#it’s no wonder he felt like his love by comparison was selfish

[questerine]

ALNST THOUGHT BEFORE I GO TO CLASS

isn’t it so interesting how ivan — who’s behaviors are one of the most incomprehensible to the other characters in alien stage — felt love that was most human?

he calls his emotions shallow. he acts selfishly to vie for till’s affection. he even died because he couldn’t bare seeing till die without a fight.

mizi, sua, and till were worshipping gods. but ivan was worshipping another human.

a flawed, selfish human.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Omg I love your benjicot Blackwood fics can you do a x betrothed reader soft fluff please

There wasn’t many things in life that had brought you happiness, not since you became of an age where it was deemed necessary by your father to start looking for suitable suitors, for you were quick to catch on that life wasn’t fair especially towards the good and honest people of the realm.

They often died too soon, leaving for the rest of the realm to be poisoned and left in ruin by the selfish agendas of the richer and more powerful great houses.

So when you were made aware of your fathers plans, not bothering to ask for your permission in the matter, your initial response was to scream at the old fool of the unfairness of it all but instead you chose to ran for the Weirwoods as though that was going to change anything.

That day whilst terrible as it was, was also the day that you met Benjicot Blackwood or Benji as you liked to call him nowadays.

‘What’s wrong.’ He had asked, kneeling in front of you with a worried look.

‘I’m to be engaged.’ You told the boy with the short dark hair and stormy kind eyes.

‘Do you know to whom?’ He said as he tried his best to figure out what he could do to help, he wasn’t use to this whole comfort thing, but he was more then willing to try and to get use to comforting others for similar circumstances in the future.

You shrug, keeping your eyes downcast so that he wouldn’t see your tear stained face. ‘It is undecided for now but I know in my bones that it’ll be to a gluttonous lord of some unknown house with shady origins.’

‘Why not get engaged to me then?’ Benjicot then said out of the blue.

‘What?’ You looked up at him, unsure you had heard him right the first time.

‘Get engaged to me and you’ll never have to worry about being some shifty lords bed warmer.’ Ben said in a nonchalant mannor, which was soon betrayed by the cherry red blossoming upon his cheeks. ‘We don’t have to be in love it’s just-‘ he was abruptly cut off when you flung yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly as you whispered a million thanks into his shoulder, all the while Benjicot was stiff and awkward as a board before he finally relaxed and rubbed your back.

‘It’s fine, no need to thank me.’ He utters as later that same afternoon the news of your betrothal to Lord Benjicot Blackwood had been finalised, bring about the end before it had even began, and needless to say for the first time you had felt a twinge of happiness for your future.

Now as you stood beneath the very same Weirwood tree you did that fateful day, you sat beneath it with a smile upon your face and peace within your heart. You didn’t think you’d fall in love with Benjicot during your betrothal but you did and you did hard, the man was nothing short of perfect in every way shape and form, you didn’t expect yourself to fall in love with his dark hair, his stormy but kind eyes nor his chapped but kissable lips that withheld the most heavenly laughter you’ve ever heard.

He has made your heart full of happiness and joy that you didn’t know existed in Westeros, he treated you with such kindness, respect and loyalty that you couldn’t help but wonder if you were one of the lucky few to have such a devoted man such as Benjicot. You never wanted to know a reality where you weren’t betrothed to him for every man would fail in comparison, regardless of whether they came from a greater house, for all you ever wanted was a man who was undyingly faithful and wouldn’t dare let his eyes wander and you found that man in Benjicot Blackwood; and ever since then you have been falling for him every single second of every single day.

You had found your soulmate that day without even knowing it as you chuckled to yourself just as a body sat closely beside you, but instead of moving away from it you leaned into it, already familiar with the bodily warmth of your dearly beloved Benji as he pressed a sweet to to the top of your head.

‘You’re smiling today my beloved, is there reason to that or is it just me.’ He joked as you playfully scoffed.

‘I’m merely reminiscing the time we first met, right here beneath the Weirwood tree.’ You told him as you craned your head to look up at the leaves that hung above you both.

‘Still glad you’re not married off to some gluttonous lord from an unknown house with shady origins?’ Benjicot asked as he too looked up at the ruby leaves of the Weirwood, not wanting to admit that after all this time you still managed to make him nervous but in the best ways possible. Your smile widened at your own words being thrown back at you as you looked over at Benjicot and admired his side profile with adoring eyes.

‘I am because my betrothed is the sweetest man the realm has ever seen.’ You told him as you kissed his cheek softly before resting your head on his shoulder. ‘You saved me that day Benji and I am forever grateful.’

‘What did I tell you way back then? It’s nothing that you should thank me for.’ Benjicot said as he looked at you with a soft expression. ‘I’m just glad that I could offer you an alternative solution.’

You looked at him as found yourself smiling as he rested his forehead against your own, closing his eyes as he relaxed again you. ‘You also once told me that we didn’t have to fall in love during our betrothal too.’ You replied as you heard him chuckle lowly, brushing his nose over yours. ‘We did a pretty shit job of that didn’t we?’ Benjicot asked as you giggled and the young lord swore he could hear the heavens sing, for he had fallen first but saw later on that you had fallen just as hard for him in return, which he thought was solely because he had gotten you out of a predicament you didn’t want to be in.

You would later prove to him that that wasn’t the case at all and that you feelings for him were genuine and true as your heart that beats solely for him.

‘One could assume so, yes.’ You replied, kissing him on the forehead before letting your heads rest against one another once more. ‘But I don’t regret a single thing, word or moment that we have shared since for I love you far too much to depart from your side.’ You added as you moved yourself as close to him as you could, wanting nothing more then to be in his arms and listen to the sounds of his strong heart against your ear.

Benjicot didn’t put up a fight as he was quick to bring you into his strong embrace, holding you against his chest as he back remained supported by the trunk of the Weirwood tree, your head pressed to his heart as it sang its song just for you. ‘I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you cry under this very Weirwood.’ Benjicot admitted. ‘I looked at you and thought how beautiful you looked even when you were crying, which hurt my heart to witness. I want you happy and in that moment I wanted to be the reason you were happy and since then I have only fallen further each and every day, aching to one day call you what I’ve always wanted to call you.’

‘And what’s that.’ You murmured against his chest, his warmth providing you too much comfort that you were on the periapsis of falling asleep.

‘Lady Blackwood.’ Benjicot said as he pressed a kiss to your head, finding the same level of comfort you had as he too was fighting his hardest to keep his eyes open to gaze upon you longer, but alas his eyes were already closed and he smile widened as he thanked the gods for weaving your strand of fate with his own that fateful day under the Weirwood tree.

[killerlookz]

Growing Pains | Spencer Reid

pairing: s2!spencer reid x gn! reader

description: after spending what felt like an eternity pining over Spencer Reid, the two of you finally began moving towards becoming something... until his run-in with Tobias Hankel seemed to put a stop to every aspect of Spencer's life, even his relationship with you.

details: Spencer's post-revelations related trauma, angst! and fluff (hurt with comfort), sporadic flashbacks

word count: 2,321

i hate that i can't love you, but I'm just in the way / but you say i won't be here forever, and you'll take as long as it takes

Your cold hands ached as they struggled to make a fist, raising that balled-up hand to the dark, wooded door.

Every day for the last week and a half you'd come to this very door, that of your friend, Spencer Reid. And every day for the last week and a half you would knock on the door and hope with anxious breaths for an answer. Only to receive no response.

Part of you would worry he was dead if it wasn't for the fact that at the very least he had managed to at least call out of work each and every day. It was so typical of Spencer ,it almost made you smile. Even after all of the trauma he had just gone through, he still made sure to call out of work. No one expected to see him back at the BAU for a while. Not after Tobias Hankel.

Despite all too much of it having been live-streamed directly to you and the rest of the BAU, you knew very little of what had actually happened to Spencer in the time he had been taken by Tobias Hankel, nobody did. And the truth is, you barely knew of what was live-streamed. Maybe it made you "weak" in comparison to the rest of the team, but you just couldn't bear to look at Spencer in that state. The anxiety of not knowing whether or not Spencer was going to live was already too much to handle- even now, knowing he was safe, you still had trouble sleeping, the scenario of having not made it in time playing through your mind over and over again.

Knock, knock, knock

You held your breath in anticipation as your hands hit the door, you bit your lip in a painful desperation. Please, Spencer. You beg, your voice cracking as you whisper to yourself.

No response.

It wasn't like Spencer to not talk to you, especially not for days on end. The two of you had been friends since the academy. You were instantly drawn to him, maybe it was his impressive memory, or how passionate he was about his work, maybe it was his awkward boyish charm, or his sweet smile, or how his eyes lit up when he won a game of chess or cards, and the way he scrunched his nose whenever he laughed, maybe it was the way his sweaters never fit just right, and his socks never matched, or-

It was more than sufficient to say that you had fallen head over heels for Spencer, more than you had for anyone else in your life, you were in love. He was kind, and inviting, and you could never understand why everyone else seemed to make fun of him. And finally after what felt like an eternity of pining, and planning for the perfect moment- a french film marathon at Spencer's apartment and a few too many glasses of cheap wine was what let your feelings slip. You could still feel the way your stomach dropped as the words left your tongue,

"You know I love you, Spence"

"Yeah- like- as a friend." He stuttered, obviously caught off guard

You could have saved yourself then, played it cool, and said yes, but before you could stop yourself your head was shaking no.

Spencer's eyes widened and the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish smile, "Really?" He looks down at his lap, his fingers rapidly tapping against his knee, "I- wow- I-" He shakes his head and looks back at you, "I love you too."

With a few blinks you find yourself back in reality. You could only live in memories for so long. You sighed, as tears welled up in your eyes. Part of you wondered if you were being selfish, crying about how you missed him when he was going through so much worse.

You wiped your stinging eyes, fuck it. You needed to know how he was doing. You reach into the pocket of your coat, feeling around before gripping the cool metal of your key ring. You pull it out of your pocket before gripping the keys that hung from it tightly in your hands. The dull metal pressed into the skin of your hands, and your cold, stiff fingers gripped harder to the point where it hurt. You closed your eyes, wincing as you tightened your fist around the metal even harder, trying to convince yourself to go through with your plan. At some point of you and Spencer "going steady" you had exchanged keys to each other's apartments.

You released the key ring from your grip, a red indent left in the palm of your aching hand. You sift through the various keys and with a loud jingling sound, the other keys fell to the bottom of the ring as you gripped the key to Spencer's apartment between your thumb and index finger. You sigh once more, telling yourself the worst that could happen is if he really doesn't want to see you he will tell you to leave and you will listen.

You push the key into the lock and twist it until you can turn the door handle. The door opens with a creak, and you step into the dark apartment, careful to close the door softly behind you. You can barely see two feet in front of you, all the lights are off and the blinds are drawn. Your hand slides up a wall as you fumble around for a light switch, flicking on the soft, warm wall light next to the door. You blink a few times, getting used to the light before your gaze darts over to the kitchen table. The apartment was almost unrecognizable. It was cluttered to a degree that you had never seen from Spencer before. He was usually so well organized. But now, papers, takeout containers, and half-drunken cups of coffee were scattered around the dark wooden surface.

It broke your heart to see Spencer's living spaces in such disarray, if this is what his apartment looked like, you couldn't even bear to think about what you might find if you were to peek inside his mind. Even with the lights now on, the dark green walls of the apartment never felt this dark to you.

You tread softly toward his bedroom, careful not to make too much noise against the creaky wood of his apartment floor. Part of you was aware of how creepy this seemed- and you worried maybe you'd scare Spencer by entering his room. Still- maybe it was selfish, but you missed him too much to allow another day go by without seeing him. Allowing Spencer to just stay holed up in his apartment for days on end was not going to do anything for anyone.

You press your hand against Spencer's bedroom door, it's opened just a crack and you're able to push the door open with a small creak. The room isn't as dark as the rest of his apartment, a few small beams of light from the setting sun peek into the small room from blinds that haven't been fully closed, drenching it with a warm orange color.

Spener's clothes are scattered throughout the room, and his brown leather bag had been thrown on the ground near the door, papers and books spilling out of it. You could almost guarantee it had been in that spot from the moment he got home from that dreaded case.

Your eyes flick up to the bed in the middle of the room where Spencer lay, his face down, stuffed into the pillows. His comforter had been kicked to the side, and the fitted sheet had come off one of the corners of the mattress.

You wondered just how much Spencer had actually left his bed since he had gotten home, the takeout containers and coffee cups in the dining room signified to you at least he did at some point leave his bedroom. Still, the sorry state of everything made you want to cry. How could anyone do this to him?

You slip off your shoes, and inch across the soft carpet closer to the bed, careful not to step on any of the clothes that were strewn about the floor.

"Spencer," You say, just above a whisper, attempting to let him know of your presence. He barely even stirs in response to the noise, turning onto his side deep in sleep.

