#he would have been so sulky if I hadn't done it

[shatcey]

Victor theories. Contradictions and links

This is probably the last part of my theories about Vivi before his route came out. Most likely, they have nothing to do with reality, which we will see pretty soon. I will kill someone if Cybird release someone from Vogel first. Do you hear that, Cybird? I'll buy tamagotchi and kill it!!!!! You don't want that, do you? Poor defenseless little creature…

When I read other theories and events about Vivi, I had some thoughts, but I haven't finished them, haven't put them together, and… I think it's finally time to do it properly.

I should probably add warnings. I'm mentioning the details of Alfons and Harrison's routes. And also provide fragments of events that had not yet been in the EN game (only in JP). And… a bit about Azel's route (but I'm warning you about this, and you can easily skip to the next part without reading).

There were many events with Vivi. I made a list when started preparing for this post… Not all of them contain anything that I can use within the described boundaries, but they all provide few or many hints. So… it took some time to check. I hope I didn't miss anything.

If so… remind me, and I'll make one more "last post"… it becomes an endless story.

His personality

@maladaptivedaydreamsx assumed that Victor isn't his real name, but was given to him because of Queen. I thought about that as well. As I mentioned here, Victor thinks of himself in quotation marks, as if it's not his real name, but a role he's playing. And that actually sounds pretty fitting. On the surface, he's a cheerful and positive, with a sweet, mama-type vibe. But when we read the stories from his perspective, he feels completely different. Very dark and even scary. His thoughts show how much he notices and thinks before making any decisions, how much of a calculating bastard he really is (lovingly). But is his cheerful side a role he's playing? Or is it just part of his personality? From the Bond story "The Other Side"

and kiss event...

Victor insists that this is just a part of him. And I'm inclined to believe.

There is a theory that Victor is actually immortal. @.reccyls mentioned this here last time. And this theory is possible. Not only because Victor is so determined to treat all the members of Crown and Kate like children. But also because of this Willy's remark from the 1st Victor's birthday

There are two possibilities that Willy could be hinting at.

The first… Vivi is a god. The God of death.

But… this may have a different meaning. Vivi is very closed to God or any other immortal being. Vivi often talks about death as a living creature. Perhaps the fact that he is a "constant companion of death" makes him a kind of expert in this matter.

And that's why I tend to think that the second option is closer to the truth. It's from the very beginning of the same 1st birthday.

Yes, Harry often says that Victor lies a lot, but I don't think that applies to this situation. The wording is very strange. He doesn't seem happy about this fact. Like… "I wish I had more time". Maybe it's just me.

Oh, I forgot about another option. Vivi could have been a god, but now he's a human. This explains why he's so annoyed by the fact that he needs to sleep. Hmmm… I like that option.

If assumed he's a very old and powerful being… who, despite this, has not lost interest in life as such and can still find joy in it (reminds of someone, right?). How did the Queen manage to get him as her aid? A contract? We have another Black butler?

And if everyone thinks of him as a very strong person, then no one will ever assume that he needs anything. No one ever considers him human. This thought crossed my mind when I talked about the Mirror event, but I decided not to voice it. But… what the hell… this is the last post, where else should I talk about it?

It was the same with Azel (if you haven't read his route and don't want spoilers, skip right to the next point). People didn't see him as a human being, they only asked for help, advice, and so on… In their eyes, he was only giving, after all, he is God. But… this is a rather selfish way of thinking. Even if a person seems completely independent and strong, and… perfect… this doesn't mean that he has nothing to wish. I can easily imagine Vivi in this concept. And that explains why he was so surprised when Kate said she liked helping him or taking care of him. This has never happened before.

But he doesn't have to be an immortal being for people to consider him inhuman. He succeeds in everything he does, and people may think that he doesn't need anyone's help.

His contradictions

Kate described him very accurately at a Drunk event, translated by @.reccyls.

I would also add that he takes care of the garden and himself (see how his hair is… it's a lot of work, you know) and it looks like he's sleeping normally. My baby Ally has dark circles under her eyes due to lack of sleep. But Vivi… there is no such thing. So… Yes, he really seems like the perfect person.

But behind every great accomplishment is a lot of hard work. We don't know what it is… he just has a habit of using every second of his life to the fullest, or… a kind of magic. But he really does a lot, and… I can understand why he wants to… relax sometimes. He can't admit it for some reason (pride or some restrictions) but he wants to anyway. And at the same Drunken event, he tricked Kate into putting his head in her lap and hugging her. As if he needed a reason for that. It feels like he's constantly preventing himself from doing what he wants to do. At the very end of Butler's event ("Your Hand, My Lady" translated by @.reccyls) Willy hints at this...

He's happy because Victor is FINALLY doing what he wants to do.

I got the impression that curse of the boys is a sick joke of fate. It is contrary to their true nature. Like a absolutely honest and straightforward Harrison have to lie because his curse forces him to do so. Or Ally, who wanted only one thing in life... to be remembered, and the curse did not allow him to got this. So I see the same contradiction in Victor's behavior… is his curse. He is literally obsessed with the idea of freedom. And the way he lives makes it seem like he's not free at all. And his desire to get something for himself sometimes is like getting some fresh air before he finds himself back in the dusty tunnels… He literally doesn't do ANYTHING for himself, he doesn't even ask others for anything. This is from the 2nd Cristmas event, translated by @.reccyls.

And this is from bond's story "About Freedom"

Despite the fact, he joked afterwards that he is as free as the wind. In this phrase, he said "I", not "you" or "people" in general. I'm sorry, Vivi, but I don't believe you're free. In fact, you've probably never been. That's why you dream about it. And it's a little sad.

Connections with the Queen

The bond between Vivi and the Queen is very strong and mysterious. He is absolutely devoted to her and literally does everything she says. But how long has he been doing this? Why does he feel like he belongs to her? As he told William at the very end of Butler event ("Your Hand, My Lady" translated by @.reccyls.

The first thing that comes to mind is the Black Butler. Sebas demonstrates absolute dedication without asking questions. And he is a demon who is devoted to man. Actually Vivi said at the first Christmas event (Wreck the halls) that he had made a deal with death…

Perhaps it has something to do with the Queen. I'm not saying that the Queen is the Death (we never know for sure), but the way he's devoted to her, and the way he convinced that the connection with death is not so easy to break, seems somehow similar. Indestructible.

@.velisle has posted a really huge post with facts and theories about Vivi… I added my thoughts here. There was a theory… That's the kid Victor talked about at the Secrets event…

...In fact, he is.

But there are two things that prevent me from thinking that way. The first… he doesn't know if the Queen could make them smiles. If he was that kid, he would know that.

And the second. If we assume that he is not a vampire or another magical creature that lives exceptionally long (or endless), then it is quite difficult to imagine. The calculation is simple. The game takes place around 1890. And the queen begins to rule in 1837. More than 50 years have passed since. And Victor looks like he's 40 at the most. So… He's NOT that kid, but… it could have been his parent or… an older sibling. Or… even someone related to Kate. I wouldn't be surprised if the developers link them so tightly.

@rou-luxe assumed that Victor made a promise to the Queen many years ago and continue fulfill it. It seems very correct, but at the same time not quite. No matter how much you like sticking to your promise, at some point you will feel tired or pressured to keep it. But here… he does it willingly, even with joy. So my idea… he is very grateful to the Queen. As if she had saved his life or given him a new life that he wouldn't have been able to get otherwise. This brings me back to my previous thought. That the Queen is not really human. But she is… at least the real Queen Victoria, who lived and died (which makes her a normal person). If it's just gratitude, then what exactly did she do for him to get him for a lifetime? This is… THE question!

Connections with Crown boys

We know that Vivi and Willy immediately clicked on the common desire to free people. The way we were shown Vivi's cursed ability (as I mentioned in a previous theory post) is somewhat similar to Willy's. I'll just add this part from the 1st birthday story.

We will not talk about that this is technically impossible to strangle yourself. Don't try to prove me wrong, check on Google.

The fact remains… Vivi orders the man to die or Death to take him away. But for some reason, his victim feels happy to follow this order.

It doesn't matter how, but the cursed ability of both of them (Victor and William) deprive a person of freedom. So… no wonder they understand each other so well, they literally went through the same struggles.

I don't think Vivi is particularly kind to Harry just because of his reaction (which is always so good). But also because he feels a little guilty about the death of Harry's father. He did not predict, did not find out, did not fix the problem in time. Yes, Vivi claims that he is not a kind, but rather an evil person, but he is a good teammate, he respects and helps all his partners. And he and Marco had a good team… From a distance, completely ignoring each other… but in the end, they really help each other a lot. So Vivi may feel guilty for missing something.

I didn't notice any special treatment for anyone else at the Crown. Well… Kate is an exception. But I would like to talk about her separately.

Connections with Kate

First the facts. Victor dragged Kate to the Crown because he thought it would help the boys. From his 1st birthday.

He said (will say) the same thing in the 1st anniversary (my summary). He thought she would change something. What does he think needs to be changed? He used a rather interesting phrase in 1st birthday...

Usually, when he said something like that, it's "succumb to your wickedness". Vivi often say that when he sends the boys to work. Did he assume that Kate would help them become better at their work? Is it related to work at all? Maybe about their course? Maybe it's about understanding themselves better? Or… about something completely different? But I tend to think he was looking for a way to combine them together.

They're all pretty strong and independent, they don't have much in common, they literally split into several groups, and he wanted to find a reason to unite them into one team. It's a very noble cause. He would probably reject such an idea as not fitting his wicked nature. Why do my favorite boys try to argue with me when I say good things about them? They're so weird.

But there's something he doesn't want her to know. Again from the 1st birthday...

It feels like he's afraid. It feels like he's been through something and doesn't want to make the same mistake again. Or he's constantly fighting… probably with his own curse… which forces him to do something to her (remember that his curse contradicts his essence). Vivi says something about it at the 1st Christmas event. This darkness demands that he stains her and whisks her away (I wrote about it here).

But his expectations of Kate really came true. She really brought change. And she even changed him. This is from his 2nd birthday story translated by @.reccyls.

It already looks like we're in the middle of his route. He feels that he is becoming less like an observer, he feels that he wants more for himself.

And now my assumptions, which, in fact, are based on nothing at all

The only thing we can be sure about is a kiss on the forehead. It was mentioned twice (I talked about it at the kiss event). The fact that Kate mentioned it twice means that developers are most likely to use it on one of the main routes. It could be Darius or someone we don't know about yet, but I think… that it's Victor. And it's not just his reaction to that kiss that makes me think so. But the DARK IF event.

I know it's an alternate world, but… the essence of the characters is the same, and it's quite interesting to imagine his main route through the prism of this event. Vivi's story hasn't been released yet, but in the second part of the event, there was a story for 95k points, and it's gorgeous. Translated by @.reccyls.

And this part is from a letter from this event. Not quite, but let's put it this way. Translated by @.reccyls.

The one and only. The soulmates. Actually, this theme is very strong at this event, and maybe I shouldn't even focus on it. But… for some reason, this concept seems very fitting for Vivi. The Vivi we know from Victorian London. And I really like to see this theme on at least one route in this game. Why not on Victor's, right?

So… my theory… Victor and Kate met when Kate was still a child. We haven't determined whether Victor is human or not, so I won't talk about him, but Kate was a child and witnessed something very bad. Something that could easily break the psyche for life. Victor solved the problem and kissed her on the forehead… and that's literally the only thing she remembers. It was probably just a short meeting, but for some reason they both remembered it. And now… after all these years, they meet again because they are destined to be together… I got goosebumps.

I think we should expect a second Tamamo route. With the "I want to be your friend so you won't be alone". They will work together, but this time she will help him with his work, and someone from his past will appear. Don't tell me he was a king as well… Thatever. And… so the hot scene will only be after the last avatar challenge (or even only in the epilogues).

Dark times are ahead... Patience to all of us.

@ethereal-blossom, Michelle, dear, I haven't found how to use your theories… my brain is burning up a bit after two days of thinking. But I'd like you to look at it. Maybe you could point out my mistakes or would like to add something. You know I'm always happy to read your thoughts.

