#happy pathetic man autumn

[fanfan-p1]

middle of work week, hungover, napping on lover, life good

[slttygeto]

CURSING MY NAME, WISHING I STAYED.

જ⁀➴ synopsis: you never got the chance to say goodbye to each other in 2007, you never thought you needed to. ten years later, you are still unable to find the right words as you stand in front of his lifeless body. if suguru geto was truly dead, who was the man standing in front you almost a year later?

જ⁀➴ content warning: angst, hurt/no comfort, manga spoilers, slapping and choking.

જ⁀➴ word count: 1,4k

જ⁀➴ note: this was requested about a year ago and I only got the chance to work on it today. enjoy :)!

You never associate Suguru with spring, despite it being such a lovely season, you remember it being the one season where he decided he needed to pull away. It was subtle, but you could feel it. He ate less, spoke less, he didn’t want to hang out as usual. You didn’t go on missions anymore, but you tried to be present. Even when summer came around and all hell broke loose.

You associate Suguru with autumn. Satoru doesn’t say a single word when you say it loud, when you tell him that that the orange leaves falling down and painting the road remind you of your past lover, how your love for him felt that way when he left—fragile, easily crushed. But Satoru would beg to differ. He could see it in your eyes, how they refuse to meet his when Yaga brings up the man’s name. It hurts to lose a best friend, but it hurts even more when you have a best friend and a lover in the same person.

Ten years later on Christmas Eve, Satoru has to put his best friend to rest. He doesn’t need to call you or tell you where he is, you just know. You show up as Suguru is taking his last breath and you stand there, unmoving. Your love for Suguru didn’t feel like autumn anymore. The tears running down your face were warm, and your chin was quivering as you let out a pathetic sob.

“I’m sorry.” What was Suguru apologizing for? For killing people or for betraying the people he loved the most? You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, didn’t even bother to wipe the tears blurring your vision. You just stared at him, how a smile was dancing on his lips as he saw the two people he loved the most standing in front of him.

“Perhaps in another life,” Suguru’s voice is quiet, and you seem to take notice of how pale he looks. “I am who you’ve always wanted me to be.”

You wanted him to be many things, but it seemed unfair for him. If Suguru was truly unhappy while in Jujutsu high, then maybe you were never meant to be together. If he couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world, then perhaps destiny played its cards wrong. If you were never able to keep Suguru around, then Suguru was never yours to keep in the first place.

You watch as the life slowly fades out of his body, and Satoru turns away from the corpse of his best as you kneel down in front of it and hold his lifeless body in your arms, the heart wrenching sobs that you let out force the strongest sorcerer to stand behind you and place a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s time to go.”

--

 “You’re late, (name).” You never associated Suguru with autumn after his death. In fact, no season could do your past lover justice. Yet the person standing in front of you reminded you of winter—cold, mean and lifeless.

Why was Suguru standing in front of you?

You and Satoru are unmoving as the familiar body of your best friend and lover approaches the two of you. You don’t speak, your lips are frozen as you stare in shock at the same person whom you’ve been mourning his death for the past twelve months.

Geto Suguru passed away on December 24th. You’ve been mourning his absence for almost a year—so who was this person standing in front of you?

“I don’t remember you being this quiet, my love.” The pet name sent shivers down your spine, and you watched as the hand of your past lover reached towards your face to hold it. You craved this, to be held by him again after so long, to feel the warmth of the one person who promised you a lifetime of happiness—only to break that promise so soon. You pull away harshly when the tip of his fingers touches your cheek, and Geto Suguru seems to find your hesitance extremely funny.

“Who are you?” You step back towards Gojo, and you don’t need to look his way to know that he was just as taken aback as you were. Wide blue eyes staring in shock at his best friend—his one and only. It was sad that Geto Suguru (while he was still alive) was your enemy for longer than he was a loved one or a best friend.

“Geto Suguru of course.” Liar.

“My six eyes…” Satoru starts, and your heart breaks at how panicked he sounds. “My six eyes are telling me that you are Geto Suguru.”

But he wasn’t Suguru. This wasn’t the man you fell for, nor the man you fought last year. You refused to believe that he somehow came back to life. Not when you kneeled in front of his corpse and held him in your arms.

“But my soul knows otherwise! So hurry up and tell us, who the hell are you?!”

It’s a gut wrenching feeling as you watch the man in front of you open up Geto’s head and toy with it as he wished. He lets out an ugly laugh, one that doesn’t match Suguru’s beauty.

“It’s a cursed technique that allows me to hop between bodies by switching brains. Of course, it lets me use the innate techniques within the body, I coveted his cursed manipulation and these exact circumstances.” His eyes then land on you and a sinister smile is dancing on his lips.

“You,” he starts, taking one step forward towards you. “As pathetic as you seem in this man’s memories, begged Gojo Satoru and Shoko Ieiri to not get rid of Geto Suguru’s body, am I right?”

As pathetic as you seem in this man’s memories.

You didn’t know what to react to first. His words felt like a thousand burning knives, each one stabbing you from a different side. You fight back the urge to jump on him, you know you’re at disadvantage because Satoru was bound to this prison realm.

“I did.” Your response is short and quick, and the man in front of you chuckles at how dry you sound.

“He loves you a lot, you know?” Kenjaku pauses for a second, and the time he takes before continuing makes you feel as though he was mocking you. “Always wished he could trade places with the strongest sorcerer. You two were close, it always nagged him.”

This wasn’t true. This could never be true because Satoru and Suguru were closer than ever. You don’t remember a single instance where you felt as though Suguru was jealous of his best friend. This man was trying to shatter you in hopes of trapping you the same way he trapped Gojo Satoru.

“How are you gonna let yourself get used like this, huh?” Satoru sounds enraged. “Tell me, Suguru!”  

You are just as shocked as Kenjaku when his neck twists, a sign of resistance when hearing Satoru’s loud yell. It was almost as if he heard him and wanted to wake up, to free himself of the man who was using his body to toy with the feelings of his loved ones. He then laughs, and again it sounds evil as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Ha! No way! This is a first for me,” his eyes then fall on your frozen figure and by the look on his face, he was up to no good.

His hand makes its way towards you and wraps around your neck, you get that his intention was to choke you. But when his hand refuses to squeeze around your neck, the look on his face turns into an annoyed one. Kenjaku couldn’t hurt you, Suguru didn’t let him.

Unfortunately, he still had more control than the original soul occupying the body and his hand manages to grab your neck and push you up against the wall, knocking the wind out of your chest.

“You’re getting in the way.” No matter how hard Gojo tried to shift the attention back on him, Kenjaku seemed to want to get rid of you and as fast as possible. You find yourself thrown next to Satoru, tied up in similar bounds.

“Goodnight, my love.” His hand caresses your cheek, and you’re forced to feel his cold touch against your skin. You hear a smack and your cheek stings, teary eyes forced to stare into his cold ones when he roughly grabs your jaw.

“Let us meet in the new world.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[saoirseyun]

—okay okay okay so since Autumn has hectic storms by most of the occasion... FYODOR easily catches common colds every now and then. (Despite how pathetic it was, you couldn't blame him anyway. It's sort of endearing as well so at least that's a plus?)

—Thinking how Fyodor would be rather annoyed by his poor state of health and low immunity... He was never really the type to "cling" but having to be restricted in the bedroom alone does make the man long for your appearance.

—You try, mostly, yet there's never truly enough time for you to completely spend on caring for Fyodor. And by caring, it's more on "showing your face personally to make him happy," kind of caring... Seriously, he's lucky that you love him. Could you even imagine how stupid that sounds?

—anyway.

—Whenever you do indeed have the time, however, you'll make attempts on doing stuff for him. Reason being? Only to make Fyodor feel more special during being sick. (He feels absolutely disgusting in this state, doesn't he?)

—Whether it'd be baking some miniature Russian goods or saccharine drinks — you'd often spot him blankly staring out the window to a scenery cast in reds, yellows, oranges, browns... Blanket draped over his shoulders as he held closely a nutrition drink in hand. Walking over and gently hugging him (while actively ignoring the potential of catching that same illness, who cares about that <3)

—You couldn't tell it exactly but you knew that Fyodor was smiling internally. His body leaning into your touch, how he shifts slightly over the covers to be slightly closer...

—...Either way it's just the way Dostoevsky likes it.

a/n: crying over how I had to rewrite this over seven times until I decided to make this a hc post. save me. please. (not proofread)

2/8 for my mini masterlist -—

[oriistar]

All I Want For Christmas..

König x GN Reader ᐤ Fluff

Summary: Your loving boyfriend is currently deployed. As the holiday season creeps closer to Christmas, you feel lonely knowing that König wouldn't be there, or so you thought..

Warnings: Mentions of seasonal depression.

The seasons had been creeping by slowly, bringing the changing of weather and leaves. The warm and inviting hues of Autumn were always comforting but as November passed and you were eased into December and the thrall of the winter season, it became harder to ignore a dreadful feeling in your chest. The frosty streets of the Northern American city you lived in was decorated with bright Christmas lights and decorations. You saw the decorations and happy families every day when you walked your little corgi, Bagel, but for some reason the infectious joy was lost on you. You struggled most of your life with seasonal depression and usually you found ways to preoccupy yourself turning the holiday months but none of your tactics were working this year and you knew exactly why.

Around two years ago you had signed yourself up for a pen pal program, created to boost morale in troops across the globe. This program wasn't specific to American troops though, it was meant to randomly assign you a soldier in any allied countries army including private military contractors. You figured it'd be fun in your free time, to send an occasional letter and possibly learn about a foreign country depending on what kind of soldier you were assigned to. You just so happened to be assigned to a KorTac soldier stationed in Austria. For an entire year you had sent letters back and forth, getting to know the soldier named König. After a year of continuous letters, you started to develop feelings for the man who seemed so sweet yet mysterious. You had no clue what he looked or sounded like, you only knew as much as he told you but it was hard not to feel some kind of affection for the man. A year of letters later, you had decided to meet him in person next time he had leave. 

It was awkward and he definitely wasn't what you were expecting. König was a huge man and even if you knew he was kind and quite a gentleman, he still scared you shitless when he locked on you at the airport and approached you with such meaningful strides. He was so sweet though, and even if he did scare you at first, you grew to find an immense comfort and safety in his presence. The meeting only made your feelings for him grow and unbeknownst to you, he was certainly feeling the same attraction. More letters and a few visits later, you two had confessed your feelings and began a loving a healthy relationship together. 

This was your first holiday season with König as your boyfriend but the excitement of it quickly wore off when you remembered that he was deployed halfway across the world and wouldn't be able to take the holidays off. It only served to make the seasonal depression worse with the knowledge that the love of your life wouldn't be there on Christmas Day. You had received a letter from him just last week, saying how much he wished he could be with you but you didn't have the heart to send one in return. You desperately wished he was allowed to have a phone on base so that you could call him on Christmas Day at the very least. You couldn't even send him any actual gifts, it wasn't within KorTac regulations.

It was a very frustrating scenario with no real solution. Eventually you decided to try your very hardest to pretend like it didn't bother you but often you'd catch yourself snuggling sadly, on the verge of tears thinking about your lover and how much you missed him. It made you feel kind of pathetic too. You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to start dating him, he had even warned you that he would often miss important holidays and such but that didn't make it hurt any less now that you were experiencing it.

With a soft sigh, you decided to compose your letter in response to the one König had sent you a week ago. He was probably worried about not having a response yet and you didn't want to give him any additional reasons to be an anxious mess. 

-

Dear König, 

  I'm missing you a lot. I know you're busy, I just wish you would have been able to take this Christmas off. Bagel misses you a whole bunch too, he's always sitting by the door waiting for you to come back. Sometimes I consider sitting with him…

  I hope you're keeping warm and safe. I bet the snow over there is much deeper than it is here. Do they decorate on base for the holidays? I don't think I've ever asked you that now that I think about it.. I've been trying very hard to keep myself happy but I can't help but think about you constantly. I miss the way you hold me through the night, or when you kiss my forehead, and hold my hand.. I miss listening to your stories from missions and antics with your teammates. I miss everything about you but I know you knew that already, it's usually all I talk about in these letters. 

  Here's to hoping next year I get to keep you for the holidays. I'm sure my family will love to have you over for your first Thanksgiving, I know we talked about you wanting to experience that American tradition eventually. I got you some Christmas presents too. I put them under the tree and they're all wrapped even though I know you won't be able to open them until February, at least it'll still be a little chilly out then. Maybe we can recreate a little Christmas, I'll even set the tree back up before you get here. 

I can't wait to be in your arms again. Please come home to me safely. 

Love, y/n

-

You sniffled a little as you finished the letter but you wouldn't let yourself cry again. You spritzed the paper with a spray of the usual perfume you'd wear, something König had said before that he loved. He had written in his letters how the scent of your perfume would make him relax after a long day and occasionally those letters would delve into more intimate territories. 

You folded the letter and slipped into an envelope. You quickly wrote down the required information and pressed a stamp onto the top corner of the envelope. You got up to get dressed in something warm, simple jeans and one of König’s thick jackets that he had accidentally left behind the last time he had come to visit you. Although you referred to your apartment as you and König’s home, he didn't actually live with you yet. He lived in Austria but honestly spent more time on his vacations with than at home, only staying long enough to see his family before he caught a flight to America to see you. As a result, he often left behind clothing. König was a big guy so the jacket he left behind was quite over sized on you and did an amazing job at keeping you warm.

The post office wasn't very far from the apartment complex you lived in so often you'd just take Bagel for a walk and mail the letters from the post office directly. The little corgi was already excited and was jumping around as you slipped on his harness and leash. You walked out the door, letter in hand with a sigh, hoping that König would get the letter soon..

𓆩♡𓆪

Halfway across the world, on the Austrian KorTac base, König was in just as bad shape as you were. Winter was his favorite season and he didn't suffer from seasonal depression like you but he was devastated at the fact that he wouldn't be able to see you for the holidays. He had been mopping around quite a bit and it definitely didn't go unnoticed by his teammates. König wasn't the most sociable person but at the very least he'd talk with his team during their daily PT or meal times but he'd been more closed off than usual the past few weeks. 

Truly, he was feeling very anxious about you. Worried to leave you all alone even though he knew you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. He had sent you a letter in the last week of November and it's been over two weeks with no return letter. Usually your letters were delivered quickly so he didn't understand why he hadn't heard back from you yet. He swallowed thickly as he lay in the bed of his private room. He felt awful, and all he wanted was to see you and hear your sweet voice welcoming him back to your small but cozy little apartment. To put his large hands on your hips and kiss the life out of you. He groaned, his face flushing pink behind his sniper hood. It was only midday but he didn't have much to do, being a commanding officer surprisingly left him with some time to himself for once as he didn't have anything really important to tend to. 

A loud knock on the heavy metal door to his room pulled him out of his thoughts and with a groan, he rolled his large frame out of the squeaky bed that was far too little for him. He pulled the door open to find one of his comrades, Horangi, at the door. The small Korean man held and envelope out to him with a rather disinterested look on his face. “Surprise, your beuja finally sent you a letter.” Horangi said. König’s face flushed red at that, not bothering to correct Horangi when he called you König’s ‘spouse’. “Danke..” He muttered as he took the letter and Horangi headed off to hand out a few other letters, not one to pry in König’s personal business. 

As soon as the door was shut, König resisted the urge to hop around his room like an excited child. He ripped the envelope open and nearly salivated at the smell of your sweet perfume. His excitement was snuffed out though as he read the letter and he frowned deeply. “Oh, mein engel..” he muttered sadly. Although it sent a thrill through him that you thought about him so often, he was also incredibly saddened to hear that you were so caught up about his absence. König bit his lip and cast a glance at the calendar hanging up by his door. It was only December 15th and he tried to think of something he could do to ease your troubled mind. 

He wasn't scheduled for leave until February, but he was a Colonel, surely there were some strings he could pull. He smoothed out the folded letter with his large thumb before he brought the paper up to his covered nose, breathing in deeply so hebcould inhale the scent of the perfume. Yes, surely he could find a decent enough excuse that would let him take an early leave, he had enough influence with his ranking.. he would just have to try, even if it meant getting turned down and having to endure some physical punishment for asking.

𓆩♡𓆪

As time wore on, you were getting more and more restless. You hadn't received a letter back and if König had written one, you probably wouldn't get it until around New Year's due to how crazy the postal service was around this time of year. You'd be surprised if he got your letter either. 

It was Christmas Eve and only around 6 pm. You were in the kitchen preparing a small Christmas dinner for yourself and Bagel. All of your friends were busy with their own families and your family lived across the country so you were left alone for the night. Although your heart yearned for König, you tried not to let it completely ruin the holiday. You had planned to make a small ham and a few sides, something you could eat tomorrow night for leftovers as well. You were going to watch Christmas movies with Bagel curled up in your lap, wearing his cute little Christmas sweater that your mom had crocheted for him last year. It was lonely and a little sad but you found a bit of comfort knowing that you weren't the only person in the world spending Christmas alone. You just hoped that König was having a nice time on base. 

As you were putting the finishing touches on the small dinner and singing along to the Christmas music you had blasting through the apartment, Bagel's ears perked up and he jumped from his spot on the couch, rushing over to the door. You weren't paying attention, the music too loud to hear anything but it and your singing along. 

