#but the truth of how they felt always sept through in the end

[trnstlnticism]

liar, paramore // shawn spencer & juliet o’hara in psych 7x07 // the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, taylor jenkins reid

[theempressesofchinablog]

Empress Erdeni Bumba of the Qing Dynasty (1651-1653) The Deposed Empress

Borjigit Erdeni Bumba was the second Empress Consort of the Qing dynasty and has gone down in history as the only Qing dynasty empress to be deposed. 

Born in 1636 to the Khorchin Mongol Borjigit clan, Erdeni Bumba had a noble background. Her father Wukeshan was a first rank prince and brother to the current Empress Dowager. This would make her a cousin of her future husband, the Shunzhi Emperor who reigned from 1638 to 1661.

Erdeni Bumba was selected to become the emperor's primary consort by order of Empress Dowager Zhaosheng and Dorgon, former regent, and was instated as empress on 27 Sept 1651. Sadly, she would only hold this position for just over two years. 

Their marriage was not a happy one as the Shunzhi Emperor was not the one to choose her as his bride. In October of 1653 the emperor began to look through the historical records to find out how to depose of his empress, much to the dismay of his court. They fiercely argued against this action as they felt his reasons were unjust and silly. 

First, he claimed she was extravagant and loved luxury. He cited her as always wearing her empress robes and being decorated with jade and pearls. His court claimed this as silly because she was the empress and therefore allowed to be extravagant as that came with the title. It was also known his favored Consort Donggo (who he wished to instate as Empress) was known to live even more luxuriously then the current Empress. 

Secondly, he claimed she was widely jealous and possessive of him. The Shunzhi Emperor claimed that Erdeni Bumba would torture and try to kill any consort she thought was to pretty. His court did not believe this as Emperor Shunzhi had several children with his consorts, so how could Erdeni Bumba be killing them? She would also have known her husband would have concubines before she married him as that was the custom at the time. It’s unlikely this reason was true. 

Most likely, Erdeni Bumba was innocent of these charges and ended up deposed because of growing tensions between Emperor Shunzhi and the Empress Dowager Zhaosheng.

Ultimately, Emperor Shunzhi went ahead and officially deposed Empress Erdeni Bumba on 15 Oct 1653. She was only 17 years old. He would instead title her as Consort Jing. We know nothing else of her fate as Borjigit Erdeni Bumba was not mentioned in the records again. Some histories suggest that she was actually pregnant at the time of her deposition and was sent out of the Forbidden City to give birth or that she may have been sent to the Cold Palace to spend the rest of her days in solitude, but we will never know if there is any truth to these claims.  All that is left of Erdeni Bumba are her husband's vile claims against her. 

An edict issued on 17 Oct 1653 by the Shunzhi Emperor:

“Through the ages, Emperors have carefully chosen their Empresses so they could assist in domestic affairs and set a good example to the people as a mother figure. This present Empress of mine, however, was assigned to me by Prince Rui (Dorgon, the former Regent of China) in my childhood. The marriage was therefore made out of kinship rather than by careful selection. She has not been on good terms with me since she was crowned two years ago. She is not good enough to serve me or my subordinates. She is not suitable to be the mother of my offspring, and I thus informed the Empress Dowager on 15 October that I have demoted the Empress to Jingfei and sent her to live in the side chamber.”

Titles:

Lady Borjigit (from 1636)

Empress (from September 1651)

Consort Jing (from October 1653)

[the-fiction-witch]

The Faith P2

Media - Game Of Thrones Character - Lancel Lannister Couple - Lancel X Reader Reader - (OC) Lillyanna Baratheon (Daughter of Cersei & Robert) Rating - Sweet + Guilty Word Count - 1150

Lancel was a flurry of motion inside the Sept, preparing for evening prayer. It was a task he always took pride in. The routine and focus always helped purge his mind of impure thoughts, and for a moment he could simply get lost in the rhythm. Lighting the candles. Arranging the Seven-Pointed Star. Even if it was the most lowly of the tasks. Now the evening service had begun, and he took his position beside some of the other novice members of the Faith Militant. The high sparrow began to speak leading the prayer, Lancel let his head hang low listening to the prayer intently but his mind betrayed him, as he got flashes and flickers of Lillyanna…

The high sparrow was droning on, but Lancel was... somewhere else. He had thought he had calmed himself down, buried that sinful warmth that was present within him. But as the High Sparrow continued, he got flashes of her. A glimpse of a smile, or a laugh. Or a touch… He gripped the table fiercely and hoped that he would not let his mind wander during the entire evening prayer. His cheek burned where she had kissed him, and his mind flooded with all the kisses they had shared when in the red keep together, he remembers

The night before Blackwater...

The thoughts and memories were assaulting him. He couldn't help but feel a... warmth from them. The memory of her lips gently pressed to his, the way she gently cupped his face and ran her fingers through his hair. The wine upon her breath... How she whispered his name… he remembers so much of that night when they kissed with such passion, when they made love before the battle just in case he didn't come back, there were words then whispers that he'd be wed to her but that was all the past now…

He had to resist the memory of that night. For that was a night of drunken passion and lust mixed with fear. They had both thought he would die. That there was no future. He had felt true love for her that night, and he had whispered promises he had not kept... He couldn't let his mind linger on those memories. For his body was reminding him exactly how he felt...

He was relieved when the prayer ended, and the time was over. However, another memory stuck to him. That of her promise to come back tomorrow. He pushed the thought from his mind, the images of her coming to pray next to him. Sitting at his side, and the smell of her hair when he knelt beside her...

Perhaps this was a test. To see if he could resist the desires growing inside him. And at the moment, he was failing.

The other members of the Faith were all talking, about what he had no idea. Their words simply bounced off him as his mind began to plan. He had to get her out of his thoughts, and the only way to do so was by throwing himself into his duties. By making a pilgrimage. Maybe across Westeros to Oldtown.

The thought had merit. He quickly approached the High Sparrow. "Father, I need guidance."

"Lancel, of course, speak your mind my son" the High sparrow nodded

"I wish... to go on pilgrimage. To walk to Oldtown and see the Great Sept, and the Citadel. To spend time in worship."

"I see, a pilgrimage is a very key part of any fully devoted follower of the seven, however it is not one to be taken lightly and should be something you dwell over and meditate over many times and years before your spirit is ready. I have never heard you speak of pilgrimage before in truth tell me, is something else leading?"

Lancel should have expected the High Sparrow to question his motives. The man was not a fool, and he had long since seen through the golden lion of Lannister. He considered the High Sparrow's words and decided it would be better to give a honest answer than to lie. "I have... been... distracted as of late. Sinful thoughts have assaulted me. I need to remove myself from my current environment."

"sinful thoughts tell me of what sin brother Lancel?"

That was the question he dreaded the most. "Lust," The word came out with a whisper. "Sinful and impure thoughts of a woman. I... need to be away from her... them... that's what is right, isn't it? So I can purge my mind and soul."

"I see, lust is often one the younger members find tricky. Of course, we never wish to offend the great work of the maiden at making the women of Westeros beautiful but our role as men of faith is to appreciate but not enjoy a fine line many struggle to walk, especially at your age, tell me have you struggled with these thoughts often?"

"No..." The answer came out faster than expected. And not completely dishonest. He had never felt such lust before, or at least with someone he considered a friend, or was familiar with... "It only began when this one particular woman and I began speaking recently. We have a... history that I have been struggling to forget."

"I see, memories can be sinful to look back upon with pride and envy dear boy. And memories of women my goodness even the best of us struggle with the lust and pride of maidens of the past. But a pilgrimage will not aid this Lancel. If these feelings come to you now then the gods are testing you, putting you to a test likely to see if you shall rise as high as they plan. You should meditate over these thoughts, go to her and confirm your faith with her, remind her of the sin you shared and ask her to repent with you. Bring her light Lancel"

A test. The high sparrow's words gave Lancel a small sense of relief. He was struggling because this was a test. A test of his faith. But the High Sparrow's recommendation had him hesitate for a moment. To bring her light. To have her sit with him as a repentant member of the Seven. It seemed so simple, so easy. But also dangerous. To sit with her. Close to her...

But the high Sparrow's advice seemed to give him a goal, a path. A way that he could perhaps get her out of his mind for good. "I will... speak with her. Pray with her. To repent." Not that he could actually repent, given their history. But perhaps he could bring her light.

"good, meditate tonight on what you may say to her"

"I will." And yet... his heart would not calm itself. He had plans... to speak to her the next day. Alone in a Sept. He knew he should be nervous, anxious, repentant... but somehow, he could almost say that he was... excited.

Excited to spend time with her. 

[purpldazed]

Sept 23, 2024.

Hi stranger,

It wasn't easy to reach out to you and explain what happened in the past two years but I know that it was my mistake to be with my ex and hide what I was dealing with. I fell in love with you somewhere along the lines of being purely platonic best friends and between the all nighters we used to have. With you, I was able to know that love wasn't all consuming like I initially believed. It's funny that I didn't even know that I've been in love with you for the past six years but then again, it was a slow free fall for me. 

What I felt then and now, it had always stayed the same even when we came to change through time and the seasons that had passed when we ended through that misunderstanding of ours. We were just girls who turned into women together and we even experienced accepting our sexualities together. You were colored in every part of me and my life then, even now. All I ever felt was contentment with you, stranger. I was never able to long for anything that you couldn't give whether it was just friendship and shared conversations through eye contact in a crowded room or something beyond the familiarity of our friendship. You were more than enough for me.

But you didn't reach out after you asked me about my feelings and I told the truth. I was left hanging after you told me that it was easier to communicate through messages— “I don't mind our way of communication. It's enough to show our care for each other and keep our distance to avoid breaking each other again,” and then you told me that whatever we hold will pass. “Lilipas rin naman 'to. Kahit mag-explain ka or Hindi tayo magkaroon ng closure kung san nga ba nagkamali lahat.” But it's hard to believe when you're sending me messages only I can decipher and read through understanding the way your mind works.

You're scared. You're hurt yet, you want us to work out like we did in the past. I understand you and why you hurt. I don't blame you for anything but, I'm truly a mess after seeing the highlight on your account and how the last frame only consists of a small glimpse of my letter to you. I was stupid to confess that I fell in love with you but I was dumb to not know that you had once felt the same, too. Years before I realized my own feelings and now it feels like time itself is weaving a cruel play of us. 

You can't ask me to stay because we might end up fix whatever was broken. I can't hang around to wait if this is something more than another friendship break-up. I miss you too deeply these days, stranger. I can't keep listening to our favorite album and hate the idea that I'll leave this country that had became painted in all the hues made of everything that is you. It was wrong for me to fall in love but that's the thing about the free fall and the tenderness, I didn't even know I loved you until it was a little bit too late. 

Although I do know that I have to pick myself for once and I can't stick around in this small town to wait for your answer whether it's the end of us or if I'm waiting for anything at all. Two years was enough and for six years, my heart had only been yours. I can't drop everything in my life just to accommodate when you finally decide to reach out to me again. Am I going to be left waiting around for two years again? I don't think I want to know the answer anymore. I love you and I'm starting to love myself too, stranger.

Hopefully it won't be a goodbye but a see-you-later for now. If I ever see you in this small town or around places we used to call ours, I won't turn the other way whether you'll smile at me or act like I'm truly the ghost of your past. 

- A.

[indomitable-ace-of-hearts]

Today (Sept 10) is World Suicide Prevention Day.

And for those who may not know me too well, suicide and mental health are things I strongly support as an advocate....and, transparently, a survivor.

tl;dr: For those who are struggling. I see you. I feel you. I am you. Stay Alive.

Trigger Warning: Long post ahead talking about ideation and trauma (shared not out of sadness or shame, but healed reflection and awareness)

In latino culture, we are used to staying silent about our problems. To keep it in the family. To aguantar las penas. "Just pray."

But as I reflect today on my own experiences, there are things I've learned we should be unashamed about sharing and putting trust in others for. That there is nothing wrong with letting the pain flow outwards instead of inwards. That's because, even though it is scary and hard, doing so helps us feel less alone and more connected to each other.

