#i always loved all their arguments and fights

[joemama-2]

" all i want for christmas is you "

♡ drabble of my series velvet lies

♡ gojo x reader

♡ synopsis: it's the first christmas you're spending with your boyfriend, satoru gojo.

♡ tags/warnings: fluff, angst, hints of a dysfunctional household, suggestive content

♡ wc: 3.3k

Year: 2015

“Where are you going?”

You stop midway, having just almost slipped out of the front food undetected. You thought she was still sleeping. Turning your head over your shoulder slightly, bag slung over your shoulder, hood on. “I…I’m sleeping over Satoru’s.”

“Hah,” she scoffs out, lip curving up bitterly. “And who gave you the permission to?”

“I’m nineteen, mom.”

“And still living under my roof.”

Your lips purse, holding back a frown. It’s already nine at night, Christmas Eve. You told Satoru you’d be at his by nine-thirty. If she holds you up any longer, you’ll be late. “Mom, please, okay? We’re not doing anything today and I want to spend it with him.”

Your mother stalks forward, snatching the bag off your shoulder. She looks in, spotting a small gift inside. When her hand reaches in to bring it out, you stop her with a grip on her wrist. “Please, stop. You’re drunk.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow, her lips twisting into a scowl. “Drunk?” she spits out, yanking her wrist free. “How dare you accuse me of that?”

The bitterness in her voice stings, but you hold your ground—you have to. “Look mom, I don’t want to fight right now.” You keep your tone measured, and calm, acting like the adult in this situation. You’re always the adult around her. “It’s Christmas Eve. Can we just—”

“Can we just what?” she cuts you off, her voice rising. “Pretend everything’s fine while you run off to God knows where with him? Always with him. Do you even care about this family anymore?”

Your jaw clenches at her words, frustration bubbling under your skin. “It’s not like that, Mom,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. “Satoru’s my boyfriend. He’s important to me.”

“More important than me?” she snaps back, her words laced with hurt. “Than your own mother? Than the one who gave birth to you and brought you into this world, you ungrateful brat.” Her nails dig into your skin while she tries to hold onto you, shaking your arm with vigor as if it’s a physical alignment to the harsh words she grits at you.

You falter, the weight of her question pressing against your chest. “That’s not what I’m saying,” you mutter, lowering your gaze. At this moment, you feel as if whatever you say is not good enough for her. Whatever you say, it’ll spark an unnecessary argument or fight—something you don’t want nor have the energy for. Carefully, you remove yourself from her tight hold, the alcohol in her system giving you the ampleness to do that quite easily. 

She exhales a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. For a moment, the tension between you softens, but it’s short-lived. She steps closer, holding the bag tightly against her chest. “If you walk out that door,” she says, her voice trembling with unspoken pain, “don’t bother coming back.”

Your heart skips a beat, the ultimatum hanging heavy in the air. You can’t tell if she means it—if the alcohol is speaking for her, or if it’s a wound she’s trying to inflict deliberately. “I’m nineteen,” you say again, your voice quieter this time, tinged with sadness. “I love you, Mom. But I just want to have a happy day today.” You reach for the bag, and for a moment, she doesn’t resist. Her fingers tighten around the strap as you pull it away, but she lets go, her expression unreadable. 

“He’ll never stay.” Your mother says, tinged with a hint of jealous amusement. “Men like him don’t go for little girls like you. It won’t last, it never does. And when that happens, don’t come crying to me. Because I’ll tell you I told you so.”

Turning toward the door, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the handle. You won’t give in, not now. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. So, you suck it up, taking what she says to a very surface-level degree. Because at the end of the day, you have some respect for her. But that is diminishing slowly and slowly until one day, you might never have it anymore. And you’re okay with that, maybe even waiting for it. “Merry Christmas,” you say softly, not looking back.

You don’t wait for a reply. 

The cold night air bites at your skin as you step outside, the door clicking shut behind you. Your chest feels tight, but you push the feeling aside, tugging your hood further over your head. Satoru is waiting, and for now, that’s all that matters.

“Minus ten points for tardiness.”

You sigh, stepping in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Closing and locking the door behind you, he follows you. Peering into the bag that housed some clothes to sleep in, his eyes are drawn to the small present. A grin sneaks its way onto his face, hand steathily reaching in. “Oh? And what’s thi—”

“No,” your eyes roll, effectively swatting his sneaky fingers. “No peeking, or you’ll be on the naughty list.”

He giggles, following you into his living room. Watching as you set your bag onto the lavish sofa, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind you. The tips of his snowy hair tickle below your jaw, not being able to resist the shiver and subsequent airy chuckle the falls from you. You feel his smile against your neck, his soft and full lips planting sweet kisses along the stretch of it like he’s tediously worshipping you. “I’m always on the naughty list, baby. You know that.”

Again, you roll your eyes—this time in more amusement than annoyance. “And naughty boys don’t get presents, Satoru.”

“What do you mean? I have my present right here in my arms.” Another chuckle and he’s kissing up your neck to your ear, playfully nibbling at your lobe. His hand turns your chin so you’re face to face. He calculates the twinkle in your pretty eyes for a second—but a second is more than enough time. Leaning down and indulging in you. “My present tastes sweet, too.” He mumbles against your lips, head tilting to deepen the passionate moment. 

Twisting your body to face him better, your arms wrap around his neck while his around your waist. You two stay like this for a few seconds, inhaling each other’s breath like it’s a meal, tongues rubbing together. The kiss deepens, his hands slipping under the hem of your sweater to rest against the warmth of your skin. The heat of the moment wraps around you both, drowning out the chilly air outside the window. It’s intoxicating, the way his lips move against yours, slow yet insistent, as if he’s savoring every second.

When you finally pull back for air before it goes too far, his forehead rests against yours, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. His breath fans across your lips, warm and teasing. “Told you, silly. I’ve actually been good,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, sultry tone that always sends shivers down your spine.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of his albino hair out of his face. “Good boys don’t try to bribe Santa with kisses, Satoru.”

“Santa should’ve known what she was getting into when she got with me.” His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “Besides,” he adds, tilting his head slightly, “if I wasn’t good, you wouldn’t be kissing me back like that.”

You sigh, lightly hitting his chest. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Only because you fill me up,” he fires back without missing a beat, the cheekiness in his grin giving way to a softer look. His thumb brushes against your cheek as he gazes at you, all traces of teasing momentarily replaced by something deeper. It’s in these moments that you realize just how much he loves you, how much he treasures these quiet times together when the world falls away, leaving just the two of you. “Thank you,” he whispers suddenly, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.

“For what?” you ask softly, brushing your fingers along the nape of his neck.

“For always being my home,” he says, his eyes holding yours as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. “For making me feel like I belong.”

Your chest tightens, warmth spreading through you. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “You’re my home too, Satoru.” His arms tighten around you in response feels like a promise, one that doesn’t need words.

After a beat of silence, he decides to bite the bullet. “Do you wanna tell me why you were late?” You hesitate, lips thinning into a line he knows all too well. It’s the look that tells him he already knows the answer, it’s like a telepathic way of communicating with one another. He doesn’t push, nodding and interlacing your fingers before bringing you over to the kitchen. “That’s fine. We don’t have to talk about anything. Just you and me, that’s it. Parents gone so we have the whole place to ourselves, remember?” 

You let out a soft sigh of relief, thankful that he isn’t pressing further. It’s one of the things you appreciate most about Satoru—his ability to read you, to know when to dig deeper and when to let things be. He squeezes your hand gently as he holds onto you, the warmth of his home wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

The faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla lingers in the air, remnants of whatever candles he had lit earlier. The cozy space is dimly lit, with only the soft glow of fairy lights strung along the windows. Satoru releases your hand to open the fridge, rummaging around with exaggerated movements to make you laugh. “Let’s see,” he says, peering inside. “What can I whip up to impress my lovely guest tonight? Gourmet pizza rolls? Instant ramen? Or…” He pulls out a half-eaten cheesecake with a dramatic flourish, “this masterpiece of dairy and sugar.”

You chuckle despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he fires back, setting the cheesecake on the counter. He turns to you, leaning casually against the counter with that boyish grin you can never resist. “Seriously, though, are you hungry? Thirsty? Or just here to bask in my undeniable charm?”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll take some of that cheesecake, thanks. And water.”

“Excellent choice, my dear.” He grabs two forks and fills up a glass of water, sliding one toward you before hopping onto the counter like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He takes a bite, pointing his fork at you. “You know, I should charge you for this. High-quality desserts like this don’t come cheap.”

“Oh, please,” you tease, taking a bite of your own. “You didn’t even make it.”

“Semantics, semantics,” he says with a wave of his hand, but his smile softens as he watches you. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you both eat, the tension from earlier slowly melting away. After a moment, he speaks again, quieter this time. “I meant it, you know. We don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re here.”

You glance up at him, his blue eyes meeting yours with an openness that always makes your chest tighten. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world, makes it harder to keep your walls up. “Thanks, Satoru,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I really needed this tonight.”

His grin returns, brighter than ever. “Well, lucky for you, I’m pretty great at being exactly what people need.” He winks, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “What you need.”

For the first time that day, you feel the weight on your chest ease, just a little. Maybe tonight doesn’t have to be about the things you’re running from. Maybe, just for a while, it can be about the person sitting right in front of you. Your boyfriend. Your best friend. Your one and only. Yeah, you think to yourself as you wipe some frosting from the corner of his mouth. 

You are what I need.

“You don’t have to record this…” you mutter in embarrassment. The hat he made you wear was one thing, but now he’s acting like some dad. Recording in landscape mode as you open the gift he wrapped for you. 

“Pfft! Open it! It’s a memory we can look back on when we’re old and crippled.” He waves you off with one hand, lifting his head over the phone to give you a certain look. 

With finality, you exhale heavily and unwrap your gift. Your own anticipation is eating at you, hoping he didn’t get you something too extravagant. You already told him not to, but he’s Satoru. Besides, you’d feel like shit if he got you something expensive and yours isn’t. Nimble fingers unwrap the paper decorated with red hearts and Christmas trees, finally getting it out the way. In its wake is a small, rectangular box. 

“Proposing already?”

“Not yet.”

You snicker, taking in a deep breath before opening it. Your eyes widen, lips parting a small gasp falls from your lips. “...sa…toru…” you say, feeling a familiar tinkle to your heart, skin heating up and smile subconsciously growing. Carefully, you remove the piece from its placement in the box. Holding it up to the light, it looks even more beautiful. “This is…” The delicate necklace sparkles under the glow of the fairy lights, a silver chain adorned with a small, intricate charm shaped like a snowflake. Tiny gemstones catch the light, creating a mesmerizing shimmer. “The one you wanted.” He finishes for you, lowering his phone, the camera still rolling. “Open it.”