The lock turned and the front door was carefully pushed open. Bagel started barking, his nubbed tail wagging a mile a minute as he excitedly jumped around the stranger's legs. You couldn't hear the barking over the music and you danced around the kitchen as one of your favorite Christmas songs came on. 

König stood in the doorway, carrying a very heavy duffle bag and looking very exhausted. Despite how tiring his traveling was, his blue eyes immediately softened at the sight of you cooking in the kitchen and the sound of you singing along to Mariah Carrey’s ‘All I want For Christmas’. His heart swelled with love and he reluctantly pulled his eyes from you as he closed the front door and scooped Bagel up so he would finally stop his barking. He pulled down the mask he was wearing, thankful that the cold weather was a good excuse to wear one so he could feel a little more comfortable, and peppered kisses over Bagel's fluffy face. He set the dog down, unable to resist you. 

König’s large frame moved silently behind you, not that you'd hear his heavy boots over the music anyway. His hands reached out and gently rested on your hips. This elected a scream from you, and you whipped around ready to defend yourself against whatever intruder thought you'd be an easy target. Immediately König released you and cursed softly, not thinking about how easily that could scare you. “I'm sorry, mein schatz, I didn't mean to scare you.” He apologized but smiled warmly as he saw the realization on your face. 

Your eyes widened and lips parted in awe as you looked up at him, unable to comprehend that he was here and in your apartment. König shifted anxiously as he considered that maybe his surprise wasn't as well thought out as he hoped. Your hands drifted to his chest, resting them against his toned pecs and gently gripping at the soft grey shirt he was wearing. He was still wearing the KorTac regulations cargo pants and his combat boots. From the way he was dressed it seemed like he didn't even bother going to his own home before he got on a plane to get to you. He even still smelled a little earthy, just like the dusty training grounds on the base. 

“König.. I.. I thought you weren't going to be able to see me again until February, how..” you were a bit lost on what to say. You weren't expecting him to show up at all and it left you in a bit of a state of shock. You let your hands roam his clothed torso but your touches were innocent, just a way for your mind to solidify that he was really here. König smiled softly and you felt breathless seeing his handsome face for the first time in months. “Ja, don't worry, I took care of everything.” He said with a nod of his head as he grabbed your smaller hands and held them in his own. 

You were average height, but König was still quite a bit larger than you and it showed in the way his palms swallowed your hands. He had to lean down just a bit to press your lips together but when he did, you felt fireworks and butterflies each time. This time was no different and as your lips connected, you practically melted right into his arms. König loved that he had such an effect on you and he quickly wrapped his arms around you and tugged you into a strong embrace. As you broke the kiss to gasp for air, König pressed his forehead against your own. “I missed you so much, mein schatz.” He breathed out in a husky tone. “I'm all yours..” His accent deepened with his words, his eyes boring into you with a hunger you were all too familiar with. 

He reached past you to click off the stove, abandoning the dinner you were making as he practically dragged you to your bedroom. He would be more than happy to cuddle with you and watch cringe Christmas movies while drinking hot cocoa but first, he needed to show you a different reason for you to be happy during the winter months..

All of my writing is original work created by me. Please do not repost, translate, or alter them in any way.

[vagabond-umlaut]

Mercury x Sulfur

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader; Arranged Marriage; Childhood Friendship To Complicated Feelings™️; Fluff, Angst, Explicit Smut [Oral Fem!Receiving; P-In-V; Loss Of Virginity; Praises]; Angst With A Happy Ending; Porn With Plot & Feelings™️; Contains Manga & Anime Spoilers. This is 18+ Content -> Minors & Ageless Blogs Please DNI!!!

Oneshot From Series: One Day, Three Autumns [Can Be Treated As A Stand-Alone]

THE WEDDING NIGHT FIC NO ONE ASKED FOR YET I WROTE FT. PATHETIC GOJO & PATHETIC READER & THEIR BLURRY PATHETIC FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER... [I'VE NEVER WRITTEN SMUT BEFORE, SO PLEASE BE KIND TO ME 🥹🥹]

Gojo Satoru is much too similar to fire, you suppose— so vivid always, so warm always, so protective always– yet not without the promise of destruction simmering within the sweet blue blaze of his eyes — Very much the reflection yet the contrast to how you resemble the air— so empty, so hollow, so fucking void.

Nice thoughts to think of yourself on your wedding night, aren't they?

Certainly not, you scoff inwardly, toying with the band of sapphire on your left hand. Yet... you cannot, or rather, do not do anything to stop them from sneaking past the defenses you've guarded yourself with– into that twisted, sick, pathetic mess of neurons and darkness you're ashamed to call your mind nowadays.

The noise of the shower tumbles into a sudden hush. An equally quiet sigh escapes you, fingers moving from your jewellery to trace the tiny floral design on the off-white gown– your brain somewhat registering the bathroom door being opened then shut.

"Y'know, mint ice cream might've be— whoa, is that my wife crying?"

Less than one nanosecond elapses before you find your perch on the edge of the bed being crowded by six-feet-three-inches of white hair, chiselled face, toned abs and worry— Oh My Fucking God, the worry swirling in those damned eyes of his— Mustering chuckles and grins, you move to scoot away from him, ready to brush your husband away with some half-baked something, when you feel him draw you closer and place two warm palms on the apples of your cheeks– both gentle and firm in the fashion they cradle your face— they cradle your entire being in this moment.

Cheer trickling away from your countenance, you hear him whisper in an unbelievably contrite tone, "You're mad because you did not get to eat the last piece of cake– because I stole it away, isn't it so? Y'know... we can always visit the bakery we ordered the cake from and I'll order the same flavour we chose for our wedding cake, and you can steal as many bites as you want from my plate— guess, that will make us kind of equals, huh?"

Equals, huh? Equals, huh? Equals. Huh?

"No," you snap, betraying the smile you've been struggling to keep on your lips, "We'll never be equals, Satoru. I mean, yeah— in dumb stuff like these, we might be equals or whatever you believe in. But, in life– do you really think we're going to be equals, huh? Do you think there'll ever be a reality, ever be a world where we might be equals, huh?"

Thumbs stilling over the tear tracks they were oh-so-very insistent on wiping away, he blinks at you. Once. Twice. Thrice— You groan, trying to remove yourself from the man whose mere presence is fermenting your inside. Searing your skin. Twisting and turning your mind into an even greater mess than it's ever been– One you know you cannot find yourself from, if once lost to.

Large fingers curling round your left ankle stop you in your attempts.

"I think so," Satoru offers softly, the unblemished smooth porcelain of his skin streaked with gravitas, you've seldom seen in the many years you've known him yet know becomes him too perfectly– You chuckle, shaking your head.

"This isn't only you and me. This is the world I'm talking about. This is our world I'm talking about. Do you really think they'll ever let a lady— married, that too— stand beside her husband, and not behind him?"

The grasp on your ankle loosens for a beat.

Something cracks and splinters and shatters within yourself.

Something you never knew existed before now— something you wish to ignore, so fucking desperately, now that you know it exists.

Shaky whoosh of pain leaving, you kick your foot free of the hold on it and scoot backwards on the mattress, screwing your eyes shut – as if them being closed will make you blind to the response your query has gathered by not gathering any at all— every iota in your body loathing the way your emotions well over and down your dusted cheeks— way too much, way too quick for your liking—

Large fingers curl round your left knee this time, preventing you from your retreat by pulling you towards their owner yet again — Little that does to dampen your efforts, though.

Or, the scald in that tender part in that tender mess of muscles and blood– pulses and impulses– you've never liked lots, for that matter.

"Let me go," you growl, legs shifting and flexing and extending to free themselves. The soft covers on the bed crinkle and crumple from the fight you put up against the forces reeling you in. "Let me go, Satoru," you snarl one more time, trying your best to keep your desperation in the cloth you've wrapped it in, not letting its pus leak into your words, "Let go of me, now. Satoru. Or, I swear— Gojo!!"

"Sweetness."

Some other reality and you think you might find this enticing. Loving, even, if you're being particularly, delusionally sappy then.

Yet, in this reality, in this moment, as you find yourself on the edge of the bed, legs hanging off it whilst your husband traps the rest of your body beneath him, one good foot between him and your supine form — and he calls you that horrid nickname with that horrid smile– as if you're sweet like those kikufuku mochis he loves eating– and not the most sour, the most salty, the most bitter person he has ever met—

You let the fight seep from yourself into the horrible rose-scented air of the room, wretched wails clawing out instead of growls and snarls.

"I can't do this anymore, Satoru," you sob, chest heaving beneath the bodice of your gown, the pearl necklace snug on your skin stifling, "It is just so difficult— This world. This life. Everything is so fucking very difficult. And confusing. And demanding. And difficult— I cannot do- I cannot live this way with the entire world's eyes trained on me," you cry out; the stinging in your eyes, in your throat, in your soul growing worse with every other word you utter, "I simply cannot live with my–"

"And what if only my eyes are trained on you?" Satoru interrupts you, mouth set into thin lines; though the concern and affection sparkling in his gaze is unmistakeable, you note, peering up through your thick curtain of tears and emotions— being close friends since you were a pair of kids learning to read and write, does have its perks after all —

"Tell me, sweetness," A finger hooks under your chin to lift it up; your suffocating pearl necklace comes off within the next instant– "What if I told you, proved to you: you don't need to worry yourself with any person; anyone, anywhere, anytime in your life; not when they aren't a part of your world—" A sturdy arm hooks under your back this time, lifting you with ease off the bed, until you're in your husband's strong grip: loose to not give you any degree of discomfort yet tight enough for you to be assured he won't be dropping you—

You wrap your arms gingerly round his neck. He asks, dropping his voice to the lowest, to the gravest you've ever heard him, "What if I showed you, your world can consist only of us— only you and me— will you..."

He trails off suddenly, gaze darting to the side before it returns to you again— it's burning. Burning, burning, burning – Stoking a fire in your nerves, in your veins, in the pit of your lower belly, perhaps in the area nether to it too— Your husband's lips curve in the gentlest shape ever seen on him, quite betraying or, maybe, complimenting the hints and clues of that something, evident from the way his fingers flex on your back for the tiniest moment or the way the shadows of the night shift and morph in the brilliance of his gaze—

"You wanna prove to me w-whatever you said right now," you state in what Satoru calls your 'weather-reporter' voice. A brow rises before it returns to its place again– the man addressed nods. Solemn. Certain.

The muscles in your shoulders relax, opposing the muscles tautening elsewhere in your body– not from fear, no. Perhaps from anticipation, you reckon. Or, maybe it is from fear– except it isn't a fear of the man in front of you— The Strongest Sorcerer, capable of turning anything and everything, anyone and everyone, into dust if he so wishes to—

Except he doesn't. Never has. Not without a solid good reason— Oh, this sweet, sweet man— For once in your life, you decide not to stay dwelling on your thoughts, on your twisted, sick, pathetic mind— all for the sake of your husband, him looking at you as if you really are a delectable mochi he wants to devour.

Oh, what a sweet fool your husband is, isn't he?

Moving your hands from where they were resting on his nape to your front, wedging into the little space between Satoru's and your bodies, you inquire, choosing your words soft yet solemn, "And... are you sure you wanna do this tonight? That you won't be regretting—"

"I can do this tonight and every other night," Satoru replies, without letting you complete your query. Then grins, loads like that shy boy, you remember, attempting to befriend you with a pebble– blue and white and blue, years back when you still pronounced 'star' as 'tar'.

You let your palms face away from your chest to rest on his— still, so warm and uncovered from the shower he took— still so, so open and vulnerable to you, in spite of the slashes and gashes dear friends like you, like that damn boy, have only ever given him— He asks, "Do you wanna let me do this?"

A slow yet sure nod is the only thing you manage to offer him in reply.

That slow yet sure nod's also the only thing remaining crystal-clear in your mind— besides, obviously—

Those kisses, so shaky yet so fiery, pressed onto your lips, your chin, the hollow of your neck, the valley between your breasts, down down down, until they reached your thighs— And they grew less of adoring and more of wanting– with muffled moans and withheld whimpers— your lips constantly forming the syllables of your husband's name, as the man himself suckled purple splotches of his desire onto the flesh out there— Besides, obviously—

The sharp gasp of breath your husband made when he tasted you for the first time and you felt shame flood every nook and cranny of your naked body — how the gown or the lingerie were removed from your torso, you've no clue...—before the shame swelled into something far different, far pleasurable, with every lick, every nibble, every hum and every groan muffled into your sensitive tissue and bundle of nerves— steady in the beginning but rapidly growing in intensity, frequency or must you say ferocity, with every moment he spends with his head in between your legs—

And you came. Embarrassed. Ecstatic. Experiencing everything lying on the spectrum between them. Onto his waiting tongue, over his—

"Ah! S-Satoru–"

You're ripped back to the present by the feel of him entering you.

The stretch hurts— as much as you've read in books, as much as you have been told in extremely discreet terms by the older women in the clan— but never once has this feeling been described to you to be- so fucking perfect, so fucking right— as the one flooding your senses in this very instant—

Two blue eyes lift from where they were squeezed close against your forehead, slick with the sheen of sweat, blinking down at you with so much care, you think you may burst from how much of it you note in them hues— the dams holding your tears back sure do, increasing in the degree they allow your emotions gush out, courtesy of the palms mapping your flushed cheeks, caressing your flushed cheeks, almost as if you're some porcelain doll.

"Hey, hey, hey," Satoru croons, pausing himself entirely– despite the toll it takes on him, visible from the way his face scrunches for a tiny moment before wrinkling into lines of worry and apology again– "It's hurting, isn't it?" he asks, then lowers his voice to a whisper, directed more at himself than at you if its rambling quality is anything. "Fuck," he curses, removing his palms from your face, and curling them into tight fists on either side of your face, "This was my first time. And I— I, I know I should have been more careful, still I went and fucked up–"

"Satoru," you say, blinking your tears away, splaying your fingers onto the smooth planes of his cheeks, hoping he'll quieten on noticing the small smile on your lips.

"– caused you pain, oh fucking hell–"

When is he going to shut up?

"Satoru," you try again, tone growing more insistent than the previous time, fingers moving up to scratch the backside of his ears — to trace the shell of his ears.

"– I was so fucking ignorant, selfish–"

Is he ever going to shut up?

"'Toru!" you exclaim with a mild tug on his hair. That seems to be your trick in shutting him up— though you don't miss the way the muscles in his arms flex nor the way his fists grow tighter at your action. Smile widening on your lips, watching him train every bit of his attention on you, and only you; you pull him down for a small kiss— a desperation you've been trying to ignore for a while now– blooming in the motion of your mouth against his, with his—

Perhaps, from the way you hate him blaming himself for doing totally nothing wrong. Perhaps, from the way you detest the lack of friction, his irrational rambling has created down there where you want it, you need it the most— Perhaps, from a mix of both these reasons.

Removing yourself a touch from him, you whine into the plushness of his lips, breathless, dizzy, needy, "Move, Satoru. I think I can take it— Oh, that's it, Satoru," your words taper off into a breathy sigh, "F-fuck—"

In retrospect, you reckon you'll be mortified, probably to death, when you'll let your mind drift back to tonight's events in the future– to how messy you sound with your moans, how messy you possibly look with your makeup smudged from tears and sweat— yet, now— in this very second, you deem you're having the best time of your life.

With Satoru's constant grunts and moans of "Fuck, you're taking me so well, sweetness" and incessant chants of "This– you, you're mine– only mine, as I'm yours"— With him drowning your skin in long, lavish kisses and suckles— With him toying with your hardened nipples and giving your breasts a deliciously painful squeeze—

But, mostly, with the way your husband fits you– so snug, so tight, so warm– every drag of his hip against yours sending a jolt of electricity through your nerves, making your heels dig deeper into his back, and your hold tighter round him, nails raking across his undercut, eliciting a pleased groan from him– though, they're no match for those noises you make when he hits that spot inside, again and again and again, a rapidly growing precision in every next thrust—

"'T-Toru– I'm close- sooo close," you whimper, nuzzling your nose into his neck, breathing in his scent— musky, sweaty, sultry— "Just a little more, sweetness," Satoru begs, keeping an arm beneath your back to pull you even closer to himself— as if that is possible anymore— "You are squeezing me so well— oh fuck."

Your walls clench round him particularly tightly, signalling to you that you're indeed very, very close— despite the haze of pleasure steadily building over your gaze, you wear a fond smile at the half-lidded look he pins on you, his mouth hanging open, whilst his palm presses into your lower back. Subtly trembling, yet so anchoring.

You decide this is your new favourite look of The Six Eyes, the former being the staggered look he gives your smug grin whenever you best him in a fight.

He really is sweet, isn't he?

Another moan permeates into the air, into your thoughts, punctuated by your husband brushing his lips with yours. They are soft— as does every other facet of him feel to you. Movements growing sloppier yet faster, he heaves a husky sigh into your ear, teeth grazing its shell.

"You're really perfect, y'know," he all but whines with a rather dragged out snap of his hips with yours— Eyes fluttering close from the action tightening the coil in your lower belly, you force out a weak chuckle. "I know that I'm per— Oh Sato— mmph!"