We are all human, full of complex emotions, individual circumstances, and our own set of problems to figure out.

And for some of us...(and sometimes I think for a lot more of us than some care little to admit) We all have our own dark selves to fight against. For me, the truth is, I've always struggled with bouts of sadness and loneliness since early grade school.

As I look back, I know by the time I hit 5th grade I was already on a long winding journey with it’s own undesirable share of troubles.

Maybe it was because as a military brat I never knew what stability was.

Or growing up in a hispanic household I was taught to keep my feelings to myself and never learned how to properly express myself. Or my nervous system was already starting to get it's wires crossed.

All I know is by the time I was 11 or 12, I already felt like I didn't fit in anywhere... and very much alone. I didn't quite understand how the real world really worked.

Was bullied by classmates (especially the girls) for what I wore.

By then I started hanging out with the boys because it just felt more natural to me.

Even if I was not quite accepted until one of my friends vouched that I wasn't like the other girls and I was alright (because "girls day" and "boys day" on certain recess areas were still a thing and I was always on the boys side of the table where chocolate milk experiments in lunch trays were normal). I started hating the idea of being a girl. Because outside of one or two of my friends - Girls were mean, and liked girly things and always about dressing up a certain way (that I was not allowed to) and having their hair just so, wearing whatever smuckers lipgloss flavor was trending. I wasn't what one would call "pretty". No one ever called me pretty. And that was ok. I didn't think I needed to be so long as I could play with my friends in the T-shirts I snuck changed into on the bus on our way to school and a backwards hat to hide my hair.

Moving back to the states at 13 made it worse.

Being called a Nazi because I lived overseas in Germany. Alienated and ending up somehow eating lunch with the other "latino" kids who I couldn't quite connect with as a heritage speaker. Again made fun of for how I looked, this time by the boys. Missing my life overseas because Civie life and culture made no sense. But hey - at least my dad was now around more and he was the coolest dad ever.

Then came high school, where I auditioned to be accepted into their music and art programs. And with it a chance to start over again and hopefully for the better as music and art served as creative outlets that countered the spirals my mind would go through.

Talking to one of my longtime high school friends in recent years - they paint a completely different picture of me during that time than how I saw myself. It reminds me of how easy it is for people to hide pain and sadness behind a mask.

Whereas my friend shared how much they had (and still) admired me as a leader, and love my sense of humor - I only remember flailing and feeling like a wreck of a human. My jokes? I was just feeling like a fool That I was just a shadow with sketchbook, myspace, fantasy books, and writing journals being the only places I felt like I could pretend I was truly alive.

I remember breakdowns in the art room hiding under a table - and times my art teacher's let me stay in their office until I felt ok again. Art class became my safe space.

And I remember the first time I impulsively took a broken cd to my left wrist and carved out a dark three letter word.

The scar stayed for weeks, or months. I don't recall where I was when I did it. Probably in my room, hiding and in between aday-long reading binge. But I do recall the feeling like things were just too much. And afterwards - how no one ever really asked. No one checked on me. And even today I wonder if anyone actually noticed, but chose to ignore it or not ask. But the moment I did it I knew there was something wrong with how I was thinking and feeling. I wore long sleeve shirts, hid the scars behind a watch. Scratched off the scabs and eventually claimed it was a cooking burn. I was maybe...13 or 14?

But I started to fight against it. Alone because even back then...ending things something only cowards did. The stories I read said so.

Then came college. Another fresh start. And all the things that come with it.

The whole time, I found myself going through moments where I had to keep reminding myself of my dream of being a writer. I'd repeat what I told myself those final high school years. "If you left now, all your stories will go with you."

And as someone with a Creative Writing major - college was ALL about living, eating, breathing life into my stories.

It was in college that I began Taekwondo, and it fast became a physical outlet to the chaos in my head. Eventually becoming part of my survival toolkit, helping me persevere during the times I started to lose myself.

It's become a physical reminder that no matter how many set backs you can have in life - there is no one path to moving forward. Fast forward to today (literally), the martial art helps me stay grounded.

College was also the first place I went to therapy. The experiences I went through during my second and third year had been enough to bring more dangerous thoughts to the surface than broken cds - and I knew at that point I couldn't pull myself out of it alone.

I needed help. But still it was something I chose to keep to myself.

The sessions were short, but it was enough to help me start learning that it was ok to ask for help and lean on my close friends and family.

And accept when the closest of my friends literally pulled me out of my dark hole of silence and solitude. And dragged me out of the apartment or house with nothing more than a "get in the car, we're going somewhere". Because you all recognized before I did how truly dangerous it was to leave me alone.

Even if I did it with an attitude. And had no real energy or desire to think beyond just sleeping all day. Or would go hours with no will to cook or even eat.

Then came news of my cousin's decision to take his own life. The emotions that it brings up even now is just...indescribable because the reality was that in the back of my head, in between the shock, confusion, pain and feelings of loss, my thought turned to: "...that could be me my family would be getting news about the moment I stop fighting..."

To this day, that thought haunts me.

Because I know how exhausting it can be to constantly be in a mental fight to keep yourself alive. It's a thought that as I went through other traumas and experience I would hold on to. Because I personally know what it feels what it is like being on the receiving end. But the thing with depression, and sadness, and complex trauma. It still doesn't care that you logically know what it's like to be on the other side of that pain. When you are in those moments, logic is overridden and shut down. All you can do is react.

I started realizing that I needed to start fighting FOR myself when I was one month post-partum with Meri.

By then I was in a really dark place. I had no faith in myself after spending 4 years being told I wasn't enough through action and in actual words. Wasn't attractive enough. Wasn't taking care of things enough. Wasn't doing enough. 2+ years pushing through feeling degraded and stepped over at work with little to no support while being the shield to my small team. 1+ years taking care of a then 3 and a half year old and a puppy on my own while pregnant as my then husband left to work 7 hours away, 3 weeks at a time.

Trying hard to hold the house and family together only to get told while laying on the hospital hours after giving birth to my daughter that I was going to be laid off once I get off maternity leave.

Followed a month later after hoping to pick up conversations that were dropped while I was pregnant about working on our marriage in hopes he'd move back in - that I was mistaken...it was over and we needed to talk about custody schedule and divorce papers. Knowing the truth and reality - he was already with someone else -from the same place we worked at together. In that dark place, all I could think about was what I was taught about family growing up. That a real family has two married parents and that no matter what, you figured things out together. Maybe my two children were better of with their dad and this other person. So that they were a complete family. I had no job, and nothing to give them. I felt no happiness. No joy. Just pain. I remember thinking they were better off without me. And then I looked over at my daughter sleeping next to me in her bassinet. Me, a mess of quiet tears while she lay quiet and sleeping peacefully.

And the fighting instinct kicked in. A few weeks later, I started therapy again. This time for good. I ended up with a family-focused therapist who not only worked with helping me navigate life as a newly single mother of two, but would work with me for the next 5 years on becoming a good co-parent while helping navigate: - work trauma, - childhood trauma, - emotional abuse, - and only she currently knows the whole laundry list of "elses".

It is only in these past two years that I find myself understanding what it is like to be at peace with life - and almost close to what people describe is "happy."

A huge part of it, as my long-time therapist loves to remind me when I try to joke about things, stems from facing a collection of major traumatic experiences over the course of my life. And actively working on rewiring my brain, starting with the basics:

Did I eat?

Did I sleep?

Did I drink water?

I did blood tests to check in vitamin levels, and as I slowly checked off what I could control - worked with my therapist on making the decision to go on medication with the goal of using it to help me regulate just enough to keep handling the things I had no real control over.

I fought against voices of family members who spoke out against medication. Who claimed it was unnecessary and just a way for people to not put in the work.

I fought against the shame of it. And then, when it started to kick in, was able to learn for the first time what it felt like to be able to easily pull out of the low moments.

I finally knew what it felt like to have sadness be a passing breeze instead of an ice bath drop.

Now 6 years later, I am showered with love by my two children.

Who remind me every chance they get that they are happy to have me as their mother. My daughter admires me and calls me pretty. My son tells me how much he cares for me and my happiness. I have a job I truly enjoy. I have close friends to rely on and now know how to lean... and support in return. I have a strong sense of self worth. And when things fall out of my control, I am OK. And have been able to start over from zero several times and push even further each time with nothing more than my will to survive. It's a journey that took 30+ years. Which goes to show that there is no straight path or timeline to being ok. There were a lot of highs and low-lows. But each time the lows became easier and easier to recognize, understand, and manage. There were so many times in my life where I could have followed in my cousin's footsteps. As I noted before, I may not be in that story book bliss of happiness as the feeling is still something uncomfortable and strange after years of abuse, trauma, and neglect. But I am so glad I stayed alive to experience everything I am going through now and evolving into a self I am proud to call "Me". The darkness will always be there. But now it is just a shadow of a thing that I now have plenty of light in my life to shine on. Keep fighting FOR yourself and latch on the things that help you make it another day. There is light at the end, and sometimes you find you appreciate it's brightness that much more than others for having lived without it.

[fuzzyfancreatorbiscuit]

Ok this was that one shot I cleaned up, hope you guys enjoy it.

Not so bad!

It was a nice enough place, to go on a blind date. It was a hole in the wall café, that I liked to frequent. Most days would have been perfect, if I wasn't being stood up for the 8th time this month. I had corner table next to the front window as rain fell on the pane of glass in a relaxing retheme, mix with the muted tone of the brick walls and soft jazz playing in toon with the weather. Any other day it would have been perfect just sitting here with what ever drink I felt like that day. But as my luck would have it, I'm sitting alone again in brand new sun dress. He could have texted me telling me he didn't want to come or that he changed his mind, no he couldn't do that. Instead he texted my sister telling her that he took one look at me and didn't like what he saw, told her I wasn't his type and to let me down easy, say that he was in a business meeting or something. Huh business meet my foot, he owned his own company and he was the only employee. That would be a sight to see him talking to himself and getting mad at whoever ate his lunch that was clearly marked, his. My sister on the other hand is lovely and told me the truth. So I texted her back, thanks for letting me know so I don't end up sitting here until closing time waiting for someone that wasn't going to show.

Don’t let this get you down, they're are plenty of guys out there that would love to see you in that new dress we purchased together. He's an idiot for not giving you a chance. Thanks sis, but I think I'm done with blind dates for awhile if you don't mind. My sister tried to cheer me up but fails. Hey at least he wasn't as bad as that guy who shook your hand said he needed to go to the bathroom and left through the window, or the guy who came up looked at you and said, "wow you look fatter than in your photo." Nice sis did you ever work for a suicided hot line cause I think you missed your calling. Ok, ok I just don't want you feeling bad after all that hard work you did losing all that weight. I get you are trying to make me feel better but I still have a long way to go and I really should try to get to my final goal before I try again, and no more blind dates. Alright just as long as you are sure you are ok? I'm fine and I get to walk in the rain to calm down so by the time I get home I'll be as right as rain. Wink, wink. Uh boo that was terrible, get better material. Lol you love it and don't try to hide it, I know your husband after all and he's 10 times worse than I am. Just text me when you get home so I know no monster has eaten you. Oh come on they haven't had one case where a monster tried to eat someone so knock it off. Just text me please. Ok fine I will.