When you open the pretty snowflake locket, there’s a picture printed inside. A miniature version of the first picture you two took together. It’s awkward and your smiles seem a little forced due to the close proximity. But looking back at it now, all you can think of is how endearing it is. How cute it is. When you meet his eyes, he’s already looking at you—tenderness in his expression. “Thank you, Satoru. It’s beautiful, I love it.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, the kind that makes your chest tighten in a way you can’t quite put into words. “I’m glad you love it,” he says quietly, his gaze steady, unwavering.

Your fingers lightly brush over the tiny photo, the memory of that day flooding back to you. It had been awkward, both of you still figuring each other out, yet there was something unspoken in the air even then. Looking at it now, it feels like the perfect encapsulation of where it all began—a little clumsy, a little uncertain, but undeniably sweet. “You kept this picture all this time?” you ask, your voice laced with surprise and affection.

“Of course I did,” he repliesmas if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It was the first moment I had proof you actually liked being around me.” He laughs, his playful tone back in full force.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re such a dork.”

“Your dork,” he counters, moving closer. “I wanted you to have something that’s just… us. A little reminder of how far we’ve come.”

Your heart swells, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s stopped spinning. “It’s perfect,” you say, meeting his gaze. “It’s so thoughtful, Satoru. I’ll treasure it.”

He leans down, his nose nudging yours. “You better, because it’s a symbol of my undying devotion to you.” His voice is teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes you smile.

“Well, now I feel bad about my gift,” you admit, scrunching your nose. “It’s nothing compared to this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. “Anything from you is the best gift I could ask for. Besides, I already got what I wanted—you, here with me.”

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable. “Alright, alright, you win. I’ll stop doubting myself.”

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your nose. “Because there’s no competition—you’re already the best thing in my life.” And just like that, you’re reminded why you fell for him in the first place.

When it’s his turn to open his present from you, he’s making you hold the camera now. You’re nervous—rightfully so. Satoru has everything he could need and want, and then some. So coming up with a gift was both hard and tedious for you. But, you can pat yourself on the shoulder for a job well done. 

He’s much more quick when unrwrapping it, big smile on his face that barely shows off his excitement. In just barely three seconds, the wrapping is off and carelessly thrown to the side, opening the little box. His eyes widen for a moment, and then his expression shifts into something that makes your heart flutter—equal parts surprise and awe. Nestled inside the box is a custom-made keychain, simple yet meaningful. It’s crafted from silver, with a small engravement of your shared favorite flower, a purple hyacinth. The small phrase, “here with you, now and always.” is below the flower.

For a moment, he’s speechless, his fingers carefully lifting the keychain from its box. The soft clinking sound it makes as it moves feels like the only noise in the room. “You made this?” he finally asks, looking up at you, his voice softer than usual.

You nod, biting your lip nervously. “I… I had it made, yeah. I know it’s nothing big, but I wanted to give you something personal. Something you could keep with you wherever you go.”

His thumb brushes over the engraving, and his lips tug into the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. “It’s perfect,” he says, his tone filled with a tenderness that sends warmth spreading through your chest. “I mean it, this is—this is incredible.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling a wave of relief. “You really like it?”

“Like it?” He sets the keychain down carefully, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I love it.” His eyes glimmer with something almost boyish, the excitement he always has when you do something that touches his heart. “I mean, look at it!” he says, picking it up again. “This is so thoughtful. The writing? And the flower? Genius. It’s your flower, I always think of you whenever I see one. It’s like you’re with me all the time now, even when you’re not.”

You laugh softly, your nerves dissipating. “That was the idea.”

He grins, turning back to you and holding it up proudly. “You’ve officially raised the bar for all future gifts. I’ll carry this with me everywhere, you know that?”

“I’d hope so,” you murmur, watching as he clips it onto his keys right then and there.

Once he’s done, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers into your hair.

You smile, your hands resting against his back. “I guess we’re both pretty amazing, then.”

He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. “Best Christmas ever,” he declares, and the look in his eyes tells you he means it.

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he whispers back, hands itching for you.

You two seal the end of the gift giving with a kiss, straddling his hips. It feels just right. His hands, his lips, his whispered praises. Like he said, you have the night to yourselves, and you plan to take complete advantage of that. Because after all, that’s not the only gift you’re giving him. 

In the future, one night after a particular revelation that shook his world, he finds himself looking at the keychain that’s been locked in a drawer he hasn’t dared to open in years. And if he scrolls high enough in his photo album, he’ll come across a familiar video that starts wholesome but ends with something far more…naughty.

(You two forgot the camera was rolling.)

a/n: hi everyone, today i felt inspired and wanted to give out a cute little drabble pre everything. i hope ur all having a wonderful day and make sure to eat well!, tagging the usual taglist

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

[rosemariiaa]

00 ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

𐙚—pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚—rosie’s note: merry xmas my lovelies, this is my gift to you! happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚—links: rosie’s bookshelf, rewind my heart masterlist

𐙚—themes: time travel, angst (kinda)

𐙚— taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @juspeaks @sierrale8ne @bueckersbitch @pboogerswbb @lupinqs @makethemhoesmad @imaginespazzi @d3arapril @guesswhoitsn @xxloveralways14 @ashortyluvsports

enjoy!!!

The apartment is too quiet without her.

It’s been hours since Azzi left, her pink bonnet stuffed into her purse, the overnight bag she’d packed slung over her shoulder. She didn’t look back when she closed the door behind her, and Paige didn’t stop her.

Not this time.

Paige leans against the kitchen counter, staring blankly at the half-empty bottle of water in her hand. The sun is setting, painting the skyline outside her window in muted oranges and purples, but she barely notices. The air in the apartment feels heavy, suffocating in its silence.

Her knee aches from today’s workout—a reminder of the game she has in two days. She should be focused on that, but her mind is miles away.

Back to Azzi. Back to their argument.

The fight wasn’t about anything major. None of them ever were. But it was loud. Ugly. The kind of argument that feels like it’s about everything and nothing all at once.

“You don’t even try anymore, Paige!” Azzi’s voice had cracked with frustration, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You’re so scared of—of whatever this is that you’re ruining it before it can even work.”

“And you’re not?” Paige had snapped back, her voice sharp and cutting. “You’re the one with one foot out the door every time things get hard.”

Azzi had gone quiet then, her lips pressing into a thin line. It was the kind of silence that made Paige want to take it all back, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Instead, Azzi had turned on her heel, grabbed her things, and left.

That was three hours ago.

Paige swallows hard, setting the water bottle down on the counter. Her phone buzzes on the island, but she doesn’t check it. It’s probably her coach or a teammate, someone reminding her of the life she’s supposed to be living.

But all Paige can think about is the pink bonnet Azzi left behind. The one she’s worn every night since they were 19 and sharing cramped student apartments in Connecticut.

How did it get to this? How did they go from late-night talks in Paige’s dorm room to this endless cycle of arguing and leaving?

Paige sighs, running a hand through her hair as she drags herself toward the bedroom. Maybe Azzi just needs time to cool off. Maybe this is one of those fights they’ll laugh about later, the way they always used to.

She doesn’t even bother turning on the lights as she collapses onto the bed, burying her face in the purple blanket Azzi gave her their first Christmas together.

It still smells like her.

Paige closes her eyes, exhaustion pulling her under.

—

When I wake up, something feels… wrong.

It’s the light that hits my face first, warm and bright and all wrong for my LA apartment. Then it’s the smell—not Azzi’s perfume or the lavender candle that I keep on the dresser, but something familiar and distant.

My eyes blink open, and for a moment, I can’t seem to breathe.

This can’t be happening.

I blink again, but nothing changes. I stare at the spinning bookshelf, the neatly stacked trophies, the PS5 humming quietly on the dresser—it’s all there. The TV mounted on the wall shows the home screen I haven’t seen in years. My purple sheets are a little wrinkled, the fluffy blanket half spilling onto the floor, but it still smells like fabric softener and familiarity.

My eyes catch on the vanity across the room, where Azzi’s pink bonnet and my Bible sit side by side. My heart clenches. She always left them there.

My fingers dig into the mattress as I sit up, my knee protesting the sudden movement. This isn’t my apartment in Los Angeles. This isn’t my life now. This is… this is my senior-year room at UConn.

The student apartment. The one I shared with Azzi, Nika, Jana, and Ice.

I force myself to stand, even as my chest feels like it’s caving in. The layout of the room is burned into my memory, down to the picture frame sitting on Azzi’s side of the vanity. The photo is of the two of us, taken back when things between us were still too undefined to explain.

The blanket she likes to steal is still folded at the foot of my bed. Her favorite UConn hoodie is draped over my beanbag. A pair of her sneakers sits in the corner, her name written in small letters on the tongue.

Her stuff is scattered everywhere, like it always was, because we spent most nights sleeping in my room instead of hers.

I look around, desperate for an answer. For anything that will tell me this isn’t real.

But it is.

It’s all exactly as I left it in 2025. My senior year.

The year I ruined everything.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it like it might give me an explanation.

October 12, 2024.

I nearly drop it. My hands are shaking as I swipe to my texts.

azzi: workout in 20 paigey, be ready when i get there

nika: tell Ice if she clogs the sink again with her hair, I’m moving out.

My breath catches in my throat. I read the texts again, trying to make sense of it, but they feel too familiar. Too real. My hands drop to my sides as the phone slips from my grasp.

This doesn’t make sense.

I glance toward Azzi’s bed. I was always glad my room was the only one with a spare bed, her bed was perfectly made like always. Her per led lights cast a soft glow over the walls, and the scent of her body lotion lingers in the air.

Memories rush back like a punch to the gut. The year we tried to be “just friends.” The year we failed. The year I let fear ruin everything we had.

I drag myself into the kitchen, needing space to think. The student apartment is quiet, but it feels like a time capsule. Jana’s mismatched sneakers are by the door. Nika’s pink Hydro Flask sits on the counter. Ice’s protein shake blender is still sitting in the sink.

Everything is exactly as it was.

But why? Why now? Why this year?

I stare out the window, the view of campus just as I remember. The ache in my knee pulls me back to reality. I know this feeling. I know this time.

I press my hands against the counter, gripping it tightly as the realization sinks in.

I’m back. Back in my senior year. Back in the year Azzi and I were finally supposed to get it right.

