#how they could not forsake him ;—; how easy it would be to do that

[impossible-rat-babies]

in a heap of eyrie and estinien feelings don’t mind me

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Lil bit of Pre-K angst? comin right up!! (i don't know what im doing lol??? a short little one part of a dibble dabble, mentions of injury, car accidents, drunk driving death,

It was a promise.

He had knelt down to Olivers level, telling him that he would come back to him. He told the sobbing child that nothing would happen to him, he told Oliver that he would be fine.

Why didn't he think about Oliver?

How could he have not thought about Oliver?

How could he have not worried about you?

The call had knocked the wind out of him, he didn't even realize he was the emergency contact on Oliver's list beside you. The mission wasn't even dangerous it was stupid- a conference in a city a few towns over and he had...

"Is this a.. Mister Simon Riley?"

Simon looks up from the file he had been reading over, seeing Kyle and Johnny's eyes look up at him from the sudden stiffening of his posture.

"Yeah?"

"Mister Riley, unfortunately your wife and son-"

"M-my what?"

If his blood wasn't cold enough it certainly was when he heard your name followed by Oliver's, and he swore that everything began to slow. His feet where moving on their own, leaving Johnny and the team without an answer.

Everything was in slow motion, expect him.

a four-hour drive cut into one and a half. Two police cars tried to chase him on the freeway but he didn't care, easy to lose.

He had to pry the details out of the nurse, yet all she would simply say is that it was a group of teenagers 'pre-gaming' for a party, club hopping- and it was a Friday and fridays are when you take Oliver to his swimming lessons and then go get ice cream at the place down town-

She said you and Oliver were lucky to be alive, not quite stable, and that 'luckily' no one else was hurt.

Simon Riley was many things, he had cried enough times to make anyone pity him. Nor was he religious, for no God would forsake him as cruelly as he had been.

Yet that night, he cried tears and prayed to whatever God there was for a miracle.

(Anyway. that's it <<<3 I hope that works because I'm not super used to writing sad stuff, but it was fun to do! Feed back and comments make my day!)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I wanna hear your head canons about Gaz (sfw or nsfw, or both,what ever you want), you write him so well 😩

—In His Head

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of his SFW and NSFW quirks.] ❞

This man is literally the only one in the One-Four-One I could see having/keeping a long-term relationship without much challenge and/or angst. Johnny’s a close second, but Kyle takes the cake because I love him and I’m biased towards men with brown eyes.

Gaz strikes me as incredibly attentive and kind—especially to someone he loves and cares about in more than a friendly way. He’s a breakfast-in-bed type of boyfriend even if he’s tired. Long date nights that leave you both laughing and losing track of time until it’s late at night and you have to get back to your flat before the sun comes up. I’m talking fancy/casual/anything that he feels you emulate at the time of going out. 

You want to dress up? He’s already called for a reservation at the expensive restaurant down the street. You’re tired from work but want to do something with him? An easy dinner is already cooked and a movie is playing on the telly—your favorite drink is in your hand before you can slip off your shoes near the door.

Gaz has that boyish charm that I talk about often. He’ll make you laugh, gasp, and wheeze even when you think you can’t. 

That isn’t to say he’s never serious, because he is. 

When the weight becomes too much, he’s by your side when he’s off from deployments. He pulls you into one of those tight and all-consuming hugs, head on top of yours and lightly rocking you back and forth while you cry it out. Whispering into your scalp and rubbing his hand up and down your spine. Gaz breathes you down, concern tight in his face and his jaw clenched to restrain the flood of what he wants to say—you only need him to hold you and tell you things are going to be okay, so that’s what he does.

NSFW-wise, he’s just as attentive. He’s not inexperienced, either—he knows how to please you and has no trouble forsaking his painful hard-on just to get you off as many times as it takes with his fingers/mouth. 

Personally, I think he has an oral fixation. Loves watching you writhe above him as he goes down on you, or, heaven forbid he gets you to sit on his face. Goes absolutely feral as his face gets drenched and he feels your nails on his scalp. Moans/groans/grunts unabashedly as his hands grip your thighs and ass, letting your hips jump and tighten around him. 

Does not care if you’re worried about your weight. 

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t want it, Love.”

Make him go lightheaded. He’s begging you. 

Gaz is a switch—top, bottom, doesn’t matter, he’s making you feel good and you’re making him feel amazing so it doesn’t bother him if you suddenly shove him over and climb on top mid-fuck. His hands snap and help you ride him, head tilting back into the pillow and mouth opening in breathless groans. 

I don’t see him as incredibly into rough sex—he would never hurt you, and anything that involves that would make him nervous about your safety. Very light breathplay is alright, but he’s not going to apply more pressure than a light squeeze. Gets upset if he finds any marks beyond hickeys on you—kisses them and mutters apologies into your skin as he continues rutting into you softly. 

Very into overstimulation and edging on both parts. 

Bring him to tears and leave him wanting you until he’s physically shaking and trying to grab at himself even as he’s hissing at the slight sizzles of pain. 

But, above all of that, he always wants to see your eyes while he’s pounding into you—missionary is his go-to until you decide you want to move/change/etc. The man just likes making sure you’re enjoying yourself, and that in and of itself helps get him off. Moan for him, be as loud as you want, it’s like a present as your eyes go all glossy and pleasure-drunk.

Will tease you about it though. I don’t make the rules.

“That good, Love? Yeah? Fuckin’ hell, hear that down there? Dripin’ for me—c’mon let me hear it, then. Let me hear those sounds from that pretty mouth. There we are, just like that. No need to be shy.”

Just slam your lips to his to shut him up, he can’t resist you—it’ll even make him move a bit faster.

All and all 10/10 boyfriend/husband material if you can deal with him being away for long periods of time for deployments. 

No doubt he always makes it up to you on leave.

[blues824]

✨️Hello✨️

I believe you know what I'm requesting :)) anyways

Happy new year!!

Hell yes I do. A marriage proposal from Sebek.

Gender-neutral reader

Sebek Zigvolt

What was the point of elaborate plans if you could ruin them so easily because of an impulse? An inescapable urge? An act that was done despite having such an elaborate plan.

He had an entire plan to ask you to be his for eternity. To ask you to grow old alongside him. To ask you to be the person he returns home to when he places down the mantle of guard and soldier to take up the mantle of ‘husband’.

Yes, he was going to propose.

A picnic in the woods, fairy-lights strung up to make the scene feel a bit more romantic. This was all with both Lilia, Silver, and even Waka-sama’s help. He would have wined and dined you, reciting a poem he had carefully crafted, before pulling out the ring at the end, getting on his knee, and asking if you would marry him.

Why did you have to be the way that you are?

It was so hard yet so easy to just coexist with you. He could be his true self around you. You’ve even picked up his favorite book so that conversation would never cease between the two of you. However, it made him nervous that he could mess it all up at any given point.

This was his first time in a relationship, and it was serious. I mean, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, if you would have him. He wanted to make sure that the moment was perfect, tailored to both you and him.

However, it was on the way there where he popped the question. He was leading you by your hand when you made a joke. It was a simple joke about how you’ve blindly trusted everyone since you came to Twisted Wonderland, and he opened his mouth before he could think about it.

“If you marry me, then you won’t be trusting blindly anymore. Not if I can help it,” He didn’t register what he said until you stopped in your tracks.

“Is that an official proposal, Sebek Zigvolt?” You asked quietly. That’s when it hit him like a punch to the face.

“W-Would you want it to be?” Since when did he start stuttering? He was really messing this up. However, as you looked into his eyes with nothing but pure love and adoration, he found himself losing the embarrassment.

“...Yes, I would,” You said, going to wrap your arms around him, but he pushed you away a little. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, kneeling down on the ground and looking up to you as he opened the box up to reveal a ring.

Tears welled up in your eyes, a few slipping down, a smile gracing your lips. You could tell that Sebek was nervous with how he had tears in his eyes as well.

“Y/N, I originally intended to serenade you with a poem that I had created for you, as well as lead you to a picnic date that I had assistance in assembling. However, it seems as though you know how to break me down and make me toss away any plans. Which is why I am asking you now. Will you marry me?”