The design of the spikelet on the dividers I took from Designed by Freepik

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🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸���𝔼 🔝

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[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL pt.2— lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: it took lando too long to realise it wasn't just 'casual'. warnings: a LOT of angst, toxic relationship, sexual implication, not proofread a/n: casual part 2 was not really a part of the plan but the audience had demands 🦧also i think this was too long lmao. AND IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY OMG

part 1 - casual

miami grand prix: the biggest pr nightmare for every driver—especially lando norris.

the media had been all over him that weekend, going to the lengths of literally calling him 'the hottest catch on the single market'. hollywood stars and instagram models were so desperate to marry him and have his kids that they didn't catch on the fact that he was a 23-year-old racing driver who couldn't give a fuck about them.

because he was stuck on you.

for weeks, he'd waited—hoping you’d reach out, or at the very least, watch his instagram stories. he posted shirtless photos, sun-kissed photos—hell, he even threw out a thirst trap just for you. But you didn’t take the bait. you didn't take the fucking bait.

you hadn't texted him or spoken to him since the moment you walked out of that hotel room weeks ago, so he didn't try to reach out either. "would've been a blow to my ego," he'd told sainz.

but now, he didn't give a shit about his ego. he was tired of waiting.

his eyes darted across the packed club, friends and guests scattered all around. he couldn't wait to get out of there.

he hadn't been drinking. didn't really feel like it. truth be told, he hadn’t been feeling much of anything at all.

pool parties, clubs, yachts, champagne and girls.

he was tired of the glitz and glam of his life, and you were the only escape from it.

but you were gone.

his mind wandered to that morning, when you had kissed him and the two of you had ordered room service. when he had held you for the last time.

he hated how the only thing on his mind was you. how it was the only thing on his mind all through the celebrations, as hookers danced around him and people tried to pour drinks into his mouth.

for fuck's sake, he had won a grand prix for the first time in his life, and yet he was unhappy.

how did he get here?

he looked up, eyes falling on a group of men in the VIP section, the lights illuminating their faces.

everyone could tell something was off with lando. he didn't want to do any of this.

all he wanted was you. you, you, you.

the girl who had left without an explanation.

why had you left, anyway? no calls, no texts. your friends avoided him, and you avoided his friends. it was like the two of you were nothing.

lando norris was many things, but he was not a fool. he could recognise when something was wrong, or when a situation had escalated beyond his control.

he knew that there was a reason why you left, but the reason never clicked in that thick brain of his. what had he done wrong? where had he gone wrong?

"i'm not feeling too well, mate." he muttered, handing the beer bottle back to the guy standing next to him.

okay, maybe not admitting his feelings for you had fucked things up. but, what could you expect? he didn't have the time to give you what you deserved.

not right now, at least.

"what are you waiting for, then?" the other man asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"what?"

"just call her, bro. i know it's about a girl because there's no way any sane man would say no to expensive beers and a million hot hookers."

did lando even know this man? probably not.

"i can't call her. she doesn't want to talk to me. trust me, i've tried."

"have you?"

he didn't know how to deal with rejection. not like this, not with you. you weren't supposed to leave.

"judging by your sulkiness, i doubt you're going to find a girl like her again. and you'll never have her if you're here."

lando didn't have a heart of stone, as much as his social media persona might suggest. he didn't care for any of this. the women, the money, the fame.

he wanted to hold you again. kiss you, tell you he loves you. he wanted to hold your hand. he wanted to be near you, and only you.

so, when his feet hit the floor and he found himself walking towards the exit, he wasn't surprised.

yeah, it was foolish of him to leave a party full of women who were celebrating him (literally) for a girl who had ghosted him, but the need was stronger than his pride.

out of the yacht, he was dialling the only number he'd ever memorised. the phone rang, and then it rang again.

would she be wearing his clothes, or would she have gotten rid of everything related to him?

maybe she'd found another man, finally realising that lando was a bad investment.

as the phone rang, you were hidden in your apartment with blankets wrapped around you and a youtube video playing in the background.

it had been months since you'd heard the word 'casual' leave his mouth. months since you had fled london and monaco to move to miami.

at first, his words had echoed in your mind constantly, and you'd cried yourself to sleep a few times more than you'd like to admit.

but just like every heartbroken poet in history, the hurt faded and the pain slowly morphed into hatred. and anger.

you wanted to slam your head against a wall. scratch that, you wanted to slam his head against a wall.

it was so stupid, and you hated yourself for believing he'd been genuine.

it was just sex. that's all it ever was. it truly was just casual.

the phone was still ringing. your finger hesitated over the answer button. you weren't going to answer it.

it wasn't worth it. you didn't want to hear his voice. didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that his words had hurt you. you didn't want to know if he was sleeping around, if his girlfriends were prettier than you.

so the line went dead.

lando stood by the harbour, watching as yachts and ships sailed past him. the air was humid and his t-shirt clung to his body, the heat almost unbearable. the sound of waves, the distant laughter and music, and the sound of his ragged breaths.

he ran his fingers through his hair, looking around. where was his car?

he had to find his way back to his hotel. he was a mess, and his clothes were sticking to his skin. he needed to fix his appearance, buy a bouquet a flowers.

he checked the time on his watch, and cursed as he saw the numbers. it was almost 3 am. he wouldn't find flowers anywhere at 3 am.

"fuck it." he said, running over to his car. the drive was quiet, save for the low hum of music and his occasional swearing when someone drove a little bit slower than he'd like.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really. but he only wanted you. he was a hopeless romantic, and you were his muse.

when he pulled up outside the apartment, his nerves were going haywire. he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

he knocked twice on the door and when it opened, his eyes lit up.

you stared back at him, sleepiness in your eyes and confusion etched on your face.

and god, did you look gorgeous.

he loved you, he realised. he had to cross his hands behind his back to stop them from reaching out and holding you close.

"lando?" you breathed out.

he had grown a slight stubble since you last saw him. his hair were still the same, except a little bit longer. his blue eyes were wide as he looked at you.

"hey," his voice was shaky.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

he wanted to say so many things. ask you why you left, where it went wrong, why you moved to miami. he wanted to declare his love for you, press his lips to yours, hold you by the waist. he wanted to hear you say that you loved him too.

he was so in love with you, and you had no idea.

"lando? why are you here?" you asked again.

he was at a loss of words. what could he say? he couldn't exactly just stand there and say nothing.

"because," his voice cracked, "i miss you."

your throat went dry. he could not just say that.

it had been weeks. weeks of him not contacting you, weeks of you not speaking to him. the phone calls had stopped, the text messages had stopped, the late night chats had stopped. everything was just gone.

and now, he missed you?

tears welled up in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. you shook your head, pushing back the tears, "go away."

"what? no, wait. wait. don't do this." he pleaded, his voice fragile and desperate, like a child trying to avoid bedtime.

"lando-"

he interrupted you, voice louder than before. "can we please talk about this?"

"what is there to talk about?" you were raising your voice. you hated him. how could he act like this after all that happened?

"everything. just—please, can i come in?" he sounded so pathetic. he felt so pathetic. his hands were slightly hovering over the door, ready to push it open and walk in.

the request took you by surprise. "i-no."

you missed him. there was no denying that.

you wanted him to tell you it was okay. wanted to go back to that night in his mclaren, the night he told you he liked you. wanted the weekends spent in london with his family. you wanted him, all of him.

his curly hair wrapped around your fingers, blue eyes staring at you, soft lips kissing you. his cold hands grabbing yours, and his voice saying your name. you wanted it to not be casual.

"i just want to talk to you."

he was drunk. there was no other way he would've showed up here, let alone begged to talk to you. the fact that he needed to be drunk to have this conversation made your blood boil.

"do you still have my jacket?"

of course, you still had his stupid jacket. the one that had his smell embedded into the fabric. it was an exclusive print mclaren had given him, and he had swung it around your shoulders after the night you had first made love to each other.

but he didn't care about the jacket, and neither did you. it was just a reminder.

you were silent for a while, taking in the sight of each other. it was his breath mingling with yours.

"i love you." he whispered.

your breath hitched in your throat, the tears finally falling out of your eyes as you sighed.

"i love you," he repeated to himself. "yes, i do. and i've known that since the day i met you."

you choked back sobs as you shook your head, "you're drunk, lando."

"i'm not," he chuckled, "maybe a little, but not enough."

then, he added, "i mean it. i love you." his voice was steady. he truly meant every word. but he didn't know what would happen now.

"what do you want me to say, lando?"

he sighed, "anything."

you laughed bitterly. anything, he said.

anything would've been better than what had happened.

"i don't think i can do this, lando."

"we can take it slow."

"you've never done slow."

he fell silent again because you were right. he'd never done slow. he didn't know how to take things slow. he was a fucking formula 1 driver, after all. slow wasn't something he did. he'd always lived life like it was the last day. and that's how he had lost you.

"i'm sorry," he began, his voice breaking. "i should've been a better person. i'm sorry for everything i did. i should've given you more, i-i should've loved you more, because you deserve so much more. i'm so, so, sorry."

"lando," you whispered, "it's not—"

"don't make excuses for me, please. i love you, i really do. and if i have to spend the rest of my life proving that, i will." and he meant every word. "i just want you back."

your mind was racing, a million thoughts running through it. it was like a movie. his blue eyes, his voice, the desperation in his tone, the way he stood before you.

"okay," you muttered.

"wait, okay? does that mean—"

"you're gonna have to work for this," you said.

"i know, and i will. i promise."

you sighed, rubbing your temple. this wasn't a good idea. "get in."

lando's face lit up, and before you could change your mind, he had walked into the apartment. he hadn't really been here before, considering you moved here after the two of you had stopped talking. but the apartment was lovely, homely. everything you.

you closed the door behind him, watching him look around the living room.

"how'd you know where i live?"

he chuckled, turning to face you. "i'm a famous driver. i have my sources."

"i'm sure." a tense silence followed, neither of you knowing what to say.

"i'm not letting this happen again," he blurted, "i'm not. i don't know how, but i won't."

"i don't believe you." you scoffed.

"fuck, baby, what do i have to do for you to believe me?" he stepped towards you, closing the distance.

"stop calling me that."

"you are my baby." he tried to joke.

"lando, i'm not joking."

"i'm serious too," his voice was sincere, "i love you, and i'll do whatever it takes for you to believe me."

you had been through a lot together. the highs, the lows. you had seen him at his best, and at his worst. the good and the bad.

he moved closer, reaching a hand out to hold yours. you didn't know why, but the moment his hand touched yours, it was like a switch had flipped inside of you.

you let his hand wander over yours like a ghost, his calloused fingertips tracing over your knuckles. he intertwined your fingers together, eyes casted down.

"i've never cared about anyone the way i care about you." he admitted in a soft voice.

and then he pressed his lips to yours. his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

and god, did he taste the same. lando had a way with his lips. it was a talent. he kissed you like he needed your lips to survive. he was desperate for your touch as if he had been starving without it.

you were so lost in the feeling that you hadn't realised how far you had pushed him until the back of his knees hit the couch, and he fell on top of it.

his eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his chest and toned abs.

the two of you stared at each other, eyes searching the other's.

"i love you." he murmured for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

maybe it was the way his blue eyes bore into yours, or the way his lips quivered, or maybe it was the fact that he had driven across the city to say this.

but for the first time that night, you believed him. and suddenly, the anger was gone. it was all gone.

"i love you, too." you whispered.

it was the only thing the two of you needed. the confirmation, the reassurance. the love.

you leaned down and connected your lips once more, hand reaching up to his curls and tugging lightly. he moaned into the kiss, pulling you on top of him.

your tongue entered his mouth, the taste of him making you lightheaded. his hands roamed over your body, the feeling of his skin against yours.

"baby," he whispered between kisses, "i want you so bad. i've waited so long."

his lips trailed along your jaw and down your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin.

"i want you," he murmured against the crook of your neck, "so fucking bad."

but he pulled away, flipping the two of you over so he was on top of you. he took off his shirt, and rested his head on your chest. he cleared his throat, "i should've asked this question earlier, but are you single?"

"yeah." you chuckled, running a hand through his curls.

"so, can i be your boyfriend?"

"lando norris," you hummed, "did you finally get the guts to ask me out?"

"yes," he smiled, lifting his head up to look at you, "yes, i did. will you be my girlfriend?"

"you're a dork."

"that's not an answer."

"yes," you laughed, "yes, i'll be your girlfriend."

lando grinned, and you grinned back.

yeah, it wasn't casual anymore.

(u guys im so sorry if i've tagged someone who doesnt want to be tagged i just had no idea how to let non-followers know part 2 is out bcs tumblr is not letting me reply to comments😭if anyone wants their tag removed, feel free to dm me!! i hope u liked this) @oscarpiassrri @meglouise00 @f1fantasys @technicallypleasanttree @ggaslyp1 @obxstiles @nataliambc @prudyhoo @idkwtdwml123 @ushygushybaby @emilyroxy @yootvi @fishingarden @pillowprincess4him @herexpertcollector

[moontyun]

TXT: the type of...

Masterlist

𐀔 ...partner 𐀔 requested: no 𐀔 warnings: possibly toxic jealousy(?), silent treatment briefly mentioned 𐀔 genre: fluff, a smidge of angst, comfort

៚ Yeonjun

Jealous whenever someone is closer to you than he is.

That friend you've known for +10 years? Why do they need to know how you like your coffee in the morning?

