#i should spend time with them i should eat with them i should never cost them anything and repay the debt as soon as i can

[anaalnathrakhs]

my parents aren't abusive in any way, but living with them is like... letting your kid cousin play with a prized collection, gritting your teeth and hoping for them to be done with it soon, knowing any second something could be broken, and anyway you'll have to put the whole thing back together right afterwards. and like the kid cousin, you gotta not necessarily keep an eye on them, but always be on call, thinking about WHAT the kid might be doing and WHERE they are, so you don't make them feel too unsuported or unheard

[helaintoloki]

Can I request something with Five Hargreeves where Five and Lilia gets back to their family after the 7 years (nothing romantic happened between them, just purely platonic), and when he sees the reader for the first time after almost loosing so much hope in seeing her again, he just can’t help but latch onto her and never let go, kissing her all over cause he finally gets to see the love of his life again :,D

a/n: ty for sending in this request anon i really enjoyed writing it <3 this is basically the “good ending” of the subway incident

warnings: fluff, mentions of five and lila but in a platonic way not the bad way

His lungs feel like they’re on fire as Five pushes himself to continue his sprint to your apartment. It’s been seven years without you, and after almost losing hope of ever seeing you again, all he wanted now was to have you in his arms as proof that he truly was back in his own timeline.

He never should have listened to Lila when she insisted on traveling the subway system in search of a solution to the Cleanse, but he had been desperate to find a way to keep you and his family safe no matter the cost. He didn’t mind having to eat subway rats and sleep in flimsily sleeping bags on dirty platforms for your sake, but with no end in sight the entire thing began to seem futile. What good was putting himself through torture if he could never go back home to you?

Thus, when he found the journal that detailed the way back home, Five did not hesitate to jump on the next subway car and return back to his own timeline. He didn’t feel sorry for practically shoving Lila out of the way as soon as the doors opened, and he didn’t waste a second waiting for her to follow before he was booking it out of the station and down the streets to your apartment. While it would have been faster to just jump there, he didn’t want to risk accidentally placing himself right back where he started, and he didn’t have the patience to wait for Lila to find a car and drop him off herself. Seeing you could not wait, and so he ran.

Though Five has experienced seven painful years of being stuck with Lila in the subway, only four hours have passed since you last spoke to him on the phone to discuss your evening plans. He was meant to be at your apartment thirty minutes ago so you could enjoy a lovely dinner at a nice restaurant, and yet here you were sitting painfully board at your kitchen island watching the minutes tick by. You knew he wasn’t exactly keen on eating out when he’d rather stay at home and spend quality time with you, but surely he wouldn’t stoop so low as to miss your date entirely.

“Screw this,” you huff in indigence as you snatch your keys from the counter and grab your previously discarded purse from its spot on the couch. “He’ll just have to meet me there.”

After putting on your coat, you fling the door open only to met with the sight of a breathless Five, his fist raised in the air as if he was about to knock before you beat him to it. He looks completely disheveled with his mussed up hair and wrinkled suit, his eyes blown wide as he swallows down a big gulp of air and takes in your features. You look more beautiful than he ever thought possible, and he can’t believe that he’s really here standing in front of you after being trapped in a time travel hellscape for seven years with his idiot brother’s idiot wife.

“Five?” You utter gently, brows furrowed in confusion and concern as you reach out to place a gentle hand upon his cheek. He’s warm to the touch, most likely a side effect from having sprinted for three blocks, but it worries you nonetheless. He nearly melts into your palm as his eyes flutter shut in contentment at the feel of your skin against his own. He’s missed this, and he’s missed you. “Where have you been, I was just about to leave without you. You okay?”

You jump at his sudden movement when Five practically throws himself into your arms. You lose your footing and tumble back into your apartment, and it takes you a moment to process what’s happening before you tightly return the embrace. You know Five loves you, but he’s never been so forward with affection like this, so his behavior takes you by surprise.

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been better,” he breathes out in relief as he takes in your warmth and your smell and your touch and everything good about you. He never thought he could miss anyone as much as he missed you, and Five swore in that moment he’d never take you for granted again.

“Are you sure you’re really my Five and not a total stranger?” You question teasingly, poking fun at his uncharacteristically tender behavior. While normally you would be met with a biting and sarcastic response in return, you are instead given a passionate kiss as he cups your face in his hands and desperately pulls you closer to him. Your startled gasp is swallowed by his lips as he deepens the kiss and pushes you further into the apartment before shutting the door with his foot.

“Five,” you manage to breathe out after he pulls away for air, your face hot and your mind frazzled as you struggle to comprehend the sequence of events that have just occurred. “Five, we’re going to be late.”

“I couldn’t care less,” he replies with a faint smile, reaching out to carefully tuck your hair behind your ear. “I missed you.”

“Missed me?” You repeat in confusion. “You saw me this morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll explain everything in time,” he assures you carefully, “but right now I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

With a faint smile gracing your lips, you know you can’t argue with that. You probably will miss your dinner reservations, but none of that matters as Five pulls you in close and showers you with seven years worth of pent-up affection.

You could really get used to this side of him.

[anqelically]

જ⁀➴ A RELATIONSHIP COME FORTH

SUMMARY. the moment sanemi found out about your relationship with giyuu did not go as either of you imagined

WARNINGS. 1.1k words, giyuu x shinazugawa!reader, platonic sanemi x older sister!reader, no specific genre just a bit silly

a diary entry of the “mono no aware” series !

it was no secret that sanemi did not like his fellow hashira, giyuu tomioka. so, the man’s reaction to finding giyuu kissing you, his dearest older sister, was anything but peaceful.

when you first got together with giyuu, you knew that at all costs, you should’ve avoided telling sanemi. not like you wouldn’t tell him eventually, but you needed him to let up and slowly get used to the noirette’s presence before telling him.

bit by bit, you invited over giyuu to your estate on the days sanemi came to visit. sometimes, the wind hashira would arrive when your lover was leaving, or leave when he was just walking up the path to the estate.

every 3 weeks, much to sanemi’s discontent, giyuu was also invited to eat dinner with the two of you. you’d take your seat in between the two so that your younger brother wouldn’t start a brawl. after all, he wouldn’t risk hurting you. but even after all of your efforts, sanemi’s views on giyuu remained the same, if not worse than how they began.

over 4 months had passed with no real progress made. though you had not made your relationship known to anyone but genya or kanae, you were sure some of the other demon slayers figured it out.

before you even got with giyuu, you made an effort to talk to him. even though he distanced himself from the rest of you, and most of the hashira didn’t make much of an effort to speak with him, you chose to give him a chance. after all, you’d be working together as demon slayers for however long. 

you were always the most friendly with him, occasionally standing by his side and spending time outside of the corps with him. as your relationship became something more, you only got closer, even in the public eye. you left lingering touches, and giyuu occasionally placed his hand on your back when appropriate. the affection in your eyes couldn’t be mistaken, if seen.

the one person who didn’t seem to get a clue was sanemi, the only one you wanted to notice. you hoped that if he saw the adoration between you and giyuu, then maybe he wouldn’t be so opposed. you expressed this to your partner, who hummed at your words.

“if you tell him first, he might notice.”

“yeah, but knowing sanemi, he might just get mad and stomp away every time he sees you instead of observing,” you groaned lightly in frustration.

giyuu looked to the side in thought, “maybe i should try talking to him alone.”

you immediately stopped his train of thought, “absolutely not. i’m sorry, my love, but that’s the worst option.”

while you began to think again, giyuu detected a figure approaching from the side. the breeze blew slightly, and knowing that it was one of the days sanemi would visit, giyuu took it upon himself to show sanemi the affection he had harbored for you.

giyuu surprised you when his left hand grabbed your arm and his right cupped your cheek. he leaned his head towards you and pressed your lips together. your eyes widened at his sudden action. 

sanemi, who was looking for you, stopped in his tracks. it was one thing for tomioka to be kissing you, but it was another to see your shock, as if the water pillar stole your lips and sealed them with his without consent.

the water hashira stepped away after a few seconds with a near-satisfied expression. that should do it, he thought. you brought a hand to your lips before turning to your guest, who was anything but pleased. a vein was close to bursting on sanemi’s forehead as he rushed to grab giyuu. that had sure done it, alright.

sanemi thought that you might’ve had feelings for the water pillar, but it never seemed like they were returned. so seeing your shock from giyuu’s kiss made him think one thing— he was taking advantage of you, wasn’t he?

“sanemi, wait-!”

“THE HELL YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!? HAAH!?”

the wind hashira was fuming. the arm that held giyuu’s haori had trembled in anger, while his other one was being held back by you. although you were the more skilled swordsman, sanemi had more physical strength than you.

“the fuck are you doing, kissing y/n like that? i’ll kill you right here,” sanemi seethed. “you’ve done it now, tomioka.”

“let him go,” you told your brother.

“i don’t care if you want to be his friend or like him or not. he just kissed you, damn it!” giyuu held sanemi’s wrist when the white-haired man pulled him closer, “what happened to consent, huh?”

“there was no need for consent.”

sanemi’s grip loosened slightly from the surprise of the blunt statement. did he just admit to taking advantage? you took the chance to pull his arm back and stand in front of giyuu protectively. the tips of your fingers pressed onto sanemi’s chest as you held your arm out, hoping to keep him back.

“y/n, get out of the way,” sanemi told you, fingers itching for a fight.

“let me explain-“

“if anyone should explain, it’s him.”

“giyuu and i…!” you swallowed, “ we’re seeing each other, okay? so please, don’t start to throw hands.”

oh you have got to be kidding. sanemi’s angry expression nearly turned dumbfounded at the news, and in the back of his head, tengen’s smug face appeared.

the sound hashira had told sanemi that there was definitely something going on between you and giyuu. being his stubborn self, sanemi refused to believe him. tengen’s mocking laugh echoed in his mind as his gaze flickered between you and giyuu. your other hand, nearly out of his view, loosely held the water hashira’s.

“for how long?” he asked with a strained voice.

“a bit over 4 months now… i was trying to hint at our relationship to you, but you never seemed to get a clue. why do you think giyuu always came by? even kanae doesn’t visit as much, and she’s my closest friend.”

‘i thought it was because you liked him, not that the two of you were actually dating’

he felt like a fool. sanemi let out a shaky exhale before he turned around, keeping his composure as if he wasn’t fuming minutes ago, “i’m leaving. see you thursday.”

and when he showed up to your estate that very day, sanemi didn’t mention a word, and neither did you. he merely looked giyuu in the eyes for a few moments before trudging past him, his way of saying he didn’t care for your relationship. after all, as long as giyuu treated you right and made you happy, part of him would be happy too.

this entry’s taisho secret— on the way back to his estate after finding out about your relationship, sanemi thought about you and giyuu getting married one day. apparently, the thought of being giyuu’s in-law for the rest of his life made him irritated

signed on 07/10/2024 | other diary entries

• have any questions? feel free to write a letter to my inbox !

@aureatchi @piichuu @queenof3ferrets @todorokies @staygoldsquatchling02 @luffy0s @egoistars @soleelia @ravencrow1995 @koraarchives

[honestsycrets]

Stung | [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | after a discus malfunction, you're bitten by an anomaly and refuse medical attention. you're in a state that you refuse to show to miguel-- at all costs.

❛ tags | NSFW, sex pollen, mention of a wound, slight chase, miguel o'hara doesn't like to be ignored, cum eating, creampies, abnormal amount of fluid, venom bite, slapping, some insecurity, spanish is not translated, sexual memories.

❛ sy’s notes | my obligatory ABO-sex pollen fic for ATSV. i usually make a ABO/Sex Pollen piece per fandom I write in, so here's one for Miggy 🐝

“All done!”

You slipped out of HQ’s packed infirmary with a jaunty bounce in your step. Crispy, coppery blood was matted onto your forearm concealed behind a hastily tied bandage. You weren't concerned about it. It would resolve within the hour. Likely less. As would your elevated body temperature. Despite the doctor's prattle about the benefit of further testing, you found their concern to be a non-issue. These things were virtual non-issues, even if the doctor and your man thought otherwise. 

The hallways at HQ were like any other day in your city. Congested with the coming and going of spiders in their daily lives. A glimpse at any group might reveal decadent flirting and haughty laughter. Some were in a rush to their own worlds, but most were completing work assigned by the Spider Society. The one you were looking for reclined against a wall with his arms interlocked one over the other. His displeased rumble prompted you to his presence above all other voices in the crowd. 

“You should have let them run the tests.” His voice was teased with concern but became mild, little more than a drab sigh at your refusal. You blew off his concern with a shake of your hand, gone yellow and bubbly behind a bit of ineffectual gauze. His eye glazed over the wound. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind his mask, but you didn't need to. You only needed to convince him you were right.

“It’s stopped bleeding, Miggy. It’s just a scratch,” You held up your arm, flicking it with emphasis. His eyebrows raised for a moment, then flattened, staring at you with a dull rictus. “It was just a brief malfunction of the discus.” 

Technically it was more of an impalement, but if Miguel wasn’t going to ask, you weren’t going to invite him to delve deeper. Otherwise, you might spend the next few hours of your life fixing a wound that surely would have closed up by the time results were back. The injury site mildly itched. That was all. Never mind, the slight, honey-colored rash migrating from the puncture site to your elbow. Or the referred pain. Minor things. 

“You’re being stubborn.” 

“You’re the one to talk.” You snapped the discus free from your sash and chucked it toward Miguel.  He caught it with an unsurprising amount of ease, claws clicking in unison against the ineffectual metal.

“¡Qué problema!” he mocked, his voice dry and absent of discernible emotion. 

You closed the distance between your bodies to slide your arms around his broad neck. His other hand came to your lower back. It was warm, the way he touched you, from the bundles of affection that fluttered in your belly to the heat dappling across your chest. You missed this every day. It made fleeing the infirmary all the more worth it.

“I put the anomaly in another discus. One that actually works, no thanks to your programming.”

“That’s what happens when you take things without asking.” He flicked the discus between his thumb and index finger, waggling it for emphasis. It was true that there had been nights that went with banging, clacks, clatters, and the occasional outburst when things weren’t quite going his way. There were a few discuses on his desk. You just so happened to take the one that malfunctioned. “I was working on it. ¿Qué era?” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Just some stingy bees. What harm could they do?” 

His eyes roamed your wound. You couldn't help but look down too, both horrified and fascinated by the way the rash had moved in just a brief few minutes. The colour had begun to fade. You glanced up, flattening your mouth into a slight, forced smile.

“Fine. If you're sure.”

To be fair, you secured many anomalies with and without the help of others. They all went into their cozy, temporary forcefield homes until they could be fairly redirected to their appropriate dimensions. In the downtime, you could help or hinder Miguel's progress. Then, your watch would alert you to another disturbance and the cycle would continue. 

Until that morning. 

Your watch blared, and blared, and blared some more. The early morning sun began to rise and cast offensive beams of light into your room. Usually, it didn’t bother you. But this morning, everything offended you from the scratch of silky sheets on your naked body to Lyla illuminating what darkness was left, all golden and cute. You wondered if that was how Miguel felt when you forgot to pull the curtains, strung out on the bed after he finished with you.

“Woah! Oops!” she turned, covering her eyes with her spindly fingers. A growing ache throbbed between your legs. It wasn’t quite the same dull soreness from Miguel’s late-night visit last night, either. “Sorry, sorry. Miguel--”

“He can handle it,” you bit out, snappier than you intended. It wasn't like you. “Or-- Jess. No, Gwen. Gwen can do it, she loves--” 

“He asked for you.” 

Of course, he did. You scrunched a pillow over your head. Your Miguel couldn’t see you this. Absolutely not. You debated getting up, ignoring what you called a negligible ache that was quickly morphing into a terrible pounding. You can't believe how quickly the thought fell apart, pushing yourself to sit up in bed. The ghost of his scent floods your nose, flashing memories of the night before.

Something at work set him off. Something that commanded no intimacy, but the mechanical release of his rage that wouldn't destroy precious resources. He sat on the edge of the bed, driving your mouth onto his cock with the aid of your hair bundled around his fist. You recalled the shakiness of his thighs under your fingers, his firm legs spread wide fucking your mouth with cold abandon. He chased his own orgasm selfishly, needing the release, needing to see your body painted by whips of his cum sprayed across your exposed breasts. He pulled you off in silence, inspecting the drool and cum that spilled down your chin and throat in rivulets. "What--"

Your face tightened, glancing down at the growing tension in your belly. Everything began to annoy you, especially the scratch of the sheets against your skin, your bed empty of his presence. How could you tolerate that uniform plastered to your ass? You buried into the offensive bed. This was fine. This was normal, recalling what you'd done last night. Surely, the burn had to do with the whole being launched through not one, but two crumbling buildings the day before. The dust and rubble. Were you close to your cycle?

“Tell him I’m dead,” and without another word, you resolved the call. Within seconds she popped up again, bent at the waist because this was your life now. Never could you just… take a day off. There was always something. You muffled your screams of protest into the mattress and dug your feet in, kicking off the sheets, the blankets, the pillows, all of it.

“Is this a fit? You’ve never had a fit before,” Lyla noticed. A fit? She thought the burning of your body was a fit? Damn AI. Resolve. 

Resolve. Resolve. Resolve.

It became cathartic after a good while. Or it would have been if not for your senses hyper-fixating on every minor change in your body.  Despite your apprehension, you knew. What was once a dull pain radiating from your forearm morphed into something much worse. Something you couldn’t blame on the rather average experience of being pelted through the average event of windows and concrete. It was more than a tingle. It burned as it coursed through your body. 

You stumbled over the bundle of bedding into the bathroom. It was there that you realized that to your horror, you weren’t just lubricated, now you were soaked. Your fluids coursed down your thighs as you dabbed the region clean with a bundle of tissues. It did little good. Touching the area exasperated the issue. Maybe you needed an orgasm, maybe ten. An hour or so later, you slammed the heel of your palm into the mirror, fracturing it into shards of terrible glass that crumbled onto the countertop. Beads of blood dabbled onto your reflection. 

“If you d--” resolve.

