#did i say the flowers always stand for their birth month? no?

[lavandulacosmos]

ATEEZ as Greek Goddesses: Park Seonghwa as Persephone [Περσεφόνη]

Seonghwa - as Persephone - is the deity of all living things and ruler of the Underworld. He is the epitome of contrasts and duality - blossoming nature and barren earth, passion and grief - of life and death. Wanderers of both worlds turn to him for protection because life blooms and prospers in his presence.

Happiest birthday my brightest star! Happy Seonghwa day! 💕

[victoria-writes]

I will never forget you.

Pairing: Legolas x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Legolas proposes to you and reassures you that he wants to be with you. Fluff & Angst with a happy ending + bonus ending

Word Count: 1605

Notes:

Reader is human

No gender or pronouns used to refer to the reader. Reader is briefly mentioned to have short hair

MENTIONS OF DEATH (reader's). Don't read if you're not ok with thinking about your own mortality xoxo

Read it on AO3 here

Story:

It has been months since you moved to Mirkwood with the prince following the disbandment of the fellowship and destruction of the one ring. Sometimes your mind would drift to what could’ve happened had the ring fallen into the wrong hands or if any other evil lies dormant, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. You could never sit with these thoughts for long, though. Legolas seemed to have a sixth sense for when you needed to see the good in the world again. Today was one of those days. 

“Come, there is something I wish to show you”, the elf smiled as he stretched his hand out, waiting for you to take it from your place sitting in a wooden chair inside the royal palace. 

“It better not be another elk giving birth in the woods. I’m still traumatized from your idea of ‘the beauty of nature’”, you grimace at the memory still not extending your hand.

“No, no, nothing like that. I promise”, he chuckles softly.

“Fine”.

Legolas had brought you to a clearing in the forest, surrounded by old-growth trees and wildflowers. White queen anne’s lace, forget-me-nots, and flowers whose names you did not know, who only seemed to grow near where elves trot, filled your eyes. This is not the first time he’s found a quiet spot in nature to take you, and it will surely not be the last. While overlooking the rainbow of colors seemingly dancing in the field in front of you, you sneak a glance at the elf from the corner of your eye. He stands confidently with his hands behind his back next to you and smiles. If it were anyone else looking at him, they’d think he was completely at ease. Anyone but you. The look in his eyes said “Do you like it? Do you? Please tell me you like it.”. He always wanted to impress you, whether it be shooting three arrows at once when one would suffice, wearing his nicest clothes (“Legolas why are you wearing your ceremonial attire?” “Don’t worry about it, father”.), or finding the best places to take you. Be still, your beating heart. For a nearly 3,000 year old elf, he acted like a lovesick teenager. 

“It’s absolutely beautiful”, you finally say after a long silence. Legolas releases tension in his shoulders he didn’t even realize he was holding. 

“I knew you would. Let us sit in the grass.”, he guided you so that he was sitting with your back against his chest, his legs on either side. 

You felt your tongue form teasing words about him taking you on a hike to a remote spot just for a cuddle, but they faded away as he wrapped his arms around your sides and began to plant soft, slow kisses on your neck and shoulder. You melted into his warm touch. 

“May I braid your hair?”

“Yes, but there’s not much to braid.”, you reply. You had recently gotten a haircut and felt as though Legolas may be disappointed. He was very enthusiastic about your new look the first time he saw it, but now you fear he may not enjoy it. 

“Nonsense, I shall make many small plaits instead”.

“Alright”, you relaxed into his hands as he began to weave strands of hair behind you. You closed your eyes, as you reveled in the feeling of the sunlight on your face as he worked. All was quiet aside from the occasional bird chirping or squirrel running up a tree. A warm feeling took hold in your chest and you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. You were safe. You were happy. You were in love. 

Millenia seemed to pass before Legolas announced he was done. True to his word, he had formed many braids in your hair. He may have gone a little overboard with just how many he made, but he just loved the feeling of being so close to you and never wanted it to end. 

“Thank you”, you whisper as your turn to face him, giving him a peck on the lips. You move your hand to feel the back of your head, itching to feel the braids your lover gifted you. Soft. Your fingers feel something soft. Something thin and soft. 

“Forget-me-not flowers”, Legolas clarified, seeing you trying to decipher with your fingers, “I thought them appropriate”.

“Why is that?” “They are gifted to one whose presence you enjoy, so as not to forget them, as the name implies. I could never forget you and I hope you would not forget me. Each past day with you is a beloved memory and each day to come cannot come soon enough. I treasure each moment with you. I feel myself drowning in my affection for you. No, peacefully swimming. I adore you. I cannot bear to be without you.”, he says softly as he holds both your hands and kisses each one, never breaking eye contact.

“Oh, Legolas”

“Meleth nîn”, he uses his hands to guide you both to your feet. As you look up into his bright blue eyes, he whispers “Please allow me to never be without you. Allow me to walk beside you for all the days we may share together before death takes us. I have lived millennia without you. Now that I know what life is like with you in it, I never want to go back. I want you with me, always.”

“Are you asking me-?”, you begin as he kneels down in front of you and pulls out a ring from his pocket.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”, he gazes at you with hope in his eyes as he lifts the ring towards you. 

“Yes. Yes. Yes!”, he quickly puts the ring on your left ring finger and you pull him into a harsh kiss. You and the elf wear matching smiles as you kiss long and hard. 

“I’m so happy, Legolas…but is this what you really want?”, your smile drops as your nerves hit you. “Of course, my love. Why do you question my intentions?”.

“It’s not your intentions that I question. It’s just that you’re…you”, you vaguely gesture at the elf.

“I’m not following.”

“You’re a prince. I’m poor. You’re an elf that’ll live thousands of years. I’m a human that’ll be lucky if I make it to 70.” “I don’t care about that.”

“Your father won’t approve.” “I care not what my father thinks. His opinion of our union will not sway me.” 

“Then what of my mortality? One day I will die and leave you alone.”

He sighs before he speaks, “I must admit I have thought long and hard on this subject. The thought of your death pains me to no end.” “Exactly. Our marriage would be short-lived in your long lifetime and I will become nothing but a memory to you, one that will fade one day.”

“What are you saying?” “I’m saying you love me now, but one day I will die and you’ll move on and I’ll mean nothing to you. One day you’ll laugh at how you ever loved a silly human”, tears began to well in your eyes, shame overtaking you as you finally let out the fears you’ve been harboring all this time. Your gaze drifts downwards, unable to face your elven lover. Legolas’ eyes widened in realization, shocked at your true feelings. He manages to compose himself and lifts your chin up with his index finger. 

“Meleth nîn, look at me. Y/N, please.”, he whispers his request. 

“It is true that my life will continue when yours ends.”

Hot tears began to run down your cheeks at this. 

“But”, he swipes the tears away with his thumb, “You will always be a part of it. Even when you are gone, I will love you. You have shown me love that I did not think was possible. When you are gone, I will visit your grave with flowers each day. I will braid my hair and miss the touch of yours. I will never remarry. I will walk the paths we have taken together. I will meditate in this very spot, remembering this moment. I will never forget you. In life and in death, we are connected. I love you”.

“And I love you”, you barely choke the words out through your tears. 

“Knowing all this, my silly human,”he teases before turning serious, “Will you marry me?” “Of course, I’ll marry you, you ridiculous elf”.

You both grin as Legolas lifts you up and spins you in his arms. When your feet are planted on the Earth again he kisses you deeply. As you feel your lips on your own, you imagine a thousand more kisses each day with him for the rest of your days. 

Bonus

Many moons have passed since your passing. Legolas meant every word of his promise and has done all that he said. Before he rests each night, he reads the book on his nightstand, your favorite book of poems. He recalls reading it to you on nights your eyes were too tired as he pet your hair while you laid on his chest. When he wakes each morning, he glares at the large empty space beside it, wishing it were you. Although his heart pangs at the loss of you, he finds joy and comfort in revisiting your old haunts, his favorite being the spot where he proposed to you. Today, our elf wanders into the cemetery. “Hello, meleth nîn”, he smiles as he places a bouquet of freshly picked forget-me-nots on your grave.

[themotherofhorses]

Hiiii wanted to request Dark Aemond x Mermaid reader.

Reader is from house Manderly [ their flag had a merman in it ] and Aemond finds our her secret so he blackmails her father into marrying her.

Also some smut too maybe breeding kink of sorts.

even the whales fall prey to men.

pairing: dark!aemond targaryen x fem!mermaid!reader

warnings: very much nsfw. explicit language. blackmailing on aemond's part. forced marriage. dubcon. breeding kink. allusions to violence and death. mentions of pregnancy.

notes: dark & obsessive!aemond targaryen makes my head go brrr. also this smut will totally suck and i take full responsibility for it.

masterlist

The sea is much colder than usual, and across the winter sky hangs a thick blanket of clouds, dark as smoke.

It will snow soon, your mother had said at breakfast, bundled up in all her warm furs while you broke fast together. Today may be the last day we are able to swim for a while, so do make your peace and say all your goodbyes to your grandfather.

You sit on the jagged rocks that stand strong in the waters, watching as your mother and sisters finish with their own wreaths. Yours lays draped across your lap, weaved from rosemary and sea kale and the pretty blackthorn that bloomed on the nearby cliffs. The whales were making one final visit to White Harbor before leaving for warmer waters, and it was tradition to see them goodbye, and to flower them with the newly made wreathes and long garlands. It would not be until the early summer months that they would return.

“Little fish,” your mother calls out for you, already knee-high deep in the bitter sea waters. Your sisters did not wait for neither you nor her, deciding on a small race between each other. “Lost in thought, my little love?” Her face is soft and sweet, with two dimples on both cheeks, “Come or we’ll miss them!”

You were born a Manderly, under the cold moon, on the White Knife. On your first nameday, a great storm wailed outside the New Castle, crushing your lord father’s fleet to kindle and drowning the port city. Some said it was the Stranger waging war against the Father and the Warrior, high in the heavens, while others claimed the old sea god Caraxes was celebrating the birth of a new granddaughter.

Your father claimed direct descendance from the First Men, while your mother was of the true goldenblood of Old Valyria, a daughter of Caraxes himself. His mermaids, women with silver crowns and dark violet eyes and a fish’s tail for legs. The seamen swore you existed, but the rest of Westeros refused to believe.

Perhaps that was why you never strayed far from the White Knife, and from your mother’s side too.

Then again, your lady mother never faltered in warning you and your elder sisters of the myriad of dangers that came with your blood, and of people finding out the truth of such. She was a protective woman, prideful and beautiful, and a great warrior too. The magic she practiced since girlhood allowed for her to shift her appearances, and when you grew of age, she taught you the different spells and rituals, the small incantations to mumble under your breath, and the ways of honoring your grandfather.  

“Be smart about it,” she cautioned, though not sternly. With a gentle palm resting over your cheekbone, she kissed the tip of your nose, smiling down at you, “always be mindful of one’s eyes and ears, my little one. The whales know no true safety, not even in their own home.”

Oh, how you wish to go back and believe her words a little more

It came as a great surprise that, while you were gone, your lord father had welcomed in a guest.

You had not been made aware of such, and neither was your mother, who took it as quite the insult. She immediately sent you and your sisters to your personal chambers, to wash up from the heavy sea salt that clung to your skin and hair, and to dress nicely. “The blue velvet, please,” she said, with a smile that did not reach her purple eyes. “We must look our best.” You had not the slightest clue of who the guest might be, and you ask your eldest sister if she caught a whisper. But she just shrugs. “A Stark, maybe? Or perhaps a Baratheon.”

“But what would they want with us?”

“Maybe a marriage pact is finally being proposed between our houses,” she replies with a sigh, a stupid lovesick grin twisting on her pink lips. She is a maiden of twenty and two, tall and slender and beautiful like your mother, and beyond ready to become a lord’s wife. You make a face at that but say nothing more. Would your mother even allow for that to happen? Perhaps for your sisters, but not for you.

You were still too young, a pretty daylily not yet ready for plucking.

In the Merman’s Court, you find your mother pacing by the castle’s throne, biting at her nails. She looks nervous, with eyes darting between the doors and the households that stood around the hall, cloaked in wools of blue and green. When she finally takes notice of your presence, she drops her hand and draws you into a hug. “Little fish,” and she studies you over, at how you brushed out your silver hair till it shone, and wore your nicest silks. “Very pretty, my little one. Very pretty, indeed.”

You remain by her side, clutching tightly her hand as your sisters soon step inside the hall, all clad in their prettiest gowns, in bright colors of green and navy and white, and giggling amongst themselves. Then come the court ladies and lords, the few maesters that lived in the New Castle, and your father, the Lord Manderly, followed by-

“Prince Aemond of the House Targaryen, son of King Viserys II and the Queen Alicent.”

Your eyes grow wide at the sight of Aemond One Eye, and you subtly shift closer to your mother. He was terribly handsome, you think, shrouded in black riding leather and a long cape that pooled around his dark boots. At his waist hangs a sheathed long-sword. Both his hands are tucked behind his back, shoulders straight and proud, and he wears a smirk. And his hair, every bit the same silver as yours, long and straight and neatly combed.

“Ah, Prince Aemond,” your mother greets. She curtsies, low and graceful to her knees, and you do the same. “Your visit is quite the unexpected one, but we welcome you into our home. Is White Harbor to your liking, my prince?”

He hums. “There are many seamen that dock themselves at King’s Landing, and almost all of them have spoken of the White Harbor, and the beauty that it possesses, particularly during these winter months.” His voice is deep, almost a purr, with a crownlands accent. “Although, my lady, now I cannot help but wonder if your daughters are the reason for that.”

Your mother clicks her tongue, and ever so slightly her eyes narrow. “You honor me, my prince,” she said, “and my daughters.”

Prince Aemond grins at that.

It was your father who spoke next. “My love, the Prince Aemond has arrived with a most equitable offer from the King and Queen themselves.” He sounds quite proud, and incredibly happy at whatever that offer might be. “They are asking for an alliance to be made between our house and House Targaryen,” but he pauses, holding his gaze on your mother, “-through marriage. Prince Aemond is here to choose one of our daughters to wed.”

Your face snaps to your mother, who stood speechless.

“Our eldest is twenty and two, and a fine lady,” your father adds, nodding to your sisters that stood to your left, “and our second-born daughter just celebrated her twentieth nameday. She has no current betrothed, though she is not without suitors, of course.” Your mother holds her tongue, it seemed, choosing to keep you tucked by her side.

But Prince Aemond shakes his head. “Your two daughters are very beautiful, Lord Manderly, I speak nothing but the truth with that, but I have no interest in having their hands,” he says, before focusing his one eye on you. “It is your youngest I wish to have.”

Your mind goes blank.

“My youngest?” Your father sputters. “Forgive me for my words, my prince, but we have not planned to wed her off yet.”

Aemond shrugs. “I do not care about that; it is she who I desire the most.” He looks at your father, tilting his head, sounding curious, “Did you not promise to me any choice of your daughters, for an alliance with my family?” Lord Manderly appears nervous now, and embarrassed as well, with cheeks and a forehead flushing a bright pink. “Well…I suppose so…”

“Mama?” you whisper, tucking yourself behind her. Your fingers tremble greatly, and it soon feels too difficult to breathe. You could feel your sisters’ eyes on you, along with your father’s and the eyes of the many court lords and ladies, and the household guards too. They all feel too judgemental, pitiful and sympathetic. But your mother, she fought back. “No,” she says, loudly. “No, you shall not have her.”

“You deny your own prince?” Aemond asks, incredulous. “Such boldness, my Lady Manderly. But alas, I came to retrieve my bride, and I shall leave with her, make no mistake in believing that.”

“No,” your mother repeats, much louder than the first. Her voice, strong and willful, echoes across the Merman’s Court, sounding every much a crack of thunder, or perhaps even a roar of a she-dragon. “She is still too young, my prince, you must understand that. I will not be separated from my youngest, she is not ready to become a wife-”

“She has celebrated her eighteenth nameday, has she not?” Your mother stays silent, and Aemond grins. “She is well old enough to be my wife.”  

Your mother shakes her head. “Please, you can have my two other daughters, but not her. I refuse it! I refuse it!” She turns to your father, “My love, see with reason! She is not ready! The ocean still needs her, I still need her! Refuse it! I will not allow it! No, I will not-” But Prince Aemond cuts her off, “Refuse it?” He laughs, and you flinch at it.

“You have no power to do such a thing, least you wish to die of treason, a bloody traitor to your crown. To your King and Queen!”

He takes a step forwards, to you and your mother. “I know you, Lady Manderly,” he says, slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild forest beast, “I know the sort of mother you are. It is very honorable, very admirable, and I thank you, from the bottom of my own heart, for raising my new bride well. But I also know you are very protective of them, and I understand.” Prince Aemond then leans his face close, until his lips linger over your mother’s ear, “-after all, dangers do tend to follow the daughters of Caraxes, do they not? And his granddaughters too. His pretty mermaids.”

He pulls back, a dark grin curling on his lips, his tone seeping in false concern. “What might happen if the world found out the truth of you? And your daughters? How you are not just liars, but neither full humans as well. The creatures the seamen lust after, alive and flourishing on the White Knife…”

Prince Aemond then peers at you from where you stood, his face softening. You timidly meet his eye. “Come, my lady, allow me a better look at you.” You swallow but do as he asked, moving to stand in front of him. “Look at you, a vision of pure beauty. You are so much lovelier than what I imagined when coming here,” and you could not figure out what hurts more: his grip on your upper arm, or the way your mother did nothing.

When you turn to glance back at your lady mother, she looks more a stranger than the woman you knew- weak and humiliated and defeated, almost in tears. It reminds you of something she told you, so many moons ago, back on the beachside. There was a dead whale carcass, fat and bloated, drifting back and forth in the harbor. In its side was buried a harpoon. Your mother shook her head at the sight.

“Even the whales fall prey to men.”

Five days later, Aemond One Eye claims you as his wife.

He allows the wedding to partake on the beach, alongside the ocean where you grew up and loved so dearly. Your mother had pleaded with him to agree on his part to wed you in the customs of Old Valyria, and he could not say no.