And I have no idea why.

My phone buzzes again on the counter.

azzi: coffee or no? answer my texts don’t be weird

Her name on my screen feels like a lifeline and a weight all at once.

This was the year it all fell apart.

But maybe, just maybe, it’s also the year I can put it back together.

———

𐙚— rosie’s note: okay psa, the chapters for this series should take too long to post, as i mentioned before i really do like this plot and it’s good for me to work with so you should’ve have to wait too long :) also hope u enjoyed muah!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Caracalla in a relationship - sfw/nsfw

Caracalla x younger!reader

warning : smutish (not too graphic), cuddling, kissing, tiny comfort, Caracalla is his own tiny warning

info : Caracalla as sweet as he is is a double-edged sword on the one hand gentle and playful on the other obsessive and possessive now i hope you enjoy reading ;) There will be also one with an older!reader

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SFW

°From the moment it became clear that he and his brother needed an heir, Caracalla also had to choose a wife, a bride from the surrounding areas, one that made the most political sense. Even though his interests lay elsewhere and he had gotten into arguments with his brother, even in his lucid moments he had to realize that Geta was right, ,,Then help me find my wife, brother” he had asked him, let go of Dundus and knew that even his madness could not last forever, that in the moments when he was in charge, he had to take responsibility, as awful as it may seem.

A responsibility he searched through for weeks, from mosaic pictures to written letters to the day they had parties organized and invited all the princesses and daughters who had royal blood to show, ,,We've been sitting here for hours now, are you even paying attention?” he hardly noticed his brother's question. Hours had passed since the party and everything still seemed to have made no progress until the blue eyes found something furry in the crowd, rising wordlessly the blond walked through the crowd with a curious look. Ignoring the guests, almost shoving them aside, he found himself in the room with her, pretty and delicate, a look of joy and on her lap a tiger cub, ,,What's his name?” Caracalla wanted to know and knelt down to her.

°With this question, two animals and coins flowing, the emperor had apparently found his wife. Although only a little younger, this seemed to suit the emperor more, the joy and energy he had during his fits seemed to be well controlled by his wife, ,,Sometimes he's a playful, brutal child just to be my husband again, but I love him just the way he is, believe me Geta,” she assured her brother-in-law. She knew how important his brother was to Geta and tried to fulfill this role as best she could, starting with the morning make-up, which usually ended in a laughing embrace and Caracalla giving her a kiss on the cheek.

°Especially the cuddling and the short kisses seemed to calm Caracalla down when something didn't go the way he wanted it to. Whether it was during a defeat in the Colosseum, at a party when the music wasn't right or even when Dundus didn't listen to him, ,,We'll manage, I promise," she always said and her hand slid to his, her smile lighting him up before he gave her a short but heartfelt kiss, giggling when his make-up stuck to her skin only to wipe it away somewhat clumsily with his toga. But as long as he smiled and she had him, they would manage any of his fits together.

°His hand wouldn't leave hers, no matter if it was at breakfast, where they often played with the food and fed Dundus, which Geta let pass with a small smile. ,,I have a surprise today at the Coloseum,” Caracalla said, sharing her joy and curiosity as they entered the Coloseum together, the inhabitants celebrating the empress and sharing her love of animal fights. A fight in which she clung to Caracalla who clung to her as they let tigers into the ring, ,,You will win my pretty cats!” she shouted and not only Caracalla but also the spectators joined in as the feline predators attacked the gladiators. There were little surprises of new collars for her pet or she gave Caracalla a little new dress for Dundus it was a level on which the two got along by day as well as by night...

NSFW

°They loved each other that was out of the question, above all the how, when and where was something that set Caracalla apart from his brother. As much as he lost himself in his mind, lost himself too much in the madness, the more he needed his wife with him, on him and above all in his bedchamber. When torches illuminate the two of them, Caracalla not only wants to be entertained, he also wants to enjoy earthly pleasures together with his wife. With sweet grapes and a little wine, which is all just a little hesitation of the big picture before his hands lay on her and the first thing he does is to undress her, ,,You're even more beautiful without it!" he chuckled and looked at her body in front of him as if spellbound.

°Even though she was only a little younger than him, he took his role and especially his power seriously on nights like this, ,,Trust your emperor, it'll be fun,” he promised before kissing his way down her body, even though there was always a smile on his lips, there was a look of lust in his eyes, a silent desire for her and no one else. She was his and not his brother's, she was his alone and no one else's, a thing he made clear to her with every kiss that turned into a little bite, every little bite marring her skin and turning him on more and more when he saw what he had done to her.

°Caracalla is someone who needs entertainment, whether it's new games in the coloseum or new methods in the bedroom, everything that amuses the blond needs to be played out. He won't stop in the bedroom either, demanding to try it out rather than responding to his wife, ,,You'll look beautiful with the rope like my prey,” he announced, holding out the rope and showing her the parchments with various pictures and instructions. Whether of ropes his blue eyes looked fascinated as her body was wrapped with it, as the marks remained on her skin and he kissed her, knowing that he could always push her a little further because in the end he was still the Emperor of Rome and she his wife.

°Up to daggers and blood, he would try anything. Watching the blade press against her naked body a little harder and harder, watching her skin break slightly as her hips pushed harder against hers, “Beautiful!“ he groaned and her whimpers were drowned in his licking as he experienced his coloseum tears, the desire finally soothing, finally feeling the blood on his hands as he stroked the wounds, as he bit her and heard her sweet sounds, it was like music to his ears, the best concert, the best entertainment his beloved wife could give him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @qardasngan , @somepallings , @songbirdmunson , @sweeteststing

[piltoverspitfighter]

“or maybe at least have some internal conflict between her empathy and love for caitlyn and the reality that these people have ruined her life.”

but wasn’t that already shown when vi couldn’t swallow the fact that caitlyn offered her a badge? she explained—over and over again—that she cannot wear it. she refuses to wear it. she has been telling caitlyn the same exact words since the first season and she immediately left the kiramman house when caitlyn couldn’t understand her point of view.

“instead she’s all about caitlyn’s grief and completely turns against her sister, and is literally willing to kill her last remaining family member to avenge... the piltover council.”

caitlyn set her free, caitlyn treated her and brought her back to zaun, caitlyn was there when sevika was about to finish vi, caitlyn was there to aid vi’s injury—exchanging her most priced possession since she was a child for a drop of shimmer that can cure vi. caitlyn was there and was willing to sacrifice herself when they were ‘captured’, caitlyn was there when everyone was opposing vi in the council for trying to make a stand for zaun, and caitlyn eventually helped vi find her little sister. even if i don’t list all the things that caitlyn has done for vi, all she had ever known is violence; it’s impossible not to blame vi for not taking that ounce of kindness for granted when it is finally offered to her table.

no matter how harsh life was for the people of zaun, especially vi’s family, vander made sure they were always loved by him—something that vi couldn’t wrap her head around when she watched jinx blast that rocket off towards the council—not knowing caitlyn’s mother is also sitting right behind it. even if it wasn’t, those people still have a family to come home to like vi was about to. yes, vi was willing to fight for a better life that her little sister deserves, but it wasn’t going revolve around violence.

maybe powder is truly long gone, and jinx—the monster that was born in this world to create chaos—is what truly remains because who could ever do such a thing? but after seeing isha point a gun right in her face as she raised her gauntlet right in jinx’s face, she also realized how far she had also gone. didn’t she throw that uniform away and left her post right after that argument? these sisters were always doomed not to understand each other, they are worlds apart. they are distinct, but what brings them back to each other is the unconditional love that they have for one another that goes beyond words and i think it’s time that we accept that.

you'd think vi would be at least a little bit conflicted on how to feel about jinx killing caitlyin's mom (a member of the council). like yes, she loves caitlyn and caitlyn is sad, but vi was no1 piltover hater when she was a kid, and then spent the entirety of her adolescence in prison under cassandra's rule. she's lost her family and her childhood because of these people. you'd think she'd maybe look at jinx firing that rocket and think "y'know what... based" or maybe at least have some internal conflict between her empathy and love for caitlyn and the reality that these people have ruined her life.

instead she's all about caitlyn's grief and completely turns against her sister, and is literally willing to kill her last remaining family member to avenge... the piltover council.

[isak-dot-gov]

Christmas Arguments

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader

Word count: 1082

Summary: After an argument on Christmas Eve, Nika and her wife wake up to a tense Christmas morning, skipping their usual gift-opening tradition.

My Masterlist :)

..........................................................

The argument had started over something small, as arguments often do. A joking suggestion to skip visiting your parents for Christmas dinner from Nika spiraled into a clash of stubbornness and miscommunication. By the time you both went to bed, the festive mood was replaced by silence and turned backs. It was the first time in years that you and Nika hadn’t said “I love you” before falling asleep.

Christmas morning was usually your favorite—a tradition of unwrapping gifts together, snuggling in pajamas, and enjoying the quiet intimacy of your little family before the whirlwind of visiting relatives. But this morning was different. The weight of last night lingered, an unspoken tension filling the air as you woke up and began your day.

Nika stirred beside you, her hand reaching out instinctively, but you had already slipped out of bed. Her touch might have softened you if you’d let it, but your pride held you back. Instead, you busied yourself getting ready, skipping the matching holiday PJs you’d picked out weeks ago and opting for something simple and practical. If she wanted to avoid fixing things, so would you.

As you applied a quick swipe of makeup in the bathroom, Nika appeared in the doorway. Her hair was tousled from sleep, and the usual twinkle in her eye was dim.

“Are we... not doing presents this morning?” she asked hesitantly.

You paused but didn’t turn around. “We’ll be late to my parents’ house if we stop to do all that.”

Her lips parted as though to say more, but she stopped herself. With a small nod, she left you alone, and a pang of guilt threatened to crack your resolve. But you pushed it aside, determined to hold onto your frustration.

The car ride to your parents’ house was painfully quiet. Normally, you’d be laughing and singing along to Christmas music, stealing glances at each other and sneaking kisses at stoplights. Today, Nika’s hands were tight on the wheel, and her jaw was set as she focused on the road. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window at the snow-dusted landscape.

When you arrived, the warmth of your family’s welcome felt like stepping into another world. Hugs were exchanged, compliments about the decorations were made, and the cheerful chaos of Christmas unfolded around you. You and Nika played your parts well, smiling and laughing when needed. But beneath the surface, the tension between you was a palpable undercurrent.

Nika stayed close to you, as she always did, her hand occasionally brushing against yours. But instead of making your heart flutter as it usually would, it only reminded you of the gap between you. Still, your family didn’t seem to notice. The two of you had always been good at keeping disagreements private.