My sister could worry to much sometimes. She starting getting really bad when monsters set up a district roughly 5 miles away from my favorite café. She feels that some monster is going to kidnap me or eat me. Frankly I think its ridiculous that anyone would want to kidnap me, I was ok looking brown curly hair hour glass figure but I had some weight on me. I was losing it and I've lost quit a bit, but I am no where close to swim suite modal. I had no elusions of myself, I can be pretty but it took me long time to realize this cause I always felt like I wasn't good enough or pretty enough for anyone to take one look at me and say damn you look fine. I always struggled with weight and thought if any guy was going to look at me that way, was going to be one of those men that liked heavy set women. I found four and each one ended up choosing someone else. I sept out of the café hearing the bell ring for the last time this night and started on my way home. I didn't hail a cab nore did I drive here I knew it was going to rain and I was 90% sure that bugger wasn't going to show up. A text before the date told me he wasn't going to like how I looked even though I pull out all the stops. I had a hair cut, nice makeup but not to much, and new dress that made me look good. But it wasn't enough to get any guy to look my way. That’s fine, I was used to it, probably would go over my head if a guy gave me a compliment for once that wasn't related by marriage or birth.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't see the tall figure I was approaching. Next thing I know I'm falling over with my heals going over my head and landing something soft. I thought I was going to hit hard ground but something or someone broke my fall. Feeling awful that I wasn't looking where I was going I turn to apologize but before I could speak a word I'm met with sharp teeth and glowing eyelights. See somethin you like sweetheart? His baritone voice could be felt through my entire body causing me to blush like an over ripe tomato. Snapping out of it, I realize my hem of my dress had ridden up and his hands were on my thigh from how we landed. His sharp grin widens and I go to stand up only hit my head trying to stand up. Wow take it easy doll, you'll crack that pretty little skull of yours and I would feel bad if I had to take ya to a doc. Taking a slower approach I stand up this time avoiding the bar I didn't notice the first time. After readjusting my dress the best I could since it was sopping wet I realize how tall he was now that he was no longer on the ground with me on top. I feel another blush rise on me face, he had a nice suit on with no jacket but had a silver and red embroidered vest with a black button up dress shirt that he started to roll up his sleeves as he looked at the ground most likely look for his cufflinks. Feeling guilty, I start looking on the ground for something flashy that would go with his onesome. He cocked his head, what cha lookin for sweetheart? From the looks of it you lost your cufflinks I'm helping you look as sorry for bumping into you. A deep throaty chuckle that also vibrated through his chest that made you lose your train of thought. Damn it, what was this man doing to you, you just met him? Don't get to attached Y/N, he probably has beautiful girlfriend. How did ya know I lost my cufflinks toots? Don't call me that and you rolled up your French cuffs to get them out of the way and were looking at the ground a second ago. I just put two plus two together. Heh well I would much preferer looking at you doll but my brother will kill me if I have lost those damn cufflinks. You didn't hear what he said cause you spotted a couple of jewel encrusted skull cufflinks on the ground and bend down to pick them up Are these what you were looking for? Extending my hand holding them palm face up open with them in the center of my palm. His grin widens slightly reaching out to take them from hand only to get a strange tingling feeling when he touched my hand causing me to blush again, what the hell is wrong with me???

Thank you sweetheart you saved my life, how's bout I buy ya a drink to say thanks for findin them for me? I'm soaking wet I would feel bad giving some poor bar owner a mess to clean up, not only that I know my makeup is all running down my face and my once flowy dress is clinging to me and I don't have the energy to deal with all the jokes from drunk assholes about a fat chick walks into a bar, or wet one at that. Just look at me! Oh I'm lookin, com'n no one will mess with cha is you are with me. One little drink to say thank you. Sans didn't like how she talk about how people were treatin her. She had a beautiful soul not to mention sexy as hell looking temping for him to get her out of that wet dress and warm her up in the fun way, He also liked how he can make her blush so easily as well. Y/n rub her arm up and down looking across the street at the bar called Grilby's then turned to him and asked him what his name was. Sans, sans the skeleton, and your name sweetheart or do I keep calling you sweetheart? Laughing a little bit she told him her name was Y/n L/n. What's so funny doll? The way you deliver your name you sound like you are james bond. She told him with a snicker. hu does this james bond always get the girl? Lol yes he does sometime the girl doesn't last full day before they end up in his bed. Well call me james bond toots. Ha I'm not that type of james bond girl buy me dinner first. Oh if that’s all it takes I'll pay, he says with a wide grin. Down boy buy me a drink first lets see how it goes cause you might not like me as you get to know me. Not possible, I'm not so bad of a guy you might fall for me before you finish your first drink. Well see. And don’t call me toots.

[alicxnthightower]

Both guard and prisoner of her own mind, Alicent found herself tucked away in the sept often. It was the dedication to her faith that brought her there, and the avoidance of truth that kept her kneeling at the altar for hours, hands clasped above bent elbows long after the melted wax swallowed the flames of their candles.  

Backward and forward and out of order, she prayed to the Seven until she forgot what she was praying for, the string of consciousness she followed wearing thin as improper daydreams began to filter through the cracks in her desperate supplication.  

Her daydreams were only improper because while they should be wrong, they felt right. Almost too right.  

Alicent couldn’t stifle the intermittent images, sweeping memories that disrupted her focus. She would often drift mid-conversation, eyes glazed as they cast unseeing over shoulders and out windows.  

She saw her everywhere, despite her efforts not to.  

Through the warm, dissociative haze, the only thing Alicent could see was silver hair lit by moonlight and the curiosity of indigo eyes. The only thing she could smell was petrichor and orange. And the only thing she could feel was the safe, grounding touch of careful hands paired with the fluttering beat of a heart. 

The taste of wine and honeycakes on soft lips still made her dizzy. 

Rhaenyra was a painful distraction during the day and what kept her awake into the early hours of the morning. And yet, the only thing Alicent wanted was to be next to her. Where her eyes could barely meet Rhaenyra’s, she would hold her hand that much harder.  

That night remained unspoken and Alicent was too frightened to unearth it for fear of rejection. She’d thought about it, and she wanted to, but how was she to explain that her heart skipped unevenly whenever their eyes did meet, or that she sometimes forgot to breathe when Rhaenyra was first to grab her hand.  

How could she confess that it was both unbearable and sufferable without sounding mad? 

In the end, it didn’t matter whether she brought it up or not, for life always found a way to make decisions on its own when no one was looking. Everything became ash when the untimely death of Queen Aemma and her newborn son, Baelon, was announced. 

The day of the funeral, Alicent fell with Rhaenyra to the ground as the sobs that wracked the princess’ body brought the girl to her knees. She cradled her on her shoulder, cried with her, and as they held onto each other like a lifeline, Alicent prayed for better days. 

That was the beginning of the end, they just hadn’t known it at the time. 

* 

The Queen had barely grown cold in her grave by the time Alicent’s father summoned her. 

‘You might wear one of your mother’s dresses.’ 

The way Otto had phrased it was akin to a suggestion, but Alicent understood otherwise. Between the lines of his words, she knew it was an order. And who was she to challenge him?

She loved her mother’s dresses, couldn’t wait for the day when she would properly fill them out. Wearing them now, in the presence of the King, only made her feel foolish, the pride in donning the fine gowns ruined.  

Her visits with the King were pleasant. He was easy to talk to and she truly pitied him for the loss of his wife and son. As she knew Rhaenyra would, she tried to offer comfort as any daughter would a father. It wasn’t until Viserys requested she keep their time together a secret from Rhaenyra that a sickening unease began to grow in the pit of her stomach.  

As the weeks passed, Alicent learned quickly that naivety was a curse. 

* 

Anxiety, once a meddlesome itch against her skin, flourished anew with a fury that nearly took her breath away as she joined her father at his side on the order of the King’s small council meeting. With the windows closed, the room quickly grew stifling. Alicent choked on the stagnant air, and she began to fidget with her hands that had been folded over her waist. It was just mindless tapping, but then Rhaenyra entered the room, and the tapping turned to a scratching over the first knuckle of her pointer finger. 

In truth, she could hardly hear anything Viserys was saying against the pounding in her head, the disconnected voices sounding more like muffled garble on the other side of a wall. She was too focused on her hands, on Rhaenyra’s presence and the proud way the princess stood by her father while he spoke.  

And then Viserys looked her way. 

Her empty stomach churned, and had she broken her fast, she would have thrown up. Trapped like an animal and cemented to the floor, Alicent dug her nail into a frayed piece of skin at the edge of her nail bed. She started to peel it away, lifting it from its root. 

Don’t look at me. You won’t like what you see when you do. Please, don’t look at me. 

Every fibre of her being strained against her, but Alicent met Rhaenyra’s eyes across the table. It was the longest they’d held eye contact in weeks and her eyes immediately began welling with unshed tears. She tugged the loose piece of skin, ripping it clean off. A pin-drop of blood trailed down her fingertip; it was the only thing she could feel.  

To watch Rhaenyra storm away brought the walls closing in around her. Desperate to follow her, to get out of the room, Alicent hardly waited for the meeting to be finished to go after her. The princess was just about to reach her chambers when she caught up to her, breathless and panicked. 

“Rhaenyra!” She called out, voice wavering.  

Was that night in the Godswood the catalyst for the events that followed them to this moment?  

Sweet and infectious, could her desire for freedom, for love, have been nothing more than a virus that spread between shared breaths and intertwined fingers? 

Did her brief lapse in defiance against order drive them toward destruction? 

Am I being punished? Is it all my fault? 

Even then, her tears refused to fall. “Rhaenyra, wait...please.” 

It was impossible to name the moment where everything began to fall apart.

Weeks melded together and one month rolled into the next since the kiss beneath the weirwood. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had somehow felt displaced, her mind in a constant state of disarray.

Blame it on the wine, Rhaenyra would think bitterly. Or blame it on me. Set your guilt free.

Eye contact was a rare occurence, and heartstopping whenever it happened. A feeling not dissimilar to regret began to stir up in the princess' insides, spreading seeds of doubt and unease that were beginning to set deep roots in her heart, suffocating her with a thousand questions that Alicent would never answer. She was sure of that.

Then came the new habit of waking in the night with a start, consumed by the sounds of sweet sighs and Rhaenyra and the tugging of her lower lip with careful teeth - it haunted her, all of it.

She wanted to scream at Alicent for avoiding the topic altogether. Conversation came easily as always, and yet never led to that night.

She wanted to strangle herself for craving only one person's touch as she grieved for her mother. When news came of Aemma's horrific demise, Rhaenyra's voice went hoarse from all the hysterical sobs buried in none other than Alicent's shoulder. When Baelon's death followed, she forgot how to feel altogether.

Was it all a dream?

It was excruciating to uphold and live in the lie that Alicent seemingly found so comforting. In her dreams, she could still taste her.

Look at me. I am the heir to the Iron Throne, now.

Look at me.

***

Golden rays permeating through the window bathed Rhaenyra in warm light, and a low throaty groan came through in response. Rubbing at tired eyes, she sat up in her bed, brows knit together in silent protest. Viserys had called for a disconcertingly early small council meeting, and a terrible voice within her suggested that he would finally share his betrothal to young Laena Velaryon.

As nauseating of a prospect it was, it was the only appropriate solution to ensure the stability of the realm - or so it was presented. Rhaenyra held her tongue on the matter; the gods had left her father with the impossible task of filling the space that her mother had left behind. The last thing she wanted was to see him despair for rest of his life - she could no longer maintain her fury towards him, it seemed impossible. Smile again, father. It wasn't your fault. Mother is gone, though you are still here. Stay with me, I need you now more than ever.

Rhaenyra's footsteps felt heavier with every passing stride as she made her way to the small council chambers, fingers once again compulsively worrying at her rings. A quick, swift meeting - morning meetings always were. This was a good thing. It had to be a good thing.

Be strong for father.

@alicxnthightower

[gracehosborn]

Don’t you just love attempting to work on your outline for your historical fiction novel and you find yourself hours later with too many tabs of your main character’s papers open?

Yeah that was me for the last two days. But wow did I find and re-read some fun stuff.

Every now and then as I draft Volume I of this Hamilton trilogy, The American Icarus (whose title has a fun story that I might go into if anyone’s interested), I like to review my current outline in making sure plotlines are solid both for this book, and for Volume II and III, as some of them bleed into the rest of the trilogy (Alexander’s economic studies, his relationship with Elizabeth Schuyler, such with John Laurens, and his feelings towards the Continental Congress for instance).