I, too, am of the blood of Old Valyria, he said, quite proudly. It will be an honor to both our ancestors, may they bear down on us as we continue our bloodline.

But afterward, he was quick to whisk you away to King’s Landing, to the Red Keep where he swore you rightfully belonged. You only caught a short glimpse of the Queen Alicent Hightower and her father, the Hand, before you were locked you in his royal chambers. And now, you lay across his bed, a flood of whimpers and moans spilling from your pink lips as he squashes his face only deeper between your thighs. “You have the sweetest cunt,” he groans, sucking on your clit as your head thrashes around, and your hips buck against his mouth.

“I knew I had to have you,” he says, while running his tongue along your wet folds. Your taste, it is like no other, and he swears himself a new and addicted man. He will spend the rest of his days worshipping you if the gods allow it. “The moment I saw you, you were mine. The gods could not even deny me of you. Your lips, my sweet girl, they looked so sweet, and I wondered if your cunt would be the same.”

Both your breasts sit in his hands, and he palms at them, sliding his face up to yours, peppering kiss after kiss across your hipbones and stomach. You are so beautiful, he thinks, while pressing his face against your belly. It should be a sin that you are not with child. “I cannot wait till our firstborn sleeps here,” he mumbles, kissing it, “I will make you the most beautiful mother known to the world, and men will envy me for the rest of their damned days.”

His words make you whimper, chewing on your bottom lip as his mouth soon hovers over yours. “Tell me you want my seed,” he demands in a whisper, gripping your chin between his fingers. “Tell me how bad you need it…and I promise you, my love, you will have it.”

“Please…”

His eyebrow raises, and he chuckles. “Please, what?”

He wishes for you to beg for him- for his seed and his love and soul, to plead with him for everything, to come undone and submit yourself- as his woman and wife and the mother of his children.

But you shy away, choosing to hide your face within the pillows, a bit too embarrassed to answer him properly. It is cute until Aemond grows too impatient. His craving for you spanned over too many moons, ever since he took first sight of you swimming in the waters of the White Knife. He toasts to both the Mother and the Maiden, perhaps even the Crone, that you never saw Vhagar flying in the sky above.

“It does not matter,” he says, kissing your forehead softly before moving to your lips. The kiss leaves you breathless, trembling and hungry for more. He flings your legs over his waist, pulling you down to where you lay completely underneath him, “I do not need your permission to seed my wife, and to make her a mother,” and against your lips, he mumbles, “you belong to me, do you understand? You are mine, from this day till the end.” And within a minute, his cock is stuffed deep inside you.

“It is too big…!” you cry, grasping onto his shoulders as he fucks you hard and deep, his thrusts seeming too unforgiving.

Perhaps he is punishing you, though you had not the smallest idea as to why.

“Please! Please, husband- please, slow down!” You bounce beneath him, fingers finding your own nipples as you twist and tweak them. It felt right in the moment, having remembered him doing it only several minutes ago.

“I do not give a shit,” he grunts, his hands resting on your hips, “you were fucking made for me. This body was made for my seed, for my children, now you will take it.” Sweat beads along his forehead as he moans and grunts some more and whines, feeling the way your cunt tightens around his cock. It is perfection, a feeling that was made just for him. “You have evaded my hands for too fucking long, now you suffer the consequences.”

You feel as if your eyes might roll to the back of your skull. Your pants are heavy and hot, and you cannot help the shriek when his fingers pinch your clit, before rubbing his thumb over it. He laughs, quickening his thrusts. “And to think, your mother would have kept this from me, kept you away from me. Ah, should I speak to you the truth, my love?” It is a cruel taunt, as you cannot answer, too overtaken by this pleasure. “I would have burned the White Harbor to the ground if I was denied you. Burned your entire fucking family to ashes if they dared keep you from me. House Strong has gone extinct because of me, maybe they will come up with a new nickname for that. Aemond Targaryen, kinslayer. Aemond Targaryen, house-destroyer.”

He shakes his head, snickering, “No, those are too silly, are they not, my love?”

Your face twists up, all in utter pleasure, and your body tightens too as you cream all over his cock. Soon after, he fills you with his cum, so much it trickles down from your cunt, staining the bedsheets along with your blood. But Aemond is quick to gather it with his fingertip, though, and shove it back in you. “Every bit of it matters, my lady, especially if we wish for you be with child by the next moon.” You try to smile, but you are so exhausted and ruined and all you yearn for is sleep.

“Did…did I do good?” you breathe.

Aemond smiles, and kisses your lips, soft and sweet and loving. He strokes your hair, twirling a silver strand around his finger. You are gorgeous, his beautiful wife, this sweet granddaughter of Caraxes. All his. You and the babe that you will carry soon.

“You did perfect, my little fish.”

[euphoricfilter]

hii!! i saw that you take requests? i was wondering if i could get a taehyung fluff where they celebrate their birthday! my birthday is Dec 31 and since his is Dec 30th i wanted something along the lines of like celebrating together alone bc my bdays have always been shitty and this year was the same so i want all the fluff you can give me please <3 if your requests r closed then that’s totally fine!!! i also wanted to say ur an amazing writer and i luv ur content so much!!

𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦:

pairing: kim taehyung x f! reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au || best friends to lovers au

summary: it was no secret that you had never been fond of your birthday, and taehyung hated that you always seemed to celebrate alone— your birthdays won’t be the only celebration each year now that taehyung’s flower has finally bloomed.

word count: 3.6k

tags/ warnings: fluff, nothing crazy, mild birthday slander, reader is an over-thinker, he calls her baby way too many times, tearful confessions

notes: I FOOKIN FINISHED ON MY BIRTHDAY LETS GO! this is my gift to all of you, my lovely readers!!

✿ ✿ ✿

Taehyung’s feeling for you were akin to a flower.

The day the two of you met, planting the seed of his budding feelings. Where you acted as the sunlight he needed to grow; wherever you were, he would follow—growing in whichever direction you were. The first signs of his seedling pushing past the surface of the soil had been months into your friendship.

Minutes after midnight and you’d been stood at his front door, cheeks washed red from the bitter winter air, almost hunched over as you catch your breath; clearly having ran, even as the clock struck 12 and a new day began. You hadn’t wavered from your mission, silently hoping that Taehyung was still awake, because even if it technically wasn’t his birthday anymore, you refused to let the magic fizzle out just yet.

“These are for you” you’d thrusted the bouquet into his chest, pretty little white narcissuses and prickly holly wrapped up in brown paper, tied ever so delicately with a white satin ribbon, where the little red berries rivalled the colour of your cheeks. Perhaps just as round, temping enough that Taehyung had to stop himself from asking to sink his teeth into your supple looking flesh.

“I looked online and it’s your birth flower” you’d told him, standing up a little taller, a little more confident when you see his blooming smile.

“You did this for me?” he asks, bearing the brunt the frigid December cold as he pulls his door open wider, fingers gentle as they close around your wrist, tugging you into the warmth of his apartment.

You nod, hands cupping around your cheeks to try and warm your face up a little. Radiator in the hall sending waves of mellowed heat your way until you could feel the tips of your toes and fingers, nose no longer icy.

Taehyung couldn’t help but smile, and you couldn’t help but think he had the prettiest smile you’d ever seen.

Always so radiant, always so expressive, always so Taehyung, that you couldn’t help but think your efforts were worth it when he looked down at you like that. The miniscule pain of scouring the city for a flower shop willing to help you late into the night, and winds that had almost knocked you over, it didn’t matter because Taehyung was smiling at you like that. Pretty-pretty Taehyung and his pretty-pretty smile.

“Thank you” he’d laughed, “Thank you so much. How about some hot chocolate to warm you up?” he’d offered, and you’d agreed, how could you not?

The stem of Taehyung’s flower had grown fast, with every free weekend the two of you spent together, the little spark of developing love had burst into rapid flames.

Taehyung didn’t mind, revelled in the fact he felt something so raw about another person, never having felt anything like this before. He’d been unsure, fumbling over himself until he found his footing, worked out what you liked and what you didn’t. A little clumsy with his growing adoration until he sat back and realised the feelings he had for you were very real. A shadow in his mind weighing the consequences of acting on his emotions, because why would he fuck this up if he already had you? Maybe not in the exact way he wanted, but it was better than not having you in his life at all.

He wasn’t above dating, had milled around in high school, experimenting with whoever he pleased but nothing would ever be able to compare to what he had for you. An inexplainable warmth that blossomed throughout his body, where delicate vines weaved around his heart and the most beautiful flowers had started to bloom. Where the more Tae learnt about you, the faster he was falling.

He’d never been a fan of the term ‘falling in love’ something a little too melodramatic for his tastes, the very thought of falling for another person less romantic than it had been painted out to be. Because if his life were to be art, then he never wanted it to be the soppy kind, where you know the end is never good and the characters of the play seemed to always live in impending doom. Where only one will come out on top and get what they want while the rest suffer.  

He’d learnt falling didn’t have to be bad, falling—where you’re cushioned by clouds crafted with passion to break the fall. Where kisses taste sweeter and bare skin on skin felt electrifying. Where your mind bubbles over with thoughts of that person until you can’t help the smile that threatens to tug at your lips, and you want to make sure they’re stood by your side. Because as long as you were near, then that’s all he needed.

Taehyung’s favourite type of falling is when you work up the courage to look into his eyes. Always shying away from eye-contact, always a little fidgety when you notice him looking at you for longer than deemed proper for just a friend. He liked your eyes because you’d always been expressive, ever so easy to read, and ever so pretty.

Your outer beauty had only ever been a bonus to Taehyung, and if he had to compare your beauty to any of his favourite things, then surely, he would compare you to a freshly bloomed flower.

✿ ✿ ✿

It was no secret to Taehyung that you hated your birthday.

You’d always seemed to withdraw yourself from everyone the week before the big day, and he’d asked once, why you held so much disdain towards it, and you’d simply shrugged. Telling him you never understood the hype and never felt the need to make it a big event out of it. You never minded celebrating your friends’ birthdays, always going to family parties with well-thought-out gifts and a little skip in your step, but never held the same when it came to you.

“What are you doing here?” you open the door wider when you see its only him, fingers fiddling with handle out of nervous habit— and he watches as you rock back and forth on your heels. Clearly not expecting his arrival, and he would have called, if he didn’t already know you were home.

It’s a little out of character for him to show up to your apartment unannounced, knowing you preferred when he told you at least a few hours in advance that he was coming over, or he wanted to take you out. And as much as you hated the niggling habit of overthinking, it had never put him off, simply moulding his life around your needs as if they were his own.

Because as long as you were happy, so was Taehyung. Another strange side effect of being in love with someone he supposes.

“Can you come with me?” his hands fall out the pockets of his coat, corners of his lips tugging up into a soft smile.

You blink up at him, eyebrows furrowing, “Like— right now?”

“Yeah” he nods, feeble guilt itching under his skin. Like an invisible rash that he couldn’t get rid of, irritable in a way he wants to pull his hair out.

His palm lays flat against your door, pushing it open wider to let himself in. You don’t seem all that worried as you close the door behind him as he slips his shoes off, coat slung over the arm of your couch before he’s making himself comfortable, running a hand through his windswept hair.

He turns to you, “Go get ready, I’ll wait here”

“Where are we going?” you call over your shoulder as you wander into your bedroom, uncaring as you leave the door open.

“My place” he bends forward, trying to catch sight of you as you scuttle around your room. Always fascinated by the way you move, often painfully unaware of your surroundings. Though he doesn’t mind all that much, tips of his fingers tingling each time his hands fall over your shoulders or holding you by the waist has he help guide you, your hand held in his, so you won’t get lost in a crowd, or simply just for the sake of holding you. Your skin like a magnet, drawing him closer whenever he was near, your very existence fascinating to him that he can never seem to get enough.

“Huh?” you pause in the doorway, head tilting, and Taehyung can’t help the smile that stretches onto his face, fondness blossoming around his heart, “Why didn’t you just call me over then?”

“I have a surprise for you” he waves you off, watching as you nod, hesitant, but a small part of his heart swells at the fact you trust him enough to play into his plan even if he can see you itching to ask a million other questions. Questions he would be more than happy to answer, though he doesn’t push. Simply lets you stew in your own thoughts, trusting that you’ll kept your faith in him, stepping forward if you truly needed anything.

“But why?” you throw another sweater over your shoulder, “What should I wear?”

Taehyung pushes himself up off the couch, wandering towards your bedroom—more than equipped in knowing your home, often acting like it was his own.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, baby”

You flinch, not having expected him to be there when you had turned around, “What are we doing?”

“I told you it’s a surprise” he croons, picking up the clothes strewn across the floor.

He folds them into neat piles at the end of your bed— ready for you to put away later as you continue your search for something to wear. Knowing that if he weren’t to do it, they would be left blanketing your floor until you worked up the motivation to finally clean up. At least this way he’d gotten your least favourite part out of the way.

“But what if I’m overdressed, worse, what if I’m underdressed?” you turn back to look at him, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as Taehyung simply stares; never one to back away from prolonged eye-contact.

“Baby, I told you to wear whatever you’re comfortable with. We’re only going to my place, nowhere else if you don’t want to” he soothes, beckoning you over with a hand. And you follow, always so good for him.

You stand between his legs, looking down at Taehyung where he sits on the edge of your bed, “No matter what you wear, you’re pretty, yeah?”

Taking your hands into his own, fingers laced, Taehyung watches as your mouth opens at the gentle contact, closing abruptly when you can’t seem to find the right words to say. Mind whirring behind your eyes, and he worries he’d pushed you too far.

Hesitantly you nod, “Okay” you whisper, swallowing thickly as his thumb runs over the back of your hand.

“Well done” he squeezes your fingers before he’s nudging you back towards your closet.

He watches as you peek over your shoulder, not very subtle as you try and match what he’s wearing.

“How about we match today?” he suggests, watching the lingering anxiety leave your body as your shoulders deflate, eyes lighting up.

“Really?” you ask, grey sweatpants already held tightly in your hands and Taehyung smiles.

“Of course, baby”

✿ ✿ ✿

“Are your eyes still closed?” Taehyung asks, as he bends down, helping you slip your shoes off.

You hum, hands falling onto his shoulders to keep balance. And he suddenly becomes hyper aware of how close the two of you are, hands gentle as he holds onto your ankle, your warm skin under his fingertips electric as his heartrate picks up.

Your hands slide down his arms when he stands at full height, fingers loosely gripping onto his wrists as he pulls you further into his apartment; careful to tug you around the toys his dog had left strewn across the floor of the living room.

Your feet sink into Taehyung’s plush carpet, pitter patter of Yeontan running into the room at the sound of your giggles, warming Taehyung’s heart. Simple domesticity of the situation maybe something Taehyung had been craving; because when he had you like this, no semi high-end dining, no unobtainable expectations from the eyes of others. Simply you and him, where the world beyond his apartment meant nothing, because it didn’t matter where he was as long as he was with you.

“Here we go” Taehyung pulls his wrists from your hands, picking Tannie up, “Open your eyes, baby”

Taehyung watches as your eyes flutter open. You blink down at his coffee table, head tilting in confusion before you’re turning to him.

“What’s all this?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

It hadn’t been much, nothing like he would have truly planned if he didn’t know you had what could only be described as a weird hatred towards your birthday. He’d made sure to get your favourite cake, balloons taped to the walls, all those of your favourite colour—handpicked out of each pack. You eye the platter of sandwiches, and he has to hold onto Yeontan a little tighter as the dog spots whatever other of your favourite snacks he’s picked up that morning. All laid out in little bowls, where confetti had been scattered over the table like the petals of a rose.

“It’s your birthday” he urges, smile still tugging at his lips.

You nod, “I know that but, why—” you gesture to the cake, to the small giftbox, utterly overwhelmed by what you see, and Taehyung wonders briefly if he’d rocked your brain into overdrive.

“I thought we could celebrate together, I know you don’t really like your birthday, but I thought for once I’d do something for you, like you’ve done for me”

“You did all this, for me?”

And although this isn’t his best work, nice restaurant in the middle of the city ready to be called for a late reservation if you hadn’t liked what he’d prepared for you. Wallet tucked away in the pocket of his coat just in case he took you for a walk around the park where he would buy you all the treats your heart desired until your bellies were full, sleepy on the way home; and maybe he would offer to carry you.

“Of course” he nods, letting Yeontan hop onto the couch before he’s tugging you to sit at the coffee table. Knees pressed against one another as you sit adjacent to Taehyung.  

You peek into the cake box, “Shut up, you didn’t buy one of those really pretty lunchbox cakes” your look up at Taehyung, eyes wide and he only grins. You stare at it in awe, purple iced flowers climbing the sides of the cake, blooming in shades of lavender and violet in gradient. Where fondant leaves weaved through bunches of flowers like wild vines.

“This is for you” he pushes the wrapped box across the table towards you. Brown paper tied off with a pretty white ribbon—little white daisy pin stuck in the centre of the bow.

He watches as you shake it. Fingers delicate as you pull the ribbon apart, dropped in a small pile beside the box of your cake, and he only expects you plan to save it for later. Scraps of long forgotten art supplies hidden in the depths of your closet for when you really needed it. Always a little bit of a hoarder, though you like to blame it on sentiment.  

The tips of your fingers skim over the velvety box, a deep red with little golden stars embroidered into the fabric, “What is it?”

“Open it” his back falls against the couch, fingers thrumming across his thigh, anxious of your reaction.

You lift the lid of the box, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“It’s so pretty” you murmur, head lifting to meet Taehyung’s gaze.

You watch him lift his hand; matching ring sat snug on his finger. Your gaze flickers down towards the ring in the box, “They’re matching?”

“Yeah”

The corners of your lips tug up into a smile, “You’re cute” you giggle, gentle as you pull the ring out of the box, sliding it onto your finger, the same one Taehyung had his on.

“You think so?” he leans forwards, eyebrows raising in question, and he watches as you swallow thickly, “Come on, don’t be shy now” his smile is lazy, a little cocky and you can’t seem to help the heat that tickles your cheeks red.