As you got closer to the bed you could see him more clearly. His hair was a mess, long curly strands stuck to his cheeks with sweat, his eyes shut tight and his mouth almost turned down into a frown. Even in sleep, he looked so upset, so tortured. It made you sick to your stomach to even think about what he could have been dreaming about.

"Spencer?" You say again, weaker this time- your voice trembling with nerves.

No response.

You sigh, pulling off your jacket and allowing it to collect on the floor with the rest of the scattered clothes. You sit down on the edge of the bed and think carefully about your next move. You don't want to frighten him, but it may be impossible not to not after you basically broke in.

You reach a delicate hand outward and move a couple pieces of Spencer's hair from his cheek. His head moves slightly in response, but you continue to smooth your hand down the rest of the length of his hair. You can tell it's tangled, even without combing your fingers through it. You let your hand fall further, down his neck, resting on his bare back. He's warm to the touch as you rub soft circles on the exposed skin.

"Spencer?" You say again, louder this time leaning your body towards him.

His eyes flick open and he's jolted awake, swatting your arm away as a gasp leaves his mouth.

"H-hey," You grab his arm to prevent him from swinging any further, "It's just me Spence."

He stares at you wide-eyed, pupils dilated with a mix of confusion and fear. His throat rises with a thick swallow and his lip trembles. You begin speaking frantically,

"I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to fright-"

"W-what are you doing here?" He asks, his voice is weak but there's a pointedness to his question.

"I just- I wanted to make sure you were okay- I haven't heard from you in a while and I was so worried about you I just-" Your brain was going a mile a minute before all of a sudden... your train of thought disappears as you look into Spencer's obviously pained eyes. His eyes blink rapidly as he attempts to hold back tears. The sheets have fallen off of him and his bare chest is shiny with sweat as it rises and falls rapidly. You let go of his arm, letting it drop down beside him. "I'm sorry," You whisper, too saddened at the state of him to continue.

Spencer stares at you for another moment before looking down, a single tear dripping down his pale cheek. Even now, like this he was still beautiful to you. And despite everything you couldn't help but for your heart to fill with love. But as your heart felt with love, the rest of your body overflowed with anxiety as you contemplated what to even do or say next. You stutter,

"D-do you want me to leave-"

"No." Spencer cuts you off. "Stay." He looks back up at you, "Please." His eyes are wet with tears that threaten to escape down his face.

"Of course," You nod, "of course," softer this time.

"Can we lay down?" Spencer asks, twisting his face. You nod fervently, swinging your legs onto the bed. You pat the pillow next to you, beckoning Spencer to lie back down. He does so, slowly, and you follow, your faces inches from each other, heads on the same pillow.

You inch yourself closer to Spencer, heat radiating off of his trembling body. You place a hand upon his cheek, stroking your thumb slowly back and forth.

"Am I ever going to be okay?" Spencer sniffles. The question feels like a knife had been stabbed right through your heart.

"Of course you will, Spence, " You assure, soft yet firm.

"It doesn't feel like it," He shakes his head, forcing your hand to fall from its spot on his cheek.

"These things take time, lots and lots of time."

"Yeah but-" He starts, getting choked up again, "What if you don't want to wait for me?"

"Wait for you?" You ask, confused as to what he meant.

"If I'm like this for too long." He answers, "You won't want to be around anymore."

"Oh Spencer," you shake your head, "No, no" You put your hand back onto his cheek.

"I feel like such a burden- that's why I haven't called," His voice breaks as he starts crying, really crying this time, "I mean- I'm an FBI agent, I should be able to get through this. Everyone else on the team would be back to work in an instant. And I can't even get out of bed."

"Spencer." You cut off his ramblings, "You are not a burden- you could have died, Spencer, no one is expecting you to be alright."

"I feel like I should be." He pauses, "I just don't want everyone to sit around worrying about me, I don't want you to sit around worrying about me. It's not fair."

"I worry because I care." You relay a small smile, "Because I love you."

"And that's what I'm afraid of, one day you'll realize you've spent so much effort worrying about me that you won't want to love me anymore."

"Never." You wipe the tears from Spencer's eyes, trying to give him gentle reassurance. "I'd wait forever for you to be okay."

a/n: woah long time no post? I haven't posted a fic on here in almost two years! sorry I'm a little rusty, I've been deeeep in a creative rut. I'm accepting requests now however, Ive missed you guys!

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Please let Astarion meet Tav's family and have a younger sibling like 6 be like im gonna marry the prince points at Astarion.

Tav : Sorry, im married to the prince

NO IM GONNA MARRY THE PRINCE

That's so fucking cute kill me. But I just realized AFTER I finished it I read this wrong 😭😭 I read it as "marry" instead of "married" so whoops now it's an asking for your hand in marriage fic.

Also, I'm going to make this a weird little, unofficial, alternate reality, off shoot of this fic to explain away why Astarion can be in the sun without ascending because I am ~lazy~

Quick summary if you didn't read it, Tav serves Selune, gets a blessing for all the good work, and uses it to cure the anti-light issue of the vampirism (but not all of it). It's not a literal extension of that fic but I'm stealing my own plot explanations. That's it! Now here we go:

~

Astarion wasn't nervous per se. He was just... on edge. And the two-week journey it took to get here wasn't helping things, not when it gave him so much time to ruminate in his thoughts. He never expected to be in the position of "meeting the family," let alone in anticipation for asking for someone's hand in marriage.

Astarion wasn't even quite sure how his life got here. He had always fantasized that a life without Cazador would be one of selfish hedonism, not one where he would be legitimately concerned about a damn six year old sibling's first impression of him.

But then you came along, effortlessly shattering all of his grandiose plans with a batt of your eyelashes. Perhaps the entire journey of falling in love was more complicated, but it felt like it was that simple. In hindsight, he never stood a chance against you, but it was hilarious that there was a time he ever thought he did.

All of his prior dreams and fantasies felt like nothing in comparison to just being with you. It had been a year since you both saved the Sword Coast, a beautiful, fantastic year. That had ended with him somehow more in love with you now than when he first confessed. Selune's blessing had certainly helped with that he was sure. He still couldn't quite believe that you would use a god's blessing on him of all people, but gods, was he appreciative. Because being able to walk in the sun again meant that he could live the life he wanted, with no restrictions. He could be the partner you deserved, the kind that a father would happily say yes to when asking for your hand.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. Perhaps he hadn't seen any of your family members in the time you'd been together, but he had heard plenty. You loved them all to death, especially your little sister. You wrote to them constantly, the mere sight of a letter from your parents enough to put you in a great mood for the rest of the day. He was aware that your mother was supposedly a saint, a fact that your own father had instilled in you often. He knew that they had a wonderful, loving marriage and were both higher ups in the Church of Selune. A fact that Astarion didn't particularly enjoy.

As grateful to the moon goddess as he was, he was aware that you were an expectation to the very normal belief that vampires were bad. And that marrying one was one of the stupidest things you could ever do from an average person's perspective, let alone a Selunite.

Why you hadn't done the smart thing and lied about what he was, Astarion would never know. But he did know that the thought of their rejection over his admittedly sordid history was putting him in a tailspin.

"They're going to love you," You said for the hundredth time, giving his hand a squeeze as you led him up the steps to your childhood home, "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. I promise."

Astarion highly doubted that, but you were already knocking on the front door before he had a chance to argue. The door instantly slammed open, a beaming child already launching themselves at you before Astarion could process what was happening.

But you were more prepared them he was. You effortlessly caught them in your arms, laughing at their excited shouting, "Titi! You're late!"

So this was the famous Arabeth.

"No, I'm not!" You laughed as you settled her on your hip, "And what happened to my little girl's manners huh? You haven't even introduced yourself yet."

The child glanced over at him, like she was just realizing for the first time that someone else was standing over there. She looked a little shocked at the sight of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Wide enough for Astarion to start to wonder if something was on his face.

He gave her a little wave only for her to bury her face into your shoulder, peeking out at him with her lips pursed. Which was not the best start to the whole making his darling's family actually like him plan.

"Well, as you've probably guessed this is Arabeth. She's just a little shy," You reassured as you stepped inside, muttering a quick invitation inside under your breath. He appreciated that, he didn't need the whole house to be reminded of his... limitations.

"But she'll get over it soon enough," You continued as you called into the house, "Mom? Dad? We're here!"

And just like that they were rushing into the room, acting just as excited as your sister had been. Your mother wasted no time in smothering your face with kisses while your father swept you up into a hug. It was a rather impressive display of coordination, considering how they hadn't managed to knock you and your sister to the floor in the process. Astarion was pretty sure they were both saying something along the lines of We missed you! But it was hard to tell with all of you so tangled up in each other.

It was heartwarming to see, in all honestly. Of course such a loving person would come from an equally loving family, what else would he expect?

Though he certainly hadn't been expecting for your mother to throw her arms around him next. She brought him into a tight hug before looking him up and down, "So you're Astarion huh?"

She turned back to you, grinning ear to ear with her hands set on Astarion's shoulders, "He's so handsome! Selune help us, do you remember the last boy you brought home? He had a nose the length of my arm-"

"And that's enough of that," You said with a strained laugh, pulling your eccentric mother back a few inches, "And we've talked about the impromptu hugs. What happened to asking for permission?"

"Sorry, sorry!" She said with a wave of her hand, "Let me try again. I'm Seliras, and this is my husband-"

"Marcoul," Your father interrupted, putting his hand out for Astarion to shake, "It's been awhile since we've met a boyfriend."

"He's a little more than that," You said with a sigh as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

"We'll be the judge of that," Marcoul said with a sharp but friendly grin, the grip he had on Astarion's hand briefly tightening before he let go, "From what we've heard, you're quite the character aren't you?"

Ah, so the interrogating was starting early then. It was nothing that Astarion hadn't expected. Besides, turning up the charm was his strong suit, even when he was uncharacteristically nervous.

Astarion smiled back at him, "You've heard right. And I'm more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

"Oh gods please don't say that," You groaned, but it was too late. Your parents were already leading him to sit, rapid-fire questions coming out of their mouth.

Where are you from? How did you meet? Are you serious about our Tav? What's your religion? Where's your family? What are your plans?

But Astarion answered them all, with only mild censorship for the child's sake. The child who suddenly couldn't stop staring at him. It wasn't exactly easy to sell himself as a future husband when he was a vampiric ex-slave, but he made do.

It was an overwhelming experience to say the least, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. That was one good thing about trying to marry into a family of zealots, it was a lot easier to convince them of your virtue when you received a personal blessing from their goddess.

By the end of the night, they were all throughly appeased, enough so to get off the topic of him for a moment.

"You look a little young to have a thirty-year old child," Astarion said to your mother. He was actively trying to compliment her for obvious reasons, but he was also genuinely curious. She barely looked a day over 40.

"Oh we breed young," She said with a laugh, "We had Tav in our teenage years. Arabeth came much, much later. Our favorite little surprise. Gods, I can't think of a single person in our family who didn't have kids young. Our little Tav is the only exception to the rule."

"But maybe not for much longer, huh?" Marcoul added with a grin, yelping when you lightly smacked him over the head for the comment.

"Do not start the kid talk again!" You hissed out, cheeks red, "We've talked about this!"

Astarion couldn't help but grin at your reaction, charmed by your embarrassment. Though... the idea of the two of you having children together sure was an interesting thought.

Astarion felt a tug on his sleeve while you were distracted arguing with your parents. He turned, smiling when he saw your little sister standing there, still staring at him with wide-eyes.

She took a deep breath before blurting out, "You look like a prince. Are you?"

"Not exactly," Astarion said with a small laugh. That couldn't be further from the truth, "There's no blue blood in my veins."

She frowned, cocking her head at him like he wasn't making any sense. But then an idea obviously struck her as she excitedly asked, "But if you married a princess, then you'd become a prince too. Right?"

"I suppose?" Astarion answered with a shrug.

"So if I become a princess, and I marry you, then you'll be a prince?"

This conversation was quickly becoming out of his depth. But luckily enough for him you were swooping in to save him.

You laughed at her question, turning your attention back to the two of them, "No offense Bethy, but I'm going to be the one marrying this particular prince."

But Arabeth wasn't having it. She crossed her arms, looking at you like she was the one talking to a child, "You can't. Because if I don't marry him, he won't be a prince. So there. I have to do it."

She looked so serious, her facial expressions incredibly similar to your own. Astarion was holding back a loud laugh as you tried and failed to reason with her, "I can marry him without the royal status-"

"No! I'm marrying the prince!"

Your parents were doing a much worse job at hiding their reactions, both of them opening giggling behind their hands as you came up with a compromise.

"Okay, okay," You said with a sigh, kneeling down to look the small girl in the eye, "How about this? I marry him first. But only until you become a princess. Then he's all yours. Sound fair?"

She thought about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "Sounds fair."

Well Astarion wasn't going to get a better set-up then that. He turned to your father, his nerves coming back for a brief appearance, "I'm assuming now might be a good time to ask what I came here to ask. Though I do promise I only intending on asking for one of your children's hand in marriage."