A brief moment of silence took over… even the birds went quiet. Sebek’s heart was pounding against his ribcage, waiting for your answer. Then, you nodded your head, reaching your hand out to him as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

“I’m sorry I ruined your plans, darling,” You giggled through sobs, finally being able to wrap your arms around his neck as he stood up. His hands went to your waist.

“For you, I would gladly forsake every plan and itinerary just to be with you, for your presence is the most enchanting destination I could ever hope to reach,” The emotions were too much for you, so you just pulled him into a kiss, hoping to convey all those unsaid emotions. He seemed to get the message, leaning forward as he kissed you back to put you in a small dip.

Both of you were excited to see what fate had in store for you next.

[stars-interlude]

Even a worm will turn

a/n: YAYYYY FINALL PART (dw all 3 parts are on here so it’s the full story) ngl xiao is kinda a bully at the end of this 😭

pairings: prince!xiao X princess!reader

Tags: medieval, Fem!reader, oral fem receiving, dom to sub reader

symbiosis; having an arranged marriage was something you’ve been dreading for years as a princess then you see the man your supposed to make new heirs with and could he really be that bad?

It was a bitter day for the bride as you stood next to your soon-be husband. You could feel her father's glare burning on your back, a sharp reminder of the fate that was chosen for you. The prince seemed like a handsome man, but it was all too easy to see the anguish in his heart, like a storm brewing far on the horizon. As the tension in the air rises you couldn’t help but feel like you were about to be pushed off a cliff by your father after your vows were exchnaged. Falling into a deep darkness “Xiao do you take [name] as your wife to live together in holy matrimony to love her, honor her, comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all other, for as long as you both shall live?” Xiao responded swiftly “I do” the Notary soon said the somewhat similar words to you but none of it really mattered because you never loved Xiao.. Soon after the Wedding you talk to your father “I never wanted to do this! tell me why father, why did i have to marry this prince?!” “My dear do not fret you will not be in this God forsaken marriage for long, we just need you to make the prince open up and while your in his kingdom you’ll get his father’s warfare plans and we can destroy their kingdom.” When you heard this plan come out your father’s mouth you were in a way shocked. Not only were you allies with this kingdom so it made no sense why your father would try to hurt them but looking at the riches and power in the palm of your hand was just… you were thinking of a word.. It was just exhilarating.

———————————————————————

Of course you agreed to your father but this plan was easier said than done. “Oh Xiao shall we go to your kingdom? I would love to see the customs there” First you had to find a reason to be in your husband’s palace in the first place. “Hm.. It doesn’t take much long just a few hours or so. So I don’t see why not.” Packing your stuff with Xiao was quite easy you only brought a few changes of clothes, a night gown and undergarments of course. As you stepped in the carriage with your husband you thought of your mother she taught you many things like how to cook some foods and many other things but your favorite food thing she taught you was common phrases “Even a worm will turn. It’s an expression used to convey the message that even the meekest or most docile of creatures will retaliate or seek revenge if pushed too far. Now if someone pushes you, you can always tell me and i’ll have them dealt with.” Your mother kissed your forehead and went back to showing you how to cook. The carriage came to a sudden stop, you were so engrossed in thought that it made you forget about how long this trip was supposed to take. “Darling shall we go?” Xiao asked “we shall” you chuckled to yourself. Xiao then helped you out as you took his hand and looked into his eyes you felt something spark within but you didn’t know what it was. Was it love.. No it can’t be. you thought to yourself.

———————————————————————

When you went into the palace of Xiao’s kingdom it was as luxurious as you thought it would be. Artwork on the walls it was anything you could’ve dreamed of. “This will be your room” Xiao then showed you a beautiful bedroom “wouldn’t we be sleeping together?” Xiao’s cheeks turned a bright pink “well i suppose so” you put on a smile and gave Xiao a kiss on the cheek making him more flustered than he already was. “We are married after all” after you got into your night gown you saw xiao and he looked better than you thought his hair falling on his face beautifully and the pajamas he was wearing fit just right. “Xiao.. you look perfect” he looked at you like you said something out the ordinary “As do you..?” He said this more like a question than a statement. You then walked closer to him “well yesterday was our wedding night but we didn’t do much how about you make it up to me.. what do you think hun?”

———————————————————————

you walked closer to you husband then you already were, then you pulled him into a deep kiss as the kiss got deeper he pulled you into his lap. you could feel his cock getting harder under your cunt as you two kissed n’ grinded, he placed his hands on your hips “getting bold, are we?” you said after feeling his hands. he kissed down your neck and his hand slowly moved up your nightgown feeling your chest and pulling at your nipples. you let out a soft moan “xiao..” Xiao's lips curved into a smirk as he heard you moan his name. He continued placing kisses down your neck, his hands roaming your body "You like that?" he whispered against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “mhmm love it” you could feel yourself slipping away from your dominant attitude. “you always act so tough, i know you’re soft on the inside” Xiao said this as he gripped your hips tighter enough to bruise later. He picked you up bridal style and placed you on the bed you two were supposed to share for the night. instead of his hands going up your body he goes down and hooks his finger on the band of your panties, he looks at you before he goes and feels your cunt “so wet from just kissing? how dirty..” you let out a soft whimper “you had so much to say, what happened where’d that bold attitude go?” xiao then pulled down your panties “ ‘m not dirty!” he slipped two fingers in your cunt “if you weren’t dirty you wouldn’t be moving your hips when i thrust my fingers in you” you didn’t even notice that you were moving. you quickly covered your face after he said that. Xiao pulled out his fingers and you felt empty until you felt his breath on your cunt, he kissed your clit before he started fingering your pussy. you gripped onto xiao’s hair cause of the waves of pleasure going through your body. Maybe your father’s plan could wait a little longer..

a/n: i felt like i should quickly finish this before i start doing all the requests i got WHICH IM SOOO HAPPY ABTT TYY FOR ALL OF THEMMMMM

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

"This isn't quite how our wedding started last time. All this ritual feels silly."

Abe grasped onto his husband's arm as they led themselves towards their waiting son. They'd been supplied formal robes for the ceremony as well as the same head adornments they'd been given years ago. Which made sense when Abe thought about it. This wasn't a regular wedding where fashions changed over time. This ritual had been in practice for centuries, millenia even. Very little changed when it came to deep magic.

His previous worries seemed to lift while he was holding onto Roman. This wasn't too different from a typical wedding so far, and Roman seemed confident enough.

Theo was waiting for them between a maze of magic circles and lines. His face looked nervous, just like it did before an important exam, and Roman fought the urge to break the ritual and tell him that he was doing a great job so far. His heart swelled with pride, seeing how far Theo had come with his studies. This was what Theo had been made to do and he was doing it flawlessly.

"Roman Bellamy. Abraham Helios, second of that name. Sorry- Romanus Bellamy. Abraham Helios, second of that name," Theo began, his nerves getting the better of him. There were a few important words that had to be said just right and messing up their true names was failing the easy parts of his role. "You come to be joined together in the ways of our ancestors?"

Both of his parents said yes, allowing Theo to move on.

From a side room, the sovereign and another demon that neither Roman or Abe recognized entered the room, taking places on either side of Theo. The two demons began chanting in Latin, bowing rhythmically in tune. The magic circles that stood nearest to them lit up in unison and the grooms noticed the air around them grow thicker as magic crackled between them.

Theo uttered some mangled Latin, while the two demons behind him continued their chanting and bowing.

"Do you pledge to pool your magic together for the rest of all time?" Two more yeses followed. "Do you pledge to remove half of your heart as sacrifice to the other?"

Theo's parents looked worriedly at their son, unsure if they were allowed to speak to question whether that pledge was going to be literal. Theo shook his head quickly, completely understanding their reluctance. It wasn't like they had been allowed to hold a practice session before the Bellamys had arrived.

"Yes," Roman and Abe said in unison, still looking uncomfortable with the vow.

"Will you forever share one heart and one soul, forsaking all others under exteme demonic penalty?"

"Yes."

Abe wasn't sure about what penalty he was agreeing to, but stopping the ritual to ask for clarification didn't seem to be an option. From his history with demonic contracts, Abe figured that it was probably something horrible. He'd have to ask his lawyer discreetly at their next family gathering.