He watches you debate whether to stay silent or not, “Yes” you breathe, tongue slipping past your lips to wet them.

“Yes what?” he urges, revelling in the way you fidget in your spot—fingers itching to pull you closer into him, moulding the two of you into one being until he doesn’t know where you end, and he starts.

“I think you’re cute”

“I think you’re cute too” he smiles, deft fingers tucking his hair behind his ear.

“You what?” you splutter, “That’s not funny, Tae”

“It wasn’t meant to be” you watch as he sits up straight, careful as he takes your hands into his own, “Why would you think I’d joke about that?”

His eyebrows crease as you let out a long sigh, “Because well, you’re—you’re you and I’m just me”

“There’s nothing wrong with you” he shakes his head.

“I’m not perfect like you, Tae” you try to pull your hands from his, no real force behind the gesture, fingers barely slipping from his grasp.

“I’m not perfect” he laughs, leaning forwards like he wanted to tell you a secret, “You are though”

You blink, “I’m not” he watches as tears glaze over your eyes.

“Come on, baby, why’re you crying” he coos, gentle as he pushes your hair out of your face.

“Because I really like you, and I feel stupid” you admit, one hand still held in Taehyung’s as the other comes to wipe your face of the tears that cascade down your cheeks.

“I really like you too” Taehyung stands, manoeuvring his way around the table, falling to his knees beside you.

“No—not that kind of like. I like like you” you cover your face with your hands.

“Hey” he calls, “listen to me”

You snivel, daring peek out from behind your hands, a new wave of fresh tears glazing your cheeks shiny as he smiles, always so soft, always so reassuring.

“I like like you too, my baby” he laughs, barely there, but the puff of breath deflates his chest, “Haven’t I made it obvious enough?”

You shake your head, “Now I feel really stupid” you cry.

“No no no” he shakes his head, cupping your cheeks, “I clearly didn’t realise either”

You hiccup, “I’m sorry”

“What for?” his eyes flit between your own.

You frown, “Crying”

“Don’t apologize for that” his eyebrows crease, fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “Can I kiss you?”

He watches as your eyes widen a fraction, “Yes”

His thumb brushes away a lone tear when you close your eyes, watching as a sliver of peace washes over your face. And he understands, of course he does. All the built-up tension, nights of wondering if your feelings were to ever be reciprocated, if this budding love was one sided, if it could be more than friendship—all that doubt had evaporated. Exasperated whispers of how this would never work out, suddenly silent, mind and heart free. Pure unadulterated love soaring the skies like a dove let out of a cage with no plan of ever returning, the feeling of freedom, the freedom to love you, too addicting.  

Taehyung feels you smile into the kiss as his lips press against your own. Ever so soft, neither of you rushing.

Your arms slink around his shoulders, pulling his body closer to you as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Your lips part, gentle gasp dripping off your tongue, tacky and sweet as his hands skim down your body, pulling you in between his legs.

Albeit reluctant, Taehyung pulls away, chest heaving for air as his heart hammers against his ribcage. Your fingers skim over your bottom lip.

“One more” you whisper, hands falling from Taehyung’s shoulders to cup his cheeks like he had your own.

“Okay” he nods, hands still firmly holding onto your hips as you press your chests together, head tilting. Your thumb brushes over his jaw when your lips meet, both a little surer, a little more confident in yourselves, Taehyung teasing as his tongue prods the seam of your lips.

You grant him access, embarrassed whine following a moan as his tongue slips into your mouth—any qualms about you not sharing his feelings bubbling into a fizzy confidence.

“Does this mean you’ll say yes to being my girlfriend?” he smiles down at you, lips a little kiss swollen and shiny.

“If that’s okay with you” you nod, eyes falling onto the ring on his finger, your own glinting in the light of the setting sun that spills through the window.

Taehyung’s feelings for you were akin to a flower.

A flower that had been in the budding stage for years, love disguised as vibrance, hidden away from your eyes as to not scare you away, attracting you like a bee only hoping you’d be happy with that he had to offer. A flower that was now in bloom, because really what it was missing was you. Just wholly you who adores Taehyung as much as he does you. Two flowers blooming in the same flower field where your stems intertwine, growth from here on out together rather than alone. Because even if your petals were the same as the rest of the flowers that grew around you, what you had was special; something none of the other flowers had—each other.  

“Guess this means we have a reason to celebrate your birthday every year” he leans forward, soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

🌱 feedback is always appreciated <3 and thank you for reading!

permanent tag list: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

[rise-my-angel]

So what was Rhaegar like?? I’ve never read the books, in the show they say he was a nice chap. But this was all through Targaryen stans, is it true?

From my perspective he was a bit of a prick, he gave Lyana the flower crown and he was MARRIED??

Everything we know about Rhaegar is entirely secondhand, since he's long since been dead at the start of the series, and everyone who talks about him has completely different memories of what he was like, based on their relationship to him.

What we seem to know about him personally, is that Rhaegar was born during the fires of Summerhall, which ended up causing him to be quite meloncholy and perhaps even intense. It's said that laying in the ruins of Summerhall was the only place he felt happiness and that he might not truly have been capable of love the way the rest of us feel it. But again, how accurate that is, is up for debate.

He did become obsessed with the prophecy of the Prince that was Promised, which a woods witch by the moniker The Ghost of High Hart, predicted would be born from the bloodline of his mother and father. How much he thought it was about himself, or if he thought it was about his son Aegon, or if there is some version of his interpretation of the prophecy in the middle we will never know, but he became obsessed with fufilling it. To the detriment of every single person around him.

There's no indication that the marriage itself between him and Elia Martell was negative, but there are red flags. Elia was often sick as a girl and not always in good health. She was bedridden for months after she gave birth to their daughter Rhaenys, and soon after that, she gave birth to their son Aegon. A birth so dangerous that the Maester informed Rhaegar that Elia would die should she be put through another pregnancy. This seems to be where it falls apart.

Not going into my personal speculation, just the facts, sometime after those events did Rhaegar participate at a tourney at Harrenhal where a crown of flowers is gifted, to which is the knight deeming that woman the "Queen of love and beauty", Rhaegar rode PASSED his wife whom was also the mother of his children, and gifted it to a 14 year of betrothed Lyanna Stark, to which the entire audience fell completely silent.

Now another red flag, is that Rhaegar at this point is fully aware that his father, King Aerys II is very mentally unstable, is dangerous to himself and others, and is not in good standing with his Dornish wife. As when Princess Rhaenys was born, even though Queen Rhaella embraced her grand daughter with joy, King Aerys refused to even touch the baby as she "smelled too Dornish." Elia is also still likely not in good health considering that her labour of Aegon was so life threatening. Which means Rhaegar, if he was a good man, should have done everything in his power to keep his wife and children safe from his fathers maddness if he was planning to leave for an extended period of time. But he did not. Elia and her children were forced to be captors of Aerys during the war and as a result were brutally murdered. No Rhaegar did not kill them, but it was his responsibility to ensure they had all of the protection they needed, and the ONLY person he left in Kings Landing to protect them, was a freshly knighted 16 year old Jaime Lannister.

The only thing we know for sure next, is that sometime in the south shortly before the wedding of Brandon Stark and Catelyn Tully, did Lyanna Stark disappear, along with Rhaegar and his Kingsguard.

To which we do not know what happened explicitly, but that she was in a tower in Dorne as far from her home as possible, (a tower which was gifted to Rhaegar by his wife), and she was found in a bed of her own blood and died shortly thereafter Ned found her.

I think there is enough evidence in Rhaegars canonical actions alone to determine that his was likely someone who was once charming but deeply mentally unwell in his own mind. And when that mental instability begun to latch onto this prophecy, it really spiralled him into someone dangerous and reckless which led to the lives lost of most people he knew in those days as well as himself.

I don't think he was a monster, I think he was a disturbed man who allowed himself to do horrible things, because he could justify it in his own head that it was for the greater good, when in reality, he hurt and got killed almost every single person in his entire life.

I personally think he was a man who did very bad things, which are foretold in the events that lead to the death of his wife, his two children, and a 15 year old girl who desperately screamed for her brother when she likely knew she was about to die.

Everyone will interpret the events differently, and there are a lot of details within different characters stories in the books that lead people to drastically different conclusions, but I think Rhaegars known, undebatable actions already paint a picture that this was not the kind, good man that some would paint his memory out to be.

He wasn't a monster, but I think he was a mentally unwell man who did monstrous things because he did not consider the dire consequences to be important.

[kkkkkafka]

CLOSER

Pairing: Michael Afton/Charlie Emily

Tags: First Time | Fluff and Smut | Vaginal Fingering | Pet Names | Oral Sex | Size Difference | Biting | Creampie | Come Swallowing | Overstimulation | Aftercare | Tattoo Artist Michael Afton | Autistic Michael Afton | Autistic Charlie Emily | Florist Charlie Emily

Summary: Michael was nervous. In fact, saying he was nervous was an understatement. He swore that all of twenty years in his life, he had never felt such an anxious feeling like this. Yet, also, he was very excited for the event tonight.

Notes: Can be read as a standalone fic or a sequel to Kitten Problem

AO3

"How are the doors?"

"Locked."

"Basil, Pepperoni and their kittens?"

"Downstairs."

"Towel, lube and condoms?"

"Here. I’m on birth control, so no need to."

"Ready?"

"Affirmative."

Michael was nervous. In fact, saying he was nervous was an understatement. He swore that all of twenty years in his life, he had never felt such an anxious feeling like this. Yet, also, he was very excited for the event tonight.

A year ago, Michael first met his current girlfriend, Charlie. Sure, he had a fair share of partners in dating before, both men and women alike, but they said they could not keep up with his antics. Like how he talked a lot about his interests instead of small talk, how he could not sit still or read their facial expressions, so they stood him up. He did try to force himself to become "more tolerable" as they told him, but he failed because he could not stand how he had to try to hide his authentic self. Plus, it was his sister nagging him to join in speed dating, claiming it would be fun for him, he was really not into it at first but did not want to let the red-head down. With those failed attempts, Michael thought that he only could be fine alone, despite craving a companion that could trust and understand him. 

Until he met Charlie. 

Although she was very different from him, from looks to behaviors, Michael felt as if the girl was literally a part of himself. In fact, despite those visible contrast things, he knew that she was not much different from him. He knew it the moment Charlie started to passionately talk and show him her tattoos when he mentioned about his job and how she acted when she saw Basil's kittens. She even helped him go through a nasty art block, and suggested ideas for his future works. That was when he knew he developed a crush on her. And luckily, Charlie felt the same.

Three months after they first met, both of them confessed to each other.

Michael remembered it was very awkward. They were all blushing and stuttering, to the point Charlie even had to whip out her phone to write out her intentions and send it for him, and until then Michael did the same thing to her, despite seeing in person.

But what was done was done, now they were each others' partners. It was a memorable reminiscent though . It always made them laugh when mentioning it. 

And that led Michael to the current situation right now. 

Just a moment ago, he and Charlie were chilling on the couch inside her house, watching some sappy soap opera per his requests. It was not even interesting (Charlie literally stared at him and grumbled  "I fucking told you this was not even a good idea. Should have watched Saw instead."  ) and they talked to each other to pass the time. The talk went from how Basil had to take up a diet cause she was too chonky for her own good, to a customer of Charlie asked her how to say  "Fuck you"  in a flower language, then and there with the soap opera playing as background noises.

It went fine and smoothly until the topic of sex coming up.

It was not really that uncomfortable, but more on the embarrassing side, because both of them are virgins without any experiences. Charlie did say that she just never did it with any other person but she did try to masturbate quite often, in which Michael said he did the same. So they agreed to be each other's first time, and also to test out what they liked most in bed.

After a lot of "research" online together and trying to prepare as much as they could, then taking a shower together, Michael and Charlie went upstairs and sat down on the edge of bed, facing away from their partner in bashment. They were silent for a while, then it was Charlie who broke the ice.

"So… Should we get started now? I kinda don't want to postpone this. Like, we have prepared through and I have always wanted to try doing this with someone else…"

"Yeah, we should…"  Michael replied, averting Charlie's eyes. His face was flushed and hot, as if smoke was coming out from his ears.

"Then, do you want to strip yourself or can we take turns?"  Charlie fidgeted with her shirt, her palms were cold and clammy and she sneakily glanced at Michael.

"Take turns! I think it will be fun!"  An enthusiastic answer coming from Michael that made Charlie snapped out of the nervousness and snorted out loud. Honestly, she felt like her boyfriend was somewhat a manchild, but nodded along with him and stood up to sit on his lap when Michael started making grabby hands motions at her.

Michael's hands are huge, one of his palms could even cover her whole belly, Charlie noticed. He gently lifted up her shirt as if asking her if this was okay, and Charlie wordlessly threw her hands up high so it could be easier for Michael.

Michael just stared at her in awe, his blue eyes widened. His girlfriend was just too gorgeous. Her pale skin was covered in black ink which was a nice contrast. Her chest was small and Michael felt like they would fit perfectly in his hands, and the cold air made her pink nipples stand up. He gave her chest a light squeeze, and he could feel Charlie shivered subtly.

Without a word, Michael suddenly leaned down and captured a pert bud inside his mouth, one of his hands wandered up to the other one. Charlie gasped in surprise, blush spread all on her cheeks while her hand tangled in her boyfriend's hair. Michael took it as a cue, so he started to flick his tongue and moaned in delight when he noticed that Charlie started to arch herself into his mouth while letting out soft whines. His other hand massaged and squeezed the neglected breast. 

Then, feeling like he was satisfied with his work, Michael bit down hard, making Charlie jolted up with sudden pain and pleasure. He gave the swollen nipple one last lick and then did the same with Charlie's other breast.

It was too much , Charlie thought. Her head was clouded with euphoria, her eyes were filled with tears and her mouth let out sinful moans from her boyfriend's work on her body. She could feel that her panties were getting more and more drenched. Yet she was helpless, she could not do anything besides succumb to the lascivious feelings and gripped the man's hair and pushed him closer to herself. For someone who had not done this before, Michael was really excellent for his own good.

Charlie did not realize that Michael had done playing with her chest as she was so lost in the contentment, she only noticed when he leaned close to her face and locked her lips in a kiss. Unlike his eager behaviors before, he shyly licked on her bottom lip as if asking for permission, and Charlie compiled by opening her mouth to let him in. It was so tender and full of love. Their tongues intertwined together while letting their hands gently caressing each other's bodies. Michael pulled away for a moment to let Charlie breathe in. He was going to reach for Charlie's shorts, then a hand stopped him.

"It was unfair."

"What?"

"You agreed for us to take turns undressing each other and now you are going to pull down my shorts next? You are not even out of your shirt."  Charlie frowned and let out a small huff. 

Right, Michael almost forgot that offer. Well, could not blame him though. He was so immersed in looking at his girlfriends' face painted with lust that he did not even notice. So he leaned back and let Charlie unbutton his shirt to make up for her. The girl shakily slided his shirt down and stared at Michael's body, carefully placing a hand on to feel the hard muscle beneath. Michael was not nowhere near a small guy, hell, even he was bigger than average. It was just his preference for loose button-up shirts that people thought he was just some lanky guy. 

Charlie continued to stare in admiration, then she leaned down and bit Michael on his neck. Suddenly, the man let out a loud whine, his eyes closed and his face flushed up.

Oh. It must be his erogenous zone,  Charlie thought. A mischievous smile spread across her face as she began to lap and pull the skin on Michael's neck by her teeth. As a result, Michael began to whimper and moan in tandem, his arms wrapping Charlie's waist until she pulled away. She looked very pleased with her work as the bitemarks started to bloom like small flowers on her boyfriend's neck. Now the marks would indicate Michael was her only.

"You are so mean Charlie! Now people are gonna see those marks you left on me next morning!"  Michael pouted with a whine, his head rubbed against Charlie's chest while wrapping his arms around her to fake throwing a fit.

"Well, it's fine that now they know who you belong to, right?"  Charlie chuckled, amused with her boyfriend's antics. 

Michael did not say anything more, but gave her a false angry look. Suddenly, he flipped Charlie over and caged her under his body. He quickly pulled her shorts and panties down in one go then laughed at Charlie's yelp of surprise. His laughter slowly died down after he took a sight of Charlie's completely bare body, gulping. 

His hands gave Charlie a squeeze on her chest again, then gradually trailed down, from her tummy, then to her thighs, taking time to admire how smaller her body was compared to him and spreading her legs apart to look between them.

Michael tenderly rubbed his fingers against the bare cunt before him as if to test how Charlie felt. Nothing came out of her except a whine came along with a slow nod. 

Keep going.

As he got the green light, Michael felt more confident, he adjusted Charlie's legs to place them on his shoulders and leaned down, one hand spreading her labia wide apart and the other hand gathered slick substance to coat his own fingers while Charlie panted and whimpered softly.

Then in a blink of an eye, Michael slipped two fingers inside of Charlie and started to thrust in and out. She slightly jolted up because of the sudden intrusion, then melted away with the ectasy when Michael's fingers reached her sweet spot. She swore his fingers were so big, it pleased her better than the dildo she kept inside the drawer next to her bed. Her hands tightly gripping the bed sheet, her hips bucked up as a silence plead for more. Submitting to the demand, Michael bent forward and licked a stripe from her entrance up to her puffy clit, making her keened in desire. 

With both of her hands, Charlie tugged on Michael's hair, making him moan as she kept him closer to her wet core. Her body began to feel hotter, and she felt a coil slowly building up inside her stomach and was so close to burst with each slide of Michael's tongue against her clit and his fingers continuously thrusting in and out her cunt. 

It was too much, and Charlie did not know if she could take more. The noises coming out of both of them were so lewd, it set a wild blush from her cheeks down to her neck. She did not know whether she wanted Michael to stop because she was so sensitive now, or she wanted him to eat her out until she became a moaning, broken mess.

Her train of thoughts was interrupted when Michael harshly sucked on her clit, and his finger pressed firmly on the sweet spot inside her, and abruptly, she saw lights flashed behind her shut eyes with a loud wail of his name. 

"M-Mike!"