Marcoul nodded slowly, his face unreadable as he spoke, "I mean no offense when I say this Astarion, but you aren't exactly who I imagined for my daughter."

"Dad don't-"

"Darling, let him finish," Astarion gently interrupted, his eyes still locked with your father's.

He took a deep breathe before continuing, "That said, I've never seen her so... herself with someone else before. So yes. The two of you can marry. On one condition."

"Anything," Astarion said instantly, nearly giddy at the fact that he was so close to the official yes, "Just name it."

"You have to have the wedding here," Seliras answered for him, a massive smile on her face, "No ifs, ands, or buts."

"And I get to be flower girl!" Arabeth chimed in, her past indignation completely forgotten as she climbed all over you, "And there has to be chocolate cake!"

"Oh gods, help us," You groaned, but Astarion was already nodding along. He couldn't give less than two shits where it happened or who was involved. He could scarcely believe that it was happening at all. But that was the last thing he had needed.

He already had the ring, the most amazing person he could ever fathom being with. Who actually wanted him back.

Now all he had to do was ask.

[cdragons]

Blood & Pain - Druig x Hecate!Eternal Reader (Kaetlyn) Oneshot

Pairings: Persephone!Eternal Reader & Hecate!Eternal Reader, ft. Sephia x Ikaris, and Kaetlyn x Druig Word Count: ~3.5k Summary: A lil' oneshot to show how Druig and his wife got together, and what way to show that than with hot and heavy SMUT! Warning(s): SMUT (if you are under 18 DNI), some angst if you squint, mention of bullying (sort of), slight mention of blood, knife conjuring, Druig is obsessed and we love that, I just really wanted to write something to get me into the Halloween Spirit Notes: This a surprise oneshot to my wonderful beta reader, @valeskafics! She is in the middle of midterms, so I wanted to gift her a lil' oneshot to thank her for all of her help and encouragement! She is an incredibly kind and patient human and one of the best and most incredible fanfic writers for HOTD, GOT, and the Ewanverse on Tumblr! If you love any of Ewan Mitchell's works or are a fan of GOT/HOTD, I highly recommend checking her blog out! You will not regret it! Also, the BIGGEST thank you and shout of love to @ethereal-athalia my good man in the storm, I have never clicked so well with someone on this platform when it came to crazy ideas, and thanks to her, I can write out my ideas and share them on this site!If you want to read more from this AU, please click on this masterlist!

No matter how the rest of the team believed, what ideas his own children liked to conjure, how the tale was spun by generations -- Druig did not fall in love with his wife at first sight. He knew who you were, Kaetlyn, a fighter who could manipulate the shadows of every living being. You would later the mother of surgery and modern medicine- and even beyond that, a scholar and pioneer for feats of magic that remain untouched even by the greatest of the Supremes in the Mystic Arts.

He couldn’t remember the time he first realized that he loved you- he only knew that when he recognized it, he had fallen so deeply that he could no longer remember what it felt like not to be in love you. You were everywhere. There was simply no place left on this planet where Druig would wander that you wouldn’t be there beckoning him to you.

It was almost shameful how long it took for him to fall in love with you in comparison to how quickly you adored him. It had taken him over 100 years for you to fully gain his attention, and another 200 years for you to wait for him to confess his reciprocation. 200 years of clever banter and harmless flirting that shifted to longing gazes and lingering touches, until you finally had enough of his lame patience and reluctance. You dragged Druig to a secluded area- away from the Domo and humans alike, and took his face in your hands and forced his lips to yours. One kiss become two, two became five, and soon you and he had joined together in an explosion of passion that would bind you to him for the rest of eternity.

The sun had long set, and stars and moon glittered in the night. The two of you were as naked as the days you were born. Your need to have each other was beyond a matter of lust, it was primal need. Druig had torn your clothes without any thought- he starved for you. Any barrier that separated your body from him was flung away. Your skin glowed in the moonlight, every curve and line of your frame gloriously highlighted for his eyes alone. His lily-bloomed skin laid under you, ready for anything and everything you would give him. He still remembered the words you whispered to warn him all that would come as a result of your love.

“Druig, I must warn you,” you whispered. Druig kissed you across your collarbone, and you tugged on his hair to gaze into his eyes. “I can be very selfish- I will have all of you, or none of you.” 

He could feel your wet center throb with each wince that escaped his lips. “You already do, my love,” he whispered back, silently pleading you to let him continue. “I swear you do.”

He craved you. He desperately wanted to map his tongue and lips across your body; he wanted to memorize the feel of your skin, the smell of your sweat, the taste of your cum. Whatever you gave him, he wanted it all.

Pushing him to lay on his back, you crawled forward to hover your soaked cunt over his cock. “I’m selfish- relentlessly so, any other woman that catches your eye will feel no end of my wrath.” You lowered yourself only enough so that his tip could paint its precum on your clit, the corner of your lips curled into a cruel smirk in response to the strangled moan he let out. Your body trembled from the sheer delight you felt at witnessing the surly telepath whine so pathetically from your touch.

“Please,” he begged, “please angel. Let me feel you- I need it- I need you.” Druig could feel his eyes filled with tears from the overwhelming pleasure that would fill him. “I want to touch you, please-”

Druig’s whimpers were brutally cut off as you placed a finger over his lips.

“Shhhh- not yet,” you breathily whispered, “you need to earn your pleasure, my love.” Your pupils dilated seeing him take your finger in his mouth, and used his tongue to suck on it. “I need to know if you understand what it means to love me, and have it in return.”

Before Druig could respond, you lowered yourself further- until he filled you to the brim with only a single thrust. You were so taken back by the sheer size of him that you felt your climax wash over as every part of you trembled from the intense euphoria.

“By Arishem,” you thought, “how is he so big?”

You wanted to make him beg, to drown him in so much pleasure that it would hurt. Whatever pain you inflicted on him now, it was nothing compared to the torture you experienced in having to wait for him to admit his feelings. You lost count on the number of times you pleasured yourself at the thought of the man beneath you. So many times, you wanted to sneak into his bed, and wake him to witness the maddening effect he had on you. But having him inside you was better than anything you could imagine.

Gripping his shoulders, you lifted yourself until only his tip remained-before slamming your hips down to his- repeating this motion until falling into a rhythm that was accompanied by a song of wild moans and gasps. Everything about this man- the aquamarine shine in his eyes, the glowing pallor of his body, the tone and strength in his muscles- screamed the image of perfection to you.

“Druig, Druig,” you could only cry out his name- as if it was the only word you knew, “I love you, I love you, I love- FUCK!” You screamed out at the feel of his hips moving to meet yours, and before you could blink, he shifted your positions so that you would be laying on your back as he caged your body with his frame.

Druig couldn’t take it anymore, it tormented him to not take you without abandon. For so long, he dreamed of having you like this- warm, teasing, and his. You called yourself selfish, so what? Druig knew what it meant to be selfish, to want to possess and devour every part of you until there was nothing left for anyone else to take or see.

You must have blind to not see his desperation for you. How could someone so bright and brilliant not understand that he would gladly let you tear him limb by limb if it meant to be loved by you.

To have you under him like this- writhing in ecstasy, crying from exquisite pain, your soft curves molded against his hard frame- it was as if this was his true purpose. It was not to assist in humanity’s evolution, but to belong to you as you would belong to him. It was to have you like this at every waking moment- filling you with love, and overwhelming you with desire.

As he continued to slam his hips against yours with reckless abandon, he trailed his lips down your throat, sharply nipping your collarbones, until all that he could reach were your heaving breasts that moved in tandem with his thrusts. He was so enraptured by your presence that when you peaked once more on his cock, his rutting only grew more relentless and rougher than what you thought was possible.

Stars, he loved the way you screamed his name. He wanted everyone to know it was him who made you mad with elation. He wanted the whole world to know that you, Kaetlyn- gloriously headstrong, brilliantly beautiful Kaetlyn- the wielder of shadows, and master of the darkness and night, was begging for his cock like a common whore.

“Look at you,” he snarled- jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth threatened to break from the pressure, “what were you saying m’darling? I could have sworn that you were trying to get me to beg- but look at you now.” Your head thrown back as your hair sprayed around you like a beckoning halo as you babbled nonsensically, legs wrapped around his torso to minimize any potential loss of distance, your wickedly sharp nails cutting into his skin to leave vibrant trails on his back as blood leaked from the wounds. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

Your only response was whimpers and cries, so Druig decided to be a bit cruel, and slowed down before pulling himself out and stopping completely. The loss of your warmth was complete agony, but the consequence was well-worth the pain at the sight of your immediate reaction.

“DRUIG!” You cried out in pain. You tried to move yourself to feel more of him, but the smug bastard had pinned your torso down- and your body was still recovering from the overstimulation of your previous orgasm. Still maintaining his grip, Druig towered above you in order to gain a better vantage point. Staring down at the aftermath of his onslaught, he almost came right then and there. You were the very likeness of desired perfection- tears had leaked from your eyes and were trailing down your face, your flush travelled down to the tips of your breasts, and there was not a corner of your body that wasn’t covered in marks left by his teeth.

“Please, Druig, please-” you begged him, “don’t stop! I need you!” You felt you were dying from his loss, you felt so empty. It was like you finally felt complete, and when he pulled away it was as if all the air in your lungs were completely snuffed out. You couldn’t bear the pain- it was tearing you apart. You tried to pull him down to get him to kiss- you needed his love; nothing would ever be enough- not when it came from him.

Your soul craved his.

Crystalline blue eyes softened momentarily before steeling once more to grip your hips even tighter, Druig barely lowered himself- just enough to mix his throbbing tip’s precum with your slick. No matter how much he adored you -- however much he wanted to give in to you-- he needed you to admit that you were his first.

“Open your eyes,” his rasp sent chills to run throughout your entire body, “and see what you do to me.” When you looked into his eyes, you were taken back by how dark they had become- that beautiful pale hue had minimized into a thin ring from how dilated his pupils had become. It wasn’t just lust that swam in his gaze, but also mania and lunacy. His piercing gaze, along with his heaving breaths created such a stark contrast to the calm and collected mask he showcased to everyone- humans and Eternals alike. Druig looked less like the usual apathetic god everyone thought him to be, and more like a raging terrifying beast that fed on savagery and only cared to fulfill his most primal urges.

You have never seen such a magnificent and enthralling sight before, and you prayed to the stars above that this time would not be the last.

Druig could hear your thoughts, and he didn’t care how insane he looked. He wanted you to see all that you did to him- how you engrained yourself into his very soul and being. You called yourself infatuated, but he was obsessed. And as aware he was of his own delusion; he didn’t ever plan to stop.

Fuck Arishem- fuck anyone and everyone who would dare keep you from him. He didn’t care the lengths he would have to go to keep you by his side. Let them paint him the villain- it was all worth it if it meant having your love.

“Tell me.” He pleaded you, “please, my angel- tell me your mine. Let me in, I want all of you and only you.” His eyes held so much love and trust that it took your breath away, and it made your heart swell with so much adoration for the man that caged you between his arms. There was only one thing to say, the only thing that mattered that would seal a vow between you both for the rest of eternity.

Summoning all your courage, leaving behind all your bravado, letting all your insecurities to be put on display, you whispered, “Yes.”

Immediately after you condemned your soul to his, Druig speared himself into you to the hilt with a single thrust, and pressed his lips to yours to drink in every one of your throes of passion. Setting off at a relentless pace, it was not long until another brutal climax sheared through your body. With each push, Druig’s cock hit that spot inside you – resulting in stars to bloom around you as your mind was clouded in lust. With each thrust of his length, tremendous stimulation tearing through your walls. The sound of skin-on-skin surrounded the area around you, creating a forcefield of bliss that could not be intruded by anyone but the two immortal beings engaged in their act of fervor. The only other sounds that could be heard were the gentle whispers of the night breeze, along the soft chirpings of the crickets.

Feeling his cock throbbing, Druig knew that he was reaching his limit. However, he refused to finish without you going over the edge with him. Setting an even more ruthless pace, he could feel the trembles that ran throughout your body as he fights to hold control over himself, and not releasing himself deep inside you. Only being able to get a few more thrusts in, Druig viciously cursed as he let out a snarled cry – the loudest you have ever heard from him. With one final push, he came deep inside your cunt, painting your walls with his cum as you felt his warmth flooding inside you. The sensation of the thick ropes of cum engulfing your cunt triggered your final climax, and you felt the evidence of your indescribable pleasure that washed over you mixed with his thick cum that overflowed within you to the point where it leaked out of your core.

Refusing to part, the both of you let yourselves bask in the bliss-filled bubble that was the aftermath of your lovemaking. But as happy as you were, dread filled your mind as you realized what you had done. You knew how the others saw you. How Kingo and Sprite liked to poke fun at your darkness, how Ikaris would voice his doubts of your ability to protect with ill-hidden snarks to Ajak, even the humans would whisper in fear at the sight of you soaked in deviants’ blood in the aftermath of your many onslaughts. It was bad enough that they looked down on Sephia for how she so faithfully remained at your side, you couldn’t let the man you loved be dragged down as well – it would have been too much.

