, who were you kidding? anything sunwoo did— anything related to sunwoo, made your heart flutter.

the lady was right, he was such a sweetheart. always so mindful when he was teaching you about the work stuff he learned about some months earlier than you, accompanying you to non-work events (who knew sunwoo would join you to a sticker convention), sending you tiktok edits of your favorite movies, looking after sickly you in your apartment, making sure he's got an extra hair tie in case you lose yours— the list could go on but it’s that sandwich that you look forward to most days.

upon having this surge of realization, you felt your cheeks heat up as you spoke shyly, “i mean, it wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

sunwoo only looked at you surprisingly with his eyes looking even bigger than they already do, but he also looked confused as his brows raised and furrowed quickly as if he was figuring a puzzle out. his head jumbled with words to form whatever question was meant to be asked in a situation as such, which he had never been in. did you mean what you said? did it mean you felt the same way he did?

his brain was racked with so much thoughts that before he got to ask what you meant, the old lady had already dinged the bell, calling for sunwoo’s name instead of his order number. blinking away the moment, "hold on," sunwoo said as he quickly stood from his seat quite wobbly before approaching the counter.

you would’ve laughed at his clumsiness but you had to mentally scold yourself first, what did you just say? were you even ready for this? well, you’ll never be ready to face something this big anyway, not something as big as your feelings that caught you in those moments with sunwoo you wished would last a bit— a lot, longer. they crept up the very first time sunwoo bursted out laughing at a joke you made, it was this warmth that spread across your chest that made you realize that besides seeing him happy, you also liked making him happy.

oh this isn’t good. what a waste of friendship would it be if sunwoo found your feelings ridiculous, you would much rather choke to death instead of being rejected and having your friendship ruined.

maybe you’re over reacting, but what’s a girl got to do when she accidentally confesses?

you were so into your own thoughts that you didn’t realize sunwoo was slowing his walking still trying to absrob what you said. did you mean, it wouldn’t be.. so bad.. being his? sunwoo has always been gentle with you when talking about things in a serious light, but he didn’t find this time a good time to be slow, maybe he should just go for it?

you felt like you held your breathe until sunwoo came back, carefully placing your coffee and sandwich in front of you and his meal on his side. sunwoo's sat in front of you again wiping the pair of fork and bread knife with a napkin before handing them to you. you only quietly said "thank you," as you reached for them when he spoke.

"so you liked that, huh?"

looking up with your mouth agape, you were horrified. sunwoo had a smirk and his eyes twinkled with something that tells you this day was going to be about more than a friendly breakfast date, this one was a hole you both have been digging.

[torubeth]

12:37

“tsumu, there are other things we could be doing instead of wasting money on this shitty thing. it never works and you know it!” you pulled at his arm which was busy with the joy stick and push button.

“and baby it’s rigged, we’ll just end up wasting our tickets! let’s find something else” you tried to reason with him.

“nuh-uh, ya wanted that plushie and i’m gettin it for ya, end of story!” he put a full stop to this convo and you knew further reasoning with him would be futile.

“i don’t want that plushie anymore okay ?” you smiled “c’mon tsumu, people are staring at us” you said, gesturing to the small crowd watching your 6ft tall boyfriend battle against the claw machine.

“ya can’t convince me babe, that damn plushie is coming home with us and it’s gonna sit among your other annoying ones on the bed!”

“oh you mean the ones you get jealous of ?”

suddenly he stops “what did ya just say ?” his eyebrows furrowed, looking at you accusingly.

“don’t act like you don’t know” you rolled your eyes “we all know how jealous you get of my plushies. you always take em out every time you’re over” you folded your arms over your chest.

“well- yeah that’s because we do some discreet things and it’s awkward. a bunch of animals just staring at us” he visibly shivered.

“oh my god! do you have to word it like that !? and no, that’s not the reason. admit it, you’re jealous” you pushed for the truth.

his eyes darted from the machine and to you. knowing that you weren’t gonna give up, he huffed out a breadth-

“alright fine! yeah, i’m jealous okay ? ya cuddle with em everyday..and hug em ta sleep too! how can i not be envious” he pouted like a child.

chuckling, you moved to wrap your hands around his waist “yeah yeah, now- can we leave ? i’m tired and i’d really love to go home and cuddle with my boyfriend” you looked at him expectantly, already knowing the answer.

“how can i say no to that ? and fuck this!” he kicked the machine. he then left the rest of the tickets still in the slot “i hope everyone has bad luck with this!” he grinned, making you sigh heavily.

locking arms together, you both headed towards the exit when-

“oh my god! look! i got it! can you believe that !?” a kid shrieked, causing both of you to turn around.

a kid was holding the same exact plushie atsumu was fighting for and used the tickets atsumu left behind. you didn’t mind it but atsumu on the other hand-

“no. nope. absolutely not. cannot let this happen” he mumbled before before he took off in the same direction you came.

“tsumu don’t fight with him!” you yelled out, not wanting to see him argue with a kid.

however, you didn’t witness your boyfriend picking a fight with kid. rather he seemed to be in a deep conversation with him, who then quickly handed him the plushie, making you scrunch up your brows.

“here ya go! yer plushie” he mimicked your tone, grinning like his usual self.

“what- how did you manage to get it ? did you pay him or something ? i swear to god tsumu-”

“no baby, ya know i’d never do that. i just, gave him a number in exchange” he smiled.

you gaped at him “you gave him your number !? what the fuck ?” were you hearing this right ?

“nah, i gave him suna’s number”

“you what ?”

“but now that i think about it, i should’ve given him osamu’s instead” he feigned sadness but shrugged.

you could only stare at him and gape.

and that’s miya atsumu for you.

[munson-blurbs]

When Man Plans, God Laughs: Proposal

This is it! Eddie proposes to Single Mom!Reader with the help of Grace and Matthew.

Warnings: none, just a ton of fluff

WC: 1.6k

A/N: Reminder that I am only writing for Eddie x Single Mom!Reader on a request basis :) so if there is something you want to see from this series, send me an ask!

Dividers from @firefly-graphics

Usually, the best part of Eddie’s day is stopping by your place to visit you. The way your face lights up when you see him, no matter how exhausted you are. How you wrap your arms around him and bring him in for a hug, pressing a passionate kiss to his waiting lips. When you pull away at the pitter-patter of Grace and Matthew’s footsteps, excited to tell Eddie about their days at school. It’s been his routine for the last two years.

Today is different. Eddie has purposely planned his visit while you’re at work. With Matthew finally in kindergarten, you were also able to return to the classroom; this time, you’re the teacher. You have to stay late for parent-teacher conferences, which is the perfect time for Eddie to talk with your kids about his big plans.

He stands on the doorstep, nervously shuffling back and forth as he rings the doorbell. He hasn’t felt this anxious since your first date, but this was much bigger. Eddie was going to ask Matthew and Grace for permission to propose to you.