The day dragged on, each stolen glance and awkward silence adding to the emotional weight. When it was finally time to leave, you both sighed in unison, though for different reasons. You were exhausted from pretending everything was fine; Nika seemed simply exhausted.

The drive home was darker, quieter. The festive lights along the streets seemed muted, the twinkling reds and greens mocking the mood in the car. Nika’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and her occasional sighs filled the silence. You stared out the window, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that this fight had gone too far.

When you pulled into the garage, you reached for the door handle, ready to escape into the house and avoid another tense exchange. But before you could open the door, Nika’s voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

It was soft, almost broken, and it froze you in place. You turned slowly to find her still in her seat, her head bowed and shoulders trembling. Her hands gripped her knees, and when she looked up, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Please don’t go,” she said, her voice cracking.

Your breath hitched at the sight of her vulnerability. “Nika—”

“I can’t do this,” she interrupted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I feel like I’m losing you, and it’s killing me. You’ve been so distant all day, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I can.” Her voice broke on the last word, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

Your heart shattered. “What? Nika, no,” you said, reaching out to touch her arm. “You’re not losing me. Why would you think that?”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands covering her face. “Because I messed up last night, and instead of talking to me, you shut me out. You didn’t even look at me this morning. I thought maybe… maybe you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest. You hadn’t meant for your actions to hurt her this deeply. The anger you’d clung to felt trivial now, and all you could see was the woman you loved breaking down in front of you.

“Oh, Nika,” you whispered, moving closer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just hurt and being petty. I thought if I ignored you, you’d understand how upset I was. But I never—never—want you to think I don’t want to be with you. You’re my everything.”

She sniffled, looking up at you with tear-filled eyes. “I’m so sorry for last night. I hate fighting with you, especially at Christmas. I just… I love you so much, and I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

You cupped her face in your hands, wiping away her tears with your thumbs. “You’re never going to lose me, Nika. I love you too much for that. We’re going to fight sometimes, but we’ll always come back to each other. I promise.”

She nodded, her hands coming up to cover yours. “I promise, too.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, and the tension that had built up over the past 24 hours melted away. When you pulled back, her small smile warmed your heart.

The rest of the evening was spent curled up on the couch, finally opening your gifts to each other. The weight of the day lifted with each laugh and whispered “I love you,” and by the time you went to bed that night, you were both at peace, knowing that your love was strong enough to weather any storm—even Christmas arguments.

[wassupmygays]

every time i listen to Runs in The Family (Reprise), i think about how Scared sodapop must be

"maybe i should finally just walk on out" darry screams, "you'd be one less thing for me to worry about!"

and suddenly soda is thinking about how much darry does for them. how much he works, how much he cleans, how much he cooks, how much money he brings in. and soda knows he cannot do that. he cant do what darry does, and if hes gone... what would happen to him and ponyboy?

"leave you boys, im heading back to school! im tired of lifting you up, tired of playing the fool"

darry cant leave. he cant. he wouldnt. soda knows this. but what if hes wrong? its looking more and more like he wont be able to de-escalate this argument, and what would happen then? he always hopes and prays that the next argument would be the last, but they always just keep growing and growing. would this be darry's final straw if soda couldnt hold them together?

"Start a new life in a different town, there aint no tellin' where i'd go without you draggin me down"

soda knows hes right. he knows that darry couldve gotten out and made a life for himself if he didnt have to devote every waking hour to making sure him and pony didnt get sent away. and god if soda didnt feel a shit ton of guilt for that every day.

"picture life without ole' Darry around!"

god soda doesnt ever want to imagine that. even if darry wasnt the one holding their family together, he wouldnt ever want to picture a life without his big brother. he loves him too much. he needs him. even before their parents died he needed his big brother there. hes never known a life without darry and he never wants to.

but he also can't sit and dwell with this fear because hes gotta de-escalate everything. and darry is yelling, and now ponyboy is yelling, and poor johnny is watching all of this and now theyre screaming. and ponyboy is saying maybe Darry should just leave and oh my god why cant they just stop fighting

and then suddenly darry has slapped ponyboy and soda watches him and johnny sprint out the front door. he doesnt even know how any of it happened. and god he prays that darry wont leave now.

he cant lose both of them

[orangeblossomsintheair]

DON’T BE A STRANGER – CS55

summary : faceless driver + secretly royalty carlos sainz w leclerc!reader

wc : 2k

an : ring ding ding ding- its me again >:)) what an amazing week this has been on the website, thxx everyone. i mostly just wrote this so the idea could stop bludgeoning me

The faceless driver of Ferrari steps onto the paddock like a rumor, all sharp lines and shadows, the prickle of something not quite real. They call him Sainz, only Sainz, as if a single name could hold the weight of everything unknown.

His helmet never comes off.

Never.

Not on the podium, not in interviews, not in moments of victory or failure.

A flawless red shell. He is the mirror they didn’t ask for, the face they’ll never see. And that, perhaps, is the point.

And the rumors? Oh, the rumors.

They twist through the paddock like smoke from an invisible fire, impossible to pin down but inescapable all the same. Louder than the engines sometimes, they cling to the corners of conversations, the edges of glances, until the air is thick with questions no one dares to answer.

After all, the motorsports world is small, excruciatingly tight-knit, and talent doesn’t spring from nowhere. It has roots. And roots, as everyone in the paddock knows, have a way of surfacing when you dig deep enough.

Surely, he belongs to someone.

People don’t just rise to the pinnacle of Formula 1 without a trail to follow, without whispers of their origin. There are always breadcrumbs: the karting academy, the private sponsors, the family connections that weave a web so tight it’s impossible to escape.

And yet, with Sainz, the web feels intentionally erased.

Which is why the theories have grown, wild and unruly, feeding on the silence Ferrari so fiercely maintains.

Some say he’s royalty.

“Think about it,” one engineer murmured late one evening over drinks at the hospitality tent. “It makes sense. Why else would Ferrari go to such lengths to protect him? Royals love their secrets.”

“Royals?” The mechanic across from him snorted into his beer. “You’ve been reading too many tabloids. Royals don’t hide. They thrive on attention.”

“Not if they’ve got something to lose.”

“Like what? A throne?”

The first engineer leaned back, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Why not? Formula 1’s full of money, right? What’s the difference between a billionaire’s kid and a prince? Nothing. Except one of them has a crown.”

The argument has traction, though. The idea that Sainz is an heir to a European throne, Spanish, most likely, has fueled countless debates, forums, and conspiracy threads.

“Think about it,” fans say online, dissecting every detail like forensic scientists. “A prince could afford the best. He’d have access to elite training, connections, and anonymity if he wanted it. He’d be untouchable.”

And yet, skeptics roll their eyes at the notion. “If he were a prince,” they argue, “you think Ferrari wouldn’t plaster that all over their marketing? A royal in the red? They’d be printing posters and selling merch faster than the car hits 200 miles an hour.”

It’s a fair point. Ferrari doesn’t just protect Sainz, they shield him, encase him in layers of secrecy that feel deliberate, almost sacred.

Why? That’s the question that eats at everyone.

They defend him like he’s the crown jewel of Maranello, and when it comes to Ferrari, you don’t defend just anyone like that. The Scuderia doesn’t go to bat for drivers like they go to bat for Sainz.

Why would Ferrari, a team known for its relentless media machine, its flair for drama, its love of spectacle, choose to keep someone like Sainz hidden?

Why fight tooth and nail to keep his helmet on, even when the FIA itself came knocking?

The fight with the FIA was the turning point.

It started with whispers, rumblings that the governing body was “concerned” about Sainz’s anonymity. Drivers, after all, are public figures. Fans deserve transparency, or so the FIA claimed. There were rumors of mandatory press appearances without helmets, of new regulations aimed squarely at pulling Sainz into the light.

Ferrari’s response was swift, brutal, and uncompromising.

“The helmet stays on,” Luca, Ferrari’s head of PR, told the press during a heated exchange after qualifying in Monaco. His tone brooked no argument. “His performance speaks for itself. His identity is irrelevant.”

When pressed further, Luca leaned into the microphone, his voice like steel. “We protect our drivers. Always. If you have a problem with that, take it up with the board in Maranello.”

Behind closed doors, it was said that Ferrari’s lawyers were already drafting lawsuits before the FIA even made their first official statement. Confidential documents circulated among team principals hinted at Ferrari’s threat to pull out of the championship entirely if Sainz’s privacy was breached.

“They’d never leave,” Toto Wolff scoffed during a press conference. “Ferrari is Formula 1.”

But the threat worked.

The FIA backed down, releasing a carefully worded statement about “respecting driver boundaries” and “valuing individual choices.” And just like that, Sainz’s helmet remained firmly in place, untouchable once more.

It was the kind of move that convinced everyone that Sainz wasn’t just another driver. Ferrari doesn’t go to war for nobodies. They don’t risk their reputation, their legacy, for just anyone.

“He must be someone important,” a junior driver muttered once, staring at Sainz’s car as it glided into the garage. “You don’t get that kind of protection unless you’re…”

“Unless you’re what?”

The driver hesitated, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

But here’s the thing: it’s never enough.

The rumors spread, and with them, the obsession. The more they try to pin him down, the more he slips through their fingers. It’s the perfect magic trick. Sainz isn’t just a driver.

He’s a myth, an idea, a story unfolding with every lap.

He is both the question and the answer.

—-

The paddock is a sensory overload: cameras flashing, fans yelling, mechanics rushing around like their lives depend on it. The heat and humidity press down on you like a second skin.

You weave through the chaos, dodging a camera crew and a gaggle of reporters, the noise too loud, the air too thick.

All you want is a quiet place to breathe.

You pull your phone out and fire off a quick text to Charles. Where are you?

The reply comes almost instantly. Driver’s room. Come here.

Relief washes over you.

Finally, somewhere away from all this madness.

You know the layout of the Ferrari paddock well enough to navigate without issue, your access pass swinging from your neck giving you clearance to move unbothered.

You round a corner and spot a door, slightly ajar, with a sign you swear reads “Leclerc.” Close enough. Without thinking, you push it open and step inside.

It’s quieter in here, the noise from outside muffled by thick walls. You let out a breath, already feeling the tension in your shoulders begin to ease. But as you glance around, something feels… off.

This isn’t Charles’s room.

The walls are too clean, the floor too pristine. There’s no sign of your brother’s clutter: no jacket thrown over a chair, no half-finished water bottle on the counter. Instead, everything is painfully organized, the space clinical in its perfection. And the overwhelming Ferrari red, too much of it, everywhere, makes your stomach twist.