No matter how Druig liked to present himself as cool and indifferent to human conflict – you knew that it was far from true. You’ve watched him for centuries, and there was no one else on the world whose soul was as gentle and carried more love for humanity than even Ajak and Sersi. You couldn’t let your own selfish desires bring his ruin, you refused to let that happen.

“This was a mistake,” you forced yourself to say as you faced away from him to locate your attire, you couldn’t bear it if he saw how much it killed you to say it, but it needs to be done, “I never should have let it go this far.” You crawled on your knees to reach your tunic, “Let’s just forget this ever hap-”

A vicious growl cut you off as Druig’s hands grabbed your wrist to the point where you were sure bruises would show tomorrow. “Don’t,” he snarled, “even try to insult me by suggesting to pretend that this never happened- that we never happened.” Pulling you back to cage you in his arms, Druig buried his face into the crook of your neck- as if imprinting the scent of your skin to his memory in fear that you would disappear before his very eyes.

Leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “How could you ever think for a second that I could possibly go on with my life after finally having you? Tell me angel, how do you expect a man to simply live on weeds after finally partaking a drop of ambrosia?”

Your heart melted at his words, but you could not let yourself be swayed. “Druig,” you started, “you don’t understand the cost of being with me. You deserve someone who is kind and warm and-”

Druig forced you to look into his eyes. “Stop. Don’t you dare let the words of those idiots make you see yourself as less than the perfection you are. Do you know what I see when I look at you?” His eyes softened for what he was about to ask next. “Let me show you, my love.”

As his pale blue irises glowed into a golden hue, making him transform into a sight akin to godliness, you opened your mind to his, and what you saw shook you to your core. You saw scenes of yourself travelling through your shadows, taking down dozens of deviants with only a few arrows from your quiver, as well as the aftermath of you standing alone in a field of mangled corpses dyed with black tarlike blood. You saw yourself as the humans did, embodied darkness that killed with cold precision and controlled beings with their own shadows.

But soon you saw moments that you had forgotten, moments that you believed were private. You saw yourself sneaking away at night in the cover of darkness to watch ghosts roaming aimlessly, along with the pity in your eyes from hearing their sorrows. You saw yourself in your room at the Domo, surrounded by scrolls from topics ranging from rare spells to hand-drawn diagrams of the human body. You witnessed the smile spread across your face when you helped a spirit finally reach their peace to the other world. You saw the time Ajak approached you to ask for your assistance in delivering the children from expectant mothers in the village. You saw yourself come outside the tent to hand over the child of your first delivery to the father, who thanked you with tears in his eyes after being informed that both the child and mother safe and healthy. You watched yourself stare in shock of his praise before seeing the child reach for your finger, and let yourself feel the disbelief that flooded you at the sight of pure innocence staring back at you.

“You call yourself selfish and unkind,” Druig’s voice brought you back to reality- his eyes returned to that familiar blue, “but that couldn’t be more untrue.” He softly pressed his forehead to yours as he continued. “Would a selfish person spend night after night gathering impossible texts to study for an unnamed spirit to finally reach peace? Would someone unkind research every possibility in order to ensure that a mother could hold her child? How could you let someone as pathetic as Ikaris and Sprite taint your own views of yourself so much? Kaetlyn, I was a coward for waiting for so long to tell you my feelings, I was selfish in thinking of my own pride and dignity was more important than your strife. But still you loved me, and I could not be more grateful for your existence for that.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as you felt all your walls crashing down, how could someone so frustratingly wonderful exist? If this was all a dream, you never wanted to wake up. But just to be sure, you took a stone that just fit into the palm of your hand and transmuted it into a silver dagger. Holding it just above his heart, you warned him one final time.

“Druig, no matter what sweet words you whisper, I am selfish. I could kill you now without hesitation. I could cut you and cause you so much pain that you would beg for death. Do you still wish to remain by my side?”

Staring back at you with only ardent love and unfiltered adoration, Druig grasped your hand and dragged the blade’s tip across his chest. Thin trails of dark red life leaked from the wounds, but there was no indication of pain. “If loving you is pain,” he whispered as he wiped the blood from his wound with his finger, only to smear it across your lips, “then let me bleed.” He repeated those same words a year later, when he married you in a private ceremony after the two of you sneaked away from the village’s harvest banquet.

Tagging: @valeskafics, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @3vergr3en, @its-actually-minicika, @fivebefore21, @asa-do-your-thing, @hypnoticmistake, @blog-100, @tacorice, @prettyvintageafternoon, @deanthomaswhore, @angelnyx, @henesseyhaven, @xcharlottemikaelsonx, @sunphyre, @beananacake, @atomwritez, @vikingqueen28, @getawaycardotmp3, @redheadspark, @heliosphere8, @bambiandbam, @americanprometheuss, @chaoticdetectivewidow, @mazerunnermarvel, @bryandechartisasmolbean,

Let me know if you want to be tagged! Have a happy October! Please be kind, and leave a like/comment/reblog!

[bonesofapoet]

Heyy could u maybe do a frank castle x cook!reader who's like a female (or not what u want) carmen berzatto from The Bear

bittersweet author's note: god this was actually really fun to do?! i loved this request?!?!? the one where you wonder why you came home to save a dying pipe dream, but frank is your anchor when all you want to do is torch the place and be a menace to society. word count: 1600

On Tuesday evening, Frank Castle found you trying not to scream.

The alley was quiet, as night began to cloak the city in adamantine bands. Glittering light swept across the sky in familiar arcs of glowing stardust and heartfelt stories. A breeze, cool and gentle, flew across your skin in waves, a most welcome contrast to the warmth of the kitchen you’d been cooped up in since early afternoon.

The sudden stillness wanted to make you fucking cry. But you couldn’t cry, sure as all holy hell not here, not now. Screaming would be a better route to take - you’d get less shit from that - and you were positive most of the sound would be covered anyway, or, unfortunately, ignored - yet it felt like you’d been louder than usual all afternoon, which, funny enough, did nothing to ease the ebb and flow of a building storm just waiting for an excuse to break free from this fucking shit show called a restaurant -

“Hey,” says a voice. The crunch of footsteps catches you on your fall back down to Earth. They guide you back to a body so fraught with tension that you are, quite honestly, curious how the hell you’re still alive and kicking. “This a bad time?”

The laugh spilling through the alleyway is more than a little aggressive. More than a little sarcastic. It tumbles through your lips without thought, but then again, most things do when you're around Frank Castle. He's someone you can let go around, even on the days you'd rather burn down your inheritance than drag it kicking and screaming from the burial shroud it's been swathed in since you came back home.

The word home almost gets stuck in your throat.

“Well,” you say, a tired sigh hissing through your teeth, threatening to catch on the bones like barbed wire. The palms that flutter up dig into your eyes for a moment. Then two. They fall back to your sides, though your gaze stays locked on the few constellations unhidden by the godawful pollution filling the city. You supposed you would be a little more grateful for that,  seeing the cosmos in any capacity, had you taken a. . .more gracious path of life. A more selfish one. One that didn't involve feeling guilt tripped into coming home to save a dead relative’s pipe dream from its own invariably slow and horrifically painful death. “That depends. You up for hire?”

Frank Castle steps under a stray glimmer of moonlight, starlight - it all looks the same, these days - and laughs, soundless, at your barb. At least, he thinks, he’s pretty sure you're joking. The closer he watches you - sees how your eyes aren't gleaming in their teasing tell, how your lips don't tilt at their corners when you're trying to hide the sin.

He watches you inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Watches your eyes fall down from the velvet sky to rest on him, hardly a worthy companion in comparison to the natural beauty surrounding you, even here, among this corner of your life that seems to be literally anything other than shiny.

You, on the other hand, would beg to differ.

“I really hope you don't mean that,” Frank starts, “because I would really hate to hike up your overhead. You know. Make your life worse, instead of doing you a favor.”

“Oh please,” you say, a smile clawing its way from the shadows after all. “That would be a favor, believe it or not.”

Frank chances a few steps closer, toes a loose pile of gravel by his boots. Looks up at you with brows drawn together just a little. It's cute, you think. More so than the full on scowl that intimidates a few of your nightmare colleagues inside. Your smile grows wider, feels genuine at the recollections.

“That bad, huh?”

The back door flies open, as if your own words would be an inadequate injustice to his question. He'd just have to settle for a little example then, something to really hammer home the reality of your headache personified. The hinges screamed at the quickness, the roughness, and any sense of peace you had begun to gather was about to evaporate into a flurry of nothing. You meet Frank’s eyes, and your expression conveys the very haughtiness of someone about to give him the proof of a lifetime.

He simply steps into a shadow, and watches.

Your name is falling through the doorway loud enough for the whole godforsaken block to hear, twisting and catching gracelessly around the latest woe that literally any entry level Sioux chef could solve in their sleep.

(Moments like this one made you question why, exactly, it was that you left - willingly left - the first, and only job that did not have you scrambling for sanity. Not counting, y'know, the constant anxiety of never being good enough to cook at a Michelin restaurant in New York fucking City. That was neither here nor there, these days.)

Silence follows, punctuated by the white noise of banter and the familiar, oh-so-beloved chaos spilling into the night from the threshold beyond. A lot of the unsavory arguing is carried off by the wind, yet you heard the gist, all the same.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

“I'll be back in a minute.” You say, not even turning to the door, to your chef.

“Are you -”

The voice cuts off, dead in the breeze as Frank Castle is finally noticed lurking in the shadows. You turn around then, fully facing the silhouette, illuminated ominously against a backdrop of aggressive industrial lighting.

��Did you hear what I just said, or do you need to be pulled from the line and re-enrolled in fucking preschool?”

“I - sorry. I'll - I'll go relay the message.” The silhouette moves backwards into the light, hand pulling the door so it follows. Almost closed - it stops, along with your chef, slinking around the edge to tack on what was forgotten in the hasty, unpolished departure. “- Chef. I'll relay the message, Chef.”

At least an attempt was made. That was progress. And maybe, one day in the far, far, far, far future - you wouldn't have to hide in an alley trying not to think about arson. Frank Castle wouldn't carve out time to hide with you - even if it is of his own accord - playing bodyguard in case anyone felt bold enough to try backing you into a corner.

“Same shit, different day.” your hands find their way to closed eyes once more, a groan spilling into the alley to dance in the breeze.

Frank stepped out of the darkness, tendrils of velvety smoke clinging to him like a long lost lover, the remnants of a dream fraying at the edges. He stops a mere step away, hands buried deep in  pockets instead of reaching for you, instead of pulling you all safe and sound to his chest. God, he thought, what he would give to hold you in his arms. Especially on a beautiful night like this one, when you were too frazzled to see it.

“Coulda been worse. No one said anything offensive this time.”

“That's because you scare them, Frank.” hands flutter back down. Frank is close when eyes blink open, slow and involuntary and grateful, even, maybe a little - if only so you can have him close enough to touch. You even smile a bit, something real this time, even if it is a little sardonic. Even if it is a little saccharine sweet.

Something flares in his eyes as he looks at you, burns hot and bright and fast before fizzling down to an ember, a spark, then nothing out of the ordinary at all. He doesn't kill the way his lips slope upward though, mirroring the infection your smile imbues into his own. Your fingers twitch, longing to close the distance, to reach over and feather a soft touch along his jaw.

“Maybe that's why I check in. Make sure they're treatin’ ya right.”

You huff a laugh, head tipping up and up and up to revel one last glimpse of the moon before heading back in to deal with the latest crisis you could, no doubt, avoid in your fucking sleep -

Then, a hand, slow and warm and steady slips to the small of your back, an anchor to your swaying body while you savor one last moment of blissful fucking silence. You feel Frank's hand countering you - acutely aware of every flex and point of pressure while you sway ever so slightly. It's - well. It's the first time your brain has, quite literally, shut the fuck up in days. Weeks, maybe. Months, possibly.

Your eyes drift shut, trusting him to catch you if you fall.

“And would you? Treat me right?”

A horn blares on the next block. Sirens scream in the distance. Voices shout from just inside the door. The laugh Frank adds to the muffled symphony of your world is just as quiet, yet it's the only thing that's crystal clear. The only thing that's sweet and honest, something you'd like to bottle up and craft a dish inspired by the thrill it invokes as it washes over your skin.

“You really askin’ me if I’d do right by you? Shit, sugar - I think we both know the answer to that.”

You sway a little, at his words.

His grip on you tightens, another hand resting on your waist. Your smile grows, glowing in the moonlight, starlight, all of the above. The voices inside fade into nothing as your hands rise to find his shoulders, another anchor to keep you from drowning.

[marshmallowprotection]

It was Ray’s idea to bring you to the garden in the middle of the night, and even though you didn’t have much energy to spare, you wanted to spend whatever free time you could get with him before he had to work himself into the ground again.

You hadn’t seen him in days before he’d shown up with a smile on his face, and now that you had him with you, you didn’t want him to just leave again without knowing a moment of his time. His time was a luxury not many could afford, and you counted your blessings that he came to see you before he did anything else with time off.