So not a reaction to your average bee sting. Correction. A great, big, fat colony of hissing, buzzing bees. The act of recalling information was like jamming your hand into fluid water to snatch a tiny hair tie. No matter how many times you tried to recall the information, you couldn’t quite grasp it. It was there, floating around your head, but inaccessible. Your mind traveled back to Miguel. How gentle his lips could be, trailing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder when you rode him in reverse. How deep he'd go. 

"Fuck off!" Your watch blared again. Its beeping filled your bathroom, echoing over and over. You reached behind the door to pluck a silky white slip from its hook and dragged it over your head. You were about to resolve the call again when the hot timbre in his warm voice saying your name gave you pause. Your Miguel, popping up in a golden haze. You found yourself gazing at his full lips, full and plump. If only he was here. He could have his lips on your--

“What are you doing?” 

Lost in thought, you failed to realize that Miguel had been calling you by name again. You shook your hazy mind free of the thoughts that formed a swirling cloud over your head. You slumped down the wall and onto the floor.

Help was what you failed to say. As your mouth opened, nothing came out. The words were not wording. The vulnerability of asking for help was palpable. You soothed yourself by shifting your hands underneath your skirt. What would he think if he saw you here-- ripped asunder by your own biology? Whore. Miguel lowered his gaze, his eyes squinting at the sweat dabbling down your neckline as he looked you over. He wouldn't want you anymore.

“Are you listening? ¡Coño! What is wrong with you!?” 

Resolve.

You resolved him. Your Miggy-- resolved. Oh, you swallowed dryly. He wasn’t going to be happy about that. It wasn’t a matter of if Miguel would come for you. It was a matter of when. When he had time to separate himself from trashing-- whatever was the closest object to him in the lab-- to take out his rage on you. You reached for your medicine cabinet. You had more important things to worry about. First on the list? The searing heat.

Your watch was better off tucked away in a chest in the closet.

Night came with no solutions. You crouched on your window sill, chest rising and falling. You sought to stare at anything but the mindless buzz of the tv screen inside. Even with light pollution, some stars winked in the distance. Your body was a bundle of warm heat, buzzing with irritation after a fruitless day of soothing your body. You grew accustomed to your pert nipples against your silky slip, the lubricant coursing down your leg. At first, denial. Now, acceptance. You thought tomorrow might be better.

You felt his presence before you heard, smelled, or saw him. Through the sea of scorched sensations battering your senses, there was one that stood apart. A tickle that niggled at the back of your head. It could have been anyone, but you didn’t have to guess to know who it was. “Lyla." 

“You haven’t called him all day,” Lyla squeaked. 

“Called all-- I answered his call!” Your dress was matted to your body, cloaked in an abhorrent amount of sweat. It was only minutes ago that you retrieved your watch confident that you could bullshit something, anything, for a few days of reprieve. You jammed your shaking finger to resolve the call. 

“Not all of them. Miguel was worried.” 

“Worried! Lyla, that is not worried,” you spat. That was your Miguel, scaling the side of your apartment. His talons cracking the siding of your apartment. The reverberations spiraled up your legs, sending waves of anticipation lapping at your core. After your long day, you weren't sure how you were still somehow upright. With every crack of his talon into the brick siding, you were running out of time to come up with an excuse.

In a bid to escape, you fell into your room. The hard floor knocked the breath out of your dry lips. You stumbled onto your feet and supported yourself with a bookcase of less than half-read books. “Lyla, he can’t see me like this!” 

“Then tell me what’s going on,” she popped back up. “C’mon, you can tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

If her tone was playful in some half-baked attempt to neutralize your fight, the threat was imminent. Your hand connected with the top of the window, applying pressure to close the window. A hair too late. At the same time, Miguel’s clawed hand curled around the bottom of the window sash. You were too slow for the man who excelled with power, speed, and efficiency. You weren't going to win this fight. Not with your body threatening to crack at the very sight of your man's strength.

Though you saw him nearly daily, he always took your breath away. His sinewy body was always a sight, his suit accentuated his thick and fine cut. You moistened your lips, longing to run your fingers through his thick dark brown hair as you did every night. You caught his sharp gaze a second longer than you should have.

 “Open up,” he whispered coolly.

He was a distraction. The wind was not on your side either, blowing wisps of his scent into your overwrought senses. His natural musk mixed with the sweat of a hard day's work. Somewhere in there, bitter blood. You could smell the caramelized scent of the flaky, buttery empanadas and hot coffee you shared the day before. It gave you pause, his intoxicating smell and the sultry trill of his voice. But you couldn’t let him see you, not like this.

“Oop, there he is. Just checking on you,” Lyla chittered. Resolve.

“Miggy, please go away,” you sobbed in frustration, shifting to shoulder the window. “Why are you so stubborn!?” 

“It’s who I am.” 

The window cracked all at once. With mere milliseconds to respond to the sash careening into the upper rail, you whirled past the bedroom door. Miguel broke into a run behind you with long strokes of his legs. He made contact, sending you barreling into your lazy sapphire couch from the impact. You saw stars for a fraction of a second before you lurched on your palms and elbows, scrambling off of the couch and across the floor. His hand caught your ankle and dragged you underneath his body.

“¡Ay!” you bit out. “No, no no no. Miggy!” 

“¡Callate!” 

His hand wrapped tightly around your throat to force complacency, pinning you back to the hardwood floor. Your palms slammed onto his chest, drawing lines down his chest. Bits of pathetic electricity fizzled on his broad, muscular chest, a consequence of your fading focus. That focus was eviscerated when Miguel threw his hips flat against your core. Your frantic fidgeting against Miguel soothed some of the terrible, buzzing pressure rattling between your legs like warm honey on a sore wound. The ache for his relief became more important than the impulse for substantial breaths.

“Don’t move. Why are you--”

“I can’t help it,” you cut him off, straining against his large palm to stare at his crotch. His gaze fell on yours, following the path to his soft cock. His eyes widened with the sudden attention. Tears threatened to spill over from your eyes, pricked with spikes of pain. "It's too much!"

You ate your shame with his body crouched between your legs and his large palm choking the air out of your throat. The influx of air not only brought your scent, but your day-long desperation to fix what you believed was wrong. He could smell it now. He could see it now. He could hear it in your voice. He knew why you failed to answer his calls. The violent jabbing of the resolve button. Throwing your watch into your cramped closet to ignore the calls. The pheromones that soaked your apartment. It was unavoidable.

“You can’t help it,” he repeated. Miguel considered you with razor-sharp eyes, nearly as sharp as the talons that rescinded into his arms. 

"I'll see about that." His hand left your neck to reveal bundles of bumpy shivers that soared across your skin. He raised his finger to wipe away the wet tears that fell from your flushed cheeks. Then dropping lower, Miguel chased the thin straps of your gown with his claw and slid the offending fabric off of your breast. The nub was as hard as it had been hours ago when you twerked the nipple between your fingertips and dreamed of Miguel.

“You’re...” he cupped your breast in your palm and massaged your nipple with one sharp twist of his thumb. The gasp that left your lips wasn’t one you were proud of. Your undulating hips that ground down on his cock weren’t entirely unwarranted. You needed it. "Hot. As if you're in heat."

This couldn’t be happening. From a ball of rage to one of arousal, he released a tiny amused chuckle. You spent much of the day in different parts of the apartment with your hand, toy, ice, and water into your body to soothe this terrible ache. So Miguel wouldn't see you like this. It was this moment you sought to avoid after your long day: The moment of Miguel's disapproval. Now he laughed at you.

“Happy?” you sobbed into the forearm that kept Miguel stable. “Go away, someone else could use your stupid help.”

“Don’t you need me?” Miguel dipped his head down. Strands of his dark hair tickled your hypersensitive skin. With the lightweight fabric of his suit, pressing your cunt back against his clothed bulge felt wonderful. You bit your lower lip and watched his cock jut against its fabric. You lifted your puffy eyes to his gaze and found a wicked gleam there. He knew it wasn’t enough contact for the pressure and painful spasms to abate. Deep down, you knew that Miguel was your only hope for relief. Who else could, or would, you call in this condition? Mostly because Miguel always fixed everything.

"Miggy," you murmured. After this pitiful display, he wasn't rejecting you? Your mind flowed weightless and light. The terror of your day faded under his careful caress. In its place, comfort that he would take care of you.

“Don’t you?” His hand snaked between your folds and found it soaked wet, the low throbbing of your pussy palpable. He retracted his fingers and spread the sticky fluid between his thumb and middle finger. At some point, silence became better than an answer. Miguel brought his hand down on your cunt for a sharp slap. Bundles of nerves cried out under the abuse. It shook free a squeal from your lips, bitten raw by the pressure of the day. Your head bobbed into a mechanical nod as to save yourself from another slap.

“You know how to ask. It’s si Miguel, por favor Miguel.”

You needed the warm sensation of his cum. But making those words proved too difficult. Your canines pierced bloody holes in your lower lip. You clawed up his forearms, trying to leverage and force him closer. Miguel grabbed your shoulders and thrashed them back down onto the floor. You felt bad for the downstairs neighbors. 

“Say it.” 

“Miggy,” you looked into his eyes. They were blown wide, nearly fully black with a thin outline of scarlet, chasing the outline of your exposed breast. For all his talk, you realized he wasn't immune. Even with his face tight, his eyes focused on the same thing you needed. Maybe, all this time, you were baiting Miguel with half-assed answers. They were invitations. Invitations to come to fill this need you had. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t what you wanted this whole time. Finally, you had him where you wanted him. 

Miguel broke eye contact first. He cupped his plush lips around your nipple, suckling the breast taut and wet. You cried out in surprise and arched into Miguel’s mouth, enticed by the fangs that grazed your nipple. As quickly as he came, he was gone.

You lurched up, palming Miguel's dick through his pants. His hips bucked into your palm. He refused to make any sound as he considered your next movements, releasing Miguel’s cock from his suit. Impatience and need coalesced into your brave movements, sliding your palm against him. He was impossibly thick and hard, dribbling at the tip. Miguel huffed a small noise as your palm ran over him. You dared to call it a moan.

Miguel sneered and shoved you back onto the floorboards. “I’ll only tell you one more time. Ask me properly.” 

"You do too, don't you?" You giggled. A noise that grated his ear. With the belief you wouldn’t bolt, Miguel shifted back onto his knees. You wouldn’t. There was nowhere left to run. Not that you even wanted to, fat and hungry off Miguel's growing desperation.

"Come here." He snaked his hands underneath your knees, dragged you close, and pushed them to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut. Moments later, the sensation of his thick dick sliding against your engorged folds forced them back open. It gave you just enough relief through the pulsing pain to look at him with your hazy eyes. From this angle, you appreciated how large Miguel had gotten. His round cock-head bobbed and crested over your mound as it rubbed against your aching clit. His face was trained, focused. He wasn't going to relent first.

The nagging pressure never abated. You sought something more, something better, the sensation of being filled. With every glide, you squeezed your walls in protest to his absence. Your hips protested the restriction of your movement, shimmying against the firm hold he had that kept you in place. You wanted more than that. You wanted true relief from his teasing. Miguel drew back to inspect the fluid over his fat shaft as held you down. You gave in, whining at him like a brat.

“Por,” you scratched his forearms. “Por favor, Miggy. You don’t know what it's like.” 

“All fours-- face down.” 

The cacophony of desire battered and overcame any other human emotion you could have. You complied, crawling onto your fuzzy indigo rug for what came next. Miguel’s gloved hand skimmed across your ass, middle finger skimming toward the center. He followed up his gentle touch by reeling back his hand and cracking it across your ass, searing the nerves alive. Once, twice, and then a third. Tears pricked your cheeks again, a consequence of your nerves being overwrought and now assailed.

“Miggy!” 

He shushed you with fervor, another thwack beating the jiggling flesh hot and red. Your legs trembled under the weight of his slaps. “Ignore my calls again and you’ll get much worse.”

“I didn’t-- you wouldn't want me,” your lips parted in defense of what you’d done. Miguel dipped down to spread your folds, rolling his index finger along your pulsing walls. Your body drew him in, squeezing and urging him forward. Your swollen walls were impossibly tight, straining to bring him in more and more.

"You know I do."

The need for more devoured any other thought, any threats of what he’d do next time. You rolled your hips to ride his hand. In place of a slap, Miguel slid another finger slid in beside the first to stretch your walls open. He faltered at your next words and slid his fingers free.

“Not like… not like I need you.” 

“Who decides that?” he pressed on your upper back to force it down. You complied. Miguel stumbled forward, finally pressing his thick head to your pulsing entrance. His round head pressed, just barely, into your wet hole. You clenched down, inviting him into your warmth. You weren’t sure he’d actually give it to you. It was so damn close.

“You do, Miggy,” you murmured, pushing back. He watched as his shaft slowly disappeared into your body, your apprehension of retaliation rendered you too slow to finish.

Miguel snatched your waist and forced you to take the rest, a soppy squelch lubricating his shaft. The sound that slipped from your lips was entirely uncouth, punctuated by his unforgiving thrusts. Your walls strained around his cock. No matter how many times you took him, the drag of his cock and slap of balls against your body always felt somehow like the first. It filled that ache-- the consistent burning need to have him here, inside of your greedy body, scratching something that you could not itch all day. It’s what you wanted. 

“That’s right, I do.” Miguel rumbled, short, punctuated thrusts beating your clenching cunt into complacency. The pleasure ruptured through your cunt-- battering his dick in response. He let loose a sharp grunt followed by a string of curses. Your sweet release spilled over his dick and balls, dripping down your thighs. Your legs threatened to shook, but Miguel was unwilling to allow your trembling legs to give out.

"Ah! Miggy!" His fangs punctured your shoulder to force you to stay in position, his pelvis stuttering against yours. His growl punctuated the warm, soothing cum that soothed your walls like warm honey over a wound. Your walls milked him free of his cum, spasming in response to his orgasm. He pieced himself together against your back, pulling his fangs free and settling a soft kiss over the burning wound on your shoulder. As if he hadn't been the one to tear his fangs into the crook of your neck.

“You’re not letting go,” he hummed in annoyance. He turned his attention down to your ass, ghosting his fingers over the healing bruises over your backside. You squealed, jerking forward. He followed you forward, punching a hole in the floor by your side. “Fuck, don’t move!” 

You cast your attention back toward Miguel. He huffed forcefully out of his nostrils. He motioned toward your ass as if it were obvious-- your walls were clamped over his cock, unwilling or otherwise unable to let him go, as if he had any more cum to give in that current moment. You took it all.

“I. I didn't-- I can’t--” 

“Yeah, I know. That Bee venom does that. Mine should neutralize it.”

At some point, you murmured. It sure as hell wasn’t doing it now, keeping him seated into your cunt that bubbled with the mixture of his and your release. “You knew about it? I could have died!” 

Miguel chuckled. 

“You wouldn’t. You’re too stubborn to die,” he sighed, fiddling with his watch. The tests-- that you never had ran. Ones that he suggested. Ones that you refused quite openly. “Why would I deny myself the fun?” 

His cock slipped free. Your hips dropped and fell slack against the floor. You weren’t proud of the cum that oozed out of your ass over your decimated room, nor the fact that your useless neighbors hadn’t called for help once. Not that you needed it-- but still. You palpated your stomach, slightly distended. Miguel bent down and gathered the mixture of your bodily fluids on his fingers, suckling his own fingers dry. You watched his wet tongue swirl around his fingertips. It wasn't fair.

“Fun? What fun!? Do you know how long I-- You’re a mean man, Miguel O’Hara.” 

He lurched over, his breath tickling your lips. He kissed you, salty and sweet. Your nose scrunched up, pouting against his lips. He left the room for the kitchen, fetching a wet cloth to clean his body with. He zipped himself back into his suit shortly after and dropped the sodden cloth by the cum puddling under your ass.

“Never said I wasn’t.” 

[bellaxgiornata]

SAHD!Frank Castle Headcanons

I picture Frank being an amazing, hands-on father if he ever managed to fall back into that role again and I just think he'd make such a wonderful stay-at-home-dad. I couldn't resist sharing some of my SAHD!Frank headcanons so they're below the cut! And I'm also just going to make him a girl dad here because he absolutely is in my mind.

I could also certainly be persuaded to share some girl dad!Frank Castle headcanons...

With the ridiculous cost of daycare, you and Frank would eventually come to the conclusion that it was just more cost effective to have one of you stay home with the girls. And while you might be tempted to do it yourself, you'd also know how much Frank would cherish being present for every moment with his kids. He'd never want to miss a single thing after the tragic loss he'd experienced, and you'd have already seen his steadfast devotion during your pregnancy. While he would argue that you should be the one to stay home with them, eventually you would win out.

On weekdays, Frank would be awake early every morning--possibly even before your alarm went off. He'd always have a mug of hot coffee or tea made for you whenever you finally stepped foot into the kitchen. And when you did, you'd find him preparing breakfast for the girls. He'd always make you up a plate of whatever he cooked, insisting you eat something before you were out the door for work ("You gotta eat, baby. Just a few bites, c'mon."). And Wednesdays would forever be known as pancake day in your house.

Frank would never run out of activities to do with the kids, even if you found some of them to be very 'Frank.' He'd have them help him build things (a new bookshelf, a baby crib, a birdhouse, etc), and he'd teach them what tools to use while he's at it. He'd have them assist him with changing the oil in the car, fixing a leaky sink, or preparing vegetables in the kitchen for dinner (with child-safe knives that he always complained to you later about how "they can't cut for shit."). When playfully teased about the things he teaches them, he'd tell you he wanted your girls to learn "the real shit they won't get from school."

Every Friday is Library Day in the Castle house. Frank would take the girls to the library in the morning for story time where he would sit back and watch with a big grin on his face as his girls sat "criss-cross applesauce" among all the other kids and listened to the books with rapt attention. Aftwerwards, he'd let them pick out new books for bedtime for the upcoming week. Then he would always make the morning extra special by taking the girls out for brunch.

He loves nothing more than to free up more time for all of you to spend together as a family on the weekend, so he would be the dad running errands during the weekdays with a toddler holding each of his hands (or a baby strapped to his chest in a carrier). He'd be out grabbing groceries, hitting up the hardware/home improvement store so he could work on projects around the house, or he'd be taking the kids to their doctor/dentist appointments so you wouldn't have to think about it later.