Roman made the vow without hesitation. His future was with Abe. Mistakes like Ulyssa would never happen again; it hurt too much to even consider causing the heartbreak he'd seen on Abe's face when he found out about the affair. Even still, Roman doubted that mere adultery could trigger this penalty. So far, the ceremony seemed to be geared towards the sharing of power and hearts, not a bed.

"Then stand on your individual circles and prepare to become one."

Theo gestured towards two circles drawn on the floor, and his parents obediently complied.

Theo closed his eyes and began to summon the power he needed to complete the ritual. Each of his parents' energies was familiar to him; combining them together seemed like basic magic. Beyond basic even. Outside of memorizing the correct words, Theo probably could have bound his parents together as a child.

But that was when his magic had been relatively stable. These days, it lashed out in every direction, refusing to stay bound to Theo. In addition to that, Theo could feel the powerful hum of energy pour through him from the sovereign and her companion. Their chanting had only grown louder, and Theo fumbled slightly, trying to process such overwhelming power while balancing his own power. It would have been easy for Saren to skim power from a ceremony like this when Theo was too young to know the difference. Perhaps she had arrived today to help, hoping that she could still sneak some while monitoring Theo's abilities, but Theo had studied for years to repel would be attackers. Whatever she was gaining from this ceremony, it wasn't worth the effort she was investing.

A sharp pain brought Theo to his knees. The candles surrounding him began to flicker wildly.

"Dammit!" Another stab of pain struck as control slipped through Theo's fingers. It was nothing malicious from the sovereign like he'd expect. No, this problem was all on him.

The crystal in the ring on his finger flashed weakly, calling out to the warlock Theo had accidentally bound himself to. It was futile, of course, since none of Theo's magic had ever been able to reach Adam from this place. It still called all the same, looking for the balance and stability he needed, but finding nothing.

Both Roman and Abe collapsed onto the floor, completely unresponsive. It was just like watching Adam crumple to the ground at school all over again.

Blood pooled between his parents, though Theo couldn't pinpoint whose it was or where it had come from. Were his parents in danger? Could someone intervene and stop Theo like Evren and Master Maricourt had before? Theo couldn't imagine facing his siblings or grandmother and having to confess to killing his parents because he couldn't control his own abilities.

Why was he even sent to this school? Why did he ever think that he could lead a normal life? Nothing ever changed. At least being this isolated from Adam probably meant that he would be protected from Theo's latest screw up. Theo could never go home if there was a possibility of him hurting Adam again with his carelessness. He could never go home if he had to bury his parents. If he couldn't get control of himself, he would never go home again. He didn't deserve to put the lives of his loved ones at risk.

Theodosius. Let go. Let go of this power.

Theo recognized the voice as the sovereign's, but he couldn't do as she asked. Power built inside of him as he tried to keep control over his parents' energy while also attempting to merge them. It was only when it was too late that Theo realized the flaw in this plan. His broken curse was tied to his parents. By their shared blood, the curse rebounded inside of him, building power infinitely until Theo nearly burst. He had always been a dangerous choice to complete the ceremony and now they were suffering because of his lack of foresight.

Let go. Give your burden to me.

Theo could feel tendrils of power creep into his mind, urging him again to release this immense power for the sovereign to deal with. That wasn't going to happen. Had the sovereign appeared today just to take control of some of the immense energy Theo was processing, or had she come innocently enough to support her protégé and was only trying to help him with her demand? It didn't matter either way. Theo would happily explode before he gave away anything of his parents.

The sovereign was surprisingly easy to ignore. She was throwing a large amount of energy into the ceremony, but it felt weak. Just like a school project that Theo had forgotten about and slapped together in a hurry. This couldn't be her full strength. If it was, she was barely stronger than some of his teachers at school. Was this the level of power it took to be sovereign? If so, Theo could match it without breaking a sweat. No wonder she kept such a careful eye on him.

"Sometimes I hate being right. God damned demons and their pride. Never ask a demon to do a god's work. They're going to turn this place into a smoking crater in five minutes."

Lukas scowled at the scene before them, completely validated for making the trip. Death had said to give the demons the benefit of the doubt, but he was retired, and clearly his instincts were becoming dulled.

They looked at the poor little hybrid, who was now contorted with pain, about to lose control over himself, potentially shattering his parents' spirits when he did.

"They should just make me sovereign at this point," Lukas grumbled to themselves. "Let's clean up more demonic messes, I guess. No one else will."

[duskpeak]

hellooo🫶

i love the way you detail each character it’s so realistic! would it be possible to request a zoro headcannon and how they would be in a relationship??

thank you🥰

-🌼🌼

Sorry for the long ass time it took to do this, my computer screen stopped working and I sure as hell am not using my school computer to write fanfic😭😭😭 anyway hope you enjoy!!

(SFW) Zoro Relationship Headcannons

- So Zoro is not a cold man, he loves his nakama and his partner is no exception.

- He can be a little oblivious at times especially outside of battle but honestly if his partner is part of the crew he’d probably just ask them to spar when trying to figure out what’s wrong (the man is terrible at words but give him the slightest taste of a physical fight he’ll have unlocked the secrets of the world).

- Could never say a bad thing about his partner ever, this man is absolutely whipped

- there are only three things that could keep him from his partner 1. His captain, Luffy’s orders come first no matter what and everyone on the crew knows and trusts him with that 2. His dream, Zoro will fight god for the people important to him ESPECIALLY his partner but if something were to interfere with him achieving his dream then he won’t be able to stay 3. Kuina’s sword, this is Zoro’s most valuable possession. Sure he loves and takes very good care of all of his swords but that one is special, this one is honestly a tossup depending on how long he’s been with the straw hats or with his partner. If it’s early on he’d forsake everything to save/find that sword but if it’s post time skip I think he’d go to save his crew first then find her sword later, it’s non-negotiable though he WILL find it and won’t stop until he does.

- on the topic of number 2 though he is adamant on the fact that he won’t die for his partner but he routinely throws himself in the way to protect both them and his nakama (he takes the hit because he doesn’t want them getting hurt and he “won’t die until he becomes the strongest so nothing can kill me” if push came to shove though he’d chance a fatal wound for his partner any day but this goes for his nakama too

- honestly there’s not a whole lot different with how he treats his partner from his nakama, you’re all important to him so he doesn’t really see a reason to do anything different

- however, his partner does get special privileges, free reign to touch him whenever they want, naps with him, hold his swords, kisses

- unfortunately for Zoro his partner probably takes advantage of those privileges, especially the first one and when I tell you this man gets SO red it looks like he got sunburn

- embarrassing him is so easy it’s unreal especially in the beginning, one little kiss on the cheek and his blush is as red as Shanks’s hair but he mellows out as the relationship goes on

- casual kisses and intimacy are frequent once he’s comfortable, he’s just so soft for his partner and how could he deny them the affection he so freely wishes to give.

- not a huge fan of pda but what are you gonna do out at sea on a ship full of people (the sunny is big but is there really anywhere that’s actually private for any long period of time?) he stops minding it around the crew but he hopes and prays his partner doesn’t pull anything on an island or when they’re hanging out with another crew.

This is probably part one of this, zoro is popular and this isn’t nearly the amount of ideas I have about this man I’m just hella tired and nearly about to pass out writing this. Anyway enjoy!! And thank you for the request feel free to do so again. I’m gonna work on getting a masterlist and a list of characters I’ll write for together if I can figure it out on my phone

[bogbees]

this was the initial ending for forsake me not I wrote back in like, November and now has literally nothing to do with the actual ending besides like, the end goal, so i personally wouldn't call it a spoiler since we all expected this outcome.

im nearly done the actual chapter!

He spies the yellow haired boy, and smiles wide, his plan is going into motion.

*

Tanjiro hides his face by ducking his head,

"The one I like might be stupid…" he sighs, not looking up from the table, "what am I going to do about Rengoku-san…"

Kyojuro's eyes go wide. Surely it wasn't going to be this easy.

"Am I now," Kyojuro grins as he sits down next to Tanjiro.

Tanjiro doesn't move for a moment, clearly confused by how the scents and sounds aren't matching up. He then rolls his head to face him, Kyojuro smiles wide at his confused face, and laughs as he jumps off the table like a whip, his eyes wide, "Rengoku-san!" he cries out in utter disbelief.

"Yes," he nods, grinning, absolutely ecstatic.