Your mom answers, a grin on her face and her eyes already misty. Eddie had run the plan by her, making sure she would be there to help answer any questions they have. “You’ve caught them in a good mood today,” she tells him with a wink. He wipes imaginary sweat from his brow as he walks through the door.

“Gracie! Matty!” Your mom calls out. “Eddie’s here!” She and Eddie share a laugh as the kids race into the living room, already arguing over who is going to hug him first. To avoid any further conflict, he scoops them both up, one in each arm, and squeezes them tight.

“C’mon,” he says excitedly, trying to keep his voice from wobbling, “let’s go in the kitchen. I have something very important to ask you both.” 

“Didja get us presents?” Matthew squeals, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Not exactly,” Eddie frowns, although now he’s questioning whether he should have. Even just candy–or is that considered bribery? He sets each kid down and they scramble to sit at the table. Eddie plops into a chair, the one that basically belongs to him at this point, since he’s over for meals so often.

“So,” Eddie begins, rubbing his hands together. His metal rings clang as they brush against each other. “You know that I love your mommy–and you guys–very, very much, right?” He waits for them to nod before continuing. “And sometimes, when grown-ups love each other, they want to get married.”

“Are you and Mommy getting married?” Grace pipes up. A smile twitches at her lips.

“Well, that’s what I’m gettin’ at, Gracie Bean,” Eddie replies, returning her expression. “I would love to marry your mommy, but before I propose, I wanted to make sure my two favorite rugrats were okay with it.”

Matthew wastes no time giving his response. “Yes!” He shouts so loudly, it makes Eddie wince. “Eddie and Mommy are gonna get married!”

“Hold on, little dude,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “We gotta wait for Grace to tell us what she thinks.” He turns to face your daughter, who appears to be deep in thought. “You don’t have to give me an answer right away,” Eddie says softly. “You can think about it for a little while and get back to me.”

The seven-year-old looks at him shyly. “Can I ask you some questions?” she ventures.

“‘Course, kiddo. Anything you wanna know.” He tries to sound calm, but his heart is pounding.

She pauses before starting. “If you and Mommy get married, what happens to our daddy?” She tangles her fingers together, a nervous habit she picked up from you. “Like, are you our daddy?”

Eddie breathes out. “Your Daddy is always going to be your daddy. That’s not going to change.” Even if he is a total douche, he thinks to himself. “And I’m always going to be your Eddie.”

“But what if…what if I want you to be my daddy?” Grace’s voice is barely above a whisper, and Eddie’s heart leaps.

“Gracie, you and Matthew can call me whatever makes you happy. You can call me Daddy, or you can call me Eddie. I’m perfectly fine with either”

“Can we call you ‘Poo-Poo Head?’” Matthew chimes in, cackling like he just told the world’s funniest joke.

Your mom stifles a giggle, and Eddie places his head in his hands. “Uh, maybe not that one.” He returns his attention back to the little girl in front of him. “What other questions do you have for me?”

“Are you gonna live with us?” Her demeanor shifts from suspicious to inquisitive, and Eddie relaxes as he sees her getting more comfortable.

He nods, offering her another smile. “Well, we wouldn’t live with Grandma anymore, but we’d get a place nearby, right here in Hawkins. So you would still see her all the time.” 

“And I can wear a pretty dress?”

“Gracie Bean, you are gonna have the prettiest dress at the wedding. Even prettier than Mommy’s,” Eddie adds in a stage whisper. “But first, she has to say yes! Will you guys help me?”

Your children jump up and down, clapping their hands. Eddie shoots your mom a thankful grin, and she gives him a thumbs-up.

“Looks like we’re gonna have a proposal!” she says.

Eddie knows that the kids–Matthew in particular–will spoil the surprise if he waits too long, so he decides to propose that night. He runs back to his place and changes into a black button down shirt and dress pants; the only pair he owns, truthfully. He slides on some nice shoes, grimacing as they pinch his toes. He would only do this for you. Running a comb through his hair and spritzing on some cologne you got him for Christmas last year, he takes a look at himself in the mirror. Not bad, Munson, he thinks. You clean up nice for a trailer park boy. He’s so nervous, he almost leaves without grabbing the ring box from his nightstand.

When he pulls up to your mom’s house, Grace and Matthew are already at the front door, waiting excitedly. Grace is wearing a soft pink dress and white dress flats with plastic daisies on them; Matthew is in khakis and a black button down, similar to Eddie’s. Eddie jogs around to the backseat and pulls out a bouquet of red roses, strings of fairy lights, and a small stack of photos. The ring is safely in his pocket.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” he chants eagerly. “We’ve got lots of work to do, and not a lot of time!” He starts hanging up the lights in the family room, making sure the tiny clothespins are all evenly spaced. Then he goes to work hanging up the photos. There’s a bunch of the two of you: you sitting on his lap and him kissing your cheek, him giving you a piggyback ride, him smiling at you making a silly face. And, of course, there are plenty with the kids: the four of you at the Fourth of July carnival, you and Eddie with Grace after her school talent show, Matthew and Eddie posing as matching Batmans at Halloween. 

“Do you think she’ll like it?” he asks the kids, looking at his masterpiece. Before they can answer, a car door slams shut.

“She’s home!” Grace whisper-shouts. “Assume your positions!” She and Matthew stand by the door, while Eddie waits in the family room. He’s toying with the ring box, contemplating every possible outcome. Should he have done this privately? Will you feel obligated to say ‘yes’ because the kids are there? His train of thought is interrupted by the kids saying, “C’mon, Mommy; we have something to show you!”

“Okay, okay!” you give an exasperated sigh. “Why are you guys all dressed up?”

“You’ll see,” Matthew answers in a singsong voice.

Eddie hears your heels clacking on the floor, getting louder as you approach him. It takes you a moment to realize what’s happening.

“Oh my God,” you murmur, eyes filling with . “Eddie, is this–”

“I’ve known you were someone special since the moment we met,” he starts. “What I didn’t realize was just how much you would change my life. You, Gracie, and Matty are the best things that ever happened to me. The love I have for you all is like…like nothing I’ve ever felt before in my life.”

“We…we love you, too,” you choke out. 

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to spend the rest of our lives together, making even more memories. I mean, it’s only been two years, and look how many we have already!” He motions to the wall of photos, bringing a fresh batch of tears for you both. He takes the box out of his pocket and gets on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

“Say yes, Mommy!” Matthew yells out, and his big sister claps a hand over his mouth. 

“Yes, Eddie,” you manage, eyes glistening. “Of course I’ll marry you!” He slides the ring onto your finger, and you gasp at the beautiful round diamond that now adorns your hand. “It’s beautiful.” You throw your arms around Eddie’s neck and give him a kiss. He lifts you slightly, holding you to him.

“Are you married now?” Matthew asks, making you and Eddie laugh.

“No,” Grace answers for you. “They have to have a wedding and say ‘I do!’ And Mommy’s gotta wear a white dress and Eddie–Daddy–is gonna wear a tuxedo.”