Your climax hits you.

Hard, harsh and unforgiving— the wave of euphoria it wreaks through your body is, streaking your vision with nonsensical streaks of colours and cloaking your ears with a deafening ringing— your only tether the soft pair of lips gently coaxing you to dance with it to a melody you've never heard— but hope can hear and learn in the years left in your life— until you're back in the large bed of your hotel room, body sore and and tingling, but in a pretty satisfied and happy way— at least, till you notice your husband scooting away from you to the edge of the bed.

Wha–How–When did he get from being inside you to there—

"Hey, no!" you protest, dragging him down to lie on top of you. Satoru looks at you, shock evident in the way he slowly blinks— You plaster a mighty frown on yourself, asking him, worried, "Where are you going? You haven't fini—"

"But I have finished," your husband answers your incomplete ask with a frown to match yours— before a confused moment passes and you find his frown slowly melt away into a million-watt beam, him asking, "Didn't you feel me come too then, sweetness? Or, did I give you that good an orgasm that you were numb to everything else then, huh?"

Embarrassment flushes through your body at your husband's teasing remark. Ignoring it, you clear your throat to hum back with a smile, "I guess that was the case, yeah. You were really nice tonight— thanks." Then add, watching him open his mouth, the familiar gloom of regret threatening to dim his happiness, "And don't worry about then— I too— This was my first time too, and, um," you wish you could look away for a beat to regain your composure but the sparkles gleaming in the blue eyes gazing at you, are so magnetic— you continue with a laugh, sheepish, staring back at him, "I might have overreacted to the pain."

Whatever chuckle you were expecting never comes; rather, a tender kiss arrives on each of your eyelids, and on the tip of your nose. Your lips part in a content smile, widening on hearing the query sent your way.

"And was I just as great at proving to you what I promised to, huh?"

Your mind races back to then— the dark hollow plaguing you before he arrived. You pull it back to now— the radiance of your husband in every minute portion of your soul, filling it with a cosiness you know only he can impart to you.

"You so were," you're quick to hum back your agreement, paired with a peck to his lips, as he positions himself to lie comfortably atop you. He's quite a bit heavy, what with being so buff and tall– but you think you don't really mind it— not when he's incomparably better than the weighted blankets you've always liked sleeping with.

A hand rises to card through your tangled hairstyle, separating every strand from the other, carefully and gently— you wonder if he knows he does the same to your tangled thoughts too, unknotting them via few select words and few select gestures—

"You've the 'philosopher' face on," your husband's entertained remark interrupts your cloud of thoughts– you drag your eyes from that scar in his throat– one which never fails to throttle whatever sense of safe you might've developed– to the hues before, far more gleaming than the sapphires sitting on your fourth finger can ever be—

Satoru smiles. That annoying, understanding, endearing smile of his, which only serves to show just how much he has been forced by life to be matured. And murmurs.

"We're really equals in this partnership, y'know? You can always share with me whatev—"

"Is it wrong of me to compare you to fire and me to air?"

Your simple question catches The Strongest Sorcerer off-guard- you gather from the way his eyes widen and his heartbeat stutters a little over the bare flushed skin of your chest— you wonder if you must be happy at this silly victory or be worried, you have such a hold on him—

Something tells you, he won't mind either one of them — taking each into stride with a pitiful pout or a cheerful chuckle — the exact same way letting your inquiry settle into him, he responds with a grin in too short a span of time.

"Nope! Not at all!" Satoru exclaims, grin growing and digging dimples into his cheeks. "Obviously I'm fire! Have you seen me? I'm so fucking sizzling hot!" Despite the fondness swelling in your heart, you make a big show of rolling your eyes and moving to scoff — except that scoff remains lodged in your throat and gets swallowed by a gasp of shock as you find yourself being flipped over, so that it's you who is lying on the top now.

Grin growing freer and truer, your husband pulls you impossibly close to himself – so much so that the bounderies separating you from him begin to blur in your eyes; and resumes—

"And you, sweetness, of course, are air– without whose 21% oxygen, the fire cannot even be ignited in the first place."

I do not own the characters or the image used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please do not plagiarize or translate or repost this. Hope you enjoyed reading this! 😊

Please interact with This Post to be added to the series taglist! ❤️

Masterlist

SINCE THIS IS AN EXPLICIT FIC, I'M NOT TAGGING MY USUAL TAGLIST. INSTEAD, I WANNA MENTION FEW PPL [TAKING A LEAF OUT OF UR BOOK, SEL]— WHO HV SHOWN AN INTEREST IN THIS FIC WHILE IT WAS BEING WRITTEN, & HAVE ALSO ENCOURAGED AND MOTIVATED ME LOADS!! TYYY SM U AWESOME PPL!!!! 🥰🥰 [AND ALSO TO U, DEAR READER, FOR REACHING THE FOOTNOTES OF THE FIC!!]

TAGLIST: @moniheartz, @shotorus, @sukunassuka, @ancient-vivarium, @saenora, @avatarofstars!!!! ❤️❤️❤️ [THERE ARE MANY OTHERS TOO, WHO HV LIKED MY RAMBLING POSTS– I PROMISE I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN Y'ALL. ILYSM 😭😭😭]

[to-the-stars8]

Reviving Love

Jason Todd x Reader AO3

Chapter 2

Jason hadn’t meant to stalk your Instagram page, but it was too tempting. Your profile was public and you posted just the right amount that he could put pieces of your life together from the time he died to the present. Eventually, he had scrolled down far enough that he surprisingly found a picture of you and him.

By the shit mid-2000s Instagram filter and the poor iPhone quality, it had to be right when the two of you started dating. Jason subconsciously ran a hand over his cheek, feeling the stubble and small scar on his jawline as he stared down at the smooth-skinned, rosy-cheeked boy in the photo. It had been before the years got to him, and it was almost an anomaly to see himself so content. He’d forgotten he had been at one point.

Jason shut off the phone, the picture brought him back to reality. Even if he did see you again, he felt too unattractive to ever approach you. No, the scars on his body and the bitterness that hung off every word he said would probably turn you away. He sat on his bed, thinking about how if you saw him again you would probably be deeply disappointed. 

And, scared because, as far as you knew, he was dead. That much would be obvious. 

Jason cursed Dick again for bringing you up. He didn’t know if it was pathetic or not that he was thinking of an old flame from back when he was a little more than a teenager. Surely, you probably hadn’t thought of him in years as it looked like you had moved on with your life. In any case, he was happy about it and tried to do the same. 

The only time he’d ever thought of you before was when you popped up occasionally in his dreams. He’d wake up, and wonder what the fuck that was about. Then he would get up to work out, cook, or anything else so he wouldn’t dwell too much on the thought of you. 

This time, Jason got up to get something to eat as hunger was starting to burn at the corners of his stomach. When he opened the fridge, the light illuminating the dark room, there was nothing. Well, almost nothing. There was a pickle jar, expired cheese, and some beers but nothing that would constitute a good meal for a growing boy as Alfred would say. Defeated and hungry, Jason resigned himself to the horrible fate of having to leave his apartment to go to the store. Groaning, he pulled on some pants and a hoodie before grabbing his keys. 

It wasn’t too late in the evening so plenty of people were still going about, leaving work to return home or going out for the night. Honestly, Jason didn’t find it all too bad. In fact, in a certain light, Gotham could be nice. In a late eighties neo-noir kind of way. The sound of the people on the street with the traffic in the background under the light rainfall made Jason feel at home. It was the diamond in the rough. 

The light rain was a nice relief from the lately warmer weather as summer was finally fading away to let autumn in. Luckily, the store was right around the corner from his apartment, so being outside in the light drizzle wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. 

The store owners greeted him as he entered. Another thing he liked was this part of Gotham, the one not seen by people like Bruce. It was familiarity, a general tough, arms-length kindness that was much appreciated by him. 

“We’ve got those cigarettes you like so much, Jason,” The old man said. “Those imported ones, ya know?” 

“You know I can’t pass those up,” Jason laughed. “Let me grab some groceries and I’ll come back up here to grab ‘em.” 

With a laugh, Jason playfully waved off the old guy as he did the same, wandering down one of the many aisles. Bread, cheese, meat, and soda—The meal made for a growing boy. Jason wandered up and down for a little while, pausing at the selection of condoms before laughing to himself. Nah, he wouldn’t need those any time soon. 

He was about to turn down another aisle when he bumped into someone. “Shit, sorry,” He said, finally looking up. 

Just his fuckin’ luck, he had bumped into you.

[dozing-marshmallow]

hi! i was wondering if you could write duncan and courtney dating headcannons with a fem reader on the show? (separate) if not that's ok!

Awww no, it is okay! Thank you so much for the request, enjoy!<33

DATING COURTNEY HEADCANONS

From what we know about Courtney, it wasn’t hard to guess that her type was someone contrasting her.

So you were a bit of a cheeky contestant.

Okay, “a bit” was an understatement. Courtney didn’t like to admit it, but she found jubilation in your many ploys on the show.

Because of them though, she’d be on the assumption that you weren’t taking the competition seriously (even though you weren’t actually there to win the money), but you appreciate her reminding you to focus on the game and her helpful tips.

She wouldn’t want to openly say you guys are in a relationship as she’s aware that some people may try to exploit that for their own motives, but makes it clear that you’re off limits.

At night, you often share a bunk with her. Courtney would insist to be the little spoon, all the way through to the morning with her head on your chest.

Your darling Princess!

She loves sharing school stories with you.

“They actually had to rush her to the ER! Can you believe the manners some people have? How much of a litterbug do you have to be to throw your juice box out of a window from the fourth floor? We have bins for a reason!”

“Woah... So your teacher got a concussion from someone doing that?”

“Yeah! It sounds pathetic, but it’s what happened! The school assigned me to be in charge of delivering work from her and delivering notices to her. Makes sense since I was the only qualified student to take up that responsibility while still ace all my classes!”

She’s also fond of discussing hair with you and you play with hers and vice versa.

You like giving her little plaits, ponytails or a bun as high as it can go.

Additionally, she tries persuading you to do karaokes with her.

“It’s way better if we don’t have any instruments! You have nothing to hide behind and we’ll get used to being vulnerable with each other!” she smiled when she said it.

Looks like that couldn’t apply to her,“Oh, man...”

Though she’s a perfectionist, she loves complimenting you a lot.

“If you took that cap off your head and wore a headband instead, you’d look even more adorable! Would you do it for me at least?”

And her occasional feedback.

“What do you mean you haven’t read a single book this entire year!?” she jumps to her feet, horrified.

“Courtney, relax! It’s not a big deal.” you try to assure her with a grin.

She was more shaken at your presumably clueless behaviour to reading,“No, it is a big deal! You can’t just have everything on the outside and nothing in here!” she taps a tense finger to the side of her head,“My girlfriend’s gotta have brains with her beauty! I’m not dating no dummy!”

So she ordered you to sit down on the entrance steps of the Killer Bass cabin while she searched for a novel to give you- girl brought ten.

Out of her choices, she decided to provide you with Mercy Among The Children.

“There!” she hands you the clean copy, no crease or wrinkle, like all brand new,“You will read all of that and when you’re done, you will answer ten summary questions that I came up with to show me how much you learnt. And I will know if your answers are accurate, because I happened to give a presentation on this very book! I did it with ease thanks to my experience as a CIT.” her CIT talks got tedious very quickly, however if it made her happy, you didn’t want to take that away from her.

Therefore you gave something of your own instead,“What if I don’t know how to read?” you knew such question would aggravate her.

She shakes her head in disbelief, perfect autumn hair swaying,“Oh, you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that! You read the fine print of the contract to participate, didn’t you?”

Nope, but let’s pretend you did.

After a few seconds of “reading”, you call her name, to where she sat next to you, watching.

“What’s on your mind now?”

“I uh...” you turn to the back of the book, eyes scanning over the blurb,“Kinda don’t like the voice in my head narrating this. Could you read it to me?”

It seemed this request had halted her brain for a moment as she had stared at you with eyelids split apart again before her loving reprimand frolicked in the air,“Are you crazy? (Y/N), you know I love you, but I can’t do that! You gotta do this on your own, get used to reading in your head! How will you do in an exam when you have to stay quiet? I refuse to hear you getting disqualified over something as little as that!”

She’s so irresistible when she gets worked up,“Then I’ll transfer to your school so I can hear your voice everyday and be sure to pass my next exam.”

Her aim to lecture you had evaporated,“Oh wow...“ her eyebrows sprung back and she couldn’t believe herself for laughing at your not so futile charm,“Okay okay, just this once!” she declares, gently taking back the novel with both hands so it was still open.

As Courtney’s elegant voice embellishes the passage written down on the pages, you make promise to yourself to continue reading it in your own time.

After all, you know she’s just looking out for you.🤎

DATING DUNCAN HEADCANONS

You thought he asked you out as a joke, but he was serious.

Serious in love.

And he loved to be open about it. Not with words, but with his arm around you, calling your name.

He sprayed your hair for a day to see how green would look on you, however you got worried when it didn’t come out.

He would share stories from juvie and usually had an edible treat to give you as you talked. You always thought he had brought a stash of sweets, but looking at his luggage, you realise there was no way any high caliber food could survive in it.

“Mm, thanks Duncan! Where did you get this from?”

He winked,“Don’t worry about it.”

So you didn’t.

Duncan’s surprisingly very good at drawing; you use that talent as a couple’s activity.

He also likes drawing his initials on your arms with a marker, never forgetting to add a skull.

Loves playing with your hands and placing his one on your leg.

Sometimes you wear his shirt or use it as a blanket.

While Duncan wouldn’t really like to hug in public, he’d do gestures like rubbing your head or squishing your face.

He fantasises you someday getting a matching piercing, since you refuse to let him give you one.

“This nose piercing wasn’t painful, like a lot of wet wussies say, but it is a bit uncomfy for a few days. You sure you don’t want me to pierce ya? It’s free of charge~”

The treatment for the infection won’t be,“No thanks! I might decide to pierce my ears!”

“Ear piercing?” his face scrunched like the choice was boring, but his voice held hope,“Where exactly?”

“The lobe would be nice... But I’d also want to get one on the inside! Like industrial!”

“Now you’re talking.” Needless to say, he approved of those ones.

Duncan’s a night owl, so found his favourite part of the day being at night, when everyone else was certainly asleep. You two would go out to a different part of Camp Wawankwa every time to breathe in the wildlife air and have conversation crafted for the dark.

The first nights, you were hesitant. Your chest was tight. It was hard to enjoy the secluded moment with Duncan when your mind was racing with panic.

“Oh Duncan... What if someone sees us? I don’t wanna get in trouble...”

“We won’t. We’re not doing anything wrong.” his calm tone of voice somewhat helped, head swivelling to the closest functioning camera duck tapped on a tree,“The worst Chris’ll do is tell us to go back inside, though knowing him, he probably doesn’t care.”

You trace a finger on his chest,“I wish I could sleep with you in your cabin. But the girls would be suspicious if my bed was empty, and let’s not talk about what the guys would do.”

“Keen, huh?” his unibrow forms a squiggly line as one of the separate eyebrow bones upreared, making you push him gently out on exposed instinct,“I’m pretty sure everyone knows about us by now and the guys would be fine if you crashed in for a night or two.”

“I know...” Duncan’s friends were nice guys. When they wanted to be,“I just don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable.”

His laugh gets clogged by his nose,“You? Make anyone uncomfortable? Babe, trust me, unless your name starts with H and ends in arold, you don’t gotta worry about being alienated. If it means that much to you, we can wait until more people go home for us to share a bed.”

Ohh! You had forgotten about the competition and how it worked! Love makes you forget about the everyday things like the collection of the fires supplementing the sky just being rocks floating in space,“Until more people go home... How...will we make sure it’s not us?”

“Welll. I like you so that’s one less person to vote for you.” he starts,”The rest of the guys like you so you can count them out. Now for the chicks... Anyone you think wants you gone?”

Instantly, someone came to mind,“Heather,” your boyfriend makes gagging noises at the name, vining a smile on your lips,“Ever since I turned down her offer to join her alliance, I must’ve ended up on her watch list. Sure, we can act civil, but I can tell she’s impatiently waiting for my elimination.”

He snorts, brushing his hand on your back,“Seriously? Chicks hold a grudge over anything! Well, that alliance of hers can’t be doing so good when one of her so called members don’t even like her, so it’s not like you’re missing out on anything.”

“True... I get to enjoy the Duncan instead,” you look into his blue vision for that, seeing his irises sprout in ardour. You leave a tangible mark of your lips on his, finding your eyes wondering to a large robust tree not so far away from where Duncan held you,“I wonder... Do you think we could secretly build our own secret treehouse?”

“Up there?” he follows your gaze and whistles,“It is possible... All I’ll need are some tools to steal from Chef and it’ll be there in no time.”

“Duncan!” his romantic selfless take on your suggestion is piled over by his out of place mention of Chef’s inventory, which clicks something to your attention,“Is that...where you’ve been getting the snacks from?”