Before you can retreat, you hear footsteps. Sharp. Purposeful. Coming right toward you.

Your pulse spikes. You freeze, too startled to even turn around. When the figure emerges, it’s not Charles, or a mechanic, or anyone you recognize.

It’s a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, and moving with a kind of quiet intensity that instantly sets you on edge. He’s already pulling a balaclava over his head, but not quickly enough, you catch a glimpse of his sharp jawline, his piercing dark eyes. He stops when he sees you, his body going rigid like a predator caught off guard.

His voice slices through the silence, sharp and low. “Who the fuck are you?”

You flinch, your throat dry as you scramble to explain. “I- uh- this is-”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snaps, cutting you off. His accent is Spanish, his tone icy. “How did you even get in?”

Your brain short-circuits. The balaclava, his tense posture, the way he’s blocking the door—it all screams danger.

Your fingers move before your brain catches up, fumbling for your phone.

“I- uh- just stay right there!” you stammer, raising the phone like it’s a shield. “I’m recording this! You’re not gonna- uh- get away with- whatever you’re doing!”

The man’s eyes narrow. For a moment, he just stares at you, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then, with terrifying speed, he lunges forward and snatches the phone out of your hand.

“Are you serious?” he growls, holding your phone up like it’s a toy. His voice drips with disdain. “You barge into my space, and now you’re trying to record me? Do you even know who I am?”

“No! Do you know who I am?” you snap back, panic making your voice louder than you intended. “You’re the creep in my brother’s driver room! I should be suing you!”

He pauses, his head tilting slightly, confusion flashing across his face. “Your brother?”

“Yes, my brother!” you shout, emboldened by your growing irritation. “Charles Leclerc? Ring a bell?”

His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place- amusement? Annoyance?

“Leclerc,” he repeats, almost like he’s tasting the name.

“Yes! And he’s going to be so pissed when he finds out- ”

“This isn’t his room.”

His words are slow, deliberate, and laced with sarcasm. They hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You blink, your bravado evaporating. “What?”

He gestures lazily toward the door. “The name on the sign. Read it.”

Your stomach churns as you turn to look. There, in bold letters, is a name that definitely isn’t “Leclerc.”

Sainz.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, the realization crashing down on you.

“Anything else you want to accuse me of?”

You stammer out a garbled apology, your face burning with embarrassment. “I- uh- thought- I mean- oh god, I’m so sorry- ”

“You thought,” Sainz interrupts, his voice flat, “so now I’m the creep in your brother’s room? Really?”

Your tongue feels like lead. Every molecule of bravery evaporates under the weight of his piercing stare. “I didn’t- I mean, I-”

He sighs, glancing at the phone in his hand. “Did you take any photos?”

“What?” you squeak.

“Photos.” His tone sharpens, patience wearing thin. “Did you take any?”

“No!” you exclaim, horrified by the implication. “Why would I-”

“Because if you did,” he cuts you off, leaning in slightly, “I’ll sue you.”

You take an involuntary step back. “Sue me? For what?”

“For trespassing,” he replies coolly. “For invading my privacy. For whatever the hell I decide to call it. Take your pick.”

“I didn’t even know this was your room!” you blurt out, frustration bubbling over. “I wasn’t trying to invade anything! And you’re the one wearing a balaclava like some kind of-”

“Like some kind of what?” he challenges, his eyes narrowing.

“Like some kind of criminal!” you fire back, your voice rising in pitch.

For a moment, the tension hangs thick in the air. His lips twitch, almost like he’s trying not to laugh, but his gaze stays icy.

“I wear this because I’m a driver,” he says slowly, like he’s explaining it to a child. “Not because I’m robbing a bank.”

You press your lips together, mortified and furious at the same time. “Look,” you say, holding out your hand for your phone, “this was a mistake. I didn’t mean to walk in here, and I didn’t take any photos. Can I just have my phone back so I can leave?”

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before finally handing it over. “If I find out you lied,” he warns, “I will sue.”

“Noted,” you mutter, clutching your phone like it’s your lifeline.

You spin on your heel, desperate to escape this nightmare, but his voice stops you just as you reach the door.

“And maybe next time,” he calls after you, “learn how to read a sign.”

You don’t turn back. You can’t. Your face is burning, your heart is racing, and the humiliation is seared into your memory forever.

[strawberrykuro]

Heyyyy, what do you think the seraphim WHB were like as children?? Have they always had hostility towards each other? ..maybe you have some headcanons about this? :D

Seraphim childhood

Hey Anon! I'm sorry this took so long but I hope you enjoy this. 💗

Warning: could be ooc, slight angst, could be some misspellings, few mentions of Lucifer before he fell

I don’t think they were particularly hostile to each other when they were younger, it was more of a sibling rivalry between them, and from an outsider's perspective their relationship with each other seemed perfectly fine, it isn’t like they would try to kill each other one day! Haha… (how they were so wrong)

In front of god, they acted like 3 perfect little angels that could do no harm or wrong. Luci tho, knew that they weren’t perfect and it was only when god wasn’t looking, sometimes he would watch them have little arguments over the tiniest of things and he couldn’t lie that he found it adorable in an odd way. There was much more beyond their imagination, so much they had yet to see with their own eyes, and yet… they were fighting over which fruit would win if they were sentient and could fight. (Every time Luci eats any fruit, he thinks of that argument.)

— for each of them individually tho

Before there were 4 seraphim, it was only Michael and Lucifer. Michael spent most of his time with him, as he was like a second parent when God was attending to other matters. The amount of respect and love for his older brother was unexplainable in words; all of his knowledge came from Lucifer, and he’d use it all he knew to hopefully impress him.

When his two younger brothers were created, Michael just looked so confused at his reaction to the news. A new brother? And two of them? Why? Isn’t he and Lucifer enough? Isn’t he enough? What’s so special about these two? After a bit of resharing and some quality time spent together, he gradually got used to it. (Wasn’t always happy about it tho… (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) )

On a lighter note, Micha trying to take care of a young Raphael and Gabriel is funny to me. Consistently having to keep an eye on Raphael because once he took his eye off of him, suddenly Raphael was trying to eat dirt; a cake-shaped dirt cake. Creative? Yes. Healthy? Hell no.

Gabriel on the other hand was cleaner but is the most annoying piece of shit little brother ever. Like it was on sight the moment they made eye contact with each other, these two would do anything to outdo each other, a truly extreme brother rivalry.

— now for the middle

Raphael has always been an odd case. He was quiet as a child but got into the most trouble. Sometimes it seems like he’s looking for someone, and he was, he missed God, and he wanted to be with his father. Whenever he did find him, Raphael would latch onto his leg, hugging him dearly but it didn't seem like God would fully reciprocate that affection.

God would just sigh and murmur to himself on how Raphael escaped again and why no one was properly watching him. It always ends with God picking him up and carrying him all the back, it was like a kid pretending to be asleep so their parent would carry them to bed.

His relationship with his brother is very indifferent, while Gabriel and Raphael have a very obvious hatred toward each other, with Raphael it is more of an annoyance but tolerable. When Raphael was younger, he was a light teaser from here and there, cracking a few jokes on how Michael is such a perfectionist taking so many hours to get dressed, or Gabriel is such a suck-up to God to the point it's embarrassing to watch.

Just middle brother things <3

— and last but not least, the youngest

Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel. The one that his brothers would consider a “tattletale,” “brat,” and anything else under the sun. The way this child could flip a switch too quickly depending on who is in the room is laughable.

He wasn’t God's favorite, but he was the one who got God's attention whenever he wanted, which was 24/7. It wasn’t all bad, God did enjoy it when Gabriel would get curious about something and ask him about his creation. They would sit down as God rambled and Gabriel happily listened.

This ends with… Gabriel "slightly" bragging, but in a specific way. It is common knowledge among the brothers that Gabriel likes to do a prayer before he sleeps, and sometimes these prayers have a twist in the way he words them. They start normally like usual with thanking god and praising him but then you notice him going “Thank you for trusting me the most” or “loving my singing the most” etc.

Michael hits him with a pillow or tries to suffocate him, whatever shuts him up quicker. Raphael is already asleep so he never notices this. (Gabriel stopped this behavior when he got older.)

[gloomysoup]

home is where you are

@steddiebingo prompts: hurt/comfort (main card) and home (christmas card)

rating: Teen+ | word count: 2400 | tags: omegaverse, alpha eddie, omega steve, mpreg, insecure steve harrington, hurt/comfort, fluff | ao3

Eddie came home from work to absolute chaos. Addie and Violet were sitting on the living room floor, arguing over whether to put the white lights or the colored lights on the Christmas tree, which he had put up the night before. Addie wanted white, but Violet wanted colored. Eddie was almost certain none of their lights from last year were even going to work, so they'd have to buy new ones anyway. James and Lucy were fighting over an orange crayon at the coffee table, two blank pieces of paper and a whole assortment of other colored crayons in front of them. Steve and their youngest, Grace, were nowhere to be seen, but Eddie could hear movement in the kitchen. Eddie quickly slipped his boots off at the door and swooped in to de-escalate all the arguing.

He started by grabbing a second, emergency, box of crayons from the cabinet that held the art supplies. He pulled out an orange one and handed it to Lucy, so she would stop trying to take the other one from her brother. Then he moved to the older two girls, squatting down in front of them and picking up two strings of lights.

“Why don't we put the lights away for now, my loves? They probably don't even work. I’ll take you both to the store this week and we can pick some new ones out together. How does that sound?”

They easily agreed, and Eddie was incredibly grateful that everything was solved quickly tonight. Once all of the pups were settled and occupied, not a single argument left to be had, Eddie moved to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway to smile at what he found. Steve was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of boiling macaroni noodles with Grace on his hip. He was swaying back and forth, softly humming a lullaby as he did.

Eddie slid up behind him, leaning in with a hand on Steve’s other hip to kiss his cheek. “Evenin', beautiful,” he whispered. Steve smiled and turned his head to get a proper kiss.

“Hey, baby. How was work?” Steve asked after they had separated.

Grace was grinning, trying to scramble from Steve’s hold while saying, “Da!”

Eddie shrugged, taking Grace into his own arms. “Nothin’ new. Missed you, though. How was your day? Pups drive you too crazy?”

Steve hummed in consideration. “Hectic. Lots of arguments today. Oh, Lucy broke one of the nice glasses that Joyce got us. She was trying to be like Addie and Violet and help put the dishes away, but she dropped it and it shattered. Everyone was okay, though, and I’m pretty sure I got all the glass cleaned up.”