Frank would be the cool dad at all the parks, the one not afraid to play with his kids and push them on the swings. He'd be making small talk with the other moms and setting up play dates for his girls. He'd also be the one all the other kids flocked to on the playground whenever he was there because he was known to easily be persuaded into playing hide and seek or tag.

A few times throughout the month, Frank would stop by your work just before your lunch break to drop off food with the girls as an excuse to see you ("Had to come see my favorite girl. Wanted to make sure you're not workin' too hard."). You always loved it even more on the random occasions that your lunch came with a bouquet of flowers--either store bought or freshly picked on a walk by him and your girls.

If Frank knew you had a big presentation coming up or that you were just having a rough week/day, you could always count on coming home to something he made with the girls--pictures they colored or crafts they made--to cheer you up ("S'posed to be a butterfly ring or something. Shit, I don't know. Girls wanted to do somethin' with pipe cleaners. Blame YouTube.")

At the end of a long work day, you'd come home to see that dinner was almost finished cooking most nights. You'd either find Frank out back with a beer in one hand grilling while the girls were playing in the yard, or he would be in the kitchen surrounded by high-pitched laughter.

And when you came home from a long day of work, you could always count on Frank greeting you with the biggest smile. He'd wrap you up in his big arms and give you the sweetest kiss, even if he had to pause cooking dinner ("Missed you today, sweetheart. Hope you're hungry."). It would be the thing you looked forward to most at the end of every day, especially on particularly difficult days.

[riediaries]

satoru knows every part of you. every things you like and hate. he's able to locate each and every mole you have on your body and how many it is. it's like knowing you have been a second nature to him. in order words, he knows your whole nature and that's how you fell in love with him.

he knows you don't like eating a watermelon with seeds on it. you don't want to spit it out after or let alone eat it.

satoru silently observes you as you payed all of your attention to the sliced watermelon on your hands. picking every black seeds you see in the fruit.

you were getting irritated and he sighs, picking a sliced watermelon on the table and removed all the seeds in mere seconds.

"here, eat this. i already removed all of the seeds." he hands you a sliced watermelon. the red juicy part was clean. no seeds. just like how you like it.

"ah.. thanks.." you murmur, accepting the fruit and that was first time you felt a fluttering emotion on your tummy as you stare at the watermelon he handed you.

"mhm.." he hums. "you don't like it with the seeds on it, right?" he asks and you nodded. he hums again, nodding his head in a subtle way.

no seeds on her sliced watermelon, got it.

you like the beach, especially the sunset. he remembers peeking on your phone one time and due to his curiosity, he opened your photo gallery and you have a folder named 'sunsets<3'.

it has a lot of your pictures in the beach, capturing the breathtaking sunset and there are also pictures with just the sun but he likes the pictures with you in it. you're prettier than the sunset, anyways.

"we should go here sometime. the four of us." he tells suguru as they walk on the sand barefooted.

they just finished their mission and their flight will be tomorrow morning so they're spending their time to relax.

satoru keeps his eye on the setting sun. pink and purples hues were seen on the sky.

picture.. yes. i should take a picture for her. he thoughts and brought out his phone to take a picture. he sends the picture to you.

annoying blue-eyed freak: sent a photo.

annoying blue-eyed freak: sunset's pretty here today. you might like it.

you take a look at the photo he sent and the photo's automatically saved on your folder 'picture he sends'.

sunset lover princess: thanks, love it.

he smiles over the three letter word you sent. yep, his day's now complete with just your reply.

unknowingly to him, suguru secretly took a photo of him and he captured the most breathtaking satoru gojo photo to exist.

it's a photo of him on his side, smiling on his phone and the background is the sunset.

cool bangs: sent a photo.

your phone dings. you thought it's another photo of sunset from satoru but no. it's satoru with the sunset but he's not looking at the camera.

you stare at it for good few minutes.

cool bangs: if you're just going to stare at it, you might as well save it. i might delete it.

that message from suguru alone had your fingers saving his photo and put it on another album. a secret album named 'photos i love'.

yes, definitely 'love'.

satoru also knows that you love movie nights with them. horror, romance, or action. name all the genres present. you once told him that it's not about the movie you're excited but being able to spend time with your friends.

being a jujutsu sorcerer at a young age costs your freedom as a child and to dream. you will never know when you will die or vanish from this world. that's why you're spending all of their freedom time with you and they're actually okay with it.

same feelings, as they said.

"ahh! suguru! tell me when the haunted dolls are gone!" satoru clings to suguru as he scream out of his lungs.

"no, you watch it satoru. be a big brave man." he teases the young boy more. "i heard she likes men who's brave and can watch horror movies with her." he whispers to his best friend.

satoru eyes his best friend with a look of suspicious. "are you... sure?"

"her biggest turn off is actually a scared cat like men." he hums, adding more false informations about your type. "meaning, a boy like you, satoru." he dramatically covered his forehead and his eyes to express his disappointment for his best friend.

suguru knows that even when his best friend is screaming like a lady, you'll still like him. even though he can't bear to watch a single horror movie, you'll still like him because he's satoru. the annoying blue-eyed freak that constantly running on your mind twenty-four seven.

the two best friends eyes the two of you. shoko and you, unimpressed on their nonstop bickering and satoru's screams and unbothered on the horror scene in front of you.

wow. just wow. what a scene.

ever since then, you always invite them to watch a newly released movie, mostly horrors but in rare cases, you want to watch romance.

"oh sweet. they're kissing like it's the end of the world." satoru commented as he pushes a mouthful of popcorn on his mouth.

shoko and suguru went out for a smoke since romance is not really their thing but they still agreed to watch just to see you happy. and they couldn't refuse when you were that cute begging them to watch it with them.

"because that's how they are desperate to be with each other." you reply. "i mean, you'll surely kiss a person like that when the world's trying to separate you. you will pour all of your emotions in that kiss to express your feelings." you further explains.

he raises an eyebrow at you. "i thought you're only interested in horror. why are you so knowledgeable about love?"

"books..?"

"yeah? and?"

"what do you mean by that?"

"have you ever kissed a person like that before?" his question caught you off guard and you turns to him.

"what? no! it's not like that! do i need to have an experience to explain those?" you defend yourself. you haven't been kissed yet!

"want me to give you an experience, then?"

you were caught you off guard and you didn't have time to react when he leans to you, kissing the side of your lips. too close to be called a kiss. too close to end your 'no first kiss' phase.

"i like you." he mutters as he looks at you straight in the eye. you're still close to each other and you can feel his breathe on your skin. "more than any of my favorite sweets." he adds, making you laugh.

"i like you, too. more than any favorite sunset i had captured and saw." you confess.

he smiles but his face immediately turns into a sour face. "even though i can barely watch a horror movie?" he asks cutely and you burst into laugh.

"w-who.." you can't stop yourself from laughing. "who said that?"

"suguru." he mentions his best friend. so, the dark haired male is the suspect on spreading false claims.

"I like someone who removes all of the seeds on my sliced watermelon." he smiles at that sentence.

"i like someone who will immediately thought of me whenever he sees sunset and sends me a picture of it." he smiles even more as he closes the gap between you slowly.

"yeah? and? you like someone who's very handsome, too, right?" he grins. "you like a certain someone whose contact name is 'annoying blue-eyed freak', right?"

it made you chuckle. how did he even know that one? you always made sure to lock your phone and keep the password to yourself only.

"i like someone who can't watch a horror movie with me and full of screams–"

he shuts you up by putting his lips onto yours and then pulls away.

your 'no first kiss' phase have officially signed off.

satoru clearly knows that you love movie nights, especially horror movies with him screaming but satoru knows that you love him even more than your collection of horror movies and the sunset you have ever captured and saw in your whole life.

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 7

Contents: relationship, establishing feelings, slow burn, office kisses.

Warning: Things get a little ... spicier from here on out. Content warnings will be given for the relevant chapters.

You lingered with him in the little alcove, listening to the rhythm of his breath in the grooves of your ear. You lingered on the stairs leading back to the car. You traced the elusive outline of his fingers with yours, again and again, committing them to memory. There were no words passed between the two of you, from the moment he'd kissed you outside the restaurant, until you parted ways outside your apartment. There was no need for words. Neither of you wanted to break the spell that this evening had cast upon you.

When he finally said goodbye, the hoarseness of his voice, the softness of it, was enough to tell you how much he wanted, how much leaving you there was costing him. It was the same in your mind, of course. Discipline, control over desires, the measuring of love in increments until some vital point was reached, what was the need for it all?

You'd happily open your front door to him, lead him into a place you'd make sure he'd never want to leave. And yet, there was still something holding you back. It must be the same for him. Something that had been slinging you both in natural trajectories, the orbit of celestial bodies that slowly swayed each other's tides until the season came for you to be closer than ever.

You could be patient for this. You could watch this sweet, gentle unfolding between the two of you, as patiently as a predator in ambush. If nature was to take its course, then it was well worth the wait.

The way Kento walked you to your door without touching you, but then snatched up your fingers and pressed them to his lips, told you how much he valued your time together. It wasn't so much that he had kissed your fingers, it was more like he was committing the feel of them to his lips, as if he'd drink from the sensation on every night he'd spend without you.

Until the night it wouldn't be necessary any longer.

He began to make an effort, of course, to bind your lives more fully together. The things that were important to him were things he wanted to share with you. Sometimes, those moments of sharing were performed unconsciously on his part, in ways that made you want to take his face between your palms and plant soft kisses on his eyelids.

On one fateful afternoon, he'd purchased some specialty mochi from a store near where he'd been posted for duty. He knew how much you loved them freshly made, with red bean filling.

You hadn't seen him for almost a week at this point, messaging him regularly to check up on his safety and whether he was eating and sleeping on time. He always replied promptly, unless deeply occupied with something.

When he strode into your office that evening, the small parcel in one hand, tie slightly askew, you knew he'd rushed to catch the last train to be here. Jujutsu Tech vehicles were not always on call at this time. You stood and beamed at him, watching his shoulders relax and the tension that hung about his face disappear.

At work, you both were very careful to keep gestures of affection to a minimum. Not that you were concealing what was growing between you. It was simply a matter of not wanting anyone else to intrude on the moments between you that were truly special. Nanami couldn't help himself, though.

Drawn across the room, as if in each other's magnetic pull, you both met halfway, his hands coming up to enclose your own. You gently extricated one of them and brushed it lightly over his forehead, smoothing out some of the lines there.

"What's this in the bag?"

"Mochi. The kind you like."

"You should have gone home and rested. The mochi could wait."

The soft smile you were giving him took the edge off your strict words.

"Hmm. But it was fresh. I saw them stocking the shelves."

"Come, sit. I'll make you some tea."

He sank onto the couch set to one side of the room with a sigh, loosening his tie. Unable to help yourself, now that he was in your presence, you traced the line of his jaw delicately on your way to the kettle. Kento leaned slightly into your touch. He didn't have to tell you how much he'd missed you.

The kettle was soon boiling merrily while you prepared the cups and saucers. You kept many different tea blends in your office, and you knew, by now, which ones he preferred. You could feel his gaze tracing down, over your shoulders and back, down to your hips and then to your fingers on the smooth porcelain.

He insisted that the mochi was for you, and that he wouldn't eat any of it. Kento could be as stubborn as a bull when it came to things like this. Sighing slightly, you took a sip of your own tea, then a bite of the mochi, Kento's eyes now following the shape of your lips over the rim of his cup.

You almost choked.

Now this was unexpected. Glancing down, you desperately fought the urge to burst into laughter when you realized what had happened. He'd purchased mochi filled with natto instead of red beans. In his rush, he must have got them mixed. Natto wasn't a common filling either, but this was a specialty shop, so it must have been made on the day.

"Something wrong?"

"Not at all. They're so soft and fresh. It's been a while since I've had any like this."

"Oh?"

He looked so pleased with himself that you silently patted yourself on the back for managing to conceal that so well. At that moment, the door to the office burst open and Gojo strolled in. Tall and charismatic as ever, he glanced around, gaze almost traveling right over you as he focused on the target of his attention.

"Nanami! Why are you holed up in here? I've been looking for you all over. Where's the report?"

The tension lines on Kento's forehead were back in full force.

"I'm attempting to sit down and take a break after a long day, as you can clearly see."

Gojo grinned and knocked Kento's knee with his shin.

"Okay, Mister Grump. But where's the report?"

"Filed with Ijichi, obviously. I always send my paperwork in first thing. You know this."

Gojo clicked his tongue and Kento's eye twitched alarmingly.

"Why you gotta be so proper. Now I have to go find Ijichi."

"You could have - "

"Ooohh, what's this?"

To your immense alarm, Gojo had spotted the mochi. Everyone and their grandmother knew about the special grade sorcerer's penchant for all things sweet. You attempted to push them aside slowly.

"Uh, you don't want these. They're - "

"Huh?" He pointed at you, scandalized. "Are you trying to keep them all to yourself?"

"What? No, I - "

Kento stood and folded his arms in a manner that showed just how much he meant business.

"Gojo, leave those mochi alone."

"Oh hell no. You go all the way to the mochi store I've been dying to go to all week, and you don't even get me any? What kind of friend are you?"

Before either of you could stop him (for very different reasons) he grabbed one of the mochi and popped it into his mouth. He chewed happily before stopping suddenly, face crumpling, gagging slightly.

"What the hell? Why is there natto in these?"

Kento turned, very slowly, in your direction. Studiously avoiding his gaze, you cleared your throat.

"That was at my request. I love natto mochi. That's why I tried to stop you from eating them."

Grabbing your half-full cup of tea, Gojo took a large gulp in an attempt to wash away the flavour.

"Natto mochi? Why? Just .... why? Oh, never mind. Thanks for trying to stop me anyway. Oi, Nanamin, you owe me some strawberry mochi for next time, okay?"

So saying, the whirlwind that was Gojo exited your office, footsteps shuffling away on the floor outside. You examined your fingernails. Kento's gaze was burning into the back of your head.

"Ahem. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"No?"

"Why didn't you tell me these were natto?"

"I like natto."

"Liar."

You huffed out a small laugh, finally meeting his disapproving expression with a mischievous one.

"Fine. I'm not a fan of natto. But you were so happy to give them to me, Kento. I just wanted to see you smiling and looking relaxed for a change, so I - "

Before you could utter another word, he had plucked the glasses away from his face with a decisive motion and taken two strides into your space, his arms coming up and surrounding you in an embrace that pulled you like a vice into his chest.

"Kento?"

Your voice was a little shaky, not in an unpleasant way, as he leaned forward without hesitation, tilting his head. You swiftly dodged away, your breathless laugh mingling with his own unsteady breathing.

"The door isn't closed all the way. And I've just... wait! I've just eaten natto, you - "

His mouth was positively hungry on yours this time. Regardless of whatever flavour was lingering there, he was pushing you back until the desk collided with your thighs, his hand coming up to grasp and tilt your face until your mouth fell open helplessly against his. He was licking into you like a man starved, pausing in between to whisper to you about how he'd missed you, how he wanted you, how you looked so beautiful today and now his lips were on your throat, then on your mouth again, teeth knocking against yours, clumsy in his passion. There was something so fierce, uncontrolled, so primal about the way he was touching you, as if every restraint he had placed on himself (and by extension, yourself) had come crashing down among the rapidly narrowing spaces between your bodies.

Your hands were on his shoulders, and it probably looked as if you were trying to push him off you, but you were actually bracing yourself as something warm and molten started to run straight down the middle of your body, making you hyper-sensitive to his touch, to the feel of him on you. He was so large, so warm, so solid, the ripple of sinew against underlying muscle so evident under your fingers. You could run your hands over him like this forever, mapping out every new delight he laid bare for you.

Something like sanity was beginning to make itself known to the both of you now, the awareness of where you were, of the rules of propriety, and Kento removed his mouth from yours with a twist of his neck, looking away from you, breathing hard. He was now murmuring a soft apology, but you weren't having it. You covered his mouth with your hand and tugged slightly, making him look at you again, forcing him to take in your appearance, as he'd left you. He was none the better.

You removed your hand and took him in, the flushed cheeks, the blonde strands coming down around his ears, the glazed molten honey of his eyes and moistened lips. This man was so beautiful, he'd be the death of you. You told him so, and he gave a small, slightly disbelieving chuckle. But you let him read the truth in your regard of him all the same, the way you were drinking in the sight of him.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say Kento was overcome with a little shyness then. He lowered his face and his nose found purchase on your collarbone. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly, but gently. After a few moments of him basking in your embrace, he pulled away and cleared his throat, smoothing out his shirt. You took in a steadying breath and did the same to your own rumpled appearance.

He spent the remainder of your shift seated at a safe distance behind the other desk in the room, using the desktop PC to order up a replacement for his leather blade holster that was showing signs of wear. At times, your eyes would catch his, regarding you with a certain kind of tenderness in the dim glow of the office lamps. That expression was new. You delighted in it, as you did in every new aspect of himself he revealed to you.

When your shift ended, he insisted on walking you to the train.

Of course, he apologizes for his behaviour later. Even though the thought has long since ceased to bother you, he has been going over it in his mind, as you expected. He was the one who initiated the kiss in your office, after all. When you arrive home, warm up the food you'd pre-prepared in the fridge and finish with your bath, your phone is lit up with a small, insistent reminder.

Unable to help the small laugh that escapes you, you read his message.

"I don't know what came over me earlier. Please pardon my behaviour. I'm not offering excuses, but I did miss your presence."

The infinite sweetness that wells up inside you threatens to have you type something that you might want to take back. Like inviting him over so that he can fall asleep in your lap while your fingers card through his soft hair.

"Please don't apologize. I enjoyed that as much as you did, and you know it."

"You did?"

"Absolutely."

There is a pause before his next message.

"I did miss you."

"I missed you terribly, Kento. Was it a tough week?"

"Not difficult. Just draining. On surveillance."

"Please go to sleep soon."

"Are you already tired of me?"

"Are you already being melodramatic?"

"Nobody has ever called me melodramatic before."

"You just hide it well."

"As well as my desire to hold you?"

Your fingers still for a moment. How brazen.