An unbeaten chuckle rippled out of his ribs, how carefree he was,“Looks like the cat got outta the bag!”💚

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

15, 17, B, and 💋 for the OC/ship ask game! :D

AH, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK! Thank you so much for asking about my blorbos, so happy to see a new mutual rollerskating! 🥰

I'm going to answer for Jia, my Last Dragonborn, and Miraak, her pathetic love interest!

☀️ask game!☀️

15. First thing they remember feeling proud of

I think, for Jia, her turning point was probably when she killed Alduin. The thing with her is that she has the lowest self-esteem there is. For years, she didn’t believe she mattered at all, and even after she was revealed to be the Dragonborn of legend, she still carried the ‘stain’ of unworthiness in her mind. The fact that she was somewhat green regarding her skills and the capabilities of her Voice at that point didn’t help her confidence either…

But when she killed Alduin? That was another story entirely. When Tsun Shouted her back to the Throat of the World, and she heard all the dragons roaring as one for the World-Eater’s fall and her triumph, when they gave her her dragon name—Shulyolviim, meaning Sun-Fire-Glow—and she was told how the sky itself seemed to blow out as she fought Alduin and all the stars went supernova when she finally prevailed... I think something sparked in her. For the first time, she felt truly proud of what she had done, of having borne the weight of Nirn on her shoulders (even if one of them was broken by that point! 😅). 

17. First favorites - favorite color, animal, movie, etc.

Oh, Jia has always had a soft spot for the warm, rich colors of autumn—shades of red, earthy browns, fiery oranges, and golden yellows! These colors are her color palette, too. As for animals, she’s undeniably a bird lover at heart: she has a special fondness for swallows, and she’s also frequently connected to this specific bird for Plot Significance…🥰

B. First impression of each other

OH, EXCELLENT QUESTION. For Jia and Miraak, I think they were unavoidably drawn to each other because of their dragon souls. They’re both neither fully mortals nor fully dragons, the sole individuals that seem to teeter between these two natures. There is an equal Fascination, for sure. Miraak is especially captivated by Jia’s eyes—which is not at all random to their story…👀 

Strangely, they’re both able to see through each other’s proud facade, their snappy back-and-forth or arrogance (or even insults!), they both detect one another to a level that it might seem they have already met somehow… as if they hide in each other somehow…👀

💋 - Favorite "first kiss" scene you've written between two characters

GAH, WHAT ABOUT SHARING THE ‘FIRST KISSING SCENE’ SNIPPET WITH YOU?

“Look at me…” He repeats once more, whispery and gentle-deep, this time in Tamrielic, and he cannot help but revel in her view: for, as much as he feels her shivers underneath his hands, Miraak hopes with his heart whole, that her soul sees behind the words he uttered, unequivocally, clearly, deeply. Or maybe, she can even distinguish the color of his eyes now, along with his renounced humanity—from when he was an ordinary Atmoran young man before he was sold like a slave to the Dragon Cult, before his face was covered by a vacant veneer and he became a stranger among strangers, and, above all, before he was plagued by Herma-Mora and almost transformed himself into a Seeker. “I want to see, to understand,” Miraak tells her, and they are so close to each other that only the sharpest of breaths separate them, and his lips scarcely skim upon hers with every word spoken, “what parts of me have buried themselves within you, or yours in me, because—because you see, I don’t know whether it was worth it, condemning yourself to me, I don’t know—” —but his words are cut off short when she entirely closes their small gap, and she swallows them down with her lips instead.

JUST. THEIR KISSING SCENE. It happened after a Grand Revelation between them and it happened slowly, tenderly, hesitantly, even awkwardly, as both are quite numb and oblivious about love and affection, but they make it happen here because they need it, more than anything in the world…🥹😭 My stupid idiots...

[tsumusangxl]

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chapter five ʚ [the denial]

pairing ʚ Hinata Shoyou x f!Reader x Iwaizumi Hajime

warnings ʚ Iwa's pov, not checked for mistakes, slight swearing, denial of feelings

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The hum of the city filled Iwa’s ears as he stepped off the train, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. The crisp bite of autumn lingered in the air, sending leaves skittering across the pavement with every gust of wind. He wasn’t one for nostalgia, but there was something comforting about being back in Japan—like slipping on a well-worn hoodie you’d forgotten you owned.

Tonight wasn’t about nostalgia, though. It was about catching up with Mattsun and Makki. Their group chats were always lively, but seeing them in person had become a rare treat over the past few years. Life had pulled them in different directions—work, cities, even countries in Iwa’s case—but somehow, they always found their way back to moments like this.

As he rounded the corner, he spotted the bar, its faint golden glow spilling onto the street. It wasn’t the kind of place they’d have picked in high school—too grown-up, too polished—but it worked. They weren’t kids anymore, after all.

Iwa pushed the door open, the warmth of the room hitting him first, followed by the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. He scanned the booths, searching for familiar faces, until he spotted Mattsun already seated, nursing a beer and scrolling through his phone.

“Early, huh?” Iwa raised an eyebrow as he slid into the booth. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Mattsun?”

Mattsun looked up, his usual lazy grin spreading across his face. “Funny. I could say the same about you. Didn’t expect you to show up on time, Mr. California Dreaming.”

“Guess LA didn’t mess with my sense of punctuality,” Iwa shot back, shrugging off his jacket.

“Makki’s going to have a field day with that one.”

“Speaking of,” Iwa said, glancing toward the door, “where is he?”

As if on cue, the door swung open, and Makki strode in, his usual mischievous energy practically radiating off him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Makki said, plopping down next to Mattsun. “Traffic was terrible. And by traffic, I mean I didn’t feel like leaving my couch until five minutes ago.”

Iwa rolled his eyes. “Some things never change.”

“And thank God for that,” Makki said with a grin, flagging down a server. “Alright, let’s hear it. Who’s got the most interesting life these days?”

Makki leaned back, stretching his arms out. “Mattsun, let’s start with you. How’s the coffee shop going?”

“Coffee shop?” Iwa raised an eyebrow. “I thought you worked at the funeral home. Did I miss something?”

Mattsun shook his head. “Not anymore.” He took a leisurely sip of his beer. “Miyu and I started talking about opening our own business after college, but we couldn’t make it happen right away.”

“So you worked at the funeral home to save up some money?” Iwa asked, taking a sip of his drink. “Damn, Mattsun. Never saw that coming. Mr. Entrepreneur.”

“Imagine him yelling at the baristas about latte art,” Makki chimed in. “This life already sounds pathetic.”

“Nah,” Mattsun said, waving Makki off. “I’ll leave that to Miyu. I just make sure the money flows and the customers don’t riot when someone screws up their macchiato.”

“Macchiato,” Makki repeated, like the word was foreign to him. “Who even orders that stuff? What happened to plain old coffee?”

“It’s called taste, Makki. Maybe try developing some.”

Iwa laughed, shaking his head. “You two are exactly the same. Anyway, what about you, Makki? Still looking for a job?”

“Hell nah, man,” Makki replied proudly. “I’ve started freelancing. Got some gigs editing videos for mid-tier influencers. It’s not glamorous, but better than being unemployed. Plus, I can work in my pajamas.”

“So… no change from high school, basically,” Mattsun deadpanned.

Makki shrugged. “Hey, I’m happy. Besides, I don’t need to third-wheel you and Miyu anymore.”

Iwa chuckled, leaning forward. “You guys are hopeless. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to make it as a trainer.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Gym Rat,” Makki teased. “How’s that going? Adjusting to Tokyo life?”

“It’s good. Different, but good,” Iwa said. “I started as a trainer assistant for the Tokyo Great Bears. It’s nothing major, but it’s a foot in the door.”

“Dude, that’s not ‘nothing,’” Mattsun said, looking genuinely impressed. “You’re working for a pro team. That’s huge.”

“Yeah, but it’s a grind,” Iwa admitted. “I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’m hoping to work my way up in the next few years.”

“You will,” Makki said confidently. “You’ve always been the most determined out of all of us. No doubt you’ll be running the team before long.”

Iwa smirked. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’ll see.”

Makki raised his glass. “Alright, here’s to Mattsun’s coffee empire, my pajama freedom, and Iwa climbing the ranks of pro volleyball.”

They clinked their glasses, a comfortable silence settling over them before Makki’s grin turned mischievous.

“So,” he began, leaning forward, “speaking of volleyball… anyone heard from the old gang?”

Mattsun groaned. “Here we go.”

“What? It’s been ages!” Makki said defensively. “I mean, Kyoutani’s still semi-pro, right? Anyone know if he’s still terrifying his teammates?”

“More like terrifying his opponents,” Iwa said with a smirk. “Last I heard, he’s doing well. Finally found a coach who knows how to handle him.”

“Small miracle,” Mattsun muttered. “What about Kindaichi? Is he still playing?”

“He’s with the Tamaden Elephants,” Iwa said. “Pretty steady career path for him.”

Makki snickered. “Can’t say the same for Watari, though. Did you know he’s working at the Kanagawa Aquarium now?”

“For real?” Mattsun asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s he doing there? Dolphin wrangling?”

“Something like that,” Makki said, laughing. “And Yahaba? Last I heard, he’s a sports instructor now.”

“Figures,” Mattsun said with a shrug. “Always had that bossy streak.”

Makki’s grin widened as he leaned forward again. “Alright, last one. Shittykawa. What’s our favorite drama king up to?”

“Still in Argentina, still Oikawa,” Iwa said, shaking his head. “Signed another contract and is as smug as ever.”

“Of course he is,” Mattsun said, laughing. “Bet he sends you highlights of every match he wins.”

“Every. Single. One,” Iwa said with mock exasperation. “And don’t even get me started on the selfies.”

Makki burst out laughing. “Some things never change.”

“Nope,” Iwa said, raising his glass again. “And honestly? I’m okay with that.”

Makki leaned back, swirling his drink with a sly grin. “Alright, enough volleyball talk. Iwa, what’s the deal with you and Y/N?”

Iwa nearly choked on his beer. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” Mattsun chimed in, smirking. “Makki’s right. You’ve been glued to your phone every time we talk. And don’t think we didn’t notice the notifications lighting up during that chat about Oikawa.”

“Yeah,” Makki added, leaning in dramatically. “Spill. Who is she to you?”

“She’s just a friend,” Iwa said quickly, his tone firm but his ears betraying him with a faint pink hue.

“Oh, it’s definitely not just that,” Mattsun said with a chuckle.

Makki tilted his head, mockingly serious. “A friend, huh? Like the kind of friend you’d drive all the way to Osaka to meet?”

His stomach twisted uncomfortably. It had been days since she’d told him about her run-in with Hinata. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the fact that she’d been hurt again, or how badly he wanted to protect her from it all.

“She’s… different, okay? We met through a mutual friend. That’s it,” Iwa said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Different,” Mattsun echoed, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “Wow, Makki, did you hear that? She’s different.”

“Totally different,” Makki agreed, nodding solemnly. “Definitely not the kind of girl you’d cross cities for, huh?”

Iwa groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Would you two shut up?”

It wasn’t a lie. She was different. From the first time they talked online, there’d been an ease between them, like they’d known each other for years. When she opened up about her past, about the wreckage Hinata had left behind, something in him had shifted. He wanted to be there for her—not because of romance. Or at least, he told himself it wasn’t about that. It was about trust. Respect.

Mattsun leaned back, crossing his arms. “Alright, fine. We’ll back off. But seriously, man, you’re dodging the question. Is there anything there, or are we imagining things?”

Iwa hesitated, fingers drumming lightly on the table. “She’s been through a lot. I’m just trying to be there for her, that’s all.”

Makki’s teasing grin softened, though the playful edge remained. “That’s sweet, Iwa. But you didn’t actually answer the question.”

“There’s nothing to answer,” Iwa said, too quickly. “She’s my friend. End of story.”

Because that’s all she could be, right? Anything more would be too messy. Too selfish. She didn’t need complications, not after everything she’d been through. And maybe he didn’t either.

“Right, right,” Mattsun said, exchanging a knowing look with Makki. “Whatever you say.”

Makki grinned, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it go—for now. “Alright, but when you need tips on how to confess your undying love, you know where to find us.”

“Or better yet,” Mattsun added, “just let us know when the wedding is so we can book our flights.”

Iwa shook his head, chuckling despite himself. “You two are impossible.”

“And you’re terrible at denying things,” Makki said, laughing. “But hey, that’s why we love you.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Iwa found himself distracted. His thoughts circled back to her. Maybe they weren’t entirely wrong. But whatever feelings he had, they were his to carry alone.

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notes ʚ

ʚ miyu is mattsun's girlfriend since high school

ʚ makki finally found a job but I think it will definitely change in the future

ʚ the career change for mattsun was a random thought

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next ʚ chapter six

previous ʚ chapter four

ʚ masterlist

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taglist ʚ @jojo23allegra @mjustag1rl @dazqa @gigiiiiislife

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 3

Part 4/25

Also on Ao3!

Eris

Of all the days Eris had lived to see, he’d somehow never imagined his own wedding day. He was strangely nervous. He would have never entered into a marriage of his own volition–he had told himself long ago that his love wasn’t worth risking the lives of anyone else, and definitely not someone he cared about. He knew arranged marriages were incredibly common amongst noble families, but after the failure with Morrigan, centuries passed and nothing else happened. He’d hoped he’d continue to just go unnoticed, and maybe Beron would continue to forget his marriage potential. It seemed his time had run out.

Eris wasn’t ignorant of how arranged marriages within the noble families worked. He’d known he would have no say in his bride, but he had thought he might at least know her name or face before he they met at the end of the aisle.

Eris knew her party had arrived the previous afternoon. He’d been out on business, but had seen the servants unloading the carriages when he’d returned. While he had never met his bride, he’d had the unfortunate displeasure of knowing who her uncle was. Donal Beck was an unpleasant man–stout and ruddy. He was the younger brother of a noble line, always scrabbling for more land, more power, more, more, more. He himself had never married or had children, but he was a known skirt chaser in the villages of his territory. He used his station and money and threats–and clearly not his looks–to secure the pleasure of females. When he visited the Forest House, he split his time between terrorizing the female guests and servants and cowing to Beron’s every whim. It was pathetic.

Eris, however, knew absolutely nothing about Donal’s niece. Apparently, she’d been the heiress of Donal’s late brother who had died in the war with Hybern. He remembered having met the male long ago, though he stayed mostly to his own territory to the north. He did, however, know of his recent prowess in the battle against Hybern. People of Autumn had spoken of it for weeks–the rampaging swath of death that was Kieran Beck. He’d single-handedly taken out massive battalions with his fire and his sword skills. He’d died on the battlefield that day. Eris remembered hearing his wife had died centuries before, leaving him with just a daughter who Eris may or may not have met once in his youth–he’d need to do some subtle digging–but he assumed that his bride must be that daughter. He hoped she’d have a thick skin. She’d have to in order to survive here.

Eris stared into the mirror, straightening his collar and tunic below it. He pulled his sleeves down and secured the amber cufflinks. He shook out his hands. He hated this nervous energy. His chest felt like a great weight sat upon it, making it nearly impossible for him to take a breath.

Would she look at him and find him lacking?

Stop it.

He had to get control of his thoughts. It was stupid to think of this as anything other than a transaction. That horrid, acrid voice rolled around in his head.

How pathetic to think you could find happiness with someone. Weakness.

He shuddered and rolled his shoulders. He couldn’t manage to shake that tiny spark of hope.

Would it be so terrible to hope for a friend?

His mind warred with itself. He’d been alone for so long. In all likelihood, Eris knew she would probably be one of the vapid girls of Autumn dying for a raise in status like so many who had been thrown at him over the years. Every event, ball, equinox, female after female was dressed and painted and paraded in front of him like cattle. He hated it. They were all horribly shallow girls who saw him only as the heir. Why would this one be any different? She was, after all, from the same circle of nobles that those girls frequented.

He quashed his hope like a bug beneath his heel. They would meet, marry, and produce a child. How hard could it possibly be to copulate and wash his hands of it? It’s not like he hadn’t regularly found release in the hundreds of years of living. This one would just be attached to him a bit more legally.

Eris could already feel a headache forming behind his eyes.

Do not let this distract you from your purpose. This is a means to an end.

He would never be cruel like his father, but it would be foolish to entertain the idea that this stranger might become something more to him.

And Eris couldn’t afford any slips like that.

Matilda

Matilda frowned at herself in the mirror. The staff had spent hours today painting her face a litany of stupid colors, shoving her into an Autumn dress of lace, and ripping her hair at the root to make her into a presentable bride.

The dress itself was gorgeous, lace from stem to stern, and actually did make her smile. The neckline plunged to her chest, showing a bit more chest than she would have chosen for herself, but the intricate lace wove tightly down over her arms, flaring into a bell sleeve at the wrist. It corseted around her waist, then bowed back out into a waterfall of beautiful fabric inlaid with pearls sewn all the way down. It was by far the nicest thing she’d ever worn.

The makeup and hair, however, were a nightmare. She waited for the last of the staff to leave then locked the door. They’d been so strange–refusing outright to speak to her, even when she asked questions. She wondered if all the staff here were that way.