You raise your eyebrows at this, and Eddie shrugs. “She asked if she could call me that, I swear.”

Your heart explodes for the second time today. “And you’re gonna wear a tuxedo?” you ask teasingly.

“That’s still up for debate.” --

[metallicaislife]

Afternoon Delight

Requested by : Anon

Genre: 18+ Smut, minors dni

Word Count: 845

Warnings: drug use, protected sex, P in V sex, m x f pairing, fingering, post sex cockwarming

“What do you want to listen to?” I asked as I looked through Cliff’s cassette collection. 

“Anything there is good.” He replied. 

“You’re no help.” I murmured. Granted he was focused on rolling us a joint to share so I shouldn’t give him too much shit. I continued to look through his music, then settled on a Peter Gabriel cassette. 

“Good choice.” He looked up as he finished prepping the joint. I sat on his bed with my back against the wall. 

Cliff sat next to me near the end of his bed. 

“Open.” He took my chin in his fingers to part my lips and placed the joint between them. 

“You rolled it, you get the first hit.” I said, trying to take it out of my mouth. He swatted my hand away and flicked the lighter. 

“I want you to take the first hit.” He said. I didn’t argue further and inhaled. I took the joint and passed it to Cliff. I exhaled and coughed a little. 

Cliff and I passed it back and forth for a while before putting it out. 

“That’s good shit.” I said, smiling at him. He chuckled and rubbed my thigh. 

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrow lifted. 

“Mmm. I mean you always have the best green.” I giggle. 

“Yeah, I do.” He grinned at me. His hand stayed on my thigh as we continued chatting about everything yet nothing. That is one of the things I love about Cliff, we can talk for hours, about silly stuff, deep things, and most of all he’s the person I can sit in silence with. Just being with him makes me happy. 

It hadn’t slipped my notice that his hand occasionally moved higher, alternating between soft squeezes and rubbing little circles with his fingers. I was however caught off guard mid sentence as he maneuvered and pinned me to his bed. 

“Is this okay?” He asked as he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. Any recollection of what I was in the middle of saying had vanished.

“Yeah.” I smiled up at him. He grinned back at me then leaned down to meet my lips in a tender kiss. The kiss grew more and more needy as he ground his hips into mine. I could feel his erection through his jeans. 

“I just wanna be inside you.” He mumbled against my lips. I didn’t respond verbally. I played with the hem of his shirt, he sat up and took it off then helped sit me up enough to get my shirt and bra off. He kissed my shoulder, laying me back down. He impressively shimmied himself down so he could undo my pants button and zipper. I instinctively raised my hips, he took my pants and panties in one go. After flinging them into his room he began running his fingers through my folds. He let his fingers collect enough slick before sliding them inside of me. 

“I don’t want your fingers.” I whined. 

“I know, love. I have to make sure you’re ready to take me.” He reassured me and kissed my thigh. My whine turned into a moan as he curled his fingers. Just when I was about to go over the edge he pulled them out. I whined again and he chuckled softly. He stood up removing his jeans and boxers letting his erection free. He opened the drawer to his bedside table and pulled out a condom. I watched intently as he put in on, he got back on top of me and didn’t waste any time aligning himself with my entrance. I widened my legs, he sunk in and leaned down resting his forehead on mine. I wrapped my legs around him as he found a steady pace. His lips met mine in a passionate kiss. 

Cliff intertwined our fingers with one hand, as his other found my sensitive clit. It wasn’t long before I came, the pleasure hitting me so hard I swear I could see stars. 

“Oh god. You feel so good, squeezing me so hard.” He groaned. Cliff didn’t last much longer. His hips stuttered as he came. He continued to rut into me stretching both of our highs until he came to stop fully sheathed inside me. He took a minute with his head buried in my shoulder, his body weight like a comforting weighted blanket. I rubbed his back softly. 

I squealed as he rolled us over, he was still inside of me and I was now on top. He patted his chest and I laid flushed against him. He snagged his blanket pulling it over us as we cuddled. 

“I love you.” He murmured as he tickled my back, I could hear the sleepiness in his voice. 

“I love you more.” I smiled softly, running my fingers over his chest.  

“Uh-huh.” He protested. 

“Most definitely.” I teased. 

“I’m too tired to prove otherwise right now… but just you wait.” He teased back, kissing my forehead. 

“Already looking forward to it.” I yawned and quickly fell into a peaceful slumber. 

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

[starwarsmum]

Day 28: Not Invulnerable and it takes us back to BioDad Bruce ❤️

@maribat-calendar-events

Dick was having a heated conversation with Bruce on the Watchtower and Tim was watching and trying to disappear into the background. He was used to them arguing about anything and everything, even though Dick was unfailingly kind to both Tim and Marinette.

“She needs help, Bruce!” Dick shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Tim watched in fascination as Bruce stubbornly ignored the more flamboyant man. “Just- get her to talk to Dinah, to anyone, please, get her a freaking therapist. I know you're a lost cause but M could be saved a lot of heartache if you would just make her go to therapy.”

“Fine,” Bruce ground out, glaring at the screen of the computer he was working on as though it personally offended him. “I will ask Black Canary to have a session with her. We can't risk her going to a civilian therapist just in case.”

“Great, thank you.” Dick didn't waste any time, practically fleeing before Bruce could change his mind. Tim watched Bruce mutter to himself and pull up a message to Black Canary. 

_ _ _

Marinette sat in the office nervously, picking at the skin on her fingers and chewing her lip. She glanced at the door, wondering when she could safely say that she had stayed in the room long enough to satisfy her promise to Dick to have given this a try. The blonde woman sitting in the chair opposite her was watching her but not saying anything.

“I just don't think this is going to help anything,” Marinette blurted out, flushing when the woman merely tilted her head to the side. “I'm sorry, that was rude. I just…I'm coping fine. I don't see how talking about it all again is going to magically make it better.”

“Is that what you want to happen?” Dinah asked her, tone warm but without inflection. It made Marinette hesitate and wish she had just kept her mouth shut. “Marinette, I understand being sceptical of the process of therapy. You're certainly not the first young person to think that they're coping just fine, but the reality is your family are worried about you.”

“Pfft, please, the only ‘family’ I have left is Bruce, and given that I'm pretty sure he had to be strong-armed into allowing these sessions to happen, I think it's safe to say that my family are not worried about me. And he's right, I'm doing absolutely fine, just as peachy as one could be after their entire life has been destroyed on multiple occasions.”

Marinette looked out of the window behind Dinah, the sensation of tears prickling her eyes making it hard to see. 

“Perhaps you could talk me through how your life has been destroyed,” Dinah said gently, leaning onto her knees with her elbows. The compassion in her voice was obvious, and it made Marinette want to break something. She didn't need this woman's compassion, not anymore.