"Not as much as my desire to kiss you all over your handsome face."

"You find me handsome?"

You can clearly picture that subtly pleased expression of his and almost roll your eyes. Of course Kento wouldn't take much note of his own appearance.

"Can you think of anyone who wouldn't find you handsome?"

"That's a matter of perspective."

"Name one. Go on."

"Gojo."

"Now you're playing dangerous games."

"How so?"

"If he were to receive an anonymous email asking him to sing praises to your beauty all week ... "

"All right. I take it back."

"Too late. Now go to sleep."

"Have mercy on me."

There is a small pause before his next reply comes.

"Goodnight, my darling."

For a long time, before you go to sleep, your heart hums a pleasant, warm rhythm to that word.

@tsukimefuku @kentocalls @actuallysaiyan @g-kleran

[upsidedownmvnson]

reader is insecure about big boobs | eddie munson

warnings: reader is insecure about big boobies :(

requested by anon <3

"What's left on the list, my love?"

Eddie Munson was a powerhouse of a boyfriend, always. Not in sheer strength, but just in general boyfriendiness. Today you guys were out and about in town, just running errands for you. So far today you'd gotten your haircut, went to the dentist, did the groceries for your house, dropped something off to your friend, and now you guys were at the mall, eating french fries and taking a little break.

Not once did Eddie get annoyed, bored, or impatient. He just followed along, performing finger drum songs in various waiting rooms while you were busy. In fact, you'd told him it would be boring but he insisted that he be your private chariot for the day.

You unfold the weak paper. It's been folded and unfolded this sheet so many times that it was just begging to fall apart. The blue pen was fading as if you hadn't written this last night.

You sigh, "just bra shopping."

"Best for last," Eddie grinned, rubbing his hands together.

Obviously, he'd never been bra shopping before. You had. You would spend the next hour trying on bras that don't fit and will end up paying forty bucks for a bra you don't even like, and barely fit into, like one weight flux and it would start gathering dust in your drawer.

But what are you supposed to do? They never have your size, and when they do they're neon pink, or have the same effect as a sports bra, and you already wore a sports bra enough. You wanted something sexy, something to push up the girls and say, "hey look at me! I probably don't have stretch marks from being pulled down to her belly button all the time!"

But you do...

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes before you could even say anything else. Bra shopping is the worst and you'd already had a long day.

"Hey, hey," Eddie said softly, recognizing the overwhelmed look in your eye. He stood up and shimmied around so he could sit beside you in the booth. "What happened? What's wrong, Petal?"

"Maybe we should just call it," you said, wiping at a tear that managed to sneak out. "And I can do this tomorrow."

"Wouldn't you like to just get it out of the way? I can help you real quick and then I can take you home, we can set up a movie night and just relax the rest of the day? How's that sound?"

It sounded really good. And the way he spoke softly and kindly reassured you that he's got your back, and he probably wouldn't even laugh at you if you told him the truth, which you were considering. Maybe he could even help?

"What if I can't find anything?"

"Then I'll take you somewhere else."

"What is they laugh at me?"

"Then I'll burn the store down."

You laughed, and he smiled, putting an arm around you and pulling you into his side. He kissed the top of your head a few times before resting his chin on your head.

"C'mon Petal, tell me what's bothering you."

"Eddie, have you ever been bra shopping? I have watermelons strapped to my chest, nothing fits! And when it does it gives me uniboob. And uniboob even costs like a thousand dollars - and even then, I'm- I'm..." you sniffle, trying not to cry in the middle of the food court.

"Baby..." he cooed, holding you tightly. He didn't care if people saw the pda, he would comfort you when and where you needed it. You couldn't see his face, but where you imagined him cringing, he was just smiling sadly. He hated that you felt like this. "I wish you saw what I saw."

"I wish you felt what I felt," you said. "They're literally weighing me down."

"I have a solution."

"That's not you just holding them up all day?"

"I do not have a solution."

"It's just frustrating."

"I know baby," he said, "Can I just... I don't want to make it worse but baby, you are so gorgeous. Top to bottom, just perfection. I know you might hate them, but personally..." Eddie sighed, you were still smushed into his chest, but pulled away to see his face. He pushed his own chin into his neck to look down at you, but somehow still looked ridiculously beautiful. He grinned. "Personally I like when they spill through my fingers."

"Eddie!"

"What!? It's so true, there's so much to grab. To kiss. Ugh, just suffocate me with them so I can die happy."

You giggled, "Okay you win for now. Let's go do this - but if I need to talk to an employee I'm making you do it."

"Deal."

As you gathered your stuff, Eddie watched you. Honestly shocked that someone as beautiful as you even found time to bother with insecurities. He would do literally anything to make you see yourself the way that he sees you.

He takes your bags, holding the girly shopping bags with no hesitation or problem.

And he says, "but I can help you hold them up later, right?"

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to buy peanut butter and honey for everyone when I'm already buying it for myself when I'm in charge of buying groceries?

Names: my name is Nichole 19 f, Jake 20 m, Tams mtf.

A basic run down of the situation, we all live together and we have figured out that because rent is a bit cheeper where we live and I have the most money out of all of us, Jake and Tams split the rent and I cover our groceries which to feed all three of us, is a little over the total cost rent, meaning I am spending the most money out of all us. Rent is about $600 so they are both spending only $300 dollars each.

I have two lists that everyone writes down groceries items on. One list, the priority list is for meals and the secondary list is for wants such as snacks foods. I set a budget of $800 and as long as I can cover all the priority items for the month, I will get what I can on the secondary list.

The reason why I don't buy everyone peanut butter and honey is rather petty sounding, but it is that neither of them ever add those items to either list, and I will buy small jars of both and mix them together to eat by myself because neither Jack or Tams likes the mixture and I only buy enough to last me about 10 days so I don't like to share the unmixed peanut butter and honey since it's all I'll I have of it for the month.

They don't even think about peanut butter or honey until they see my mixture in the back of fridge a day and will then team up to berate me for not getting everyone peanut butter and honey and being selfish and a bad roommate. I always tell them they didn't put it on any of the lists and this is just a treat for myself but they argue back that I should have just gotten it anyways. And this agreement has been going on for a few months now.

But the reason why I am so incessant on the lists, and why I even made them in the first place, is because I use to keep buying myself snacks and then they would ask me to buy everyone snacks and I didn't think about it until I realized I was spending pretty much all my money on food. We had a talk when I realized this, and while they grumbled about it they agreed to the budget and the lists so I wasn't stuck paying an unfair amount of my paycheck on us compared to them.

I know that maybe it's just my anxiety, but I can't help but feel like they are disrespecting this boundary I set with my money every time they insult me for not buying peanut butter and honey for everyone when if they wanted it so badly, and I even tell them this, they write it down right then and there for next months grocery trip or they could even just hand me the cash and have me go pick it up for them rather then expecting me to buy it for them when it wasn't and never is on the lists they agreed to. I also just don't understand why when I tell them to just add it to list for next month or to hand me the money to get it for them they storm off and do neither of those things, but I am rather social stunted from a rather isolated childhood so maybe this behavior has a very easy to see reason I'm just not getting

I know it sounds really petty, I really do, but I just really don't want to relent on this boundary and then for them to later use it as excuse to begin asking for more and more again until I can't afford it. But maybe I'm just being unreasonable and a petty asshole, but maybe I'm not, I honestly have no idea

What are these acronyms?

[glubsurleseuil]

Don't be scared - Chapter 1

This is the first chapter - Next

A Pennywise X F!Reader fanfic 'cause I need to get these ideas out of my head before they eat me up. I'll post this thing on AO3 when I'm not so lazy to create an account. If I go ahead with it, it'll be NSFW, sexually disturbing, gory, violent, reader is an autistic drepressed suicidal girl… In short, skip it if you're a sensitive soul. For the rest of you, enjoy (I hope).

(Note: It was translated by Deepl, English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you want to correct me, don't hesitate!)

(Note 2: The image is by @fandomscreenshots but you should already know that because what she does is amazing)

You've always lived in Derry, Maine. Well, actually you were born in Derry, went to school in Derry and, like any good citizen, you now work in Derry. You don't like it, you never have, and you know that no matter what you do, you'll never like it.

Firstly, because no matter how hard you try since childhood, you just can't seem to make any friends. Worse, people seem to have agreed to shut you out and hate you. At best, they ignore you, at worst… well, let's just say there are certain people you've learned to avoid at all costs, so you don't have to spend the evening licking your wounds…

Secondly, because there's something unhealthy about the general atmosphere of this town, as if it were being devoured by a cancer that affected not only the surrounding greenery, but also the buildings and even the people. A cancer that could be called suffering, melancholy or despair. And although no one knows where these feelings come from, everyone seems to accept them as an inevitable burden.

Tonight, like most evenings, you're working at the Canal Rouge, a rather quiet bar where people can drink and listen to local artists perform on a small stage. You're a waitress, and it's not the most pleasant of jobs, especially when you're a woman. Fortunately, your boss is a woman too, and she's very strict about the respect customers show her staff, so things could be a lot worse.

But tonight, you're in a particularly bad mood. Fatigue has always been a difficult thing for you to deal with, and lately your nights have been… tormented. You've been having a dream, always the same with little difference, on and off for over a week. It's a hazy, dark, incoherent dream that's hard to remember. What you remember most is anguish, fear… and an unbearable feeling of being watched by something dangerous, making you feel like prey waiting to be devoured. When your therapist asked you to describe this dream, even with random words, you said 'fear', 'red' and… 'clown'. You laughed after saying that last word, a nervous, uncontrolled laugh, like a continuation of the one you always hear in this dream before waking up.

But tonight, the worst is yet to come, because you have to serve Jenny's gang as consumers, young people your own age who, like you, are stuck in Derry and like to pass the time by annoying other people. Especially you, since you met them in kindergarten. You know you won't be able to get home safely tonight…

And your fears are confirmed as you finish your shift. As you emerge into the alley to which the service door leads, you see them laughing at the end of it, looking in your direction. This is the way home. You quickly think of another option, but you know that even if you take a longer route, they'll be able to corner you sooner or later, and that's what they'll do. Unless… you go through the forest…

You don't hesitate, knowing that your pursuers won't follow. Their parents have given them the same instructions as you: never go into the forest at night. Ever. Your father had made it clear that he meant business by emphasizing his order with the back of his hand. But tonight, you're a grown-up, and between your dead father's old superstitions and Jenny and her gang's guaranteed beating, the choice was quickly made.

You head into the forest, at first more worried about your pursuers who, as expected, quickly abandon their target. Then you decide to turn on the torch on your phone, as it quickly becomes very dark between the tightly packed trees in the middle of the night. You recognize the path you're on and follow it to the ancient oak tree where you used to climb as a child to escape the bullies. But even this place, reassuring by day, gives off a menacing aura by night…

All is quiet, too quiet for a forest where animals should be going about their nocturnal lives. You get the impression that a kind of fog is floating around, light but unnatural, and as you look at the thick branches of the oak tree, you get a strange feeling… Like a memory from another life… Like a dream…

Suddenly, there's a sound. A sound you know well, having heard it every night for over a week. A laugh. A clown's laugh… You turn in all directions, shining your phone in every nook and cranny around the oak. And just as you realize that there's nothing there, that maybe it's your imagination playing tricks on you, the laughter starts up again. You jump back against the tree, light pointed ahead, anticipating the appearance of someone, something… The laughter becomes more distinct, closer… But it's not coming from in front of you, nor from the sides… It comes… from above?

With a quick gesture, you point the light towards the branches of the oak tree and there, hidden in the shadows of the leaves, you see it: a clown. No, THE clown. The one who has haunted your dreams, distressed your nights, devoured your sanity. This present moment has repeated itself endlessly in your nightmare and now it's all happening for real, clear as day and just as terrifying.

With a muffled scream, you drop your phone, the lamp face down and your legs buckling beneath you. The little light that escapes from beneath your phone only faintly illuminates the bottom of the tree, but you know IT's there.

And it's not long before he leaps down from the tree. You can only make out a silhouette in the darkness, and as you hear him coming closer, you try to remember the end of the dream. It's all a blur, and all that comes back is a vague memory of a hunt in which you are the prey… Back on the grassy ground, you pull yourself back as best you can with your hands, never taking your eyes off the presence. Is this how you're going to die?

He moves slowly closer, slipping into the shadows. You can make out that he's leaning forward, then addressing you in a childlike voice.

"Hiya Y/N! I'm Pennywise, the dancing clown!"

He suddenly picks up your phone from the floor, pulling it up slowly, light downwards, gradually revealing his appearance as he continues.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, you know? Don't be scared, I'm not going to kill you…"

As he utters these words, light finally shines on his face, reflected in his abnormally large and sharp teeth, piercing yellow eyes focused on you, and horror fills you.

"… yet."

The instinct to survive gives you new energy. You leap to your feet and flee the way you came, briefly illuminated by your phone in the clown's hands. You run at full speed, ignoring the noises behind you that make you think he's chasing you. If you've got a chance of getting away, you're going to take it. In fact, the forest exit isn't far off. One last push! You close your eyes and accelerate again… when hands often clutch your collar, brutally stopping your momentum.

"There you are, you bastard!"

"I told you she'd come back! She's such a pussy!"

"No way out now, you bitch!"

Jenny and her gang… It was Tim, the big muscular guy who caught you. They were waiting for you just outside the forest…

"Why are you running so fast? Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?"

They burst out laughing, but the sound reaches you distorted. The adrenalin from your run is wearing off too slowly and you can still hear your heart pounding in your eardrums. You struggle on, your brain unable to make sense of what has just happened. Suddenly, you hear a foul noise. A kind of hoarse, inhuman growl, coming out of the depths of the woods like an echo to their pitiful mocking laughter. You feel Tim's hands trembling with uncontrollable fear on your collar and watch their faces disintegrate before your eyes. Tim lets go and they all flee in a single scream of terror, leaving you behind.

You turn around, your body still tired from your frantic run, and you quickly understand what made them flee: golden eyes, shining menacingly in the darkness, perched on a huge, muscular, fur-covered figure, its multiple sharp teeth accentuating the evil growl rolling down its throat. A werewolf.

You barely have time to realize that it's the clown from earlier before he disappears between the trees with a hoot that sends shivers down your spine. Just as you regain your strength to flee, something falls near you. You examine it carefully: it's your phone, and as you turn the screen towards you, you see a message written in a torn red font:

DON'T BE SCARED

You don't wait any longer and run towards town without looking back.

[atopvisenyashill]

If Jaehaerys was all about minimizing the power of Targaryen daughters but marrying them off to less-than-ideal suitors (love that idea), how do you think that applies to the match of Rhaenys and Corlys? Does it, even? Or does it need to, given expected Rhaenys's station at the time? He says she couldn't have picked a better man.

And, also, do you think this can be applied to Daemon's match with Rhea?

LETS DIG INNNN okay this got so longgggg but i was trying to be fair while also discussing like, so much sex crime-

So like the post said re: Alyssa & Baelon’s marriage, I think there's some interference from Alysanne here. Especially early on in their marriage, before she's made it clear that she can in fact live without his ass, I think we have several cases where he's ~indulging~ Alysanne's more romantic ideas about what ruling should look like and what being a targaryen should be about. Giving her wins that ultimately don’t cost him much (before she starts asking for things he doesn’t approve of).

I think by the time Rhaenys marries Corlys, Jaehaerys has already written her off as a potential heir, but if he denies her marriage to Corlys, that risks not only pissing off Corlys - who imo already has A Whole Thing about being Just As Valyrian As The Targaryens, so he will take offense - but also tips Alysanne off to the fact that he has no intention of letting the crown pass to Rhaenys or her sons. He knows this is a sore spot for her because she insisted that little Daenerys be considered crown princess and heir over Aemon, and Jaehaerys already brushed her off about that. So if he tries to marry Rhaenys off to like, a Tully who already has three heirs or some random Darry, Alysanne is going to argue that Rhaenys deserves a much loftier match given her status, and get really paranoid about why Rhaenys is getting a shitty match. I think he's trying to put off naming Baelon as his/Aemon’s heir for as long as possible because he knows it's going to be a fight, especially given that Alysanne is usually the one in charge of marriages, and this has precedent (that marriages are the Queen's domain - Visenya and Rhaenys made marriage matches as well).

But also. I think (and I can't believe I'm gonna do my man Ned dirty like this) that like Ned (bleh), Jaehaerys learns the "wrong lesson" from his sister. Rhaena married extremely beneath her and that caused major problems for her, so Jaehaerys is making sure that Rhaenys doesn't marry far beneath her as well. Because see, Rhaena spends much of her life miserable, without a direction in life, without even a castle to her name that she can hide out in. Everything that is hers is actually Jaehaerys' and it eats away at her until the day she dies. Beyond that, keeping Rhaena on as a guest is expensive because people want to see her, because she comes with her own household, and because she has a whole ass dragon that needs to be fed. So even if she wanted to live off the goodwill of others, that goodwill runs out quick due to logistics. She only gets Harrenhal because Maegor Towers is sickly and the last of his line, and even then, it's not really hers - it belongs to the crown.

I think Jaehaerys looked at how unhappy she was and what a huge pain in the ass it was, and figures he needs to give Rhaenys a consolation prize in a way he doesn’t need to give to the younger daughters, bc they never had a chance to inherit. Rhaenys has assumed the crown will pass if not to her then to her son, as has Alysanne, and I think its likely Aemon and Jocelyn also assumed that the crown would pass to Rhaenys' eventual son. Jaehaerys can’t just deny her all the trappings of being crown princess/mother to a king and expect her to take it lying down. And to be clear, I do think there’s some emotional aspect to this - I think he did feel guilty over stealing Rhaena’s crown and throne even if he felt he was doing it ~for the good of the realm bc Aegon had died. When Rhaena makes her “you are rhaenys i am visenya i have always known this” comment, she nails the dynamic, but I think Rhaena being the ~rejected bride~ does hurt Jaehaerys - she deserved, in his eyes, to grow old with their brother and have the power of a queen consort. BUT. At the same time, he’s a raging violent misogynist who believes Alysanne is the only exception to her gender, that it is simply right and natural that a woman only derives power from her husband. It’s why Baelon gets to claim Balerion when he’s young, but Alyssa is barred until her wedding. A dragon is a responsibility, a realm is a burden, and in his eyes Alyssa Velaryon, Rhaena, and Visenya all failed to live up to the challenge. So yes, he wants something good for Rhaenys - he wants her to have a happier life than Rhaena did, and he’s willing to gamble just like he did with the Baelon/Alyssa marriage, and indulge Rhaenys and Alysanne in giving her a dragon and a husband who could back her claim because she needs something to keep her calm when he inevitably usurps her, in contrast to the way Rhaena had absolutely nothing to distract her from her misery. And his gamble pays off is the thing - he neutralizes her dragon and her husband bc Corlys is off fighting still when the announcement is made, and Rhaenys is heavily pregnant and probably not really riding Meleys. He figured - bc of his love for Alyssa, Alysanne, and Rhaenys, however goddamn deranged and ultimately meaningless that love is - that he could move the pieces enough to get the outcome he thought was best and he was right!