"Let go for me honey, you are being so good for me. Please make a mess on me."  Michael slightly tilted his head up to talk, his face was smeared with Charlie's release. His tongue and fingers slowed down the ministrations on her cunt, drawing out those cute whines of sensitivity from her lips. He waited until Charlie gained more consciousness to completely pull away and let her bask in the presence of post-orgasm feeling. 

Her eyes were hooded, her cheeks were painted in a bright blush and her mouth occasionally let out heavy pants due to what Michael did to her just a moment ago. Slowly, her hands raised to his face, tugging him in for a kiss. Their tongues met again, and Charlie could taste herself on her significant other's tongue. Michael lightly tugged on her lip piercings as to tease her, then he drew back.

"You have done so good, Mike. But it’s my turn now."  She stated when pulling away from the kiss. 

Charlie lightly hit her hands against Michael's chest, telling him to lean back to the headboard so she could get on top. When his back hit the wooden surface, Charlie's dainty hands moved to undress his lower part.

Her face heated up as she began to tear down Michael's trousers, now leaving him in the boxers, stained with precum. She was speechless, her eyes opened wide. 

That thing was so big. Massive, even. How the hell was it going to fit inside Charlie?

Sensing the girl in front of him's nervousness, Michael placed a hand on her cheek, lightly rubbing.

"Don't worry, if you are nervous about it won't fit, we can find another way to please me, okay?"

"But I want to have yours inside me!"  Charlie exclaimed, then suddenly clasped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment, cause she accidentally voiced her thoughts too loud for her own liking.

"Oh. Then, do as you please, okay? Just don't strain yourself too hard."  Michael tilted his head to the side, the hand on Charlie's head now back beside the pillow.

Charlie silently nodded, her hands wobbly stripped down the final garment on Michael's body, his leg now spread open for easier access. She took a deep breath to prepare herself for what would come, then deliberately leaned down to give a small lick on the head, which made Michael shivered.

He loved this.

Getting the signals, Charlie began to bob her head down until the tip touched her throat. It was not that uncomfortable like she thought, but Michael was too big, the remaining part of him was not fit in her mouth, so she pulled away and decided to lick around his cock first. Charlie could feel him twitching under her touch, which was a good thing. She hummed in approval, then took it inside of her mouth again while her hand stroked the part that did not fit inside. First started out slow, now she began to pick up the pace, trying to alternate between sucking on the head and tracing her tongue against the vein there. 

As Charlie tried to quicken her pace, Michael began to grow hotter and bothered. Who knew his girlfriend was that good with her mouth?  He looked down, seeing drool and spit coating his cock and groaned at the sight. He started to thrust up his hips, his hands settled down on Charlie’s head to push her deeper. The girl almost choked on his cock, tears beginning to well up in her eyes, her pace paused. Now the one in charge was Michael and he would make sure to take the whole advantage out of this. His hands clutched Charlie's hair firmly, eyes shut tight from the thirst overcame his body.

“I did not know— Argh, you can do this well with your mouth, baby. Are you gonna let me cum inside of your adorable little mouth?”  Michael growled, he could sense his climax coming. His thrust was getting sloppy, so he decided to shove Charlie’s head down more and held her in place, as his cock jerked and shot the release into her throat, some of it dripped outside of her mouth and down to her chest.

He began to soften when Charlie’s mouth left him. She pulled away, panting in exhaustion. Michael noticed her face was stained white with his cum, so he placed a hand on her cheek and wiped the remaining with his thumb. He was going to reach for the tissue box to clean up, but Charlie caught him off guard by leaning over and letting her tongue out, licking up the salty liquid with a smile.

Fuck, why did she have to be such a tease?

Michael helped Charlie to sit on his lap again, letting her use his body as support to rest a bit from their previous activities. He softly patted her head, gently stroked her back and whispered  “You did very well for me Charlie, I’m so proud of you.”  as the girl in his lap recovered from the orgasm.

“Mike? You with me?”  Charlie chirped, as she noticed Michael started zoning out. Her voice snapped him out of the daydream immediately. He blushed, scratching his head.

“O-Oh! Sorry, just zoned out. Do you want to continue?”

“Mhm. Let me fetch the lube inside the drawer. Gotta prepare well for the main event, big boy.”  As Charlie talked, she crawled out of Michael’s lap and bent down to pick up the said thing. Michael could not help but let his eyes wander to her ass. It looked so round and soft, he made a mental note to get his hands on it next time. He could feel his cock starting to grow stiff again.

Charlie was now back on her bed again, in her hand was a bottle of lube. She uncapped the bottle and poured some on her hand and rubbed them against each other so they could be smeared evenly. Her hands reached out to coat Michael’s cock with the substance, and when she felt that was enough, she leaned back and thrusted her fingers inside of her to prepare herself.

Michael watched as Charlie lubing him and herself up, and when she was done, he picked her up and maneuvered her with her back to the mattress, his body on top of her. Her legs clasping around his waist, her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. He took a deep breath, then started to slide his cock between Charlie’s wet folds and bumping against her clit, making her tremble with need. He continued to do it a few times, until Charlie whined, begging him to just put in already. 

Michael took a deep breath, one of his hands now engulfed Charlie’s smaller palm and set them beside her head and he let out a breath.

“Ready?”

“Always. Please, Michael, I need— Ah!”

Charlie’s words were cut off midway when Michael started thrusting in. He tried to go slow at first, because Charlie was really tight at the moment, her velvety walls clenched around him just like a vice. He felt like it was almost impossible to go furthermore. As an effort trying to ease his girlfriend, Michael bowed forward, placing a few kisses on her forehead, on her cheeks and a quick peck on her lips.

“Relax, Charlie. You are so tight, how will I be able to go in?”

Just as he said, Charlie sluggishly nodded and took a deep breath and angled her hips up high so Michael could go in more easily. Complying with the request, Michael slowly pushed inside, until he was bottomed out inside of her.

It did not hurt a little bit, but Charlie felt quite unfamiliar due to having something large like that inside. Michael paused his pace, as he was allowing her to get used to the feelings of him stretching her out. It was not long until Charlie nodded and told him to go on with the flow.

It was the only confirmation Michael needed to continue.

Then he splitted Charlie open, his thick cock went inside her and made her whole body shudder in delight. Her teeth bit down on her lips and drew out some blood, small whimpers escaping her.

“No, don’t do that darling. I want to hear from you. Don’t shy away.”  Michael noticed that she was trying to hide her moans, so he pulled out his sad puppy eyes on her, to persuade her not to do that. As he was doing that, one of his hands snuck down to rub on her swollen clit. Charlie obliged, turning her hips upwards and let out more moans, which were louder than before. Michael beamed with happiness, praising her.

“Good, that’s my girl. You were so good at taking me. Can you handle more?” 

He did not even wait for her to answer his question, his head now settled down on her shoulder, and bit on her neck while still did not stop thrusting inside Charlie with a steady pace. Pulling back and adjusting his back straight, Michael tilted his head down to look at his girl. 

She was truly a masterpiece in his hands, an angel at his mercy. Her black hair, usually combed neatly, now was a mess tangled up and Michael reached out to swipe her bangs up. Her forehead was sweaty, her cheeks were stained with red blush. Her green eyes were clouded with satisfication, her supple pink lips were swollen and let out soft pants and moans, and her neck was littered with the pink and purple evidence of his teeth. 

But what made Michael almost out of his mind was the imprint of his cock on her belly. He tugged Charlie’s hand from its place beside her and set it down on her stomach.

"Here honey, easy. Can you feel how deep I am inside of you? Must have been good, right?"

That made Charlie’s face heated up, her eyes rolling back. She didn't say anything beside nodding along with his words in agreement, since now she could know how deep and how hard Michael was fucking her.

A pitiful moan escaped her mouth, following with a hard thrust from Michael. His hand on her belly could feel the movement of his cock stirring up her inside.

“O-Oh god, Mike— You are, ah, s-so deep…”  She trailed off as he began to speed up his thrusts. 

Now since Charlie was used to the feelings, Michael took it as a cue to fuck into her roughly. The sounds of labored breathing, their moans mixing up with the slapping noises of their skin against each other, all combined to make a lecherous orchesta. There were praises and words of encouragement coming from both of them, telling how good it was, or if the spot was hit, they were so lost in the pleasure that they could not realize whose voices it was.

Heat rushed through Charlie’s veins, warming her whole body in the process and made her become wetter. Michael was too huge, the way his cock stretching her, the way her cunt deliciously hurted by his actions drove her to insanity. Her whole body trembling in lust, she swore she could feel how tears began to roll down her cheeks and saliva escaping her mouth. 

Michael was not too different from her. His sweaty bangs stuck to his forehead as his hand tightly held Charlie’s in his, the size difference between them making him shudder. His blue eyes now blurred and he could feel his whole muscles tightened. The fact that Charlie’s tight pussy was pulling him in greedily was not helping much as he almost lost his mind to the delight. The flow of bliss continued to invade his body, making Michael unable to stop thrusting his hips. His hand rubbing on Charlie’s clit previously now moved up and planted next to her head to hold himself up, occasionally moved to place over the girl’s hand on her belly to press down on his bulge. 

Michael suddenly stopped grinding inside to Charlie’s surprise, then he moved her legs, adjusting both of them into the mating press position. With this stance, he could reach deeper inside of her, and it allowed deeper grinding as he trailed light kisses down her thighs and bit down.

Charlie yelped, pouting at Michael and the latter licked at the bite marks as if saying sorry before continuing his abuse on her tender cunt. If it was so good before, then now it was definitely better, because not only Michael could reach deeper inside of her pussy, the position also created a wonderful friction between her clit and Michael’s happy trail. His cock continuously hit her sweet spot, and Charlie did not know if she ever could take much more. She had never felt such much pleasure like this in her whole life, she felt like she was going to lose it, as Michael was going to break her. She could not do anything else besides crying out, demanding him to keep going. His hand now came up to pinch on her nipple, making her vision hazy and littered with stars. There was nothing inside of her mind right now, besides Michael, his cock kept pushing inside of her, his hand roaming on her body and his praises.

With another rough thrust, Charlie felt as if her world had been broken.

Her body arched up, one of her hands still tightly held Michael’s hand, while the other gripped the bed sheet. Charlie now was a mess, she looked like a ragdoll. Her eyes were unfocused, her legs were trembling. Her body was covered in a layer of sweat and blush. The orgasmic feelings spread out all over her body. She was so tired, but also very content.

However, Michael had not cum yet.

Charlie only realized that when she looked down and realized Michael was still inside and the younger man kept a steady pace of thrusting. She let out a pathetic whine, pleading with him to stop because she was too sensitive and did not know if she could handle more, or at least slow down but Michael just looked up at her and pouted,

“I’m sorry, but can you endure a little bit more for me baby? Please, just a bit longer, I was so— Ah!”

He shuddered, his cock twitched inside of Charlie and flooded her walls with milky white liquid, also triggering another orgasm from her. His cum mixing with her own release, and it was too much to the point his cum dripped down the sheet even when he was plugging inside her cunt. For a few moments, Michael stayed like this with Charlie until his cock was softened enough to pull out. He let out a loud sigh as he removed himself from the girl’s used hole and gently placed her legs back on the bed. 

Charlie winced as she felt his cum leaking out of her and making a mess, as Michael gathered the white substance with his fingers to stuff it back inside. She sighed, using her hands to cover up her eyes as she was tired and the lights were too blinding for now. Her chest slowly rose and fell with each breath she took. It was such an erotic sight, and he felt like as if he was blessed to see this, Michael had to admit.

Michael moaned out loud when he stretched, as he realized his muscles now were a bit sore. He flopped down gracelessly beside Charlie, humming in delight. He was no longer a virgin now, and it was far better than those amateur porns he beat his meat to before. He snuggled closer to Charlie, and she also moved closer to cuddle him. 

It was such a peaceful moment, there was nothing but their soft breathing and the sound of rain falling outside.

Charlie almost fell asleep due to the tranquil atmosphere, then Michael’s warmth against her left her unexpectedly. Her eyes widened.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to fetch a cloth to clean us up. Also you need to pee after sex, duh.”  Michael replied nonchalantly while standing at the bed’s end, hands on his hips.  “Can you walk or do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?”

“Carry me please.”  Charlie whined, her arms opening so her boyfriend could pick her up. Her legs felt like mush now, and she thought if she took a step she would fall flat on her face.

Michael snickered, saying  “As you wish, my liege.”  before bending down and picking Charlie up in bridal style. He set her down on the toilet so she could deal with her bladder while he changed the sheets and grabbed a clean towel to wet it. After cleaning himself up, he turned to Charlie and gently patted her private parts with the dampened cloth. Then he carried Charlie back to her bed, and got up again to find some clean underwear for both of them to wear. He found himself some spare boxers that Charlie kept  “just in case”  and put them in. When he returned back to the bed with a pair of cotton panties for her to wear, he found Charlie asleep soundly, still stark naked and curled up into a ball.

He smiled to himself because she was so adorable looking like this. The sex must have worn her out so much, so Michael tried to be quiet as much as possible when he slipped the cotton undergarments on her. Then he laid down next to her, pulled up the comforter while hugging her closer to himself.

His nose was nestled in her hair, inhaling the soft smell of her natural scent mixed with the smell of after sex and caressing her back. He murmured out a quiet  “Love you so much ”, then the weight of the dreamland began to crash down his eyes.

But before he completely fell asleep, he could swear that he heard a sleepy feminine voice slurring out,

“Love you too…”

[harrystylesfan2686]

Deserve

Pairing: BestFriend!Harry x Reader

Summary: YN, Harry and another guy have been best friends for a long time and YN has always like the other guy but didn't say anything because she was overweight and though the guy didn't like him back but then he confesses.

AN: Harry doesn't really have much role in this one but I just wanted to write this because personal experience...

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

I take out my key from my bag, walking up to my apartment door. I open the door and lur on the light. I gasp at the sight in front of me.

My living room is full of pink and red balloons with candles. A slow song is playing in the background. In the middle stands Hans with a Bouquet of roses.

Hans is my best friend, well, my other best friend. We are a trio of best friends, me, Harry and Hans. We have been best friends since we were 8. Harry and my moms are best friends so naturally we are too since we spend literally every day together from our birth. Hans came around in 1st grade.

We have been inseparable from the moment we met. We went through everything together. I saw them at their worst and held them close when they needed it and so did they. They were there for me when I cried or worked my ass out to lose weight when it got too much.

And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Hans.

I have lost count of how many times I have cried to Harry because I can't show my real feelings of Hans. Now he stand in my house with roses and a smile that make me melt every time.

"Hans, what are you doing here?" I nervously chuckle, hoping to god this isn't a dream.

He comes closer to me since I seem to forget how to walk. "These are for you" He gives me the bouquet with a smile.

"T-thank you" I smell the flowers and look at him. "But why?"

"I have a confession to make." He says taking my free hand in his. My heart is beating very loudly and I'm breathing heavily.

"These past few months, ever since you had that... change in you." He hesitates looking at me. I know what he means, ever since I lost weight. "I have been feeling differently."

"I am starting to like you. More than a friend." He looks me in the eyes, something soft behind them.

Oh my God.

"This is too much, don't you think?" I point at our surroundings, filled with candles and balloons.

"Well you always liked grand gestures." He laughs.

He touches my cheek. "Harry told me." He doesn't need to explain for me to understand that he told him about my feelings. "I like you too, darling"

I forget how to breath when he put his forehead to mine. "Will you be my girlfriend, baby?"

I'm about to say yes when I get a strange feeling. I frown when I repeat his words in my head.

Ever since you had that... change in you. I have been feeling differently.

I suddenly get a huge flashback of mamories of everytime he made comments about my weight and told me I don't look good in things I wear. How he would look at me with disgust every time I wore something that showed my strech marked skin. He was so bad to me.

He doesn't deserve me.

I take a step back creating space between us when I realize it. He frowns in confusion.

"Y/N" He looks at me worriedly.

"No" I whisper giving him the bouquet back.

"What?" He says.

"No" I say firmly this time. "I won't be your girlfriend."

"Is this a joke." He laughs nervously but stops when he realizes I'm not kidding. "Why"

"Because I remember how rude you were to me about my weight." I look at him with a hard look. "If you didn't accept me at my worse, you don't deserve me at my best."

I don't wait for his reaction and turn back with tears in my eyes. I get out of the house leaving him in my living room. I don't turn to look at him one last time because I know if I do I might forget everything and take him back.

I drive straight to Harry's house without letting a tear drop and only cry in his arms letting in all the comfort he's giving. He tries to get me to talk but I can't get a word out so I just sob in his embrace.

I don't think everything will be the same again.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

[psychic-refugee]

They were born under suspicious and mysterious circumstances. Conceived during a blackout of the entire town of Jericho, even the animals in the fields were not immune to the hours no one could recall.

Ten women had found themselves pregnant, one who had claimed to be virgin and the other not sexually active for years since her husband died.

Nine months later, at the stroke of midnight on Friday the 13th of October, ten children were born.

All were born healthy but one.

A little boy who had not a chance to cry was stillborn, the mother named him Rowan.

The town was not sure what they were expecting, but they were all surprised when each child born looked perfectly normal, and each had taken after their mothers. The only exception was that each had soul searing eyes the colour of gems. From Wednesday’s dark onyx to Xavier’s emerald green, each child seemed to be an old soul with too much knowledge behind their bright, almost luminescent eyes.

The town had started to call them Outcasts, as other families rejected the children and proclaimed them cursed, and they were not allowed in normal daycare and were already barred from attending school.

The children were eerily quiet as they grew. When they became school aged, they had paired off, one boy to one girl.

Only Wednesday was left standing alone, an Outcast amongst the Outcasts. She did not seem to mind, as her family had continued to have children and she was the only one amongst the Outcast children to have a sibling.

The government assigned a permanent social worker to live in Jericho and had started a school just for them. An old, abandoned mansion on the hill.

The children chose to wear matching uniforms and always walked in two rows, perfectly in step with one another.

Except for Wednesday, who was always at the end and tended to go off by herself.

Bianca, paired with Xavier, had emerged as their leader, and spoke for them as a whole.