Tanjiro looks absolutely frantic, eyes blown out, eyebrows furrowed, "why do you have Zenitsu's haori—"

"He lost it. I am on my way to find him, and thought you'd know!" He smiles, lying through his teeth, delighting in the way Tanjiro frowns after discreetly sniffing the air, catching him in the act immediately.

"But!" he says way too loudly even for his own ears, "I'm much more interested in why you think I'm stupid!"

"I, I didn't!" Tanjiro's face is red as the apricot blooms, his eyes "I said the one I like is—"

Kyojuro smiles, nods at him, feeling giddy.

"I said—" he tries again, nerves absolutely wrecked.

"The one you like! The one who's strong and kind! Cute with a nice smile! Me!"

Tanjiro's eyes are impossibly big. Kyojuro thinks he might cry, with how his lips seem to wobble.

"It's true," Tanjiro says.

Kyojuro feels like he will truly combust.

"Good!" He shouts, way too excited to contain himself any longer. Way too excited to not let Tanjiro know he loves him.

"The forget-me-nots were for you!" he announces, "every time I thought about how much I love you, they would climb up my throat to replace my words, my feelings of true love!"

"That's—"

"Foolish! Indeed!"

"No! No! I mean to say I know!"

Kyojuro's excitement comes to a sudden halt. He hums loudly, eyes wide in shock.

"When you— when we slept, um, together, you coughed, I think it woke me up, I heard you tell me you love me…"

Kyojuro's face feels hot, hotter than any blaze he's encountered.

"And, I, um, have been trying to tell you."

Kyojuro hums loudly and closes his eyes, his cheeks hurt from the force of his smile. He feels incredibly foolish, "so that's why you think I'm stupid!"

"Ah, no! Just, um, well, when I tried to tell you I felt the same, I didn't know how to do it and the advice I got might not have been the best."

Kyojuro is reminded of the few moments between them over the last week, when they nearly kissed under the moon, when they spared,

Tanjiro slumps to his knees, exhaling a great sigh, he begins to cry, "I was so ready to propose first!"

Kyojuro's eyes widen, his smile reaches ear to ear, his blush grows in intensity, overwhelmed to hear that, he hums.

"Ahhh, I even, after the night, when you told me you couldn't wait to see me, I ran back all the way to your house, and asked for your father's permission to marry you," he's rubbing his eyes free of tears, smiling brightly.

Kuojuro can't believe his ears. His eyes can only confirm it. He reaches out to touch Tanjiro's cheeks, he helps him wipe away his tears, softly smiling, "did you!" he laughs, his heart caught in his throat.

"I did! I was so nervous! But I really wanted his approval! Because I love you so much!"

Kyojuro can't resist the urge this time. He envelopes Tanjiro in his arms, his chest shuddering as he quietly laughs, at the absurdity of the turn of events.

"And I love you so much!" he says, squeezing Tanjiro, listening to him laugh, he doesn't think it could get better than this.

Eventually they relax, content to just be in another's arms.

"Ah, I wish I didn't know…"

"Know what, my dear?"

Tanjiro's face flushes red upon hearing the term of endearment, but it doesn't help his mood, "know that you were considering surgery."

"Oh, you were right! I didn't want surgery. I didn't think it'd have been pleasant to remember the intensity of my feelings yet feel nothing. I suppose those feelings might have been sparked and became a great blaze of passion once more, but they do say you never feel the same after the roots are surgically removed! It was more frightening than any demon I've ever faced!"

"Then—"

"It was you! Your passionate speech regarding it! Remember when I collapsed? It was because I wanted to kiss you!"

Tanjiro hides his red, red, red face behind his hands, "I thought I was imagining things!"

Kuojuro hums,

[thegeminisage]

ok! it's time for a ds9 update. last night we squeezed in "move along home" and "the nagus."

move along home (ds9):

i am Informed this is a divisive episode but honestly i had fun w it!!

nice 2 see jake always. every time jake is on screen w his dad sisko my best friend sisko get to exude good dad energy. love that.

like. please. he's gonna give jake the talk? at 14??? 14 is too late. he knows everything. also lmao the fact that nog there ferengi where women don't wear clothes told him everything. i'm choosing to ignore my annoyance with ferengis as a whole and find that funny because of sisko's reaction

reasonably funny antics between quark and odo here. i am getting a little tired of odo not getting anything to do besides flirt with quark, but then i have to remind myself that odo had an episode all to himself quite literally six episodes ago, it's just our insane watch order + bad batch and natla coming out that makes it feel longer to me

quark like screaming on his knees begging not to have to put someone to death when nbody was gonna die anyway was actually really funny, but i do like the nuance in his kneejerk reaction when he found out the pieces were people, which was to forsake pride and ask odo to play for him. he could have gotten defensive for the bit, which he did do later, but his first reaction was to be scared which is like completely normal and went a long way towards humanizing him in an otherwise VERY silly episode

my favorite moment of this episode, besides the part where they hotboxed the shap, was when those little balls of light were coming towards them and sisko was like FIND COVER and julian bashir, instead of finding cover, stood directly aainst the wall they were aiming at, ass first. and then died. i want that twink obliterated.png

the nagus (ds9):

thank you to whomstever warned me about this episode

it was not good and it did suck bad. i think this was the first real dud ds9 gave us (i'm not counting the q one cuz that was basically a tng episode in disguise). i feel like it would be sooo easy to walk back some of the really awful elements of the ferengi but instead of doing that we have chosen to crank them up to 11. sexism, antisemitism, etc etc...

my other problem is that. and before anyone gets mad i have a touch of faceblindness. I CANNOT TELL THOSE FERENGI APART. they gave two of the ferengi the same nose and i was totally lost trying to follow the plot.

quark holding the idiot ball. he's dumb in his own way because everyone on that space station is using their last brain cell but he's also very shrewd. so it just felt off. and again odo had nothing to do except flirt with him but that's a me problem

BUGS FOR DINNER. i hated this episode in more ways than one

THAT SAID. we finally got to see o'brien again! and shockingly i really really really really liked the b plot

i did go blind with rage when nog got pulled out of school. yes. but the rest of it.

first of all it's really funny that jake is running around with nog all the time and their families are both going DON'T!!! and sisko is like Oh No My Son Has Discovered Girls when there is every evidence he is even now discovering boys

SECONDLY sisko reminding o'brien that one day his adorable little three year old will be 14 and the light leaving o'brien's eyes

but my favorite part is that jake wasn't being late to curfew because he's a bad kid or falling under a bad influence. he's a GOOD kid doing an AWESOME thing. idk, it was really sweet that like, even when sisko was like "yeah racism's bad but with ferengi it's different" jake was like "is it? :/" and then went right on teaching his buddy how to read. and now he's earned dad's permission to hang out with nog finally. it was a fun little subplot that i didn't realize was going anywhere and then it did. a very pleasant surprise and kept the episode from being a complete drag.

also, dax coming it and daintily sampling sisko's soup or whatever, then deftly getting rid of sisko so she could help herself to a giant heap lmao. queen

anyway, even though that's definitely been the worst ds9 ep so far, it wasn't NEARLY as bad as some of tng's duds. i'm thinking specifically of "code of honor," "violations," etc. like it could have been so much worse. i'm not going to delude myself into thinking we're past all the clunkers just yet, but i was still expecting a solid hour of agony and what i got was not that. not good by any means but not tng. whew!

TONIGHT: "starship mine" and "lessons" from tng. thots and prayers🙏

[proxylynn]

Lynsie and Adam headcanon lore

[I might draw this out one day, but in case I don't, there's this scene I thought up as to why Adam and Lynsie are cool despite all red signs pointing at why they shouldn't be friends.

Adam, looking to be rid of boredom and remembering "that dragon chick was pretty chill", hits Lynsie up for some hang time and maybe score. Lynsie accepts out of the reasoning that it would be showing goodwill to Heaven and Adam seemed easy to get info out of if his ego was stroked even slightly. So already, both are trying to use each other in personal power plays.

What changes is, at some point during the evening, they get to talking and things get slightly heated and she slips out a line that gets his attention. She begrudgingly expounds when he pesters her about it...explaining her past.