She hurried to the bathroom, found a cloth, and began to scrub furiously at her face. Today began her servitude for the rest of her life, but she’d be damned if she’d go into it looking like a painted jester. They’d covered her freckles entirely and painted a deep red onto her lips that aged her centuries. She wiped everything but the kohl around her eyes, then dried her face.

Much better.

She also had to admit she found the rooms absolutely beautiful. The entire suite she was in was made of rich wood, polished until it shone. The colors were the deep, beautiful greens, browns, and reds of Autumn. Frankly, they reminded her a lot of her father’s house. She hadn’t slept the night before, kept awake by nerves for today and memories of her father and mother. She sent a little prayer to whatever afterlife there might be and whatever gods might be listening that they would keep her safe.

Tonight would be her wedding night, which in and of itself was a worry enough for her. She hoped that Eris didn’t expect her to be a virgin at five centuries old; he would be sorely disappointed. The whole week she’d wondered what he’d be like. She tried to stop herself, knowing that the worrying would be of no use to her, but it was impossible to not think about it.

After arriving yesterday, she’d been seen to her rooms, then hadn’t encountered anyone except the staff who brought her dinner, then breakfast, then lunch and got her prepared for the ceremony. She’d eaten alone, though she could hear people milling about in the hallways outside her doors all night while she tossed and turned. She did have a turn in the beautiful bathtub with water that was deliciously hot against her skin, the heavy copper tub holding the heat against the chill of the air. The floors of the guest suite had been covered with thick rugs to hold heat, too, so perhaps she’d find some silver linings to living here.

She had no idea where anyone was, or if someone would come and fetch her for the wedding itself. As if reading her mind, a knock sounded on the door. She took one last look at herself and found her reflection to look much braver than she felt. An escort had arrived to walk her to the ceremony.

The male did not speak to her at all, but he seemed friendly enough. He’d had an almost-smile on his face as she’d answered the door, and that seemed to be about all she would get out of the staff here in Autumn. He had dark, chestnut-colored hair that shone as they passed the windows. The sun was setting and it cast the halls in deep oranges and reds, making sure she remembered exactly what seasonal court family she was marrying into. He stopped as they reached an archway leading out to what appeared to be a courtyard, and she took a deep breath to step through it.

The music began as Matilda got her bearings, took one more deep breath, then looked up the long aisle where she would meet Eris Vanserra, her betrothed.

Time stood still as her hazel eyes met his amber ones. She was supposed to be walking, but she’d stalled out when she laid eyes on him. A gentle push against her lower back snapped her back into the present and set her into motion.

He was astonishing, and by the look he was giving her, she might be inclined to think he felt the same about her. His beauty was cold, and sharp, and absolutely stunning to behold. His wine-red hair curled and tousled into a perfectly placed pile on top of his head, and it reminded her of the deep red leaves of her home. His eyes were pools of honey, the russets, yellows, golds, and browns of the foliage of their court merging to form the most depthless eyes she’d ever seen. Her heart beat out of time as she beheld him, feeling the tiniest needle of hope at how attractive she found him.

He was dressed impeccably, his clothes tailored closely to his body that must have been wrapped in centuries of honed muscles. He didn’t command the armies of Autumn without training for that kind of role. His hands, however, seemed strong yet delicate–the long fingers graceful as they clasped in front of him.

He parted those hands and held one out to her, his ivory skin freckled and shining in the setting sun. Looking back into his eyes, she reached out and tentatively took his hand, heat zapping through her at the contact in the way only Autumn magic could. Despite her having hidden hers for almost 500 years publicly, her magic begged to dance with his. His hands engulfed hers with a warmth that heated her through, and she was reminded of her father’s warm, loving grip.

She’d foolishly let the hope bloom in her heart, but perhaps this was a sign that things might be okay. Matilda laced her fingers through his and prayed that the open, earnest look in his eyes wasn’t just for show.

Eris

Beautiful. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld.

When she’d rounded the corner of the courtyard, it had felt as though his heart had seized in his chest and then abruptly taken off flying without him attached. She was absolutely astonishing.

Her gilded red hair shone in the sunlight like a halo, matching the fall flowers she gripped tightly in her dainty, lovely hands. Her face was like beholding the sun directly–her eyes focused straight on him made him feel like all the sentient thought had been knocked from his head. They were the most beautiful hazel he’d ever seen, like the rich forest floor, lined by dark, thick eyelashes. As she got closer, he saw the constellation of freckles across her nose and cheeks and was overcome with the urge to count each one.

Breathe, Eris. Control. Get back in control.

He forced a breath into his lungs, but he couldn’t look away from her. It was as though his entire universe had narrowed to this one point of contact; nothing else mattered. He compelled another breath into his lungs and desperately tried to regain use of his brain as he reached for her hands, but the zap of magic when he touched her echoed through the empty chambers of his heart and clanged all the way through his lonely body. The hope reared its ugly head, and he was a goner.

The only thought Eris could force through his head was that he hoped his hands weren’t sweating all over hers. He couldn’t even imagine the thoughts he’d been having just an hour ago about tolerating her presence.

Please, please don’t be tedious and shallow.

She quirked an eyebrow at him as though she’d heard his thoughts and he involuntarily huffed a laugh, shocking his own eyes into widening.

As he stood there, looking at this female that was about to become his wife, he knew with more certainty than he’d ever had before that he would do everything in his power to treat her kindly, to show her warmth and joy here. Something had changed within him in these last few moments, and there was something about her, past her unequivocally beautiful exterior, that told him she was special–different.

The priestess began the opening remarks, the welcome, but Eris was still staring squarely at her.

“We’re here today for the joining of Eris Vanserra and Matilda Beck…”

Matilda.

He rolled the name around in his mind, memorizing the sound of it, the feel of it. It felt right, as though it belonged there. He repeated after the priestess when asked, his eyes never once leaving Matilda’s. When it was her turn, her lilting voice blew through him like a gale of wind through the woods.

They spoke together–“You are mine, and I am yours. From this day, until the last of our days, and then on into eternity.” And Eris could have sworn the entire world shifted on its axis. He knew he would be hearing that infernal voice in his mind any moment telling him to stop being so weak, so pathetic, but for once he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Without thinking, he brushed a hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear, and her lips parted in a surprised smile. Eris Vanserra, perhaps for the first time in his entire life, was left entirely speechless. The priestess spoke that they may kiss to finalize their marriage, and though it was chaste, that petal-soft press of her lips to his had sealed his entire fate. In mere moments, his life had been changed irrevocably. There was no use fighting the glimmer of hope that burned brightly inside of him now.

He could dare to be happy.

Eris couldn't help but feel like the world was transforming in a way he had not been prepared for. He was stuck within the pull of the tide, and not one single piece of him wanted to fight it.

Matilda.

[queenofhyruleee]

Link/Reader Story

I tried to write a one-shot today but got carried away and ended up with the first chapter of a short story. I've never posted on Tumblr before but hey, there's a first time for everything, right?

Summary: After being shrouded in Twilight and tormented by monsters for so long, Hyrule is finally recovering and returning to normal. And what's more normal than a shitty relationship? You're a potions-maker's apprentice who is dating someone who is... less than ideal. While you're struggling to navigate your deteriorating relationship and dwindling self-confidence, your good friend Link is determined to help you see that you deserve better.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, and as it fell so did your spirits. You sighed, dropping your chin into the palm of your hand. He probably wouldn’t show. 

Again. 

You decided that you were only going to wait for another ten minutes before calling it a night and going home. Frustration bubbled in your stomach, and as the minutes passed you found yourself fighting back tears of frustration. 

Why hadn’t he come? Why does he keep doing this? 

You had been romantically involved with Elis for the better part of a year. It had started off strong and sweet, with him dropping by the potions shop where you worked nearly daily with some sort of sweet treat or pastry. Eventually, those days came fewer and farther between, but you hadn’t thought much about it because it made sense that maybe the excitement of the new relationship was wearing down. You weren’t worried because he still treated you with kindness and was happy to spend the weekends wandering around Castle Town or down by the lake. But recently, it was as if you didn’t exist. He hardly made time for you anymore, and when he did he didn’t even show half the time, later claiming some issue or another had come up suddenly. 

Like he would probably do again after today. 

Through the tavern window, you watched as crowds strolled past, chatting animatedly and munching on various foods that were being sold in the different stalls that currently lined the roads of Castle Town. Today was the Autumn Festival - the first one since the strange monsters had been eradicated and Princess Zelda restored her rightful place on the throne. The entirety of Hyrule was celebrating not only the beginning of a new Autumn, but its freedom as well. 

Yet despite all of the happiness and celebration, you felt as lonely and dark as ever. 

Sighing again, you decided you had spent enough time looking pathetic alone at the table, looking up hopefully at the door anytime you heard it open. Standing up, you caught the attention of the barkeep, Telma. 

“Headed out?” She asked, a knowing look in her eye. You nodded as you walked up to the bar, digging around in your satchel to try and find your wallet. Telma reached across the bar, resting her hand in front of you and making you pause. “No need, hon. This one’s on the house.”

You looked up at her, eyes wide. “No Telma, I-” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “It’s the Autumn Festival today, and everyone deserves to have something nice done for ‘em.” 

Your look of protest melted into one of gratefulness. You smiled at the older woman, feeling appreciative that at least someone cared enough to be kind to you today. 

“You know, speaking of which..” Her tone had changed to one a bit darker. She grabbed a dirty cup from the pile at her side and began to clean it with a rag she held in her other hand. “This is the third time in a month I’ve seen you sitting there all alone for a few hours, looking more anxious than a man whose girlfriend just told him she missed her monthly bleed. Wanna tell me anything about that?” Her eyes bore into yours, waiting for an answer you had a feeling she already knew. 

She was aware that you and Elis were together, and she expressed from the beginning that she wasn’t entirely happy about the fact. Telma was one of the first people you met when you moved to Castle Town from your family’s farm just outside of Kakiriko Village. She immediately took you under her wing and helped you adjust to and navigate the fast-paced life of the city. Even though you were there as a potions-makers apprentice which gave you housing and meals, she still insisted on doting on you and taking care of you as if you had nothing. And in a way, you had had nothing. You were forever grateful for her kindness, her hospitality, and her unwavering friendship. You knew that she cared about you more than maybe even your own family, so you absolutely hated the feeling of knowing you were disappointing her. 

Elis was the son of one of the richest businessmen in Castle Town, and maybe even Hyrule. And he… did not have the best reputation. You of course had no way of knowing that being new to the area and all but Telma, as the owner of the most popular bar in the city, was privy to all of the hot gossip and drama. And apparently his name was one that came up with the patrons of her bar. A lot. 

When you first caught Elis’ eye, and Telma started to catch on to what was happening, she had given you a warning. 

“Now I’m not your mother, so I’m not here to tell you what you can and can’t do, or who you can and can’t do. But honey.. I’d think twice before you get involved with him.” 

Of course you had thanked her for her concern and promised it wasn’t that serious, but now you were regretting not asking more questions. You had fallen in way too deep and before you realized it, you were telling yourself you were different from the other people he had been with. You would change him. Surely you wouldn’t be one of those bitter ex-lovers, drunkenly rambling on to anyone who would listen about how awful he was to you. 

Well, you hadn’t made it to the drunken rambling part quite yet, but you were certainly starting to catch on that maybe you wouldn’t be the one to change him after all. 

Telma continued to look at you expectantly, waiting for any kind of answer to her question. You averted your eyes, knowing you wouldn’t be able to lie if you had to look at her face. 

“No, everything is fine. I just have been feeling a bit suffocated at the shop lately. So I’ve been coming here to get some time alone.” Now that the lie was out, you met her eyes again and gave her a very non-convincing smile. 

Telma raised her eyebrows and gave you a very deadpan look to show you that she did not believe you in the slightest. You were certain that she was going to keep pressing for the truth, but much to your relief she instead just gave a resigned sigh and shook her head. 

“It’s just hard to watch you settle for this when we both know you don’t have to.” 

“It’s fine, really!” You tried to sound upbeat. “He’s just been super busy lately, and things keep coming up.” 

Telma rolled her eyes as she grabbed another cup and began to scrub. “‘Things keep coming up’ my ass,” she muttered. Then louder, “You actually believe him when he says that?” 

You bit your lip, knowing it wasn’t even worth the effort of trying to lie. So you remained silent instead, which was answer enough for your friend. 

“You deserve better than this, sweetie. You really do.” She cocked her eyebrows, and a small smirk suddenly replaced her annoyed grimace. “You know, you deserve something like a knight in shining armor. Someone who would treat you like royalty.” Her emphasis on certain words gave you the impression that she was trying to imply something, but whatever it was it went right over your head. She continued.

“Someone who is loyal, and kind, and would ride to the ends of Hyrule for you.” 

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay Telma. Find me a man like that who would be interested in someone as plain as me and then we’ll go from there.” The sarcasm dripped from your voice, hiding the painful emotions that were beginning to stir again as you thought about how little Elis really seemed to care about you. Ride to the ends of Hyrule for you? He couldn’t even walk a kilometer away to meet you for dinner. And maybe that was all you could hope to get. 

Telma froze, giving you an incredulous look. She set down the items she was holding and put her hands on her hips, scoffing. “Now really?” 

You shrugged, dropping all efforts to hide your true emotions. “I’m a nobody who works as a potions-maker with nothing significant and no money to their name. Sure, a knight in shining armor sounds great and all, but someone like that would surely be sought after by all kinds of people with more to offer than me. And if they’re an actual knight then I know for a fact they’re one of the most desirable bachelors out there. I mean, take Link for example. He has women and men alike practically throwing themselves at him.”

Though you knew that comparing Link to a normal knight was hardly accurate. He was anything but normal. He was one of the members of the Royal Guard and recognized as a hero by the people of Hyrule. You weren’t sure you understood all of the details, but you did know that he had played a major role in expelling the monsters from the land and restoring peace to the kingdom. Once the major damage around the kingdom had been fixed and things began to settle back into a normal existence, Princess Zelda had held a large ceremony open to the public where he was officially made a member of the Royal Guard. You had laughed so much that day, knowing just how uncomfortable the guest of honor was with all of the attention. 

Aside from being a famous knight and hero, Link was someone you would consider a close friend - maybe even your best friend (of course you would never tell Telma). You had met him for the first time back when the monsters still roamed and he frequently paid visits to Telma and her tavern to speak with members of the Resistance. 

You had only heard stories about his bravery and heroism from your friend until the day she came crashing into the shop where you worked, speaking frantically about needing a health potion. She didn’t explain much, but you didn’t ask any questions either as you quickly got to work and provided her with what she needed. She promised she would explain more later and rushed out as soon as you had placed the bottle of red potion in her hand. You spent several hours after that as a ball of anxiety, creating the worst scenarios in your head about why she could possibly have needed the potion. 

It wasn’t until you were about ready to close the shop for the day and rush over to see her that the door had opened and in walked a face you had never seen before. The man certainly looked as if he had seen better days and was in desperate need of a nap, but regardless you were slightly taken aback by how handsome he still appeared. He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and (you assumed) muscular arms that were hidden underneath a loose, white long-sleeved shirt. His hair was a beautiful dirty blonde, tied back with a simple leather band that left loose strands framing his strong jawline. His face had been rather pale, and dark circles sat beneath blue eyes that you suspected were dulled due to exhaustion. But despite his obviously not wonderful condition, he had still exuded a sense of strength that was almost intimidating. 

“Um, h-hello,” you stuttered. “I’m just about to close up-” 

“Are you the one that I have to thank for saving my life?” He asked, taking a step forward. You froze up, and then frantically looked around the shop, trying to find the other person he was obviously talking to, because there was no way he could have been talking about you. A warm chuckle brought your eyes back to his face, where his soft smile nearly made you breathless. 

“Are you the potions-maker?” 

 Mouth slightly open, you continued to stare. “U-uh yeah, that was me I guess.” 

He nodded and continued to walk further into the shop, closer to you. You noticed that he seemed to be walking with a slight limp. 

“Well, I just wanted to come here personally and give my thanks. Without that potion I’m not sure I would have the opportunity to be standing here now.” 

You were certain that the look on your face was ridiculous, but you had no idea how to respond to this situation. It was your job to make potions, you didn’t need any thanks for it. 

You wanted to say thanks, but instead when you opened your mouth you said, “Why are you standing here right now? If you needed that potion less than 12 hours ago, you should almost certainly still be in bed.” You gestured to his body, “And no offense or anything, but you really look like you should still be in bed.” 

His colorless cheeks turned a bit pink then, and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, almost shyly. “Well, Telma is a wonderful person and all but I was starting to feel a bit…” 

“Smothered?” You finished for him, stifling back the laugh that threatened to come out, knowing how your friend was. A look of relief washed over the stranger’s face and he nodded, seeming to realize that you understood how he was feeling. 

“Yeahhh,” you drawled out, nodding sympathetically. “I understand that all too well. I actually had to put a lock on my bedroom door the last time I had a small sickness to physically stop her from bringing me medicine and food every hour. I love her to death but I can only take so much soup in one day.” 

He laughed then, and you wondered how in the world a laugh could sound so nice. Pushing those thoughts aside, you introduced yourself then, holding your hand out to the man. He smiled and took it, his hand calloused from years of hard work but gentle nonetheless. 

“I’m Link.” 