Upon reviewing TAIVI’s outline again, I realized a few of these weren’t fleshed out (given time to grow and develop) very well. Really, it felt like they were crammed there. Originally I had planned to just add one new chapter, but no I added ten 😂

Nonetheless, I set to work digging through Hamilton’s papers again 😂 Here’s some of the gems I found or got to re-read for your enjoyment:

Indeed, my Dear friend, to drop allegory, you can hardly conceive in how dreadful a situation we are. The army, in the course of the present month, has received only four or five days rations of meal, and we really know not of any adequate relief in future. This distress at such a stage of the campaign sours the soldiery. "Tis in vain you make apologies to them. The officers are out of humour, and the worst of evils seems to be coming upon us-a loss of our virtue. "Tis in vain you attempt to appease; you are almost detested as an accomplice with the administration. I am losing character my friend, because I am not over complaisant to the spirit of clamour, so that I am in a fair way to be out with every body. With one set, I am considered as a friend to military pretensions however exorbitant, with another as a man, who secured by my situation from sharing the distress of the army, am inclined to treat it lightly. The truth is I am an unlucky honest man, that speak my sentiments to all and with emphasis. I say this to you because you know it and will not charge me with vanity. I hate Congress-I hate the army-I hate the world-I hate myself.The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you and Meade.

From Hamilton To John Laurens, Sept 12, 1780

This letter always makes me want to give Hamilton a hug.

Adieu, be happy, and let friendship between us be more than a name.

From Hamilton to John Laurens, Sept 16, 1780

Aww.

It is now a week my Betsey since I have heard from you. In that time I have written you twice. I think it will be adviseable in future to number our letters, for I have reason to suspect they do not all meet with fair play. This is number one.

From Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler, August 1780

This always makes me laugh out loud every time I come across it. He essentially told her “hey here’s my new filing system!”

I have received a letter from my Laurens solicitg an interview on the Pensylvania Boundary. The General has half consented to its taking place. I hope to be permitted to meet him; if so, I will go to Philadelphia and then you may depend, I shall not forget the picture you requested.

From Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler, [2-4, July, 1780]

This grabbed my attention for a couple reasons, but the biggest one is, did he ever get permission to meet Laurens? We don’t know.

Despite the fact that I ended up making this book longer than I’d planned, I did have fun re-reading and finding some of this for the first time. How does your outline process work? Anything exciting? The effort here wouldn’t tell you that my outline is literally just a bunch of bullet points 😂

[visxionaries]

who: @lucreziasredwyne​ where: highgarden, some days before departure to dorne

the atmosphere within the glistening beautiful paradise that was highgarden was entirely sombre, though it was the tension within the orbs of the nobles that truly felt like the blade slicing through the air; the mourning was something they could stand, something they knew would ease with time, and yet this tension of feeling as though they were caught between being the hunter and the hunted continued. there would be more of those who had supported him out there, more of those who had somehow shot the arrow that ledged itself into the throat of his only sister, and with that the pearl of highgarden was no more. 

he had hardly slept since it had happened, that which he was able to have plagued with visions of all those that had been left behind between the realms of men and the hereafter. those he felt he had utterly failed, looking upon him through a veil that was ultimately one of the gods and time itself. 

he refused to look upon the orbs of any his small council members for the first week, keeping in complete solitude in his chambers as he went through list after list of those belonging to each house, the darkest parts of his mind whispering that he needed to strike whilst he still could. that arrow had been meant for him, had it not, and in the end the bond of family had been his saviour. the bond of family would be the downfall of the man that had finally stepped too far into the scalding sun, and he would surely see him burn for it. eventually, he had met with lord garland hightower regarding state business and the economy that continued to go on, despite the emotional turmoil the court of highgarden had been thrown into by the assassination of their princess. 

that, and the news he had heard concerning a certain mistress of ships he had considered one of his closest for many a year, to the point she once was to become his own good sister, many moons ago. they had seen each other change and mature over the years, and whilst many had assumed their relationship was a carnal one, she had always been an exception to his ways; the gods had granted them something so utterly good, a bond that they shared with the rest of those closest to them. there was no way he would ever do anything to taint that.

and so, upon hearing the news that the lady of the arbor had ventured to the sept in the morning, cedric instead decided to wait in her chambers for the sept was no place for the man that was becoming a king of thorns himself. no gods would bring him to his knees, not when they were clearly so merciless and cruel to subject their children to such sickening and twisted games. when her silhouette appeared in the door, he slowly stood from the velvet chair he stood upon. 

“need i call you mistress now?” he asked, alluding to the clear rumours that had once again picked up regarding the pair. he paid no attention to them, for all in the reach and those closest to them knew the truth. 

the guilt had no doubt been etching away at her over the course of these weeks, hazel orbs tired and suffered; it was a sight that caused his heart to break, and how he would instead wish to see her eyes narrow at him in irritation as they once did. in a few strides, the man had crossed over to where she stood and wrapped his arms around her frame, an embrace that was one of comfort, of forgiveness and love in itself. “i can’t have you blaming yourself, lu.” he muttered into the top of her head, pulling away as he peered down at her from his towering figure. “i won’t.” 

[amimons]

Miraculous Sweet-ember (Sept. 29th)

September 29th: Ikari Gozen, Desperada, Startrain, &  Timetagger

Ikari Gozen started a friendship between Marinette and Kagami. After meeting Kagami she noticed how close she and Adrien have been getting and feared that her opportunity to be with Adrien would be hindered. Kagami’s exterior front was also a pretty cold one making it harder for Marinette to connect to her. So she was viewed as a rival until Friendship Day in Paris fixed that. Turns out much to her dismay that Marinette was paired up with Kagami for the treasure hunt and the idea made her nervous and uncomfortable. Kagami on the other hand was willing to get to know Marinette and form a new friendship. Forming relationships doesn’t come easy to Kagami because just like Adrien, she did not grow up in an environment with the opportunities to make friends. 

Throughout the treasure hunt, Kagami was earnestly trying to get to know Marinette but it came off as awkward and stoic. Marinette was determined to get away from Kagami and lose the treasure hunt since the prize was to get a picture with Adrien. It wasn’t until she learned that Kagami is friendless and trying to be genuine that she regrets her intentions. She even took care Tomoe when she called Kagami to figure out where she went off to. Marinette called herself a friend of Kagami which was great for Kagami but Marinette’s truthful answer lead to Tomoe getting akumatized. In season three one of the main things Marinette’s development was focusing on was how she handled her crush on Adrien and love rivals. She started as someone who felt threatened by Kagami to someone who felt she needed to connect with Kagami. She experience some real growth when she decided to friend Kagami and give her a miraculous. 

Desperada was a troubling ordeal for Adrien. At first, he believed it was a wonderful opportunity for Ladybug to get to knowingly work side by side with Adrien. He wanted a chance to impress and woo her and he felt very honored that Ladybug thought Adrien was capable of being a miraculous hero. Unfortunately, Adrien discovers that he was not best suited for the snake miraculous after many failed attempts. 25,913 attempts to be exact. No matter what he did, no matter the approach Ladybug was always met with the same fate. Adrien was so determined to prove that he was able to help Ladybug out that he has forgotten that he already plays an extremely vital role as Chat Noir. Taking Chat Noir out of the equation was not a good move. 

The way the miraculous work is that they are specifically suited for specific types of people. Both Ladybug and Adrien tried to fit Adrien into the role of the snake holder but it doesn’t align with Adrien at the end of the day (or end of the months in Aspiks case). Although it always ended in tragedy the Ladrien moments were very adorable in all the attempts we got to see. The scene where Adrien finally surrenders the snake miraculous had him open up to Ladybug in an emotional way. Something that Chat Noir has never done with Ladybug before making it one of the first times he was emotionally vulnerable around Ladybug (even though she didn’t know he was Chat). Chat made a habit of always jumping in front of Ladybug when danger is around but as Aspik he was unable to do so. It was also the first time that Adrien had to accept that he wasn’t the one needed to help his lady with the snake miraculous and even suggesting to hand it over to someone else. Adrien is used to having a lot of responsibilities placed onto himself but to feel comfortable to let go of one was pretty big for him.  

Startrain had the iconic scene where Adrien and Marinette nap together on the train ride over to London. Enough said. It's such a sweet moment between the two of them. Marinette rolled her head over on Adrien and that boy did not even hesitate to lean into Marinette and join her in napping. And the moment her head rested onto Adrien he smiles down at her. Then when Marinette woke up the first time when the commotion started on the train she saw exactly what happened while she was napping and usually Marinette immediately has an outburst of nervousness around Adrien but instead, she smiles and decided to continue resting. It's not often that we get a setting where we get to see them just enjoy each other's company comfortably so it was a welcome surprise before the akuma ruined it. 

For the other half of the train ride, they had to deal with Max’s mother being akumatized. What was interesting about her predicament was that the akuma wasn’t meant for her. It slipped away from Hawkmoth’s grasp after a failed attempt to akumatize Sabrina’s dad. The suitcase slipped on board via Sabrina’s suitcase and instantly went to Max’s mother as soon as she felt a big feeling disappointment. She sent the whole train off in space which meant not only did we get a zero-gravity fight but Hawkmoth was so far out of range from the akuma that he couldn’t control it. To get a scenario where Hawkmoth doesn’t have the ability to guide the akuma’s attacks brought a change in the usual formula. It was also high stakes for him once he learned his son was on board and he once again put Adrien in danger.  

Timetagger is Bunnix’s debut episode excepts its Bunnix from the future we meet. Future Alix is a time-traveling miraculous holder who has to come to her past to help defeat Time-Tagger. She can’t give too much away about the future which includes the status of our main heroes’ relationship status. That doesn’t mean she can’t mess with him by giving him a confusing answer. We also learned about potential future plotlines like Chat Noir accidentally damaging the bunny miraculous with cataclysm and Hawkmoth position being overthrown. There are so many exciting details about the future that our full of mystery that I’m looking forward to. 

Since Timetagger was sent from the future it meant that current Ladybug and Chat Noir weren’t as experience to handle the situation. That didn’t prevent Ladybug from being an all-star with her plan to take down the akuma. Her plan with her lucky charm was all about timing...only Ladybug could think of sending a message to her future self so the future heroes of Paris and destroy the item the akuma was in. In order for the plan to be successful Ladybug had to pretend to admit defeat convincing everyone that she was out of solutions. Chat didn’t fact Ladybug on her choice and went to go with her to hand over their miraculous but she made sure to through a reassuring wink in his direction. She had to make sure her and Chat’s placements where exact because she drew a map for their future selves to open up a portal to the spot Timetagger was standing. It was such a cool way to incorporate the current Ladybug and Chat Noir and their future selves as well as reassuring our beloved heroes are still on top of their game.  

About Sweet-ember:

For the month of September I wanted to spread some positivity and praise Miraculous Ladybug on the things I’ve appreciated/enjoyed from the show.

Everyday I’m going to select one particular moment, event, theme, etc. from an episode of Miraculous and shared what I liked from that episode. Each post will discuss 2-3 episodes (from season 1-3; 78 episodes in total).

Whether its something big or small there is something positive that I can take away from every single episode of Miraculous.

Please feel free to add a moment from these particular episodes that you loved to this post as well!

Salt towards the show, characters, ships will not be tolerated!

Sweet-ember posts

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

[18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

[pikapeppa]

Solavellan modern AU smut: Yes, Professor

It is what it sounds like: Professor Solas and Nare Lavellan finally give in to their forbidden desires. Needless to say, CW/TW: dubcon due to professor/student relationship, and TW for frank discussions about chronic pain during sex. Please pass go if these elements are not to your taste. ❤

This is from Chapter 23 of Inadvisable, the modern AU professor Solas fic I am lovingly working on with the incredibly talented @elbenherzart​! 

>13k words, so only an excerpt is here. Please check it out on AO3 for the whole chapter, including BEAUTIFUL and VERY explicit art. 😏

********************************

Nare Sat Sept 26 8:21 a.m. I’m on my way! Should be there just before 9!

Solas 8:21 a.m. Excellent. I’ll put on some coffee for you.

Nare 8:21 a.m. No tea?

Solas 8:21 a.m. Impertinent.

Nare 8:21 a.m. Just setting the tone for the day 😉

Solas 8:21 a.m. You are inviting considerable discipline, Nare.

Nare 8:21 a.m. Yes I am professor!