"I envy you, you know. You were made, given the world, and allowed to keep it. When I was created, the world was mine but it was empty. I had no one. All there was was the dirt I walked upon, the air I soared through, and the water I submerged in. I existed for less than a day, yet it was meaningless and hollow. Then, without warning or reason, it was all taken away. They shoved me into a pit and expected me to fade away. Like I was a mistake. A mistake they wanted to forget making. But...But they did make me. I'm here. There had to be a reason for my being. So why? What did I do wrong? Why did they forsake me?"

Her getting unintentionally emotional like this triggers flashbacks in Adam. How he was made in Eden with a partner that was his own but she left him. He gets a second partner who is made for him and with part of him, yet even she would leave him. They never gave him a real reason for this abandonment that made sense to him. How could they not want to be with him? They were made for him! So why...Why did they leave him? What did he do that was so wrong? Why was he alone? It gets to him and pierces through his walls with uncomfortable ease and he crumbles along with her.

"Fuck...Fuck! Why did you have to say stupid shit like that?! Dumb bitch! Fuck! Damn it! *sniffles* Damn it..."

They end up bawling for a good while, venting out pain long held. By the night's end, there's a new level of respect between them. Neither going for goals they sought before and just letting this be a normal thing. Now they meet up every now and then to "go drinking" but it's really just them being buds and talking shit about their issues in a weirdly therapeutic way. They are both catty bitches and frat bros rolled in one when together. It's cute.

Lute is highly suspicious of these moments when he pulls a disappearing act to be at Lynsie's place. I imagine him getting busted by Lute after he returns home late and she's been waiting there all night like a crazy bitch on a stakeout to chew him out for being irresponsible.]

[marmeegle]

Lillimae Evans is a Love-Sick Fool (fic)

can YOU handle a messy one sided lesbian pining fic ? *not clickbait*

authors note: hello lillimae lives in my head rent free she's such a creature she can never win she's hopelessly in love im obsessed with her. here's a post-tnp draft of her navigating life after leaving raaian with her best friend that she kinda loves but also drugged a few times and therefore is on remarkably poor terms with who has a new hot bf that she wishes were her but she also kinda wants to smash

i said it was messy so like. click if you're down keep scrolling if you arent

Lillimae can’t tell you when she fell in love. She thinks it must have been during the Bloom, because she can remember really wanting to kiss Naivara during the light show. The only reason she didn’t was because she could hear Killian in the back of her mind: girls don’t kiss. 

There were some girls who kissed in town, but Lily saw the way folks treated them. The things people said. A woman’s job is to have kids, and so on. Depriving the town of people, choosing not to contribute, forsaking the forefathers. 

So Lily decided she could probably live without kissing Naivara, and decided to earn her keep kissing boys. Easy money. In theory. In reality the ‘boys’ were rude and strong and they got a kick out of hurting her. But it only happened like, three times a week. The four other days were a dream. 

Naivara, Naivara, Naivara.

Lily did her best to be normal. To be a decent roommate. To clean and help around the house and take out garbage. Lily cooked and chopped fruit and pretended she was just being nice but all she wanted to do was love. But she wasn’t brave enough to do that behind closed doors. 

And she isn’t brave enough to do it now. 

Mason ruined everything. That’s what Lillimae tells herself. If Mason weren’t in the picture, Naivara and her would be neck-deep in a whirlwind romance. 

Lillimae is stuck. Naivara’s mad and she has the right to be. Dosing her was stupid, but it worked. The end justifies the means. That’s what Lillimae says to herself when she watches Mason place a kiss on Naivara’s forehead. 

Naivara is safe. Naivara is alive.

So Lillimae beats her love into a bloody pulp and endures tutoring with Savan, who is gracious enough to set her up for success in a brand new world. She already knows how to spell one word: Lillimae. Who taught her? Guess. 

They make landfall: Savan gets an apartment, and Lillimae is not invited. Neither is Mason. Mason finds a hostel. Lillimae finds a pretty girl.

Pretty girl in question has skin like amber and eyes like sapphires. She makes direct eye contact. She dances, drinks, and smirks. Her dress is scandalous. And before Lillimae knows it, she’s three knuckles deep in the wrong fucking dream. 

Her name is Emily. 

Emily is mouthy. Emily likes being man-handled. She gets wet when Lillimae is mean to her and has virtually zero shame, but she’s hot and pretty and has a bed bigger than Naivara’s. So it’s a win. 

Emily likes scrambled eggs and toast. Orange juice on the side. Lillimae does everything right and Emily does nothing wrong, but once or twice Lillimae catches herself making sun eggs for the brown-eyed girl that broke her heart. 

And Emily, who is very sweet but ultimately stupid, think’s Lillimae loves her. And Lily isn’t about to burst that bubble. She likes a roof over head and a warm bed is nothing to scoff at. So she pays a little rent and she starts grabbing groceries and suddenly she’s making breakfast and before she knows it, Emily and her are a couple. 

It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel feel good or bad, not until they turn a corner and Lily sees her brown-eyed girl in the arms of some green-eyed-guy. The green-eyed-guy. Mason. Stupid Mason with his nice face and kind eyes and patient spirit. It’s aggravating. He does everything right and Lillimae wants nothing more than to punish him for it. 

Except when she tries to think up a punishment it involves fucking him stupid, for some reason. Lillimae can only think about it for half a second before she starts imagining things she shouldn’t. 

So. Wrong place, wrong time. 

“Oh, hey Lily,” Naivara says. She’s cheery and sweet, the way she can’t help being in a new world with a new guy. Mason smiles but Lillimae knows he’s just being polite.

“Hey,” Lillimae says. 

“Who are you?” Emily asks. 

Naivara pauses, and Lillimae drags a hand down her face. Mason nudges Naivara behind him and he glowers pointedly at Emily with a furrowed brow. 

“Who are you?” He asks. 

“Emily,” she says. “Lillimae’s girlfriend.”

That’s the moment Naivara and Mason could have ruined her. The moment they could have unleashed hell. One question could have blown up her entire relationship. You have a girlfriend? Would have been enough for Emily to end things then and there. 

Instead, they throw on smiles and pretend Lily has brought her up and they were soooo sorry that schedules just weren’t working out for an opportunity to meet. Except when they left the first question out of Emily’s mouth is “Why didn’t you tell me about them?”

And Lillimae decides: fuck it. 

“They lied,” she says. “They didn’t know about you. They were trying to be nice. I didn’t tell them about you. You weren’t supposed to meet.” 

“Why not?” She asks. “Why don’t you want me meeting your friends?”

“You haven’t introduced me to your friends.”

“Well I was planning on it,” she says. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“Everything about that was weird,” Emily says. 

“You are making it weird,” she says. 

“You looked at her weird,” Emily mutters, and Lillimae doubles down. 

“When did I agree to be your girlfriend?” Lillimae asks. 

“What the fuck are you on about?” Emily asks. “We aren’t girlfriends?” 

“I wouldn’t call it that-”

“You know what I’d call it?” She asks. “Over.” 

Lillimae spends that night on the beach. The cold weedles deep into her heart. She debates going back to Emily, debates saying sorry, debates a lot of things. 

She thinks long and hard about how she wants to spend her new life in this new world. 

Emily or Naivara. 

Naivara. Always Naivara. 

[soupedepates]

TW suicidal ideation.

I need a break

20 missed calls from Idalia

I only answered to Zofia

(My niece never calls except in desperate times)

She just said she was moving with me for an indeterminate time

She has been crying

I don't know why

I saw Fryderyk this morning and we talked about Czcibor

He suggested a clinic quite far away

But "really good in matter of addictology"

I phoned because I prefer handling things when it is of medical matter

(Fryderyk isn't always asking the right questions

He is easily misled by the bullshit some of my colleagues pull on people)

He left early

The company doesn't run itself

So I stayed with Czcibor

My son is apathetic since he woke up

Barely answering when we speak to him

But he tried to prevent me to leave

He almost cried

My heart is broken

I am a poor excuse of a mother

I am walking home

Could've taken the bus

I was walking home in fact

I am standing on a bridge looking at the river

Contemplating the water

The distance

The impact

My body against the cold guardrail

Wind in my hair

27 missed calls from Idalia

Something on my voicemail

And some texts I don't read

Nobody notices me

I could jump and no one would stop me

I could jump

And then I would rest

I am so tired and it is so easy

I could

I

...