For Daemon's part, I do think this is part of why Alysanne ships him off to the Vale yes. Notable to me that every marriage match does have a seat of their own, even if it's not an important one, unlike second son Androw Farman - Daella would have gotten the Eyrie, Viserra would have gotten White Harbor, and while none of Saera's matches were lofty they were all heirs with nice enough seats. But Daemon would run into a similar problem where it would be too expensive to keep him around if he marries some random noble lady living with her dad, but if he marries too high up that’s just as bad, so giving him an heiress and then kicking him the fuck out is a good way to deal with him.

BUT. I actually do have a conspiracy theory here that something happened at KL that caused a huge stir within the family and Alysanne dealt with it by shipping Daemon off. What happened? Well...obviously I think Viserys and Daemon got caught fucking lmao, I call myself a Visaemon truther for a reason. I do also think there's a chance that Alysanne suspected Daemon was fucking around with Gael as well - they're only a year apart, they grew up in King’s Landing together, Gael & Alysanne have been back at court a few years, Targaryens love to do that stuff, etc. I’m not saying he IS the father, the timeline is close enough that they could have fucked around but not close enough to have gotten her pregnant - he marries Rhea in 97 and Gael disappears from court in 99. But my other conspiracy about Jaehaerys being the father does kinda fit this too - that Alysanne noticed something was up but suspected the wrong man. I don't think Alysanne would ever want to even entertain the thought that Jaehaerys was raping one of her daughters, even if she realized what he had done to Alysanne herself was rape. Much easier to blame it on/suspect eternal Problem Child Daemon, especially if he's also being groomed by fucking Viserys; he's already an oversexed lecher who seduced gentle, married Viserys away from sweet Aemma, what else isn't he capable of? (and the double tap there of like, hypersexualization of bisexuality + Alysanne’s complete refusal to deal with how unhappy she is with Jaehaerys equals, to me, her constantly punishing her children and grandchildren because she can’t punish Jaehaerys, and proving this point to herself that she couldn’t have been manipulated into marrying him because look, her daughters are marrying the same way as well. And if she suspects even subconsciously that Jaehaerys is raping Gael? And punishes Daemon for ~seducing~ her poor sweet innocent Gael and stealing away Viserys from his sweet innocent wife Aemma? yeah that tracks with how she treats Saera and Viserra).

um tldr i think jaehaerys simply gambled that he could still control the situation when it came to defanging rhaenys, but also knew he couldn’t just give her nothing, if not for sentiment sake, then at least for logistics sake and to avoid a small rebellion, so when rhaenys & alysanne float the match, he can’t say no to it, so he just controls it. and i do think alysanne sent daemon off to the vale in part to defang him as well, yes, in addition to my not insane i’m right conspiracies about exactly what was cookin in king’s landing circa 97-99 ac (it was a lot of sex crimes, that’s what was cookin).

[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, imprisonment, stalking, unhealthy relationship

Entering their world

So Ramshackle is once more a place people (or rather an individual) live in, right?

Kalim in typical Kalim Al-Asim fashion of course wanted to celebrate this joyous event, especially since the world had been so glum since the Overseer hadn’t graced them with their all-knowing gaze for two entire days

Two entire days, I tell you! Two entire days in which no riches of the world could buy him something to make this time less bleak

So fifty five flamingos and exactly seven elephants later there he is, knocking on the door of Ramshackle to invite you to the festivities

Only for you, his beloved Overseer to open

Mhm, he isnt inviting you

For the first time in the history of “character is always sunshiny”-plot armor Kalim is lost for words, gawking at your figure in the doorframe who is worriedly asking him if he is alright

So, sunny boy over here is at the brink of passing out, probably because his adrenaline levels have breached the realms of possibility, making his heart miss a few heartbeats too much but this is a world with magic so let's not question too many things

Jamil actually had to get the not-so-made-out-of-stone petrified Kalim, nearly getting a heart attack himself by seeing that it was you

Yeah... that planned celebration also didn't happen

This led to fifty four flamingos and exactly seven elephants being sent back home, one of the flamingos seeing that one of their cousins was used to play cricket, deciding to stay after reuniting after five years of separation

But before we get sidetracked by Heartslabyul students tearing up after witnessing the reunion of two pink birds we have to talk about our most favorite future sultan, then we can talk about tearing up Heartslabyul students

So Kalim was a cause of concern for Jamil, and not in the usual way

No, whilst Jamil wanted to bow to you as well Kalim was too silent. So silent in fact that Jamil got so worried that he put his plans of betrayal on the back burner for a while and looked after his childhood... friend? Employer? Friemployer!

Also, whilst it was usually a bit hard to get Kalim into his calm enough self to sleep, Kalm (ok this one is bad, I know), it was creepily easy to get the young man to relax now, almost as if he wanted to be in his room all alone without anyone at his back and call

“Why?” the confused reader said. “Why should this be important to the story?” They continued

Well because soon there also turns up a photo album filled with pictures of you sleeping, eating and much, much more

I think you finally know what our equivalent to a sunflower in the human version has done during the time he wasn't supervised

Give him a week as well and he returns to normal... more or less

I just hope you don't mind company that won't leave you 24/7 because you will spend a lot of time with your new stalker friend

No matter where you go, no matter where you hide, there is no escape

Soon items disappear as well, replaced with a much more expensive version of it

And whilst I have never seen a rubber costing more than a few bucks I am sure that Kalim over there can find and give you one that costs so much that it could cover the renovation of Ramshackle

Jewelry. The Al-Asim heir might not be a Fae but that doesn't mean seeing you wearing something he gifted you won't make him feel good, no, downright euphoric

It's almost like you favor him

And thank goodness for the plot armor of a “sunny side” character because you are only wearing them because that dead look in his eyes scares you whenever he sees you without something of his, him not even noticing that

Kalim has imagined a future with you, of course, he did, we are talking about a yandere setting after all and what would be a yandere setting without the classical trope of the Yandere having imagined their future with the unfortunate soul who is adored by them

He can see you two having a family, adopted or not does not matter, you living in his palace, you being always by his side, smiling...

Oh the outside world? Ha! No

There is no outside world. Only you two and if he has to shackle you to him then so be it!

[gachawolfiebloom]

SMG4 Tale

Chapter 1: Falling Down

What was supposed to be a nice day for a hike in the forest had turned into a constant headache thanks to Mario's whining and complaining. Five minutes in and the Italian was throwing out the common excuses of

"Mario's feet hurt!"

"Mario is-a too tired! Someone carry him!"

"Mario's hungry! Can we go back to the castle?"

"Go on...without...Mario...*cough*"

This was all just because Mario hated getting his exercise and would rather watch TV or eat a plate of spaghetti than go outside. Smg4 was absolutely fed up already as he groaned and told his best friend "Mario, we've only been walking for five minutes." Meggy sighed and tried to convince him "Come on Mario. It's not that bad. It's good to get the fresh air in your lungs and look at nature."

"Pffff what is Mario? A caveman?"

To be honest, Smg4 wasn't sure about this either. It was nice to spend time with his friends, but he could be working on his latest video right now. Those memories of being chased around in the woods at night, only to find out the watermelon man was Melony's dad. And all those horror games Mario forced him to play where they would throw the classic situation of walking around in a spooky forest with nothing, but a flashlight.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Meggy suddenly stopped and said "Uh Smg4...has this mountain always been here?" The other two came up to see what she was looking at. There stood a giant mountain that looked oddly familiar, but Four couldn't remember from where. "I don't think so. It seems a little tall to be from around here." Mario approached the mountain and began kicking the base, screaming "Move you stupid rock!" You're blocking the way!" Meggy looked around and said "It's too wide to go around so I guess we'll have to climb it."

"Uggggg Mario doesn't want to!" Smg4 motioned "I second that. This thing could take hours to climb." Meggy didn't listen and started up. "Come on guys. Let's just check it out for a second. If it's too tall we can just head back." The boys watched her, still unsure as Four sighed. It wouldn't hurt to take a quick peek...right? He carefully followed Meggy behind with Mario's brain still stuck on a loading screen.

"Hey! Wait for Mario!" Both had already taken off. Didn't this seem a little weird? Climbing a strange mountain that didn't belong. Maybe they should have just booked it out of there, but these intrusive thoughts of Four were telling him to make his way up there. Mario tried to catch up with his friends, refusing to be left out. He then noticed a sign that was poking out of the ground on one of the cliffs and Mario stopped.

Mario's face began to melt into panic as he studied the message. The walls felt like they were closing in, until everything went back to normal and Mario shrugged. "Sorry Mr sign, but Mario doesn't like to read. Oh well." He continued on his merry way while the sign said "WARNING: Do not go into the cave at the top of Mt Ebott. Those who climb this mountain have never returned. I repeat, DO NOT GO INTO THE CAVE AT ALL COSTS!" Meggy and Four were almost to the top at a steady pace while Mario was racing to beat them.

He used the umping abilities he developed over the course of many games to quickly get to the top. "Hey! Don't leave Mario-" All of them were looking down a giant opening in the ground. "Ooooo look! A strange hole in the ground!" Meggy was curious, wondering "How far down do you think it goes?" It seemed foolish to test it. I mean there was some vines and small cliffs you could use to climb down a little. You'd have to be someone really stupid or gullible to even try to go down there. Then Mario got an idea. An awful idea. Mario got a wonderfully, awful idea.

"I don't know and I don't want to find out." Four then noticed that Mario was looking at him with a conniving grinch face. "Mario dares Smg4 to climb down that hole."

"WHAT!? NO! WHAT HAPPENS IF I FALL!?" Meggy nodded and said "He's right Red. That's not very safe." Mario didn't listen and began teasing Four to get him to go down. "You're being a whiny baby Smg4. Just climb down to that platform...unless you're too scared." Now this was Four's weakness. That and a million other things. But every time someone challenged or pressured him to do something, he never missed an opportunity to prove them wrong. "I'm not scared!"

Mario was not thinking of the dangers at all and continued with the banter. "Oh lookie Meggy! Smg4 is scared! He's too chicken to climb down!" Mario began mocking him by making chicken noises and laughing at him. "You're afraid of the dark! You're afraid of heights! You're afraid to go alone!"

"No..."

"Stop it Mario!"

Neither of them were paying attention to her as Four wasn't sure what to do. It was made pretty clear you would be stuck if you fell, but all Mario was asking him to do was jump down to a platform that was a few meters away. The teasing and laughter got the better of him as he told them "Fine! I'll prove it! Watch me!"

"What are you doing Smg4!?" Meggy questioned as he reasoned "I'm not going to let him call me chicken! Let me just get it over with and then we'll leave." Four grabbed a nearby vine and started climbing down. His friends watched him, Mario in excitement and Meggy in concern. Carefully he swung over to the ledge that was pointed out to him and he leaned his back up against the wall. A few minutes later, he called out "Alright! I did it! I'm coming up now!" Meggy breathed a sigh of relief as Four started heading back up.

All was going well until he felt a tug on his foot. "Huh?" He looked down and saw his foot caught in a vine on the ledge. He struggled, but it was really tangled and the plant had a strong grip. "Uh...timeout guys. I've got a problem here." Meggy bended over and saw the issue. She facepalmed and said "I knew this was a bad idea."

"Wut?" She pointed a finger in the Italian's face and said "Because of your stupid dare, Four is stuck!" Mario looked down, noticing Four tussling to pull the vine off. "Uh oh..." Meggy wanted to slap herself again, but consoled Four's nerves by telling him "Hang on Four! We'll find something to pull you up." They began tying vines together to make a rope. Four kept struggling when he thought he heard a snap. His eyes widened and he looked down to see the vine he was caught in was starting to break. "Hurry guys! I don't know how long this vine will last!"

"And...done!" The two of them thew the rope of vines down and called out "Grab this!" Four reached his hand out to grab the rope, but it was too late. The vine had snapped into pieces and Four lost his balance, sending him falling down the hole. "SMG4! NOOOOOOO!" Mario cried out, extending his arm. Meggy held her hands over her mouth in horror. They were speechless, tears fighting to get out.

Meggy's trembling hands clenched into fists as she swung around and yelled "MARIO YOU IDIOT! THIS IS ALL YOU FAULT! IF YOU HADN'T MADE THAT STUPID BET WITH HIM, THEN FOUR WOULD BE OKAY! BUT HE'S GONE NOW! HE'S GONE AND-"  Mario took back the dumb things he said in great regret and said "Mario's so so sorry! He just meant it as a funny joke! He didn't mean to make Smg4 fall! Pinky swear!" Forcing Four to do something so stupid and reckless. How could he have done that to his best friend?

"Smg4 will be okie dokie right?" She sniffed and said "I don't know Mario." She carefully got up and said with a croaking voice "But maybe we can still save him. Let's go home right now and get out friends to form a rescue party." Mario definitely agreed to that plan, ready to fix this mess, but he still found himself just staring down the hole. Who knows what could be happening to Smg4 right now. Whatever it was, Four was going to be incredibly pissed once he got out. Meggy could sense Mario's deep worry and placed a hand on his shoulder. They started to head down the mountain as Meggy called out "Don't worry Smg4! We'll get you help! Just stay right there!"

...

"Ugh...what happened?"

Four opened his eyes as he felt a slim ray of light on his face. It took him a while to gain back his memories, but then it all came flooding back to him. Mario had dared him to jump down and he had stupidly agreed. God, what was he thinking? Why didn't he think this through? Sitting up, he felt something underneath him. A bed of beautiful golden flowers on a patch of grass. Is this why he didn't die? I mean, the fall was pretty far down. Four observed more of his surroundings and saw a hallway past the flowers. The added darkness made it a little creepy.

"Oh absolutely not! I'll take my chances climbing out of here instead!" Four instantly sprung out of the bed that had saved his life. Not even one bit of gratefulness. He was probably too blinded by sheer panic. Desperately, he tried grabbing onto the wall and scrambling his way up in hopes of escaping, but he kept slipping off. It wouldn't work anyway. The opening was way too far away for someone to climb their way to escape. His next option...screaming!

Hey began yelling as loud as he could "MARIO!? MEGGY!? ARE YOU THERE!?" No response. Maybe someone else nearby would hear him. He began calling out the names of his other friends, wishing anyone would answer and help him. "SMG3!? TARI!? SAIKO!? BOOPKINS!? BOB!? SOMEONE!? ANYONE!?" He kept screaming to the point that his voice became quite hoarse. Slowly he rested his head against the cold, cavernous wall and whimpered. He slid down to the ground and buried himself in his knees, whispering "Please...someone...help me..."

Suddenly...he heard...a voice?

Smg4 tilted his head up and glanced down the hallway, hearing someone mumbling. He couldn't quite make out who it was, but at least it could be someone who would help him. He stood up and forced himself to go through the dark hallway. As he got closer, the mumbling got louder.

"Finally...someone has finally fell down..."

"The final pure soul I need...."

At the end of the hall was a huge doorway that held a room with nothing, but a small patch of grass in the middle. Four peeked his head around to see an ominous figure standing on that little spot and worked up the courage to investigate. "Uh...hello?" He reached his hand out shakily to the person while he thought "Is this a bad idea?"

The guy looked behind him as he jumped back in surprise. Four pulled his arm back, but he still couldn't see the stranger clearly because of the lighting. "Who are you?" Finally, the person sighed and stepped out into the light, offering a warm smile. Four was suddenly taken aback as he instantly knew who this was.

"NILES!?"

Niles waved and said "Howdy new friend! I'm Niles! Niles the Meme Guardian! Well, actually an artificial one, but it's fine!" His smile looked a little fake when he said that last part. Smg4 was at a lost for words as he stuttered "B-But w-we defeated you! I thought you died!" Niles looked at him confused and said "You must be new here to the underground. Aren't you?"

"Um...I guess so?"

Niles made a playful shrug and said "You must be so confused." This time Four shot back in a more stern tone "Actually, I have no idea what the heck is going on here!" Niles thought to himself for a moment and told Four "Someone must teach you how things work around down here!" He looked around as if he was checking to see if anyone was there when he knew he was the only one. "I guess you're stuck with me! Ready?"

"NO!"

"Here we go!"

He snapped his fingers and Four suddenly felt a strange feeling inside him. He looked down and saw a heart that was glowing bright red in his body. "What the hell!? What did you do to me!?" Niles ignored his anger and pointed at it. "See that heart? That is your soul. The very culmination of your being!" Four looked at him in displeasure and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. No kidding Sherlock, but why is it glowing?"

Niles ignored him again and continued on. "Your soul starts off weak, but you can grow strong if you gain a lot of LV." Four started to ask him "What does L-" but Niles already knew what he was going to say and told him "What does LV stand for you ask? Why LOVE of course!" Four gave him a deer in headlights look when Niles inched closer to him, making things really awkward. "You want some LOVE don't you?" Four began to tense up. Was Niles seriously hitting on him or was he just having a weird dream because of the fall?

"Don't worry! I'll share some with you!" Niles gave him a playful wink and made a stance like a video game character posing. Okay...things were getting really freaky now. He then created a bunch of glowing balls that was most certainly meme energy. "Down here, LOVE is shared through these little round orbs." Was Niles playing him like a fool? Smg4 was a meme guardian too y'know.