It didn’t take long for Larissa to determine that the children had powers. She had found the bodies of those from town who were the most vocal that the children were cursed or unnatural, littering their courtyard.

To protect the children and not cause a mob, she quietly disposed of the bodies herself and tried her best to impart the need of diplomacy and living in harmony.

“It’s hard to be diplomatic when they have plans to burn the building down with us inside,” was all Bianca would say.

How the child knew that, Larissa was too afraid to ask.

Larissa suspected that Wednesday would have been the leader if her intended mate had survived his birth. Both girls seemed to constantly be at odds, with Bianca struggling to keep her hold on her position, despite having a mate.

Sometimes Bianca would find Wednesday laying flowers at Rowan’s grave.

“This ongoing display of sentimentality is disturbing,” Bianca told Wednesday, she couldn’t understand why her podmate cared, especially for one she had never met. “As is your…attachment to your host family.”

“Neither of which are your concern,” Wednesday spoke with an edge and warning in her voice.

Onyx eyes met sapphire, Bianca was cautious as she felt there were only so many more psychic fights she could have with the other Outcast before she finally lost.

“We will be fully sexually mature soon,” as they had each turned seventeen recently. “And of an age where childbearing would not be too dangerous for us.”

“I do not have a mate,” Wednesday was already bored with the conversation and didn’t know why Bianca was bringing it up.

“Yes, without a mate you are useless to us…” Bianca decided to choose her words carefully as some of the headstones started to show stress fractures. “But with a culling, then that issue could be solved.”

“A culling? How could you think of doing such a thing? There are only nine of us left.”

“Indeed. But you are powerful, while Enid is not. She has not shown any discernable power…other than an utterly useless and embarrassing ability to grow her fingernails. She is a waste, and I would not have Ajax sire more useless children or dilute his bloodline. She will be culled, and he will be reassigned to you.”

“He would not be happy with that.”

“What he would be happy with is not my concern, my concern is the survival of our species. As you’ve said, we are the last of our kind. The other pods have not survived, we are the last hope. Once she is dead, he will not be able to resist the call to breed, and neither will you. Even if you resist pairing off, you won’t have a choice in the end.”

Bianca was done with the conversation and left Wednesday to brood.

Later that night, Wednesday snuck out of her dorm that she shared with Enid. On her way out, she greeted Ajax who had snuck out of his own dorm to visit his mate.

Unbeknownst to Bianca, some of them had already felt the call and had no desire to resist and wait for the others to catch up.

She walked to a shed on the campus grounds, and inside stood Bianca’s intended mate.

Xavier was the most handsome of their pod, in Wednesday’s estimation. Perhaps they were too human, some of them inherited their mother’s empathy and desires.

The knowledge of their kind and the instinct to pair off were in their blood. Perhaps if Rowan had survived, she would not have looked to another’s predestined mate, but her eyes had always found their way to Xavier’s.

His own emerald eyes had always found hers.

The heat of the shed rose as they came close to one another, neither bothering to greet the other as they pulled each other into savage kisses. He easily picked her up, and with much practice she automatically wrapped her legs around his torso.

Their powers caused literal sparks and pulses of light to burst around them. Unlike with Enid and Ajax, their affair could not be hidden if they made love at the school. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades as he bit into her neck.

They were lucky their uniform hid a lot of sins.

The shed was almost in shambles as it normally was after they made love. Xavier lazily waved his hand as his powers started to fix what they had damaged. They cuddled together on a mattress they had dragged out there, under thin blankets.

“We’ll have to hurry our plans along. Bianca plans to cull Enid and assign Ajax to replace Rowan,” she said in her normal deadpan cadence.

Xavier sighed, as he knew what needed to be done.

“It’s just as well, we won’t be able to hide the little one much longer anyway,” he said softly as he kissed the small swell of her belly, and she stroked his hair.

“Neither will Enid and Ajax,” who were in the same position.

“Do you think any of the others have started to mate?”

“Doubtful. Divina and Kent are brainless and follow Bianca completely. Tyler and Yoko are totally disinterested in the opposite sex. I can only presume Bianca has not felt the call due to your disinterest in her. She expects it to start soon however, and she’ll want Enid gone before she thinks they’ll mate.”

“Tomorrow then.”

“After we deal with Bianca, we need to plan for when the Normies of Jericho start to panic when they find out we’re producing children.”

He looked at her with his luminescent green eyes, boring into her mind and showing her exactly what he’d do to anyone who threatened her and their child. It sent a shiver down her spine, and for a brief second even she was frightened of the darkness she saw in his soul.

“I will rain fire down upon Jericho before they even think of coming after us. I’ll see their entire species wiped from the earth before any harm comes to you.”

Together, they would turn mountains into dust and strike down their enemies with impunity.

Normies didn’t know it just yet, but their extinction event started with a kiss and a dark promise.  

[letterstonamjoon]

Equality

What do you think is gender equality?

Is it when women can do what men do?

“Globally, 20% contracts were from women-led companies, but they only contributed 1% revenue”. Yesterday, I participated in the opening of a women focus initiative of a large consumer manufacturing corporation. The reason is that most women's businesses are small and medium sized. So, is it fair to push businesses into women's hands and make them grow? If it were me, would I want to start my own business and become the owner of a large enterprise with several thousand employees? Or would I rather satisfy with the small size?

When I was a child, I always wanted to do the things boys do. One time, in a movie, there was a line about a character who looked like a boy: "Ah, that person urinates sitting down, so that's a woman." So from then on, I always urinated standing up when taking a shower, as if to prove that girls can urinate standing up too.

I read many stories about how disadvantageous it was to be a woman that during a period of my youth, I also thought the same thing. Such as bleeding once a month which was very tiring, pregnancy caused changes in the body and weakened health, and wives had many obligations in life, like managing the house, children, domestic and foreign affairs of both parties. I once wished that I was born as a boy.

I have a younger brother. Being born only 14 months after me, my younger brother is somehow like an older brother, the one who took my place in getting married and giving birth to grandchildren for my parents while I was still adventurous when I was young. In my generation, the ideology of favoring boys over girls is still very strong. Luckily, we are loved and treated fairly by our parents. In fact, because of our personality differences, I can even create more space for myself to live and experience the way I wanted.

The more I experience, the more I feel that being a woman is a privilege, not a disadvantage. Actually, I think whatever gender we are born into will have its own interesting experiences. I think the important thing is how we receive events, whether actively or passively. I wanted my child to be born, and enjoyed the days when the little creature grew up inside me with excitement and love. My gay friend also wants to be a parent, but it's not as easy as me finding a sperm. I don't want to worry about domestic or foreign affairs, so I did not get married to avoid the headache.

People are tired of having to follow social conventions, that being a woman has to be this or that. There is a saying in our place: "Women are good at country work and responsible for housework". If they practice according to that saying and feel happy, it's good. But if they feel unhappy because they have to be recognized as good women, then aren't they making themselves miserable? There is no guarantee that what everyone does is right. And if you know that's not right, then it's okay to go against the majority.

For some reason, I feel uncomfortable every time I hear about or have to attend a women's association, such as a women's entrepreneur association, or even receive flowers on International Women's Day. That discriminatory thinking itself has created inequality.

Back to the story of female entrepreneurs at the beginning. Have you ever thought why the 4 largest entertainment companies in Korea are in the hands of men? Why are men often better at business than women? In what fields are women often successful?

I think It's better to stop thinking about gender and just focus on respecting and supporting each individual to achieve their goals.

In your opinion, what is the measure of success for each gender (in their own minds)?

[appreciatingtokrev]

of loving men and /loving/ men

link to ao3

rating: t (rated t for mentions/descriptions of abuse, neglect, trauma, death, and grief)

archive warnings: chose not to use archive warnings

relationships: kisaki hideko (kisaki tetta’s mother) & kisaki tetta

characters: kisaki hideko (kisaki tetta’s mother)

additional tags: hanma shuji, mentioned kisaki tetta, kisaki tetta dies, kisaki tetta’s father, non-linear narrative, angst, hurt no comfort, character study, relationship study, regret, grief/mourning, family issues, physical abuse, emotional/psychological abuse, past domestic violence, neglect, child neglect, past child abuse, trauma, mental health issues, minor character death, canonical character death, original character death(s)

wordcount: ~4.3k

notes: her name is (with permission) directly taken from the diary of a boy who will never be missed by @/ruoyeah on ao3 btw,, this fic is also inspired by said work, as well as mourning sickness by @/dazed (spiritscript), also on ao3!! also i think i could write abt hideko forever i grew too attached to her... i love her sm and somehow writing this was very easy?? i see it as a win

Tetta’s mother is a wreck. Hideko is a wreck. Hideko is a punching bag, a ghost, and anything she could possibly be, except herself.

Or: A study on Kisaki Tetta’s mother.

She sees him standing in front of her son’s grave. His name is Hanma, she guesses, and he looks just as sad as she does with his shoulders held low and his hood on his head. Her hair is starting to go gray, and she’s only thirty-five. She’s not pretty anymore, and she’s still so young. The grief doesn’t suit her.

He turns around as she walks closer, recognising the familiar blue in her eyes. ,,Are you Kisaki’s mother?’’, he asks, and the grief doesn’t suit him either. He’s letting his hair grow out, it seems, and his voice is monotone. There’s no smile decorating his lips, only a cigarette.

,,I’m Kisaki Hideko’’, she introduces herself, ,,I believe that you’re Hanma? You were his friend.’’ She tries to smile, but the corners of her mouth only waver.

 

,,I’m Kisaki Hideko’’, she introduces herself, ,,I got married last month. Please change my name in your database.’’ She smiles. Her hair isn’t gray yet.

,,Oh, congratulations!’’, the girl at the counter exclaims, and types something into the computer in front of her. Probably her new name. It feels too fresh, too unfamiliar, but she likes the sound of it. Kisaki. Like her husband. Like the little boy that’s growing in her womb.

,,Thank you, dear’’, she says and bows her head. ,,I’m very happy, he’s a loving man.’’ A loving man who kisses her belly every morning, and who runs his fingers through her hair. A loving man who brings her flowers, and makes her tea. A loving man who’s never home, and hits her with his belt. She’s still not sure which part is real and which part she pretends is.

,,I’m very glad for you. I hope to one day marry a man like yours’’, the girl says, smiling, fully believing it’s real. It makes her believe it’s real. That he’s a loving man, and that the little Kisaki inside her belly will turn out to be a loving man, too. She’s sure of it.

 

And Tetta was a loving man. Perhaps he was too loving for his girl. Perhaps she was too loving for him. Or not loving enough. It was hard to love when the people you love loved through abuse and neglect. She now knows that she did it wrong herself. Loving. All her life, she thought that there was one thing you couldn’t fail, no matter what—and yet here she is, standing in front of a gravestone, with everything she ever claimed to love buried six feet under.

She now knows that she loved wrongly. She fell in love with the wrong man, gave birth to the wrong boy, and raised him wrongly. Both the loving man that she married and the loving man that she carried in her belly for nine months are dead, and she doesn’t think she ever wanted to love them at all. Not the man who hit her when he wasn’t away like always, and not the man who was away when he didn’t hit her like always.

 

Tetta always watches when he hits her. She doesn’t know why. Out of fear, maybe, out of power, out of love. He looks at her with those big eyes full of pain and hate and rage. She hopes that the hate and rage are for her husband. And she looks back with the same emotions on her face.

She hugs Tetta when he leaves the room, holds him close. He doesn’t move. She lays her head on his shoulder, and she doesn’t cry. He’s already five years old. It’s nothing new.

 

It’s nothing new when Tetta comes home with bruises. He’s thirteen, and he’s a delinquent, and he knows what to do. He knows half of the books in the library by heart, and she knows how double the bruises on his body feel. They feel like love. She smiles, he must have a loving boy. Girls don’t hit, only boys do, and she doesn’t care because her son looks normal and loved.

She teaches Tetta how to hide the bruises, how to touch them up with makeup. They’re standing in front of the bathroom sink. She’s looking at his blue eyes in the mirror. They’re the same color as hers, the same color as the sky, the same color as the monster in her nightmares. They’re beautiful. She corrects Tetta when he applies too much foundation. It’s meant to look like his skin is perfect. No bruises, no makeup. Flawless, just like everything else about him.

Tetta comes home with blood on his face and broken glasses. He wears a proud smile. She asks him what happened, why he’s so happy. He says that he watched a horrible person die a horrible death. That day, she wonders if he saw her smile as she watched her loving man die. She wonders if his loving boy died. She wonders if she killed him. She wonders if he did.

 

Days after Tetta’s death, it’s the first time in eighteen years that she allows herself to try and break down the facade again. It’s hard. It’s hard to let out the seventeen year old girl in herself when she was defined by having money, smiling, and being hit for so long. It’s hard to let out the little kid in herself when she wanted nothing but for herself to be a good mother, and she failed nothing except that. It’s hard when you ended up being the most unloving loving mother. But, still, she tries her best. So she goes to buy a stuffed cat and cuts it open with a pair of scissors after she comes home. And then she cries.

 

One day, she notices that Tetta hasn’t come home with bruises in a while. ,,Does he not love you anymore?’’, she asks him.

,,Who?’’, he asks back, staring at her face with his blue eyes. With her blue eyes. And his cheekbones. And jawline. And eyebrows, and ears, and lips, and teeth, and hair color. He bleaches his hair a lot, but it’s not enough to cover the black roots. It’s like makeup. It fades out, and it stops hiding the ugly bruises she gets from her loving man. It stops hiding the black hair he inherited from his loving father.

,,You know, the boy you love. The one who caused all the bruises. He must’ve loved you as much as my husband loved me’’, she explains. What she’s talking about is all normal, she tells herself, it’s how love is supposed to work. Because love is suffering through pain for someone, love is covering up the issues for them, love is looking at your bruises at night, and it’s smiling about your lover’s dead body at the foot of the stairs.

,,Oh, he’s gone. But there’s a girl I’ve loved for even longer. She’s precious. She wouldn’t ever hit anyone’’, Tetta says. She wonders if his loving boy was the one who he smiled about when he came home with broken glasses, but she doesn’t ask. It’s not important anyway. She’s glad that there’s a girl that he loves so much. She’s glad that he doesn’t get hit anymore. She’s glad that she pushed him down the stairs, and that Tetta smiled about his death.

 

Her father reaches for her hand, and she flinches away before grabbing his. She squeezes his fingers, doesn’t let go. ,,My precious daughter....’’, he breathes out, and she tries to pretend that it means something as he continues, ,,I love you. Don’t cry.’’ She does. She sobs, horribly, and she screams. The word love doesn’t mean anything to her, but she feels like she’s robbed of everything she’s ever had. His hand slips from hers, he’s dead. And she’s all alone, because her loving man is at work, away, somewhere at the other end of the sea, and she doesn’t have anyone else.

 

Tetta’s favorite food is fried rice with lots of vegetables, and she makes sure to cook it often. Just for him. Hence, she’s filling bowls with tofu, spicy rice, and lots of carrots. She sets the table, makes sure to place his plate between his chopsticks and a glass of water, right beside her own. ,,Tetta!’’, she calls, ,,Dinner is ready.’’ Soon after, he arrives as she’s already sitting on her chair, waiting for him to join in, but he just grabs his food and chopsticks. He turns around, goes back to his room. She sighs, and starts her dinner, and it tastes as bland as every day that she has it alone because her own son won’t look her in the eyes.

 

,,Hanma Shuji. Nice to meet you, ma’am’’, he says. She has to look up to see his eyes. He’s so much taller than her, than Tetta, about the height of her late husband. His eyes are dull, one is yellow, one purple. She doesn’t know why she searches for the blue in every pair.

,,I’m sorry’’, is all she can manage. She doesn’t know what else to say. Her son is dead, and she loved him so much that it wasn’t enough. She wishes that she’d never given birth to him. She wishes that she’d never loved him.

 

,,I hate you’’, she whispers, cradling Tetta in her arms. He’s sleeping soundly, and she doesn’t want to wake him. He looks so peaceful, so weak wrapped up in the white blanket. It scares her. It scares her; that he could die.

,,I hate you so much, Tetta. I wish I would’ve never given birth to you’’, she continues to whisper. She loves him. She hopes that he’ll live forever. Tetta’s just a little boy, and he deserves the world, she thinks. He deserves everything that she gives him, and everything that she doesn’t.

 

She hates the grave that she stands in front of. Her hair is starting to go gray, and there are two bodies buried under the flowers. Two loving men. One that she loved too much, and one that she didn’t love enough. She misses the bruises. She misses the laughter. She misses herself. But she doesn’t miss either of the dead men.

 

Often, she dreams of blue skies, and she’s just a little girl dreaming of happiness and comfort. She dreams of blue skies over green flower fields, blue skies over dark and mysterious forests, blue skies over rivers running full of blood. She’s only four, she’s only five, she’s only six, only seven, eight, nine, ten. She doesn’t know what the blue skies and the rivers full of blood mean. Sometimes she wishes she does.

 

Her loving man leans down, gets on one knee, and holds up a little ring. She knows that it’s his grandmother’s wedding ring, and that it means the world to him. He asks if she wants to marry him, and she says yes as she breaks out in tears. She doesn’t know if she cries because she’s happy or if she does because she’s sad. He doesn’t hold her.

He never holds her. He didn’t hold her when she was seventeen, he didn’t hold her when her father died, he didn’t hold her on the day they got married. He didn’t hold her when she gave birth to their son. He wasn’t even there. All he ever does is give her money, and flowers, and expensive dresses, and yet another credit card. She’s happy, she’s glad that she can create her own life, but sometimes she just really wants to be held.

 

Tetta never tells her about his friends. She asks and asks, but he always says that he doesn’t want to talk. She says that she knows that he sneaks in every day, every night, that he could walk through the door instead. He says that she’s hallucinating. That she’s making it up to make him feel bad about not ever bringing anyone over.