"FINALLY YOU ANSWER! Where the fuck are you??? You were supposed to be here by 12! God, do you know how fucking worried you're making me?!"

"Sorry"

"...What's going on?"

"Nothing"

"It ain't nothing, Zuza, you..."

She remains quiet for a while

"I wanted to hear your voice. Sorry."

She sounds so lost

"I miss you."

I step back a bit

"When are you comin' home? I've figured you took the bus this morning cuz I can see your car from the window..."

"I'm on my way

I just needed to walk to clear my mind"

Her emotional lability sometimes takes me aback

She yells in anger

Then immediately calm down

Before quietly weeping

Next thing to happen is probably a big laugh

"I miss you. Come back quick. Please. I beg you."

And

"I thought you were ignoring me. Or you wanted to forsake me."

And

"I can't live without you."

With a sob as a punctuation

I start walking home at a brisk pace

"I am coming back

As fast as I can"

"Can you stay on the phone?"

"Promise"

"I am so so so so so sorry I-"

"Calm

My love

It's alright

I'm coming home"

[mealvaan]

Shade

A'tari woke with a start from another nightmare that wasn't hers.

It was an immersion of her own undoing. The bard had learned to capture the precision and subtleties of sound, and she drowned in those sounds in her dreams. How vividly she could hear the rattle of gunfire, the roiling mass of clamouring voices, and the jaw-clenching scrape of metal on metal. The rest was an impressionist's painting of reality: swatches of sunset for the oldstone houses and the faces, baked red. The thick, sticky, serrated scent of sweat and smoke. The numb thud of shoulders and elbows into her sides, all piling on in her new sense of gravity. The taste of blossoming, sour iron in her mouth. Flames of hair licking at the tops of her vision.

A'tari found herself sprawled out in the bed on her own. A rustling shift of the sheets and a turn of her head revealed Urianger at the desk, poring through dense text.

"Didn't get a good sleep either, huh?" A'tari asked him, sitting up in their sheets.

"I fear it shall not come to pass. Not tonight." Urianger closed his book. His features outlined nicely in candlelight, orange blooming in the little hairs of his beard and lashes. He beheld A'tari, bundled in blankets, with a knowing and tired sympathy. "Pray tell, whose visions plagueth thee?"

"Fordola rem Lupis."

Perhaps it was the woman's resonant that allowed so many of her nightmares to seep into the folds of A'tari's mind. It was difficult for A'tari to not give the Butcher grace the moment she showed an inkling of change; the Echo had slipped Fordola's hands on hers like gloves and forced her to watch them defend herself, to kill. It was difficult to truly know which of her thoughts about Fordola were really hers: the pity, the hatred, the hope, the lot.

But how many others had she come to inherit the nightmares of, long after they passed? She saw the young, prepubescent face of Asahi sas Brutus, which was tinted with hatred even back then. She heard the chime of Meteion's, "How are you feeling?" and the smothering silence that followed. She felt sand nicking at the wounds in her aether-thinned skin as the rattle of the serpent hastened from one ear to the next, before she lost consciousness in the desert sheets.

"Alas, hers is a plentiful spring from which thy shadows sup," said Urianger, breaking her spiral of thought.

"And what about you? How did the star end this time?"

"'Twas the black rose that blossomed once more."

"What a pair we make. One tortured by others' pasts, one suffering from apocalyptic futures."

Urianger smiled in dry amusement.

"In truth, I would not trade my vocation for any other. To be without the gift of prophecy is to be without the gift of thee."

A'tari brushed her thumbs over her knees, a simper hidden behind her perching duvet.

"You aren't tired of seeing me die over and over? I'm tired of it, and half the time all I see are dead strangers. People I didn't even really know… People I don't have the right to grieve. Yet, I do. Still."

"'Tis merely a vision, and for that I am well glad. Were I to forsake the art of prophecy, the worst of my visions shall come to bear." Urianger shifted his chair around entirely, facing A'tari properly. "The nightmares compel thy heroism — thy desire to savest those who may yet be saved."

"Maybe."

A'tari never thought of it that way. It was easy for Urianger to find the silver lining. He sought to intimately understand the worst so he was motivated to strive for the best, every time.

A'tari was not so resilient. A'tari wanted a good night's rest, without the heavy mantle of everyone's struggles on her shoulders. Why couldn't she just take it, the way Urianger did every time he delved somewhere strange, alone, and came back the same? Him — lovely, kind him.

Urianger stood and drifted across the room. His finger caught a tear on the apex of her lash, and she hadn't realised she was crying.

"My burden is fear, as is the burden of spokenkind in its entire. 'Tis no different from reading hypotheses. Thy burden art beyond mine own, A'tari. Thou hast seen the myriad horrors of the star, in the very flesh thou hast cut down again and again. Such visions of the past cannot be changed. Were I plagued with thy gift and affliction alike…"

"What would you do?"

"I would seclude myself to the farthest reaches of the star, and hope that in so doing, I would be full rid of the possibility that a vision might find me. Were I braver, were I stronger, mayhaps I would allow for a single companion. Yet thou claimest companionship in every breath, A'tari."

A'tari gleamed watery-eyed at Urianger. In a blink, her arms were wrapped around his hips, and her cheek pressed against his sternum.

Urianger wrapped his arms around her, one across her shoulder blades both, and the other stroking her hair. She didn't cry, but this was close, and he allowed for the mourning silence indefinitely.

"I'm going to try to get back to sleep," she said eventually, gratitude woven into the levity of her voice.

"Fare thee well." Urianger turned away, towards the desk — until A'tari grabbed his hand.

"Come try with me?"

Though the tome he was reading called, he forgot it in a heartbeat.

[fe-fictions]

Imagine that Felix is on a mission for a while leaving byleth with a newborn and a boat load of her own work. He comes home to see the house a mess and byleth has run herself sick from overwork and stress

(DotingFelixDotingFelixDotingFelixDotingFeli-)

“And you’re certain you’ll be all right?’ Felix asked for the seventeenth time that night. It had been little over a week since your son was born, before he was whisked away on assignment by the king. There weren’t many people Felix could say no to, and unfortunately the boar was one of them.

What convinced him to go (reluctantly), was when you urged him to despite wanting to stay with his new family. Dimitri had been one of the most supportive people when your pregnancy was announced, and had sent lavish congratulations following his birth almost immediately.

You knew he wouldn’t have requested Felix’s presence unless it was absolutely necessary. While you were well aware Felix would sooner forsake the crown than leave you with a newborn baby all alone, you gave him the push to just get it done and come home quickly.

“I promise we’ll be fine. I’ll be back on my feet by the time you get back.” You told him with a smile, your attention shifting to the squirming little boy in the bassinet. You both leaned over it, watching him sleep with great tenderness in your hearts.

“Don’t let them push you too hard while I’m gone. I know maternity leave for the Archbishop is abysmal, but don’t be afraid to set boundaries. The last thing you need to do is overwork yourself and take care of him. I’d feel better about it if you’d let a nursemaid tend to-”

“I’m not letting somebody else raise my son. I want the kind of bond with him that I had with my father. I want you to have that, too.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t ship me off to take care of the boar’s problems, then.” He sighed, flopping unceremoniously onto the bed. You followed after him with a roll of your eyes, patting his chest dismissively.

“I’m sure it won’t take long. I doubt your boy will change all that much by the time you come home; he’ll likely be sleeping the whole time.”

“It’s the least he can do.” Felix huffed, looking back over to the cradle. “He was hard enough on you before he was born. If he causes any trouble while I’m gone we’re really gonna have it out.”

“You can’t really discipline or scold a newborn.”

“I’ll find a way.”

“No you won’t.” You laughed, turning to settle into Felix’s arms. The two of you cuddled up, Felix drawing the blankets over you to at least try and get some good sleep. “We’ll see you off in the morning, and when you come back, we’ll have a fine party planned.”

“So long as it’s just good food and a proper duel. We haven’t been able to have one of those in ages.”

“Of course.”

The two of you drifted off not long after, taking turns to tend the baby every two hours or so. Newborns were no joke, something that made him worry more. It was already tough enough on both of you when you split the shifts, but while he was gone you’d have to shoulder the responsibility on top of an already demanding schedule.

He’d have a word with Seteth before he left, making sure he promised you’d take it easy.