“Which time?” Was what she said, her voice turning robotic. “When I convinced the boy I was living with that he should chase after a woman that ended up getting him killed? Or how about when my parents died in a horrific fire and I was forced to give up everything to live with a strange man who didn't even know I existed?

“Maybe you want me to go back further,” Marinette said, voice cracking as Dinah stayed quiet and the tears that had been threatening spilled over. She swiped at them angrily, furious that she was letting her temper get the better of her again. “Like how I had to put up with a shitty school bully for most of my life. Or the fact that I had to give up a crush on a boy because of the aforementioned dead parents.

“Even better, what about when I was forced to become a fucking child hero because some stupid asshole with a god complex decided to start terrorising my home city,” she ranted, switching to French without even thinking about it. For the first time, Dinah's forehead wrinkled as if in confusion and Marinette felt a twisted sense of accomplishment. “And just when I thought I would win, that I could be that hero, I had to give it up. I had to give away my only remaining support because I had to move to the fucking united states to live with strangers.

“It's such a twisted joke that it turns out my biological father is some demented vigilante, who picks up stray children to train up,” Marinette finished quietly, lapsing into silence. She was breathing hard, but something in her had eased slightly, a weight she hadn't been able to shift falling away at finally having said it out loud.

“A child hero?” 

Marinette froze. No. She- why hadn't she thought that the woman might be able to speak French? She had gotten carried away and vented and now her most closely guarded secret was laid bare in front of a perfect stranger.

“...you speak French,” she said flatly, panic clawing at her insides again. When Dinah inclined her head, Marinette forced herself to calm down. “Any chance I can ask you to, just, forget everything I said in French? Maybe we can talk about my emotional trauma from being the reason Jason died instead?”

“I- it's your session, Marinette,” Dinah said, and Marinette was a little relieved (and proud, though she knew that was stupid) to see that the woman was at least a little unsettled. “Why would you think it was your fault that Jason died? Do you blame yourself for your parents death?”

“Don't be silly, my parents died in a freak accident,” Marinette said, giving Dinah a disapproving look. She got one in return and gave a humourless chuckle. “Look, I've come to terms with it. I know what I did, Bruce knows what I did and we both know that I could have kept him safe.”

“So you think that Bruce blames you as well?” Dinah was settling back into her professional demeanour as she found a topic she was familiar with. Marinette snorted again, allowing the brittle shell of humour to act as a shield.

“It's not an assumption, BC,” Marinette said, rolling her eyes. “Look, my father is not the type to pull his punches and he has made it very clear where he lays the blame. And I agree, I'm culpable and I've accepted it. Do I miss Jason? Every single day, but I have grieved him and I'm moving on.”

“Grief isn't a one way track. You will have days for the rest of your life that will swamp you with grief, and that's okay. Even Superman is vulnerable and he has superpowers.”

“Subtle,” Marinette snarked, her arms folding across her chest. “Trust me, I know that it doesn't go away. It's been over a year since my parents died and I still miss them. And there are some days when I can't get out of bed without help. But I'm doing better, and I'm doing it on my own.”

“Just imagine how far you could get with help,” Dinah replied, leaning back in her chair. “Marinette, I want to help. Bruce wants you to get help because he's worried about yo-”

“I'm going to have to stop you there because you're horribly misinformed. Bruce only contacted you because Dick is worried. If it was up to Bruce he would've waited for me to move out and washed his hands of me. You know one facet of Bruce and, in spite of any insight you might gain from your training as a psychologist, that facet is usually focused on a mission. As someone who lives with the man, I can assure you that I have the bigger picture.

“I may not be a trained psychologist, but even I know that you have a bias. Batman is a domineering figure and you look up to him to some extent. You keep saying Bruce is worried about me because that's your belief. If you want to help me with some things then fine, we can talk about anything else. But if you aren't willing to set that bias aside and listen to me, this is already over.”

Dinah looked taken back but nodded slowly. She turned away for a moment before grabbing a pad of paper and a pen.

“You're right, I do have a bias and I'm sorry for dismissing what you said,” Dinah said, cracking the spine of the pad of paper as she turned the top page. “How about this: I'm going to ask you a series of questions about your life - yes, including the little bit you want to pretend you didn't tell me about - and you can answer as much or as little as you want. 

“You're a smart girl and practically an adult. And if I'm interpreting what you said correctly, you have more hidden in your past than even Bruce knows about. I promise that I won't share what you say to me now with anyone else within the confines of the law, and even then I have a little wiggle room.”

“...fine,” Marinette muttered, stretching and grabbing her own sketchbook and pencils. “I'll find this easier if I can sketch while we talk. But instead of twenty questions, I'm going to talk about what I've been through. I'll tell you everything I'm able and willing, and we'll go from there, okay?”

Dinah agreed and Marinette launched into a concise but extremely clear explanation of her last year in collége. She talked about finding magical jewelry in her room, of reluctantly becoming the hero Ladybug and declaring war on Hawkmoth. About her goofy best friend and partner and how he had given her courage even as he exasperated her.

And then came the tough part. 

“I- my friend Alya had been nagging me about spending the night at her place for a sleepover and to look after her sisters with her. Our other friend, Nino, was there with his little brother and then her twin sister got akumatised. We de-evilised them and went back to bed, everything was fine. 

“Bu-but then an officer came for me at her place and took me to the station. And, well, obviously they told me what had happened and everything went sort of blank. I don't fully remember everything that happened, but thankfully I wasn't akumatised. They told me I was moving to America a couple of days later and…I had to give up the earrings. I got to say goodbye to Tikki but it was rushed and I have no idea what's happening with Hawkmoth anymore.”

Marinette buried her head in her hands as she worked to push her feelings about all of this back into the box they were spilling out of. She flinched when Dinah settled onto the sofa next to her, a soothing hand rubbing circles on her back.

“I'm so sorry, Marinette. I can't imagine having your whole world being pulled apart like that, let alone having to move to a new country at the same time.”

“Yeah. But I started to heal, I swear I did. I- Jason used to talk to me about absolutely everything, asking me about my designs or talking about whatever book he was reading. Bruce didn't want me there, he hated that I was forced onto him without so much as a warning text, but Jason did.

“And I couldn't see it because I didn't have the whole picture, but even though he was never anything but sweet and gentle with me, he had this- this anger in him. He would talk about the villains and vigilantes and there would be this undercurrent of rage. But I thought we would have time to help each other, to grow and be…more.

“And then,” Marinette's voice dropped to a whisper, “he told me that he wanted to go after his mom. And I understood it, you know? I would give anything to see my maman and papa again. It's horrible, but if I had to choose between Bruce and them I wouldn't hesitate. 

“So I understood and I told him to go and come back when he could. I lied to Bruce and Alfred, so he would get a headstart on finding Sheila. And when they asked me about it the next morning, I tried to keep them from chasing after him by telling them he had the right to go to her.