One day, Tetta tells her that his name is Hanma. That she should finally stop asking questions, because it’s his business, not hers. So she does. She starts pressing her ear to the door of his room and smiles when she hears them laugh. She smiles when he hears Tetta curse out Hanma for eating chips on his bed. She smiles when she hears Hanma’s screams of joy for winning a video game and Tetta’s snickers about how his mother shouldn’t find out that he’s there.

 

Their house always feels so empty. Most of the time, Tetta is there, but it’s as if he isn’t. He’s completely silent, staying in his room all day, closing the door when he comes into the kitchen to get food. She doesn’t know what to make of it. She tells him that he doesn’t always have to study, that he can take breaks, tells him that she won’t be mad if he’s in the living room, that it’s okay if he makes noises, that she won’t go and snoop around in his things if he doesn’t lock the door. But Tetta doesn’t listen, and she feels so guilty and helpless, and she tries to forget it by always having television run in the background.

Tetta starts to go out with his delinquent friends a lot, and while she’s happy for him, she’s mostly happy for herself. He has a good life, he does nice things, and she doesn’t have to feel miserable about their house feeling so empty all the time because it is. There is no loving man in their house, most of the time, and neither is there a loving boy. And she feels alone, so very alone and lonely, but now she has the right to be sad about it.

 

She picks up the stuffed cat that her mother just bought her. It’s fluffy, and big, and warm. It makes her feel safe. She looks at her mother, into her dark eyes, and she searches for something she’s never seen. ,,Go play in your own room. I need to do work. Hush!’’, she shoos, gesturing towards the door. She looks back one last time, then leaves, running away until she climbs onto her bed. She takes her scissors and starts to cut open the fluffy cat because there is no love in her mother’s eyes, and the only affection she gets is money. And it doesn’t matter anyway because she will just buy her a new one without asking what happened to the other.

 

When Tetta brings home good grades, she smiles. When Tetta brings home bruises, she smiles. When Tetta brings home books, she smiles. When Tetta gets brought home in a casket, she smiles. All she’s ever done is smile, and she only stops after she knows that her loving men are both dead because she’s seen both of their corpses. She thinks that she should hate herself. She’s sad, and she’s not smiling anymore, but she’s relieved that they’re gone. She’s always been scared of the name Kisaki.

She loves Tetta. She loves him with all her heart, all her might, and she loves that he’s dead. She wishes that he’d never died. She wishes that she’d raised him differently. That she’d gotten rid of her husband earlier in life. That she’d never given birth to her son. That he’d been born into another family. She still loves him too much.

 

,,What for?’’, he asks. He lifts his cigarette up to his lips, takes another drag. He turns his head away to breathe out the smoke, caring enough not to blow it into her face. She wonders why this boy cares more than hers ever did.

,,For loving him’’, she says. It doesn’t make sense to him, she knows that, but it’s the truth. She’s sorry for everything. And everything she’s ever done was love the wrong man and love the wrong son.

Hanma looks at her. This time he doesn’t look away to breathe out the smoke, blows it right into her face. She coughs, does her best to stop. She stares up at his face. His eyebrows are softer, his jawline is even sharper, his cheekbones are lower, his lips are wider, his hair is darker than the bleach and lighter than the roots, and his ears are rounder, his teeth are not the same. She doesn’t know why she keeps comparing everyone to him. Everyone except herself.

 

Tetta is turning out pretty well. She’s raising him the way her mother raised her, with neglect. She gives him food, and water, and a warm bed, and money. She gives him the opportunity, he builds his own life. He buys books, and snacks, and a video game console, and she knows that he dislikes video games, and that it’s for Hanma, but she doesn’t say anything.

She hopes that the money is enough to keep him happy. She never comforts him, and he never cries. He doesn’t stand still in the doorway and stares as he hits her anymore, because he’s dead, and she goes to place new flowers on his grave and throw away the old ones every two weeks. It snows, and she ignores her freezing hands as she digs through the inches to reach for the old petals.

 

She blows out the seventeen candles on her chocolate cake. She doesn’t really like chocolate, prefers vanilla, but she feels like she should be happy that her father left a cake for her birthday in the freezer because it’s still better than nothing. It’s her only gift, except for the new book she bought herself, because her father is at work, far far away, and her boyfriend is staying with his grieving mother, who’s just lost her husband. And she thinks that she should be happy, because at least she has a birthday cake, and birthday candles, and a birthday wish, but she also knows that she will never truly be loved, no matter how many wishes she makes.

 

They never go somewhere together. A few times she’s asked if Tetta would like to go anywhere, but he said no every time, arguing that he could just go alone. Or that she could go alone, if she wanted to. Or to find someone else to do things with because he doesn’t want to. It’s not her fault, she thinks, that she wasn’t ever there for him. There never was any moment in his life in which he needed someone other than himself. She would have been there. She would have been there to stop the truck if she had known.

 

He’s a small child, barely ten, and he brings home a friend for the first time. His name is Takemichi. He has black hair and green eyes. He’s loud, he talks a lot, and Tetta looks at him as if he was heaven and hell at the same time. She cuts a mango and some melon into slices, puts it all into a bowl, and brings it into his room. Takemichi’s eyes shine bright, he grins and bows his head. Tetta just nods. She leaves and closes the door behind her. It’s the last time Takemichi ever comes over, and it’s the last time Tetta shows her one of his friends.

 

,,Father, do you think that mother will ever come back?’’, she asks, looking up from her book to study his expression. It shifts from a peaceful reading face to that of a man after five years of war. He furrows his brows, unfocuses his eyes, and wrinkles form on his forehead as he slightly scrunches up his nose. The corners of his mouth waver in a sad attempt to smile.

,,I don’t know. I don’t know, Hideko’’, he says, slowly shaking his head. She knows that he tells the truth, she knows, and she still hopes that he’s lying. She still hopes for her mother to come back. Even though she’s just a woman, just a woman in a thirteen year old girl’s life who tries to keep her happy by buying her expensive gifts and credit cards. A woman who doesn’t realise that all her daughter’s ever wanted was to be loved, to be held, to be looked at with gentle eyes and a soft smile. And she vows to never ever become such a mother herself, and instead hug her future son, to hug him, even if he doesn’t cry, and to show him how much she cares.

 

She loved her son so much that it wasn’t enough. She didn’t love her husband enough, and it still ended up being too much. They’re both dead. Now she’s stuck with just herself, and she doesn’t think that she can ever love herself again after everything she’s done and lived through. She misses the green flower fields, and the dark, mysterious forests in her dreams. She misses the happiness that the blue skies brought. She misses herself, and she misses the little girl she used to love so much. Because when she was a child, there had been no one else to love except herself.

 

Her loving man calls, she puts him on speaker after his request. Four year old Tetta’s sitting on her knees, excitedly waiting for his father to tell him that he’ll be back before the next day. ,,I’m sorry, darling, I’m so very sorry, Tetta. I can’t make it today. Expect me to be home next month instead. I miss and love you both, but I have to go now. Goodbye’’, is all he says. Tetta frowns, pouts, his lip is trembling. But he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t scream. She smiles.

,,I’m sure he’ll be back next time, Tetta. Only two more weeks’’, she tries to lift both of their spirits. It doesn’t work. Tetta gets up, tells her that he’s fine, walks into his own room, and closes the door. He doesn’t need her, or any of her love. Nor does he need his father. All he needs is himself, and the world at his feet, but he’s at the feet of the world instead, and she wonders why a four year old tries to be so grown up when all she wishes for is to be a kid again.

 

Tetta never hits her. He never hits anyone, as far as she knows. He’s a delinquent, and he fights, he beats up people, but only the ones who can hit back. She fears that he will never love anyone because love is supposed to hurt. Love is supposed to rob you of yourself. She knows that Tetta will grow up to be a loving man, that he will never hit anyone, and that his love won’t hurt. And she’s jealous of that.

Tetta never gets hit. She doesn’t hit him, because women don’t hit. Girls don’t hit. And her loving man, she doesn’t know why, but she thinks he doesn’t love their son because he never hits him, and inflicting pain is how he shows his love. Or maybe he loves him through her, he loves through the money he gives her that she then gives Tetta. But that doesn’t really count, she thinks, because he never looks Tetta in the eyes and smiles when she gives him his money because he’s never home.

 

She looks at the stairs, and thinks about how they killed one of her loving men. She remembers the other. A truck. She remembers the man in the truck, scrambles for her phone. She calls the police department, asks for the man who killed her loving boy. He was sent to the hospital, she gets told, and then she calls the number they tell her when she asks about it. Someone picks up. She asks for his name. He’s alive, they say, he barely made it. They ask if she’s family, and she says that she is. She asks if they have his number. They do, and she calls him.

,,I forgive you’’, she whispers when he picks up, ,,I forgive you for killing my son.’’ A sad laugh escapes her. She still loves him too much. She’s glad that he’s dead. She wishes that he’d been immortal. The man says something, but she doesn’t understand what. She can’t concentrate on the words. All she can concentrate on is herself, herself and her two dead, loving men. She hangs up, and goes to drink a glass of water.

 

She has everything she’s ever wanted, and somehow, she’s still broken all of the promises she’s made with herself as a kid. She promised to love her future son, to love him with warmth, with welcoming arms. She promised to marry a kind man, one who doesn’t hit or scream, one who cares. She promised not to do any of the mistakes her parents did. And still, twenty-five years later, she’s lying in her bed at night with a husband who hits, and a son who never tells her good night. And all the money in her bank account, all the marriage certificates on her desk, and all the birth papers in her drawer can’t fix it.

 

Hanma sighs. He nods. He takes another puff of his cigarette. He blows more smoke into her face. He stares into her eyes. ,,I thought I loved the color blue’’, he says, and then he turns around. She, too, thought that she loved the color blue. In reality, she loved her old self. What little that was left of her. She stared at his blue eyes so much because they resembled her own.

,,It was nice to meet you’’, she calls after him. Maybe he doesn’t hear her, maybe he just doesn’t react. He walks away without looking back. She turns to the gravestone, and thinks about the blue in her eyes, in his eyes, in the sky, and in the monster from her nightmares. The monster is a little girl, with tears on her cheeks, and blood on her hands. It’s her. It’s the tears she cries for all the people she loves. It’s the blood of all the people she’s killed by loving wrongly. It’s the blood of herself.

tag list: @offtaskotaku

[renee-writer]

Baby Girl Chapter 20

AO3

They go out that night before another case makes it impossible. She is nervous, having dated very little. Her focus was on her education and then work. Now to be going out with someone from work, it has her stomach tied up in nuts.

 

What to wear? She stands in front of her closet  scanning through her available items. Nothing feels right. Finally she chooses a little black dress. You can’t  go wrong with that, right?

 

Minimal make up, her hair casually pulled back, she is ready. The door bell rings and her heart jumps. “Come one Beauchamp. It is Jamie. Your mate. You can do this.” She tells herself as she sooths down the dress and walks over to the door. She opens it.

 

He, dressed in a button down off white shirt and jeans, stands holding flowers. Handing them to her, his eyes roam, taking in her long legs, previously unseen bare in all their glory. “Hey Claire. You look stunning. A real knockout.”

 

She blushes as she takes the bouquet. “Thank you and thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.”  She hurries to place them in water.

 

“I feel overdressed.”

 

Another blush. “ I wasn’t  sure what to wear. Little black dresses are always appropriate, I thought?” Her teeth work her bottom lip as she worries.

 

“Oh no, you are right. Your dressed wonderfully.” He offers his arm and she takes it. They walk towards his car. “My lady.” Said as he opens the door. She smiles and slips in. Closing her door and the wonderful clean and somewhat green smell of her perfume in. Walking around, he finds she has reached out and opened his too.

 

“Manners, eh?” She grins at him. He returns it.

 

*Indeed.”

 

They make a point not to talk shop as they drive to the restaurant.  Instead, they discuss the other members of the team.

 

“Exactly how smart is John?”  

 

“Oh he is a certified genius.  Has a perfect memory. Everything he sees, reads, hears, experiences, he recalls. “

 

“A blessing and a curse in…”

 

“Aye. Being the youngest doesn’t  help either.”

 

She rests her head on her hand and looks over at him. *Who is the oldest?”

 

“Murtagh .” he laughs, “He is nicknamed  ‘Godfather’ because he makes it his mission to look after everyone.”

 

“Sweet.”

 

They pull up in front of a cute little restaurant. He comes around and opens her door and offers his arm again. With a brilliant smile, she takes it. They walk in.

 

Sitting across from her, orders taken, he asks, “So tell me about yourself, your family.”

 

“I am an only child. My dad has one brother, my darling Uncle Lamb. “

 

“Lamb?” he raises his eyebrows.

 

“Quinton Lambert. He goes by Lamb. He is the man who has raised me since I was five and my parents passed in a auto accident.” She says it without a break in her voice. He knows she has reached a stage of acceptance. Still, he lays his hand over hers.

 

“I am sorry.”

 

“Thank you. I was blessed to have Uncle Lamb. He was father and mother, best friend and counselor. He took me in without a word about how it would disrupt his life. He was a archeologist when I came to him. He became a professor so I could have stability.”

 

“Sounds like a wonderful man.”

 

“He is. Your turn. Tell me about your kin.”

 

He smiles. “How many generations back?”

 

Her eyes roll. “Your parents will do.”

 

He settles back in his seat, preparing to tell  a tale. She grins in anticipation.  “My parents meet when they were in upper school. She was a Mackenzie and her parents had no love for the Fraser’s …Well, she snuck out the window and into his car…They we’re married before her parents discovered her missing.  William was born nine months later. Janet, who everyone calls Jenny, three years after him. Myself three years later.”

 

She is fascinated by the story. “Did your maternal grandparents ever forgive them?”

 

“Aye. With Willie ‘s birth. Nothing like a grandchild to thaw cold hearts.” Their meals were served during his story. They take a few minutes to eat.

 

“It is just Uncle Lamb and I and you have such a large family.”

 

“Aye, let’s see there is Willie and his wife,  Rose. They have two children, Brian, after my dad and Violet to go with Rose.  Jenny and Ian have, Wee Jamie, Maggie, and the twins, Janet and Michael.”

 

“Wow!”

 

“I am the only one not married with children. Jenny frets about it but my mam, Ellen, she tells her to let me be. That the right one will come and then I will settle down.”

 

She grins over the last of her fish and chips.  “Been a bit wild, have you?”

 

Now with the blokes he would answer that differently. But with her, honesty wins out. “No, only two serious girlfriends. One in uni and one a few years back.”

 

“Two. That isn’t bad.”

 

“Not at all. My sister considers me unsettled until I get married. “They share a laugh. “How about you?”

 

A flush and her head goes down.  She debated how to answer this question. “None.” Honesty  wins.

 

His blue eyes, almost  indigo in the candle light, grow huge.

 “None?” She shakes her head.

 

“No I was a socially awkward teen and young adult. Then my career  consumed my time.” She shakes her head again. “That is true but not completely. I wanted someone as giving and understanding as Uncle Lamb. It couldn’t be just anyone.”

 

“I think that is wonderful. To be so sure of who you want.” He draws closer across the table. Both their breaths still. She sees the gold that runs through the red in his hair. He sees the same in the brown of her eyes. They sparkle like whiskey. A second and then…

 

Both their phones ring at the same time. “Blast it!” he mutters. It is Murtagh. They have a case.

[anelusiverush]

"𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷."

Life is always evolving; it never stops or waits for you to catch up. Some days I found it hard to even catch my breath, let alone take stock of how everything had changed. These past few months had flown by in a sea of sleepless nights, I was now a mother. Aria had made her debut at my family home in Tramore on 14th January, it had been exactly how I wanted it. She came into this world surrounded by our love; I felt a sense of peace being able to feel close to my parents in that moment even if they were no longer with us. Was I scared? Yes, and I still was. It felt huge to be responsible for someone so dependant and tiny. Gabe had been his usual amazing self; I really had hit the jackpot with him. He made sure Aria, and I were well rested and helped take care of our every need, and have I mentioned how damn hot it is to watch your husband become a father? Seriously, if it wasn’t for the fact I had just given birth I’d be all over that and pregnant again. My body changed, I had mood swings and as much as I loved being in my home town, I craved the solace we had created back in Turks. I wouldn’t lie, being in Tramore I always felt the shadow of my past lurking. Of course most of that had been in my head, almost waiting the judgement of my past actions to bite me in the arse. We had decided to stay to celebrate St. Patrick’s day, I wanted to share my experiences I had growing up here with Gabe and Aria, to make new memories of those so firmly attached to my parents. It during this I discovered not all of it was in my head. I admit I had previously over looked the fresh flowers on my parents grave the time we had brought Aria to meet them, when we had last been there it had been in a state of disarray, which Gabe had helped me clean up. They say if you think you’re being followed that you probably are, but honestly it was hard to tell within the crowd down town, everyone was jubilant and I was living in the moment until it all came crashing down. I should have known, it's not like he didn’t have history for acting this way, but the moment we came face to face with Sean I was mortified. Your past and present colliding is never a pretty sight. In fact it was heart wrenching, I was livid when Sean had arrived later on at my parents’ home demanding to speak to me, his insane obsession that I was still his hung thick in the air as he trying to pull me from the house, I could hear Loki barking somewhere inside, along with Aria’s soft cries, but what happened next would haunt me forever. Gabe… Gabe is what happened next, only it wasn’t MY Gabe. I had never seen him like that, so cold, so distant. Not the man I had fallen helplessly in love with. The moment felt like forever as they crashed to the ground in a flurry of fists, but it soon become apparent Sean was now slumped on the ground and he was stopping. Panic set in and I did the one thing my dad taught me to never do, I put myself in the way. As far as I was concerned the budding black eye was worth it to prevent this escalating any further. The moment his hand connected with me; it was if his whole system froze, I prayed somewhere deep inside he still recognised me, but that happened was he walked away. I was numb and in shock as I watched his retreating form, and even more horrified when I turned to see the beating Sean had taken. I couldn’t let Gabe take the blame for my past mistakes, Sean was an unhinged alcoholic. A bully who had essentially met his match. I did my best to cover up what had happened, for me this was a simple a breathing. I took my vows I would stand by my husband through anything. My love for him was limitless, as I sat on the floor tending to the wounds on his hands desperately trying to coax him back to me. I held him, crying until he finally held me back. That night we left with secrets buried between us.