You had warned him about a month ago about today. You told him you were going to be getting lunch at least one time with a friend of yours who was coming from out of town to see you. You hadn't seen them in a few months and you missed them. You, of course, had invited him to come with you. He, like he does, went along. The whole time he had to be touching you. Your friend was not allowed to touch you at all. They had gone to fix your hair for you and got the evil eye the rest of the time. When you had gotten home, you immediately called your friend and apologized for the way Yeonjun had acted. They accepted and you hung up, "You could have been nicer to them." He shrugged, "They shouldn't have touched you." You rolled your eyes, "You're going to call and apologize. Not a half-assed one. A genuine apology!" It was his turn to roll his eyes, but he did as you asked. After a couple minutes of him being on the phone, he started to bond with your friend and now it was your turn to be a little jealous.

៚ Soobin

Gets sulky when you go any night without him on facetime.

He likes it when you guys fall asleep together, he thinks it's the cutest thing.

Now, the way this ritual had started was completely accidental. He had fallen asleep while talking on the phone with you one night. You thought it would be cute to leave it on while going to sleep. It had felt like he was closer to you. But now, whenever he was away for work, he had to be on facetime with you in order to get to sleep.

"I like seeing your face in the morning!"

"You're on the other side of the world! We don't get up and go to bed at the same time!"

"I don't care! I want to see your cute face in the morning!"

៚ Beomgyu

Will do anything to get your attention on him

Meaning he will get on your very last nerve in order to get the attention he so deserves desires.

He was definitely on something today because he was tailing you around the house, he was yapping your ear off about anything and everything for hours now! Usually, him yapping this much wasn't an issue but today, he was annoying you more than normal. He kept poking and prodding at you. "Can you behave please?" He put up a thoughtful look on his face before shaking his head no. You should have known that was going to be the answer. "I can't, I love you too much to."

៚ Taehyun

Likes to match in subtle ways

Same color socks, matching nail polish, little key chains little things like that.

It's his way of feeling close to you.

You don't match one day and he will not speak to you and you won't get any attention from him until you do.

This morning was a little bit chaotic for you. In running late, you had completely forgotten your pale pink bracelet on the kitchen table. When you had gotten home that night Taehyun looked at you with the side eye of the century. Immediately, you knew what he was upset about. You sighed heavily, taking the bracelet and putting it on before waddling over and throwing yourself on him. "I'm sorry I forgot the bracelet. I was running late this morning and was in a rush." He hummed in response before allowing himself to let you cuddle him, "Don't forget again."

៚ Kai

Abhors it when you are upset in any sort of way.

If you do not tell him why you are upset, he will start to think he's done something to upset you.

He will try to make your terrible day into a better one as best as he possibly can.

Today was a particularly rough day for you. Things were just not going your way. All you had wanted was Kai right now. If he wasn't home you were sure you were going to have a full on break down. You needed that comfort from him right now. As soon as you walked in the door and saw his beamingly beautiful face you rushed over to him, hugging him as tightly as you could. He had known you so long that he knew something was up, "What's wrong?" When you had dumped everything on him, he just listened, no interruptions, no advice, nothing. He just listened. After you had finished, he suggested a cute little night in. He told you, you were to get the princess/prince treatment tonight. You wouldn't have to move a single muscle.

[leupagus]

BRB giving all the Lannisters a way more satisfying story arc than the one the show foisted on them

x

The wedding celebrations for Trystane's brother Quentyn and his new bride Desmera Redwyne lasted for nearly a fortnight, with dancing and feasting and even fireworks set off over the bay at the Water Gardens. Every noble in Dorne (and half the nobles of the Reach) had come; even Prince Doran had attended, and it seemed to do him good. His pain-lined face had been wreathed in smiles and he had sat at the head of the table at nearly every meal, coming out from his seclusion for the first time in ages.

Trystane noticed, too. "I don't think I have ever seen Papa so happy," he whispered, leaning toward her during the feast on the last night.

"It's because he has got rid of one troublesome son," she teased him, tapping her finger on his nose. It was true enough: tomorrow, Quentyn and Desmera would travel back to the Arbor where they would take up their duties as heirs to Paxter Redwyne.

Trystane scrunched his nose and moved closer to her on the bench, sliding his arm around her waist. "Soon he will be got rid of another," he murmured in her ear, kissing her gently on the cheek, then the neck.

"Ah, ah, this is not your wedding yet, little brother," warned Arianne as she briskly tapped them on their shoulders, pushing them firmly aside so that she could sit between them. "Room enough for the Mother, if you please."

"You're my sister, not my mother," Trystane grumbled. "And there isn't enough room for your backside!"

"Trystane!" Myrcella protested, but Arianne had it well in hand.

"If I were Mama, I would spank you on yours," she told him, and swatted at him anyway. Trystane yelped and hit her back, and their end of the table erupted into chaos as brothers and sisters, cousins and friends all shrieked and jabbed at each other, tickling and pinching as one can only do to those one truly loves.

Arianne and Myrcella had been thick as thieves when she had first arrived at Sunspear, still dreadfully homesick and afraid. Uncle Tyrion had promised her that the people of Dorne would treat her well; but though everyone had been kind, it was only Arianne who had truly been a friend at first. She had sneaked into Myrcella's room and hid behind drapes or under the bed to jump out at her, shown her the sights of the Water Gardens and Planky Town alike, even encouraged her to speak with Trystane, who at 15 had been terribly spotty and sulky.

Then Arianne had gone to visit her mother and her family, in far-off Norvos. It had been planned for only a few months, but the time had stretched on and on, and only Quentyn's marriage had brought her back at last. Myrcella had missed her even as she had grown closer with Trystane, and part of her dreaded their marriage that would take her away from the drowsy warmth and comfort of Arianne's company, even as it would deliver her back to her family at King's Landing.

Later that night, Myrcella crept into Arianne's chambers and hid inside the great wardrobe, keeping the door half-open as it had been already. (Arianne was shockingly untidy for a princess, and refused to allow any servant in her quarters to deal with the resulting mess. She used to drag Myrcella to her rooms once a month or so and make her sit on the bed, while Arianne picked up the clothes strewn about the floor or flung over the backs of chairs and complained about her own bad habits. Already, Myrcella thought, Arianne could do with a good cleaning.) A short while later the door to the chamber opened and Myrcella readied herself to jump out, just as Arianne had done to her so often.

But Arianne was not alone.

"—Yronwoods aren't pleased by the match," someone was saying. "Lord Anders thought Quentyn would marry Gwyneth, after being fostered with them for so long."

It was Ellaria Sand. She hadn't been seen overmuch at Sunspear since returning from King's Landing two months ago, Lord Oberyn's body in tow. Since then she'd avoided the court, instead spending time with Oberyn's daughters. The few times Myrcella had seen her, Ellaria had been as warm and friendly as before, but with a knife-edge to her smile that Myrcella recognized all too well from the courtiers in the Red Keep. She'd had taken care not to be alone with Ellaria, nor with the Sand Snakes, since then.

"Then Lord Anders is a fool," said Arianne in her sing-song voice, "and should be regarded as such. Gwyneth is a lovely girl, but she is far too little for a Prince of Dorne. The Arbor is a more valuable holding and the Redwynes far more valuable allies."

"And once Trystane is married to his blonde bastard girl, you will have both your brothers safely out of Dorne," said Ellaria. There was the sound of clothing being moved about, and Ellaria sitting down. "Really, dear, you ought to have someone clean in here. There could be mice, for all you know."

Arianne laughed, as though Ellaria had only insulted her housekeeping. Myrcella's hands clenched into fists. Was this what Arianne truly thought of her? And in Dorne, of all places! Where Ellaria herself, and all her lover's daughters, carried the last name of Sand! Ellaria had made much of the Dornish saying that bastard children were born of love and passion, and thus as trueborn as any child conceived by wedded parents. But clearly she held Myrcella in as much contempt as any of the rest of them would back home, if they knew the truth.

They never knew King Robert, the man who'd never once looked at her or her brothers but with resentment and bitterness. None of her mother's children had been loved, not by that oafish lumbering stag who saw them all as shackles that tied him to the Lannisters he hated so much. What shame was there in knowing her true parents, at least, loved each other? And loved their children, even if only one could dare show it? Myrcella wanted to burst out of the wardrobe and declare that she would gladly call herself Myrcella Waters — Myrcella Lannister — and dare anyone to judge her for it. 

But she huddled further into herself and listened, to hear what else Arianne might say.

"I've stayed away too long," is what she said, "if you're this comfortable calling poor Myrcella such names. She's done nothing to you—"

The scrape of a chair signaled that Ellaria had risen once again. "Her family murdered your uncle, who you seemed once to love—"

"—and yet I have been informed of a certain present you sent to Queen Cersei just a few days ago," Arianne overrode her. "A snake, with Myrcella's pendant in its mouth. Hardly subtle, my dear."

Ellaria did not answer, and Myrcella put her hand to her mouth to keep her own silence. Her pendant had gone missing during the wedding celebrations, she had thought a victim of one of the more energetic dances on that first night. But Ellaria had got hold of it somehow? And sent it to Mother as a...threat, it seemed. Or a warning.

"What do you want, Ellaria?" asked Arianne with more gentleness than Myrcella felt capable of. "The Lannisters have already suffered, even if not by our hand: their patriarch dead, their firstborn dead, their brother Tyrion probably dead and certainly dead to them. Even Casterly Rock itself is in dire straits, from what I've heard. You've spoken to my father a great deal of vengeance — but where will it end? Will it be satisfied with Myrcella's death? Or do you need every child of theirs to die, before killing Cersei and Jaime?"

"I—" Ellaria's voice was thick, and there was a long moment of quiet before she spoke again. "I do not know," she said at last, as if confessing.

"Well, I do know," said Arianne briskly, "and I will tell you, if you will listen."

"...I will," said Ellaria slowly. Myrcella hardly dared breathe.

"Good. I did not linger in Norvos for nothing, much as I love Mama. Do you remember Illyrio Mopatis, the magister from Pentos? We met him years ago, when I was a girl and you and Oberyn took me with you to Essos. You were pregnant with Dorea, I think, and Obella and Tyene followed you everywhere with pillows for your chairs. Illyrio then got you a litter and had you carried everywhere."

"Gods, yes," Ellaria said, chuckling. "And he had one to match!"

"Uncle Oberyn kept crowding out the litterbearer in the front so that he could carry you," Arianne said. "At any rate, I saw him — Illyrio. He came for a visit to Mama's estate, and we spoke at great length about certain plans he has been making."

Ellaria's laugh now was sour. "Ah yes, he and the Spider have been making those plans for nearly twenty years, haven't they? Put the Targaryen boy back on the throne with the assurance that this one is sane." She snorted. "They thought Rhaegar was sane, too."

"If by 'this one,' you refer to Viserys Targaryen, his sanity is a moot point," said Arianne. "He's dead. Has been for several years, apparently. But his sister Daenerys has survived. She's been making quite a nuisance of herself in Slaver's Bay. Along with her three dragons, Illyrio tells me."

"Dragons?" Ellaria scoffed. "Illyrio's always said a great number of things. That never made any of them true."

"Which is why I want you to go and find out what is true. Meet with this Daenerys Stormborn yourself. Take her measure. I could only discover so much in Norvos, with Mama's eye always on me. She doesn't approve of Papa's conciliation to the Red Keep, but stories of Targaryen princesses and their dragons aren't to her liking, either."

"Are they to your liking?" Whatever response Arianne made, it seemed to satisfy Ellaria. "Very well. I have two conditions."

"Only two?"

"First, I shall first go to Pentos first and speak directly with Illyrio. He never could lie to me, and if he is so sure Daenerys Targaryen is the true ruler of Westeros then he'll be willing to back that up with coin and supplies. Which we'll need, in abundance."

Arianne sighed. "Very well. Though if you venture so close to Norvos, Mama will insist you visit her."

Ellaria made a prevaricating sound. "Your mother always liked me best."

"She did. And does. What is your second condition?"

"Our daughters come with me. All of them."

"No," Arianne said flatly. "Aside from the fact that it will look strange to have all the Sand Snakes gone, Lorenza is barely seven years old. You would take her across the Narrow Sea to a slave city?"

"Better than leave her here, where Doran can fill her head with his witterings about peace and forgiveness," Ellaria snapped. "If she dies — if any of us die — at least we will not live like your father."

"Take Nymeria and Tyene," Arianne countered. "Obara, if you must. The rest of the Snakes are better off here. What would Sarella do in Meereen, or Astapor, or Yunkai? Those cities do not have a reputation for academic pursuits."

"She can bring her books with her. All of us go, or none. I want nothing of Oberyn left behind for someone else to take from me."

Arianne sighed. "I'll consider it. But I want you to consider, too. If this Daenerys Stormborn is what she is said to be, she will retake the Iron Throne 'with fire and blood.' Take care that it is not your blood, my dear."

They spoke for a bit longer, until the bells chimed the hour and Ellaria departed. How long until Arianne went to bed? Myrcella might stay here the whole night and then what would she do? Who could she tell? Who did she want to tell?