Niles directed the spheres around him and instructed the blue eyed man "Move around! Get as many as you can!" Smg4 was beyond confused on why Niles would try to get him to interact with his meme energy, but he shrugged it off. Eh...why not? Hopefully it would transport him out of this hellhole. He reached out and touched one, but was immediately shocked by a course of pain. "OW!"

Niles started laughing and said "YOU IDIOT! In this world, it's kill or be killed!" Four became incredibly panicked when he saw Niles' eyes turn to red and he flashed an evil smile. Four tried to run back out the door, but multiple orbs blocked his path. "Why would anyone pass up an opportunity like this!?" The balls of evil energy closed in on Four, surrounding him until he was trapped with no way out. "DIE."

He laughed manically as the orbs drew closer and closer. Four couldn't bear to watch this and shut his eyes tight, screaming out "SOMEONE HELP!" The spheres were about to attack him when out of nowhere they just...disappeared? Niles tilted his head in confusion while Four opened one eye to see what happened.

Just then, another seeping ball of light came from behind Niles and knocked him into the wall. Four kept staring at the unconscious man before a girl emerged from the shadows. "What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent boy..." Smg4 whipped his eyes around when he recognized that voice. "Ah, do not be afraid sir. I am Melony, the caretaker of the Ruins." Four was instantly overjoyed that one of his friends had finally come to save him. He rushed up and threw his arms around her, crying "Melony! I'm so glad to see you!"

She warmly smiled at him and said "Of course. I pass through this place everyday to see if anyone has fallen down." He slowly let go as she told him "You are the first one to come here in a long time." Four's smile soon faded when he realized something. "How did you get down here?"

"What do you mean? I've lived her for ages! But that's besides the point. Come! I will guide you through the catacombs." Melony turned around and signaled him to follow her with a wavering hand. "This way." She went through another doorway in front of her as Four ran after her. "Wait!"

Little did Four know, this was the beginning of a long journey...

[romanitas]

look at me go, it hasn't even been a month! we're back with (i think) the penultimate part of the spy au !! thanks to @perseannabeth who helped me figure out some plot points literally irl for the final stretch. there's always been a vague plan for the end, hopefully it lives up! also again available on ao3 if tumblr formatting screws up.

-

Annabeth hasn’t seen Percy for four and a half weeks. She’s been off the Jupiter Industries case for just as long, what with Luke Castellan’s involvement; they’re currently restructuring the plan forward. She’s not used to boredom, but she’s not sure she could consider it full boredom when her brain will not stop churning. She’s aware it’s usually a stomach churning, but no, in this case, her mind is on the go in a thousand different directions. She doesn’t feel nauseous or sick - just overwhelmed mentally, which as far as she’s concerned is one of the worst kinds. She’d rather be vomiting.

She’s back at her apartment - her real one. It’s nearly as empty as the fake one. She doesn’t keep a lot of things around, not wanting too many distractions on top of the fact that she feels like she spends very little time actually in it. The most personalization is an owl throw pillow with a matching blanket on the couch and a few architectural prints across her walls. It feels emptier than it ever has, and she cruelly imagines what it might be like if Percy came here. She really, really needs to stop thinking about him, but it feels impossible, because if she’s not thinking about him, she starts to think about Luke. And that’s worse.

She faceplants directly into the owl blanket with a groan and lays there, ignoring the wafting smell of her Korean BBQ takeout sitting on the countertop. This has been her life each day for the last week: different dishes but a very familiar static and face full of fluff, followed by dejectedly eating lukewarm food. And then she just gets mad at herself for being such a sad sack. She’s Annabeth fucking Chase. What the hell did Percy Jackson do to her?

Reyna checks in periodically. She sends minute updates, but not enough for Annabeth to start doing her own poking and prodding. Frank stops by a few times to make sure she’s eating, and she does welcome his company in an absent way. He brings some of the best takeout, but he knows all her favorites. He carries the conversation in directions that serve the best distractions.

“You should use this time to get out,” he says one day, dragging some naan through the rest of his curry. When Annabeth stares at him, he clarifies. “I mean, maybe think of it like a vacation? You never take a vacation. Do things you’ve always wanted to.”

She grumpily shoves her own naan into her mouth to avoid answering him. But maybe he has a point. Maybe she does need to leave the house more often, if only to refresh herself. To get back on her feet. It’s only a matter of time before they give her a new assignment, and she refuses to fall into distractions again next time.

She takes herself out. She ventures further than a ten block radius and tries a new Pho place she’s been wanting to check out. She looks up a current run of temporary exhibitions around the city, buys tickets for three of them. She makes a reservation for herself at one of the museum restaurants, uncaring that it’s definitely overpriced and she can get a burger down the block for half the cost. She is utterly determined to give herself a good, clean, solid break from her time with Percy, so she’s prepared for the next chapter. Whatever it brings.

Naturally, it’s at one of the exhibitions that she runs into Sally Jackson.

Annabeth isn’t sure she could have been caught more off guard by Luke. She turns the corner and nearly runs into the woman, but her instincts make her sidestep at the last second. She’s not fast enough to avoid eye contact, because Sally moves at the same time, an apology on her lips.

“I’m so sorry - Annabeth?”

Why is this her life? Annabeth freezes, and she can feel the guilt rain down on her like a tsunami. She’s very rarely caught off guard like this, but this warm, wonderful woman unnerves her in an unexpected way. She just assumed she would never see her again, another casualty of her break with Percy.

Despite it all, Sally offers her a small, tentative smile. “Hi,” she says, tone infused with that very same warmth Annabeth knows she doesn’t deserve.

She swallows. “Hi,” she replies, weakly.

Sally reaches out to give her arm a gentle squeeze, and Annabeth nearly combusts on the spot. But the older woman can sense her discomfort, because she pulls her hand away just as quickly and sighs. “Will you get a coffee with me?”

Every single part of her is telling her to say no; every rational, logical piece of her being knows this is a bad idea, but there’s a quiet desperation that wins out against her better judgment, and Annabeth nods mutely. Sally smiles again, then walks them both towards the museum cafe. She orders Annabeth’s coffee exactly the way she likes it and orders herself a chai latte. By the time they sit down at the table, Annabeth’s nerves are shot, so she just wraps her hands around the cup and takes a sip, burning her tongue immediately. She winces, and Sally offers her a napkin.

“Percy told me you broke up.”

Annabeth almost laughs, hollowly. There’s no way he would have told her anything - Percy might have been royally pissed at her, but he’s also not cruel, and she knows he wouldn’t jeopardize her by spilling all the beans to his mother. He also wouldn’t want to put his mom in danger. Instead, her shoulders sink, and all she can do is nod once.

“He didn’t really tell me why,” Sally continues, wringing her hands around her own cup. She gets a thoughtful wrinkle in her forehead that looks so much like her son Annabeth almost flinches. “He said it wasn’t his place to share your history, but he did tell me you lied about a lot.”

She doesn’t know if hearing that from Sally is worse than her whole exchange with Percy a month ago. She doesn’t say anything, but her lack of answer is its own confirmation.

“My son is everything to me,” she says, and Annabeth prepares to be reamed out. Why wouldn’t she be? She just broke this woman’s son’s heart, and they’re two of the kindest, best people she’s ever met. “And I have never seen him so miserable.”

It’s not yelling, but it might be worse for real this time. Which is why the next thing Sally says is the most surprising part of all.

“I think he misses you.”

Annabeth’s head whips up so fast, and she says the first thing since her awkward greeting, which isn’t much more articulate. “What?”

It’s Sally’s turn to be quiet, again looking thoughtful as she finally takes a sip of her own drink. “I’m only telling you this because I know he was happy with you. Happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. And I know what he’s like now. I’m not going to ask you what happened. I know you hurt him, deeply, and I know maybe it’s not my place to sit here with you and tell you all of this. I know maybe things have been damaged too greatly. I know it’s his life, not mine. But what I want to ask you anyway is if you want to fix it, and if you still love my son.”

Annabeth’s eyes well up. She can’t answer this one with a nod. It’s everything she’s been trying to push away, the impossibilities of Percy chasing her down more harshly than Luke in the alleyway. “I love him,” she admits, and saying it aloud to someone else nearly knocks the wind out of her. “But I don’t know if I can fix it. I really, really hurt him, and there are parts of it that feel too broken.”

She shouldn’t be sharing this with Percy Jackson’s mother, but there isn’t another person who’s spoken to her about Percy specifically like this. A person who prioritizes Percy the way he should be, no matter what her own stupid heart and head are doing. Frank worries about her, but she’s the one who needs to grovel, and Sally will always, always put her son first.

Sally takes another sip, watching her carefully over the brim. She’s never felt more scrutinized in her life, and she’s a goddamn spy. Annabeth’s been alone for a very long time, and those months with Percy and his friends and his family were the closest she felt like a real, normal person in a long time. But she isn’t normal. She can’t just slip into a real architect’s life and become a new Annabeth Chase.

“Are you willing to try?”

She’s taken aback by the question and the way it connects to her thoughts, and she’s sure the surprise is on her face. “I don’t think he wants me to. It should be his choice, not mine.”

Sally hums. “Will you give me your address?”

“He’s not going to come to my house.”

“It’s for me. Not him. I won’t give it to him.”

She hesitates. She’s unlisted for a reason, her residence deeply under wraps. She still gets mail, of course, and it’s not like she lives there most of the year. But then she stubbornly takes the receipt from the drinks, scribbles the P.O. box on the back before she can second guess herself, and slides it back over. “Can you memorize it and burn it?” she says teasingly, trying not to feel ashamed of joking about it.

Sally slides it into her pocket. “I’m giving you a chance now, because I love my son and I want his happiness more than anything else, but I can see you're in just as terrible a state as he is. I wanted to see for myself, after I realized it was you.” She lifts her drink again, and Annabeth’s not sure if the pause for dramatic effect is intentional or not. “This is not forgiveness. It’s not my place to give it. This is me having a conversation with you, because you’re a very smart, put together woman who has spent a significant amount of time with Percy.”

Annabeth doesn’t feel very put together at the moment, but she’s hardly going to interject.

“And above everything, Percy is my son.”

It’s not a threat, but it almost feels like one. In lieu of another response, Annabeth takes a cowardly sip of her coffee.

“Thank you, for having coffee with me,” Sally says, and it sounds like a goodbye. Like this might be the last thing they ever say to each other. They sit in silence for a few more minutes, finishing their drinks, and it’s Sally who leaves first. She climbs to her feet in a cool movement and adjusts her bag before giving Annabeth a nod, then walks away from the table.

Annabeth sits there for another thirty minutes, though what she spends it thinking about, she doesn’t really remember.

-

Three days later Annabeth receives a package in the mail, with Sally’s return address. She holds the box in her hands and doesn’t really know how to process it. She sets it on the kitchen island and stares at it, afraid of opening it for stupid reasons. Watching it out of the corner of her eye, she heats up a box of frozen mac and cheese, then reaches for a steak knife to slice open the packing tape as the microwave beeps.

Inside she finds a dozen chocolate chip cookies, wrapped up neatly in a transparent blue bag. Underneath them is an envelope, which she nervously lifts and carefully opens. There’s a note inside, and what looks like two tickets to - to an aquarium. Not just any aquarium, the one where she met Percy - or rather, where she orchestrated her meeting of Percy. Puzzled and sad all at once, she reads the note in Sally’s loopy writing.

Annabeth,

I bought these for you both a month ago. I’m giving them to you alone now as a final gift from me to you, and I hope you use them. Use the time to think about everything. Don’t try to return them.

Perhaps one day we’ll see each other again. Take care.

Sally

[sinsandsweetness]

Indulge (sex and zombies-chapter 6)

pairing- {Rick x fem!reader} and {Daryl x fem!reader} separately... for now. hehe

summary- It's just not the same.

warnings- 18+ content. MDNI!! , smut with multiple partners.

You woke up in your own bed. Realizing that Rick must have carried you back before morning. It wasn't a surprise to see him working in the field after he promised to spend the day with you. But it was still disappointing. 

You took the day off anyway. No one even noticed that you weren't outside working or tending to laundry. Well except Daryl. 

Daryl's attitude had changed over the few months on the road. He used to be so snarky all the time, in Atlanta and on the farm. Picking fights with you and teasing you mercilessly. But as of late something switched. He was starting to act all… sweet. Like he actually sort of wanted to be friends. Kind of. And you couldn't say you didn’t enjoy it. For the first while, when you were distracting yourself from a mentally unhinged Rick, the sex was amazing. Being with Daryl was the perfect form of escapism. 

Then when Rick finally moved in on you, it seemed like things with Daryl would eventually fall off. Except… for whatever reason, it never completely did.

“What are you doin?” He asked you as he approached the makeshift pantry that you’d been eyeing for way too long. 

“I’ve got the munchies,” you pouted. There really wasn’t much to eat. Rick had mentioned plans for a run happening at the end of the week. And that you’d all have to be diligent on portioning everything until then. 

“Come here,” 

Daryl grabbed your hand and walked you to his cell. His crossbow in pieces on the desk, like he was in the middle of cleaning it. He dug around his bag for a minute and pulled out a red plastic baggy. 

Twizzlers.

No fucking way. 

Your eyes widened and he couldn’t help but smirk. As you grabbed for them, he lifted the bag higher and out of reach. 

“It’s gonna cost you though,”

You raised your eyebrows. “Really?”

“Mhm. These weren't an easy find, you know.”

A moment of silence passed while you tried to read him.

“I'm sure we can come to some sort of a deal, don't you?” You gave him a coy look. Looking up at him and pushing your chest out, ever so subtly. 

He got the hint, glancing up and down your body quickly.

“As much as I would love that right now, I kinda had something else in mind,” 

“Like what?” you asked, genuinely curious as to what would ever make a man turn down the opportunity to get his dick wet. 

“Follow me.” 

And with that he brushed past you and started off towards another area of the prison. 

So you followed. You started off by going in the direction of the break room that Rick had made up for you. But Daryl took a turn halfway and led you down a hall to a supply closet. 

There were cleaning products filling the shelves. Brooms and rags and mops.

You raised your eyebrows again. 

“You want me to clean?”

“I was hoping you could paint.” He pointed at a cardboard box on the bottom shelf. You opened it up to find paint supplies. Brushes and rollers.

“Paint what?” you looked up at him.

“Little ass kicker’s room. I was thinking it would be a nice gesture. With Rick being all… you know. I just- I don’t know. Thought it’d be nice for her to have a real nursery. And I can't paint for shit so...”

Your smile gave you away. 

“What?”

“That’s really sweet Daryl.” 

He grunted. And grabbed the box, and led the way back to the main cells. Towards the one with the crib in it. 

He told you that you had ‘creative freedom’ with it. Not that you were extremely creative. But you tried your hardest. There was a surprising amount of paints and colours that were able to be mixed up and create a rather impressive, prison cell, nursery mural. At least in your opinion. 

Daryl sat on the bunk bed and handed you a piece of licorice every now and then. He talked about the traps he’d set up in the woods outside of the yard. And some other things he thought that Rick should prioritize around the prison. With your focus on the wall, he chatted away, despite his regularly quiet nature. It was refreshing to hear him talk with no real point of the conversation. Just out of boredom. 

“What do ya think?” you finally asked him, pointing your paint brush up at the paint covered cement.

He nodded.

“Looks good. Think Rick will like it?” 

“I think so… ” You turned back to the wall and inspected your artwork. Not bad for your first mural.

Rick would love it. Even if he didn't really like the art, he'd like it just because you painted it. 

The hands on your waist made you jump slightly. You turned your head back and Daryl immediately caught your lips with his own. Spinning yourself around, you dropped your brush on the ground, cold paint splattered onto your bare feet. But Daryl didn't notice or care and his hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you in.

A small part of you wanted to run. To tell him that you shouldn't. To go find Rick and beg him for another escape to the break room. You thought about his arms and his hands and his lips against your skin.

But for whatever reason you leaned into Daryl’s touch as he backed you both up against the bunk bed. Following his queues and climbing on top of him in between fast and messy kisses. When you felt his noticeable hard on grind up against you, a quiet moan escaped his mouth. You grabbed at his buckle, and pushed his jeans down just enough to allow you the access you needed. You pulled your panties to the side and sank down on him slowly. A gasp leaving your mouth as you did. He swore under his breath and started moving, bucking up into you. Your dress was bunched up above your ass. His hands pulled you down and created a rhythm that you both found gratifying. Your orgasm started to build and you realized that it would be quick. It was something you two had perfected all those nights that you were longing for a married man, when Daryl was the only one who could even attempt at filling the void. 

And when he came with your name on his lips you couldn't help but feel a little guilty when Rick’s almost escaped yours. 

Daryl always got the job done. He’d made you come more times than you could count. But there wasn't a void to be filled anymore. You had Rick now.

And Rick could just look at you right and have your legs buckling. Being with him always made your head feel cloudy and your skin feel hot. Time seemed to slow down at his touch.

It just wasn't the same. 

--------------------------

“You did this?” Rick held Judith in his arms and looked over at you, at the doorway of the cell. 

You nodded. “It was Daryl's idea really.” 

“I'll have to thank him.”

You approached him and admired the mural together. 

An orangey yellow sunset overlooked a field with a white house and a barn off to the side. Hershel’s farm. That's what you'd painted. Or tried to anyways. It wasn't gallery worthy by any means. But it was pretty, and it did resemble the farm.

“I think she’ll love it.” Rick put Judith down to sleep and then tugged you gently away from the room. 

In the isolated break room bed, Rick’s hand trailed up your bare skin, tickling your side and sending tingles down your spine. Your eyelids were already heavy. 

“I’m sorry I didn't spend the day with you,” he spoke softly, further adding to your relaxed state. 

“It's okay,” You tried to hide your disappointment. “You're a busy man. Lots of responsibilities. Things to take care of…”

He thought for a moment and nodded. He saw through you though.

“I’m sure I could have found a way to keep busy here though. Taking care of something else…” His fingers trailed back down and rested on your waist. You shuddered slightly. It was your turn to nod.

“So make it up to me.” you whispered and stared into his pretty blue eyes, looking over at you with an unmistakable desire.