[letarasstuff]

It's New Year's Eve, Baby

(A/N): This was not really a request, but it's based on a concept an anon sent me and I needed to write the pure fluff

Summary: Spencer takes his baby girl to the first meeting between her and his team, a New Year's Eve Party at Rossi's

Warnings: Brief mentions of food and eating, the slightest hint of angst (Spencer saying he gets overwhelmed as a single father), pls tell me if there is more to add to the list

Wordcount: 1.5k

✨Masterlist✨

________________________

Spencer is so excited for tonight, he is positive that he must be physically vibrating. It’s New Year’s Eve and Penelope organized a party at Rossi’s mansion for the BAU team and their families. It is his first time taking a family member to a get-together. In fact, it’s also the first time since a few months that he is participating in an evening together with his chosen family. The reason for that is the aforementioned family member.

Spencer is taking a year off from his work at the BAU within his paternal leave to spend the time with his newborn daughter he wants and needs. The days since her birth, and those before that actually, were really difficult for him. But the father feels like he finally is adjusted to a routine with his child and in his role as a single father.

In his excitement Spencer went shopping with his little girl in her stroller for a matching celebration outfit. Or as matching as possible, since the father is not really keen on wearing a onesie himself. But he found something that satisfies his and (Y/N)’s taste to the best.

Here the both of them are now, standing in front of Rossi’s door, waiting for someone to open the door. That someone happens to be the “culprit” of it all - The one and only Penelope Garcia.

“A very warm welcome to- oh. OH. OMG this is THE baby Reid. I- This is what I’m most excited for. Oh, sorry. Yes, come in. I really wanna hug you, boy wonder, because I haven’t seen you in a while, but you know, baby!” With her hands she gestured towards (Y/N), who sits snugly in a baby carrier in front of Spencer’s chest.

Spencer smiles and offers his arm. “I’m always in for a side hug, and maybe your goddaughter also wants a taste of the Garcia Magic.” Penelope’s face lights up again, engulfing the genius and the baby in a firm, but still gentle, hug. “Now you both come in, we can’t have the wonder baby get sick. Also, I don’t think I can keep you any longer away from the rest. The others are already here, you two are the last.”

Spencer steps inside with the diaper bag in his hand. “Oh, wonder baby? How long did you work on that? Also, in my defense: We are the last, because a little someone needed a diaper change. We started with solid foods and you know, her whole digestive system has to get used to the diff-” Penelope stops abruptly and takes the flower patterned bag out of the genius’ hand.

“I love you and the baby already, but please. I can’t know everything about her poopy behavior when you want me to be an adequate godmother. So either please stop or you need to name someone else.” Spencer quickly shuts his mouth, acting more busy with cooing at his child than continuing the subject.

Upon entering the brightly decorated living room, little (Y/N) tries to look around. “Do you want to see what is happening? Yes?” Of course she doesn’t answer her father, still Spencer talks so much to her to enrich her speaking and comprehension skills as much as possible.

With a few already over and over practiced moves he gets the infant out of the carrier and puts her on his hip. She makes happy noises, a big smile gracing her face.

“Hear ye, hear ye, My name is Penelope Garcia and hereth I announce the arrival of the genius Dr. Spencer Reid and the accompanying child (Y/N) Reid,” Penelope makes a small bow and lets the two enter the room. The erupting cheering from the team members startled (Y/N). She grabs a handful of his hair and hides her face in the side of his neck.

Spencer gives them all an awkward wave. “Hey guys, I hope we don’t crash the party.” A small tug diverts his attention away from hso friends. “Uncle Spenwa, is thwis thwe babwy?” One of Matt’s children asks.

He crouches down while shifting his child to make her lie in his arms. Immediately Spencer is crowded by all the other children. “Yes, this is (Y/N). She is still fragile, so you need to be very careful with her.” The little ones look at her in awe.

Michael looks up at his uncle while pointing at the baby. “Can we play with her? Mommy packed my new truck. I can share with (Y/N).” Spencer’s heart explodes, he is sure of that. Just seeing how the other children react and embrace his infant as another part of the family.

JJ quickly intervenes, explaining to them why she is not able to participate in any game they come up with. Meanwhile the other adults start greeting Spencer and (Y/N), cooing at the little person in his arms. But she starts fussing, so the father quickly changes his grip on her, starting to bounce the girl. “Uh, I think it’s her diaper, I- uhm I need to- where?” He starts to turn red, not really sure how to phrase his question.

“If you want me to, I can take her down the hall for a change. If you want a minute for yourself, you know?” Derek offers, but Spencer unconsciously holds his daughter even closer to him, despite the smell that slowly emits from her. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the profilers. “I, I just want to do that myself. Thank you very much for the offer, though.” Nodding in understandment, Rossi gets up and points Spencer somewhere, where he can change her in peace.

Back in the living room, spread among the couches, the others share a look of swooning, not being able to overlook the apparent adoration the genius has for his baby.

Just a couple minutes later, Spencer is seated between them, talking and laughing with his family, relishing the moment. “I never thought you would ever be seen with a child, Reid. Your thing with germs and icky stuff, it really clashes with children,” Emily says while nursing another glass of wine. Tara, also having one in her hands, nods to support her point. The both of them still don’t share the number of glasses they already have. Assuming by that, it must not be the first of the evening.

While stroking (Y/N)’s cheek lovingly, he answers her without looking away from his daughter. “Yeah, it’s still a problem, the germ thing. But having a child is the best shock therapy. A year ago, I wouldn’t have known how to react when someone pukes and pees on you in the span of an hour. Now I know to change her and myself. But nobody prepared me for the mountains of laundry I have to do.” In the lightness of his voice is a small call for help.

“Oh, I’m familiar with those, Spencer. You are always welcome to come over for a playdate and bring any kind of laundry over. In a household of six children your two’s will not really make any difference,” Kirsty offers him with a soft smile. She knows exactly what kind of problems Spencer is facing, especially when she felt like a single mom before Matt transferred to the BAU. Appreciative, he nods to her, keeping this in his mind for the next time the look at his hamper makes him want to break down.

They make some more light-hearted small talk, until Penelope suddenly gets up and makes grabby hands towards little Reid. Confused, Spencer looks at her. “I need some baby’s cuddles. Gimme the little one. I promise I’ll be as gentle as a dog with a raw egg.” A little bit unsure, Spencer hands his daughter over, not without explaining to her how to hold the child. Nobody comments on the fact that this is redundant, since it’s not Penelope’s first time holding a small human being.

“Oh, you are such a sweet little creature. I don’t know how your father is able to withstand the urge to just take a small chomp, you are just too cute.” Softly, Garcia talks to her, rocking the little girl in the meantime. Derek takes at least a thousand pictures of the scene, knowing that Penelope will plaster her whole office in them.

Rossi enters the living room area, announcing that the dishes will be served shortly. Eagerly everybody goes into the dining room, hungry for a taste of Rossi’s immaculate Italian cooking skills.

While they eat and make light conversations, music is playing on a low volume in the background. It’s relatively calm, considering that there are more than half a dozen children around the table. Maybe it’s the fact that they are exhausted by running around and playing together. Maybe it’s just the atmosphere. Either way, no one is complaining about that, basking in the moment.

Especially Spencer, being more than content with his current situation. His daughter, the light of his day, is happily munching on some dry noodles. They are surrounded by their friends and family. He feels so at peace, a state he never thought was in the cards for him.

And yet here they are, at New Year’s Eve in their own little bubble. For one evening, the problems of the world seem non existent for all of them.

If you have come this far, please consider leaving a comment or a reblog. It’s just like watering your flowers, it helps us grow as writers :)

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @venomsvl @jswessie187 @kneelforloki @ssa-uglywhore27

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner @thefandomchoosesthewizard

General Spencer Reid:

@twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @sweetandsunny

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[darlingshane]

Sam Rossi x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ // Content/Warnings: Explicit, Smut, Oral Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, Established Relationship, Angst & Feels, Food, Eating.

WC: 2,279 // Prompt: Flowers.

Summary: You needed some space to figure things out after Sam's reaction to your unplanned pregnancy and he gave it to you. A few days later, he shows up on the day of your anniversary with flowers and waffles.

Red Roses, Wild Horses

“I wasn't sure if we were still up for this weekend, so I took a gamble.” Sam shows up at the house, vacillating, on Friday morning with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a food container in the other, showcasing them bashfully as he speaks, “brought these and some waffles from the diner.”

You haven't seen him since last week, when things took a turn the day you found out that you were pregnant.

Neither of you reacted well to the unexpected news that led to a hasty discussion that you weren't ready to have.

Without having time to process, you both said harmful things in the heat of the moment that you truly didn’t mean, but Sam took the cake when he dared to imply that it was your fault only.

It didn't take him long to apologize, however. He did it several times over the phone and in person when he came over to collect some of his clothes after you asked him for some space. Even though he was in the middle of moving in for good with you, and most of his stuff was here already; he didn't object to staying at the motel like he used to and let you some time on your own as you requested.

“Listen, what I said… it wasn't right or fair to you… I'm sorry I put that on you.” His voice wavered between pauses and trail offs in a message he left when your phone went straight to voicemail. “I made it about me when it wasn't… guess it scared the shit out of me when you told me, but that wasn't a reason to be an asshole.… you deserve better, sweetheart. I need you to know that no matter what, I'll always have your back… I love you.”

You've spent that week sulking, seven miserable days trying to decide how to move forward with your current situation because it really wasn't in your plans to have a baby.

Truthfully, you never put that much thought into it. You didn't have anything against having kids, but it wasn't something you ever felt like you needed either in order to have a sense of fulfillment in your life.

When you started dating Sam, you figured that it was definitely out of your cards since, right before things got serious, he told you straight forward that he didn't want to, and you were okay with that.

But accidents happen, even when you've been a hundred percent on top of taking your pill daily. Looking back, you skipped a few days almost three months ago when you went on a trip for work and you lost your birth control case at some point. That's the only way you could explain it. The dates add up with that theory.

It was the hardest decision you've ever made and while it still terrifies you, by the time Sam comes back home, your mind is already made on keeping the baby.

Being in a constant state of uncertainty didn't give you room to think about anything else and made you completely forget that today is actually your first anniversary, hence the roses and the waffles.

Without saying a word, you collect the gifts he brought from his hands. Heading to the kitchen, you stick the roses in an empty vase on the dining table, and then transfer two out of those four waffles from the container to a plate over the breakfast bar.

Sam treads carefully, occupying a seat on one of the bar stools, glancing at you as you remain standing up on the other side of the bar, spraying a mountain of whipped cream on your waffles.

It feels like there's a clock ticking backwards, counting down the minutes left until the matter of importance comes up again. You honestly can’t bring yourself to. You were severely burned last time, no matter how many times he's apologized, it's still a delicate topic. So, you just stay silent, avoiding the baby elephant in the room, in lieu you stuff your mouth with forkfuls of your favorite food.

You can see that he's trying to make amends by appealing to your stomach first. It's kind of a dirty move, but you respect that.

With the plate halfway between both, you hand him another set of fork and knife, so he can eat some too, but he declines your offer.

“Those are for you, sweetheart. Have at it.” He doesn't have to tell you twice.

You simply nod and keep emptying the plate, one bite at a time; letting the clinking of the cutlery cut the tense silence a few times.

“Do you still wanna go to Anchorage?” Asks Sam after clearing his throat.

Unable to look at him for more than two seconds at once, you just shrug, thinking about all those plans you made weeks ago before anything happened.

“I don't know… I mean, we're past due for canceling the hotel reservation. If we're going to be charged either way, we might as well.”

“Sweetheart, I don't care about the money. I'm asking you if you wanna go. We don't have to.”

You really wanted to go and have been looking forward ever since to that mini vacation you planned with him in this beautiful hotel you found by the lakefront. But right now, you're not really sure if it's the best thing to do. You want to, but you're still a little apprehensive about being alone with him for a whole weekend.

“Do you wanna go?” you question back.

“I think it'll be good, yeah. Just hit the road and get away for a couple of days, you know? But if you don't wanna… we can do something else.”

Slightly bending over the bar, you place the fork in the plate, bracing your forearms on the countertop to collect your thoughts.

“Hey,” he utters before you come to a conclusion, and you lift your eyes up to him, “I miss you, there's no wrong choice here, I just wanna be with you, doesn't matter where, sweetheart.”

“I miss you too,” you confess timidly, swallowing a knot forming in your throat, “I guess… yeah, we could do that.”

“Yeah?” his lips curve up nervously, “can I ask you something else?”

You nod, picking up the fork again, bringing a bite to your mouth.

“I know you don't wanna talk about it right now, but I just need to know that you're good. You said you were going to the doctor the other day– did you… is everything…”

“Everything's good, Sam.”

“Good, that's good,” he reiterates, lacking better words.

“Thanks for these,” when you finish your waffles, you smell the roses he brought that remind you of the gift you bought for him, “come, I have something for you too.”

Sam follows you into the bedroom. In there he watches you produce a wooden box, slightly larger than your palm, from one of the drawers of your dresser.

“Here,” you extend it out in his direction.

His eyes dart between you and the box before opening the lid. Inside, he finds a rolled black, leather belt on one side, and two custom buckles in the other compartment. One is oval-shaped in aged silver with a rose etched in the middle, surrounded by vines and leaves. The second one is a rectangle, aged in gold, with a horse's silhouette molded on the metal.

He scans them thoroughly, flashing a shy smile, letting the pad of his thumb feel the texture of both.

“So, do you like them?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I love them. Thank you.” He exhales, a little shaken and touched by your gesture, “to hell with paper, right?”

“Right,” you agree, letting your lips relax and curve up for the first time in days.

He looks at them one more time before closing the box and placing it on top of the dresser.

“I had something else for you, but I think I left it in the truck,” he pats his jean's pockets.

“It's okay. Later.”

“No, it's not,” he cautiously lifts his hands to frame your face, swallowing the burden building in his throat, “I really wanna make it up to you.”

“Said it's okay, Sam,” you lean on his most missed touch, “you've already won me over with the waffles.”

“Yeah?” his forehead leans on yours.

You close your eyes and stay there for a long moment, having his fingers softly stroking your cheeks, as you wrap your palms around his wrists.

“Sam?”

“Hm?”

“I don't wanna do this alone,” it's barely a tremulous whisper between his mouth and yours.

“Sh, you're not gonna. I'm here, baby. I'm here… I'm not gonna leave you again. I promise… I'm so sorry I hurt you.”

“I know,” you sigh out your fears, noticing the heaviness occupying your heart losing its weight, as his lips press a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you so much… can hardly bear being without you.”

“I can't either, Sam.”

With emotions climbing up high, your eyes well up and a few tears slip out at the corners.

His thumbs partially wipe some of those away, as his head dips, tilting to the side. He’s hesitant at first and then his beard strokes your cheeks when he kisses, ever so tenderly, the dampness of your skin on both sides of your face before having his lips colliding against yours.

You can only keep your hold around his arms, as his mouth parts wider, sending his tongue in to do his bidding; stealing your air and lending his own in return.

Your mouth warms up to him with ease as the kiss deepens and hurries without losing its sweetness. You sight into it as his hands glide down to hold your hips, making you lose that grip you had on him. He coaxes you to walk backwards, and you let him guide you blindly until the back of your legs bump against the bed.

Suddenly, you're resting on your back, with Sam gingerly crawling over you for a second before propping himself on his good side. His top hand frames your jaw, tilting it backwards, so he can mouth at your neck and pepper your skin with a handful of lovely I miss yous and I love yous.

His caresses stir a soft laugh out of your lips at the tickle of his beard under your ear. Then, his head pulls back, bringing his knuckles to caress your cheek, glancing at you, enraptured by the smile taking over your face. His fingers reach the corner of your mouth and trace the shape of your bottom lip with his pointer and middle before dipping to steal another kiss.

One of his hands moves to roam freely all over your body at the same time, steering you with practiced ease to hum around his tongue when his fingers slide between your legs.

Severely deprived of his touch for days, your body reacts accordingly, heating up like a furnace, promptly bothered by the layers of fabric wrapped all around.

Letting his hand slip under the elastic of your underwear, he pulls back again and locks eyes with you, watching you squirm as his fingertips help themselves to your clit. He caresses you back and forth, collecting those first drops out of you, before drawing circles around that swollen nub that starts to ache at his teasing.

You groan in frustration when all of a sudden he comes to a halt.

“Sh, sh, said I was gonna make it up to you, didn’t I?” his lips curve up playfully, shedding his shirt before helping you out of your bottom layers.

You slip off your cardigan as he kneels by the foot of the bed. His hands take a hold around your thighs, and drag you closer to the edge, spreading you open as his lips slide along the surface of your inner thigh slowly.

Shivering in anticipation, you brace yourself to your elbows and place your feet on his shoulders, as you glance at each other just for the breadth of a second before having his lips diving in to taste you. He presses a line of soft kisses all over your cunt first, then his tongue juts out, and you relax to your former position, burying a hand in his hair, as he digs deeper between your lips.

You run your nails on his scalp without pressing, letting the combination of his plump lips and tongue please every fiber of your body. He collects your arousal at the swirling of his tongue that traces every inch of your tender folds from your entrance to that little bud that’s throbbing for attention.

Struggling to stay grounded in one position, your hips slant against his mouth.

You take a hold of one of his hands, that was curled around the top of your thigh, and bring it up to your stomach, lacing fingers with him tightly, as his lips wrap around your clit. Driving you out of your mind, he sucks every drop that comes out of you, knocking all the lights in the process as your eyes shut.

It doesn't take him a great deal of effort to push you right to the edge. You’ve been desperate for it, and you didn’t even realize how much until the pressure that’s been building up in your abdomen has your legs straining for no more than a couple of seconds before the orgasm takes you by surprise; shaking your body like an earthquake.

You push his head away, crying at his name, as a little ripple of flutters ease up all your aches.