“I figured that that was the end of it; Bruce would drag Jason home and we would work out another way for him to get to her. But Bruce came home alone. And I knew, somehow I knew he wasn't coming back but I pretended everything was fine and asked. And he told me he was dead and it took so long for me to even feel anything again.

“But I did, I went through denial, and anger. I prayed to every deity I could think of and begged them to give him back. There was a month where I don't know if I even got out of bed until Dick came and forced me out of the manor. I still don't know if I'll ever be able to feel things like hope, but the fact that I can feel anything feels like a miracle some days.”

They sat in silence for several more moments until a harsh beeping pulled Dinah back over to her desk. Swearing softly, she turned to Marinette apologetically but the teen just waved her off. She knew there were things that trumped what she was going through and, honestly, she needed some time to herself.

_ _ _

“But she's okay, Canary?” Dick said again, hovering by Dinah's elbow as she walked down the halls of the Watchtower. He cringed slightly when she shot him an annoyed look. “Sorry, I'm just worried about her. She bottles things up and I'm just scared that it's going to bubble out of her in a dangerous way one day.”

“I know, Wing, but I promised her I would keep it confidential. She's lost enough that I would like her to keep her privacy,” she said, a gentleness in her tone that, if anything, made Dick more concerned. He nodded, however and let Dinah leave for whatever she was running late for. 

“Yo, Nightwing, what's up?” Tim and his buddy Conner came over to him as he wandered back the way he had come. He smiled at them both, shaking off his stupor and unease. “Did you hear about the Paris situation?”

[sunny1616]

Deluded Pt. 1

Matteo Riddle x Reader

Summary: You and Matteo have a toxic yet addictive bond. Both of you know it and can't help but feed into it further. But what happens when the limit is found and crossed?

Warnings ⚠️: toxic relationship, swearing, arguing

"Sttawpp Matteeo.. i have to get to class..." Matteo, has you trapped in an outdoor alcove at the courtyard. His hands bracket your hips, and his head is nuzzled in the sweet spot between your neck and collar bone. At your request for him to stop his perusal of your neck, he responds with a giggle that tickles you under your jawline. "This is no joke! McGonagall will kill me if i show up late for the third time this month!!... MATTEO IM SERIOUS.." You then brace your forearms against his chest and push off.

"Comme onnn. That old witch won't notice. Know-it-all-Granger takes up all her attention in that class. I know you dont want to go, so why are you wasting this precious, precious time?.." At the last two words, his face is back on the same sensitive spot. And you wiggle again with less will to end it.

"Ughhh, at this rate, we both won't ever graduate. Don't you ever take anything at least a bit seriously?" This was partly a jest, but you also wanted to know if Matteo had the right priorities.

"Why do you have to ruin the mood? Who the fuck cares about school? Both our families are loaded anyway. You could work at any department at the Ministry even if you didnt pass Divination. Besides, no one goes to classes anyways. Blaise, Crab, Goyle, and Theo- even Pansy doesn't give a shit most of the time! BE MORE LIKE HER AND STOP KILLING MY BONER" He ends with an annoyed exasperation. You just gape at his complete disregard for school. Sure, you weren't a stellar student, but you gave at least 60% of an effort. Better than 0, duh?!

"I dont want to be like all those people!! If i want to do something worthwhile after grad, imma have to learn a thing or two to be of some use. My mommy and daddys money can't buy that STUPID!!" Eyes wide, you think about picking up your bag to leave, but before you can reach down, he's already hissing again.

"Holy fuck... your such a fucking tease right now. Fine. Go. I dont give a fuck. You're not irreplaceable, there are 20 other bitches that'll gladly take your place with me right now over some dumbass class." He then frenziedly takes out a cigarette and lights it. Not even looking at you.

After a pause and a breath, you finally say, "Wow. How fucking fragile are you? You cant even go a minute without having your dick wet can you? Its pathetic... Im sorry that i have other priorities than you, a raging manslut!! And since you have 20 other girls under me, i invite you to go to them because im sooo fucking done with your ass. They're all probably waiting oh so patiently too for me to let you go. Too bad for them to soon figure out what a DISAPPOINTING MESS YOU ARE."

"Haha yea right. Let's see how you like it when you can't have me. You're gonna wish you had chosen differently. While i on the other hand get to finally HAVE SOME FUCKING FUN. GO DRY YOUR PUSSY OUT WITH MCGONAGALL AND TRY NOT TO GET RUG BURN WHEN YOU CRAWL BACK TO ME." You're already halfway across the courtyard and dont even turn back when you scream:

"I HOPE YOU KNOW THE NUMBERS BETWEEN 0 AND 20 WHEN YOU COUNTDOWN YOU DUMB FUCKER!!"

You sort of speed stomp across the yard to reach the hallway. Then quickly go to the changing staircase to get onto the right set of stairs in order for you to arrive to class on time.

Now that the nerves of almost missing class have subsided, you are now fuming about everything else. How could he say all those things to you? Though you know Matteo and what he's capable of your delusional thoughts creep in to ask; did he truly mean all those things? He won't actually hook up with other girls, right? Deep down, you knew the answer but still refused to trust it. Matteo is more unlike his father than he is like his father. But in regards to keeping true to his threats, you could say it runs in the family.

Author note: i hope yall are angry at Matteo. Hehe. Part 2 coming soon!

[locklylenerd77]

This my interpretation of Crowley's "no nightingales".

"A nightingale sang" was used at the end of season 1 as a way of showing that all was good, gentle, and romantic.

The song "A nightingale sang in Berkely Square" itself describes a series of romantic scenes, ending each one with "a nightingale sang". This translates to, in terms of Aziraphale and Crowley, their moments together undisturbed. The nightingale singing is the brief happiness they can enjoy in each other's unperturbed company. It's an in-the-moment happy ending that Aziraphale isn't ready to take further yet by agreeing to "go off together" with Crowley because it's "too fast" for him.

But this time, there's "no nightingales". This is Crowley's way of saying "this isn't good or romantic. Look at us. Our relationship is falling apart. This isn't a happy ending.". Every time they argue, they make up with an apology dance that has replaced any form of real, healthy communication. Every time, Crowley comes back or Aziraphale admits he was wrong, and they continue as normal.

This cycle makes it impossible for the relationship to progress romantically- the emotional depth isn't deepening.

This time, Crowley's tired. He's just confessed his love and Aziraphale only repeats his brainwashed desires to return to his toxic manipulator. Crowley is trying to tell Aziraphale, down to the very last moment beside his car, waiting, that this is the final time. There's "no nightingales" because their relationship doesn't rely on their mutual romantic love anymore. It's not enough- they both have to start working to preserve their relationship and communicate better. The "nightingale" is a metaphor for the underlying foundations of trust, co-dependency, intrigue, shared opinions, and playfulness in their relationship. But that's all temporarily gone, now.

Think of it like vacuum cleaners before dyson. The more you use them, the less efficient they become. Crowley and Aziraphale can only ignore the problems in their relationship for so long, polishing over broken floorboards, before it needs to be refurbished entirely. That underlying love is fading because they aren't nurturing it. It's wasting away as they use it to replace communication, understanding, and reassurance.