Eddie’s hand looped around further to rest on Steve’s swollen belly. “And how was the little one today? Not causing too much trouble, I hope?”

Steve huffed a small laugh. “Not letting me actually get anything done today.” He put down his spoon and leaned back into Eddie’s chest. “Every time I finally got the rest of the pups settled down enough to do something, I either had to pee or sit down for a little bit. By the time I was done, someone else needed something, and the cycle repeated.”

“That's okay,” Eddie murmured, nuzzling his nose against the shell of Steve’s ear and taking a deep breath of his scent. He always loved how much sweeter his mate smelled during pregnancy. It was one of his favorite parts of the experience. “I'll finish the chores for you after dinner. You just worry about relaxing.”

“Eddie, no,” Steve argued, moving to stir the pasta again. “You just worked a ten-hour shift. You shouldn't have to come home and do everything here too. I'll take care of it.”

“You will do no such thing.” Eddie adjusted his hold on Grace, who was snuggled against his chest after not seeing him since the night before. She had been the only one still asleep when Eddie left for work that morning. “You chased our little pack of hooligans around all day while growing a pup. You deserve to put your feet up and relax for the evening. I'll take care of everything else. Don't worry about anything.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder with a frown. “At least let me help. Then we can get everything done faster.”

Eddie smiled and kissed Steve’s cheek again. “Whatever makes you feel better, my love.”

Dinner in the Munson household that night was quite the affair, as it usually was with five kids under the age of eight. Afterwards, Eddie corralled all the pups upstairs for baths and pajamas while Steve cleaned up in the kitchen. By the time everyone was clean, clothed, and settled on the couch for one last movie before bedtime, Eddie was wrecked. He loved his children more than anything in his life (except maybe Steve), but they were exhausting. He had no idea how his mate did it all day long.

Finally, he started the movie and went to track down his superhero of a partner. It didn't take him long at all. Steve was in the laundry room, loading the washer to get one more in for the evening. Eddie came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his husband and kissing his cheek. He pulled Steve back into his chest and swayed gently. He reveled in the way Steve instantly sank into his hold, body going lax and a sigh of contentment leaving his lips.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Eddie whispered.

“Mmmm, tell me again?” Steve replied just as softly.

“I love you so so so much, my love.” Eddie gently tightened his arms around him. “You are an absolute wonder. I don't know how you deal with our little gremlins all day and not just completely lose your mind.”

Steve hummed, a soft smile on his lips. “They're not so bad. Most days. It helps that Addie, Violet, and James go to school five days a week.”

“A saint,” Eddie said, slowly releasing his hold on Steve to dramatically collapse to his knees in front of him. “I worship on my knees in your holy presence.” As Steve laughed, Eddie leaned forward with his hands on Steve’s sides to press a kiss to his belly. Their pup moved beneath his touch. Eddie would never get tired of the feeling. It always amazed him, just what Steve’s body was capable of, especially when it came to creating life.

“Come on, up off the floor,” Steve finally said, grabbing Eddie’s hand and starting to pull him up. The alpha went easily, rarely one to say no to his omega.

With the pups suitably distracted for at least a little bit longer, Steve and Eddie set about the quiet routine of getting evening chores done. They didn't speak much, just moved around each other in a comfortable silence. Eddie did the day’s dishes and wiped down the countertops while Steve folded laundry at the table. The movie in the living room was still going when Grace started getting fussy. It wasn't long before Violet was calling for them to make her stop.

“I'll get her,” Eddie said softly, not wanting to break the calming atmosphere in the kitchen. Steve nodded, still folding laundry, while Eddie headed for the living room.

Grace was pushing at Lucy when Eddie walked in, and Lucy was quickly losing patience with her little sister. Eddie picked Grace up, trying to remedy the situation, but that just caused a full blown tantrum. She kicked and screamed, fighting against Eddie and her own exhaustion. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. No matter how hard he tried to put out a calming scent to soothe her, it was all for naught. She just kept screaming and kicking and writhing. Steve quickly appeared in the doorway, looking a little worried. As soon as Grace saw him, she reached her arms out.

“Give her here,” he said gently, coming over to take the screaming toddler from Eddie’s arms. “I'll sit with her.”

Eddie nodded and passed her off to Steve, watching as Grace instantly began to calm down. He made sure Steve was comfortable on the couch with Grace curled into his body before leaving to finish cleaning up the kitchen and folding laundry. By the time he was done, the movie was over. All five of their pups were fast asleep on the couch. Grace was curled up on Steve’s lap, her head pillowed on his chest. Lucy was situated firmly in Steve’s side, while the older three were piled up and stretched out across the other cushions.

Eddie was extremely careful in his extraction. He took Addie and Violet upstairs to the room they shared first, then James to his room. When he came back, he slowly picked up Lucy and let her burrow into his neck while Steve carefully tried to stand up with Grace. It was a lot harder the further along this pregnancy got, but Steve was nothing if not determined. He never let anything slow him down; not even being nearly eight months pregnant. Again, superhero. Eddie was obsessed with him.

After a very long, very chaotic night, all of the pups were finally tucked away in their beds. Eddie and Steve could actually take a minute to breathe without someone needing something. As they did every night, once the children were tucked in and sound asleep, they curled up on the couch together with some random movie they'd seen a hundred times before. It was more for the noise and familiarity than the movie itself. Steve was tucked against Eddie’s side, his head resting where he could hear Eddie’s heartbeat, just like every night. Eddie held him close, breathing in Steve’s scent and letting himself finally relax for the first time all day. They both remained quiet for a while.

Something deep down in his gut was telling Eddie that something was wrong. Something was bothering Steve, festering in his mind. Before he got the chance to ask, Steve was opening his mouth to speak.

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” he asked so softly, Eddie almost didn't catch it. If their house hadn't been so quiet, he might not have heard him.

“What do you mean?” Eddie tightened his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Steve shrugged as best he could from under Eddie’s arm. “I just- Do you think all of this is just a big mistake?” Eddie’s heart shattered at the broken lilt to Steve’s voice, the tremble of his words. “Is having another baby a mistake?”

Eddie frowned, trying so hard to control his scent. “Of course not. What's wrong, baby? Where is this coming from?”

Steve sniffled a little, pressing his cheek a little more firmly into Eddie’s chest. “I don't know. I just- We already have five kids, Eddie. Our- our house isn't that nice. We don't really have a whole lot of extra money. And with Grace’s medical bills… maybe- maybe we should have just stopped after James, or Lucy. Maybe everyone was right, and this is all just a big mistake.”

Eddie shook his head, feeling the fabric of his t-shirt start to dampen. “Absolutely not,” he said. He pulled away, shifting so he could fully look at Steve. “Baby, this is not a mistake. I don't know who’s putting these ideas in your head, but they're wrong. So what if we don't have the nicest house in Hawkins? That's never mattered. Not to me, not to the pups. It's just a house, Stevie. And so what if we don't have all the money in the world? Our family has a roof over their heads, clothes on their bodies, and they never have to worry about going hungry. Our pups are loved. Why should anything else matter?”

Fat tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks. Eddie caught them with his thumbs as he cradled Steve’s face in his hands.

“I love you, Steve Munson,” he continued, unable to stop now that he was on a roll. “I love you, and I love our pups, and I love our life. I don't care about money, or our house. All I care about is our family. Our five little pups, who bring me so much joy every single day. Sweet little Sophia, who is going to be so loved, just like her siblings. You, the love of my absolute life, who has given me so much to be grateful for.”

Tears were welling up in Eddie’s eyes against his permission. He just loved Steve so much, and he hated seeing him so upset.

“Eddie,” Steve whispered, voice shaking with his emotions.

“Stevie, honey, I cannot even begin to tell you just how amazing I think you are. How strong, capable, loving, and wonderful. The greatest gift of my life is getting to be a dad, and you have given that to me six times now. I am so deeply in love with you, and our big family. I would never trade any of our pups for anything in the entire world. I don't need a fancy house or money, because you and our babies are my home. I don't care what anyone else has to say about it. I am obsessed with you and our six little pups, this house with its scattered Christmas decorations that we haven't had the time to put up yet, and every single other thing about this little life we’ve built for ourselves. Fuck everyone else. This is the only thing that matters.”

Eddie held Steve to his chest as he cried, rubbing his back and whispering all of his love into Steve’s ear in the hope that it would sink beneath his skin and stay there forever.

Later, Grace will wake up and need Eddie to put her back to sleep. Later, Lucy will crawl into bed with them and cuddle up to Steve. Later, Eddie will help Steve make breakfast before going to work. Later, they’ll put up decorations and stick the Christmas presents under the tree. Later, they’ll have a newborn in the house, someone else for Eddie to love with everything he has.

Later, Eddie will still be deeply in love with the home that he and Steve have built together, regardless of what anyone else has to say about it.

[alfredojesta]

jason is just a sad little victorian boy ...

i know it's christmas but i don't celebrate so i get to make the least jolliest comic!!! ^o^ i'm like the grinch but i make pastas suffer!

gonna talk about his family life below. heavy tw for abuse and physical assault (bullying)

okay so. jason was alive around... 1880-1920? smth like that. not sure on the details yet. this is gonna be a really rough post.

his father (charles meyer) was the AHEM man of the house. always in charge. controlling and humourless.

his mother (charlotte meyer) (no they're not cousins) was timid and mostly kept in the background.

jason is their only son for they could not make another </3

charlotte was erm. frightened by charles. sometimes, she would speak out against him. tell him to think about his actions—but he'd yell back, and they would get into a back and forth argument.

jason unfortunately witnessed these fights of theirs. he never once stepped in, but holy shit did these fights shape his little child brain.

while his family life sucked—so did his social life. kids at school picked on him for being him (he's autistic and struggled w talking to people). his only friend was the sweetest girl on the playground: amelia, but he feared her leaving him because he was "pathetic".

his father hated jason for getting bullied. charles perceived jason as weak, and to toughen him up, he'd regularly beat him up, basically.

if jason got terribly injured, he'd get hit just because he didn't stand up for himself. it wasn't rare for jason to come home with a bunch of bruises. piling on those bruises with the ones he got from his father, too. he hated looking at himself. he hated all the things people did to him. he wanted control of his own life, of his body, and the people around him.

but he wouldn't get it. not then.

while his father hurt him—his mother tried to help him. she'd bandage his wounds, n tell him that charles doesn't mean what he says and that both of them love jason very much.

jason wanted that to be true. he wanted his parents to love him. that's all he strived for in life. making them proud.