[struggling-with-time]

Chosen Lineage [Wilbur Soot x reader, Fundy x reader]

Pairing: c!Wilbur Soot x Gender Neutral!reader, c!Fundy x Gender Neutral!reader (Son - Parent)

Summary: You raise Fundy as Wilbur keeps coming in and out of your life.

Warnings: Angst, betrayal, fluff, found family (chosen family)

Words: 3.2K

Masterlist: Wilbur’s Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: This is an AU I have been working on, and then the perfect ask came by. (Also requests are still open! Click here!)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You've been travelling and finally reached the new and upcoming server the Greater SMP. You had received a letter to join from Dream himself. Payback for a favour in the past.

And you join.

Hoping to find new people to meet, and potentially finding the person with whom you share a soulmark.

Quickly befriending the residents, it doesn't take long for you to start having late night talks with a certain Wilbur Soot, a man who dreams about bigger things. Hoping to get his name in the history books even as a footnote.

And the two of you get along great, as friends. And later down the road best friends. The two of you never have thought about romantic feelings toward each other, although you can't deny the two of you had checked once drunk if you belonged together. But alas, you didn't. And both of you never entertained the thought again.

At least that’s what you agree upon with each other.

That's when he meets Sally. And she's just perfect for him. His other half. His soulmate. And you're happy for them, gladly helping with setting up a date or two to make them extra special. And they are a good couple.

Then she gets pregnant.

And they're still okay together. They still like each other, and both still have moments where their love for each other shine through.

Until Fundy gets born.

Everything changes when Fundy gets born. Suddenly you're spending more time babysitting the little fox child than either of his parents. Sally seems to often just be gone.

A passing mention of going up the river, and one day she does. And she doesn't return. She never returns.

All while Wilbur has been off doing work for his new nation. Something Sally had always been against. A topic of many arguments for the two. Which more often than not ended with the man on your couch and for you to look after the poor child.

As L’Manberg starts talking about independence you're there backing them. Holding Fundy's hand. A child of a soulmate pair, with neither looking after him. A rare tale to be heard.

You're there as Wilbur cries about Sally. When his country goes to war. You're there holding Fundy back as he tries to become a child soldier himself.

You're there as Wilbur tries to form a bond with his son.

You're there as Wilbur asks Fundy to come and stay with him in his new house.

And you're there when Fundy refuses to leave your side.

You're there as Wilbur walks out determinant to win the war so he can form a bond with his son.

You’re resting Fundy on your arm as the man in a mask comes knocking.

You’re holding Fundy tight as the man who bears the name of Dream asks you to fight for you.

You’re shielding Fundy as you tell Dream, unless he wishes to owe another favour, he has paid you back for the favour he owed you.

You are comforting Fundy when the masked man leaves shutting the door behind him.

You are wiping tears from his face as you promise him you will never betray his father.

You are there the night Fundy packs his bags years later, the night he vows to fight for his father’s creation. The first night he sees you cry.

You tell him to come back safely and help him pack the rest.

You watch him walk out of the house you have built to keep him safe.

You're there as he celebrates the win, and as Fundy now a young man, hugs you, and says his thanks to you for keeping him out of most of the battles.

You're there as Wilbur finally gets close to his son.

You’re there as you allow the man who has hurt his son back into your life once more.

Letting him be stressed and relax around you. Still loyal to the man you once befriended. Still loyal to the man you admire.

You’re there to celebrate as the election gets announced, helping Fundy with his campaign and giving Wilbur words of encouragement.

The man had found a room in your house once more.

But time moves on and time of peace is nothing the server is fond of.

You're there the day a man with the name of Schlatt joins the election.

A man the universe tells you that you're destined to be with.

You're there as Wilbur leaves Fundy and you behind.

You're not there as the man spirals. Stuck between walls you once fought for.

However, you are there as Fundy tears them down and comes crying to you.

You are there helping Niki when she's unable to keep up with the taxes.

You help the Manberg citizens as much as you can from the inside.

Until you're there as the man you would trust with your life calls his own son a traitor. And you're there as Fundy tells him he was never his own but yours.

You aren't there the day they kill the president. Having vowed to not see the man after finding out what the universe thought of the two of you.

After what he had done to Fundy.

You're there the day Wilbur presses the button. The day Fundy takes back his last name promising to be greater than the man who didn't raise him.

You aren’t there the first time ghostbur shows up. However, you are there the day Fundy comes crying to you telling you of the ghost.

You hold him tight that night, reassuring him he’s safe with you, and that a ghost won’t change you caring about Fundy.

The days go past until one day Fundy shows up with the ghost himself.

A mere shell of the man you once admired. A mere shell of the man you once knew. A mere shell of a man you no longer knew in his last months.

He comes in the name of peace he tells you, he comes with blue in his hands and hope in his eyes.

He tells of good memories and of days before the birth of Fundy.

He tells of cold mornings and warm evenings.

He tells of meeting you and the sadness your soulmark made him feel.

He tells of nights spent thinking of your eyes.

Your voice.

Your touch.

He comes telling of tales you never have heard.

He comes, you watch him leave.

You let him leave with the words spoken of a once broken person.

A person who has grown.

You have grown.

You let him leave with the tales of a person who once admired a friend greatly, but could no longer follow their friend down the path they had made.

You let the ghost leave with the words, that while you had once loved a man. You no longer did.

You are there that night, in front of the fireplace as Fundy struggles to understand that you had once loved his father.

You tell him tales of your youth you shared with Wilbur.

Of unforgetful nights, and unforgiving mornings.

Of the way you used to map the stars, of the way you used to live for his words as he lived for yours.

Tales of good friends being there for each other, tales of good friends supporting each other.

You tell Fundy of the first time Wilbur presents to you, Sally.

You tell Fundy of that day. The day you came to terms with the universe.

That while you might have mapped out the stars, the universe maps your life long before you make a decision.

You tell Fundy of his first birthday, the only one where both of his parents were present.

You tell him tales of his mother. Yet, you can’t find it in yourself to show him the pictures that go along with the tales you tell.

The fireplace goes out, and you break apart. He spends a night in his childhood room, while you watch the stars, one more time.

Still in the habit of mapping them, although now only mentally as they dance across the sky for you to watch.

Like all things, time moves on.

When the day of Wilburs birthday rolls around and you make the first trip to his gravestone. The sun setting on the horizon. That night you watch the stars by the gravestone, surrounded by wide open fields and two single flowers.

The next day your door opens for the ghost to come to visit.

You can’t help but let the ghost into your life, so lost, so much like the man you once knew. Yet the ghost will never be able to fill the gaping hole of betrayal the once living man left behind.

So you let him in, let him stay. First, for a single night, the rain had caught him stranded in your house.

Then he slowly seems to come back again and again, and it pains you to see him, wander around. Pains to see him be so pain-free yet clearly carrying all of it.

Fundy, your son, the child you raised on your own, as your own.

Fundy is the one to tell the ghost to seek residence in another place. Fundy is the one who refuses to see you tear yourself down in hopes of seeing the brief moments where you forget the man in front of you isn’t dead.

But you move on as the house becomes empty once again, you have to.

The universe tells you to.

So you do.

The news of the ghosts death reaches you before the news of what came with reach you.

Fundy comes seeking you out as soon as he hears, all the way from his new place of residence. Las Nevadas.

You are proud of Fundy, he did good for himself, at least he tell you so.

He returns to your home, his home. Seeking comfort from the one who raised him, and you give him that.

You hold Fundy recounting your promises of keeping him safe. You refuse to let the man hurt his son once more.

You tell Fundy the next day that you need a new place to stay, he offers residence in Las Nevadas.

Yet you tell him, you’ve had enough of nations and wars.

He helps you, Fundy helps you make your new home.

While Fundy notices, he doesn’t say so.

Your new residence is nearly identical to your old one, yet more secluded and missing a room.

The room Wilbur used to stay in.

For while you were loyal to the once-living, then dead man. You aren’t loyal to the person who hurt his son. You aren’t loyal to the one wandering the lands now, and you wish not to invite him into your home.

Fundy calls in help from his new friends and your house is standing in mere weeks, you thank him by telling him even now that he no longer needs you, your home will always have space for him.

You hug him closely that night before he leaves.

You tell him you’re proud.

You tell him he has become so much more than his father.

You tell him he is great, and he deserves all the happiness you could ever wish upon. 1

Fundy tightens his arm around you as he silently cries into your shoulder.

But as always the universe has plans and waits for no one.

Fundy has to go back to his work, and you have stars to be mapped.

Finally using pen and paper again. For while it was a shared interest the living dead holds no hand over you.

You are a free bird and refuse to be caged by the people who only wish to bring hurt with them.

And then you count the days, for you know he will show up.

He has yet to not do so.

You spare him no surprise as the man with the white streak stands on your porch. Asking to sit down as your pen glides over the paper.

You knew he would come, yet had not expected him to do so when the stars are bright. And the night is long.

He does not talk, and you don’t invite him as the dawn breaks through.

You are the first to get up, and you retract into your cabin, as he walks away.

Then he comes back.

Night after night.

No words were spoken.

For days, weeks. This goes on.

Even when you travel to sell your maps to the sailors who comes by the Snowchester harbour, he sits silently on the porch waiting for your return that night.

You walk right past him, but stop when you hear him.

“I am sorry.”

It is all he says before he is up and gone into the night.

You find yourself hesitating, wishing to turn around and call out for him, but you don’t.

You retreat into your cabin and is reminded why you do this by the wall of memories in your house.

Pictures of your and Fundy and people you’ve met through the years adorning the wall.

He hurt Fundy, and he hurt you.

The next night you await an invitation into your home.

He takes it.

You tell him not to give you excuses, and he doesn’t.

He tells of the months in the cave, and the regret of his actions.

You tell him of the year you’ve raised Fundy, the years he wasn’t there. The months of agony, and the years of acceptance.

He tells of the love for you.

And you tell of the love you once held for the man.

He asks for forgiveness.

You offer consideration.

You tell him of the ghost that wandered the halls of your previous home. You tell of the actual ghost that stayed in the bed he used to sleep in.

You tell him that you are the last person he should ask forgiveness from again. You tell him of his son once again.

You tell him to not see you again until his son will look his own father in the eyes with something other than hatred, resentment, pity.

You tell him to never come back begging for love when he refused to love the people around him when they did.

You tell him that while you were once loyal, you are only loyal to the bright fox you raised and no other person.

You give him credit that night, you give him credit for knowing when to not push the buttons you have given him the control of.

That night you let yourself watch as he walks for the last time.

He might have once loved you, but the universe told him no.

He might have once wished to raise his son, yet you were the one to do so.

You hope him a fruitful journey, as the light on the porch burns out and you return to the warmth of your cabin ready to write a letter to Fundy.

The boy having taken to letter writing the same way his father did. You find yourself smiling at the thought each time you receive a letter from him.

While Fundy may never tell you of what happened when that letter arrived and you for the first time directly addressed him as your son to his own eyes. He cried.

While peace has finally settled and the wars are done being fought.

You're still making the twice-annual tracks out to Wilbur's Lone gravestone. For while the man is still walking amongst you now, you are still mourning the person he used to be.

The single slate under a tree stands on the far outskirts of what used to be L’Manberg.

"In memory of Wilbur Soot. Founder. President. Friend. Father. Son."

As usual, the titles coming before the personal bonds.

Although this year on his birthday another person is present. Not one wearing wings and a bucket hat.

Instead a redheaded woman you haven't seen in years.

One you never thought you would ever see again.

"As loyal to the man as ever." She smiles at you. Her eyes landing on the single yellow rose in your hand.

"As loyal as the wind to a cold summer day." You tell her. A phrase you haven't spoken since she asked you why you kept watching out for Fundy. “As loyal to the person he was before his symphony.” You add to it.

"I hope the years have been kind to you." She says as she watches you lay down the yellow rose beside the single gladioli.

Phil came at dawn.

You came at dusk.

"The years have been kind to those who got lucky." you tell her, "I've tried to make them as kind to Fundy as possible."

She hums.

"Still looking after him I take it?"

The question hangs in the air, and you know what she's asking.

Did you replace both of them?

You pull out your wallet and hand over one of the two pictures you carry with you.

Silent tears start to slip down her chins as she looks it over.

It's the one picture that survived from Fundy's first birthday. The one with Sally holding him and Wilbur holding the two of them.

The only birthday Sally ever saw.

"I know you might think I have replaced you. But I never could. I may have raised him as my own and let him chose me as his family, but I can never replace his parents. Not that I ever wanted."

Sally looks up at you, clearly unwilling to hand back the picture. But you still take it, and a piece of her it seems.

"Wilbur was a friend I treasured greatly, and I was happy for your love. But both of you burned brightly and burned your son in the way to seek your happiness."

You show her the other picture in your wallet. Not willing to let her touch it.

It's from a year ago when you finished the construction of your new house. It's of you and Fundy in front of the first thing you put up in the house. The great picture wall.

"But while you are his mother. I'm too selfish to let you into his life. However, I cannot stop you from travelling to Las Nevadas and see him from afar. But don't expect him to recognise you. Or treat you as kindly as I."

Sally nods tearing her eyes away from the photo. You put it away.

"I hope the years have been kind to you Sally and I hope your best years were the ones you spent with Wilbur, for his years were with you."

You tun away as the sun has dipped below the horizon wishing to return to your home before the mobs come creeping.

A letter on your table written by Fundy.

The letter tells of a redheaded woman who came by Las Nevadas in search of Fundy to find you.

The letter tells of his desire to know who the woman was, in her relation to you. Not wanting to see you be hurt by more people. Especially not the ones he brings into your house. Not again.

All you reply is an old friend whom you never expect to see again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[lunaekalenda]

sooo... can i request headcanons for papa!eren and papa!armin (separately), please?? like,, their reaction when their s/o told em she was pregnant, how were they through the pregnancy, reaction when they heard the baby's heartbeat, when they discovered that the baby was a girl, her birth, first months of the baby, first steps, first word, until she's a toddler😅 sorry if it's too much, i tried to be as specific as possible, u can also post each character in different posts if you want or feel better this way and post them at your own time♡ thanks in advance

omg here you go <3  i hope you like it !! <3 i divided them on two posts, armin here !

··························································································································

papa!eren x fembodied!reader

mentions of pregnancy and all it has, husband mentions

··························································································································

eren:

- his expression was priceless when he discovered about the pregnancy.

- he wasn't expecting it, and he got really excited with the notice. he even kneeled near your belly, taking the shirt up.

- "are you sure here is a baby?" he says, his eyes looking at the plain belly.

- "of course, eren." you laugh. “it’s too soon to notice it.”

- eren hugged you, his cheek against your belly, your hands on his hair. he promised to take -even more- care of you and your baby.

- the first weeks were kinda troubled.

- you felt nauseas with literally anything and eren tried to avoid strong smells in home, such as cigarettes or cooked meat.

- you didn’t eat that much, and all that entered your stomach was automatically delivered outside again.

- he insisted in making all the household tasks, he doesn’t want you to move a finger.

- he cooks, he cleans, he prepares your bath and he helps you to get dressed and undressed.

- as time passes, your belly becomes bigger. it is kinda complicated for you to do common things, such as lace your sneakers, wake up from bed in the morning or sit on the car.

- eren accompanies you to every single medical revision.

- the first time you two heard his heartbeat, eren couldn’t take the tears away, knowing that his little treasure inside you sounds alive and safe. 

- he took your hand between his and cried for some minutes, his hands on his forehead, covering his wet face.

- also, he discovered your little baby’s gender on a party you planned for him. he wanted to know it, but you wanted to surprise him.

- he was confused, all those people on his living room that early on a saturday, but he quickly new after remembering how much time you passed watching gender reveal parties on tik tok.

- mikasa exploded the balloon that had pink glitter inside, meaning it was a girl!

- he was so happy, that night he only had words for his little baby and kisses for her mom.

- “you and mommy are my girls. once you arrive here, i won’t let go your hand, i’ll be by your side.” he said, slowly falling asleep with his hand hugging your belly.

- the day of her birth he was so nervous, waiting on the waiting room, the minutes passing slower than ever. 

- the moment he could visit you, he entered as fast as possible on your room. 

- there you were, your arms holding a little girl, her breathing calm and serene, your eyes full of tears when your husband’s hand reached the little one. 

- the love his eyes projected towards her, how her little fingers wrapped around his father’s index made him fell in love with his family again.

- he checks four times his daughter’s bag before leaving, making sure there’s all the necessary things for her.

- also makes sure you’re comfortable after the birth, buys you a special cushion for your stitches.

- he talks to his baby even when she doesn’t understand him, always showing her everything she can see from his dad’s tall body.

- “look, that’s a baby bird, how little, hm? then they fly, really high and they meet another birds...”

- see your husband explaining to your daughter how birds migrate is kinda funny knowing she’s only a month old.

- he was kinda upset when her first word was “bird” and not “dad” or “mom”

- “and are your surprised, eren?” you laugh. he talks to her about the birds that go to your garden every day.

- but, the day he was sleeping her, and she whispered “dad”, oh, goddess.

- “love, love, love, she said it! she called me dad!”

- he was so genuinely happy you couldn’t do another thing that hug your family.

- the baby’s first steps were from his father to you. she walked all the way alone, eren watching in case she fell, and gripped successfully to your legs.

- eren was so proud of her he had to told everybody how his little girl started to walk! took hundred of videos and sent them home, his mother happy because of his son’s happiness.

- your daughter quickly learned she was dad’s little girl, and he spoils her a lot.

- “eren, why did you bought this ketchup bottle? we had here...”

- “she wanted it because it had an astronaut drawn outside. if you could see how she moved her little hands to get it, baby...”

- “... eren, love, it’s a bottle of ketchup.”

- she loves to sleep on his dad’s chest, feeling his heartbeat and his arms wrapping her gently.

- you take a hundred pics of them sleeping like that, that’s your favorite wallpaper.

- eren also takes a lot of pics of you two. how you show her a flower, how you dress her for a familiar celebration, how you read to her.

- he didn’t knew that mom part of you, but he’s also in love with it.

- he only can see that you and your daughter, knowing that in front of his eyes, standing together and calling him, are the most important people he has.