"You are thinking loudly enough to wake the entire palace, little lioness," said Arianne, and opened the wardrobe door all the way. Myrcella shrank back but it was no use; Arianne was looking down at her, shaking her head. "Let's talk, so that you might be a little quieter."

"Are you going to kill my brother?" she asked, not moving.

"No," Arianne said, with a certainty that Myrcella could not help but believe. "Nor will I let anyone else. We do not hurt children in Dorne." She held out her hand, and Myrcella took it.

They sat down on the bench near the window, the one that overlooked the whole of the palace and beyond that, the city of Sunspear itself. The stars here were clear and bright, even with the torches and lights from below burning merrily at this late hour.

"Tommen's in King's Landing, not Dorne," was the first thing Myrcella could think of to say. "And he's not a child anymore." Nor am I, she thought.

Arianne rolled her eyes. "So literal. I forgot this about you. You're right — he's a man grown now, and a husband soon, and already a king. But he is not to blame for the way things are now, anymore than Viserys and Daenerys were to blame for what their father and brother did during the Rebellion."

"My father always said Uncle Stannis should have killed them when he had the chance." She could remember that argument well, as it was one Robert made whenever Uncle Stannis irritated him — which was often. You had only to take them and drown them, and you couldn't even manage that! My brother the great tactician, bested by infants! 

"I very much doubt your father said any such thing," said Arianne tartly, "Though I am sure King Robert said it often enough." She tilted her head as she regarded Myrcella. "When did you first realize? About your parents?"

Myrcella hesitated, but it seemed silly to pretend ignorance now, of all times. "I've always known, I think. When the ravens came from Dragonstone, from Uncle Stannis, saying that we were bastard-born...it wasn't a surprise." Nor had she been surprised at her not-uncle's blunt declaration, cutting himself off from all claims of blood and family. Stannis had always been a hard man to love; she suspected he found it hard to love others in turn. Perhaps it had been as great a relief to him as it had been to her, to know there was nothing that bound them to each other after all.

"I am glad you know," said Arianne, "but that is one reason I wanted you to hear Ellaria's plans, as well as my own. She wants to hurt your mother and father very badly. Her rage has made her blind. My hope is that distance, as well as time, will allow her to see clearly again. But in the meanwhile it is best for everyone if you and she are far away from each other."

"But...those things you said, about Daenerys Targaryen. You want her to come here?"

Arianne sighed and took Myrcella's hands in hers. They were small and soft, dwarfed by Myrcella's long fingers. "Daenerys Stormborn is coming here. Nothing can stop that; sooner or later, she will arrive with her dragons, and she will take the Iron Throne. If your brother and your parents are to survive it, they must have somewhere to go. Someone who will take them in."

Myrcella stared at her. She couldn't mean Dorne; for one thing, Mother would never agree to live out her days here, strolling about the Water Gardens and bathing in the Summer Sea. For another, the Martells and the Targaryens had a complicated enough relationship; even Doran, even Arianne, wouldn't risk the wrath of a new queen by hosting the old king.

"Perhaps Highgarden—" but even as Myrcella said it she could see it for the farcical suggestion it was. She'd never met the Queen of Thorns, but she knew the Tyrells had sided with the Targaryens during the Rebellion; Olenna Tyrell would be only too happy to turn the Lannisters right back over to Daenerys should they put a foot wrong, even if Tommen's marriage to Margaery went through. Which left—

"Casterly Rock," she said, and felt ashamed that it had taken her so long to understand. "You want me to hold the Westerlands." It made sense: Jaime was still in the Kingsguard and likely to remain so, and Uncle Tyrion was long gone (and would be barred from inheriting anyhow, given the accusations that he had murdered Grandfather). Uncle Kevan and Lancel might have claims to it, but Tommen's last letter had mentioned Lancel's latest obsession with some odd religious sect that had gained popularity in the Crownlands. Which left...herself, of all the remaining Lannisters.

Arianne nodded. "Casterly Rock. You were raised to be the wife of a great lord. But I think you are better suited to be a great lord yourself." She lifted her eyebrows. "More importantly, little lioness, what do you think?"

All at once she wanted it more than breath: a home of her own, a castle, a people, a kingdom. A chance to be fair and kind and noble not just amongst the simpering painted faces of court, but in a place where fairness and kindness mattered. She could take Casterly Rock and make something more of it than the just golden bank of Westeros. Myrcella could feel a ravening hunger in her that she'd never imagined, that would take all of the Westerlands to sate.

Myrcella held on tightly. She could feel her fingers turning to claws, her hair a wild mane. "Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper but roaring louder in her head, in her throat, in her chest. "Yes."

[rainintheevening]

Part I – Part II ... Part XVI – Part XVII

The consequences of the Affair of the Pevensie Brothers and the Well extend beyond said Pevensie brothers in ways that surprise Edmund greatly, when his week-long prison sentence is up, and Matron releases him from the San at last.

The hacking cough lingers, and the ankle will keep him from walking or riding comfortably for another week at least, but his energy returns rapidly, and when she catches him trying to slip out to classes one morning, she resigns herself.

Peter looks for him between every lesson, speaks to him before and after every meal, wanders into the Second Form common room at odd moments in the evenings, but Edmund understands, he knows that protection is Peter's prerogative, and that Edmund, well, to Peter, his little brother's life is beyond price.

He takes to showing up in the Sixth Form common room some nights, just to save Peter the trouble. That's one place he first notices the changes.

They never throw Ed out, not even Witherspoon, head of the high-and-mighty Sixth. The first few times Ed follows Peter in, he sees a few mouths open, a few frowns start, but then they pause, shrug, or someone else's hand or word stays them.

He puts it together the fourth night. The way their eyes slide from him to Peter, and there they hesitate, their indignation fades, and Ed almost laughs because he knows that look.

Respect. They look at Peter with respect, deference, and Ed is grinning with the double-sight it gives him.

High King Peter, he thinks, and a swell of affection chokes him when he sees how Peter only half-notices the reactions, when he watches Peter smile and joke like the others, until his opinion is asked and it is given in a lordly fashion, which would come across as stuffy from anyone else, but only sounds firm and decisive from Peter.

Edmund isn't surprised by his own suddenly vaulted status among his peers; he did after all Nearly Die, or so the story goes. In truth, he probably would have had until midnight before he was beyond help; as cold as the wretched place had been, there was no wind, he'd been mostly dry, and even with the bad ankle, he'd done his best to keep the blood flowing. He also hadn't given up hope, he'd told himself over and over that Peter would come, Peter would come and find him.

And Peter had.

Seemingly creating his own legend in the process.

Ed pieces the story together slowly, between make-up classes and extra tutoring, amusing himself in the process.

Peter's version is quick and to the point, and says far more about Edmund than himself.

Colin tells of a Peter who strode down the hallway, with people scattering before him, Finley and Harris and Biggers scuttling in front like sulky sheep, and Head Boy Wollers at his side. “He made Wollers look small,” Colin says.

Ed’s fellow second formers whisper of Pevensie's solemnity, before the wild rush that followed his exclamation of the culprit’s name.

Two weeks after, a fight breaks out on the way in to breakfast, not just pushing and shoving either, but snarling and punching and hot-blooded blows spilling onto the dining hall floor.

Ed turns to look back, catches sight of Peter coming in, and suddenly, somehow, Peter’s there before the masters, catching upraised fist, stilling wild boys into open upturned faces. Edmund comes to Peter's side as he sets both Third Formers on their feet.

“What are you doing, spoiling your breakfast like this?” Peter's all sharp sword sheathed, firm on the edge of fatherly. “Not to mention the rest of ours. Go sit down, and don't speak to each other until you're done, unless it's to apologise.”

Edmund bites back a smile at the abashed faces, the meek murmurs of assent.

Peter does not glance round at the staring eyes as he walks to his table, only nodding to the masters, who nod relief back.

The Third Formers, Ed discovers then, hold Peter in utter awe, and he gathers that part of the tale in passing snatches of words, in strategic positioning at the library.

Peter, barging into the common room that night like a whirlwind, picking up Finley by his shirtfront as if he were a rag doll, his anger filling the room.

He hadn't shouted once, one of the boys says, just sort of snapped, and Finley fessed up in a heartbeat.

Don't touch Edmund Pevensie, someone mutters, or you’ll be facing his brother.

It gives Ed mixed feelings, knowing Peter's show of anger had been more like fear, fear for Ed and whatever had been done to him. Peter's passionate, energetic, but he's kind too, and only fear truly makes him show his teeth, nothing hits closer to Peter's great heart than danger to his family.

Ed witnessed that dozens of times in Narnia, watched Peter master the art of wielding both sword and open hand, and he knows Peter is relearning it here, though it is harder in many ways, he thinks.

He’s seen Peter roused, he can imagine the shock Finley must have had, the impact of Peter forcing him to come out in the snow, to see what fate had befallen Ed as a result of the older boy’s cruelty, and he hopes, prays that shock can be a catalyst.

He remembers a flash of blue, a stone fox, the sting of hot tears, and the deep sudden surge of pity and horror.

That was the crux of it for him, Edmund knows: feeling sorrow on behalf of someone else, instead of just yourself. That was the beginning of his change.

Could Finley have felt the same, shivering in the snow, staring down at Peter cradling Ed in his arms and repeating his name through tears?

He hopes, he certainly hopes.

When he writes to Finley and Harris and Biggers, he chooses his words carefully but kindly, as if he were calling out Peter for some lapse in judgement. Certainly here, Ed knows he has no place for superiority.

He’s pleased, even moved, when Peter pushes a well-folded paper into Ed’s hand, asks him to put it in the envelope for Finley, asks him not to read it.

Edmund resists the temptation, but he thinks he already knows what it says; even here at this crowded boy’s school, Peter is still the noblest man he has ever met.

No letters ever come in response, but Ed knows he has done what he can, and makes his peace with it.

On his return to the stables, Master Gringham calls, “Mighty glad to see you, Ed-boy!” but his pat on the back is careful, and Ed hacks into his fist with a grin.

“Thank you, sir.”

But when Peter's in the riding ring helping three first formers through their second riding lesson, Gringham comes to stand by Edmund leaning on the fence.

They watch Peter for several moments in silence, before Gringham breaks it abruptly.

“He's nearly lost you before, hasn't he?”

A flash of green eyes, the gleam of light on steel, the shaft of an arrow…

Edmund exhales. “Yes.”

“He would die for you, he loves you so.”

“Yes.”

“His face.” Slower now. “It was… terrible. But beautiful. Like I imagine a lion might look.”

Edmund turns his head to hide his smile. “I can imagine.”

“Glad you're alright. For his sake. And mine too, I suppose.” A gleam of a grin breaks through.

Edmund grins back, sobers. “Well, thank you for being there for him. You… remind him of someone.”

“Someone, eh?” A sharp look from under grey eyebrows, but Ed just nods, steady.

Gringham shrugs. “He's a boy I'd be proud of,” he says, stepping back from the fence. “And the same for you.” Another quick pat on Edmund’s shoulder, who nods his thanks, before the stablemaster walks off.

Peter is adjusting one boy’s posture, and Ed smiles, hunches his shoulders further under his coat. His coughs make white clouds of warm breath.

Next

[mysticmellowlove]

warnings; literally none, this shit is comfort only

a/n; damn the end of the year has hands, getting the shit beaten out of me. also happy birthday to cookie anon (i literally forgot to congratulate you in the post you sent though whoops)

The rain gently pounded on the window as you lay looking towards the wall. While the soft sounds had lulled your boyfriend to sleep it hadn't done the same for you. You still lay there, your eyes so fixated on the wall that there seemed to be nothing else.

Not your boyfriend's hands, not the sound of rain, nor the sound of your own heart beating in your chest. It had been one of those days. Every day this week had seemed to be one of those days though. Just an endless cycle of 'blah'.

You sighed and shifted, going to face your boyfriend instead, staying in the funk would do nothing to help you. Who better to chase away your insecurities and worries apart from your love? You expected him to be sleeping, he had a knack for falling asleep in any environment, but he wasn't. This time he was wide awake as he looked at you.

Your mouth dropped open, surprised that he was even lucid at this time of night. He sighed softly and let his hand drape around your waist.

"Come on, tell me what's going on." His voice was heavy with sleep, that soothing drawl you loved so much. You went to refute his words only to realise what good would it do. He seemed to just know what you were feeling at all times.

"It's not much, just feeling a little off is all." He hummed as he propped his head up using his hand, nodding as he did so. For a moment butterflies rose in your stomach, he was so attentive.

"You need to stop being so hard on yourself, I've seen you work, you're doing great." He said as he gently squeezed your waist as he pulled you in for a hug. You sighed and wrapped your own arms around him, letting the warmth of his body remind you that at least there was one person in your corner.

"Yeah I know, sometimes it's hard though." You murmured as his hands went to tangle in your hair, gently he let his fingers smooth out the bedhead you probably had.

"And that's alright, we can work through it together." He hummed as he looked into your eyes. "We're a team after all."