A lightbulb went off in your head then. “Oh, you’re Link? I’ve heard so much about you!” 

“I could say the same about you.”

It was the start of a beautiful friendship from that point onward. Whenever Link was in town, whether he was restocking his supplies, working closely with other members of the Resistance, or doing whatever it is that heroes do, you always made sure to make time to see him. And he did the same. He probably became your number one customer, always putting in bulk orders for various potions. You always joked with him about how often he needed health potions, but truthfully you were very worried about him and how he was constantly out in harm’s way. It was a lot of work, filling his large orders, but you were happy to know that you were helping to keep him safe in some capacity.

“And you’ve never.. stopped to consider why Link never takes anyone up on their offers?” Telma asked, still staring at you with an incredulous look. You couldn’t understand why she was acting so strange all of the sudden. 

“Not really,” you shrugged. “I just assumed he’s too busy for it or that he does and nothing comes of it. He doesn’t talk to me much about his conquests, work-related or… otherwise.”

Telma shook her head. “No, honey, I don’t think he’s out there conquering anyone. He seems to have uh.. a specific goal in mind.” There it was again, that tone in her voice that made it seem like she was implying something that you just weren’t understanding. It nagged at you, but you chose to brush it off. Who knew what was going on in your friend’s mind. 

“Well, regardless. I just don’t think I’m the type of person someone like a knight is trying to settle down with. But who knows, maybe I’ll ask Link if any of his fellow knight friends are available and interested.” You laughed, the joke seeming ridiculous. But your friend, on the other, didn’t seem to find it so funny. She stood, her mouth slightly open as if she couldn’t believe what you were saying. 

“You’re joking, right?” 

Frustration was starting to build up within you, unable to understand what you were doing that was so hard to believe. Why was Telma treating you like you were an idiot today? You were slightly kidding when you ragged on yourself about not being good enough, but did your friend genuinely believe it so strongly that even a joke about asking a knight was too much? She was the one that started the whole thing in the first place! 

“Of course I’m joking Telma,” you snapped. “I know my place. Elis is probably the best I can hope to get.” 

Telma closed her mouth, pursing her lips with an unamused look. She shook her head slowly and turned around to organize the newly cleaned mugs and glasses. “It’s not my place to get involved,” she said quietly, more to herself than to you. Still feeling frustrated, you huffed loudly and turned to leave. First Elis, now Telma. This was not shaping up to be a good day. 

Before you could fully turn around though, she glanced back, stopping you with the serious expression on her face. “Really. You can do better. There is better out there. Waiting to love you the way that you deserve to be loved. You just need to open your eyes.” 

Your sour emotions were already set though, and you were in no mood for cryptic messages. “Alright, thank you fortune-teller Telma. I’ll see you later. Thanks again for the drink.” And without looking back, you walked to the door, opened it, and took a step into the darkening evening. 

The air was crisp and cooler than it had been since the spring, signifying the exit of summer and beginning of a chilly autumn. Very fitting weather for the night of the Autumn Festival. 

You crossed your arms tightly against your body as you walked, the thin shirt you chose to wear not doing a good job to protect you from the chill. You felt your temper cooling as you walked as well, gradually being replaced by a feeling of deep sadness and loneliness. All around you were people enjoying the festival, happy to be surrounded by those they love. Grandparents lovingly watching their grandkids laugh and play as they ran through the crowded streets playing tag, friends walking together and sharing stories that made them snort and grab their sides from laughing so hard, new couples attached at the hip and so engrossed in each other they hardly watched where they’re going… it was isolating. Here you were, recently stood up for the umpteenth time by someone who was supposed to care about you, walking through massive crowds of people and yet never feeling more alone.

You felt an all-to-familiar tightness in your throat, and the tears began to prick the corner of your eyes, blurring your surroundings into blobs of shimmering color. You fought hard to keep your composure, determined to make it back to the shop so you could run to your small bedroom upstairs and never come back out. But the loud voice in your head was determined to break you. 

Why? Why am I not good enough? Did I do something wrong? How can I be better?

The strong feeling of hopelessness that came with those though breached the dam you had built to hold back the tears, and with a loud sob, they started to spill. A few people within your vicinity turned to look at you curiously, likely wondering what could have caused the noise that came out of your mouth. You put your head down and covered your mouth with your hands, hoping to muffle the sound of the sobs that continued to come involuntarily. 

Luckily for you, there was a small alleyway directly to your left. You were able to shove past the poor innocent people who were in your way and beeline for the abandoned area. Once you were in the alley, you began to run, desperate to get as far away from people as possible. You weren’t able to make it very far though as a dead end blocked your escape. Incapable of thinking of any other alternatives, you resigned to this being your stopping point and slid down the wall until you were sitting with your arms wrapped around your knees, legs tucked as closely to your body as you could physically get them. Dropping your head down, let all of the feelings you had been holding in for the evening out. 

It was overwhelming yet cathartic. The force of your sobs wracked your body for what felt like hours, the thoughts of inadequacy and rejection running through your mind on an endless loop. But eventually, you found it easier and easier to take deep, measured breaths and the body shaking sobs gradually slowed to a halt. No longer did you feel… well, anything. The only thing you could feel now was numbness. A quiet calm to replace the raging storm that had been going on. 

You sat up, leaning your head against the wall behind you. You stared up at evening sky, the sun out of view as it dipped closer to the horizon. You’re not sure how long you sat there, relishing the feeling of feeling nothing at all. You knew you needed to get up, but you worried that once you stood the feelings would come rushing back. 

Your solitude was ruined by the loud crashing noise of a door being opened with extreme force close by. The sound startled you, making you nearly topple over with surprise. 

You heard a whiny, high-pitched voice over the thundering beat of your heart. “Come on, it’s about to start!! We’re not even going to get a good view at this point!” 

A few meters away, a young child came running out of the small apartment door that you hadn’t even realized was there. Had they heard your crying? 

“Leon, slow down. There will be plenty of space available. The procession goes all the way from the city gates up to the castle. Certainly not everyone will be crowded in the same area.” An older woman stepped out after the child, her smile conflicting with the stern tone in her voice. She didn’t even glance in your direction as she shut the door behind her and followed the child down the alley to join the festivities you had so desperately escaped. 

Ah yes, the procession. You had almost forgotten all about that. 

As a closing event of the Autumn Festival, the royal family traveled in procession through Castle Town, waving and acknowledging their loyal and loving subjects. It was not just them, however. The royal carriage was last in line in the procession. Preceding it were several (and in your opinion, more interesting) groups. Professional jugglers, wowing the crowds as they showed off the impressive skills they have while on the move. Bands of Gorons who marched in step, beating out different tunes powerfully on large drums. One year, when you were young, there was a fantastic group of Zora dancers who mesmerized the crowds with their movements, as smooth on land as they were in water. It changed from year to year, but since this was the first Autumn Festival celebration after years of being terrorized by monsters, it was sure to be a big one. 

You continued to sit, looking towards the crowd as it continued to grow, their excited voices bouncing off the walls of the empty alley. Normally, you would be one of them, jumping up and down with excited anticipation to see what that year’s procession has in store. But now you couldn’t imagine standing there, surrounded by happiness and laughter. 

The crowd roared as the first part of the procession finally appeared, slowly crawling through the street. You listened as people cheered for the performers who walked, “ooh”ing and “ahh”ing as they did whatever it was that they were doing. You couldn’t see through the crowd of people who now blocked off the entrance of the alley, so you could only listen and imagine, picking up bits and pieces of conversations as it drifted down to your ears. 

You didn’t need to be able to see when the Gorons arrived, however. That you could feel. The vibrations rattled your entire body as they beat their drums in sync, the unfamiliar tune sinking into your very bones. It was an oddly relaxing feeling. You were happy to close your eyes and rest your head on the wall, soaking in the feeling. You were left with an achingly empty feeling in your chest when the Gorons were far enough away that you could no longer feel their drums. 

You decided that even though you were tired, you would wait until the end to get up and begin making your way home. With the crowd the way that it was, there was no way you would make it anywhere anyways. So, you continued to sit. 

As you waited, your mind drifted to Elis. If he hadn’t come to meet you, then where was he? Was he just lounging lazily in his bed as he so often liked to do, unable to be bothered to come meet you? Or was he out there in the crowd, standing with his friends, cracking jokes without even sparing a single thought for you? 

Your heart dropped as another thought crossed your mind. Was he out there in the crowd with another girl? Had he spent the evening whisking someone else around to the different stalls, sharing all sorts of sweet treats with her? Feeding her fresh fruit as they walked? Whispering things in her ear, making her giggle and blush? Did he give her his jacket when she began to shiver because she was only wearing a light shirt? Was he going to take her home once the festivities ended? 

You could feel the emotions coming back, much to your displeasure. You didn’t want to feel anything. You liked the numbness. But the thought of Elis leaving you to look foolish while he was out entertaining another girl was too much to handle. 

You decided that you needed to get home. You couldn’t stand to be out any longer. You would shove people out of the way if you needed to. 

Standing up quickly, you made your way back to the entrance of the alley where the crowd was currently a wave of excitement. You began to push your way through, but you were only able to make it to the front of the crowd before you realized you were stuck. There was rope that stretched down the street as far as you could see on both sides of you. To block people from crossing the road and potentially getting hurt or messing up the procession, you assumed. 

Frustration bubbling and exiting your body in the form of hot tears that welled up in your eyes, you turned to push your way back. But once again, you quickly realized that wasn’t going to happen. A large Goron stood behind you, happily oblivious and chatting with another large Goron besides them. Considering you had to crane your neck to look up at their faces, you assumed that you would not be able to get their attention with all of the noise and distraction. Groaning inwardly you turned back and stood miserably, knowing that your only option now was to stand and wait for the procession to end. 

Luckily you didn’t have to wait long before you heard the sound of the horns, signifying the arrival of the royal carriage. Once again, the crowd around you came alive, everyone excitedly standing on their toes and moving around to try and get a look. 

The horses were the first thing to come into view. Beautiful white horses donning colorful, bedazzled bits and draped with navy and gold saddle blankets made their way past you. Children and adults alike stuck their hands out, reaching to try and get a touch of the magnificent creatures as they passed. You wanted to be excited, but the heavy feeling in your chest and tightness in your throat remained, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the tears began to spill again. You just hoped you could hold out until you were able to get away from people.

Something heavy suddenly pushed up against your right shoulder, nearly toppling you over. Luckily you were able to keep your footing and straighten yourself up before falling. Pushing the hair out of your eyes, you glared in the direction of the mysterious force. 

Two girls, probably just a few years younger than you, were standing there, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“So sorry!” One squeaked, genuinely looking scared. You held your glare for a few more seconds before turning your head back to the procession, not even bothering to accept her apology. Her and her friend did not seem bothered for too long, however, and began to chat animatedly. They were so close that you couldn’t help but overhear. 

“Do you think we’ll see him?”

“Of course we’re going to see him you idiot! He’s like, Princess Zelda’s shadow! Wherever she is, he is!”

Suddenly the conversation you were trying very hard to ignore grabbed your attention. You realized, with slight amusement, that you had a good idea as to who they were probably talking about.

“I mean, I don’t blame her for always wanting him around.” 

“Oh I totally agree. If I had a knight who looked like that, I’d never let him leave my side.”

The girls burst into giggles, and you rolled your eyes. But also, you knew you couldn’t blame them either. There was no denying that Link was very easy on the eyes. 

The girl closest to you sighed wistfully. “He just seems so dreamy. He’s brave, and strong, and he’s so kind! One time I saw him buy a whole basket of bread that he then passed out to the line of people who had been waiting for hours to see the doctor. This was when that horrible sickness came through Castle Town a few months ago and everyone was sick! He risked his own health to make sure people were fed while they waited.” 

You hadn’t heard about that, but you were not surprised in the least. Link was an absolutely selfless man who consistently put other people’s needs before his own. He had done it a time or two for you as well. One of those times was actually during the sickness that the two girls were referring to. 

You had managed to stay healthy for awhile, but you found yourself extremely overworked during that time, trying to keep up with the mass influx of orders of health potions and other remedies that came pouring in from desperate townspeople. You had averaged about an hour of sleep a night for days on end, and were lucky if you were able to eat a single meal. Luckily, Link had offered to help you with deliveries which took a massive load off of your plate. However, it still took a major toll on your body physically. Luckily, Link was there to save the day. You know, like heroes do. 

The bell dinged, signaling that someone had entered the store. You didn’t even bother to turn around, busy cutting and weighing the ingredients in front of you. It was a very precise recipe, and even the slightest miscalculation or mess up could change the effect of the potion entirely. 

“Hey, I’m back.” His calm and gentle voice was a welcome break from your frantic muttering out loud to yourself as you worked. You simply grunted and waved the hand holding the knife into the air to acknowledge his arrival. 

His laughter was followed by footsteps as he walked behind the counter, coming to a stop beside you. His presence seemed to bring you comfort, and you could feel yourself starting to relax slightly. “You know, waving a knife at a member of the Royal Guard could be seen as a threat. Be careful where you point that thing.” 

You rolled your eyes and finally turned your head to face him, your exhausted smile meeting his boyish grin. “At this point, there is nothing you could do to me that is worse than what I’ve been dealing with the past few weeks. Go ahead and lock me up or chop me up, either is preferable at this point.” 

His smile faltered, and you could see the concern in his eyes. Suddenly, he looked very serious. “Have you eaten today?” 

Sighing, you put down the knife and stepped away from the ingredients. You decided a short break wouldn’t hurt. Running a hand over your face, you tried your best to stifle a yawn. “What time is it?” 

“It’s a few hours past midday. Have you eaten?” He repeated, eyes boring into yours. You worried your bottom lip, nervous to tell him that you had not. 

“Well, Elis told me he would bring me lunch an hour before noon.” 

Link’s eyes hardened. “And did he?” 

You laughed timidly, shrugging. “I’m sure something came up and he was too busy.” 

The blonde did not look impressed in the slightest. “So, no.” 

You waved a hand nonchalantly. “It’s okay, I’m not super hungry anyways. Too busy to be hungry!” With fake enthusiasm, you made to turn back to your ingredients and continue working. Link’s hand gently touched your arm, stopping you from moving. 

“You need to take care of yourself. You need to eat.” The concern in his face made your heart skip a beat. 

You nodded finally, giving in. “I know, I will. I guess I won’t be any help to anyone if I die of starvation huh?” 

Link shook his head, his expression still very serious. “I’m not worried about other people. I’m worried about you.” 

You froze, your breath catching slightly in your throat. Your brain seemed to malfunction as you tried to figure out how to reply. But Link was suddenly distracted, rummaging around in the satchel that was slung across his body, a concentrated look on his face. Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for and pulled out a small brown bag, which he then held out to you. You looked at it, then back up at him. He nudged it forward again, prompting you to take it. 

“Please.” 

You didn’t have any words as you gingerly took the bag from his hands. Slowly, you opened it and peered down at the contents. Bread, cheese, a few slices of dried meat, and a large red apple. You looked back up at your friend. 

“I can’t take your lunch from you!” You exclaimed, trying to push the bag back into his hands. He was having none of it though. He grabbed your hand with both of his. He gripped it gently but firmly, closing your fist over the opening of the bag and pushing it back towards you. 

“It’s not my lunch, don’t worry.” 

“Oh, so you just walk around with spare lunches in your bag?” Though when you really thought about it, he did always seem to have literally everything inside that bag..

Link looked away, suddenly seeming shy. “Well, no. I brought it. For you.” 

“For me?”  For what felt like the millionth time that day, your chest swelled with gratitude for the blonde. 

“You know.. just in case.” 

It was both charming and upsetting. It was extremely sweet that Link was concerned and thinking about you. But it made your heart sink to think that Elis, someone who claimed to love you, couldn’t even be bothered. You tried your hardest to fight back the tears as you nodded and accepted the meal. 

Link seemed to let out a breath of relief, smiling gently as he watched you pull the bread out and nibble on the edge. 

“Please promise me you will take better care of yourself.” 

You just nodded, your mouth full of bread. He narrowed his eyes and leaned down, his face just inches away from yours. You froze, suddenly feeling nervous at his proximity. 

“Promise.” 

His face was once again serious, but his eyes were soft. Caring. 

You swallowed the bread you had been chewing and nodded again, genuine this time. “I promise, Link.” 

He continued to stare, unmoving. “You promise what?”

You groaned, making a face. “Really?”

But his stoic expression told you that he was not joking. 

“I promise that I will take better care of myself,” you muttered, feeling like a child who was being scolded. He still didn’t move for a few moments, however, continuing to search your eyes with an unreadable expression. Finally, he stood up and nodded once. 

“Good. I expect to see you eating every day from here on out. On your own,” he added. “Not waiting for a meal that will never show.” 

The meaning behind his words cut deep, and once again you were reminded that the one person who was supposed to care about you didn’t seem to. 

But at least you had Link. 

 A loud squeal brought you back to the present, where you hadn’t even realized you zoned out. 

“Oh here it comes!”

And sure enough, the royal carriage came into view, pulled by two gigantic horses. What little sunlight remained reflected beautifully off of the gold exterior, the different jewels that decorated it sparkling magnificently. The fabric top was not in place, giving the crowd an unobstructed view of the figure standing inside. 