He could've been doing far more important things than seeing you, but he came all the same!

Inevitably, you knew he would have to go no matter how much time he set aside for you, but you were... truly selfish. His Savior made him believe he wasn’t worth your time, but if anything, you feared that he might realize he was worth more than your time. You were afraid of a day like that. A day when he realized he could do better than you. He certainly could, you thought, because his wonderful eyes were made to experience true love.

As you admired the flowers in his garden, leaning over a grove of forget-me-nots, you felt warm fabric wrap around your shoulders. Perplexed, you lifted your hand to feel it. It was warm like it'd been woven with wool and smelled strongly of roses. You weren't sure if Ray's natural scent was akin to roses, but it smelled much better in comparison to that shimmer slop he had to drink.

You knew it was his coat, the same magenta coat Ray wore every time he visited you, but you hadn't expected him to drape it around your shoulders like your own personal blanket. He mentioned there was something important he needed to do in another part of Mint Eye's garden before he joined you again, but you thought it would take him a few more minutes to finish his task.

Even if he couldn't stand by your side, knowing that he wasn't in his office... knowing you could find him when you needed him... it took away the fear of not being good enough for him... of not knowing if this would be the last time you saw him.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," he whispered.

"I'll always wait for you, Ray," you stood up straight and tugged his coat around you even tighter to cling to the heat that remained. He always looked so cold despite the numerous layers he wore, but his jacket said the opposite. "I don't care how long you take... I'm happy with whatever I can have... for as long as I can have it."

Ray's frown met his eyes as he cupped your face. His thumb stroked your bottom lip as if to erase those words. "I never want you to settle for scraps, my princess. I know what that feels like... to take whatever you can find from the bottom of the barrel because they won't let you have anything else. But, that's not the life I want for you. I want to see you have everything you could ever dream of... more."

The same lip trembled beneath his touch.

But, all I want is you, Ray.

"I see I've been neglecting you," his expression fell as he found one of your hands to take in his own.

No, you thought. You've never neglected me once.

"I haven't been paying close attention to your feelings, have I? You... must be so lonely waiting for me to get my work done... and yet, you take it in stride because you're proud to call yourself mine. How can I ever hope to call you mine forever if my hard work gets in the way of your self-esteem? I'm sorry. I need to do more to prove myself more to the Savior so she realizes your happiness is the key to our mission's success."

The last thing you wanted was for Ray to leave you behind to work himself to death. But, he was so caught up in trying to prove himself to her, to prove he was good enough to avoid the swing of her awful hammer to protect you, that there was no other way for him to see it, was there?

But, what could you do?

You squeezed his hand. You didn't want him to know how poorly you thought of yourself. His love made you feel at home, and you wanted to live in it forever, but it couldn't get rid of the shame you felt. That... was a different beast. Love could help you, it could hold you, but the love he gave you couldn't erase your problems... just as much as your love for him couldn't ease many of his own.

You knew it would take a long time before you ever loved yourself, if at all, but... to be denied love because of some insecurity was wrong. Everyone deserved to be loved. You wanted the same for Ray... just as much... because you were two peas in a pod. Neither of you knew the way to confess the truth, though. You knew he could see it, and you were certain he knew what you saw, too.

But, under the Savior's thumb... and the oppressive aura of Mint Eye, what more could you do that you haven't already done?

Without risking your lives?

You met his glimmering eyes before they could well up with tears, "As long as I'm with you, I know I'll be the happiest person I could ever be. I just want to be with you, Ray. That's all I want."

"I just want to be with you, too," he echoed your words like a prayer to whatever God might be listening. "Please, don't ever think the time I spend away from you is by choice. I have my mission and I promised my Savior I would see it to the end. But, once it's over... she promised me I would be able to spend every day with you from then on... I hate to ask this of you, but can you stay strong for just a little longer? Just a little longer... and I'll secure our paradise. I promise."

If this was the only way to be with him, you would accept it. Still, your quivering heart wanted everything he had to give and more. It wasn't fair, but what could you do? Your Paradise with Ray... would make the pain lessen in the end. Being with him in Mint Eye was good enough; Even if a part of you wondered if there was another way.

"I'll wait," you whispered.

"I'll come for you," he promised.

[strawurberries]

Sunset Kisses

Summary: Love is found and felt in simple places, and Vash can't help but admire you.

Authors Note: I haven't done writing for a fandom in a long time, but I hope everyone likes this :)

Warnings: None.

“It’s awfully beautiful today” he watched as a symphony of plump white clouds traveled across the sky, crossing the horizon in a flurry of deep, red tones. He couldn’t tear his eyes away no matter how hard he tried. It’s strange, he thought, how despite seeing this sight a thousand times he never got tired of it. Vaguely, he wondered what the sunset would’ve looked like on Earth. Would it have also been red? Orange? A tinge of yellow and pink? He didn’t know, but he liked to speculate. Maybe the sunset turned the sky green, he laughed a little to himself.

“Mhmm,” the woman beside him hummed, “it’s amazing.” She shuffled against the rock face, straightening her back. Her spine popped and she mumbled out a sorry and a laugh. He smiled and tried his hardest to focus back on the dancing colors of the sky, but they weren't as interesting anymore. So he decided to indulge in his desires, turning to face his companion. 

Oh, how the sublimity of the heavens paled in such grand comparison to her.

Words caught under his tongue, banging against his teeth to be let out yet he didn’t dare utter a sound in fear of ruining the moment. Beautiful, beautiful, he chanted in his head like a prayer. He supposed that this was the religion Wolfwood always talked about—the utter devoutness he felt in the very core of his being, the essence of his soul. If she had asked him to give her the world, he would’ve sunk to his knees and said, “yes ma’am”.

Instead of praise or love, he uttered: “sore?” They had both been traveling for days in the desert, nonstop and unrelenting. He had worried about her at first, before she smacked him upside the head and told him to keep on walkin’. Luckily though, for the night, they had found a small outcrop of rocks that provided enough shelter to rest in peace. Without so much as a word between them, they had sat down and quietly ate their rations and watched the sky before them. Now, though, he wished he hadn’t been so distracted by the allure of nature, and instead tossed himself head-first into the beauty of his lover.

“Extremely,” she grumbled, “I don’t know how you always seem fine. You’re crazy or something’, I swear.” She lightly hit him with her elbow, finishing off the last of her jerky.

He laughed. “Maybe a little bit,” he shuffled closer and set his head on hers, faithfully finding her fingers to intertwine with his. He hummed in delight and closed his eyes. Who needed a church or pastor to get along with God, when that holy little enigma rested in the cup of her palms?

“Lonely?” she asked, lips brushing against his forehead. 

“Not anymore,” he whispered.

She smiled, “good.”

He turned and looked at her, suddenly finding that all his confidence had vanished into the daylight. She tilted her head and he glanced at her lips before looking back up at her eyes—oh, those eyes. . . he wished he could stare into them all day, the colors and emotions so raw and perfect that he felt like he was defiling her with even a simple look. She had reassured him though, all those years ago, saying something along the lines of “if you’re corrupting me, then I sure wouldn’t mind seeing what hell is like alongside you.”

“Need somethin’?” she teased. 

He nodded. Yes, he thought, I want you. All of you, please. No matter how selfish that is. He didn’t say that though. He didn’t deserve her in her entirety. Ah. . . he paused. She wouldn’t like him thinking like that. He could practically hear her anger within his own mind, telling him to stop acting so “damn pathetic! You’re a wonderful man, and if you put yourself down again I’m going to praise you until you cry.”

She had done that once. The thought made a blush crawl up his neck.

“Maybe,” she drew out the word, curling her tongue in her mouth, “a kiss?”

He nodded rapidly, yes yes yes yes.

She laughed a little and grinned, “such a shy boy~”

“Don’t tease me,” he whined, leaning in to meet her lips halfway. Their noses touched and such a simple gesture made his very soul quiver in so much adoration he felt like he was dying.

She grabbed his neck and let his entire body slump into her’s, melting into the divinity of her touch. Yes, he thought, this is what religion is—he understood why humanity tries so hard to reach God everyday. He understood why they kept on pushing through the sin and pain, because this. . . God, this? It made every single moment worth it.

She pulled back and let their foreheads touch, “I love you.”

He wrapped his arms around her in a desperate, loving embrace, “I love you too,” more than you will ever know. How could he explain that his very heart was no longer in his chest, but within her hands. How could he explain that he felt when she gently brushed her fingers over the veins and flesh that kept his deepest secrets and pain, lazily appreciating his love with acceptance so unconditional that at first he thought it was fake?

“I love you,” he muttered again. The words failed to show the depths of his meaning.

“I know.”

He laughed a little, burying his face in her neck, “you could’ve said it back.”

“Alright you big baby, I loooove~ you.” She brushed her fingers through his hair, kissing the soft flesh below his ear, “is that better?” she whispered.

He nodded. 

God, he loved her.

[bookbitchx]

Hello hello here's a lil rant about SJMs writing of Rhys and it driving me crazy :) (CC3 spoilers, ACOTAR spoilers, minor TOG spoilers)

I agree with your post that questions whether or not SJM was being purposeful when she created the dynamics of the IC and their allies. I personally think in order to determine if SJM is doing this purposefully its important to take all her books into account (especially with the crossover in CC3 😭 And because SJM's only finished series currently is TOG, most of my comparisons will involve that series)

I suspect that the IC's emotional journeys are still very far from over. Especially Rhys and Feyre since they have been arguing off page (which is understandable given it wasnt their POVs) and SJM purposefully included Ember Quinlan defending Nesta in the bonus chapter. Now each of these characters have VERY strong personalities, but Ember in particular comparing rhys to someone who abused her is EXTREMELY important for us as readers to note for future books. And i really hope that its because SJM is finally gonna let him be held accountable for being an ass towards his mate's sister and for meddling so much in their relationship.

Rhysand in particular out of all of the IC has probably the most potential for a good redemption arc. Hes traumatized by his families deaths and UTM in canon and it would be safe to assume his childhood in Windhaven wasn't exactly pleasant. So giving us the Archeron POVs to unpack these centuries old characters is bound to get messy due to their own lack of experience, (but it makes for good fan interaction, i see you sjm).

Rhys definitely has better intentions than the Highlords before him did, but he still has some iffy behavior that stems from needing to have control over his surroundings likely due to traumatic events where he felt powerless to save those he cares for. But that doesn't excuse the fact that he has (accidentally) hurt more people while trying to keep control. He withheld life saving info from his mate bc he didnt want her to worry, he threatened and chased Nesta from the city because she shared the info he was hiding, he stole the book from Tarquin despite the fact that he likely would have helped rhys anyway, he locked his IC in Velaris to protect them (when Amren could've solo'd anyone in UTM 🤫). All of which to me sounds like could be control issues.

Now for who I think is the closest character we have to really compare to Rhys, the MC of TOG also struggled with control issues throughout the series. And her own trauma also mirrors Rhys' to an extent, especially her family life and the fact she was also stuck without fresh air while she was in Endovier. She made bad choices throughout her story, ones that affected the people she loved directly. But when her arc concluded, she was able to make healthier decisions for herself and loved ones despite that.

If SJM truly loves rhys as much as she claims, I don't think she wouldn't give him an opportunity to heal like the one she gave to Aelin. Especially after she hinted in CC3 that things are NOT always all fine and dandy in Feysand's relationship, Feyre herself said she was furious with the IC in acosf, and the two of them have yet to discuss how Rhys' actions utm affected her.

Realistically, I don't the highest hopes for Rhys' character arc unfortunately, but a girl can dream of a better ACOTAR 😂 I wanna believe that it'll be a great series when it concludes but im hesitant in putting my faith into SJM tbh 😔 Anyway, I hope you have a wonderful rest of ur day/ night and im so excited to hear your thoughts!

Heyy

I hope you're having a good day/night too!

You definitely make some good points.

I can kind of see similarities between Rhysand and Aelin, but at the same time, I don't.

Aelin, for all her faults and mistakes, had at least tried to do the right thing, no matter how misguided it was. She was selfish and reckless and ended up hurting people close to her, but she owned up to it. She was also young. She was, what like 19-20? Not an excuse, but a factor.

Rhysand, on the other hand... God, where do I even start?

It's weird because ACOTAR is so different from TOG in terms of writing, and I'm just talking about first person/third person POVs.

I honestly believe that SJM tried to make the series black and white. Tamlin Bad, Rhysand good. Eris bad, Mor good. Nesta bad, Feyre good... and accidentally ended up with a controversial mess.

I mean good for her. Publicity is publicity no matter if it's positive or negative (here we are talking about it), but yeah.

Rhysand was supposed to be this morally grey character, but she ended up making him a self praising, self-proclaimed king of feminism, most powerful High Lord with nothing to back it up.

○ He gives Feyre 'choices' only when the outcome is in his favor.

○ He claims he's all for women's freedom to choose whatever they want... yet he lets those Illyrian camps keep women as glorified slaves and praises the leaders for giving them 2 hours of training.