Nare grinned giddily and tucked her phone into her coat pocket as she hurried to the university. Once she got to the school, she’d call for a cab to take her to Solas’s apartment, which was about a twenty-minute drive from campus. She had told Tamaris and Athera last night that she’d be spending the day at the school’s art studio, since that was where Solas had started giving her oil painting lessons — never mind that those one-on-one lessons hadn’t started yet. 

Neither Tamaris nor Athera had questioned her, not that she expected them to; they had no reason to not believe her, and the fact that they’d believed her so easily made her feel a tiny pang of discomfort in her gut, almost like a kind of loneliness. It was strange not telling Tamaris and Athera about Solas, especially since he was consuming so much of her thoughts these days, but she was convinced that he was worth the secrecy and the trouble. 

She just hoped he would think she was worth the trouble too, once she told him about her pain problem. 

Her gut twisted with nerves and she walked a little faster, almost as though she could escape the nervousness if she walked fast enough. She occupied herself instead with thoughts of Solas: thoughts about his slow and sexy pacing, the way he rubbed his chin when he was thinking, the way his voice dropped to a bone-melting intimate purr when he was telling her about his dreams… 

The way he kissed her against the door in his office, pressing his knee between her legs and bringing his lips to hers so slowly, so fucking slowly until she felt like her heart was going to bang its way out of her rib cage.

A ripple of heat bloomed in her abdomen and made its way up to her cheeks. She wanted him to kiss her again like that so badly. She had never been kissed like that in her entire life. The way Solas had taken his time, hovering his lips so carefully over hers before actually kissing her… 

Fuck, she was getting wet just thinking about it. She couldn’t wait to see him again. 

A few minutes later, she was settled in a cab on her way to his apartment, but the enforced stillness of sitting in a car seemed to give her nerves the opportunity they needed to sneak back in and haunt her. For all her outrageous flirting with Solas and the way she’d begged him so shamelessly to fuck her, the fact still remained that Nare hadn’t had sex in years, all because it had been so painful and pleasureless that she couldn’t be bothered. 

She’d tried so many things to fix the problem: going to the doctor (who ran tests and found nothing wrong), trying prescription creams (which didn’t work), and seeing a sex therapist for a couple of sessions. But some of the therapist’s suggestions were ones that Nare couldn’t really try without a partner — and Nare had never been able to trust any partner with this terrible truth, so that hadn’t worked out either.

Then there was her sleeping-around phase, where she’d seduced and slept with a handful of guys in quick succession in the hopes that one of them would help her find the desire she wanted so badly to feel but that always seemed to elude her. Unfortunately, the sleeping-around phase had backfired. The pain remained with every guy she had sex with, which made her less horny with every attempt at sex, and her anticipation of the pain just made everything worse. The last time she’d tried to have sex with someone, she hadn’t even been able to grit her teeth and bear it. She’d left his place in humiliation and cried on her way home, and that was the last time she had bothered trying to have sex with anyone. 

That was the legacy of difficulty that she was bringing to Solas today. 

Her stomach felt snarled with nerves. She wrapped her arms around her middle and tried to focus on everything about Solas that was good — his voice, his patience, the warmth of his smile, the sweet words that he texted to her — but it was no good: her anxiety had taken residence in her gut, and all she could think about now was disappointing him. How would he react when she told him she had pain during sex? Would he think she’d been misleading him with her flirting and her begging? What if it hurt when he tried to fuck her? Would he give up on her? 

How horrible would it be if she was this horny for Solas, this turned on by him, but still wasn’t able to have sex with the only person she had ever really wanted?

The endless minutes of the drive ticked by, and Nare sat silently in the back seat stewing in a sickening mixture of anxiety and anticipation. By the time she was standing in the foyer of Solas’s building and pressing his number into the keypad, she was literally trembling. 

The buzzing-in system rang once. Then there was a click. “Hello?”

Solas. His calm, smooth voice seemed to sink straight through her skin, helping her to breathe more easily. “It’s me,” she said. 

“Please, come in,” he said, and the door clicked as he unlocked it remotely. 

Nare let herself in and hurried to the elevator. She pushed the button for the 11th floor and tried to breathe slowly as the elevator made its smooth ascent. By the time she was making her way down the hall to Solas’s apartment, she was fairly confident that she looked calm, even if she still felt jittery.

She nervously smoothed a hand over her hair, then knocked on his door. A second later, the door opened, and her heart thumped in her throat.

He was smiling, and he was beautiful. He was dressed very casually: loose drawstring linen pants, a soft fitted v-neck t-shirt, and bare feet. For some reason, his bare feet especially made her smile.

“Good morning, Nare,” he said, and he stood back to let her in. “Come in.”

Creators, his voice was so warm and welcoming, like sinking into a hot bath. She beamed at him as she stepped inside. “Good morning, professor,” she said playfully. “I like your feet.”

His eyebrows rose. “My feet?”

She let out a little laugh. “I’ve never seen your bare feet before. They’re nice feet.” She patted her cheeks, feeling both stupid and elated. Now that she was here with him, she was still feeling nervous, but a good kind of nervous — a surreal kind of nervous, like she was living in a fantasy. 

His lips curled at the corners with humour. “That’s a compliment I have never had before, but thank you. Please, make yourself comfortable — I’ll take your coat.” He quirked an eyebrow as he helped her with her coat. “Feel free to let your feet be free as well.”

She laughed again, feeling more relaxed already as she took off her ankle boots. “That’s okay, I think I’ll keep my socks on. They’re the only thing keeping my legs warm.”

He finished hanging her coat in the hall closet, then turned back to face her. “I imagine that’s the case,” he said, and his eyes dropped to her legs — legs that were partly bare, thanks to the gap between her skirt and her above-the-knee socks. 

His gaze lingered on the bare skin of her thighs, and something warm throbbed to life between her legs. When his eyes returned to her face, his lips were quirked with a hint of mischief. “Were you not cold on the way?” he asked.

She grinned, giddy with humour and heat. “No, actually. It’s pretty warm out for a late September day.”

“That’s fortunate,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” she said.

His smile widened slightly, but he didn’t speak, and Nare stared at him with a rising restlessness. There was something about the way he was looking at her, the confident angle of his head and the way he was standing there so casually in his tight t-shirt and his comfortable bare feet, that made her want to strip right here on the spot. 

Before she could find her tongue to say anything else — a plea, a cheeky remark, anything — he stepped back and gestured for her to follow him. “Come. Let me show you around,” he said. “The kitchen is straight through here; you should help yourself to whatever you like while you’re here. The living room is through there…”

He led her through the main rooms of his apartment: a narrow kitchen that opened at both ends into the main area and at the back onto a tidy little balcony, a huge open-plan living area that was informally sectioned into a dining space and a living room-slash-office space, and a separate smaller room off of the living area that was outfitted with blackout curtains, a couch and a flat-screen TV. The east-facing end of the living area boasted floor-to-ceiling windows across the entire wall, lighting the whole apartment with a lovely wash of morning light and showing off Solas’s simple but elegant decor: comfortable but un-fussy couches and armchairs in dark neutral colours, dark wood furniture and shelving, cozy area rugs scattered strategically on the hardwood floors, and lamps instead of overhead lights. It was a lovely mirroring of his office decor, actually, and Nare felt herself relaxing even further at the familiarity. 

He finished the small tour near the TV room. “There is a bathroom back near the front door, and another down the hall that leads to the bedroom.”

Her tummy flipped at the mention of his bedroom. She shot him a coy look. “Are you going to show me your bedroom next?”

He smiled faintly. “I’ll take you there when I think you are ready.”

A thump of lust pulsed between her legs. I’m ready now, she thought eagerly, but he was padding away to the kitchen. “I will bring you some coffee,” he called over his shoulder. “You drink it black, correct?”

“Yep,” she said. She wandered curiously through his living area, looking at his heavily-laden bookshelves and admiring his selection of knick-knacks. It looked like he collected small vases from different cultures and casts of animal skulls, and Nare enjoyed the private little peeks into his life that his trinkets afforded. 

By the time he returned with a mug of coffee for her, she had made her way over to the western end of the living room, where the wall boasted three paintings: two rich abstract landscapes that Nare recognized as being Solas’s work, which flanked a third painting in a lush realistic style by a different artist. 

He offered her the mug, and she took it with a smile. “Who’s the artist who did this piece?” she asked. 

“This is by Felassan,” Solas said. 

Nare’s eyes widened. “Felassan did this?”

“Yes,” Solas said. “It is one of six that he did for the final project of his fine arts degree. It shows wisdom and pride.”

“Wisdom and pride?” Nare said. She looked at the piece again, and she instantly saw what he meant. The painting showed two figures: a beautiful androgynous elf who was kneeling at the base of an enormous pile of books and poring through a tome, and a bizarre twisted figure who was standing at the top of the pile. The figure at the top appeared to be lecturing the elf at the bottom, but the pile of books was tottering perilously beneath the figure’s feet, making it seem as though the lecturer would fall to their demise at any moment.

She admired the work for a moment, then let out a little laugh. “It’s a bit of an attack, isn’t it? On people who think they know everything?”

“You see that clearly, do you?” he said wryly. “The panel who judged Felassan’s final project were not very pleased about the inherent commentary.” 

“That’s why you like it, isn’t it?” she teased. 

Solas chuckled. “Perhaps. Felassan and I don’t share the same opinions on everything, but we do agree that many of our artistic colleagues could stand to be shaken from the towers of their own prideful preconceptions.” He folded his arms and thoughtfully studied the piece. “It is a good reminder of the value of humility. That even the wisest person can be struck low by their own foolishness.”

Nare studied his profile with a pang. His expression was calm and not at all sad, but she couldn't help but remember the texted conversation they’d had last night, about keeping this a secret from the people that mattered most to them both.

“Do you think you’re being foolish?” she asked.

He looked her in the eye. “I know I am,” he said. “And you know that you are being foolish, too.”

Her belly jolted with anxiety. “But you still… You still want me to be here, right?”

His expression softened. Then, to her surprise, he reached out and trailed his knuckles along the angle of her jaw. “I can think of nothing I want more than to have you here right now,” he said softly.

Nare stared at him with her heart in her mouth. The touch of his hand on her jaw was infinitely gentle, but the flood of sensation it triggered in her body was so intense that it stopped her breath. 

His thumb brushed over her chin, just a whisper away from her lower lip, and Nare dragged in a tremulous breath. Then Solas’s gaze dropped to the floor just behind her.

A smile lit his face, and he lowered his hand from her jaw. “Turn around,” he said quietly. “Someone would like to meet you.”

She swallowed hard, then dumbly turned around. Peering warily around the corner of the kitchen doorway was a beautiful tawny-coloured cat with a black face and ears, black paws, and sky-blue eyes. 

Nare smiled despite her thwarted lust. “Is this Fenor?” she said. 

“This is Fenor,” he confirmed. 

“Oh, she’s so pretty,” Nare enthused. She handed Solas her cup of coffee, then kneeled on the floor and made a kissing noise. “Hi Fenor,” she crooned. “Come here.” 

The cat stared at her, and Nare smiled and held out one hand. “Come here, baby,” she said softly. “It’s okay.” 

Fenor eyed her stonily for a moment longer, then eventually came out of the kitchen with her tail held low, and Nare sat very still as Fenor approached her. The cat cautiously sniffed her fingers, and when she finally rubbed her face against Nare’s fingers, Nare gently scratched Fenor’s chin. 

Fenor leaned her head into the scratch, and Nare smiled. “Oh good,” she said to Solas. “If your cat didn’t like me, I think I’d have to leave.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you understand the pecking order in this apartment. She is the real ruler here, not I.”

Nare grinned and continued to scratch Fenor’s chin and neck until Fenor wandered away with her tail held high. She looked up at Solas with a smile, and her heart banged in her chest as she realized the position she was in: kneeling on the floor by Solas’s feet — a close approximation of one of her fondest fantasies. If she just turned around on her knees so she was facing him, so his cock was at her eye level… 

Then Solas reached down and ran his palm gently over her hair. 