He had a goofy smile on his expression as he grinned, his eyes showing nothing but love for you. You couldn't help the small laugh that left your mouth as you cuddled into him.

"You're so cute." You hummed as you peppered his face with kisses.

"I'll have to be cute more often if this is what it gets me." He laughed as his face slowly warmed from your attention.

"I'm serious though, you can rely on me." He hummed as he grabbed your face and planted a big kiss on your lips. For a moment it all seemed okay. You hummed in agreement.

"Alright, no more sulky and sad." You said as you let him kiss you deeply, his hands gently caressing your face as he pulled you closer. Finally, after what felt like a blissful lifetime, he pulled back and smiled gently.

"Tomorrow we can start, but it's late and I think we're both a little tired." He said as he weaselled his way under your chin and turned.

"You're just saying that because you want to be little spoon." You teased as you pulled him flush against you and kissed the back of his head softly.

"Of course, it was all part of my master plan." He laughed as he grabbed your arms and wrapped them around him.

"I love you." He whispered as the sound of rain finally started to work its magic.

"I love you too." You said as the two of you drifted off into sleep.

[lausticzt]

Wait, have you been drinking? @naitfall / x.

SHE DOESN'T QUITE EXPECT IT (...) takes her a moment too long to hear his words. Honestly, she doesn't really remember what she had been saying prior to his question. She feels her words aren't quite reaching, somewhere along the way she had rambled onto other matters / she might have snorted once or twice, her scoffs loud and obnoxious before cheek rests in the palm of her hand. She recalls tracing her fingers across the wooden table, eyes closing as she spoke, a low murmer in her throat that aquainted to a whine.

Her heartbeat is loud. It sounds loud. Levi manages to startle her with that. A part of her willing her to SOBER UP, however unsuccessful, it at least attempts to reclaim a semblance of self from her clouded head. Maybe, she had momentarily forgotten who she was speaking to / maybe it hadn't really mattered. Is she self-concious all of a sudden? Defensive? She isn't sure what he thinks (...) can't recognise the tone in his words. Accusatory? Curious? Surprised? Annoyed? Well, now she is annoyed.

“ Maybe I have. Why, got a problem with that? ” LIPS DON'T QUITE FROWN, can't quite keep her gaze focused enough to display her usual defense / a sulky expresssion that almost deflates into timid defeat, before thoughts take over, enacting a sudden outrage as eyes that had wandered down snap back. “ Oh I forgot - I guess people like me wouldn't dare to disgrace themselves by drinking so excessively. Is that it? It isn't your business anyway, but I CAN hold my liquor. ” Laura is quick to her feet with an adrupt rush of energy. Hands slam on the table as she rises, head tilting with a scowl - and so what if she did drink? Maybe she can get blindly entoxicated. That's her choice. Not that she was ( she doesn't drink ) but if she chose to, then so what.

She may have been moody prior to the STUBBORN WILL that made her down the first drink. Rebellion, a moments lapse, maybe a comment on a bad day, one warning her that she shouldn't touch the stuff. A friendly jest turned sour.

“ But oh my apologies. I wouldn't want to embarrass myself. I suppose I best curtsy and bow at your feet then. ” Evidently, he hasn't done anything worthy of her irritation. She's not even mad at him, but oh she does indeed curtsy on cue. A fumbled performance, one that stumbles her from balance (...) the table's edge a quick safeguard from completely falling over herself. Ignore the rising heat, she wasn't so far gone. She was acting fine.

A sharp mutter under her breath, hair falling in front of her face / but not so entirely out of view, as she glares from under loose strands. He didn't make her tumble, but he might have well of. Standing up hadn't been the best idea. Her legs didn't quite feel like hers. She couldn't tell if she felt ridiculously light or if her body would be too heavy to move around without tripping her over.

“ I'm fine I'm not drunk stop looking at me like that with your annoying pretty eyes. I can stand just fine but you're distracting me again and I need to get another cup. ” Isn't quite sure where her last one went and for that her frown deepens. If someone took her drink she's really going to - oh. It's still on the table. How did she miss that? Embarrassment and anger stare down the mug. Disgusting mug. She will not be humilated for a second time.

[justsomeno1s]

Had a dream that Kel was somehow blamed/involved in Hero's death/disappearance. Aubrey and her gang picked on him, but also protected him fron worse groups. Kel had a weird, oversized skateboard, and was super subdued/sulky- He avoided everyone and kept falling asleep during School classes. Aubrey and Basil kept dragging him into hangouts (There was something about a "Sleeping Conga Grab" in on of them?)

An older woman (Karen vibes) was the actual culprit and worked to frame him, including calling him to a park at 3 in the morning to have something done to him so he wouldn't tell. She also adopted Hector before Kel did just so she could gloat at 'me'.

It didn't look like Hector, but it was. It looked like a pitbull or smth- Smth agressive with dark, splotchy fur.

It was supposed to be a time travel thing? Like, Kel would have gotten Hector if She hadn't interfered.

I can't remember who "I" was. Might have been Sunny, might have been me, might have been both. I acted like myself, but was responded to as Sunny.

Just had another short dream, where sunny was investigating who killed Mari and found his violin destroyed. The dream ended with the phrase "Sunny couldn't believe it. He screamed for the murder of sister, who was still alive."

[xwonderfuldeath]

.o| Seasonal Calendar |o.

Chonkly

• July 19 •

Warnings : Fluff, red flag behavior, fight

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥

“- Did you choose what you want?

- … No.

- Take your time, choice is important.”

The woman, acting more like a four-year-old, simply nodded her little head, biting her lower lip, she seemed lost in the choices on the various shelves, playing with the sleeve of her much too large for her sweater. The heat outside was stifling, but she didn't feel the urge to have her arms out in full view of the people around her, always feeling that they were judging her. She made her way through the store filled with children's toys, accompanied by her two bodyguards, Felix and Ekaterina, the closest fatui to her second companion, Childe. Elyzabeth Ivanovich, or rather Tseng now, was the second wife of the highly respected Morax, or Zhongli, the famous ruler of the rock, having been chosen at the annual festival of descent, where Mr. Tseng had to find a companion for the coming year. All had decided not to stay with him, deciding to have no further contact with this thick brute who had nothing to please them. But Elyzabeth thought he was sweet, always gentle with her, and spoke to her in an almost honeyed tone, compared to the redhead. Childe was a real spoiled brat, a real viper's tongue who never stopped tormenting her, twice begging the great Morax to get her out of their lives. But what could she do if he didn't like her jokes? In the end, Zhongli had given her opinion: she would stay, whether Childe liked it or not, in her place as sovereign, and she'd heard them yell at each other about it more than once. Childe would get over it, she was sure, and there was no reason for him to remain angry, especially as he was the one primarily responsible for the situation. If he hadn't been a shy kid, she'd have treated him better in the first place. But she was lonely, the poor sovereign mostly locked away behind the big gates of the estate, Zhongli busy with his work, Childe still preferring to ignore him rather than act like a normal lover. Yet he didn't mind slipping into bed with the redhead on lonely evenings, not that Elyzabeth didn't want to anyway, she'd always had feelings for the Harbinger, something inexplicable. A mutual, childlike attraction.

“- Why not him?

- No.

- Why not?

- Because I don't like him.”

A weary sigh passed Childe's lips, as he continued to make his way between the shelves, searching with his eyes for anything that might please the little lady. He obviously didn't want to be there, but no one had asked his opinion, Childe had to be here for any official outing the Sovereign of the Rock couldn't be. The pretty Elyzabeth raised her eyes to the heavens, before continuing to circle around the stuffed animals, as she was feeling lonely, the sovereign had granted her to find a friend, someone with whom she could spend time, talk and feel reassured. It wasn't the Grizzly that was Childe who could help her feel positive in this big, cold building. So she asked for a stuffed animal, something that wouldn't normally attack her when her back was turned, but the choice was terribly difficult, with so many different stuffed animals to choose from. Elyzabeth didn't know where to put her eyes, or let her gaze wander so as not to fall in love with all the cute little faces. Which obviously made the redhead impatient, randomly pulling out one of them and showing it to her as if it were the right cuddly toy. He really didn't understand a thing, and that made Elyzabeth sulky. If it was to have a troublesome Childe, she'd surely have done better to stay at the palaces, or at least go somewhere far away, where she was sure he wouldn't be able to follow her.

“- Stop it, I've already said no.

- Hurry up, I've got an important meeting in three hours.

- What's the big deal?

- So I don't feel like babysitting anyone for three hours.

- Nobody's asking you to, you can go.”

The powdered one is irritated, she knows better than anyone that he's trying to get her riled up, but she resists, turns her back to go and see something else, another shelf with even more fluff on it, making the redhead grunt in frustration. This brute lived only for combat at the moment, seeking out everyone, even the sovereign had to put him in his place, leaving him with a wound running from his shoulder to his lower back. Elyzabeth wasn't the smartest of women, but she knew that cutting someone in half was a bad idea. And lethal. So even though Childe was unbearable, she said nothing, didn't get into his stupid game, she was here for a cuddly toy, not to rip his head off. Even so, Elyzabeth would be lying if she said she didn't want to.

“- Why not our good sovereign, you like him don't you?”

She straightened her eyes, looking at the novelty Childe had found, an exact copy of the dragon, lying down. Its little legs, its colors, you could see that Zhongli's daughter had put her hands to the sewing. But right next to it, proudly placed on the display, the plush ball also caught her eye, an antique baby geosaurus. A perfect replica with drawn features and beautiful eyes. Her heart sways for the two little pieces of stuffed fabric, begging her to take them and love them with all her heart. She hesitates, moving towards the geosaurus, then towards the plush toy Childe hands her. And he still finds something to complain about, pulling the Morax plush out from under the gaze of the beautiful Elyzabeth, who wrinkles her nose, ready to retort, but he beats her to it with his mocking air.

“- The sovereign said: One plush, no more.

- I didn't say I'd take two.

- But you're hesitating. Make your choice.”

He swings the stuffed toy from right to left, as if it were a balloon, taunting Elyzabeth with his air of frightened bitchiness. She takes a long breath, trying to calm her nerves, and then goes to take a closer look at the two of them, under the redhead's laughter, ever more mocking, always looking for the little beast. And finally she snaps, her sword of ice appearing between her fingers, as she turns around, cutting the poor plushie in half in the process, the blood from Childe's stricken hand runs down and he looks at her, delighted by this reaction.

“- Bas alors, ont est sur les nerfs miss?

- I wonder why you are?

- Me too.”

He replies directly, retaliating with his sly smile, and soon the stuffed toy store becomes a veritable battlefield, open to insults and every trick in the book. The poor stuffed toys quickly end up on the floor, torn open, childish dresses, polished shoes, nothing is spared by the marital dispute, Elyzabeth quickly getting the upper hand, only because of the sovereign's wounds still fresh on Childe, and she's about to plant her now ice spear in the ground to show off her victory before a shout brings them back down to earth. Letting go of the cloth she's retrieving, the amber-tipped blonde looks at her now ransacked store, the walls cracked, the floor splintered. She wonders how the building hadn't collapsed during their ruckus, and the dry voice that sounds so much like her father's echoes.

“- Get out of my store immediately! Fight outside!”

Elyzabeth looks sulky as she sits on the leather sofa, while Childe seems proud of himself, looking at the sovereign with his cheeky little bitch look, not a little sorry to have wrecked a Liyue store.

“- Mayuri sent me the bill. Two hundred and ten stuffed animals from the new collection smashed to bits. Forty-two dresses beyond repair, fifty pairs of shoes destroyed. The store collapsed after you left, making a total of 1 million two hundred and fifty thousand moras in debt.

- In my defense, Elyzabeth started it.

- What? You were unbearable! And you want to blame it all on me?

- Oh, madame is disappointed because she couldn't win?

- Silence.”

The two fall silent, but don't completely stop under the golden gaze of the Sovereign of the Rock, who places the papers in front of him, folding his hands solemnly as he passes from Childe to Elyzabeth coldly.

“- The Northern Bank will have to reimburse this sum and reopen Mayuri's store.

- What?! Why?!

- Because if you don't, we leave our agreement with the fatui permanently.”

Childe frowns, opening his mouth to protest before finally crossing his arms and grinding his teeth on his reopened wound. Then Zhongli turns her eyes to look at Elyzabeth, who is trying to make herself smaller, less present.

“- I've made the decision to choose your new friend.

- But…

- You can name him.”

He pushes open the box under Elyzabeth's angry gaze, turning to Childe as he gently mocks her. She picked up the parcel, looking to see which one Mr. Tseng had decided to give her, delighted all the same to have the right to the dragon. The patched seams in the middle tell her it must be the first of the great carnage, but she makes no comment on this, rejoining her place slightly but standing further away from the redhead.

“- Next time you declare war in Liyue, I'll have you put straight in jail for the night. Am I clear?