The nightingale is silent because it's them who need to find a solution this time. They can't go on like this forever- for once they must work it out. They can't (apology) dance forever- Crowley's stepping off the dancefloor and extending a hand to Aziraphale. He's saying, "Do you realize we're in crisis? Do you feel like love alone can save us this time?"

And Aziraphale doesn't hear anything, because its him who's the nightingale, and Crowley's asking him to sing.

The relationship is in Aziraphale's hands, and he's forgotten the lyrics.

[renegade-skywalker]

Forgive Me

Summary:

Incensed with Gale's recent inclination to sacrifice himself, Merit is less inclined to let Gale heal her in the aftermath of a battle in Shadowheart's stead. Though she lets him anyway.

Word Count: 2,701

Rating: T

~~~

“May I humbly suggest we slow down a bit?” Astarion asked, derision coloring his words as if he were speaking them sweetly when Merit and the rest of the party knew that it wasn’t so much a question as much as it was a backhanded warning. “If my bow snags on another twisted branch I will-”

“We need to get back to camp,” Merit snapped, knowing that the man was right but shooting him daggers anyway. Astarion’s eyes flashed scarlet when Merit’s gaze met his unsuspecting one, her stare sharp as she turned on her heel and looked him dead on. The remainder of the party behind him stopped in kind, all of them coming to a hurried stop on the brink of a pile-up. Merit from a day ago would have laughed quietly at the display, but the Merit of today was running out of patience. “Now. ”

“We’ll get there, alright,” Karlach said with an uneasy laugh. “If we just take our time and-”

“We’ve already run out of time,” Merit argued, turning around and trudging on. “The sooner we get everyone to Last Light, the better. We can’t be wasting any more time in this place.”

If she were being honest, the ghostly land surrounding the remains of Reithwin unnerved her. Some semblance of its ruins rang eerily familiar with her memory though she did not yet know why, and as much as the curious part of her mind wanted to find out, the other part felt too suffocated by its encroaching darkness to delve too deep just yet, already afraid that this would be the end of things if only for the foreboding audience Elminster Aumar graced them with whilst politely eating all of their cheese. Merit kept her attention forward, peering through the gloom, though she sensed the remainder of the party exchanging dark glances behind her retreating back. 

“Merit, perhaps the others are right,” Gale finally pleaded with a gentle hand at her elbow, only Merit snatched it away, dancing out of his touch. Her name still sounded sweet on his tongue, yet hearing it still set an ache to well deep in her bones. “Maybe we should-”

The crook of her elbow seared with the closeness, both craving it yet damning it at once. 

“It doesn't matter,” she hissed. “We need to-”

Within the breadth of a moment, the forest around them closed in. The looming darkness shuddered nearly shut, allowing no light to pass, snuffing out their torches and leaving them almost entirely defenseless.

Merit cursed under her breath, wishing they’d gotten farther than they had. They were so close despite the others’ protests, she could even smell the comfort of their camp’s smoke from here, imagining the safety of its light and warmth. As if conjuring an image in exact opposite of her mind’s eye, massive tendrils of thorned roots rose from the ground, threatening to smother them as their limbs were entwined and pulled precariously towards the hard earth beneath their feet.

“Stay still,” Gale warned through the din, his voice cutting through the darkness. “Go against all instinct and relax .”

“But I-” Merit heard Karlach argue from somewhere beside her before Gale hushed her in a calming tone. She wanted to be annoyed with him. She wanted to ride her anger from the day before, unsure why a man with a death wish was so keen on all of them surviving just now. But she knew he was right.

“Do as he says,” Merit sighed, fighting against the natural prison still rising from the dirt at her feet threatening to crush her bones to dust. “Imagine you’re asleep. Just pretend.”

The only other thing they could do was potentially light the entire forest ablaze. But that would only manage to anger the already accursed land further, igniting ire along with its twisting, hungry branches.

Merit followed the advice herself, allowing her limbs to go lax and imagining herself as the very air around them, a sheer nothingness instead of the solid something she very much was. Soon she was set free, but only after her entire body was given a good enough squeeze for all the breath to leave her lungs, leaving her lurching in the aftermath, her hand grazing a retreating branch with sharp spearing pain that tore through her. Her vision was already dark but her sight still swam with spots of black, oxygen leaving her system as she collapsed to the ground and her hand throbbed with unspeakable pain.

Merit sucked on her teeth and willed the agony away, her hand lancing with an ice-hot pulse that threatened to overtake her mental faculties entirely. Her vision began to darken further, her skin paling as she suddenly felt cold, but before she could succumb to the anguish, she felt a warmer hand take hers and examine the wound. 

“Hold still,” Gale urged, his voice low and husky. Merit’s vision swam a little less and through the gloom of an impending fainting spell she witnessed the man settle her against the cool of a stone wall beside them and examine her with intent urgency. “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

It was such a silly injury. It should have hardly incapacitated her, let alone made her faint, but Merit’s vision continued to swim and fade regardless, her eyes only remaining open and alert out of pure will.

“I’m already fine,” she lied, watching as Gale inspected her hand, kneeling beside her. His hair fell into his eyes as he looked at her, his fingers gentle but probing, investigating just how deep her wound cut into her flesh and just how much magic he would need to summon on her behalf. “You don’t need to-”

“Nonsense,” he cut her off, affording her a proper glance. 

Shadowheart was back at camp, she thought sourly, earning her much-needed rest after succumbing to an injury of her own though one far less dire. Merit’s skin prickled, the damage clearer now as time passed and poison seeped beneath her skin with an urgent intent to do her in.

Gale’s dark eyes were wide as discs, the worry clear on his face as his gaze met hers. Something in her stirred, whatever dismay and discontent dwelling within her at his recent suicidal disposition dissipating as she watched him. Even as he worked, his eyes remained fearful, not of his handiwork but of her injury. Gale shot her another worried glance before eventually closing his hand around hers as the Weave began to sew her wound shut. “How do you feel?”

His voice was still low, his expression earnest. Whatever concern remained must have been genuine, she thought, wondering if someone intent on their own needless self-sacrifice would at all be capable of feigning such anguish knowing that what came after might very well outlive them. If she were being honest, her hand felt better and almost as if it had never been slashed. But her insides felt otherwise, a well of sentiment flooding her suddenly as she read perhaps too deeply into Gale’s expression as he held her hand clasped between his - both warm and comforting, a feeling she instantly knew she wanted to feel more of but wasn’t prepared to injure herself further in order to perpetuate, though maybe…

“B-better,” she stammered stupidly, her eyes still fixed on his, “Much better.”

The last part came out as almost a whisper, but also a confession. To herself as well as to him, whether he knew it or not. As irrationally irate as she’d felt in the aftermath of their previous conversation, Merit couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with the man kneeling before her, wondering if she were stupid for it or simply misguided given his recent sacrificial insistence. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, already knowing her all too well. Gale examined her hand, and upon seeing that the previous gash had since restitched itself, he brought her knuckles to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against her skin. “Because I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He didn’t say as much, but Merit felt it once his lips graced her fingers - a sweet but solemn please forgive me.