Early in the morning, you saw him off. The baby was given a lingering kiss to the top of his fuzzy little head, and a longer one to his wife before he left the monastery.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look back a few times, just in case something went wrong in the seconds after his departure. But you maintained your smile, waving after him until he finally disappeared from sight.

Felix took a deep breath, exhaling sharply in a futile attempt to dispel his anxieties. He’d just have to trust that you could handle it.

—----------------------

It took three weeks. Three gods-forsaken weeks to get home.

While it was nice to get back on the battlefield to help Dimitri with a campaign against cultists…he’d honestly rather be home. He missed three weeks of his baby’s life. How much had changed since he was gone?

The letters he’d sent during his time away were getting slower responses. Naturally that meant hurrying home faster.

When he arrived to the monastery, he didn’t bother taking his horse to the stable. He handed off the reins at the gate and made a break for the front doors, striding down the halls and making a beeline for your bedroom.

Gods willing, you were going to be in bed resting like you were supposed to be.

Ignoring any and all greetings or acknowledgements of him, Felix pushed the doors open to the Archbishop’s quarters.

Nowhere to be found.

Felix grimaced, eyebrows drawn together with irritation. If you weren’t here, there’s really only one other place you could be if you weren’t wrapped up in some council meeting.

If you were in one, he’d be pulling you out of it without hesitation.

The duke didn’t waste time getting to the office, borderline sprinting through the building. He made it down the corridor and zeroed in on his location.

He pushed the door open, a smile sprouting.

“Byleth!”

Instantly, it plummeted.

Your husband froze, finding your office in disarray. It was a wild mess, and you were settled into the middle of it. A blanket was wrapped tight around your shoulders. Papers were strewn across the floor if they weren’t haphazardly stacked anywhere they could be. Books were overturned and worse yet, there was a squirming bundle in a cradle off by the window where his baby was.

You looked up at him, dazed.

“Oh…welcome back, Felix.”

“Byleth- what the hell happened??” He all but forced his way through the sea of paperwork and came around the desk. He put a hand to your forehead; you were way too warm. “What the- are you sick?”

“No.” You shook your head, looking up at him as if that would reassure him. Your eyes were glassy. “I’m just tired.”

“You’re not tired, you’re sick! You’ve got a fever. Oh my gods- how did this happen?”

“I’m not sick.” You repeated, “I just…I just got a little overwhelmed with all the work I have to catch up on.”

“Your office is a complete wreck. And the baby- what about him?”

Felix left you for a split second, rushing over to the little cradle. The baby had been squirming since he came in, and was starting to squeak out protests. He could see why; the boy undoubtedly needed a diaper change, and he looked hungry. Felix plucked that baby up and held him to his chest, the worry starting to build into panic.

“He’s a mess, Byleth- you’re a mess!”

“Let me see him…I can-”

“I’m getting the clerics. Stay put, you hear me?”

He burst out of the room before you could so much as protest. Flayn was the first one he found, and he demanded she round up as many healers she could find to get you help (as well as hunt down her brother- he had some very choice words for the man whose sole purpose was to take care of the Archbishop).

In a matter of minutes, you were being taken from the office and carefully returned to the bedroom, trying to draw as little attention as possible from the prying eyes of curious students. It was unusual for the Archbishop to be surrounded by healers…let alone with an absolutely fuming Duke Fraldarius marching in front of them.

When they reached your room, he made sure to lock the doors behind him. Then everyone set to work. The healers helped you into bed and started immediately with remedies for your illness. Felix, in the meantime, took his little boy to the washroom and set to work getting the poor baby cleaned up.

At the very least it didn’t seem like he was in terrible duress; just that he’d been sitting in his soiled nappy a little longer than he should have.

“Tch…this is my fault, isn’t it? I should’ve been here to take care of you. Your mother should’ve been resting the whole time.” He muttered to himself, a pang of guilt hitting him while he worked on taking care of his son. The nappy was swiftly replaced with a nice and clean one, though it did little to assuage the newborn’s hungry cries.

He patted his son’s back gently, settling him back onto his chest while he returned to the bedroom. The situation calmed a little bit by the time he came back, and Flayn took him aside while the others continued their work.

“She’s overworked herself.” Flayn finally said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, Felix. We had a pretty good handle on her for the first week and a half, but she started to slip away more and more when we weren’t looking.”

“She’s the Archbishop. How do you lose sight of someone like that?” His eyes narrowed, and she shook her head.

“She’s also the Ashen Demon. If Byleth wants to slip away, she’ll find a way.”

He glanced away, jaw clenched. She did have a point. “...Will she be okay?”

“She’ll need bed rest for at least a week. She pushed herself physically beyond the limit. It seems like she hasn’t slept much at all, even accounting for taking care of the little prince.”

Flayn nodded to the newborn with a small smile, her ears twitching as his squeaky cries grew increasingly more demanding. Felix gave his son a soft squeeze before he offered her to the young cleric.

“Take him and make sure he’s healthy- he seems okay, but I don’t want to risk missing something…and see what you can do about getting him fed. Get a wet nurse from the town, or something.”

She happily took the little bundle into her arms, giving Felix a swift bow. “I’ll see to it immediately.”

“Thanks.”

He watched her go for a moment, before he returned his full attention to his wife. They made space for the duke to come to his wife’s bedside, finding her asleep.

A cool cloth was settled on your forehead, tucked tightly around you. Felix could barely believe his eyes; the worst part being that it seemed like you did this all of your own volition.

“Idiot.” He grumbled, fingers laced in front of his face. His eyes were firm on your sleeping expression, refusing to leave your side. He’d already spent more than enough time away.

That man wasn’t going anywhere until his son was at least three years old, and even then it was debatable.

It would be about two hours of quiet rest before you finally came to. By then, Felix had moved a more comfortable chair over to the bedside, and he had a snoozing newborn with a full belly snuggle in his arms.

When your eyes opened, you found yourself staring up at the hazy image of your husband rocking his son back and forth gently, humming some tuneless song.

He heard you shift, which brought the song to a pause. He leaned forward, looking over you while you started to rouse from a much-needed sleep.

“Byleth.”

Your brow furrowed, followed by a few heavy blinks before you were able to look up at him. His eyes were narrowed at you, the frown more worried than annoyed for now.

“Felix…?”

“How do you feel?”

“I…” You swallowed, turning your head to the side. The cloth slipped off your forehead. “I feel better.”

“Good. Because you were in bad shape. You still are, according to the clerics.” He told you, tucking the newborn closer. “Flayn’s forcing you to stay in bed until you’re better. At least a week.”

“A week?” You repeated, waking up a little more. “No…I can’t wait that long. There’s too much to-”

“Stop.” He held a hand up, “You’ve been running yourself ragged since I left, haven’t you? Your office was a total wreck when I got to you, and you practically fainted the moment they put you in bed. You’re in no condition to do anything other than rest!”

Your protests quickly quieted, and Felix sighed sharply as he leaned back into the chair.

“Honestly…what the hells were you thinking? I told you to take it easy, and not push yourself between being the Archbishop and taking care of a newborn- a newborn baby- on top of that.”

“I thought I could handle it.” You managed, though it sounded rather meek. You turned your gaze from his venomous glare, “I-it’s just that…I had to slow down so much when I was pregnant, and…now that I can move around a little more, I wanted to catch up.”

“How much of your catch-up was actually viable? How much of it did you do while you were physically and mentally exhausted?”

“I don’t know. A lot, probably.”

“What about our son? Did you neglect him while you were working?”

“N-no, of course not.” You shook your head vehemently, your eyes falling to your sleeping baby. “It was part of what had me so scrambled…I had to keep interrupting work to make sure he was taken care of.”

“Why not let someone else take care of him while you worked?”

“Because he doesn’t belong to someone else.” You said softly, “He’s my baby. And your baby. And if you’re not here, then he’s just mine to take care of.”

“Byleth…you don’t have to be the only person your child has to rely on when you’re alone. You’ve got a whole monastery of friends, teachers and students who would jump at a chance to help you with him. Even your father didn’t raise you alone, right?”

You grew quiet, thinking back to your childhood. Felix had a point; there were plenty of times Jeralt left you in the care of other mercenaries (some better at childcare than others), so he could take care of something else.