- Yes.”

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

Smacking their ass

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna, Toji, Itadori, Megumi, X Fem!Reader

Genre: Humor

Format: Drabble

Warnings: Suggestive content, Mild NSFW content on Toji's part cuz he's daddy

Word Count: 0.8K

A/n: For a person who hates her ass to get slapped and loves to slap her man's ass, I'm a bit bold.

↳Sukuna

It wouldn't take him long to notice your small steps approaching him from behind. He can tell how hard you're trying to remain unnoticed from the way you hold your breath and avoid making the slightest noises, and it might have been efficient, really; if you hadn't chosen the wrong person to mess with.

"Don't even think about it"

His serious tune is enough to freeze you in the spot, your eyes twitching with surprises as you watch his figure from behind.

Not even bothering to turn around. Of course.

"I... I was..." "No need to make up excuses, brat. I already know about everything going on in that little head of yours"

He now turns around to show off that playful smirk of his, and you both know that he doesn't need to remind you that you can't play anything funny on the strongest creature in the world. You then gasp when you feel a harsh slap against your butt, which has enough force to make you jump in the spot.

"See? That's how it should be" He gives you one last chuckle before going back to whatever he was doing, leaving you all sulky and unsatisfied with how things turned out in the end.

↳Toji

Years of going to secret missions and slaying people earned him an amazing hearing ability, so he will sense your appearance the minute you step inside the room. You were never good at sneaking up to people, but that doesn't mean he can't pretend like he isn't aware of your presence. He's curious to know what you're planning on, after all.

So when you stand behind him and aim for his butt, you think that you've won; but just a second before your palm lands on his ass, your hands are suddenly seized by his,twisting them so your body falls into his embrace, your back facing his chest.

"What do you think you're doing?" His low pitched whisper against your ear is enough to send shivers down your spin.

"Misbehaving now are we? Well, I guess I don't have any choice but to teach you some manners"

When he slaps your ass for the hundredth time as youre bent over on his lap, you low key regret planning on doing something like this to him; but deep down, you knew it would turn out like this, and you would be lying if you say that your wetness Is caused by something else, not the amount of power he has over you.

↳Megumi

It's a casual date night, you on the couch watching TV as your boyfriend prepares dinner which he got its recipe from Itadori. The only difference is that tonight your favourite show got cancelled and the now the news is being broadcast instead. It's only natural for you to feel bored and peek in the kitchen to check on Megumi, right?

And when you do, you see that everything is clean, the dishes are all washed, a pleasant smell has filled the room, everything is so perfect; yet all that catches your attention is how nice his butt looks from behind as he's standing in front of the cooker.

Target locked, processing attack, three, two, one...

Slap!

"Nice ass man!"

He doesn't have to turn around so you can see his reaction. From how he suddenly froze and his whole body tensed up, you can tell that the poor man is stunned.

When you leave him behind cause apparently, "your job is done", he can clearly hear you burst out into laughter, and he cannot help but to think about how you're going to be the death of him.

↳Itadori

Watching Itadori doing literally anything is pleasant to the eye. The way his muscles protrude against the fabric of his hoodie when he bends to pick up things from the floor has you drooling over the sight. But the thing that's giving you the massivest brainstorm at the moment is, how come you've never noticed how much of a fine ass this man has?

You can't take your eyes off it because, it's right there? In front of you? With nobody touching it???

Maybe God is trying to give you some hints, which you'll gladly pick up.

So when he bends over, again, to reach out for the tray that used to contain sweets, suddenly something hits his ass, not so gently.

Of course the man is shocked; so when he turns around to see who's this trespasser that has violated his privacy, he's met with your huge ass smile and your brightened face.

"Quite a nice ass you got there, my Friend"

Itadori would've thanked you when he got through the whole situation eventually, but all he can think about now is how you called him "Friend" instead of "boyfriend"

Reblogs are appreciated! :)♡

[finallydelight]

WeLive 230108 | Ming

name WeLive: ming ming birthday party 🧁

— GREETING

''Hi, everyone! It's my first time doing a live on Weverse alone.'' Ming looked between the camera and the staff, a bit unsure of what to do next.

''We were busy with GDA, so I couldn't meet you guys on my actual birthday,'' she explained why she's doing the live broadcast two days after her actual birthday, ''but I'm happy we get to do it now.''

— FAN QUESTIONS

Q. Did you receive any gifts from the members?

''Yes, it's a pretty crazy story. When it was midnight, they all came to my hotel room and they were singing 'Happy Birthday' to me. I think it was Seungkwan-oppa who said that they had a collective gift for me, something from all of them. Then, Coups-oppa pulls out this tiny box and I was a bit upset, because it was something from all 13 of them and it was super small.'' Ming copied the size of the box with her hands, showing Carats it wasn't anything big at all.

''I got a bit upset, because like Jihoon-oppa got a guitar and Shua-oppa got a bike, so I thought it would be something big as well. So, I obviously complained to them, but they told me to just open it and stop complaining. I opened it and there were keys inside. At first, I was very confused, because why would they get me keys? But then I saw a certain logo of a car brand (Mercedes-Benz) and they had gotten me a car!'' She told viewers all wide-eyed, remembering the shock she felt once she realised they were car keys.

''I've had my driver's licence for a few years now, but I didn't have a car and recently, I had been talking to the members about getting one. They asked me all kinds of questions about it, like what colour and which brand, etc. I should've known, honestly.'' She laughed, thinking about all the questions they had been asking her the past months.

Q. How is Soomin noona doing? 😊😊

''Soomin is doing good,'' Ming chuckled, ''we celebrated my birthday a bit earlier, before we left to go to Bangkok. We went to karaoke, cause we hadn't done that in a while. It was so much fun.''

Q. Funny episode about GDA? ㅋㅋ

''I don't think I have anything funny or anything,'' she nervously smiled, ''but I did run into a lot of our labelmates, which was fun.''

Q. Did you meet Le Sserafim?

''Yes, yes! I did.'' Ming exclaimed. ''Eunchae got me a gift, it was adorable. I think she was a bit nervous to give it to me, but Yunjin-ah helped her. It was a cute shirt and she also has a shirt like that, so now we have matching shirts. I promised I would buy her food when we were back in Seoul, so I'm gonna contact her one of these days.''

''I also met NewJeans, the youngest member is 9 years younger than me. It's unbelievable, they're practically babies. They were so sweet and full of energy, and they said I was their role model,'' Ming pouted, still feeling touched, ''I'm gonna take care of them well, they're super talented.''

Q. I was sad you didn't get to perform Don Quixote, unnie 🥺

''I know, me too. I didn't get to rehearse with the members, so I wasn't prepared for it. The members did very well, I was very proud watching them.'' She smiled, a proud look on her face.

''I'll be performing with the members soon, my knee has recovered and I want to perform in front of Carats again. It's not nice having to sit backstage every time they perform.''

— TMI

∙ Ming will be appearing in the second season of 'In The Soop’, but her screen time is very limited since she was still sick at the time.

∙ After she complained about the staff posting about BSS on her birthday, Dokyeom was acting sulky because she knew that he wouldn't actually scold her. Ming thought it was very cute of him.

∙ Multiple Carats asked about her reaction to Wonwoo's GDA outfit. She had to look the outfit up on her phone, because she couldn't remember it. She called him handsome and said that many Carats must have liked it.

∙ Coups had gotten upset at the styling team, because they gave Ming heels even though her knee had only just recovered. They would've given her other shoes, but there were only heels left for her. Ming didn't mind the heels, and she thought it was very considerate of him.

— FINAL WORDS

''Thank you for watching my WeLive today. I was very happy to talk to you to celebrate my birthday. I know I said last year I wanted to do more live broadcasts and I didn't keep my word, but I promise to you I'll come online more this new year. I had so much fun. Stay healthy, take care of yourselves and we'll meet soon. Thank you, bye bye!''

Taglist: @mystic-luv @cosmicwintr @mythicalamphitrite @billboard-singer @stopeatread @still-astray @sakuurra @multiplums @giverosespls @seongwhaffels @kimhyejin3108 @smoooore @smh-anon @cixrosie

[indelibleevidence]

Okay. So I owe 3x02 Jane a small apology. Not a Mexican-style-chicken-stew-sized apology, but a small one.

I had forgotten that she hadn't been home for long enough to have the 'this is what I did on my bounty-hunter evasion vacation' talk when Dwire showed up and forced the issue. And without THAT, she couldn't have pulled fistfuls of cash out of the air vent the second she saw the red bills on the counter.

BUT she did tell Kurt there were no more surprises when he asked, and that sucked. She could have said something like: 'I have a good surprise, but you're going to want to know how I came across it, and that's going to take some explaining, so it'll have to wait until after work'.

AND she could have talked about it overnight in the middle of the case, since there was a whole night between the satellite coming down and Dwire coming up as a person of interest the next day. Though for narrative flow reasons, I get why that conversation was left until the end of the episode, because having it after the intro credits would have interrupted the case. So this is where my 'I know why the writers didn't want to do that' senses are in conflict with my 'WTF Jane, stop being a terrible wife' instincts.

So, I don't quite hate that red bill scene so much now. Still annoys me, but significantly less than when I saw the gif post earlier.

***

As for Kurt, he's annoying on a different level: for getting sulky that Jane has done things he doesn't know about, and knows people he doesn't - like every other person in the world. Like, dude - just because she didn't remember her life before you, that doesn't mean she hit the pause button when she went on the run. Chill out. Of course she's different now, she's been on the run for at least the same amount of time that she was at the FBI for. That's double the experiences, double the memories...plus any extra ones she got back from Remi's life while she was on the run. Stop throwing your toys out of the pram because she learned how to survive without you.

That aside, I do want to wrap Kurt in a blanket and feed him chocolate in the two Jeller apartment scenes. This poor, sweet man is horribly stressed: he's in mountains of debt, he's just been given his heart's desire and had Roman threaten to take his happiness away within the space of a few hours, and now he can't even feed his wife properly because veganism is hard.

Having said that, the smart thing to do would have been to remove Roman's leverage straight away, especially since Jane points out in the car that he's trying to drive wedges between them. But 'where's the dramatic tension in that?', I guess.

[mimisempai]

The evidences of our love are everywhere

Summary:

Thor is worried about his little brother's happiness and spies on Loki and Mobius in a more or less subtle way.

Tumblr request : Thor spying on Loki and Mobius.

As usual I got carried away and added most of my favorite tropes :p

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33254275

1643 words - Rating G

"I know it, that you are watching us Thor."

Thor wanted to protest at first, but even though he hadn't known Mobius long, he knew the man was perceptive and there was no point in trying to lie to him.

He sighed, "I admit it."

"I suspect you have no malicious intent," Mobius said kindly, "but I would like to know why."

Thor thought about what he would say in response.

He could see that his little brother was happy. That he had changed, or rather that he had become the best version of himself.

And this was partly thanks to Mobius, but he needed to see it with his own eyes. In their daily lives. So he had been watching for every moment he could spy on them during their stay in Asgard.

**********

One evening, he had overheard a scene he never thought he would see.

Mobius with a brush in his hand was sitting behind Loki and asked him softly, "Should I start brushing your hair?"

Loki nodded and closed his eyes, as if he already knew he was going to like it. Like it had become something familiar.

Mobius started at the bottom, taking care not to pull, then slowly worked his way up. After a while, Mobius' fingers replaced the brush and it was clear that Loki was enjoying it. He did not startle or protest. He turned his back to someone and let them touch him. This showed how much he trusted Mobius.

Not so long ago, such contact would have been unimaginable. If it was anyone else but Mobius, Thor thought, Loki would never have allowed it.

Thor could hardly tear himself away from the scene since he was so fascinated.

Mobius stopped and his hands slid over Loki's shoulders and Loki held his head back with a gentle smile on his face. Mobius leaned over and kissed him gently.

Thor thought it was time for him to retire.

**********

" Tell me candidly, is there anything in me, except my ugliness, which displeases you? Do you object to my birth, my temper, my manners?”

“No, truly,” replied the princess; “I like everything in you, except”—and she hesitated courteously—”except your appearance.”

Thor had just entered the living room of Loki and Mobius' suite and stopped in front of the incredible scene he had before his eyes.

Loki was lying on the couch, his head on Mobius' lap, Mobius had one hand in his hair and in the other hand a book that he was reading aloud.

Thor held his breath, because the two men had neither seen nor heard him.

Mobius continued reading.

“Then, madam, I need not lose my happiness; for if I have the gift of making clever whosoever I love best, you also are able to make the person you prefer as handsome as ever you please. Could you love me enough to do that?”

“I think I could,” said the princess, and her heart being greatly softened towards him, she wished that he might become the handsomest prince in all the world. No sooner had she done so than Riquet with the Tuft appeared in her eyes the most elegant young man she had ever seen.

Loki sneered, "Of course, to be happy, they both have to be beautiful and smart. I know it's a fairy tale and doesn't fit reality, but frankly, I'd never read that to my kids."