Merit stilled, stone as a statue. It was only just the other day that Gale mentioned learning more medicinal magic in order to better help the party, and here he was already mastering the spell and performing it effortlessly, even if he was very much planning on leaving them forever. And it was of course the latter that gave Merit pause.

“Gale -” she uttered his name, soft as if like a prayer, but he stopped her there too, reaching a hand up towards her face, his fingers threading through the hair at her temple and gently brushing it out of her still-dizzy eyeline. 

“Let me do this for you,” he pleaded. “Please.”

His eyes bore into hers, as earnest as ever.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he added in a harrowed half-whisper, “Just… let me repay the favor, at least. While I still can.”

Merit could only nod, leaning into his palm as he cradled her still-weary head.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I think I can do that.”

Gale smiled a charming half-smile and leaned ever so much closer.

“Good.”

Merit’s eyes fluttered shut, calmed by Gale’s words but especially his comforting closeness. What felt like a single exhausted moment passed in her mind but when she next blinked she was back at camp and unsure of all that had transpired between. 

“Where-?” Merit sat up and spun around, her head swimming. “How-?”

“Ho there,” Gale’s careful voice warned against the quiet of the camp. It took a moment for Merit to realize exactly where she was after parsing out just how much time had passed as well. “Careful, careful…”

Gale’s easy hand eased Merit back into a reclined position, finding herself suddenly laying near the fire she only just now realized was beside her, the remainder of the camp asleep. It felt alien though not entirely unwelcome to feel Gale this close. In fact, it warmed her in a way the fire couldn’t, her limbs suddenly freezing yet burning at once, shivering in her physiological confusion.

“It’s been about a day,” Gale whispered, one hand now softly gracing her forehead, which she now realized was clammy and cold. “You fell quick with a fever. But you’re coming around now, which is-”

He exhaled, a relieved smile crossing his face as he did. Despite the illness roiling through her, some inner part of Merit warmed at the display.

“Quite the comfort, to be honest,” Gale admitted eventually. His careful hand continued to caress her forehead with practiced pause, his touch ever-so-gentle yet ever-so-earnest all the same, his thumb stroking her skin as if he were both trying to be soft with her while also hungrily committing all of her to memory. 

“Did I-?” Merit began before coughing, all thought diminishing with the action. Gale held her still, his hand a steady one against her uncertain ailments.

“You just need to ride out the remainder of the fever, that’s all,” he assured. “It’s the poison, I suspect, though the shadow curse somehow made it worse and dealt additional necrotic injury. Shadowheart said as much. She examined your wound earlier as well, though she’s long since returned to her own much-needed rest.”

“But we need to get to Last Light,” Merit argued even if her body felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Her bones might as well have been stones and if she were ever to be thrown into a lake, Merit would surely sink to the bottom of it. “We need to-”

“Tomorrow,” Gale assured her. “Tomorrow is another day.”

At least I'll have that with you, she thought. Before the end.

All Merit could do was sigh, involuntarily slumping against the lumpy pillows piled precariously behind her aching back.

“Here, allow me-” Gale reached over and adjusted her arrangement, but in doing so propped Merit against his own bracing chest while he worked. 

It took some effort, her every limb an anchor, but Merit raised a hand and stilled Gale’s eager movements. 

“Here’s fine,” she said softly, her voice a hoarse whisper. 

Gale looked at Merit sidelong, unsure, though he relented anyway, propping the pillows up beside himself instead so Merit could rest against his warmth. She could use it, Merit thought, sickness running through her with another feverish chill. But it was more than that. If Gale was true to his word, this may very well be her last night with him alive by her side, fever be damned. Any shared moment could be their last. And as angry as she was the day before, she found herself suddenly bereft of it now, left only with an incurable unease she felt might never go away. 

“You were watching over me?” she asked instead of voicing any of her inner worry, her voice a hollow shell of what she knew it to be. It was in part due to the fever, her head not feeling entirely a part of the rest of Merit’s body, but it was also in part to the quiet astonishment she felt at the realization of it as she spotted not one but two cups of tea beside her, two plates, as well as an open book placed face-down in the dirt nearby. 

“Someone had to,” Gale said as if he hadn’t volunteered, the truth of it clear on his face. His cheeks flushed red as Merit leaned more earnestly against him, in part because she had no strength not to, but also because it felt warm here beside him. Being this close afforded a warmth no fire could hope to match.

“If you say so,” Merit replied, hiding a small smile. “What are you reading?”

It was such an innocent question. Merit was entirely capable of reading it herself, the title apparent to her even from the angle at which she spied the book itself, but she wanted to hear Gale say it. She wanted to hear his voice and memorize his every intonation, relish in his every murmuring word. 

“It’s a history of the Grymforge,” he breathed into a laugh, perhaps also aware that Merit was capable of detecting the title full-well. “I know we’re clear of the place now and the crumbling monument is now behind us, but I found its insight on the Dark Justiciars to be an enlightening one, if not only for our friend’s sake.”

Would a man with a dying wish want to learn more about something that perhaps housed the future fate of one their own? Would a man waiting to die deign himself with more knowledge knowing he couldn’t take it with him?

None of these thoughts made it to the surface of Merit's lips, though the sentiments laced her tongue. She wanted to ask, but she also didn't want to know. Lest the answers she yielded were not the ones she wanted to hear.

“Read it to me,” Merit said, instead her voice laced with a lazy sort of love she couldn’t hide anymore, Gale’s earlier plea for forgiveness suddenly and all-encompassingly forgiven despite the fearfully eternal ache setting up camp at the base of her heart.

Gale looked at her sidelong again, his face growing red at the request.

“Read it to you?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, nuzzling against him. She felt him tense beneath her before succumbing to her closeness just as she did in kind. “And even when I’m asleep, just keep going. Okay?”

She wanted to hear his voice. For now and into eternity. Into sleep and beyond. 

Merit glanced over her shoulder, and despite the headache that slashed behind her eyes with the motion, she smiled, pleased to see Gale smile softly back at her. Sleep threatened the corners of her vision, but she held his gaze, studying the sight of him until the very scene was etched forever in her memory. If she was going to remember Gale long after he was gone, she wanted it to be like this.

Gale nodded, unspoken emotion welling in his eyes as he uttered in kind, “Okay.”

[nolita-fairytale]

saving sirius from azkaban & baby harry headcanon (remote island au)

au headcanon where you and young!sirius black flee the country to live on a remote island and raise baby harry instead of going to azkaban

pairing: sirius black x fem!ravenclaw reader / sirius x remus, if you squint

warnings: swearing

a/n: i'm seriously having so much fun writing this au. thank you to ALL who have read, liked, reblogged, and commented. we only have one part left!