“I will,” he grabbed your waist, pulling you on top of him so that his lips grazed yours. “I promise.” 

You leaned in and kissed him. Accepting his apology the best way you knew how. Your body melted into his as his hands grabbed at your skin and his mouth moved against your own. He took ahold of your hips, and ground you against his lap, earning a muted moan. 

Whatever it was that he had to make up for, you had forgotten by the time he was inside of you. He pulled your hips down to meet his thrusts and kissed his way up your neck, making sweet little marks that threatened to show in the morning. 

Maybe you were in a trance. Spellbound or something. It was the only reasonable explanation.  

He had you wrapped around his finger, and tangled in his bedsheets, and there was absolutely nothing that felt as good as that.

[cha-melodius]

A ship of your choice firstprince, please!

A location—(Although I dare someone to send the White House or Kensington, I WILL make it into an AU. I have ideas.) Also if you want a particular historical setting, you can feel free to include a time period too. GO NUTS, please.

Well sheesh, with that kind of tease, I suggest both the White House and Kensington Palace, circa the year 2068.

I look forward to seeing what you choose to do with this! I am certain to enjoy it, whatever it is ❤️

(This was such an intriguing prompt, and I hope you enjoy what I did with it. Also happiest of birthdays to @dumbpeachjuice, who's incredible fic "make me your god" inspired this one.)

The Impossible Soul

(M, 7.2k, read it below or on AO3)

“I shouldn’t let you do this for me,” Henry tells him in the moments before.

“You should know by now that you’re not letting me do anything, sweetheart,” Alex returns. “Anyway, I’m doing this for us.”

“Even though we still won’t be able to be together?”

“I told you, it’s only temporary. Once my mom’s no longer in office, I won’t be in the spotlight. But I can’t leave you trapped here for another four years. I won’t.” Alex cups Henry’s cheek with his hand and brushes a thumb against the corner of his perfect mouth. “Besides, what if I left you here and you forgot about me?”

Henry covers Alex’s hand with his, warm and soft. “Never.”

~~~~~

One Year Earlier

Alex didn’t think he could be surprised by AIDEs at this point, but the ones populating Kensington are really something else.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here,” Prince Henry says, his blue eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he shakes Alex’s hand.

Alex can’t help but stare. The eyes are the hardest part, or so Nora says. All the Secret Service agents’ eyes have a kind of strange metallic glint behind them. Often it’s not even noticeable, but if you look too closely, it becomes obvious. Prince Henry’s eyes are flawless, though. Just endless, perfect blue. Really, the only flaw Alex can see in this model is that they made him inhumanly beautiful. No real person has lips like that.

Henry’s hand is warm in his, his grip firm but not too tight. Alex forces himself to let go.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, looking around rather than staying trapped in Henry’s piercing gaze.

Palace servants flit about, attending to all of the gala guests’ needs along with those of the princes and princess. Apparently, it’s a perfect recreation of the palace’s operations from the turn of the century, back before the monarchy was abolished. Now they just keep fake royalty here, like they can’t quite let go of the idea. Alex has never understood it, and visiting hasn’t really helped. Of all the things he’s had to do on this goodwill trip, this is by far the strangest, pretending to hobnob with royalty at a fancy ball like anyone does this shit anymore. Then again, maybe showing off is the whole point, same as it ever was.

It’s not like Alex isn’t used to interacting with AIDEs. The use of Artificially Intelligent Dynamic Entities is still limited more broadly, but they’re common in dangerous or sensitive jobs. The entire Secret Service was replaced by them two administrations ago; their loyalty is never in question, nor their willingness to protect their charges at all costs. Use of AIDEs for entertainment purposes is growing in popularity too, like the Kensington ones. They play the role they’re programmed to without deviation, they don’t need to eat or sleep (though they usually do, to better mimic humanity), they can be abused or even killed without repercussion and, most importantly, they don’t need to be paid.

“I hope your visit to London has been pleasant?” Prince Henry asks with perfectly-tuned amiability. It makes Alex want to push a little, though he knows Nora would tell him it’s a futile exercise.

“Mostly I’ve been spending it in lots of meetings,” Alex says. “Kinda wish I had time to go out and see more of the city.”

“I can understand that,” Henry replies, glancing toward the doors in a way that Alex would call wistful if he didn’t know better.

Can he? Do they let them leave the palace? Probably not. Does Henry want to, though? That would be a weird thing to program into an AIDE that’s supposed to stay in one place.

“I guess you probably don’t get out much, huh?” Alex asks.

Henry smiles indulgently at his bad joke. “Not so much, no. Makes it ever-so-difficult to meet people, you know.”

Alex laughs despite himself. He’s never met an AIDE that was so self-aware. If he tries to joke with Cash about taking a day off, the agent just stares at Alex blankly. “You must talk with a lot of visitors to the palace, though.”

“I do,” Henry allows, taking a sip of his champagne. “Most of them aren’t very interesting, though. All they do is ask what it’s like to be a prince.”

“And? What’s it like?”

Henry smirks a little. “Bloody boring. Not that I can tell them that, you understand.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, a little lost for words. Henry is nothing like what he was expecting. “So, what do you want to talk about, then?”

In response, Henry takes a step closer. He smells like fancy cologne, like linens and fresh grass, and something inside him seems to tug Alex closer. “Can I show you something? Still inside the palace, of course.”

Alex’s eyes flick over to June and Nora, chatting with someone he doesn’t recognize—AIDE or government official, he can’t tell—and the Secret Service agents linger at the periphery of the ballroom. He knows shouldn’t leave the event, but honestly chances are no one would notice he was gone. Plus, his curiosity is through the roof.

Henry takes him to a library. There are barricades set up to keep the visiting public to certain areas, but Henry slips past them and Alex follows him. Watches as Henry walks down the rows with a small, private smile curving his lips, trailing a finger along the spines. He pauses and plucks a book off the shelf—Pride and Prejudice, Alex can just make out—and smooths a hand lovingly over the cover.

“I love to read,” Henry says, almost to himself. His eyes flick up to Alex’s, shining brightly in the low light. “All those worlds… They’re incredible, don’t you think?”

Alex doesn’t know what to say. AIDEs don’t read. They don’t dream of other worlds.

“The rest of your… family,” Alex says, diplomatically. “Are they like you? I mean, with the reading.”

Henry laughs quietly and shakes his head. “No. No one’s like me.”

Alex is rapidly coming to that same conclusion.

~~~~~

“There’s nothing special about the Kensington AIDEs,” Nora tells him, sounding more beleaguered than necessary. “We talked to Princess Beatrice for like an hour, it was the same as any other AIDE. Pleasant, but a little vacant. The eyes are a neat trick, though.”

“I’m telling you, Henry is different,” Alex insists. “We talked all night. He’s aware of what he is. He reads and he thinks and he feels. Fuck, Nora, he dreams when he sleeps.”

“AIDEs don’t sleep. Not really.”

“Henry does.”

“Someone just got a little creative with the programming,” Nora says dismissively. “He’s supposed to say those things to make him seem more real. If you went back, he probably wouldn’t even remember you.”

“And what if he did?”

“Alex—”

“What if he did remember me? What if all of it really is real?” Alex presses.

Nora frowns at him. “Then there are some major ethical implications that current AI laws are frankly not prepared to deal with,” she says bluntly. “Look, it’s just not possible. They don’t have feelings, period. He’s just a fancy computer.”

“Fine. Whatever you say,” Alex huffs, mostly because he doesn’t want to have this argument anymore. She’s not going to change his mind, and clearly he’s not going to change hers.

“Promise me you’ll leave this alone. We can’t afford some kind of diplomatic incident because you got a crush on the prince AIDE.”

Alex glares at her. It’s not a crush. “I’ll leave it.”

He absolutely will not.

~~~~~

Cash doesn’t blink—literally—when Alex tells him that he’ll be visiting Kensington Palace again rather than the scheduled afternoon tea with some MP he couldn’t care less about. He sends his apologies with an excuse that he’s not feeling well and heads to the main entrance with the rest of the tourists. He has no idea where Henry might be, but AIDEs don’t take days off, so it stands to reason that he’ll be somewhere acting princely, or whatever he does all day.

Unfortunately, he gets stuck on a tour led by an AIDE with a dirty blonde bob and green eyes who most definitely shows none of Henry’s spark. It’s boring as fuck, and he almost bails more than once, but this place is huge and he’d probably get lost forever before he found Henry. They go past a few rooms Alex recognizes, but there’s no sign of the ‘royal family’ anywhere, and Alex starts to worry. Maybe they only trot them out for big events. Maybe you have to buy a special tour package. Ugh, his mom is going to kill him if he ditches any more events.

“Next, we’ll visit the palace library,” the guide says, and Alex perks up.

This has got to be his chance. Henry had said they were basically allowed free run of the palace so long as they remained in areas where they’d run into visitors during operating hours, and Alex knows there’s nowhere Henry would rather be than the library. Sure enough, he’s reading in a massive armchair by one of the windows, though he gets up when the tour group enters and comes over to talk to them. His face is fixed in a pleasant, bland smile as he looks over the group, until his eyes land on Alex. The flash of recognition is clear, even if he recovers quickly, and Alex’s heart thuds a little harder in his chest.

He lingers toward the back as the rest of the visitors ask Henry about living in the palace and being a prince—exactly as he said they would. He answers graciously, of course, the words so bland and scripted that Alex almost wonders if maybe he hadn’t been drinking too much champagne during the gala. But he hangs back when everyone else files out, and as soon as Henry turns to him, his eyes practically light up.

“You came back,” Henry says, his voice soft with something like wonder.

“Of course I did,” Alex replies. “We didn’t finish our conversation.”

Henry ducks his head, blond hair falling alluringly over his forehead as his cheeks turn pink. The way their bodies mimic human physiology is astounding sometimes. “I suppose we didn’t. Would you care to walk with me in the gardens? It’s a lovely day.”

“Can we do that?”

“Ironically, you’re allowed so long as you have one of us with you, and I’m allowed so long as I’m with a guest,” Henry explains. “Plus, you’re a foreign dignitary. No one will bother us.”

“Sure you wanna be seen with me? My sister would say I’m the furthest thing from dignified,” Alex says, grinning probably a little too broadly.

Henry’s smile slants mischievous as he steps close enough for Alex to get a noseful of linen and fresh grass again. “Maybe I like that about you.”

~~~~

“Have you ever been outside the palace?” Alex asks on his next visit. Nora had given him a look like she knew exactly what he’s been up to when he’d begged off from an official tour of the British Museum, even though he hasn’t brought up Henry again. The fact that she’d found him down a rabbit hole of academic papers about AIDE psychology probably hadn’t helped anything.

“Not that I remember,” Henry answers. It’s rainy today, so they’re ensconced in some kind of parlor with ornate, uncomfortable furniture. The fact that Henry only knows this life is outrageous. Has he ever truly been comfortable? Does anyone even care? “They gave me a basic knowledge of London as a background. I’m supposed to be fond of the Victoria & Albert Museum, but I’ve never seen it myself.”

“That’s fucked up,” Alex blurts.

Henry shrugs. “It’s just how it is.”

“How does none of this ever seem to bother you?”

“It can’t bother me, Alex. My entire existence has been—and will be—only this, and if I allowed any of it to bother me, I’d go mad.”

This does not, in fact, make Alex feel any better about the situation. “Guess I’ll just have to be angry for the both of us, then.”

“I’d rather you weren’t,” Henry says mildly. “It’s no use being upset about my life. Nothing can be changed.”

“Bad idea to tell me something can’t be changed, sweetheart. I fucking love a challenge,” Alex returns. He’s not joking, but Henry laughs anyway. “I’m serious, Henry. You deserve to get things you want, too.”

“What if I said I wanted you not to worry about it? That I want you to be happy?”

“Because you’re programmed to?” Alex counters, letting more bitterness than he means to slip into his voice.

Henry reaches out and slides a hand over Alex’s fist where it’s curled on his thigh. “Because I like you, Alex.”

~~~~

On the last visit he can manage before he leaves London, Alex brings Henry a cell phone.

“What’s this for?” Henry asks when Alex hands it to him. It’s a cheap smartphone, pay as you go, something that Alex can renew the data and minutes on remotely.

Alex frowns at him. He would have figured Henry would be familiar with the concept of phones, but maybe they purposefully programmed him to not recognize it. “It’s for communication. Audio, text, video—”

“I know what a phone is, Alex,” Henry says wryly, interrupting him before Alex can make a fool of himself. “I mean why are you giving it to me?”

“I’d like to keep talking to you after I go home,” Alex tells him, feeling oddly exposed by the question. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

Henry smiles, almost bashfully. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“I assume you’re not allowed to have that,” Alex says with a nod at the phone.

“I don’t think anyone would consider it a possibility that we might,” Henry muses, “but I’ll keep it hidden nonetheless.”

“Good plan.”

“I’m going to miss your visits, Alex,” Henry says earnestly. “I’ll miss you.”

AIDEs can’t miss things, Alex’s brain supplies, an oft-repeated truism. He feels vaguely sick, leaving Henry here like this.

“Yeah,” Alex croaks, unable to quite meet Henry’s bright blue eyes. “I’ll miss you too.”

~~~~~

“How would you get a site-locked AIDE off the premises?” Alex casually asks Nora one late night at the Residence, when they’re deep in the weeds of polls and projections.

The campaign has been rough; rougher than the first one. Or maybe it’s just that Alex is far more involved in the filthy underbelly of it this time around. The experience has definitely made him question his resolve to go into politics. Then again, sometimes it feels like his only option to make a difference in the way he wants to. These days he frequently gets into arguments about the need for more protections for AIDEs, though right now it feels like a losing battle. They’re not supposed to need protections, that’s the point of them, and no one believes him when he suggests that they might have more in common with humans than previously believed.

It’s been months. Months of texting, and phone calls, and occasional video chats. Months of getting to know Henry—the real him, beyond his programmed backstory. For his part, Henry has seemingly blossomed further with access to the internet. Alex was admittedly not certain that was a great idea, but Henry seems to stay off the darker parts. He watches a lot of Bake Off, apparently. He’s obsessed with some cute beagle account on Instagram. He reads travel blogs and insists that just knowing that these wonderful places exist is enough for him.

Alex doesn’t believe him. Well, he believes Henry believes that, but that doesn’t stop Alex from yearning to show Henry some of them in person. Even something in London would be worth it. Hence, the question.

Nora looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s on about. He’s kept his correspondence with Henry a secret from everyone, but he’s pretty sure she suspects something is up. Him broaching this topic all but confirms that, but he needs the help.

“Permanently, or short-term?” she asks.

“Let’s go with short-term to start.”

Another capital-L Look. “Well,” she says eventually, “I would probably hack into the control system and override the barrier protocols. These systems are self-healing, though. You’d have a couple of hours at most.”

“And what happens if the AIDE was off-site when the system kicked back on?” Alex asks.

“Depends on the program. Possibly just an alarm or something. Most of the time it’s full deactivation though.”

“They kill them?”

“AIDEs aren’t alive, Alejandro,” Nora says pointedly. Alex bites his tongue. “But yes, in a manner of speaking.”

“Fuck,” Alex breathes, wiping his hands over his face. “And to permanently get him out?”

It’s a slip. He’s not dumb enough to think she missed it, though she doesn’t show it.

“Not entirely sure,” she admits. “I’d need one of the tablets they use to control them so I could go into the AIDE’s code. And good luck with that; the companies that make them have some of the tightest security out there.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She turns back to her laptop, and Alex half-expects the conversation is done, at least for now. But then, as she’s typing, she says, “I assume this isn’t idle curiosity.”

Alex sighs. “No.”

~~~~~

It takes nine months from their first meeting for Alex to find a reason to visit London. His mother offhandedly mentions sending someone to some conference he doesn’t really care about, and he jumps at the chance. All he can think about is Henry. Being in the same city as him again. Seeing him. Touching him.

Alex has had time to come to terms with his desire for Henry. Honestly, the bisexuality was easy compared to the AIDE aspect of it. Nora is fond of pointing out that they’re literally designed to be desirable, even the ones not populating what basically pass for sexy amusement parks, but Alex doesn’t just want Henry physically. He wants to spend time with him, to make him laugh and see the crinkle of his eyes not through a phone screen.

Frankly, he also wouldn’t mind a little clarity on the whole situation. To either get incontrovertible proof that Henry is fundamentally the same as a person, or else be reminded that he isn’t, that Alex has deluded himself into believing Henry was more than a machine (a possibility that Nora regularly reminds him of).

On the flight over, Alex finds himself watching Cash, not for the first time. He’s doing a sudoku puzzle, which can’t really be much of a challenge for him. Still, he works on them religiously. Did someone program that into him? Or does Cash actually enjoy doing them?

“Do you like your job, Cash?” Alex asks.

Cash looks up at him, setting his ballpoint pen down—he does the puzzles in pen because he never makes a mistake. He’s got an expression on like he doesn’t really understand Alex’s question, even though it should be straightforward. “It’s my job,” he finally says.

“Yeah, but do you like it?” Alex pushes. “Do you find it fulfilling?”

The tip of his head means Cash is analyzing Alex’s body language. After another moment, he says, “Yes.”

Alex can’t quite hold back a sigh. The answer is predictable. Cash is only saying that because he thinks Alex wants to hear it. That’s what AIDEs do, they anticipate your needs and wants.

“Is that not the right answer?” Cash asks, frowning.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex says.

He knows Cash won’t.

~~~~~

Henry is understandably nervous about the plan. It is, after all, his life on the line.

“The control system will go down at the very end of the visiting day, so we can slip out with the exiting crowds,” Alex tells him. “It’s gonna look like maintenance, which shouldn’t set off any red flags right away. Between that and the roadblocks Nora’s set up, we should have five hours.”

“For what?” Henry asks.

Alex just grins. “It’s a surprise, sweetheart.”

Henry looks even more human in Alex’s Longhorns baseball cap and hoodie. Soft. Dangerously so. It makes Alex want to do reckless things. Instead, he sets his watch for four and a half hours and reminds himself how high the stakes are. He’s arranged everything just so tonight. No surprises.