He wasn’t alone, even as a single parent. And neither were you.

“...You’re right. I’m…I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it. I wanted to handle it.” You explained, feeling much more shy than before. Felix sighed again, and shook his head.

“You can handle a lot, Byleth. More than most people. But not even you can handle all the duties of the Archbishop with a newborn strapped to your chest. Just be more careful in the future, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, turning your attention to the little bundle. “Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. He needed a change and a wash, but Flayn looked him over and said he’s just fine. She found somebody to feed him too, while you were sleeping.”

“Good.” You breathed, relaxing now that your baby was accounted for. Felix’s gaze softened, seeing how visibly relieved you were. “I’m sorry, little one…I didn’t mean to put you through all that. I was negligent.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Felix replied, and rose from his seat, kneeling at the bedside so that you could better see your baby. His little face was rosy and sweet, his little puffs of breath a great comfort to know that he was sleeping soundly. You reached over and cradled his head in your hand, running your thumb over his ear.

“I hope so.” You whispered before you brought your hand up to Felix’s face. “I’m sorry to you, too. I hope you can forgive my foolishness.”

“Hmph.” He leaned into your touch, kissing your palm. “Just this once. Don’t do it again, got it?”

You beamed at him, “Yeah. I’m glad you’re back.”

“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere for a long time. I’m right here with you- both of you.”

The three of you settled into bed, then, Felix more than happy to snooze with you both while you reunited with your little boy. It had been far too long since he was able to sleep in one, and also, share it with you.

He’d make doting on you a priority until you were back on your feet. In the meantime, he’d clean up your office and catch up on plenty of your work that needed to be done. When you slept, Felix had a baby strapped to his chest in a very cozy Faerghus papoose, handling meetings and paperwork.

Babies were surprisingly good negotiation tools.

After a full seven days of rest you were back on your feet, looking and feeling better than ever. You made sure to thank your attentive, ridiculous husband generously for all his hard work.

Which he accepted with a blush and a scoff, naturally.

[thehandworld]

Gift Drabble for the TYL!au

((As we both know, you can do as you please with this drabble. Thanks for requesting and sorry that it took a while. But I got it done! ))

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This day was a special one, as it was the anniversary of Haru and Gokudera becoming tied to each other in matrimony. It would be a lie to say that life was easy and without trials and tribulations, but that’s what life was. It was a struggle, and she was glad that she wasn’t alone on that.

Her relationship with Gokudera was both simple and complicated. There were many things to worry about, especially with the death of Sawada Tsunayoshi. There were many complicated protocols, but not without reason. She always understood why she had to do certain things, or why she may suddenly be asked to go somewhere without asking too many questions.

At the end of the day, it had to do with safety. Her safety was a big cause of concern for Gokudera, and she appreciated it, but also felt guilty about it as well. He already had a lot to worry over, and he always had to worry about her as well. It would make sense to say that maybe he felt guilty towards her too, what with all the things she had to deal with.

She could’ve been an average civilian, she wasn’t born into the life of the Mafia, but because she loved him, she stayed with him. Unlike others, she had to worry about where she was going, who she could meet, and whether or not the person she faces across the corner is an enemy.

It would be a lie to say she didn’t feel even a sliver of regret, but she knew full well that if she were given another chance, she’d still make the same choices as she did in this life. Though perhaps she would have preferred to become more involved—despite what the others may have said.

As she finished setting the table, she could hear a sound coming from the front door. Excited, she rushed to the door to open it, expecting to see her husband. Sure, the Storm Guardian stood at the door, but it wasn’t quite like how she expected to see him. She gasps as she quickly moves to support him before he falls over. “Hayato!”

The weight of his body once more reminds her of the weight that mirrors the gravity of the situation at hand. Most couples may be able to enjoy a wedding anniversary with a cute date, or celebrate it in a romantic way, but she was probably going to be spending hers tending to her husband.

Worry and fear were the only two emotions she felt coursing through her veins, and as much as she wished she could beg for him to stop—she knew he wouldn’t listen. Just as he cared for the Vongola, so did she. She couldn’t in good faith ask him to forsake everything, and neither would she really want to, despite how much heart ache and worry this caused her on a nightly basis.

She held onto him tightly, trying to feel his heartbeat, allowing his body temperature to engulf her smaller frame. It reminded her that he was right with her, and he was alive. “Welcome home.” She speaks quietly, keeping her voice measured and calm, not allowing her fear to sound through her voice.

He did promise to do his best to return home early today because it was their wedding anniversary. Even when hurt like this, he did his best to hold true to his promise. Though it would nearly give her a heart attack, he did come back. “Welcome back, Hayato.” She whispers as she slowly starts to move him through the doorway and into their home. “Let’s get you looked at first.”

Seeing as he didn’t stop by the hospital first, his injuries shouldn’t be fatal. A quick cursory look showed that he had some cuts and bruises, and perhaps some burns? She bit her lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, but she stopped before her teeth broke through skin. A big rush of emotions swelled in her chest, but the pain in her lower lip always reminded her of what not to say.

Hayato was the one in pain, and he was beyond stressed out. The least of what he needed now was to feel guilty on top of that. To have to deal with her emotions. Even if it did feel unfair sometimes, this is what she signed up for the day she accepted his proposal. She knew this is the life she’d lead. Like a supportive wife should, she did her best not to show how upset she was. She could be calm and at least thank the stars that Hayato returned to her side—alive.

Making sure to get him situated on the couch first, she went deeper into their home in search of the first aid kit. She would hear of no complaints or assurances that he was ‘fine.’ She knew better than to simply trust his word for that.

Returning with the first aid kit, she had a quick though run through her mind, and it was the fact that the food was probably going to get cold by the time she was done tending to his injuries. Well, what else could she expect? Oh well, it was easy enough to reheat food, but it was difficult to have to come face to face with the concept of death.

Sitting next to him on the couch, she rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Thank you for coming back home.” She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost him too. For sure, the Vongola would fall apart if even he were to die, surely. “Alright, let’s get those injuries of yours tended to. Your wife will hear no complaints.” She said stubbornly.

Both of them knew that once Haru set her mind to something, it was difficult to ever convince her otherwise. “Arguing with me about this results in me ignoring you. We both don’t want that on our anniversary of all days, so be good.”

Wedding... The happiest day of his lip, he felt so luck to marry Haru, the reception, the party everything was a mix between Haru and his taste, he remember vividly as day, as his memories would bring that image again and again whenever he had to remember something nice.

The smell, the sounds, the taste, everything looked so vividly.

But right now the smell was of gunpowder and blood, the taste was of pure sweat and blood, and everything looked in smokes and fire, honestly, a surprise attack? There were a few cuts and a few minor bruises, yet he deemed himself good enough, it probably would ruin their celebration but he promised. Promised to be there early.

Calling the Vongola to clean and deal with the after, as he gets up and goes to his house... His home to the love of his life. That... He didn’t want to worry or anything but seems like it was impossible not to.

As he opens the door and greeted by her, he wanted to hug her, hold her and kiss her lips, they were celebrating their marriage, but instead all he could do was almost fall over. Having her supporting his weight, it was unfair and the difference too high. Yet she did.

Bringing him to the couch and starting to undress him to go tend to the wounds. The Thank you and welcome, made him smile as he moves slightly to take a star keychain.

In their marriage, Hayato gave her a chain with one star keychain in it, and since then, every celebration as a couple, he would bring a small start keychain different from another to her. During the marriage anniversary he would bring a larger one, to represent it, so it was his way of making everything more meaningful.

Your present... I’m sorry I was a little late. He smiles gently, as he now closes his eyes and let it rest, if he didn’t wake up for the next three days, it is because his body was healing and he needed the semi-coma state for it to do it quickly. But he was home, he made it, he was also able to give her the star gift. Everything... Would be okay. 

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Drabble submitted by Neo: May 9, 2021 2:50 pm

It’s been 3 years Neo, and honestly, I really want to take this time to express my love and sincere and honest, thank you. Thank you for be this amazing woman that wrote for me even when I was in Hiatus, not knowing if I would come back or not. Thank you for saying so many amazing things and keep answering threads that has been also YEARS since the start. Thank you for be my friend. Thank you very much. And I will keep saying thank you, and feeling grateful for the rest of the days. I love you dear.

Emi.