part one | part two |

"will we wake in the morning and know what it was for? up in our bedroom after the war?

during the war, your parents leave the country and flee to a remote island in the mediterranean. because your mother has roots in the region, hiding out there guarantees the family diplomatic immunity in the wizarding world. 

your parents beg you to go with them but you refuse to leave sirius behind. besides, you want to stay and fight and are furious with them for not wanting to do the same. they want nothing more than for you to live, arguing that there are more important things than being brave and being noble. it’s important to protect the ones you love as well.

devastated that you won’t be going with them (you are an adult, afterall), your father leaves you an in-case-of-emergency box sealed with blood magic. it's a way out. turns out once the war began, your father began stealing and distributing objects from the ministry to those in need. he wanted to help as many people survive the war in his own way.

when you discover that the potters are dead and that sirius has been arrested for it, it brings you to your knees. it's remus who delivers the news, which leads to an argument. "we're wasting time arguing over his innocence, moony." "i know that you love him. i love him too. but there were twelve witnesses!" "and they're wrong. sirius wasnt the secret keeper. peter was. we didn’t tell anyone because, well because then sirius could be the decoy. That must’ve been why he was searching for Pettigrew in the first place.”

"help me, remus. please. help the man we both love."

remus agrees to help you, choosing to believe in his friend's innocence.

 you unseal the box with your own blood and you and remus find three things inside: a time turner, a letter from your father, and a spell torn out of your family's grimoire.

the letter reads: "my dearest darling, i know that you'll never leave england without sirius so i'm giving you an out. should you choose to join your mother and i, i've left you with clear instructions on how to get to us. there's an old wardrobe in your childhood bedroom. it has a twin. you will need to open a portal within it that will take you to our safe house. once you make it through, you must destroy its twin. this is the only thing that will guarantee your safety. be careful, my love. love, your father."

p.s. oh, and i have the feeling you may need this too.

you and remus work together to formulate a game plan and a timeline of events so you can go back far enough in time. since it's an illegal time turner, you are able to turn back time further than 12 hours.

packing a bag full of things you'll need to get started in your new life, and using an expander charm to do so. it's full of things like you and sirius' clothes, blankets for baby harry, toothbrushes, the toys sirius had bought for harry a few days ago, as much money as you had on hand -- the rest you'd figure out when you got to the island

you & remus travel back together just before harry is dropped off at the dursleys. while remus agrees to tail hagrid and retrieve baby harry, you go after sirius.

hear me out: you both absolutely have to wear spooky, witch hooded cloaks. i don't make the rules.

it's a long and hardwon rescue, getting to sirius just before he's about to be transported to azkaban. the patronus you produce almost takes it out of you, but you must muster up to the strength to apparate back to your childhood home.

sirius is not himself. he's been sedated with magic while incarcerated and you're not sure how you'll explain it all to him when he finally comes to.

remus has chocolate for you, upon arrival, knowing you'll need to build your strength up.

you barely make the cutoff that you and remus agreed on. when you arrive, sirius in tow, remus is teary eyed as he holds baby harry. he can't believe he and sirius wasted so much time thinking the other were the traitor. he can't believe he's losing two of his best friends in one day.

"take care of them, will you? and when it's safe, don't be a stranger," he pleads.

the fact that sirius and remus had turned against each other during the war had been eating at you, so in a way, you're grateful that the boys can finally smooth things over -- even if under the worst circumstances.

"i love you, remus. i'll tell him. i'll tell sirius about everything you've done for us."

with that, you take baby harry and a spelled sirius through the armoire.

once you're inside of the armoire, it's almost as if you're walking down a very long hallway. it's dark, with only your wand's light to guide you. you have to trust the journey, even when it feels like you'll never see the other side.

baby harry strapped to your chest and sirius follows, hand in hand, like a zombie behind you. even though he's not himself, you never let go of his hand.

when you finally reach the other side, you arrive at a cottage, stepping out of the twin armoire. you cast the spell your father left you to sever the connection between armoires. once a still-enchanted-sirius and harry have been put to bed, you move the armoire outside and spend all night performing the ritual to destroy the armoire and any remaining enchantments for good.

taglist: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

[a-lost-archivist]

[It’s an audio recording. Would you like to listen to it?]

——

The tape recorder clicks on.

“Jonathan! I have your next orders”

“Oh, ah- Kamado I actually-“ Nope, not talking time for you Jon. At least not according to Kamado.

“You are to travel to the highlands to quell another frenzied noble. Electrode, Lord of the Hollow. “

“I wanted to request-“

Another voice interrupts, younger but still distinctly masculine.

"Electrode has a propensity to store up electricity in it's body, then unleash it. But since electrode became frenzied, those electrical outbursts have become giant blasts"

Jon doesn't even bother trying to get his piece in this time, as Kamado immediately starts running his mouth again.

"Hrrrm! We'll be enlisting the Pearl Clan's aid in securing you safe passage to Electrode's seat. I've sent word ahead to Irida asking-"

Somewhere nearby, there's a short spot of arguing, shoving, and footsteps followed by an incredibly grating voice making his presence known.

"Hey ho, Bossman Kamado! I thought it might've slipped your mind to send me an invite, so I took the liberty of stopping by anyways"

"...Christ thats- I ah-" Jon still hasn't learned that nobody here is planning on letting him speak, and therefore tries once again to get a word in only to be cut off by the same younger voice from before.

"Melli! Where are your manners? We are having an important conversation!"

"Well, see, there's your issue right there! How exacty did you plan to discuss our Lord Electrode without it's mighty warden here to weigh in, Adaman?"

"I'm sure we could've handled the conversation just fine-" Nobody's listening to you Jon. Give it up already.

"We've already decided we're sending Jon to handle it." That younger voice, Adaman, graciously cuts off Melli.

"Oh come on! Do you really think that this measly bundle of twigs is capable of quelling Electrode?" But clearly not with enough force, as he goes right back to running his mouth.

"Excuse me? I'll have you know-"

"I am sincerely sorry for this interruption, both of you" Adaman interrupts, stopping an argument that was likely to have done nothing but waste everyone's time.

"It's alright. Even my own security corps were unable to stop him. It seems they'll need more training later."

"..." "Right well, if that's settled then I'd really like to.."

"Yes, Jonathan?" Oh my god Kamado was actually letting him speak this time! He doesn't seem too enthusiastic about it, but hey, better than nothing?

"Oh, ah- I'd like to request further time off, to allow my injuries to heal."

"Did you already forget about the noble we have to quell?"

"Yes but I-" He huffed. "I.. don't believe it would be safe for me to continue working at the moment" God that sounded so forced. You could just tell how unnatural that felt coming from him.

"Hrmph. Get a second opinion from the medical corps. I don't want you wasting time."

"...Right, of course."

The tape recorder clicks off.

——