She froze. A flood of icy warmth trickled down her spine, and once again, she found herself speechless, stunned by his gesture and by the intensity of her body’s own reaction to it. His gentle hand on her head, smoothing over her hair in a tender gesture: there was nothing inherently dominant about what he’d just done, but with Nare on her knees like this, she was seized with the sudden urge to beg. To do whatever he told her to do, to say ‘yes, professor’ until he gave her everything she had never been able to admit before that she wanted… 

“Come, Nare,” he said softly, and he held out his hand. “I’ll show you my studio.”

She didn’t want to see his studio. She wanted him to bend her over one of the nice couches in his living room and push up her skirt with his beautiful artist’s hands.

Mind muddled and slowed by lust, she took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She followed him wordlessly past the kitchen toward a hallway that led to the western end of the apartment, and her heart thumped again. The hall ended in a room with a slightly-ajar door that had to be Solas’s bedroom. Was he… maybe he was taking her to his bedroom instead?

Her stomach flipped with hope — and, admittedly, a bit of nerves — but Solas didn’t lead her to the end of the hall. Instead, he led her into the first room on the left.

His studio was not as large as she’d expected, but it was professionally lit and comfortable-looking. The room boasted one open easel with two others folded at the side, a drawing table that was covered with a dropcloth, a long table covered in painting supplies and equipment, and a few bookshelves. 

Solas pointed at one such shelf. “There is the infamous pile of my sketches,” he said drolly.

She looked where he was pointing, and a hint of amusement pierced through her distracting desire. She padded over to the bookshelf, which was strewn not just with cardstock sketches, but with old journals and magazines and a smattering of art supplies. 

She pulled out a sketch at random, and her eyebrows rose in genuine appreciation. It was a sketch of one of his murals — the only one that he had ever done here in Orlais. “Wow,” she breathed, and she looked up at him. “Solas, you should really file these. This is worth hundreds of dollars.”

He huffed and ran a hand over his scalp. “I would not sell such works. They’re for my records only.”

“Well, you’re not keeping your records very well,” she scolded.

He chuckled. “I can just imagine Athera nodding along with you.”

Nare barked out a little laugh. “Not even. She would seriously have a heart attack if she saw this shelf.” She turned back to the shelf and began picking carefully through his sketches, and with every sketch she saw, she felt more and more like her heart was swelling with affection and admiration both. Mural studies, landscape studies, sketches of Fenor with a special focus on the texture of her fur, studies of skeletons both animal and humanoid, quick and messy sketches of fantastical creatures and odd twisted figures …

She brushed her fingers lovingly over a sketch of a surreal landscape of floating stairways and arches, interspersed with stylized trees. “Is this a dreamscape?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he said. “It is also a study I drew in preparation for a mural.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “You made this into a mural? Where is it?”

He smiled faintly. “In my bedroom.”

His bedroom. His bedroom which had to be that room at the end of the hall, just a few steps away… 

“Can I see it?” she blurted. “The mural in your bedroom?” She didn’t care anymore how desperate or impatient she sounded; she wanted him, his lips and his hands and his cock that she could see as a tempting bulge in his soft linen pants, and she’d had enough of waiting. 

“Not yet,” he said, to her dismay. “You need to be patient.”

“But I’ve been patient,” she complained. “I waited for two whole days and I didn’t ask to see your bedroom right away when I got here.”

A broad smile lit his face. “You think it is patience to wait for ten minutes before asking me to see my bedroom?”

“It’s been more than ten minutes,” she said defensively. “It’s been like twenty.”

He gave her an arch look. “You are being very mouthy, Nare.”

Yes, she thought excitedly; he was starting to sound a little stern now. She widened her eyes coyly. “What are you going to do about it?” she asked.

He tilted his head chidingly. “I will have to discipline you, unfortunately.”

She swallowed hard, riled anew by his enticing threat. “How are you going to do that?” she asked breathily.

“By teaching you patience, among other things,” he said. “I’ll do that by making you wait. To that end, you won’t be seeing my bedroom anytime soon.”

Among other things? she thought with a fresh wrench of want. What kinds of ‘other things’ was he going to do to discipline her? “But…” 

He tilted his head chidingly, and her belly hopped with lust. What was the best way to make him kiss her? Should she defer to him, or should she provoke him?

She decided on provocation. “What if making me wait isn’t discipline enough?” she asked.

He studied her in silence for a moment, then clasped his hands behind his back. “Nare,” he said quietly.

He was starting to sound really stern now. “Yes?” she said.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, and she deferentially dropped her gaze. “Yes, professor?”

“Come closer,” he said.

Oh gods, when he sounded so bossy like this… Her groin pulsed with heat, and she hastened over to stand in front him. Once she was standing in front of him, he lifted his chin and slowly inspected her body.

She shifted restlessly under his assessing gaze. She was fully dressed, but the way his eyes were sliding over her in this slow and lingering way made her feel as though she was naked. By the time his eyes returned to her face, her heart was throbbing between her legs, and Solas was smirking.

“Why are you laughing at me?” she complained. 

His smile widened slightly. “Because I am fairly certain that making you wait will be punishment enough,” he told her. Then, finally, he lifted his hand cradled her cheek in his palm. 

She closed her eyes and turned her face toward his hand. He brushed his thumb over her lips, then suddenly gripped her chin. 

She gasped. “Please,” she blurted.

He lifted her chin. “Please what?” he said quietly. 

“Please, professor,” she begged. “Please kiss me.”

He studied her for another torturous moment until she was practically vibrating with impatience. When he released her chin to slid his fingers around the nape of her neck, her lips parted on a tiny gasp. 

“Solas, please,” she whimpered.

“Patience,” he murmured. He lowered his face to hers, brushing his nose gently over her cheekbone and hovering his lips over hers in a torturously careful way. Right when Nare was about to beg him again, he finally kissed her.

Read the rest of the chapter on AO3!

[letshaikyuu]

ᑎO ᖴᒪOᗯEᖇᔕ ᗯEᖇE ᗷᒪOOᗰIᑎG (ᗩKᗩᗩᔕᕼI KEIᒍI ᔕᑕEᑎᗩᖇIO)

Synopsis: Akaashi and you were childhood crushes that got separated when you moved away. Social media was never enough to fill the void. What will Akaashi do when you come back and one of his teammates seems to have a crush on you?

A/N: I am not very skilled in writing scenarios so bear with me here. It’s also a female reader insert, sorry boys :(

Word count: 2522

No flowers were blooming in spring anymore for Akaashi Keiji. He was making towards the school grounds like it was just any other day. It was just another dull start to his second year of high school without you by his side. Akaashi would never forget the time you two picked flowers for your flower crowns that one spring day, mere days before school was supposed to start and you were to crouch into new school adventures. It felt like any other ordinary day outside while your mothers were sipping some tea inside the house. But, Keiji was not unfamiliar with emotions and facial expressions, even at a young age he was able to differentiate different emotions even though people tried hiding them. You were nowhere near the happy and cheerful girl that filled the silence with your childish glee and laughter. You were so quiet.

»»---------------------►

"Keiji..."

A whisper that would have been hard to hear for many, but Keiji knew your voice by heart. Looking up, his eyes were fixed on the tears filling up your eyes that were dangerously close to falling. Keiji was never the one to show much emotion or care, but this situation didn't fail to angrily burn his heart. What was going on?

Your next words burned his already aching heart even more as you let your tears freely fall down your face. Keiji didn't move. You didn't have the heart to wait for his reply so Keiji was left alone, eyes locking on your running figure that found comfort into your mother's arms. You two left soon after. Keiji was still sitting on his knees in the garden. Your neatly made flower crown on the ground was beside him and fallen apart. Was this happening?

"Keiji...I'm leaving Japan tomorrow."

»»---------------------►

The first day of school was over and he was already tired. He wanted to go back home and close himself off from the outside world for a few hours. Grab his phone and go through his gallery. Besides the huge amount of Bokuto's selfies on his phone, here and there a screenshot from his social media accounts popped up. Keiji was never the one for social media. It was a waste of time, he would say. What was the point in endlessly scrolling and looking through profiles of people you probably don't even know? But Keiji does have social media. It wasn't his choice. His mother bought him a newer phone shortly after you moved away. "So you can stay in touch even when she's so far away," his mother said to him when she gave him the phone and ruffled his hair, "there's no point in giving up, is there Keiji?"

That is how Keiji tried to stay in contact with you. You easily found each other on social media and he was glad you still wanted to talk to him. At first, your messages were frequent and filled with stories about your new school and friends. There wasn't a moment to put away your phone cause the messages kept coming. Keiji would merely reply with a "that's nice" and "hope you're liking it there", but he always read them all with a sad smile on his face. You seemed to fit in well with the people there. Keiji always admired you for that. It was you who decided to befriend this quiet, little boy in the house beside yours when you were little. He will never admit how much he appreciated you for that.

The worst part is that Keiji started developing a crush on you. He tried to talk himself out of it by seeing it was normal to have such feelings at a young age and that they will evaporate as he grows older. But they never did. You were becoming more and more beautiful as the days and seasons went by and Keiji couldn't wrap his head around what was happening with him. That little crush of his didn't go unnoticed. His mother figured it out very quickly and never failed to embarrass Keiji whenever he announced he was going out to play with you.

"You'll make a fine gentleman one day Keiji. Don't you forget that."

Unconsciously, he smiled at his mother's words as he entered the hot gym. The sounds of volleyball hitting the ground were enough to snap him out of his thoughts and refocus at the task at hand. He had practice. Bokuto Koutarou was loudly yelling at his kouhai and teasing him about how he's late and he was to do extra laps at the end of the training. The rest of the team chuckled at his words because there was no way Bokuto was going to stick to that.

"I apologize Bokuto-san. It won't happen again." Akaashi's words cut through the once cheerful atmosphere like a knife as he walked towards the locker room to change. Bokuto looked at the figure of his best friend that was soon lost with the door closing behind him. He was named captain for a reason. Bokuto Koutarou, no matter the excessive amounts of mood swings he has, knows when something is going on...and in Akaashi's case, he had quite a good guess as to what is bothering him.

When Keiji stepped foot on the court and started playing, there was no doubt in Bokuto's mind that his bad performance was caused by overflowing thoughts in his head. There was no beating around the bush in this situation, especially when the others knew about this.

"Oi Akaashi." His voice was rather serious for someone who's usually so cheerful and filled with positive energy. Keiji knew where this was leading to and he was dreading every second of it. "Isn't Y/N coming back soon?"

There it was. The ever-so sensitive topic to Akaashi Keiji. How Bokuto found out was still a mystery to him, but it was futile to hide anything from his curious senpai. He didn't mind. It was something that was in the past and there was no need to run away from it. Or at least that's how Keiji wanted his feelings to be portrayed. The ball that was being held in his hand was tossed back in with the others in the trolley as Keiji called it a day. The practice was soon to be over anyway. His teammates, especially the senpais, knew him well enough to know when Keiji is done with something so they didn't want to meddle. But meddling was Bokuto Koutarou's middle name.

"Akaashi I'm-"

"There is no need to apologize Bokuto-san. I am doing just fine and there is no guarantee that Y/N is coming back." Keiji knew he was lying, but the way those words effortlessly came out of his mouth made him think otherwise. He has told himself this lie over and over again that it sounded like the truth.

Back home, Keiji took out his phone to scroll through his gallery. He knew by heart where those screenshots of your conversations were. He started looking at them.

»»---------------------► Sept. 12th

"Heeeeey Keiji I just saw this cool painting of flowers the other day! I remember how much you loved hydrangeas! They always made your eyes pop heh"

"That sounds nice Y/N"

"You know I always think of my best friend Keiji ;)"

"Of course I do. I do the same"read 11:17pm

»»---------------------► Dec. 17th

"Hey...is everything alright there? We haven't talked in a while...I know we're both busy, but let's not let that stop us from talking!"

"Don't worry about that, but I have to go now. Sorry."