HOWEVER. jason is really into toymaking, which neither of his parents support, and he spends a lot of his time working on toy projects. both charles and charlotte have had discussions about this.

charles considers jason to be broken. at first, charlotte thinks charles is ridiculous for saying that about their only son. then, as jason starts showing more signs of his... lack of social skills—charlotte starts to think. there really IS something wrong with her son

(THERE'S NOTHING WRONG W HIM HE'S JUST AUTISTIC AND HIS SPECIAL INTEREST IS MAKING TOYS)

anyway this notion his parents set made jason think he's broken. and the only thing that matters in life is perfection.

happy holidays

[piko-rose]

There's something about the Sonic 3 Movie I need to ramble about right now when it comes to the Wachowski Bros/Team Sonic.

[SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT]

When I first saw the movie, I never really get the chance to properly process certain things.

But I came across that shot of Sonic, Tails and Knuckles landing on a field after Knuckles saved them by throwing a ring portal.

They way they held onto each other after making a rough landing. The way Knuckles held onto them tight even after they landed. The way Tails and Sonic were held close to him. They way that, even though ones more unconscious than the other, they felt their presence. They felt their arms.

They felt the safety around them even though seconds ago they were plummeting from space. They nearly died just to be there for each other.

Sonic just had an argument with Knuckles over the Master Emerald, with Tails being stuck in the middle, not knowing what to do to calm them both down.

They just had a fight, but despite it all, Knuckles AND Tails jumped from the ARK/Eclipse Cannon to save their teammate.

Their brother.

Despite their fight from before, they still love him. They refuse to lose the one hedgehog who gave them a better life after so long.

That ONE shot, even before Sonic's apology, was the BIGGEST way of saying, without words, that despite everything, they will always be Team Sonic.

I just, cried, looking at that shot. I finally processed that one shot I've been dreaming of since 202-freaking-2.

I burst into tears, seeing my favorite childhood found family sibling trio, lying on a field, beaten up, survived from a great fall, holding onto each other, despite everything that went down moments before all that.

Even if the oath was broken, their bond won't ever be.

And that was a pretty good reason to sob over lol

[sassypossum]

It Started With The Wine...And Ended With a Ring

Shiu Kong x Reader [Jelly aka Shiuelly] CW: Nipple Play, Overall Steamy Holiday Shenanigans, MDNI Word Count: 1.7k My submission for the secret santa event hosted by the lovely @nanamiscocksleeve, thank you for having me lovely!!! Jelly, @lazyjellyfish300, surprise angel and Merry Christmas!!! I hope you like this one dedicated to you and your man, Shiu 😊😘[inspired by 'Fine' it's a broadway JAM]

Loving a man like Shiu Kong has its hazards. You’d known that from the start. Even before that fateful night where’d you’d been his accomplice, aiding and abetting in the disposal of a body. 

No, you’d known it from the moment your eyes had locked months and months ago at the aquarium. There’d been something in his eyes, something in the way his dimples flashed when his smile was just a touch too wide- something that set your skin ablaze and your soul alight with a myriad of possibilities. 

However, of all the hazards you’d considered, you hadn’t considered wine shopping a particularly hazardous activity- until you’d tried to do so with Shiu Kong. 

“Darling, we’re serving fish.” 

“Yes, angel, I know that.” 

Pushing your purse back onto your shoulder, you folded your arms and watched your boyfriend in dry bemusement. “And yet, you’re still holding a bottle of Cabernet.” 

“What’s wrong with Cabernet?” Shiu’s eyes flit to meet yours and he raises a brow. Closing your eyes, you bite the inside of your cheek and count to ten. 

“Darling, we can’t serve red wine with fish, they simply don’t pair.” You sigh heavily through the words as though this were the simplest concept that even a child could understand. If the way Shiu’s eyes narrowed was any indication, he didn’t appreciate your tone. 

“Pardon my ignorance. I didn't know we were hosting royalty.” He said cooly, turning the bottle over in his hand and examining the label. Bristling at his tone, you had to bite back the urge to throw a catty quip back at him. 

Not the time or place. Not the time or place. You repeated the mantra to yourself several times in an effort to soften the edge of annoyance tickling at your nerves. 

“How about a nice Riesling?” You offered diplomatically, silently praying he’d take the proverbial olive branch. 

Shiu’s eyes flicked up again from the bottle and he assessed you for a long moment. “When have you ever seen me drink Riesling?” The words were condescending, but you couldn’t help the fluttering in your stomach at his teasing tone and the way his eyes flickered with barely contained amusement. 

In the end, you’d compromised and gotten both bottles of wine- Riesling for you, Cabernet for him. Afterall, in his own words, ‘you’d still be right and he’d still get drunk’. That seemed to be the nature of most of your arguments- not that you’d call them arguments exactly… 

Most of the time the two of you were in perfect alignment on every decision, and on the off chance that you found yourself at odds, there always seemed to be a solution. Shiu had a distinct distaste for fighting. If an issue were that capable of coming between the two of you, his solution was always- and without fail- to sit down and talk it through. 

This ability to compromise was probably what kept the disagreements to a minimum. As to whether tonight was an exception or there was something about the stress of the season you couldn’t be sure, but what had started with a gentle compromise over wine was slowly devolving into an opportunity for you to lob dry barbs and thinly veiled passive aggressive attacks at each other. 

You’d been perfectly fine when you’d stepped out of the wine shop. Shiu had stepped to the curb to hail a cab while you’d stood under a lamppost, bottles carefully wrapped in brown paper tucked under your arm…

And then it started to rain.  

“I told you to bring an umbrella.” Silence. Pausing midstep, you turned to look up at Shiu through the biting rain. “Shiu, I’m speaking to you.” Shiu came to a halt and cursed under his breath. Pulling the collar of his coat up, he looked down at you in annoyance. 

“Is that what you’re doing? Because it sounds a lot more like you’re bitching at me, babydoll.” Flinching at the hard edge to his tone, you chose to ignore the icy water pooling in your heels and glared up at him. 

“And as much as I’d love to stand here and take a verbal beating, we could be walking.” He snapped, fishing into his pocket for a cigarette with rehearsed ease. In hindsight you’re not exactly sure what about that moment did it, but you snapped. All the stress, all the anxiety over the holidays, everything bubbled up into a beautiful crescendo and tumbled down your cheeks in streams of hot tears. 

“Baby-” Shiu murmured, pulling you into his arms with a desperation that overshadowed his previous irritation. You went to him easily, careless of the wrapped bottles that clattered to the ground- miracle of Christmas miracles, they didn’t shatter. 

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” You whimpered breathlessly between sobs. 

“Shh, shh, no baby, no, I’m sorry.” Tugging you up against his firm form, Shiu peppered kisses over your dampened hair. Half uttered apologies were murmured between tears and sniffles, and as the bottles were retrieved, the kisses grew hungrier with the promise of properly making up.

Your back hit the front door with a soft thud. Shiu’s fingers tangled in your hair, using the damp strands as leverage to tilt your head back. A rumble of appreciation bubbled up from his chest at the site of your prone throat before he began ravaging the sensitive flesh with hungry, open mouthed kisses. 

Your own hands flew to the lapels of his coat. The bottles clattered to the floor- or more aptly- shattered as they made contact with the hardwood flooring. Startling with a surprised squeal, you jerked back and looked frantically towards the mess. 

“Shiu, I’m sorry-” The words died on your tongue as Shiu’s fingers deftly pushed the coat from your shoulders, sending it to join the broken glass on the floor. 

“Sorry for what?” He murmured, pulling back just long enough to gently tug your jumper off. You flushed furiously at the unbridled lust in his eyes and gestured sheepishly towards the growing pile of clothing obscuring the growing puddle of wine. Shiu’s eyes lingered on the mess, all the while reaching around you to unhook your bra. “Fuck the wine.” He grumbled huskily, cupping your breasts. 

You opened your mouth to protest, only to moan softly when he flattened his tongue against a sensitive nipple. Eyes fluttering shut, you clenched your thighs as his thumb circled the other nipple teasingly. “I said,” Gripping your thighs, he hoisted you up against the wall and pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. “Fuck the wine.” 

The next several hours faded into a pleasurable purple haze as Shiu brought you to the edge of release against that wall several times before finally giving into your pleas and whimpers for more. Tossing you onto the massive bed you’d shared and made love in for the past year, Shiu brought you to the precipice of bliss, and plunged over the edge with you time and time again. 

Only after he had you in his arms- shattered, spent and sated, did Shiu recall the small velvet box burning a hole in the drawer next to the bedside.  

The dinner party ended up being one of your favorites. Whether that had anything to do with your skills as a hostess, the several orgasms the cocky shit at the head of the table had wrung out of you, or the large diamond now adorning your finger- courtesy of said cocky shit- you couldn’t say. 

“You outdid yourself, sweetheart.” You smiled softly as a pair of arms you were intimately familiar with slipped around your waist. “I’m surprised you still have any energy after this afternoon.” Shiu purred coyly before pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. Leaning back into him with a contented sigh, you turn your face to catch his lips in a chaste kiss. 

“And what happened this afternoon, Mr. Kong?” You murmured playfully against his lips. Shiu chuckled and ran his thumb over the knuckles of your left hand, pausing to stroke your ring finger suggestively. 

“I asked the love of my life to marry me.” You shivered at the husky dip in his voice. Turning in his arms, you ran your hands down his chest and studied his eyes- marvelling at the deep burnt umber that looked back at you. So different from the amber hued gaze of your deceased love, but no less dear. 

The laughter and chatter of your loved ones on the other side of the door seemed to dull to a muffled din as the moment lingered. Shiu’s hand cupped your jaw tenderly. You pressed a kiss to his palm roughened by the nature of his work and stained by the blood of sordid dealings. 

“What'd she say?” You murmured, smoothing back an errant lock of his hair that’d fallen across his forehead.  His eyes danced playfully, and he’d barely formed a response before Toji slid open the glass door.  

“Hey, I hate to break up whatever this is-” He drawled, resting an arm against the door frame. 

“What is it Fushiguro?” Shiu snapped, rounding on the taller man with an exasperated huff. Toji’s lips quivered at the corner in obvious delight at his colleagues' irritation before he hooked his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. 

“The dog knocked over a bottle of wine.” 

“Stella knocked a bottle of wine off the table?” You folded your arms and looked askance at the reprobate. Without missing a beat Toji mirrored your stance. 

“Yeah, the dog.” He shrugged. 