The escape goes off without a hitch, and Alex breathes a sigh of relief once they’re making their way through the crowded city streets. Out here, the two of them are completely unremarkable, even with Cash trailing a few steps behind them. Henry seems to take it all in stride, though Alex doesn’t miss the quiet looks of awe that steal over his face as he takes in the city. They stop and get falafel at a food truck. Henry asks to pet every dog they come across. He looks indescribably happy in a way that makes Alex’s heart clench in his chest.

At the back entrance to the museum, Alex pays off the night guard—not an AIDE, thank god, they’re nearly impossible to bribe—and they slip inside, leaving Cash by the door. It doesn’t take long for Henry to catch on.

“You brought me to the V&A,” Henry breathes as he looks around.

It had seemed like the obvious choice, after what Henry had told him. “I’ve never actually been here,” Alex admits.

“That’s all right, love,” Henry says, grinning now. “I know my way around.”

Alex has never been so enraptured by someone telling him about art, but it’s impossible not to be taken in by the passion with which Henry speaks about the sculptures. He tells Alex about Tipu’s Tiger, about Giambologna, about Narcissus and Zephyr and Pluto rendered exquisitely in marble. His programming hadn’t bothered to give him anything more than a general interest; all of Henry’s knowledge comes from reading in the palace library—and now on the phone Alex gave him—and he’s apparently done a lot of it. His programming also has nothing to do with the wonder and emotion in his voice, with the tears that glitter in his eyes when he gets overwhelmed by the experience.

Machines don’t cry over art. They just don’t. Art is supposed to be a fundamentally human experience, which is proof enough to Alex that, whatever he was designed as, Henry is just as human as Alex is now.

~~~~~

In the Santa Chiara chapel, Henry finally pauses and turns his awe on Alex.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmurs, closing the space between them until only inches remain. Alex has to tip his head up to meet Henry’s bright gaze, and his heart thuds hard in his chest. “You risked so much to give this moment to me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You deserve it,” Alex tells him, meaning every word of it. “You deserve the entire world.”

“Alex,” Henry breathes.

Alex doesn’t think; he leans up and presses their lips together, a fleeting thing, over before he can convince himself it was a mistake. Except it was, because now he knows the softness of Henry’s lips against his, and he’ll never be satisfied with anything else. Henry’s eyes are wide when he pulls back, his lips slightly parted, and all at once Alex curses his impulsivity. What if Henry thinks that’s what he wants in return, that he owes Alex part of himself for this, when the last thing Alex wants is to take advantage of his programmed desire to please?

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

But Henry presses a hand against his face and pulls him in again, slides their lips together with intention, leaves Alex breathless when he pulls away again.

“You don’t have to do that,” Alex breathes into the silence afterward. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I want to,” Henry says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I want you, Alex.”

“You’re not just saying that because you think I want you to?”

Henry laughs a little, shaking his head. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he confesses. “I can assure you, that wasn’t programmed. And neither is this.”

This time, when Henry kisses him, Alex can’t help but smile into it.

~~~~~

They go off-plan. There are two hours left when Alex takes Henry back to his hotel room and presses him back into the bed. Peels away their clothes and kisses across warm skin that feels no different from his own under his lips. Henry gasps and twitches under him as Alex takes him in hand; for an AIDE that was only supposed to staff a museum, whoever designed him really went all out on the anatomy.

“Have you ever done this?” Alex murmurs into the crease of his hip, breathing in the scent of him. Linen and fresh grass and something else, musky and heady.

Henry shakes his head, and relief floods through Alex. It isn’t some virginity kink, ok? He’s just heard stories of how some people treat AIDEs no matter what their jobs are, like they’re free for the taking because they never say no, and he’s glad Henry’s never been in that situation.

“And you’re sure you want to with me?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Henry nearly growls. He drags Alex up from between his legs and kisses him hard, then rolls them over so he’s on top, straddling Alex’s waist. Slides back until Alex’s cock is pressing into the cleft of his ass and rocks his hips in a way that makes them both moan. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Alex is pretty sure he sees God when Henry lowers himself onto his cock, sitting upright with one hand behind him gripping Alex’s thigh and the other splayed over Alex’s chest. Or maybe it’s just that Henry looks like a god, like one of the mythical marble sculptures in the V&A, muscles rippling beneath his skin, but warm and yielding and vibrant and alive.

You’re unreal, Alex almost says, but that’s not quite it. Henry like this is very, very real. Impossible might be a better word.

Henry is impossible, and Alex is impossibly in love with him.

~~~~~

“Do you think you could steal one of the tablets they use to access your code?” Alex asks as they lie together in the darkness. His ear is pressed to Henry’s chest, listening to the steady thud of his circulatory pump—not quite a heart, but not not one either.

Henry’s hand cards through his hair, idly twirling Alex’s curls around his fingers. “What are you planning, love?”

Alex tips his face up to look at him. “Can you?”

“I doubt I can,” Henry answers after a pause, “but the technician responsible for us… he may be willing to help.”

“And you trust him?”

“He’s protected me before. I think he knows about my… differences.”

Alex hums. “How do we contact him?”

~~~~~

What Shaan Srivastava is not willing to do is speak over any sort of electronic form of communication, which Alex honestly takes as a good sign. They meet in a cafe on the other side of London, the day before Alex is set to leave.

“I want to get him out,” Alex tells him plainly. “For good.”

“Mountchristen Technologies puts numerous failsafes into the AIDEs they build,” Shaan tells him. “Trackers. Latent viruses. Kill switches.”

“Can they be disabled?”

Shaan takes a sip of his tea. “I have an idea, but I have no way of implementing it. I’m just responsible for keeping them in good working order. I’m not a coder.”

The hope that flares up in Alex’s chest is dangerous but oh-so-seductive. “I think I know someone who could help with that.”

~~~~~

“This is insane,” Nora tells him. “You honestly think it’s a good idea to pull off some kind of heist from the world’s biggest tech company a month before the election?”

“No,” Alex says reasonably. “That’s why we’re waiting until after. I convinced mom to let me take a trip to London between New Years and the inauguration.”

Nora shakes her head, every movement like a knife in Alex’s gut. “I can’t do this. I won’t. I never should have helped you on that little excursion in the first place, but this is a whole ‘nother level. We could both go to jail for who knows how long. And for what? Because you fucked an AIDE and now you want him for yourself?”

“Fuck you,” Alex nearly shouts. “I love him, asshole! I can’t let him stay a— a slave in that fucking palace.”

“He’s a machine! That’s what he was designed for, Alex!”

“Maybe he was, but that doesn’t mean that’s what he is now,” Alex insists. He holds out the tablet that she has yet to take from him. “Just look at his code. Even I can tell it isn’t like anything else out there.”

Finally, she snatches the tablet from him and jabs at it a few times. Her frown gets deeper. “There’s something wrong with this tablet,” she says eventually. “It’s not displaying things properly.”

“It is.”

“It can’t be, this level of complexity is impossible—”

“He’s writing his own fucking code, Nora,” Alex interrupts. Shaan had explained his theory on Henry’s code as best he was able before Alex left London. “With every one of the choices he was never supposed to be able to make. That’s why it looks like that.”

Heavy silence stretches between them as Nora stares at the tablet, occasionally swiping around and tapping. She chews on her lip. “It shouldn’t be possible,” she mutters, half to herself.

“But it is. He is. Please, Nora,” Alex pleads, not caring how desperate he sounds. “I’ll do anything.”

“Yeah, well. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

~~~~~

“You need to understand that the changes to his code means that accessing the safeguards is much more difficult.”

“Ok.”

“And I can’t guarantee that this will work. We can’t test it out. Once we shut him down, there’s no way to know exactly what will happen when we boot him back up again. He might come back the same as he is now, but he also might undergo some kind of reset. Even if he retains his free will, he might not remember his life before. He might not remember you.”

Alex swallows hard. “I understand.”

“Does he?”

~~~~~

It takes Alex a month to work up the nerve to broach the topic with Henry. On video call not long after the election, he explains Nora’s plan, how they need to do a full shutdown so she can extract the safeguards like a surgeon. He makes himself explain the risks even though his first impulse is to downplay them. Henry deserves to know, deserves to make the decision for himself. Alex would be a huge fucking hypocrite to take that away from him.

That doesn’t mean he’s required to like Henry’s reaction, though.

“It’s too much risk,” Henry says, a stubborn look on his face that Alex is very familiar with by now. “Things are fine now.”

“They’re really not,” Alex argues. “You’re no better than a prisoner there, Henry. Your freedom is worth the risk.”

“It’s not.”

“Of course it fucking is!” Alex snaps, rapidly becoming frustrated by this argument.

“Not when it could mean losing you!” Henry bites out. He presses his lips together and looks away from the camera, but Alex can see the tears shining in his eyes. “My memories of you—of the museum, of us,” he says eventually, his voice unsteady, “are the only things I have that are truly mine. And you tell me I could lose them… I can’t do it. I’d rather stay here forever.”

“Don’t you understand?” Alex pleads. He wants to reach through the screen and grab him, turn his face and make Henry look at him. “I’m trying to give you the world, baby.”

“I don’t want the world,” Henry says miserably. “Please, Alex. It’s better this way. You may think this is worth it now, but one day you’ll change your mind when you realize that having a secret AIDE lover isn’t exactly compatible with a political career. You’ll want to be with a real person. Someone whose affection you can be certain isn’t just programming. Just… leave me here with my memories.”

Then Henry hangs up on him.

~~~~~

Henry doesn’t answer his calls or reply to his texts, and Alex couldn’t be more miserable. He doesn’t eat and sleeps only fitfully, which confuses his family. Everyone’s still riding a high from winning the election. They think Alex is seriously ill and try to bring in a doctor, but nothing’s physically wrong with him. He can’t tell them he’s suffering from a broken heart like some pining Victorian maiden.

On the fifth day, Nora comes storming into his bedroom in the White House and throws a duffle bag at his chest.

“Pack your shit, we’re going to London,” she says bluntly. “Also take a shower. You reek.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s Henry.” She waves the tablet in the air, which is still linked to Henry’s code in real time. “Someone’s trying to make changes to his code.”

Alex flops back down onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. “It’s probably just him deciding he’s done with me.”

“God, you’re pathetic,” she huffs, now rummaging through his dresser. “It’s not him. Looks like someone else is poking around, and that can’t be a good thing.”

That’s enough to make him rocket straight out of bed, an icy spike of dread shooting down his spine. “Have you gotten in contact with Shaan?”

Nora shakes her head. “No. He’s radio silent.”

“Fuck.”

“I booked us tickets with your credit card on a flight that leaves in two hours, so hurry the fuck up.”

“Nora, is he—” Alex starts before his voice clips off as his throat closes. He forces out, “Can you tell… is he ok?”

Her expression softens, and she puts a hand on his forearm and squeezes. “For now.”

~~~~~

The good thing about Kensington being a museum is that no one can stop him from just buying a ticket and going in. He’s been here enough times to know his way to the library, at least, which is where he goes first, barely aware that Nora’s following hot on his heels. All he can think about is Henry.

Henry’s not in the library, though, nor in any of the surrounding rooms. Alex stops a palace attendant and asks for directions to Prince Henry’s apartments, which she helpfully provides. It’s a part of the palace that’s not on any tours, but that doesn’t seem to matter. A palace attendant’s directive to be helpful to humans is off the charts, even for an AIDE.

Somehow he’s not expecting Shaan to answer the door when he knocks. Alex immediately shoulders his way into the room, anger and fear an unholy cocktail in his veins.

“Where is he? What going on here?” he demands, frantically looking around. “Henry, baby, where are you?”

“Mr. Claremont-Diaz—”

“Henry!” There’s no answer, and Alex rounds on Shaan again. “Are you doing this to him?”

Shaan sighs, and it forces Alex to look closer, to take in the bags under his eyes and the grim set to his face. “I told you, I’m not a coder, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. I have, however, been doing my best to slow their progress.”

“What’s happening?” Alex demands.

“Someone higher in the company noticed Henry’s unusual code. I’m not sure how. A standard review of the AIDEs in the palace, I suppose. Or your trip out of Kensington was less secret than you hoped.”

Fuck. None of that is good. Alex scrubs a hand over his face, forces himself to take steady breaths and not descend into a panic attack. “Ok, ok. Is he all right?”

“Alex?”

Alex’s head whips around so fast he nearly strains his neck. Henry’s standing in the doorway, dressed in his usual slacks and button-down with a blue v-neck sweater over it. He looks… normal, and Alex nearly sobs in relief.

“Baby,” he breathes, practically throwing himself across the room and into Henry’s arms. He buries his face in Henry’s neck and breathes deeply, and the barbed wire wrapped tightly around his heart loosens a little.

“What are you doing here?” Henry asks, his strong arms wrapping automatically around Alex’s body.

Alex yanks his head back and looks askance at Shaan. “Does he not know?” He stares up at Henry. “Your code is under attack.”

“Ah, yes,” Henry says carefully. “It’s not the first time.”

“This has happened to you before?” Nora asks, and Henry looks at her in shock, like he hadn’t realized she was in the room.

“You must be Nora,” he surmises. “Yes, it has. I might have thought you’d have noticed the effects in my code.”

A look of understanding dawns over Nora’s face, and she nods. “They’re like scars. Fuck. How many times?”

“It’s not important,” Henry says in a way that suggests he’s been doing this for a long time. “The main point is that I can handle them.”

“Fuck that,” Alex spits out. “I’m not letting them scar you anymore.”

Henry closes his eyes and sighs wearily as he extracts himself from Alex’s grip. “Alex, love, you shouldn’t be here—”

“No, you listen, asshole,” Alex snaps, his terror giving way to fury. “You can’t fucking hang up on me this time.”

“I told you my decision, Alex—”

“And what about what I want? Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Fine,” Henry says shortly, his own temper flaring. “You know as well as I that we can’t be together as long as your mother’s in office and the public’s eyes are on you. So if you still want me in four years, come back and we’ll talk then. You know where I’ll be.”

He says it with a humorless slant to his lips that’s probably supposed to pass as a wry grin, like it’s a joke. Alex wants to fucking scream.

“And let them keep on trying to chip away at what makes you you? Take the chance that they’ll just get rid of you?” he retorts instead. “Fat fucking chance! I’m not leaving the man I love in captivity for four fucking years!”

It takes Henry’s eyes going wide and his mouth falling open for Alex to realize what he’s said. “Alex, you can’t—”

“What, love you? Because I do,” Alex says defiantly. “And I think you love me too.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you AIDEs can’t love?” Henry says, his voice wavering as he stares at the floor.

Alex steps close, forcing Henry to look up at him, until their noses are almost brushing. “Yeah, well, I know better,” he says, low and heated. “I also know I’m not gonna want anyone else, ‘real person’ or not. You’re a real person to me, Henry, and that’s what matters.” He raises a hand to Henry’s cheek and swipes his thumb through the tear track streaking it. “You’re it for me, sweetheart. I’m never gonna love anyone like I love you, and no one can take that away. Plus,” he adds, for the first time letting a corner of his mouth tug upward, “you know how annoyingly persistent I am. If you forget me, I’ll just make you fall in love with me all over again.”

Henry lets out a wet laugh and covers Alex’s hand with his. “It won’t take long.”

~~~~~

Seeing Henry shut down is wrong. He doesn’t even look dead, he just looks… not there. There’s no light in his eyes. Alex hates it. Can’t make himself watch as Nora works furiously.

It takes longer than he expected, but eventually she takes a deep breath and mutters, “Here goes nothing,” then taps a big green button on the tablet.

Henry’s eyelashes flutter as he wakes up. He looks around the room, eyes landing in turn on Shaan, Nora, and Alex. He holds Alex’s gaze and Alex stares back as if he could make Henry remember him through sheer force of will.

“Hello,” Henry says pleasantly. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

~~~~~

Five Years Later

Alex stands at the end of the long driveway that leads to a small bungalow by the sea on a tiny island in the middle of the Caribbean. He’s got a bouquet of flowers clutched in one hand, which feels silly now. Maybe this was a mistake.

He’s kept tabs on Henry and his life after leaving Kensington. From what he can tell, Henry seems happy. He visits the markets and restaurants, knows the locals, and spends lots of time writing. He’s never taken a lover, but Alex doesn’t let himself believe that’s because of him.

It seemed easier, if they were going to have to be apart, to not fill Henry in on their history at first. At least one of them could weather the years without heartache. Alex threw himself into law school, letting nothing distract him. Graduated at the top of his class, got the job of his dreams working for a firm specializing in civil rights litigation, one of the few considering cases related to AIDE protections. He lives a pretty quiet life. No one really cares about what the former FSOTUS is up to these days. And now he’s here, half a decade later, with little more than hope.

Hope, and a wilting bouquet of flowers.

In his darker moments, he’s wondered if it wouldn’t be kinder to Henry to leave him be. Let him live his life. After all, Alex will get old and die, and Henry… won’t. No one really knows how AIDEs might break down over time—their organic-based bodies must, eventually—but their lifespans will surely be much longer than a human’s. In that context, coming back and hoping Henry will fall in love with him again seems nothing but selfish.

Still, he made a promise, and he owes it to Henry to tell him, if nothing else. Maybe Henry will decide that he’s happy as he is, that he doesn’t want the eventual heartache. He owes it to Henry to let him choose.

The gravel of Henry’s driveway crunches loudly under his shoes as he walks toward the bungalow, announcing his arrival as well as any doorbell. When he gets closer, he catches sight of Henry sitting on the porch that faces the beach, a notebook on his lap and a drink on the table next to him. They’d dyed his hair brown after fleeing Kensington, and brown it has remained. He’s still as pale as ever, though; AIDEs don’t tan or get sunburned.

He doesn’t turn at the sound of Alex’s approach, just stares fixedly out at the ocean until Alex stops at the bottom of the two steps that lead up to the porch. Alex’s heart is in his throat when Henry finally gets up and walks to the top of the steps. The smile on his face is warm, fond. Nothing like what he’d left Alex with when they’d parted.

It shouldn’t be possible… but then again, Henry is the very embodiment of the impossible.

He holds out his hand, and Alex climbs up to take it, letting Henry pull him in.

“Hello, love,” Henry says, raising a warm hand to his cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you.”