○ He's 'the most powerful High Lord' yet he can't control the HC, and the camp leaders barely respond to him.

○ He, Feyre, and the IC feel entitled to information that affects the whole of Prythian... for what I don't know.

○ I'm not even going to get into the acts he commits against his 'family' bc I would be here for a while.

○ He encouraged his mate to take her petty revenge on Tamlin, destroying his entire court in the process, innocent lives and homes, not to mention making Prythian more vulnerable to Hybern.

○ He got mad at Nesta for giving the mask to Bryce... isn't that what he did with the book? Except he stole it and destroyed Summer Court property while Nesta controls the mask.

You're right about his control issues, though, as was seen with Nesta every time she didn't listen to him. I can see how that would relate to the lack of control he felt UTM, but...

Did 50 years UTM getting SA affect him? Obviously. I don't disregard the trauma he went through, but I also don't turn a blind eye to the things he did UTM.

He assaulted his mate with no excuse. He could've easily left her in that cell instead of making her wear a napkin and get drunk against her will. Amarantha didn't even care when he paraded her around and only got mad when she saw them kissing.

The children of the Winter Court that were killed, I don't know why it was brushed off with no consequences because who else would have done it? Daematis are extremely rare, and somehow, there was another one powerful trapped under the mountain, but he doesn't know who? Another Daemati who was working for Amarantha and didn't call out Rhysand on the Claire Beddor lie?

God, this turned into a rant, I know, and I'm sorry, lol.

I personally don't see a redemption arc satisfying enough happening or at all really. I read somewhere that Rhysand was created after SJM's husband Josh... yk where I'm going with this.

Anyway, if you sat through this, thanks!

[justafewsmallsteps]

Inuyasha rare pair of your choice:: 29. A kiss ..."as a promise"

There were many things Kikyou was forced to lock away during her life; so many feelings she had to bury deep within herself in order to fulfill her duty as the Keeper of the Shikon no Tama. There was no room for self-doubt or sorrow just as there was no allowance for real happiness or whimsy. 

Purity. It was her prison in life. 

But she was no longer alive. 

Walking the earth as a phantom, her partial soul confined to a clay body, Kikyou was no longer shackled to the expectations that had once weighed her down. In her death had been release. 

Freedom. 

All the freedom in the world to do as she pleased, act as she pleased, feel as she pleased. 

For the first time in her existence, she could experience the fullness of life as it had been denied to her before. But to live a normal life was as unattainable a wish as holding an ocean. All she could do now was throw herself into the waters, allow herself to bask in it without fear of drowning. (She was already dead, after all.) 

She was as much unbound to her duty as she was to the rest of society. 

Free to hate. 

Free to love.

Even her idea of love used to be confined to what was allowed. What was appropriate. A husband and children and domestic subservience. Those were society’s standards for a woman. A part of her stilled mourned the loss, but a greater part felt a great triumph to escape it. Now, Kikyou no longer cared for their rules or ethics, for their acceptance or respect. How fickle and selfish were their desires and affections. 

But she could be fickle and selfish too now. She abandoned propriety. She captured what life she could to sustain herself, threw herself into a revenge-fueled quest for justice, beckoned the half-demon to whom she almost gave her heart and left him without explanation. She didn’t need him as a lover anymore. She didn’t need any man. 

And so when it wasn’t a man who piqued her interest, Kikyou no longer buried the feeling, nor did she feel any shame. It wasn’t even difficult for her to wonder why the Wind Sorceress was so captivating to her. After all, she had an affinity for those who craved freedom as she did. A demon. An incarnation of her murderer. Being a woman was laughably inconsequential in comparison. 

And because Kikyou was free to do as she wished, she let herself lean into her curiosity without trepidation. 

For her part, Kagura had the power to animate the dead, but she had absolutely no control over the resurrected miko. Kikyou was an entirely different existence, and one that Kagura approached with caution. While Kikyou always made quick work of Naraku’s wasps, she allowed the Kagura to survey her without care. Why? 

It wasn’t out of fear. If she truly wanted to, the priestess was more than capable enough to overpower the demoness. All it would take was an arrow or two, at least to send her away. But she was able to get near enough, closer and closer until the sorceress practically sat in her shadow. 

(It was oddly reminiscent of another time and another love; a whole lifetime ago.) 

The conversations came with time. Two even-headed women with winter etched into their veins. It turned out they had more in common than they’d expected. A dislike of crowds, a low tolerance for foolishness, and a vice-like grip on their desire to be free. So it came as no surprise that their mutual attraction was largely fueled by an innate, burning streak of rebellion—a delicious defiance against the half-demon that threatened Kagura’s heart and desired Kikyou’s. 

Kikyou could give her affection and time to anyone she chose, and she chose what he saw as his servant. Not him. Never him. 

Their companionship was a secret. Hidden behind barriers and nightfall, Kikyou let herself give in to her own desires. Light grazes eventually had them wrapped up together, and it was under a moonless night that Kikyou stole the first kiss. 

It felt as scandalous as it did liberating—another part of herself that she’d stamped out awoke; rose from amongst the ashes she was formed by. And Kikyou laughed in the wake of its discovery. Oh, how she’d been so blind. All those days staring at the beautiful girls who got to dress up, and she had desperately believed that she wanted to be them. And certainly that was part of it, but it hadn’t been the full story, had it? So she kissed the Wind Sorceress again, and again, and when she felt Kagura relent and respond, it was a triumph. The fire of rebellion gave way to a different sort of heat—the spark of elation, the warmth of fondness—and they both ended up smiling. 

But their circumstances weren’t lost on either woman. 

“What does this mean for us?” Kagura asked, a hand on Kikyou’s hip. 

“Does it have to mean anything in particular?” 

The demoness smirked. “No.” Did she want it to? It was difficult to say. “But I will have to leave in the morning.” 

“What will you tell him?” 

“That I need to keep an eye on you more,” she replied deviously. “That I have no idea what you’re thinking or planning.” 

Another kiss. They were smart women, knowing how to manipulate and keep their secrets close. 

“So you’ll be back.” Kikyou said. A request more than a statement or question. 

“If he permits it,” she grated. It was the best she could do. Kagura was a caged bird, as Kikyou had once been. Even off to roam, she must return back to her keeper.

Gently, Kikyou traced Kagura’s cheek, studying the firestorm of resentment and defiance in her red eyes, so different from her own and yet like a mirror of their hearts. The priestess found herself drawn in by the color, eventually coming to hover over rouged lips. “I’ll destroy him,” she promised with quiet certainty. 

The romanticism of it pulled the sorceress in. In a hot breath she murmured, “I’ll let you,” before closing the gap between them. 

[cocogrrrl]

so ive been kinda down in the dumps and that one angsty thing you wrote for stan about the reader questioning their relationship with stan really got me 😭😭

was wondering if ya could write stan with a reader with depression and shi (personally for me i take prozac and attend therapy sessions ykyk) like that if ya can. probably would be really angsty (or bittersweet?) since stans got his own problems he has yet to deal with💀

selfish

you love stan and he loves you. there's an uncomfortable thought telling you that you're pulling him down, though.

stan marsh x gn!reader cw: bittersweet (?), yn relies on stan as emtional support, also yn is unhealthily in love with their bf wc: 689

an: hiii! i feel like this is a little all over the place and i really dont know if this fits the bill, but ya huhu i hope u like it!

The night is cold, as it often was in the small town. Tonight, however, its harsh temperatures really bit. Luckily, your boyfriend also doubled as a human blanket. It’s a good thing he’s almost always awfully warm. His regular body temperature alarmed you, thinking that he had a fever. He, however, always felt alright.

You two had been spending your time watching some shitty movie neither of you have heard before for the shits and giggles. It was a common occurrence for you two. At this point, you would consider yourselves bad movie connoisseurs. If it doesn’t look like it was made with a budget of two dollars, it’s not worth watching.

His arms were lazily wrapped around you, and you felt your body melting into his. His breath was warm on your neck. Your legs were intertwined, no, entangled with his. You savored quiet moments like this. Everything didn’t exist for you at this moment. Only Stan did.

You felt something bore itself in your brain, though, as your gaze was focused on Stan. You tried to push whatever thought it was away, but you couldn’t.

Were you selfish for wanting Stan to love you while you didn’t even know how to love yourself? It feels like you were taking him for granted sometimes, honestly.

You felt lucky and grateful that you had him, yes, but you wondered why did he even choose you. There are moments where you question if he even loves you. The answer must be a yes, right? If it wasn’t, then what even is the point of being with someone who’s more trouble than anything?

Why do you have to question these types of things anyways? You must be a horrible person. How bad of a person do you have to doubt someone as wonderful as Stan? Stan often made it a point to show you that he loves you, even when it was difficult for him to do so.

You aren’t quite sure how this whole love thing works. Hell, you didn’t even know how your feelings worked. How are you supposed to navigate something that may be even bigger than you?

You find it inspiring how kind and determined he still is. After all the things he’s gone through, he still holds a heart of gold. Sure, it’s somewhat tainted, but who’s to say that it isn’t beautiful? He is sparkling, gleaming. You seemed to pale in comparison.

“Stan?” You called, burying yourself in the crook of his neck.

“Yesss?” He smiled, pulling your face to look at his. You two had some to drink earlier, and it was obvious that the alcohol was starting to kick in. He had the dopiest grin on his face.

Would he ever get tired of you? Sure, he would. Eventually. You’re a tiring person. He’ll learn to grow out of you one day. That’s why you learned how to savor moments like these when everything seems to be alright.

“I think I’m still trying to figure things out,” you admitted. This all felt a little easier since he was drunk. The chance of him forgetting this eased the worry in your mind.

The meaning of your words was purposely left ambiguous. He could fill it in with whatever meaning he wanted though. Besides, did it matter deeply to him? He is drunk. It’s not like this will matter in the morning.

Deep down, you feel bad for Stan. He’s already going through a lot, and you already have an idea of how everything’s going to end. Despite that, you continue lying to yourself that things will go great. Stan’s just here, seemingly unaware of the wreck that is in your mind. 

“Mhm?” He hummed, drawing out his ‘M’s.

As he started to cover your face in kisses, you continued. “But I do know one thing.”

Though he may know that you’ve been thinking of these things, it won’t be confirmed to him. For now, one source of your guilt shall remain a secret.

“That is?”

‘I think you are my dream.’ No, that’s too weird. You might just freak him out.

“You’re so amazing.”

[yakuzacanons]

Please, more Majima content 😭 I want some age gap headcanons where the reader is 22 and he's 42, making people around them question why the young lady is with a man twice her age. Maybe they're walking together in public and Majima overhears some judgemental and nasty comments made about him and the reader comforts him through it because he gets uncomfortable and self-conscious 🥺

Ahhhh I love this, as someone in a similar age range in comparison to Majima and him being my absolute favorite, this idea makes my brain go brrrrr in the best way. Thank you sweet anon, headcanon is under the cut, hope you like it! It's a long one so I apologize in advance but I had so much fun making it hehe.

Majima will honestly never understand why you picked him. He'll always be asking himself how he got so lucky. At the same time he'll also wonder if he really deserves it. He will try not to let it bother him but it's always something in the back of his mind.

The most common comments are things like "Isn't he a little too old for her?" or "What's she doing with a man like that?". You get some weird glances from strangers. This makes Majima tighten his grip around your hand or around your waist, an obvious tell that he's trying not to let it get to him.

He will try to not engage in physical violence as a response because he knows that's not the solution and he doesn't want you to see him as just some violent beast. Instead, he'll spit out some retort before grabbing your hand and briskly walking away, clearly still upset.

He will try to not bring it up to you whenever he feels this way. Majima already feels that he's a bit of a burden in more ways than one: his age, his job, even the fact that he's missing an eye feels burdensome in his mind. How could someone ever love a man like this? Secretly, he worries that all these factors will drive you away one day so he doesn't want to add fuel to that fire by bringing you down with how he feels about the age gap.

Eventually, his feelings will boil over. You'll find him looking dejected, probably smoking out the window, unable to sleep. If you ask what's going on, he'll immediately know that you know and that's when he'll break.

Majima won't necessarily cry, but he'll sigh deeply and say something like "I just want ya to be happy. Sometimes I wonder if I can give ya the happiness ya deserve. Maybe I'm just bein' selfish... keeping ya all to myself." He'll turn to hide his face in embarrassment, ashamed of how he feels.

Once he feels your arms wrap around him, holding him tight with your face pressed against his back, his heart will just melt. It's true, he does think he's being selfish. Sometimes he wonders if everyone else is right and if you'd be better off with someone younger, someone your age. But damn if it didn't feel good to have you right there next to him. In that exact moment, his worries just wash away. He feels like he can do anything, be anyone. That's just the effect you have on him. Your presence alone makes him feel like a man reborn.