Princess Zelda was the vision of beauty and grace as she smiled and waved to the crowd. Her blonde hair was pulled out of her slim face and back into an intricate braid that was adorned with flowers that matched the white and lavender dress she was wearing.  A small but genuine and warm smile graced her lips, and her eyes were sharp and alert as she scanned her surroundings and took in the sight of her subjects. She exuded a sense of strength and unity, which was something the people of Hyrule had desperately needed for so long. 

Once again, your train of thought was broken by an obnoxious squeal. 

“There he is! I told you! I told you we’d see him!” The girl next you jumped up and down, not even realizing that she bumped into you every time she did so. Her friend was leaning heavily over the side of the rope, trying to get the best view possible. You held your breath, feeling anxious all of the sudden for a reason you didn’t understand. 

His hair was the first thing you spotted, the navy cap contrasting heavily with the blonde locks that weren’t quite as well tamed as the rest of him. The pristine white trousers and navy and crimson tunic hugged his athletic figure generously, showcases the strength he had built over years of hard work and fighting. His sword was strapped to his back, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice if needed. But what you noticed most about the knight was the way that he carried himself as he marched alongside the carriage. 

He held his chin high, shrouded with an air of confidence well earned from countless successful battles. Despite his tall and muscular frame, he was endlessly graceful, almost gliding along the ground. His bright blue eyes were alert and sharp, and he scanned the crowd continuously, making sure there were no imminent threats to the princess or otherwise. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him, suddenly finding yourself enamored with everything about him. Telma’s words from earlier came back to you as you continued to stare. 

A knight in shining armor. 

There was a phrase to describe Link if there ever was one. From his strength, to his courage, to his generosity, to his kindness. He was the embodiment of a true knight. 

Suddenly, you found yourself once again reliving the memory of the two of you in your shop, concern etched into his face as he stared down at you. 

“Please promise me you will take better care of yourself.” 

“I’m not worried about other people. I’m worried about you.”

An intense feeling of loneliness and longing washed over you, making it harder for you to breathe. You bit down on your lip as you fought to hold back the tears that suddenly welled up in your eyes. 

Whoever Link chooses will be the luckiest person in all of Hyrule. To have someone who cares so openly, someone with such a good heart.. Not someone who would continuously abandon plans and give half-hearted excuses for why he can’t come. 

But what you had told Telma was true. You were a nobody with no money to your name. You had nothing to offer anyone. Elis was rich and had status. For someone like him to be with someone like you was almost unheard of. It would be silly to get caught up on something as silly as feelings when you were being given more than what you deserved. 

It still hurt though. And the tears still came, spilling over and sliding down your cheeks. 

“He’s getting closer! Oh my goddesses, he’s almost right in front of us!!” The girl next to you grabbed her friend, shaking her with excitement. You watched from the corner of your eye as they quickly rushed to fix their hair and straighten out their dresses that had been ruffled in all the commotion. 

You found yourself annoyed at their behavior, but appreciated the heads up. With you being in the front, there was a very good chance that Link would see you. And he couldn’t see you crying. You turned away, trying to hide your face as you wiped frantically at the tears. But it seemed like the more you tried, the more the tears came. You began to panic, which only added to the strong emotions that you were feeling and made everything worse. 

You turned back around, planning to just sneak a quick peek to see how much time you had before he walked by. If he was too close, you planned to just turn around and stay turned around until he was well past you. Sure it would look funny, but he wouldn’t know that that was the back of your head in the crowd. 

But unfortunately, just like it had been for the entire day, luck was not on your side. As soon as you turned around, piercing blue eyes met your red and watery ones. 

You immediately straightened up, wiping frantically at your face and trying to plaster on a smile that was horribly unconvincing. Link’s eyes widened as he took in your appearance, and you could see that he was visibly struggling to keep his facial features calm.

“Annessa, he’s looking at you! I can’t believe it, he’s looking at you!!!”

The girl’s voices sounded far away as she screeched at the girl next to you, whose name was apparently Annessa. The only thing you could focus on was Link and the pained expression he worse on his face as he fought against whatever emotions he was currently feeling. 

Once again you tried to give him an unconvincing smile, but it was the ultimate failure as your lips quivered and you had to put your hand over your mouth to hide the sob that came out. 

Did he know? Did he know how pathetic you were? How you weren’t even worth your own partner’s time? Surely he had to know that, as someone who was one of the most popular men in the entire kingdom. He was only nice to you because that’s who he was. He was a nice person. 

You maintained eye contact with him for as long as you could, but eventually you had to turn away, embarrassed by your emotions and how unstable you appeared. When you brought your head back up, Link was no longer looking at you. He looked forward as he continued to march on. 

Exactly. He knew that you weren’t worth it. That you were an embarrassment. 

But what you weren’t expecting was for him to turn his head, glancing back over his shoulder to get one last look at you. You weakly waved, and he frowned before turning back around and continuing to look forward. 

“Did you see that?? He even looked back at you!! You made the Link do a double take!!!” 

The girls next to you jumped up and down in excitement, squealing on and on about Link and something about marriage and children. You weren’t sure because you tuned them out. You tuned everything out. That feeling of numbness returned, which you were grateful for, and you spent the rest of the procession staring at the ground, blissfully unaware of anything happening around you. 

Eventually the procession had ended and the crowd began to clear, excitement still in the air as the chatted about the day’s events to each other and made their way home or to the bars. It was nighttime now, so the party would likely continue for most of the adults, whether that was in the tavern or at private parties around the city. 

For you, you were just happy that you could finally make your way home. You did not want to party, you did not want to socialize. You wanted to crawl into your bed and never get out. You wanted to physically become one with the pillows. 

As you approached the shop, you had a stupid hope in your heart that maybe Elis would be there waiting for you. That he had come late to the bar to meet you, and when he couldn’t find you in the crowd he decided to wait for you at your shop. But, of course, you were met with disappointment and darkness when you arrived home. Nobody was waiting for you at the door, and there were no explanations about why he never showed. 

You entered the shop and barely remembered to lock the door behind you before dragging yourself upstairs to your bedroom. Master Shido was out of town, traveling to who-knows-where for some rare ingredients, so you did not have to worry about the noise you made as you collapsed on to your bed. 

Today was awful, and you wanted absolutely nothing more than for it to be over. You lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, but sleep never came. Instead, your mind whirled continuously about Elis. 

What was he doing at the moment? Was he with another woman? Did he even feel any remorse for standing you up? How would you confront him? Should you even confront him? What would you say if- 

Thud. 

Your froze, your racing thoughts stopped by a loud, muffled noise downstairs. You held your breath as you waited, in the silence and in the darkness, for more noise to come. But it never did. 

You were starting to believe you had simply imagined it when it came again.

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

Someone was knocking on the front door of the store.

[notoriousbeb]

autumn variations: a haylor pov

Longtime friend of both Taylor and Harry, Ed Sheeran, announced Autumn Variations, his seventh studio album, in August 2023, saying it was 14 tracks inspired by what his friends were going through in Fall 2022 (see @foxes-that-run timelines for the Folkmore Joever Harry’s House of it all). 

He released it in September 2023. 

There are three tracks I think could be about Harry and Taylor. Here they are. 

Page 

I see this as from Taylor’s perspective, in the midst of things falling apart with Joe, and perhaps in the wake of reconnecting with Harry during the pandemic while they were both in LA. 

I'm a half-read story, I was fine on the shelf

Why did you take me down as if I needed your help?

No prior warnin', no one to catch when I fell

Now that you're not around, I'm not doin' so well

Do I look like a monster underneath all my skin?

I wanna cut all this open till I'm feelin' somethin'

Now I'm chasin' the cracks, so I can let the light in

I'm in love with the ghost of ya

Better luck next year, there's nothin' left here

Why am I constantly searchin', feelin' unsettled?

Livin' in Hell, pretendin' it's Heaven

Head spin, maybe I'm destined to be

Always lonely, alone, a loser, pathetic

Maybe tomorrow will be better

But I'm stuck on the page

I'm a half-read story, better off in the fire

Now I feel like the fool, haunted by desire

For a moment of glory, I would risk all I am

I look at what we had and I don't understand

Blue

When I listen to this, I think of Harry, pining in silence. 

Oh, it took a while to read the signs

But she used to be a friend of mine

Leadin' forward, but fell behind

Loneliness redefined

Over and all of above, I hope for

Happiness is all you know, but

I can't help but holdin' on, on

Silence is never golden

Quietly stuck in the moment, I'm not over you

I'll be forever lonely

Silence ain't golden, you know that it's only blue

Blue

It's only blue

Blue

Oh, I missed the mark a hundred times

Tried to take it back and change the night

Yeah, we used to set the dream alive

Till the day it sunk and slowly died

Head > Heels

This I hear from mainly Harry’s perspective, but kind of telling the story from both their perspectives—what could be if they truly chose each other now. 

She came in the bedroom

Lookin' like a photograph

Turned to face the window

Moonlight traced the contours of her back

Only she can see me

Shed the skin that guards the man

Sheltered by the ceiling

This is the start and end of everything

And we'll go it alone

'Cause no one will understand

How it just feels like flying

Here within the confines of your bed

How beautiful we blend

Crashin' in, head, then heels

Unrequited love songs

Longing words we used to sing

Your faith was in the first one

We opened up our hearts to let them in

And now all these scars are keloids

Reminding us and cautioning

Rebuild what was destroyed

Turn it, then the chapter can begin

[devinabechtel]

EXIT WOUNDS.

For the past few days, Devina had been the star of her own little play. The first act was to hide the obvious, and tricking Katrina & Alecto into believing a viscous cold had taken her voice had been surprisingly easy. A little cough here, a pathetic sniff there — it was enough to keep at least Alecto at bay, given her already fragile immune system. Katrina had been more insistent, expressing her concerns in a way that only a mother can do. But her injuries were nothing a turtle-neck and some well-applied make-up couldn’t hide and so the truth behind her mysterious ‘cold’ remained a masterly hidden secret.

There were only a handful of house-elves who were privy to the truth behind that night. A few house-elves and a certain Amycus Carrow — which is where Act II came in. You see, the real challenging part of this facade wasn’t the feigning and the well-timed coughs, it was pretending the aftermath of what happened down in the dungeons simply hadn’t happened at all. It was easier that way, Devina told herself. Easier to make herself believe that she hadn’t found comfort in his protection (and in his bed) that night.

But from this morning on, there was no need to keep up with this little performance anymore. The formerly violently purple bruises had faded into nothing and her voice rang as clear as ever thanks to the new concoction Devina had come up with. And so, the young witch was on a mission to fit herself back into the daily life at Carrow House.

The libary would be her first stop, to return the copious amount of novels that had been keeping her company during her ‘illness’. And then on to the breakfast room, to surprise Alecto with her presence. On Devina’s face rested a happy smile, a certain spring in her step as she made her way through the winding hallway that led into the foyer. The rare, autumn, morning sun was streaming in through the large windows, marking the start of a brand new day.

Starting now, Devina thought, it was back to normal. Not that this arrangement between herself and the Carrow family had been resembling anything close to ordinary, but at least from this morning on it was back to regularly scheduled programming, or whatever.

Or — it should have been.

It should have been. But something was off, something was severely, horrifyingly off. Devina noticed it as soon as she set foot in the atrium, like a deer stepping into a compromised clearing. Somehow, some way, Devina Bechtel knew it was bad before she even lifted her eyes from the stack of books she was carrying. Before she saw a man at the other end of the room, before she heard that awful and familiar voice from that night in Diagon Alley.

Fuck.

“Are you lost, little bird?”

The little Order slut reacted in the exact way Evan Rosier had hoped she would. It was like heaven to him — the fear registering in her eyes, the gasp rolling off her perfectly fuck-able lips, the books hopelessly toppling out of her hands. Fucking hell, he could almost feel his pants tightening around his member. Carrow had let her out of her fucking cage. 

Devina had dropped to her knees out of instinct, which was perhaps the worst mistake a prey such as herself could have made in this specific situation. She should have turned on her heels and ran, she should have screamed. Should’ve, Should’ve, Should’ve. Instead, she had followed after the books like a pathetic child, eyes trained on the covers splayed open on the marble floor, hands scrambling to collect them closer to her person. It was no use, her hands were shaking so badly that they wouldn’t stay in her grasp.

Fuck.

“How curious,” Rosier crooned, obviously relishing in this moment. His black boots appeared into view, causing Devinato withdraw her hands in an instant. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“How very fucking curious.”

Devina tilted her head, nails dug into the skin of her knees beneath the sheer layer of black tights. Her heartbeat thundered away behind her ribcage as she struggled to control her haphazard breaths. Cue Act III. — She forced herself to look up at him, with big, hazel eyes. And you better play your part very, very well — or this will be the last act.

[littleperilstories]

The Prince of Thieves: Finale II - The Woods

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03! | Playlist | Story Intro

Warnings: being followed, fear of attack/getting jumped

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Word count: 1612 || Approx reading time: 7 mins

Part 2: The Woods

Teaser: Goodness, I truly was a fool to think that the past would never catch up to me. Perhaps deep down, I knew that at some point, some part of my old life would leak into this one—the meeting of Bree and Lucy.

Bree

Sleeping is impossible, and when I rise in the morning, I’m more tired than when I fell into bed. Victoria is still dead to the world, but she won’t be for long. It’s my day off, but not hers, and perhaps any minute now she’ll be up, too, and then I might have to face her questions. I managed to avoid them last night by pretending to be fast asleep when she came up to bed. If she catches me now, though, I won’t be able to escape her interrogation.

And I do not want to talk.

Goodness, I truly was a fool to think that the past would never catch up to me. Perhaps deep down, I knew that at some point, some part of my old life would leak into this one—the meeting of Bree and Lucy.

It just feels so soon.

I know it’s not, not really. It’s been over a year now since I left the city. Long enough that the bitterness of that day, of slipping away in the late-autumn freeze, has faded. I’ve almost managed to forget how piercing the wind felt as I wended through the streets looking for a shawl or a blanket to swipe from somewhere. It’s a distant memory, how frightened I was that someone would look at the fading-but-visible marks on my face and start asking uncomfortable questions. A long, long year since I caught one of the last trains out of town before the snow came, my ticket purchased with stolen money.

Money I took from a man who was eating in this very inn last night.

Fuck.

I throw myself into my whites, making sure to pull on an extra pair of stockings to ward against the cold, then hunt for my heaviest dress, a dark blue woollen one. It’s pretty, but it is the warmth of the wool that I’m after, because I can’t stay in here. Here, where Victoria can ask too many questions; here, where the inner circle of IA and the doctor who betrayed the constabulary might be sleeping as we speak.

And I need to think.

They didn’t see me. Of that, I’m mostly confident. None of them were even looking my way when I fled the room. I’m safe. Surely, I’m safe.

My hands are shaking when I grab my coat and yank it over my arms. I drop my heavy grey shawl twice before I manage to tie it around my shoulders.

Air—that’s all I need. Clean, fresh, biting air. It will wake me up and clear my head and perhaps quieten some of the panicked thoughts that simply will not stop screaming through my mind.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Son of a bitch.

Stella, the inn’s owner and my boss, is already downstairs, sitting in her favourite spot by the window with her hands wrapped around a hot cider. I can hear Celeste, her friend who helps her with the inn who everyone knows is her lover, rustling around in the kitchen, singing softly to herself. “In vain you tell your parting lover / You wish fair winds may waft him over…”

“Thought you were sick,” Stella says, narrowing her eyes. Her hair is more grey than gold at this point, and sometimes Victoria and I have noticed that she looks a bit like a prune with all her wrinkles, but her mind is sharper than that of possibly anyone else I’ve ever met. She’s going to want answers about why I disappeared during the dinner rush last night, and I don't think she’ll be very gentle in her words at all if she’s not satisfied with the ones I give.

“Alas! what winds can happy prove / That bear me far from what I love?”

I draw a long breath and try to look pathetic. “I… I am. Yes. I am sick. I’m going to see the doctor.”

“You want me to send for him now?” She narrows her eyes. “Fetch him here? Shouldn’t go walking about in the cold if you’re ill.”

“Alas! what dangers on the main / Can equal those that I sustain / From slighted vows and cold disdain?”

“No—No, that’s all right,” I say, trying to not stammer too much, which is hard when her piercing gaze is boring right into me. “I’m feeling a bit better, but I think perhaps I should just…”

Stella looks me up and down with undisguised suspicion. “You better not be in a delicate condition there, little miss Lucy, or you’ll have to go somewhere else.”

“A… A delicate condition?” She stares into my very soul until I finally realize what she means, and when I do, my face burns hot as coals. “No! No, it isn’t that. It can’t be. I promise.”

“I hope for your sake, Lucy,” Stella says, “that you’re telling the truth. Being unmarried but working hard is one thing. Being unmarried and—”

My voice is nothing more than a squeak. “I’m not—”

A clatter interrupts my frantic insisting. “Now, Stella.” It’s Celeste calling, still invisible, from the kitchen, clearly eavesdropping now that she’s done singing. “Leave the poor girl alone and let her get on.”