"Oh...that's okay...Take care Keiji"

"You too."read 10:47pm

»»---------------------►Feb. 8th

"Akaashi guess what! I'm moving back to Japan this year!! I can't wait to see you, I missed you so much..."seen 00:23am

»»---------------------►

Keiji would be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat when he saw your last text message. He didn't know how to feel. That childish glee he felt years before, while you were still here, warmed his heart and he didn't know how to react. The memories of your childhood adventures made him smile in remembrance, but was he ready for this? Were flowers blooming again in his heart?

»»---------------------►

The following day had an eerie feeling to it. Keiji wasn't sure what was happening, but it felt odd. He felt odd. Like there was a nest of angry crows battling inside of him. His head was hurting as well. Walking towards the gym, he felt as if he would pass out at any moment. Were you moving back to Japan? In the back of his mind, Keiji knew that neither his heart or his head was ready to see you again and confront you about his feelings. Maybe you were leaving a boyfriend behind. Maybe you even found a loving girlfriend. You were probably heartbroken that you had to leave your friends and move back here at such age. Was it necessary to list all the bad things about mo-

"Keiji?"

Just like a flower's bloom in spring, Keiji's heart fluttered at the sound of such a sweet and loving tone. To some, it was just an everyday voice that you could hear everywhere. To Keiji, it was a bird's chirp, a kid's giggle, a heart's warmth. There was no doubt in his mind that it was you.

"Y/N?" His eyes looked up and in the crowd of tall figures, he easily spots you. You grew up into a beautiful girl. Your face matured and so did your body. But your eyes...your eyes still held that mischievousness and happiness they had years ago when Keiji saw them filled with tears. That was a sight that haunted him for years as it was the last time Keiji saw you before your move. He couldn't have you walking out on him at the airport, your small body growing further and further away. It was a big bite to swallow for little Keiji.

But here you were, looking as beautiful as ever...with Konoha's arm over your shoulder? What even-

"Omg Keiji it's really you!" You smiled widely at the sight of your childhood friend, but your feet were planted firmly to where you were standing. You two kind of drifted apart these past few months, there was no doubt about it. He didn't even read your last message to him and you were so excited about moving back and possibly confessing to him. Would it be too much to run to him and hug him tightly? To feel all the emotions begging to be released on the surface as his arms tighten around you?

"Would it be that bad to feel your love again?"

»»---------------------►

There was no way in hell that Keiji was going to let you date Konoha. There was no problem with him or if he had a girlfriend, but it was not going to be you. It was official. You moved back to Japan for what seems forever, you were in Fukurodani and Konoha Akinori had a crush on you. Akaashi Keiji was jealous. That too was official.

Unfortunately for Keiji, you became close friends with the team so you frequented coming to practice a lot. Although the awkward silence that filled the gym whenever you and Keiji were in the same room wasn't easy to ignore, the team tried to let you two clear the air by yourselves. And no, Konoha did not have a crush on you, but he did have a plan. Make Akaashi so jealous that he has to confess to you to move on! That's right, Fukurodani does not meddle.

Konoha was pushing his limits very much and Keiji's tolerance was reaching a big, fat zero very fast. It wasn't until he bluntly asked you out on a date that Akaashi felt like waiting longer would mean losing you forever. Storming out of the gym with your forearm in his grasp, Keiji left the gym with a smirking Konoha behind.

"Akaashi- What is wrong with you!?" You pulled your arm out of his grip and stood your ground. "Who gave you the right to pull me out of there like that!?"

You were prepared with an onslaught of comments regarding his unusual behavior, but you bit your tongue. Why was he fuming in rage? There could've easily been steam coming out of his ears. But your words made him even angrier and sadder. What happened to calling him Keiji? To teasing him about how much you found his name gorgeous and fitting for such a guy like himself? You always brought a smile on his face whenever his name left your lips. Now, it was nowhere to be heard of.

He tried to calm himself down, but the years of keeping quiet and not having you around were too much for him to keep his usual calm demeanor. Turning around, he took a deep breath before opening his eyes to look at your shocked face. Taking a cautious step forwards, he took hold of your hands before continuing.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted Y/N back there. I'm also sorry for letting us drift apart." His mellow voice sounded out into the quiet, night background. There was no one in sight and Keiji felt it was easier to voice out his thoughts. "You can't imagine how much I missed you and wanted you to come back to me."

Tears were brimming in your eyes again, but this team Keiji was there to handle them when they fall.

"I love you Y/N...I did when we were kids and I...I still do now." His hand moved to wipe the stray tear slowly trickling down your face and he was quick to pull you into a hug. He was not letting you run away from him this time.

"Keiji w-why didn't you say anything before?"

He chuckled and that wonderful sound was music to your ears. "We were just kids back then. Nothing would've changed you moving away, wouldn't it?"

Keiji knew he was right. He may have doubted his decision before, but now it felt like it was the right thing to have waited this long. In the end, you were in his arms as both of you have already wanted and there was no doubt in his mind that this was exactly where you belong.

"You know what Keiji..," you moved away from his chest and lovingly took hold of his face. You couldn't have even dreamed about Keiji growing up into someone this handsome and beautiful. It was better than any painting your eyes saw of hydrangeas that reminded you of him. This in front of you, was a true piece of art. And you were happy to call it yours.

"I love you too Keiji...ever since we were kids."

No flowers were blooming in spring for Akaashi Keiji. Now, flowers were blooming in every season. In spring they were at their peak. In summer they were constantly with him and keeping him company. In autumn they would slowly start falling asleep and in winter there has always been this one flower that survived the harsh weather and snow that keeps blooming only for him. And that flower will always be you.

[imo-chan-imagines]

『 Haikyuu!! Week 2020 | Day 4 』

· Sept. 28th → Connect ·

Characters: Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime

Prompts: A. favourite pair/duo B. childhood friends

Tags/warnings: Haikyuu!! (anime), PG, fluff, crack, childhood friends, headcanons, HaikyuuWeek2020

A/N: Technically~ Kageyama and Hinata are my favourite pair, but I just had to do childhood headcanons for Oikawa and Iwa-chan~!! Bokuto and Akaashi were on my list, and Kuroo and Kenma too, and so many others. But honestly, there's just too many great duos, it's basically impossible to pick 😭🤧

All my Haikyuu Week 2020 posts are SFW, but I have NSFW stuff on my blog if that's more your jam. Feel free to check that stuff out! Thanks for reading 🙏 and enjoy! Imo~

☆ Oikawa & Iwaizumi / childhood friends ☆

Oikawa and Iwaizumi lived next door as children and, as a result, ended up playing together all the time

Iwa was quite energetic and boisterous as a child and often played too roughly with Oikawa

Which made Oikawa pouty, bursting into tears on a regualr basis

But Iwa didn't actually mean to hurt him, so he always ended up trying to cheer him up by bringing him stuff like frogs and shiny stones

But when Iwa put the frog in his hands, it just made him cry even harder

RIP Iwa-chan 😭😭

Iwa cottoned on pretty quickly and soon learned how to tell if Oikawa was genuinely upset or if he just wanted attention

Whenever he figured out that Oikawa was overreacting on purpose, he ignored him, thinking it childish lmao, Iwa. You were children

When it was hot, Iwa's mum would cut them slices of cold watermelon to munch on

And Oikawa would spit the seeds at Iwa when he was upset with him

Iwa often ended up pushing Oikawa on the swings in the park because Oikawa just would not stop asking until he did

Iwa was much bigger and stronger than him, so it kind of made sense

Oikawa loved being pushed high enough to see just over the neighborhood. It felt like he was flying~

Iwa was a natural on the monkey bars and climbing wall while Oikawa was… not

Oikawa always ended up with lots of cuts and grazes trying to keep up with Iwa he freaking hates losing, you know

But because Oikawa was genuinely trying rather than pouting his way to victory, Iwa would help the sniffling boy up and take him inside to get patched up

Despite their differences, they became very attached to each other

Oikawa would follow Iwa around everywhere, holding his hand Tooru, my heart 😭😭

When they got introduced to volleyball together by the their parents, Oikawa was immediately entranced by it

Sparkly eyes, flushed cheeks, excited smile. The whole lot

Iwa played and practiced with him because it made Oikawa happy mah heart but eventually, he was playing because he really enjoyed it too

They looked adorable in their little uniforms can you imagine? 😭😭

When one of them was sick and they weren't allowed to see each other, they'd play games and talk together in secret through the gap in the fence until one of them had to go in for dinner so cute T T

By the time they started going to school, Iwa had a habit of ruffling Oikawa's hair as a way of saying, 'You did good' before Tooru cared about his hair, lmao

It always made Oikawa beam mah heart

Their teachers always commented to their parents on how close they were

Even from a young age, Oikawa was popular with the girls, with half of the girls in his class all 'dating' him at once they're, like, 6. So it's not really dating

But the girls were all still jealous of how close he was with Iwa-chan

When they got a little older, some of them could be really bitchy about it to Iwa, but Oikawa would have none of it tell 'em, king 😌👑

He'd find some way to smooth it all over so that they left Iwa alone, but didn't put their noses out of joint, because he wanted everyone to get along probably agreed to go out with them on the weekend, or something

Literally all of them at once. Like, seven girls in a gaggle around him as they walk around a shopping mall 😅

But there was a line, and if people crossed it, you could say goodbye to Mr. Nice Guy but that basically never happened

Iwa-chan would win every single arm wrestling contest through middle school and high school, even against his seniors we stan a stronk boi

Oikawa would place bets on it with his classmates, relishing the collection of his winnings when Iwa won which was every time

The winnings were usually pocket money or milk bread from the cafeteria

Eventually, people in his year stopped betting because they realised Iwa was never going to lose so Oikawa started betting with his poor, unsuspecting underclassmen 😭😭

And Iwa would demand half of the winnings

Iwa-chan: Thats right. My half. I did half the work, I get half the booty.

Bonus points if you get that reference

Oikawa probably started calling him 'Iwa-chan' as an annoying, sarcastic nickname, because Iwaizumi's just that effortlessly masculine, and the idea was funny to Oikawa

But Iwa eventually gave up telling him to stop and it just... sort of... stuck?

But Iwa doesn't even really dislike it anymore?? That's friendship for you

They definitely seem like an odd pair on the surface

But there's a lot of history and a deep emotional connection that other people just don't get

Truth 🙌 Read it, heed it, preach it

© imo-chan-imagines 2020

[januarywren]

I have a major soft spot for theonsa and wrote a little drabble for them! I posted it on Ao3 and I’ll post it below too. Thank you for reading! ✌💙

-

“Do you see how blue her eyes are?” Sansa asked, cradling their daughter against her breast.

Theon lay behind his wife, allowing her to rest against his chest. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he hid a smile, as he kissed the top of her head. “Tully blue,” he murmured.

Both were enraptured with their daughter, named Catelyn after the mother that Sansa had so dearly loved. “She has your nose, I think,” Sansa said softly, and Theon felt his heart stutter inside his chest, "And your pretty curls."

Neither of them, the Queen in the North nor her loyal Hand reflected on the night that that saw the creation of their daughter. Theon swallowed thickly, his eyes closing as memories came unbidden to him.

He was Reek then, and Sansa -

Sansa was Ramsay's wife and had suffered as no other woman had. Towards the end, Ramsay had delighted at forcing her to lie with the man she'd once considered a brother, the man that had betrayed her family and now knelt at the feet of her cruel master, her husband, who often laid with her too.

Ramsay had never gone through on his threat to castrate Reek, and Sansa had confessed that she was pregnant shortly after Ramsay’s death. Only they both knew the last time that she had laid with them both, and there was a possibility, a chance –

Of something that Sansa couldn’t ever consider, nor begin to accept -

“Theon?”

He blinked, immediately loosening his grip on his wife’s nightgown. She never knew a harsh word from him nor the cut of his hand. He cherished her beyond reason, the sight of the winter queen and her consort walking hand in hand, a frequent sight amidst Winterfell’s court. They often had private moments together, whether in their chambers or the sept, and none but Catelyn’s nurse would disturb them.

They both lavished love upon their daughter, as the halls of Winterfell came alive once more. Sansa was a natural as a mother, though she often had to reassure Theon when their daughter sneezed or fell when she attempted to toddle toward them, on her unsteady feet. She was the fruit of their love, the testament to the close relationship between them.