"Sweetheart," Mobius said softly while stroking Loki's hair soothingly before continuing, "Listen to the end, I think you'll enjoy it more."

Loki harrumphed, but remained silent as Mobius continued, " Some people have said that this was no fairy-gift, but that love created the change. They declare that the princess, when she thought over her lover’s perseverance, patience, good-humour, and discretion, and counted his numerous fine qualities of mind and disposition, saw no longer the deformity of his body or the plainness of his features. However this may be, it is certain that the princess married him; that either she retained her good sense, or he never felt the want of it; and he never again became ugly—or, at least, not in his wife’s eyes, so they both lived very happy until they died. Morality, all is beautiful in those whom we love, and those whom we love are witty and intelligent"

Loki turned on his back and looked at Mobius.

Thor stepped back into the doorway, he was no longer able to see but he heard Loki, "Mobius, it's kind of like the two of us in the end," he chuckled before continuing, "except that we're both princes. But what I mean is that you have seen beyond what I have shown the world."

Thor heard Mobius nod before answering, "And you, Loki, have opened my mind.  So there is nothing to stop us from living very happy until we die."

The only thing Thor heard again before walking away was his little brother's undoubtedly happy laughter.

**********

Thor had not often had the opportunity to see Loki in his Jotun form. He knew that even after all this time it was still an extremely sensitive subject for his brother, so he was surprised to see him like this, sitting on the balcony railing of their suite, looking at the sky.

He was about to join him, when Mobius appeared next to him bringing what appeared to be some refreshments.

When Loki was aware of Mobius' presence, he began to revert to his Aesir form. But Mobius protested, "Loki, you know you don't have to hide from me, Sweetheart. If you want to take on that appearance, I have no problem with it."

And as Loki returned to his Jotun appearance, Mobius put down the tray and approached him, gently touching his face, as if he was used to doing it, knowing that if he lingered too long, the cold sensation would be too much.

Loki said in a voice Thor didn't know, "Do you really not mind touching me while I'm like this?"

Mobius shook his head and replied, "No, the only downside is that I can't touch you or kiss you like I want to, but otherwise I have no problem with this shape. I told you before, I love you, I love everything about you and it's part of you so I love this form too."

Then Mobius sat Loki down on a small bench that was on the balcony, put a pillow on Loki's lap, and lay down next to him resting his head on the pillow then said softly, "And you see, even when you are in this form, it is possible for us to be close."

As he walked away, Thor thought to himself that he would not soon forget his brother's amazed expression.

**********

The next time, Thor had first heard just laughter, as he went to knock on the door of Mobius and Loki's suite.

"No, Mobius! Stop it! You're scratching! I don't want you to kiss me if it scratches like that!"Then Thor heard Mobius reply in a sulky voice, which was quite rare, "Loki..."

"No, no, no your itchy skin will not come in contact with my delicate skin!"

He heard Mobius cough before he replied, "Then would you please shave me?"

Then the two men seemed to be gone, and Thor couldn't help but be curious and slowly opened the door. The living room was empty, but Thor heard voices that seemed to come from a small adjoining room. He knew he shouldn't, but he peeked through the half-open door anyway.

Mobius was sitting with a towel over his shoulders, shaving cream on his cheeks and chin. Loki had rolled up his sleeves, and was holding a razor. He leaned over to Mobius, and with a serious look on his face asked, "Do you trust me?"

Mobius answered firmly, looking him straight in the eye, "Intimately." before stretching his chin forward and closing his eyes.

Thor once again baffled, discreetly turned back and left their suite.

**********

"I'm sorry Mobius. Of course I had no malicious intent. I guess I just wanted to make sure that Loki was happy. It was something I didn't expect to see. I think I wanted to see it for myself, I'm sorry I was kind of a stalker, I-"

Mobius stopped him by putting a hand on his forearm, "It's okay Thor, you don't have to justify yourself. I know Loki's life, his whole life, so I understand perfectly well the need to reassure you, but I can promise you one thing, that I will always do everything to make him happy. That will always be my priority. Loki is the only family I have so I will always take care of him."

Thor nodded visibly moved as a voice echoed behind him, "You see, brother you don't have to worry. My happiness is truly real."

As if to prove what he had just said was true, Loki approached Mobius and put his arm around his waist before kissing him on the cheek.

"This man Thor, is the person who allowed me to change what I thought was my destiny, he saw the good in me, and in doing so I finally believed that I was capable of doing good."

Thor answered softly, "I always knew you were capable of doing good, little brother, but I'm glad you believe it now too."

Then he stepped forward and took the two men in a strong embrace before stepping back and adding, "Mobius, there was only one thing that was wrong with everything you told me before."

Mobius and Loki looked at him in surprise.

Thor added with a gentle smile, "You said Loki was your only family, but that's not true, it's not true anymore. Welcome to the family. We are your family and you are ours now."

_________

Series of Oneshot : Together, for all time, always

Fairy Tale used : Riquet and the tuft, oft underrated or shallowly interpreted. Shaving scene, inspired by Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle shaving scene in CSI

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

[failedintsave]

20 34 or 42 skwistok for kiss asks

[50 Types of Kisses prompts]

I managed to work in 2/3, the other one is really cute too so I may come back and attempt it as well, just couldn't quite get it to work here.

34. Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

42. Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

Demos were due in a few days, and that meant one thing: Toki was bored out of his mind.

Which was why he was currently sprawled out across the emperor-size bed with only a strategically placed cushion obscuring his nudity. For the entire week, all Skwisgaar had done was eat, sleep, play guitar, and neglect Toki. It was unfair, so Toki had come up with his own nefarious scheme to ensnare the Swede by offering himself up like a Yule ribbe. It was only a matter of choosing his pose. Propped alluringly on his elbow? Or better yet, reclined with his hands behind his head, ready to show off his biceps as soon as the object of his affection arrived. There was zero possibility of Skwisgaar resisting such a provocative invitation, and soon Toki would be exactly where he'd wanted to be for the last seventy-two hours. Wrapped up in his lover's arms, smothered in his amorous attentions.

Unless the other man never came to bed.

His own open-mouthed snoring startled him awake, alone and with the lights still on, his modesty pillow toppled to the floor. Toki groped around on the polar bear hide bedspread for his phone to check the time, frowning when the first digit was a two. He'd been asleep for several hours and Skwisgaar still hadn't shown up. He grumbled and swung his feet over the edge of the mattress. If Skwisgaar had passed out in the booth again...

"Gots ta do everything myself." Toki muttered, stepping into his pajama pants and trudging off to collect the absentee blonde.

Fortunately, he hadn't yet worked himself to exhaustion by the time Toki arrived. Skwisgaar sat at the mixing panel, his Explorer cradled in his lap and plugged directly into the soundboard, oversized studio headphones covering his ears and muffling the already quiet patter of Toki's bare footsteps. He didn't react at all when Toki slipped through the door and, feeling mischievous, Toki crept up behind him, silent as a spectre. He covered Skwisgaar's eyes and ducked his head, lavishing a wet kiss against the side of his neck, finishing with a light graze of teeth. His plan to lure Skwisgaar in visually may have been foiled, but there were other methods that worked just as well.

Skwisgaar's hands stilled on his guitar and he sat up straighter in the chair. "Nat'ans?"

"Auhh!" Toki dropped his hands to the chair back and spun the Swede around. Skwisgaar was laughing and Toki glared down at him. "Dats not funny."

"No? I t'oughts it was pretty funnies." He slipped the headset from his ears and let it slide to his shoulders, his hair looping over the band so that it resembled a shiny straw-colored toadstool.

"What are you doing? It's almost three in de mornings."

"What does it look like I ams doink?" Skwisgaar leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms.

Toki mirrored his posture, feeling sulky after Skwisgaar's teasing. This was not how he'd envisioned his evening at all. "I don't knows…"

"Ja dat figures, I bets you wouldn't reczognike works if it bites you on de nose." Swiveling back to the control panel, Skwisgaar touched a button and shrugged one shoulder up to press the headphones close to his ear. He began picking out a series of gallops, chewing the inside of his cheek as he composed. "If only I didn't has to writes and records t'ree different guitars parts, maybe I could gets out of dis room eventchkuallies."

"You sound stressed."

"Huh. Wonder why dat ams?"

"We should gets you somewhere more relaxins. Like into you's bed. Wif me."

From this angle, Toki couldn't see the eye roll, but he knew it must have been a big one. He could practically feel the ground tremor in its wake. Still Skwisgaar continued picking out potential harmonies to accompany the track looping on his headset. Toki was going to have to double down if he wanted to crack through that single-minded focus before it crystallized into an impenetrable wall of perfectionist obsession. They were just demos, that kind of effort could wait for the actual record. Skwisgaar stopped to change tracks and Toki seized his moment.

"Play with meeeee." he keened, draping himself over Skwisgaar like a cape. He tried nibbling at his neck again, normally one his most effective techniques. Skwisgaar's breathing fluttered but he otherwise didn't acknowledge Toki's efforts.

"You don't seems to has brought your guitar." The blonde deadpanned, still fiddling with the levels.

"No but I gots a different instrument for yous right he—"

"Toki."

Skwisgaar still didn't look at him, but Toki could see the apples of his cheeks rise as a smile cracked his previously tired expression. Bingo.

Toki snatched up his fret hand before Skwisgaar could begin playing again and pressed each fingertip to his lips individually. He kissed his palm and the delta of veins at his wrist, making his way up Skwisgaar's arm and pausing to tickle the inside of his elbow with the tip of his tongue. Toki continued trailing higher with a line of soft, sweet caresses until he reached the curve of Skwisgaar's shoulder. He planted his chin there and batted his eyelashes at Skwisgaar's profile.

"It ams late, yous done for tonight."

Skwisgaar let his head rest against the back of the chair and looked at the ceiling, finally closing his eyes in concession.

"Fine." He turned to look at Toki, their noses nearly touching. "Just lets me back up dis session."

"I gots it." Toki pecked him on the mouth and slapped his hand blindly over the panel, his middle finger landing on a big red button amongst the smaller, less-likely widgets.

"Toki, no! Don't—"

The red button depressed, a computerized voice announcing 'session deleted' through the headphones still looped around Skwisgaar's neck.

"Oop."

Skwisgaar's nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing into flinty ice chips. Toki gulped and gave him a sheepish grin.

"Uhhh...so dat offer still stands?"

[simpfortetsu]

you’re not my muse

☾ you and tsukki had been together for quite a while now. you're an aspiring artist and your boyfriend seems to think that most of your artwork is based around him... how is he supposed to react when you tell him he's wrong

pairing(s): gn!reader x tsukishima kei warning(s): none. sulky tsukki for like two(2) seconds genre: fluff againnnn word count: 1301 note: this one's for you @out-of-my-way-extras !! again, the ending isn’t particularly my favorite, but its okayyyy. as always everyone please let me know what you think about this one:)

you were having a block again. that much tsukki could tell. he could tell by the way that you were just sitting there staring at the blank canvas and then picking up the coffee he had just made you, before setting the mug back down. you would do this before starting to run your fingers through your hair and massage your scalp. 'it helps to get the blood flowing in my brain' you told him when you started doing more and more art in his apartment. he had promptly rolled his eyes and told you that he was sure that wasn't how you would get ideas for the work that you were doing. but he massaged your head whenever you asked him to nonetheless.

after watching you for a few moments, he came up behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders. you instinctively leaned back into him, while place your hands down into your lap. you shifted your head to look up at him. "how can i help you good sir?" you inquired jokingly, a small smile making its way across your lips.

he rolled his eyes, a signature reaction that you had become accustomed to, but a smile played across his lips as well. "well, shortcake, i decided to come and help get the blood flowing, since you obviously can't seem to do it right," he teased you, while placing his hands on your head. you shifted back to where he could use his freaking huge hands to massage you. you sighed, still leaning into his touch, while racking your brain on what you should do.

you had a chance at a gala coming up and you wanted at least one of your newer pieces in it. your style was always changing after all.

as you sat there and tsukki continued to massage you, a comfortable silence engulfed you both. it was all a part of the process. this was the prime time for you to think about things that inspired you. whether it was literally something you just happened to glance at in the room. or if it was something you had read in the news. or even if it was something, or someone, in your life. that much tsukishima knew.

he also knew that you could only sit still and stay quiet for so long before you started to complain about how you couldn't think of what to do. "tsukki," you drew out his name in a groan, flopping forward, away from his hands. he shook his head, lowering himself to the ground so that he could sit beside you. instead of saying anything, he chopped the back of your head with his hand. though it did elicit another groan from you, you also sat up to shoot him a small glare. you definitely weren't going to be getting any work done bent over and complaining, that tsukishima knew as well.

"what the hell was that for?" you mumbled, rubbing the area he had just hit. it hadn't really hurt all that much, but you dramatized it in hopes of possibly making your boyfriend feel at least a little bad.