He'll close his eyes and exhale before putting out his cigarette and turning around to face you. Regardless of how you choose to console him, he'll still ask if you're sure this is what you want. Secretly, Majima yearns the most to be wanted and loved. Once reassured he'll just pull you in and hold you tightly, so close to him that it's almost suffocating.

The truth is Majima can't stand the thought of letting you go. The Mad Dog has been so independent by necessity for so long that he's terrified of letting that guard down, letting anyone in, needing anyone at all. You changed that and it feels so good that he's scared to lose it, scared to lose you. Your tender reassurance calms him, it puts the Mad Dog to sleep, and for once, Majima feels like he can breathe deeply and fully.

All those years ago, Majima swore he'd live his life for him, do things his way. When you came into his life, it was the first time since Makoto that he felt he really had something to lose. That's when the thoughts of other people started to get to him. Truthfully, you love his fearlessness the most. You admire his boldness, his loyalty, how he never stands down, the way he tries everything once and does anything for those he loves. You'll remind him of this, reminding him that it doesn't matter what anyone thinks. Age gap or no age gap, you're his and he's yours.

[mins-fins]

the morning star — seok matthew

is it weakness? or is he lovesick? matthew listens to the warnings, but for some reason, he can't stop staring at those pretty eyes.

tags :: seok matthew x m!reader , reader is horrible , he's quite literally evil , angel-devil comparisons , they have insane tension , matthew pov , matthew is horribly in love , angel: matthew devil: reader

lee y/n is a bad person.

matthew knows that. he knows it very well, and it's not because all of his friends say so, it's because of how unrealistically horrifying he is. he seems to just have this presence that bothers people, and matthew gets it, because he almost always shivers when he's around.

y/n doesn't care about anyone else, and he doesn't keep it a secret, either. he's self-absorbed, selfish, simply belittles people for fun. matthew wonders, how does someone find enjoyment in intimidating others?

matthew will never get it.

maybe that makes him stupid or something, but he doesn't care, there's nothing you could say to convince him that being unnecessarily cruel to people for fun is okay.

so why does he feel something unexplained towards said cruel boy?

matthew knows his self worth, he shouldn't be looking at someone like that with so much love, but y/n.. for some reason, draws him in, like a magnet, he simply can't look away.

he's not in love, he can't be, because why would a person like matthew love a person like y/n? he's a person who hurts other people for fun, what would matthew ever gain from loving a person like that?

but if that's not the case, why does he stare so lovingly at someone so heartless? evil? what words could he even describe him with?

y/n isn't someone deserving of love, especially not matthew's love of all people.

yet, matthew felt unsaid feelings towards him.

"is that a devil necklace?"

the question slips past matthew's lips before he can even think about it. y/n looks up at him, his thumb continuing to click his pen, which is the only noise in the currently silent room.

why is seok matthew himself, sitting across from lee y/n in the library, asking him the most random of questions?

he doesn't even know himself.

"yep" y/n answers simply, he brings his hand up to it, fiddling with his necklace for a moment.

matthew narrows his eyes, humming. "you know, lucifer means morning star in latin".

"really?" y/n asks sarcastically, continuing to click his pen as he stares at matthew. he barely lets a smile come to his lips, just observes matthew, as if he's memorizing each of his features, like he could trace them with his pen.

"you know a lot seok matthew".

"internet researching is my hobby".

that gets a chuckle out of y/n, but matthew can't stop staring at his eyes. his eyes, so dark, empty, but they were so beautiful, did the prettiest of things have to be so insufferable?

"maybe i should buy you an angel necklace, then we'd match".

he says those words in the fakest tone matthew can think of, and the smile of his face grows as he sees matthew's glare. he hates how pretty he is, he hates how his eyes look majestical. he hates that he would absolutely kiss him right now if he could.

"no thank you".

"you don't want to match? my feelings are hurt".

"i hope they stay hurt".

"how cruel of you seok matthew" ironic that he says that, he's probably the cruelest person that matthew has ever met.

"i learned from the best".

matthew knows y/n doesn't care, but as he sees him smile, he feels his heart melt.

matthew hates that he's nice, because he knows y/n doesn't deserve that, but he can't help it.

y/n will clearly take advantage of that.

"you look pretty".

that compliment is genuine, which is a surprise for y/n. matthew shouldn't be staring at him with hearts in his eyes, but he is, he pretty much does it unconsciously, like he doesn't have any control over his body.

y/n hums as he puts the necklace around his neck, clicking his tongue as he does so. "told you, it'd look nice".

how did matthew get convinced into this? he remembers just cursing out y/n in his mind a day prior, why would he let him buy the necklace?

it feels as if he's in a state of trance, he can't stop staring, he hates that he can't stop staring. since when was y/n so mesmerizing? the y/n that he hates with a burning passion. why does he feel so in love? so appreciated? why does he embrace such a cruel person like this?

"i.." he begins, looking down at the angel necklace which had been put around his neck. "yeah, it's super pretty, where'd you get it?"

"that's a secret".

matthew hates everything about him. his stupid smile, his stupidly pretty eyes, his stupidly pretty voice, his stupidly pretty everything— he's so horrible, he's not who matthew should love. matthew should love someone better, someone empathetic, someone sweet, someone who isn't a complete devil.

matthew was an angel, someone who was the opposite of y/n. he was sweet, empathetic, and giving, he didn't only care about himself, his eyes shouldn't even be focused on y/n right now.

y/n is like the devil, someone who only cares for himself. he's selfish, lacks empathy, and sees himself as the most important out of everyone else.

so why is matthew so drawn to him?

"what is wrong with you?" he whispers. y/n isn't surprised, many people ask him that, but he's just having much more fun with the question being asked by matthew.

he seems a little obsessed.

"i have no idea what you mean".

"god! your so insufferable! your horrible, you don't care about anyone else, your so selfish, and you just— enjoy watching people suffer! you piss me off!"

y/n raises an eyebrow, unaffected. "if i piss you off so much, why do you like me?"

"i don't like you".

"really? lying's a sin matthew, you shouldn't be doing that".

"i don't fucking care about sins!"

"cursing is also a sin, profanity is heavily frowned upon".

matthew takes a deep breath, having to calm himself down so that he doesn't just punch y/n in his pretty ass face. "you— i hate you".

"no, you love me".

matthew wishes he had a good rebuttal for that phrase, but he doesn't, unfortunately. y/n just smiles in victory, crossing his arms and putting on his sweater.

"don't miss me too much sweetheart".

matthew frowns, looking down at the necklace gifted to him as he begins fiddling with it.

matthew shouldn't love someone like lee y/n.

but unfortunately, he does.

AUTHORS NOTE — i have no school today and i wrote this randomly 😭 i barely had any ideas but matthew omg i love him sm <3

[loosesodamarble]

Hi senpai it’s 🖤  anon can you answer a few from 🫶🦀🫣😑🌙💧✏️🐕 for faustsele and 💔for Nacsele

🖤 anon~! I truly can rely on you to be a curious one! Thank youuuu! So many questions that I just got to get to answering!

……….

Faustsele (a.k.a. Nacht x Josele x Morgen)

🫶: Who ended up falling first? Which of them actually realized that they’d fallen in love first?

Morgen definitely was the one to fall in love first. I always imagine Morgen being a bit of a romantic, as well as airheaded and naive at times. It wouldn't have taken long for Morgen to fall in love with Josele. It just took him a while longer to recognize his affection as romantic rather than platonic.

I imagine Nacht to be the type to recognize a romantic attraction as soon as he'd fallen in love. So once his love fully developed, he knew he was hopelessly in love. He fell for Josele after Morgen did, but he recognized his feelings first.

For Josele, she was the last to fall overall. And while she recognized her feelings for Morgen before he realized his love for her, Nacht beat her to recognizing the feelings of romantic love. Actually, I should note that Josele realized she had a crush on Nacht and Morgen at the same time, because both twins were giving her similar butterflies in the stomach!

🦀: How did they handle realizing they were in love? Embarrassed? Nervous? Mad?

Nacht was the worst when it came to handling his feelings. He saw himself as pure evil in comparison to Morgen's pure good. Josele wasn't perfectly good like Morgen, but she was world kinder and better than Nacht. She was too good for Nacht to love in his eyes. So Nacht worried, feared his love would hurt Josele, and chose to bury his feelings. Not that he was all that good at it. He was only hurting himself.

Morgen's realization is accompanied by embarrassment but also joy. He's someone so full of love and knowing just how he loves Josele gets him excited. She's one of his dearest friends and she's done so much for him; he's happy his heart chose Josele. The embarrassment comes in from wondering about how to approach confessing to Josele. There was also hesitation when he noticed Nacht's crush on Josele. If Nacht admitted to liking Josele, Morgen definitely would've stepped down and let Nacht pursue her instead.

Josele got nervous when she recognized her feelings for Nacht and Morgen. She fell in love with both of her best friends; how can she not be anxious. And while she doesn't care to think about the difference in their classes, the rest of society isn't the same. Ultimately, she did embrace the fact that she loved Morgen and Nacht. Though she had to hide her love for Nacht since he always insisted that the two of them were only friends and Josele didn't want to push her romantic feelings onto him.

🫣: Who stumbled the most with their feelings around the other? How much did the other person notice?

Nacht, obviously. He fought to keep his love for Josele hidden for 20+ years. That didn't stop him from being gentle to her and clumsily showing that he cared. But he just couldn't come out and say what he felt directly. Josele would've sensed love from Nacht but not even with her magic could she distinguish platonic and romantic love. So in her trust and stupidity, she always trusted Nacht when he said he liked/loved her as just a friend.

He was worse about it but Josele stumbled with her affection too. Her touches would linger and she let Nacht tease her too much. But Nacht never saw the way she felt because he didn't believe she could love him and told himself she belonged with Morgen.

Speaking of Morgen! He did see the way Josele and Nacht felt but he never pushed for anything to be done about it because... If they weren't going to say anything on their own, he didn't want to force them to do anything. And... A selfish part of him wanted to have Josele for himself, to have something Nacht didn't since Nacht had things Morgen didn't have (skill with magic, their parents' favor, etc.).

😑: How easily do they get jealous and how do they handle it?

Morgen and Nacht both don't deal with jealousy that often. In-universe, Josele is on the plain side, not being a stand-out beauty in Clover. So people, or at least the noble circles Morgen and Nacht were surrounded by, didn't really pay attention to her much.

Morgen never really had to worry about someone else coming along and stealing Josele away (Nacht was his only real competition but well...). Although, Josele's friendships with William and Yami did get under Morgen's skin a little. But that's because those two could understand Josele's struggles with things like being low on cash or being bored of chores. (William had been away from life as a peasant for half his life at that point but I'm sure some sensibilities from living some of his life poor persisted.) Morgen was jealous of being unable to understand those parts of Josele's life despite growing up beside her. (You know, kinda like Morgen being frustrated that Yami understood Nacht better.) Whenever jealousy over that got strong, Morgen would quietly pout for a little - a couple hours at least and a few days at most - and think it over. He wasn't going to control Josele's relations but he needed to find a way to convey his troubled feelings.

When Nacht finally is able to be in a relationship, he also doesn't have to deal with jealousy in a romantic sense. Most people aren't attracted to Josele and her interest isn't caught easily either. But like with Morgen, Nacht would find himself jealous over her friendships. He was away for years and Josele made lots of friends in the meantime (largely within the Bulls but still). Nacht, having spent so long denying it, gets territorial about Josele's attention/affection once he has it. If he thinks he sees anyone showing interest in Josele, he immediately inserts himself in the situation and makes sure the "competition" backs off. He'll then cling Josele and be extra snippy with other people for the rest of the day.

Josele is the one who has to deal with jealousy the most. Morgen was considered the perfect man so I bet lots of folks tried to approach him. Even though Morgen had eyes only for Josele, that wouldn't stop her from feeling insecure. Sometimes, it was jealousy she felt and she'd make sure to take Morgen aside and make it clear she wanted his attention. Other times though, Josele wasn't jealous but rather worried that Morgen would finally see someone "better" than her and leave her for that new person. If that was the insecurity eating at her, Josele wouldn't cling but rather get distant and gloomy. She'd mope for a few days before talking to Morgen (unless Morgen approached her in which case she'd spill as soon as he asked).

With Nacht, Josele's reaction to jealousy is largely the same. She'll take him aside and demand his attention rather than risk him giving it to anyone else. There's less worry about Nacht leaving her, not for anyone "better" but just leaving her. When that anxiety rears its head, Josele will run to Nacht for the reassurance that he'll stay with her. She really is worried about losing her partner again, whether by death or them just walking away.

🌙: Who has to force the other into having healthy sleeping habits? How well does that go for em?

Of the three of them, Morgen has the best, most consistent sleeping habits.

When with Josele, he often begged Josele not to rise so early and stay in bed a bit longer. For actual sleep, or cuddles, or... you know. Sometimes she'd concede. And the rest of the time, she'd insist on slipping away to watch the sunrise and do an early morning workout. Staying up late wasn't a problem at least. Unless work got in the way, they went to sleep roughly at the same time and at a reasonable hour. If Josele had trouble sleep, Morgen would sing her to sleep. In the rare case that Morgen had insomnia, Josele would buy some lavender-chamomile tea for him to drink before bed.