“You expect me to believe that my darling angel, my sweet baby that can’t even reach the table top on her hindlegs knocked a bottle of wine off the table?” At Toji’s second noncommittal shrug you huffed. 

“Tell me again why we had to invite him?” Shiu muttered under his breath as he fished into his pockets raggedly for a cigarette. 

“Unfortunately he’s dating one of my best friends.” You murmur quietly, stilling his hand and retrieving one of his cigarettes easily. Shiu smiled gratefully and his eyes twinkled as you handed him a lighter. “Besides, you love him.” 

Taking a long drag, Shiu breathed out a plume of smoke and scoffed. “Debatable.” 

“You two do know I’m still standing here.” Toji grumbled dryly. 

“We know.” 

Loving a man like Shiu Kong has its hazards, but none that can’t be solved with a little communication and a little wine… Riesling and Cabernet. Except for Toji Fushiguro… that’s one hazard nobody can solve. 

[ak-fantasies]

Meant to Be

Hongjoong Imagine

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Angst 

Summary: You meet him again, with a new girl.

(a/n: happy holidays everyone ! another story from the dungeon)

As soon as you walked into the room, the loud music fills your senses and your ears. After a few months of working on yourself, you finally felt proud of where you were. You were able to reached your dreams but the memories of another still scratches the back of your thoughts. You could here the loud laugh that you recognized so much. 

“(Y/n)!!” That familiar laugh stops and greets you.

“Wooyoung!!” You say with a smile, embracing him in a hug. 

Here you were at the party by one of your best friend Wooyoung. You all sat around and talked and you caught up with some of your old friends. Some you haven’t seen since high school. 

“So you and San finally got together?!” You exclaimed hearing that one of your good friend from high school, Luna and San finally got together. 

“What about you?” Another friend, Sori, asked. Before you could say anything, you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey!” You turned to see Hongjoong standing there, with someone behind him. The memories hit you hard after seeing him. 

“Glad to see that you’ve made it.” Wooyoung said, inviting the two to come and sit.

“This is my girlfriend, Yona.” Hongjoong introduced the girl. You could feel your chest tighten.

“I have to say something..” Hongjoong interrupted your thought as you were staring at the homework in front of you. You looked at Hongjoong, confused. Though your relationship wasn’t easy, you two had made it through the fights and arguments. You always thought your relationship was strong, nothing could break it.

“Hmm?” You hummed, finally writing something down on the homework. Hongjoong stood up and took a deep breath. 

“I think we need to break up..” Hongjoong said, causing you to freeze in your spot. You could feel your stomach churn, you wanted to throw up. You looked at him, confused why it was brought up so suddenly. 

“W-why?” You asked. You thought you two were fine, even though the fights and arguments were more often nowadays, you always thought it was just the high stress from your final quarter of college. You two were high school sweethearts and had gotten through college together, now in a couple of weeks, you both were set to graduate. 

“I love you.. I really do but I can’t do it anymore. You have more opportunities to discover for your career and I want to go another direction. I think we should break up. I know you’ll do anything for your dreams, and that means leaving me. I’ll do anything for my dreams, even if it means breaking up.” Hongjoong said, and you couldn’t help but let the tears slip from your eyes. You knew what he said was true. You both wouldn’t be able to give up on your dreams, and it would only create more tension for the two of you. You understood him but you really didn’t want to let him go. You took a deep breath and nodded, telling him you understand, knowing your voice would only fail you. 

“Goodbye (y/n)..” Hongjoong said, leaving you to sit alone. 

You watched Hongjoong and Yona interact with everyone else. You felt your stomach begin to churn, making you almost want to throw up. You came to the party to have a good time, but you’ve should have expected it since it was Wooyoung. Your best friend but also the closest friend to Hongjoong. You had gotten information about how Hongjoong was doing. But you understand why Wooyoung didn’t tell you about Yona. You probably would have been heartbroken again. You took a sip of your drink, plastering a smile on your face as you talked to everyone. When everyone decided to play a game, you decided it was then you should leave. You quietly said your goodbyes to Wooyoung and make your way outside. You took a breath of the cold air. Pulling your jacket tighter around your body, you debated if you should call an uber. 

“Hey..” You heard a voice, causing you to turn around to see Hongjoong standing there.

“Hi..” You said, plastering a small smile. You looked at him, he always looked good.

“How you’ve been?” He asked.

“Good… Good…” You replied, trailing off.

“So, uh sorry you have to find out like this..” He sound apologetic. You looked at the ground before gaining the courage to look him in the eyes.

“Do you love her?” You asked and he smiles and nodded.

“I do.. I don’t regret everything we had. Thank you.” He said, making you take a deep breath. The pain in your heart only increased and the tears became harder to keep in, but you somehow did it. You let out a soft laugh before turning around. 

“Im happy for you..” You said, with your back was facing him, struggling to keep your voice steady. “You should head back.” You say after a bit of silence and Hongjoong took a deep breath.

“Yeah.. Are you okay to go by yourself?” He asked, and you just dreaded it. Why did he have to drag this out? Why was he worry for anyways?

“Yeah… See you sometimes.. maybe.” You said, whispering the last part of that sentence. 

“Let us know when you get back then.” He said and returned back to the party. You let out the breath you held as you heard him leaving. You took off walking down the street, the tears you’ve been holding in finally dropping and continuously sliding down your face. All the memories were good; honestly, you didn’t know where these tears came from. You just wanted the pain to stop... Maybe it was because of all the good times that hurt you the most. You couldn’t help but have sharp pain in your chest as you continued to walk..

[superkooku]

My reactions on the Ithaca saga

Ok since the livestream was cancelled, here are my reactions after listening to the Ithaca saga a second time. These are my first impressions, without reading anyone else's opinion that could have good points. I may change my mind.

The good

That's just repeating myself at this point but the music !!! I'm in love with Epic's musical style. There's not a single song that I don't like musically. This last saga definitely delivered

Using 'Just a man' motif is always gonna get me

Spoilers from here

The end of Hold them down... I expected Antinous to die first since he does in the Odyssey, but not that fast 😂. That genuinely surprised me.

Penelope immediately accepting Odysseus' actions is spot on. I love that. All the OdyPen stuff was sweet, honestly.

The olive tree bed reference (also, I miss the song 'Olive tree' btw)

The meeting with Telemachus was sweet. No, the Ithaca family reunions were all well-done.

Small stuff, but I love the door opening effect in the last song. Epic would benefit from having a bit more sound effects and this is definitely the proof why. We imagine ourselves with Odysseus, as he discovers Penelope again.

The Warrior of the mind callback was really sweet !!

Odysseus (the song) gave me goosebumps. Especially the end, where it's just the suitors screaming until dead silence. I also really like the various singers.

Though when Telemachus sang "Throw down your weapons and I'll ensure you'll be spared", I couldn't stop thinking about that "The king doesn't like those with their hands in the air" thing 😂😂. And I had to pause the song and laugh.

The suitors asking Odysseus to spare them ? That was funny too. They're absolutely pathetic but somewhat threatening.

I like that Telemachus has the courage to fight. Edit : he DID fight, according to the animatics. I had the feeling he needed to contribute to the action and him standing there would be weak, but he did so that's a new positive !!

The less good

While I really liked this saga and don't have that much to point out (no bad surprises like other times), I do have smaller issues with it.

The first doesn't have anything to do with the saga itself but rather me... I regret listening to so much snippets 😅. I knew the Challenge by heart, Hold them down too (until the end), some parts of Odysseus as well. The only song that was totally new for me is "Would you fall in love with me again". Next time Jorge does a musical, I won't touch the snippets. At least not most of them.

I can't help but think that Odysseus' reunion with Athena was a bit rushed. They didn't address the fact that she helped him get out from Calypso's island, how she feels after God Games, or all those years of separation after the argument. I do like that it shows both of their evolutions and the differences them but a bit more in-depth closure (a few seconds longer) would've been even better

Penelope is a bit underdeveloped. Odysseus has his arc, Telemachus too, but she doesn't. She's beautiful in this saga and at least we see some cunning in 'The challenge', I just would've wished she appeared in Wisdom !! That would've solved the problem. Edit 2 : ok we have some god games aftermath thanks to the animatic. I still would've like them to address that a bit.

I'll separate this from the negative segment because it's just something funny, but Odysseus saying "rape" alone will definitely alter Epic's rating 😂. At least it doesn't gloss over saying it this time (I would've wished the Calypso incident was addressed in that case).

Ok ! I'm gonna listen to the Ithaca saga now. I'll watch the livestream after sleeping and THEN I'll come back to this post and add stuff.

[thereigning-lorelai]

I think you're working for McGinnis.

[awaywithself]

after a real argument, a true misunderstanding that lacked the theatrical yelling and the kicking and slashing that often characterized their play fights, zoro and sanji leave to simmer in solitude. it’s easy to forget their anger, easier to forgive each other- harder to forgive themselves.

they’re both self-sacrificing and so self-critical, they’re disappointed and angry at themselves for the things they said, the way they behaved, the love they felt but failed to show. zoro makes his own food, feeling bad about desecrating sanji’s space but knowing he’d feel worse to assume that he still deserved sanji’s cooking- his thoughtfulness and his time. sanji sleeps on a couch, in a corner far away from their bedroom where there was no comforter, no warmth, no zoro, no love. the chill takes him to a place in his life confined by stone walls, and the punishment soothes him.

but they notice. and it hurts.

sanji puts away the sorry, microwaveable meal zoro had prepared for himself and cooks something kind and hearty, making sure to include all of zoro’s favorites. he packs it into tupperware so the love doesn’t leak out too much, staying nice and warm until whenever zoro feels hungry. he leaves a note and places it on the counter, removing himself from the scene. ‘eat properly, my marimo.’ when zoro eventually stumbles upon it, he sits at the counter, brows furrowed and chest aching as he takes his time to savor each bite, hoping that he’ll take long enough that he’ll be there when sanji next visits the kitchen.

at night zoro finds sanji on the ratty couch, trembling slightly from the cold but nonetheless sleeping. he shifts him, not-so-subtly prodding him around to make room for himself. sanji is roused from slumber, feeling how the cushions dip under zoro’s weight as he settles next to him, how his muscled arms wrap tightly around him and tuck him close. zoro buries his face in his neck and his broad figure shields him from the chill, protecting him from the emptiness of the room- his makeshift prison. ‘let’s move to the bed, dartbrow,’ he mumbles, and sanji fights tears as he nods, hand shifting to clasp around zoro’s and squeezing.