And there were nights still when Theon took Sansa gently in their bed, and she whispered in his ear that she dreamed of more children. She wanted a family once more; the rest of the Starks gone and buried, all but Jon who lived beyond the Wall, after the death of the Dragon Queen.

“She’s beautiful,” he said, glancing down at their daughter. She had the beginning of dark locks, ones as curly as his own, while she inherited her mother’s docile nature. “And she’s ours.”

Sansa nodded, and he knew that she was pleased.

Happy, even.

"I'll always keep her safe," he added, and Sansa tilted her head up toward him. She pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw as if she knew the direction of his thoughts. "No," she said lightly, yet as seriously and earnestly as if she was praying to the Stranger. “We both will, my love. We’ll keep her safe, and never allow her to suffer as we have,” and Theon knew she spoke the truth.

[fulfillinglife2021]

My Full Truth

I’m sorry that I have always been such a lousy partner in my relationships.

Carissa, we were together from 2003 to 2008.  I cheated on you 3 times.  Once with Collette in 2006, once with Linda in 2007, and once with Crystal in 2008. I am remarkably sorry for my behavior.  I was a dumb, young, cheating asshole.  I lacked maturity in every sense of the word.  I didn’t understand what true loyalty meant in a relationship.  Although I kept my actions a secret, I know that I hurt you.  I deserve your ire, even though you never knew to express it.  I regret my actions, and one day, I hope to have he courage to tell you, and ask for your forgiveness.

—- Crystal, we met in late 2008 and I was infatuated with you from that very first moment.  I never cheated on you, but I was still inexperienced when it came to understanding, and expressing my love, and my sexuality.  I am sorry that I came on so strong, and scared you away.  you left me in early 2009, and I made it so much worse after the fact.  I dragged your name through the mud in a form of petty revenge for the heartache you caused me.  I am so sorry if that had long-standing effects on your life. —- Alexis, we weren’t together for a particularly long time, from May 2009 till August 2009.  I knew from our 2nd date that you and I werent going to mesh well.  But I decided to play along, and make you believe we were an element.  You had gotten me a job when I needed one, and I was afraid that if I broke up with you, I’d lose my job as well.  So I knowingly led you on for a few months before I had to break it off.  In that time, I met someone, and started dating them without your knowing.  It was a month into dating the both of you that I decided to break it off with you.  All of this was in extremely poor taste on my part.  You were a good, decent, love struck person, and I took advantage of you to keep my job.  I am eternally sorry for what I’ve done.  We haven’t spoken since 2009, I don’t know where you are or what you are doing, but I do want you to know, that I apologize for my actions. —- Lori J when I met you, and started dating you, it was under false pretenses.  I was dating Alexis at the time, but wasn’t interested in her.  I met you in June of 2009, and we stared dating in July of that same year.  I was honest about Alexis with you after about a week into our relationship.  The whole time we were together, I was immensely attracted to you, but felt that we didn’t click on any other level than sexually.  We broke up in Sept of 2009, and I can say that I never cheated on you, despite the fact that you accused me of it repeatedly.  Never the less, I did enjoy my time with you, and was sorry to see that ending our relationship was so hard on you. —- Lori F, the woman who would become my wife.  We met in November of 2009 in person.  For over 11 years I have loved you, and would have done nearly anything for you.  But I regret to admit, I treated our relationship worst of all when it came to my philandering.  

I cheated on you, a lot.  I slept with Carissa when you and I were first dating.  I also slept with Jenny, and Niki one night stands at separate times.  I was also openly flirting with 3 other women from work, Cheryl, Marissa, and Kira.  This was all in the period when I was referring  to us as casual dating.  When we finally took the step to being in a committed relationship, I stopped sleeping around, for a few years.   3 years later, I had become a real flirt again with the same 3 women from my job. I also began to steadily flirt with our friend Kim.  The two of us had arranged to meet privately, but in the last moment, I called it off because I didn’t want her to cheat on her boyfriend as well.  At the same time, Flirting had gotten so intense between me and Kira, we wound up sleeping together.  

You and I got married in July of 2013, but I had actively made it a point to sleep with one last person before we got married.  3 days before our wedding, I met Jennifer in Las Vegas.  I had been chatting and flirting with her for months before hand, and convinced her to meet me there to have a fling before I was married.   After that, I remained loyal to our marriage for 4 years till 2017, when we had built up a fair bit of resentment towards one another.  I went looking online to start flirting again.  At the same time, I had just been urged to start talking and patch things up with Crystal.  The opportunity was there, and I took it.  Crystal and I began flirting.  At the same time, I reached out to Carissa, and slept with her again, while you were out of town at a show.  

In 2018, flirting with Crystal became an almost daily thing.  By the fall of 2018, I took several jobs in the midwest that would take me closer to her for a short time, and for a single night, I met her in a hotel in Michigan, and we slept together.  

The two of us continued our flirting over the next year, and we would meet up again a couple more times in fall of 2019.  After which she begged me to come back in December of that year for a full week, and I did.  It was at this point I had my car accident, and knew I couldn’t hide my behavior anymore.   Although I knew I had done wrong, I chose not to own up to what I had done, and lied about it to you.  At the same time, I also chose not to stop talking to Crystal.  I did try on and off throughout 2020 to cut things off, but I found myself growing very lonely in your absence, and kept seeking Crystal out to fill that void.  It wasn’t till Jan of 2021 that I finally did cut off communication with Crystal, we haven’t spoken at length since the 3rd week of Jan 2021.

In early 2020, I discovered you were having your own affair, and after doing some digging, saw that you were partaking in the exact same behaviors I was and you had been for years.  For the first time, I felt the actions of what I had been doing, from the other side of the experience.  For the first time, I really saw how badly my actions were hurting the people around me.  And for the first time, I felt real, deep remorse for what I had done.  I felt it so badly that I could not fully put it to words, I knew then that I was being punished for my years of horrendous behavior.  That I would feel every ounce of grief I had inflicted on the people I had hurt.  These were the consequences of my actions.  I deserved what I got.

That all being said, I never expected you to fully leave me.  I never thought you’d dive full in to an extra marital affair, and maintain it for over a year.  Something beyond sex.  Something beyond physical attraction.  You found love in someone else, and ran away to pursue it.  I know you are chasing your happiness.  I don’t want to stand in your way.  You deserve to be happy.  You deserve to be in a better relationship than the one I’d be able to offer you.  I am a liar, and a cheater, and I have been since the early parts of our relationship.  You should leave me behind.  I just wish you’d gone about this in a very different way.

My bad behavior doesn’t excuse your bad behavior.  Likewise, your bad behavior doesn’t excuse mine.  I don’t want you to lie to me, I don’t want you to cheat on me.  I want you to be better than me. Now, because of what I’ve felt and the intense emotions and ramifications of my actions I’ve needed to face, I don’t want to lie or cheat anymore either.  

I want to be a better person.  I need to be a better person.  Whether our futures have us staying together or not, I swear I will be the best person I can be going forward no matter what relationship I am in.  I have felt the pain, and I know that it has changed me for the better. I’m sorry for what I did to you.  I’m sorry for every single second of my deplorable actions.  I’m sorry for choosing to be my worst self, when I had so many opportunities not to be.  Where we are now, is my fault.  I started us down this path and invited this bad karma and bad energy into our lives.  I ruined our marriage long before you started flirting with others as well.  I wish we could both come back to the table acknowledging our faults and pledging to be better people, but in truth, you deserve better than me.  You deserve to be happy, and I pray that you do find your happiness. Lori, I am sorry.  I am so very sorry.  Please forgive me.

[brooklynislandgirl]

“Dirtiest thing you’ve done in bed? If you say lay down in your street clothes, we’re fighting.” - Nilza

The question brings a drawing of the little witch’s brows. She’d always assumed clothes were clothes, especially in places where garments of any sort were hard to come by. Either woven by hand or passed from one generation to the next, she can’t exactly imagine having specific ones just for being worn in the street as opposed to anywhere else. And that in turn makes her feel the slightest bit shabby in comparison to the other woman. The plain muslin dress was one of the newest things she owned, handed down from her grandmother. Bare feet whose soles were clung too by the good black earth from her herb garden. Black sweater showing holes in some places, worn thin in others to keep the evening chill at bay where the tea she was drinking couldn’t. She has a sturdy pair of brogues lined up by the door, but nothing like the hunter’s leathers and heels and all manner of apparel. Nor the paint on her face that is a long way from battle woad.

But that was all water in the wash, wasn’t it? Not the question asked of her and in all fairness she owed the woman an answer. Beth had pried into Nilza’s personal affairs more than enough the evening before over that bottle of Bennett wine.

But the problem is... Beth doesn’t have any juicy secrets, not the sort being sought after. She rubs at the side of her nose with a knuckle.

“I....uh... well... truth be told...I ain’t never....ah... danced at the Springin’ fires, neither the Harvest ones, never been taken t’ wife.”

There’d been talk, of course. Everyone flaps their gums with little stories when they get t’ jawin’ with other folks, especially at the gathering of the clans. The most prevalent was that she and Frost Rends the Bane ~John, to the Sept’s outsiders~ had a kind of understanding, though that was far from the truth. While he was perhaps the most reasonable Wendigo to ever exist, she doesn’t come from a First People heritage and even if she did, she could do nothing to add to the fruitfulness of his Tribe. No, they were close friends. Close allies, but that’s where it ended.

Beth’s moons had come later than they ought, and then dried up far too quickly. She’d gone from maiden to crone without ever having a chance to be a mother. An ironic turn of events, considering she’d helped birth most of the pups and children underfoot in these parts, could bring forth bountiful crops or cause the land to turn barren against the outsiders. But no prayer, potion, or other trick in her ancient wisdom could put seed inside herself. And that led to another rumour, that she and her brother, bless his memory, had been entirely too close as far as siblings went. The sort of nastiness one could expect from townsfolk who didn’t understand that the pair might as well have been twins even if he’d been older than her by five long years. That when he was alive he’d been her protector and her confidant, much like Frost was now. Sure, there was only the antique brass bed in her cottage. Sure, they’d shared it night after night, bundling up and cuddling close during the long snows. But that wasn’t really unusual in these parts.

And of course...there was the other hunter. Oh, he’d been pretty. Grown from a long line in which his own father had also been a hunter and his mother’d been a witch in her own right. And Baz had a talent for both running through his veins, though if she closes her eyes she can still see the look on his face when he’d trespassed onto her land and she’d greeted him from the porch with her shotgun aimed level on him. Not a few breathless kisses and almost desperate clutching had occurred before the pull of the road and debts he owed had pulled him away from the Mountain. She didn’t expect him to stay, though who could say what might have happened if he had? After a few years, she figures he’s smart and isn’t coming back. And lastly, there are the dreams. Sometimes she has them when she’s wide awake, snippets of some other now far away. The city looks nothing like what she knows. Not the sept, not town. Not even the metropolis that is Gatlinburg, which she’s been to, once, a long time ago. There’s too many people and a lot of water and things she has no name for. And there’s a boy not much younger than her. Always the same one. He feels cripplingly lonely and he dreams a lot too. She doesn’t know what the connection is, and she’s never told anyone about him. Not even Andy. She sometimes cries with him. Sometimes her hands ache something fierce, sometimes she feels this tremendously profound sorrow that hangs from him like a shroud. And sometimes, late at night, when her eyes refuse to close and she has only the company of the coons and the possums, the crickets singing their night song, she can feel...other things. Desires and hungers she’s never felt before. A vast yearning for something...or someone... else. It never lasts, no matter how much she tries to hold onto it. And even her best scrying tells her nothing more than a glimpse of hair like late summer wheat and eyes that are the heavens above in all their varying shades of blue.  She will admit to some part of that, maybe. “Sometimes...sometimes I... explore...uh...m’self. But it’s never real...satisfyin’. Not like them other gals sometimes say. I don’t think I like it very much. But it’s better’n the tub than the bed, for what it’s worth.”