Then Josele becomes the sleep manager for Nacht. He's consistently staying up until midnight and considers that early for turning in. Falling asleep at 3 AM only to wake at 7 AM is not uncommon for Nacht and that's horrifying to Josele. At first, she tried giving Nacht the lavender-chamomile tea that worked for Morgen. Nothing. She then suggests Nacht take prescription medication to help him sleep. She resorts to using her raw physical strength to just hold him while on top of the bed until he gives in and turns in early.

💧: How well do they comfort each other when they’re upset?

Morgen wasn't the best at noticing if Josele is in need of comfort; he didn't fail to notice but he didn't always clock it right away. But the second he realized his beloved was in need of care, he was right there. He was a master of providing comfort. Always willing to hear Josele out, gently coaxing answers from her. And when he knew what was wrong, he easily found the right words to soothe her and let her know how he'd change to put her at ease, if he needed to change at all. If she didn't talk though, he still gave her reassurance. Morgen also gave Josele all the physical touch she needed to feel grounded. Whether it be kisses, cuddles, or simply a shoulder to lean on, he was there.

Nacht isn't nearly as good as comforting Josele as Morgen was but he still does his best. He's more perceptive than Morgen was, but that's mostly due to watching Morgen pick up on Josele's downer moods and learning from his example. Anyways, Nacht is best at simply giving his presence to Josele when she needs it. He's bad at communication and finding the right words to make things better (it took him months to not only find the courage to face Josele but to know what to say during his apology after Morgen's death). Nacht will hold Josele, rub her back, comb his fingers through her hair, maybe hum a song. His comfort is a lot quieter, a little hesitant on his part. But he truly gives his all to let Josele have the environment she needs to let her negative emotions out.

Josele's much quicker to notice when her men feel down. Maybe it's her Emotion Magic or maybe it's her raw perceptive abilities, but she notices. She would approach and do a quick check to see how they are and if they're receptive to have her there right away. Because if they need space, she wants to give them space. But if they want her presence, she'll be right there. She, like Nacht, is more about comforting through physicality. She's put her fingers to Morgen's lips to stop him from talking himself in circles. She'll hug Nacht from behind and place both of their hands over his heart so they can feel his heartbeat. She's pretty good with words too, but she really does focus on physical comfort.

✏️: How canon compliant are you with them? Do you stick pretty close or just have fun cause it’s your ship so no one can tell you what to do other wise?

Oh not canon compliant and I love it!

Josele's friendship with Nacht and Morgen gave them reason to hang out with each other growing up. They end up being closer as kids than they likely were in canon. Still, they drift apart and the fact that they were close as kids makes the rift more painful for the twins.

Nacht's also given a bit more motivation for his spy mission in Spade aside from simply investigating the presence of devils. With Josele and his feelings for her around, he has a reason to investigate Spade's devils and knowledge of devils to find a way to break her Locked Heart curse or, better yet, forcibly terminate the contract Josele has with her devil.

There's also a number of changes to the timing of some canon events.

In canon, Morgen dies before Charlotte's 18th birthday. I explain myself here. But due to the Faust family having to deal with Morgen and Josele planning their wedding, the day of Nacht summoning Lucifugus gets pushed back closer to November. So Charlotte's curse and infatuation with Yami happens before Morgen's death due to me using Morgsele to play around with the timeline.

By far my favorite break in the timeline is after the Elf Reincarnation Arc. Asta finds out Josele has a devil contract at that point and asks for her help in dealing with his own devil. Josele helps Asta formalize his contract with Liebe, meaning Asta and Liebe have SO MUCH MORE TIME to refine their Devil Unite. But also, Nacht checks in on the squad and when he sees that Asta's figured out Devil Unite, he makes himself known to Asta (and the Bulls as a whole) to take over training Asta. It'll make the eventual battle in Spade easier, but also Nacht intends to have Asta use anti-magic on Josele and remove her curse that way. Nacht ends up bouncing between Spade and Clover to make sure things are as prepped as they can be. Things still don't go smoothly when Spade attacks and Clover has to get Yami and William back, but the time restrictions on Asta and Liebe's Devil Unite aren't as narrow at least.

Also things with Paladin Morgen get... FUN. Jack doesn't die. But also Yami's hand gets totaled by Morgen early on. And I mentioned in an earlier post that Josele will be beside Nacht to finish of Morgen (in one version of events; a Paladins Live!AU rotates in my head constantly).

🐕: Do they have any pets together? If one of them had a pet from before their relationship how well does the pet get along with their partner? Do they have the pets approval or does said pet sit in between them and their partner any time they try to make a move?

The devil quartet is right thereeeeee! Of course they play the part of pets! 😂 They don't apply to Morgen x Josele unfortunately. All the pet fun is for Nacht x Josele!

The Bremen Devils give all the approval in the world for Josele and Nacht to be together. They've been in Nacht's head for years. They know how much he positively adores her from the depths of his heart. No way they sit between Nacht and Josele. Really, the devils sometimes have to push Nacht to be more affectionate with Josele. Nacht even wonders if they like her more than him./lh

…

Nacsele (a.k.a. Nacht x Josele)

💔: Do they have any previous relationship experience from past partners? How does it reflect on how they handle their current one?

It's very obvious that Josele has past relationship experience from her time with Morgen. How it reflects on her relationship with Nacht, it means she's the more confident one when it comes to PDA. She also is much better at communicating with Nacht. Sometimes she keeps things to herself, but generally makes it clear when things bother or lets Nacht know when she needs space. But her experience with Morgen also makes Josele afraid. She lost Morgen and so she's afraid to lose Nacht; him being the self-sacrificing type makes it harder on her. Josele's love for Morgen is so deeply a part of her that she gets worked up hearing Nacht call her the same pet names that Morgen used for her.

As for Nacht, he attempted to date around, men and women alike, in order to forget his feelings for Josele. He couldn't really commit though. He went on one date, maybe two at most, with strangers. He met people he knew were attractive and felt he had chemistry with, but ultimately always remembered his love for Josele and walked away from any other potential relationship. Nacht knows how to go on dates which helps him plan dates when he's with Josele, but when it comes to communicating as a partner, he struggles. He's very used to lying and hiding things to not be a burden on others.

[chinesegal]

I've got an idea to write a fantasy story featuring an abusive relationship which portrays the abuser in a sympathetic light. I took inspiration from a certain adult animated series which I felt portrayed abuse with no nuance, which I want to correct.There are two fairy folk royals-Brendan and Brynhild-who are in an arranged diplomatic marriage. Brendan is the great-grandnephew of queen Titania while Brynhild is a princess from a svartalf kingdom in Svartalfheim.Their royal houses were at war for centuries before making peace, and to seal the alliance their parents decided to marry their children. The marriage comes with a magical pact which stipulates that both parties have to appear like a perfect and happy couple in the eyes of fairy society.Unfortunately, Brendan and Brynhild turned out to be incompatible personality-wise, and both are essentially trapped in a loveless marriage where each has to live a lie, but they deal with it differently. While Brynhild is introverted and withdrawn, Brendan is a social butterfly-gregarious, affable and loves parties, though he uses them as a distraction from how lonely he feels, being unable to share his true feelings with anyone.From Brynhild's perspective she got the rougher end of the deal-she has to live outside of her home-realm Svartalfheim and was forced to adapt to a very different culture and environment. Her husband's cheerfulness grates on her nerves and she resents his outward happiness, so she takes it out on him through outburst of verbal and physical abuse.Later on, Brendan abducts two human children, replacing them with changelings to keep as company. He erased their memories of their human lives and made them believe that he is their father. He does feel real affection for them, but views them more like how a human would view a puppy than people.The children are the real protagonists of the story which will deal with them discovering their past, regaining their memories and trying to escape, aided by Brynhild who plans to use them to get rid of Brendan.Brendan and Brynhild were sort of stand-ins for Stella and Stolas from Helluva Boss, but if they were better-written in my opinion.The point I want to make is that both are massively flawed people who are that way because of the toxic environment.In my opinion, writing an abuser as a sympathetic character is a challenge because it challenges you to confront the idea that people who've done harmful things are still people and not monsters, which is something I feel is very mature, in contrast to Stella's characterization. As for Brendan, he's sympathetic but a horrible person too from a certain perspective, but for an understandable reason.He's selfish and cares the most about his own happiness without noticing what anyone else feels, has poor understanding of boundaries but isnt actively cruel so hes still more sympathetic than his wife.I want to add a touch of complexity to their abusive marriage by establishing that Brynhild has a more human sense of morality than Brendan. She is horrified with the idea of kidnapping children and brainwashing them, and genuinely wants to help the kids, not only out of a desire to get rid of her husband but true compassion.While sympathetic abusive characters have been done before, for example Beatrice Butterman from Bojack Horseman, I wonder if my choice to make Brynhild more morally upright in comparison to Brendan would be too much.I want to ask if its possible to write a story with an abuser who is not only shown in a sympathetic light, but also has good reasons for disliking their victim yet not being abuse apologism?I don't plan on excusing Brynhild's abuse itself, instead I intend to portray someone who is coping badly in a terrible situation.

[xgummibearx]

Sick day pt2

Aizawa x (F) reader 

Intro: So, ya’ll really liked this one! I have had some requests for a part two so here you go! I was hoping to have this for Valentine’s day but you know what? Not everyone is able to celebrate that day so let’s work around that.  summary: After taking care of Aizawa, he wants to make things up to you. 

Warnings: None, tooth rotting FLUFF. 

---

“You sure you will be okay?” (--) asked, puling up to the dorms. Aizawa nodded, undoing his seatbelt.

“Yes, I’m still a little under the weather...Nezu has me practically court ordered to rest for the rest of the week.” He sighed. “All Might is covering home room for the time being so I’m gonna have to deal with the aftermath of him spoiling them...” Aizawa added, looking a little extra unamused at the thought. (--) smirked. 

“Well, I think you’re a little tough one them sometimes...you have an amazing class.” She smiled gently. “Those kids have a lot of respect for you, you should be proud.” Shota bowed his head politely as he opened the door. 

“You have a point there...but still, if these are going to be heroes they need to know now what’s at stake, the pressure will only increase as they move forward.” (--) reached over to take his hand. 

“I think you forget how much these kids have gone through.” She turned her head a little, trying to meet his eyes. He looked so lost in thought, and even he was too tired to hide the worry in his face. “Those kids have seen more in their first semester as students than most heroes see on patrol in their first year.��� He chuckled. 

“You got a point there too.” He looked over. “It’s selfish but...I suppose my own worries cloud my judgement.” Shouta got out of the car and stretched a little. “I guess I really do need the time off.” 

(--) couldn’t help but laugh, starting up her car. “No one needs this more than you.” She waved to him, pulling away to leave him staring at the back of the car. 

---

The weather was chilly, and (--) could see the students whispering. Love was in the air, and valentine’s day was approaching. Pink and red were everywhere, even some of the teachers were talking about plans for the big day. (--) however, didn’t have much on her mind as the day drew nearer, and she eventually found herself alone in her apartment that night. 

She poured herself some tea, gently inhaling the fragrance as she wrapped herself up in a warm knitted cardigan. Soft music played from her laptop as she finished her tea and fell asleep in her cozy living room. Peaceful, and content. 

It had been nearly a week since she had helped Aizawa in the hallway when she heard a somewhat familiar, hesitant soft tap on her office door. She didn’t look up from her notes just yet, spinning around in her chair. “Midoriya, I am afraid that Recovery Girl isn’t due back from her break for a few more minutes but I’m sure I can-” She looked up, raising her brows. It wasn’t the familiar sight of Izuku but rather, Shouta. “Oh! Hello!” She smiled, putting down her notebook. A small flutter of excitement rippled in her stomach. Why was she so excited to see him? She wondered for a moment but it was swiftly forgotten as he stepped in, holding something behind his back. “You know I admit I am relived to report that I have not seen Midoriya for a few weeks now, I think it might be a new record.” He chuckled softly. 

“He’s come a long way.” Shouta shifted to the side, still not revealing what was behind his back. He swallowed the lump in his throat, the now likely crumpled roses behind his back felt clammy from his sweaty palms. “Speaking of your...well, remedial skills...” He tried to stand a little straighter. “I, wanted to thank you again for all your help and well.” He handed her the roses, pink and white. They looked so delicate in comparison to his rough hands. “And with these comes a question.” He took a quick deep breath as (--) carefully took the roses. “Would you allow me the pleasure of taking you out for dinner tonight? Nezu...well, is allowing me to teach but has still requested I refrain from night patrols for another week...” (--) smiled, standing up with the roses in hand. 

She leaned over, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “I would love that.” He stood a little too stiffly, silently lifting his goggles to his eyes in hopes that it would hide his face. (--) giggled, leaning a little closer. “You look a little red...are you sure you’re no longer feverish?” He cleared his throat. 

“I am not.”