"don't you have a muse or something that you can turn to in times like this?" he questioned. though he tried his best not to seem too cocky about his prospected question, tsukki had a sneaking suspicion that he was exactly that. though you had never said anything about it, he had begun to notice patterns about your artwork ever since the two of you had gotten more serious. that is, when you started to do art in the spare bedroom of his apartment.

he thought he had been imagining at first, and maybe he still was, but there were things that started to stick out to him. like the way that objects around the apartment would end up somehow being reflected in your work. or how there were a lot more portraits of people that wore glasses since you two had been seeing each other. or even how your conversations, or things he was passionate about, had seemed to make their way into your art. it was a subtle thing, but tsukishima kei had always been observant.

you pondered the thought of having a muse. it had been something that many people asked you whenever you were very passionate about one of your pieces. newsflash, that was almost all of them. but having a muse was never something that really concerned you. if you were inspired then that was the end of it. because for you it was always different. you were always learning new ways to express yourself through your art and that was one of the things you loved the most about it.

"ya know. i don't really think so." your response was short, but it sounded as if you were questioning yourself.

"oh. i see." your boyfriend's response seemed off. when you looked away from your canvas, you saw that his usual smirk wasn't there. though it was replaced with his signature scowl, that was something that you rarely ever saw these days. you leaned over and poked his cheek to which he flinched away from you. "what the hell are you doing y/n?" he asked as you reached to do it to him again.

"well what's wrong with you kei?" you had only said that you didn't have a muse. you didn't understand why that would bother him so much.

that was until it dawned on you. when people typically said that they had muses, it was their significant other. or someone important to them. with that realization you broke into a fit of laughter.

"are you dying?" tsukki asked incredulously. one second you were trying to poke his face and the next you looked like you were having a seizure.

"you.. you want to be my muse don't you?" you gasped in between words, trying to catch your breath from you sudden outburst. the look on your boyfriend's face was priceless as he tried his best to hide the fact that he did, in fact, want to be your muse.

"so what if i do?"

"well then i'd tell you you're an idiot," you responded placing a kiss on his cheek. his eyes brows furrowed even further at that. "you know i take my inspiration from everywhere. especially the places where we're together you dork. so no you are not my muse. you, we, us. that's my inspiration.

"of course other things too. but those things don't really hold to the pieces that i've made with the inspiration of us, or you, or something to do with this apartment in mind." you finished your small spiel only to look to see that tsukki had a grin on his face.

"you're an idiot you know that?" he said to you with a laugh, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him.

"now what do you mean?" you whined, your lips forming a small pout.

"you basically just said that i was your muse. or at least our relationship. that "inspiration" behind your art you're talking about. that's literally the definition of muse shortcake." tsukki's response was very to the point, and if not for the smug little smirk that sat upon his lips you would have hit him upside the head like he had done to you earlier.

but instead you only reached up to place a hand on the cheek of your boyfriend, tsukishima kei. your muse, as he so wanted to be called. his leaned into your touch, his lips hovering above yours. "i guess i'll have to change your name in my phone to 'my muse' then," you teased, your lips brushing against his.

he pressed his lips softly against yours before responding. "you better."

[bumblebear30]

Oops

Rita Calhoun x Casey Novak, Established Calvak

A wee comfort fic for these two as I totally love them.

Warnings: mentions of Casey's office attack, migraine / mild medical concern. Side effects of getting older. No smut but alluded to. Happy ending.

Please let me know if you have any other prompts or requests for these two. Happy to try write more for them.

Oops

"You did it again."

The accusing tone made Casey's head snap up from where she was nestled on the couch. She could feel the light crust of dried drool on her cheek where she'd pretty much passed out into the pillow and rubbed at it with the cuff the sweater she was wearing in the hopes that her always immaculately dressed girlfriend wouldn't notice,

"Did what again?" she finally mumbled in response, a heavy pout in place as she scrunched her eyes against the bright light streaming in the apartment windows.

Rita sighed huffily as she perched on the back of the couch and busied herself with finishing taking off her earrings for the day. From there she finally caught sight of the sleep befuddled Casey - the creases of the pillow evidently pressed into her cheek, hair all mussed and cocooned in softest of old sweaters that Rita owned as the redhead obviously tried to drag her lagging brain through what it was she had done wrong this time.

Her expression immediately switched from frustration to concern as she reached out to card her fingers through Casey's hair, the younger woman automatically leaning into it and shifting closer to where Rita was sat,

"You left files that I shouldn't see on the breakfast bar again. We got a place with room for two separate offices for a reason darling."

Casey winced and opened one eye to finally look up at Rita as she apologised,

"Oops, m'sorry babe, I genuinely didn't mean to. I just needed different light. "

Rita tilted her head and gave a small sympathic noise as Casey burrowed her head against the back of the couch,

"Migraine again sweetheart?" Casey nodded groggily where she lay, loathe to commit to any movements that required further effort. Seeing her so forlorn pulled at Rita's heartstrings and she quickly got up and shed her shoes and jacket onto a nearby chair as she came round to the front of the couch to join Casey, "That's the third bad one this month..."

Hearing the familiar sound of Rita settling next to her Casey shifted to lay her head in her girlfriend's lap, wordlessly requesting for the attorney's always slightly cool hand to run across her forehead and circle at her temple as she'd done before by simply tipping her chin just so.

Of course Rita automatically took up the action, also using her free hand to run her nails in soothing circles across Casey's lower back.

The redhead let herself just bask in the attention and comfort. She'd felt instantly a bit better as soon as the scent of Rita's expensive perfume had reached her - always accompanied by the faint smell of coffee, ink and paper, a lawyerly smell if ever there was such a thing. That and the almost pavlovian way her body responded to Rita's touch, practically commanding her to relax with the lightest of pressures, also helped ease the residual pulsating ache at the front of her brain.

Afterwards she'd been sulky for days, which had drawn further unimpressed looks and rolled eyes from Rita. Eventually she'd pulled her head out of her ass and apologised with a gorgeous bouquet and an evening of pampering - cooking Rita's favourites for dinner, making the effort to use the good china and having candles on the table followed by a super indulgent bubble bath for the brunette (the rose petals may have been overboard but she knew Rita secretly adored them.)

She knew where Rita's comment was leading though. They'd had this argument discussion the last time too and she was not wanting a repeat of that general fiasco and to ultimately wallow in her own grumpiness yet again. It was worse because she knew Rita was right, and was only concerned and fussing simply because she loved her. But she had still been in residual pain and exhaustion from the migraine in question as well as licking her wounds from losing the most recent case to her lover too.

All that had only been a week ago, meaning it was less than fourteen days since she'd last had to abandon her work to lie in a darkened room with a cold compress across her eyes and an ice pack wrapped up at the base of her neck. It wasn't sustainable, and she hated being sick all the more because she knew Rita was always more worried than she let on.

She sighed lightly and wriggled her head back so she was pressed more closely into Rita's ridiculously soft silk blouse. The brunette had lifted her hands away as Casey moved but seeing her settle let them resume the gentle caresses. Noting that Casey hadn't immediately started arguing with her Rita decided to press her case once more,

"I just think given that you have such a bad head injury in your past, " Casey couldn't suppress the fearful shiver that ran down her spine at the memories - and lack of them - of her office attack, "that it would be sensible to get a doctor to run some tests and check what is going on."

At still receiving no response from Casey Rita tried to push just that little bit more. She gently ran a finger down the elegant slope of Casey's nose, booping the tip of it which made Casey start and turn onto her back to smile softly up at Rita. Holding her gaze Rita matched her with an indulgent look as she tucked some hair back behind Casey's ear,

"It's just that I'm rather fond of that brain of yours sweetheart, I'd hate to think anything might be wrong." She finished her plea by cupping Casey's chin and running the pad of her thumb over her lips as their positioning meant she couldn't reach to kiss them.

Once again Casey closed her eyes and leaned into the touch,

"And here I thought you were with me for my 'cracking bod', " she grinned as she felt Rita's entire body move as she laughed, "But I know. You're right. As usual." Her admission made Rita smile in victory, Casey's quip pulling another knowing chuckle that rumbled through her,

"Good, I have the number of an excellent neurologist, I'm sure he'll be able to see you by the end of the week."

Casey shot her a look that screamed incredulity,

"He wasn't a client was he? I'm not sure how comfortable I would be with that."

The experienced attorney did laugh at that,

"No, no," she continued to play with Casey's hair, "although he has maybe been an expert witness on several occasions but he's only ever been the utmost professional." she paused for a moment as Casey considered her options. "So what do you say darling, let me call and set up an appointment for you?"

With one last resigned sigh Casey nodded,

"Okay," honestly she was prepared to go through nearly anything if she could stop feeling so accutely crappy whenever these migraines came along, or stop them from happening in the first place.

"But," the smallness of her voice and demeanour, so unlike the usual strong confident persona of the prosecutor, brought out Rita's overprotective side even more, "But what if there is something wrong? Like-"

Deciding to quickly end any spiralling Rita pressed her finger over Casey's lip to hush her,

"Shh, then its better to know and we'll deal with whatever it may be together as best we can."

Suitably mollified, Casey rolled once more so her nose was buried against Rita's stomach, so much so her voice was muffled when she finally spoke,

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried."

"I know darling, but it may just be that you need glasses or something like that now, you know?"

The scandalised and affronted noise that escaped Casey made Rita laugh once again,

"I've always thought you'd look very sexy in glasses you know..."

The low purr of her voice drew an instant reaction from Casey, it always did. Like a siren's call she opened her eyes, feeling better enough to shoot a flirtatious look up at her love as she arched her eyebrow as seductively as she could manage in her prone position,

"Is that so?"

"Hmm hmm," Rita's affirmative humm came as she matched Casey's expression with one of her own, "You could totally pull off the sexy librarian look darling."

"Librarian!?!"

In her offense Casey finally sat up to lightly glare at Rita on a more equal footing. She lightly trailed her hand up Rita's thigh, so overly unsubtle Rita knew she was just winding her up. Still she enjoyed the attention nonetheless. "What if I wanted to go for the sexy lawyer in glasses look? Could I pull that one off too?"

Rita tipped her head to the side as she squinted at Casey, umming and awwing for extra effect,

"I'm sorry love but I think Cabot has got that niche locked down tight."

Casey couldn't help but gasp at the teasing and swat at Rita's thigh in retribution,

"Rude!"

Rita kept cackling with laughter, simply relieved to see Casey's usual firey playfulness was returning,

"Well if you get glasses you can work extra hard to prove me wrong, no?"

With a knowing smile Casey leant forward to press an adoring but chaste kiss to Rita's lips,

"Sounds good to me, thank you for helping me feel better."

Reaching up Rita cupped Casey's chin and drew her face back to her for another kiss. Or two. Maybe three. She just loved how they felt against her own.

"I'm glad I could help. Now do you want to go lock those files away whilst I give the doctor a call? We can then get an order from Chengs if you'd like?"

Casey was already making the effort to stand, holding herself still for several moments to ensure her balance was set after feeling so woozy earlier. Finding herself steady she smiled at Rita once more as she started heading for the kitchen,

"As long as there is lo mein I don't mind!"

A couple of days later Rita answered her ringing cell automatically, not even looking away from her inbox as she barked her usual response,

"Calhoun, who's speaking."

"Hey sweet thing," instantly Rita's entire posture melted, Casey's voice and determination to use ridiculous pet names totally always got her,

"Darling, how'd the appointment go." she'd swung her chair away from the computer screen, her entire focus now on Casey,

"Well you were right."

"I usually am, remind me what I was right about this time?"

"Scans and everything came back clear but I've got glasses to wear now... " Casey paused long enough for Rita to both sigh in relief and laugh,

"Oh is that all?"

"Well, he advised I change to a different type fo light bulb where possible, and definitely to wear glasses when looking at screens as they'll filter that blue light thing? But that and some proper rest and it should all help."

"That's great news sweetheart, I'm so relieved." Truly Rita felt like a knot she hadn't known was there had been released in her chest,

"Yeah, so in the spirit of medical necessity, I think we should schedule a trip up to the house in the Hampton's." Sometimes Casey still would catch herself after saying such a thing. A house in the Hampton's. Their house in the Hamptons. Quite ridiculous.

Rita chuckled but instantly swept round to open their shared calendar to look for potential timings,

"An excellent idea darling, I could even ask Danielle to get the boat ready for us? I know you love to play at being Captain."

"Please, you just want to lounge about in your bikini in front of me don't you."

"Well with your new glasses we'll have to test how much better you can see me. I do love putting on a show for you."

The flirtation made Casey gulp, images of Rita enjoying herself nearly overwhelming her,

"You always do have the best ideas, I propose we do lots of testing."

"For medical necessity?" Rita's smirk was clear even though Casey couldn't see her face,

"Exactly, you always know how to take the best care of me baby..."