Bless Celeste and her gentle heart. She’s the less terrifying of the two of them.

“Thank you,” I mumble, heading for the door. “I’ll be back later.”

The cold air, instead of being painful as it sometimes is in the dead of winter, soothes the burning in my cheeks. A delicate condition, indeed. All Victoria and I do is work. When does she think, exactly, I’ve had the time to get myself into a delicate condition?

That was a conversation I never expected to have with my employer, and I pray I will never have it ever again.

Dawn breaks smoothly and sweetly over the town. I clamber through the snow to the top of the hill, panting a little when I get there but feeling glad I made the climb. By some stroke of luck, I get there just in time to enjoy the sunrise, relishing how it spreads a warm glow over the town’s roofs, turrets, and gables. The dawn promises it will be beautiful today, with a sky clear and blue, a welcome gift after the stormy gloom of yesterday. The morning rays are a balm—somewhat—to my nervous, restless mind.

It isn’t long before my thoughts shove past my sorry attempt to be present in this beautiful winter morning.

He’s here. They’re here.

Up on the hilltop, alone, I can look back on yesterday evening with some small sliver of distance. With no one else around, just me and my memories and my thoughts, I can clasp onto the strange, wiggly feeling that kept me up all night.

Astonishment I felt, yes, but that isn’t what had me tossing and turning.

Terror—that too, but again, it is not terror I’ve captured up here where no one else can see what is surely plain on my face.

No, it’s something else entirely—remarkable, unfamiliar, unbearable, and freakish, let loose after a year of being heaped in a corner gathering dust.

Happiness.

Joy.

They’re here—he’s here—and he’s all right.

He is safe and alive.

I feel a tug on that thread, beckoning me to follow that feeling, coaxing me, telling me to caress that gossamer string so it can show me what thoughts await me at the other end. I do not obey. I’m not ready to face down those thoughts, those feelings.

I don’t think I am, anyway.

Am I?

How long I stand in the snow, it’s difficult to tell, but when my toes begin to go numb, I know it’s time to get moving again. A little regretfully, I say goodbye to the glistening sun that bounces off the town below, then make my way down the hillside again.

I wind my way through the woods, walking slowly and humming Celeste’s song in a feeble attempt to occupy my mind. The closer I get to town, however, the louder my worries grow. What if Will and the others are still there? What if they’re staying at Stella’s inn—my inn? What if the next time we cross paths, I can’t get away from them? What will I say if that happens? Do I want that to happen?

Do I want to see him face to face?

I don’t.

I do.

Would he want to see me?

I…

So deafening are the worries in my head that I notice too late that there are footsteps behind me, crunching through the snow.

Growing faster. Heading right toward me.

Someone’s chasing me.

For a moment, I’m frozen with fear.

Fuck this. I’ve been here before. I have been frightened and helpless. Powerless against stronger arms held against me—my father, that man in the alley, Hatchett, Michaelson. I have been powerless against the fucking world, but I will not be again.

I am not the same girl from that alley, nor the girl I was a year ago.

I spin and leap for my attacker before he can get his hands on me, the element of surprise acting as my other weapon as I sweep my foot against his legs and knock him to the goddamn ground, my blade pressed against his throat.

“If you fucking lay a finger on me, you fucking pervert—”

“Whoa,” Will Wardrew says, his eyes wide. He has the gall to look impressed instead of scared, even though he’s the one flat on the ground with a knife at his neck. “Hey, Bree. Where in hell did you learn to do that?”

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Next time on The Prince of Thieves:

Tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @gala1981, @kixngiggles, @whither-wander-whump 💕

[franciskirkland-deleted]

LietPol Headcanons

yay!!! love them <3

so in the early fandom days i used to read a lot of lietpol and write a bit of it, this time around i haven't given it much thought but it's such a good ship and deserves more attention imho. i consider them an old married couple much like england and france.

the femdom ship of all time (i don't have a solid gender headcanon for poland but he seems so bigender to me... like my babygirl. or maybe he's non binary or just a flamboyant femboy. anyway.)

you know the 4 pm dick flattening meme? yeah that's them.

"he asked for no pickles" but liet is already eating the sandwich made incorrectly bc he doesn't really give a fuck. acceptable sandwich.

they're probably toxic in a way that looks really fun and cute externally. there is no way feliks isn't some flavor of crazy. but its ok he's so quirky about it!!! he likes pretending he's harley quinn or some shit. he's such a messy bitch and never grew out of it. he calls tolys daddy despite keeping the man's balls in a ziplock bag in his knockoff louis vuitton.

as far as tolys he's a very multifacted character but i can't see him as like this badass that he's apparently portrayed as in recent fandom.

he's socially awkward and neurotic and tired of everyone and poland is his biggest migraine but that bussy game is ridiculous and he gets off on being treated poorly. he keeps repeating happy wife happy life like some sort of mantra while completely losing his shit. i don't think he's actually like a pathetic wet noodle i do think he could be kind of a simp but it's inadvertent he's just trying to appease feliks because that satisfied lil smirk and evil gay laugh is what he lives for.

but it's not all that, they do have their sappy romantic moments, are emotionally vulnerable with one another, and have a lot of fun together. i see them playing jokes on each other a lot, watching movies together and snuggling, finding new hobbies that they can do as a couple like cooking or completing 'challenges' like. '30 autumn date ideas' or watching films off a list. and shopping together!!!

i see feliks putting in a lot of effort to cheer tolys up when he's down and if he ever does actually hurt his self esteem he's quick to apologize, reassure him, and make it up to him however he wants. i feel like tolys isn't a super romantic guy in general, at least he has trouble displaying it, but he's always in awe of how he managed to land such a cutie and doesn't let feliks forget that he's appreciated.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Douglas Murray

Published: Jul 15, 2023

Twenty years ago there was a famous marketing campaign featuring a jolly banker named “Howard” dancing and singing about the allegedly great advantages of being with the Halifax building society. Last month the Halifax hit the news for a less happy marketing gimmick. Customers were no longer being invited to answer the question, “Who gives you extra?” Nor was there any other question or invitation. Just an assertion, “Pronouns matter”, followed by the hashtag “It’s a people thing”. Below was a photograph of a name badge of a Halifax staff member called “Gemma” with pronouns listed below. In this case “She/ her/ hers”.

A number of customers responded swiftly to the message. As they pointed out, there is no ambiguity about the name “Gemma”. Gemma is a woman’s name, so adding pronouns to Gemma’s badge was, as one customer said, “pathetic virtue-signalling” by a company hoping to hitch on to the end of the tedious Pride-month bandwagon.

But it was what happened next that was most interesting. Amid criticism from customers, a representative of the Halifax social media team called Andy M said: “We strive for inclusion, equality and quite simply, in doing what’s right. If you disagree with our values, you’re welcome to close your account.”

If the furious responses to this retort are anything to go by then hundreds of Halifax customers have indeed chosen to take their accounts elsewhere. Andy M’s intervention has been described by a number of market-watchers as Halifax’s Gerald Ratner moment.

If it was only Halifax behaving this way, perhaps that might be believable: a single company going off-piste thanks to an inexperienced junior marketing person with plenty of views and little judgment. But what is remarkable about the Halifax case is that it is nothing new.

Indeed the moment there was some customer pushback, another bank — HSBC — decided to speak out in solidarity with Halifax. Retweeting their competitor’s original message, HSBC said: “We stand with and support any bank or organisation that joins us in taking this positive step forward for equality and inclusion. It’s vital that everyone can be themselves in the workplace.”

Of course there was no evidence that “Gemma” was having any trouble being herself in the workplace. But for HSBC the whole contorted issue of pronoun usage (a core tenet of the new trans faith) appeared an important hill to stand on. They are not alone. In recent years nearly every high street bank has made similar statements of politically dogmatic intent. Five years ago Barclays bank celebrated Pride month by decking their branches in the rainbow flag and promoting the advertising line “Love happens here”. As I remarked at the time, it was a strange claim for a bank to make. After all, most of us do not want either sex or love to happen at our bank. We just want there to be an adequate number of staff manning the place and not to be overcharged when we lose our back statements.

Even the Queen’s bank, Coutts, has got in on the act. Last autumn the bank’s headquarters on the Strand in London was bedecked with an image of the footballer Marcus Rashford. An accompanying laudatory blurb on the building front talked of how Rashford was a “shining example” and “political activist” who “leads the way in celebrating and championing difference”. That is as it may be. But what does it have to do with Coutts?

Four years ago I wrote a book called The Madness of Crowds: Gender, Race and Identity about the intrusion of woke identity politics into every facet of our lives. Increasingly, you could not avoid it anywhere. Not even eating. Marks & Spencer started producing an LGBT sandwich (lettuce, guacamole, bacon and tomato), as though sexual preferences are a suitable basis for sandwich fillings.

Back then I tried to describe the nature of the new quasi-religious movement being forced on our societies. Specifically, the intense doubling down on the significance of sex, race and sexuality just when most of us had hoped to have got past the stage of obsessing about these things. There were plenty of reasons why this change had come about. But it required another writer to fill in one of the last remaining pieces of the jigsaw.

Because in the four years that have followed, it has become clear that the movement known as “woke” is not just a grassroots movement. It is a grassroots movement that has gone so far so very fast because it is gigantically fuelled by old-school capital. This is what the entrepreneur Vivek Ramaswamy described in a superb book published last year as Woke, Inc.

Ramaswamy filled in the blanks that had not previously been able to be filled. Why were “social justice” campaigns no longer about campaigns on the street, protest marches and much more, but about top-down lecturings by highly privileged individuals and corporations? Why had it become the case that we were being urged to “do better” not just by certain princes and duchesses, but by major companies and brands who would once have just taken our money and run? Why were firms like Goldman Sachs and Blackrock boasting about their commitment to such things as “racial equity and social justice”?

The answer starts with the way in which energy companies began to rebrand themselves in recent decades. From the early part of this century oil companies like Shell and BP went out of their way to present their public image as being one of unbelievable green-ness. As it happens, both companies, like most other energy companies, are trying to diversify their energy bases and are hardly any longer reliant solely on the pumping of oil. But even when they were, they presented themselves as though they positively existed to make the world greener and to ensure each field was filled with flowers.

And this in many ways explains the far grander and more comprehensive examples of something similar that is happening today.

What we now know as “woke” is a legacy product of legitimate and indeed venerable human rights campaigns. The campaigns for women’s rights, gay rights and racial minority rights were just and noble enterprises which ended up achieving the overwhelming majority, if not all, of their aims.

[ Shell, the oil company, presents a public image of great greenness ]

But at the point of victory something strange happened. People remained on the barricades long after the battle had been won. Partly because careers and pensions were at stake. But also because a new generation of activists wanted to experience the moral high of fighting for rights which had been honourably fought for before their time. So it was that legacy rights organisations like Stonewall ended up fulfilling the dictum of Eric Hoffer. Which is that every good cause “begins as a movement, becomes a business, and eventually degenerates into a racket”.

When Stonewall started out it was an important movement which did a great deal to improve the lot of gay people in this country. But by the time the fight was essentially won, with the passing of civil partnerships and gay marriage, Stonewall stopped being a good cause. For a brief time it became a business. But it swiftly degenerated into a racket. For the point of victory was of course the exact moment when everybody wanted to be on board. After the battle was won, who didn’t want a piece of the civil rights action? The big banks and corporations may have been nowhere when people were fighting for their rights in the 20th century. But in the 21st century, at the point of victory, everyone wanted a piece of the action. And some were willing to sell it.

As this newspaper has reported, in recent years Stonewall started raking in money from government departments and vast corporations. It came up with the brilliant idea of a “UK Workplace Equality Index”. Through this process Stonewall got paid by companies to approve them and mark their “social justice” and “diversity” homework. Of course the charity used this not just as a money-making scheme but as a way to push their agendas, which in the mid-2010s moved from concentrating on gay rights to trans rights.

As The Times reported last June, documents show that Stonewall used its equality index to force organisations to lobby for their policies. If a company, NHS trust, government department or local council did not lobby aggressively for what Stonewall wanted then the group would mark them down, or drop them off its “Top 100” employers index. Even firms that had bent over backwards to placate Stonewall would find themselves told they had room for improvement. For a healthy further donation of course.

It is quite obvious how this benefited Stonewall. They became richer and more powerful than they had ever been. And now the boot was on the other foot they used it to kick around companies and governments and get whatever they wanted while being exceptionally well paid for doing so.

But what did the companies get out of it? And there lies the answer to much of the corporate wokery of our time. Because it is clear by now that the relationship between woke lobby groups and the corporate world has become symbiotic. One side gets rich. The other gets a camouflage, or wokescreen.

Suddenly companies that certainly do not prioritise radical left-wing causes can present themselves as though they are on top of — even ahead of — all the social issues of their time. In the process they can do a number of things. One is to ask the angel of social media death to pass by their door. If they paint themselves with enough rainbow flags and diversity policies then they can evade notice.

For the benefits for Woke Inc are very great indeed. Even the negative publicity that may come from woke over-reach cannot even slightly approximate the negative attention that corporations might otherwise run into. For instance when the Halifax was in the news for its new pronouns policy, it was almost certainly banking that a sizeable number of people — perhaps especially younger potential clients — would be impressed by their “forward-looking” and inclusive policies. What people will not be focusing on is the fact that Halifax has become yet another one of the high street banks that has decided to retire from the high street.

In recent years the Halifax has continuously closed branches. It is a high street bank that has abandoned the high street. This year alone Halifax has closed 27 branches across the country. In other words, while it witters on about the pronouns of an employee called “Gemma” and people become agitated about either this being a great leap forward for humanity or that Gemma could hardly be anything other than a woman, they fail to notice their chances of ever having any interactions with Gemma or any other physical, actual employee of the Halifax. In reality you won’t need Gemma’s pronouns because a Halifax customer’s chances of ever encountering a Gemma diminish every week.

Other things that end up getting covered over include the Halifax’s simple poor performance as a bank. For example, its appalling mortgage rates. While the internet was tearing into the Gemma issue, you had to search the financial pages to discover that at the same time the Halifax had once again hiked its mortgage rates, with the lender’s 60 per cent LTV remortgage rate rising by almost 300 per cent in a year. Gemma may be better news fodder, but she actually covers over the real stories.

It is the same with corporation after corporation. What did HSBC think it was doing when it joined its rival in planting the pronoun flag as the most important issue of the moment? It doubtless thought it would get good publicity and public acclaim from tweeting about how much it stood for “equality and inclusion” and everyone being able to “be themselves in the workplace”. But these words are cheap. Just as it is comparatively cheap to bung some thousands of pounds each year to Stonewall or cover your branches in rainbow flags for a month, compared to the criticisms you might actually be having to face. Woke is camouflage for these firms.

The reality with HSBC, for instance, is that it has proven itself not just uninterested in equality and inclusion, but brutally, cynically, money-grubbingly uninterested in them. In 2020 when the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) effectively fully subsumed Hong Kong into the communist state, there was a range of options open to individuals and corporations. They could either agree to the new regime, stay silent or leave. That year the CCP brought in new security laws which included making it illegal to criticise in any way the activities of the communist authorities, undermine their power or permit foreign interference in Hong Kong. HSBC could have left and gone to Singapore. It could have made a stand. It could have stayed silent. It did none of these things. HSBC backed the security laws. Because it prioritised access to the Chinese market over human rights. As clearly as anyone could.

When HSBC talks about pronouns, it hopes we won’t know about its complicity with the CCP. In corporation after corporation the same cynical game is played. Four years ago Nike started to run adverts featuring the black NFL player Colin Kaepernick, most famous for taking the knee during the playing of the American national anthem. Through this and other campaigns Nike likes to present itself as wildly on the right side on all racial and other justice issues. It should have come as no surprise two years later when reports revealed that parts of Nike’s products were being made in China’s forced labour camps by Uighur prisoners. The same revelations came out for Apple in due course.

It doesn’t matter where you turn, the cynicism of Woke Inc hits you every time. There is not a political issue that the fattening ice cream Ben & Jerry’s does not try to speak on. Why ice cream should speak in the first place is a question we might park for another day. But among much else, Ben & Jerry’s have in recent years expressed their views on Jewish settlements in the West Bank and Priti Patel’s proposed reforms on illegal migration across the Channel. All of which may well distract from the fact that Ben & Jerry’s parent company, Unilever, has been accused of underpaying £550 million in tax in the UK. Or that the parent company of this oh-so-woke entity still sells skin-lightening creams across Asia.

There was a time when people assumed that corporations were going woke because they wanted to get with the times. As Ramaswamy and others have now shown, nothing could be further from the truth. Corporations go woke because they know it is the best way to get away with worse and more expensive habits. So I would suggest that this should become a new rule in our society. As obvious as the fact that the most outspoken male feminists reliably turn out to be sex pests.

There was a time when people thought Woke Inc was well-meaning at best, naive at worst. But as the saga of Gemma reminds us, when a company advertises its woke credentials, we should assume it is trying to hide something. And then go looking for it.

[ Via: https://archive.is/ziEDT ]

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when a company advertises its woke credentials, we should assume it is trying to hide something. And then go looking for it.

Repeated for emphasis.

Stop getting taken in by this virtue bullshit.