#like the solace and understanding they find in each other is... its something

[violentvaleska]

𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔

ғᴏᴜʀ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵖʸ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ!ʟᴇᴠɪ × ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇss!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀs sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs ᴜɴʀᴀᴠᴇʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏʏᴀʟᴛɪᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴇsᴛᴇᴅ, ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴀʟ ᴛᴀɪɴᴛs ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ. ᴀᴄᴄᴜsᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜsᴘɪᴄɪᴏɴ ʙʟᴜʀs ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄᴏɢɴɪᴛɪᴏɴ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ sᴍᴜᴛ, ᴘᴇʀɪᴏᴅ ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ sᴇxɪsᴍ, ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs: ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ғɪᴠᴇ sɪx sᴇᴠᴇɴ

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

ᴛᴀɢɢɪɴɢ: @xiernia @fangsgrr @tatiquichi

ᴀ/ɴ: ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴇᴇᴋ! ᴍɪᴄʜᴇ ɪs ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs, ᴛʀᴜʟʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀʏ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇss ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴜᴘ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ- sᴏʀʀʏ

Nine weeks have passed since your wedding, and life within the royal court has settled into a rhythm, not one of your own choosing, but one meticulously crafted around the will of the Emperor. Each day unfolds with a sense of measured precision, your every action observed, weighed, and accounted for. You are no longer merely a displaced princess of Marley. You are Elise now, the Empress of Eldia, a title that drapes over you like heavy brocade; rich in privilege, yet stifling in its confinement.

The morning after your wedding, a procession of young noblewomen was introduced to you by Lord Commander Erwin Smith, their presence a silent declaration that even your solitude was not your own to claim. The first among them is a familiar face, Lady Marie Louisa Dok, formerly in the service of Queen Historia, now presented to you as a gift of sorts. She is younger than you, her nimble fingers skilled in drawing melodies from the violin, an art that fills the palace halls with a bittersweet elegance.

The eldest of your attendants is Lady Rico of Brzenska, a woman of quiet steel. She speaks little and smiles even less, her sharp eyes more attuned to the flight of an arrow than the delicate intrigues of court. Unlike the others, she does not flutter around you with idle chatter; instead, she joins you in gymnastics and the occasional morning ride, her company a rare respite from the artifice of palace life.

Then there is Lady Nifa of Utgard, whose quick wit and insatiable hunger for knowledge make her the most kindred of spirits. You find solace in her presence, a sense of understanding in the way she maneuvers the labyrinth of courtly expectations with both intelligence and grace. She excels in matters of organization and planning, ensuring that each event, each carefully orchestrated moment of your public life, unfolds without fault.

But it is Lady Petra Ral who unsettles you most. She was introduced with little ceremony, her role stated plainly, your husband’s former concubine, now assigned to educate you in the delicate art of pleasing him. The words had struck like a dagger, sharp and unwelcome. Was it not enough to simply yield to him, to offer what duty required?

For days, resentment simmered beneath the surface, an unspoken bitterness threading through every lesson. But Petra, ever patient, did not seek to humiliate you. Instead, she guided you with quiet confidence, unveiling the secrets of seduction like an artist revealing the strokes of a masterpiece. Within a week, you began to understand. Desire, when wielded properly, was not merely an obligation; it was a woman's power. And to your own surprise, your marriage bed no longer felt like a battlefield but something else entirely; something intoxicating, something yours.

Yet, even with Petra’s presence, there is no lingering shadow of competition. The other concubines, you soon learned, had been dismissed the moment your feet touched Eldian soil. A choice few men of his stature would make, for kings and emperors often reveled in the indulgence of many lovers. You had braced yourself for the same fate. And yet, Levi had chosen otherwise. He has no interest in another. Only you.

Being the sole woman to share his bed has its privileges. In the quiet hours of morning, long after the echoes of passion have faded, you wake to find your chambers adorned with tokens of his favor; silken gowns draped over carved mahogany screens, delicate boxes of jewelry nestled upon your vanity, and trays of the finest confections awaiting you. Each gift is a silent declaration, a reminder that while you may belong to him, he indulges in the pleasure of possessing you.

And yet, for all the luxuries he bestows, true power remains beyond your grasp. When you ascend the dais beside him, it is for spectacle alone, a mere ornament upon the throne, never granted voice nor influence. The illusion of sovereignty is a gilded cage, one Levi expects you to wear with grace.

You do not know precisely when it began, this quiet insistence that you remain at his side. At first, it was subtle, an unspoken expectation that you attend a court meeting here, an imperial address there. But the demand grew like ivy, creeping into every crevice of your day. Now, it is not simply one meeting: it is every meeting. Every discussion of war, of economy, of policy. "An honor." They call it that the Empress is included in affairs of state. But you know the truth. It is not honor; it is the slowly forming obsession with you the Emperor seems to develop.

And while the thought of his attention should flatter you, you find yourself suffocated by it. You have other duties, other obligations that require your presence. You cannot, will not, spend every waking moment orbiting him like a moon trapped in the pull of his gravity.

But Levi is not a man who tolerates absence.

“Where were you?” His voice cuts through the hush of your chambers like the swift edge of a blade. Sasha, who had been fastening the final embellishments of your gown, goes rigid, her fingers halting in their delicate work. A blush rises to her cheeks, whether from fear or the interruption of her latest gossip about Nicolo, the palace chef, you cannot say.

You glance up from your dressing table, startled by the sharpness in his tone. Levi stands in the doorway, his presence dominating the room with a quiet, simmering tension. Sasha, wise enough to recognize the shift in the air, immediately bows and averts her gaze.

“With Lady Nifa.” You answer, smoothing the silk of your gown with an air of practiced composure. 

“We were finalizing the details for the Winter Ball.”

His storm-gray eyes narrow, unreadable yet teeming with something you cannot quite name; something that wavers between understanding and jealousy.

“You should have informed me.” His voice is steady, but his arms cross over his chest in a stance that betrays his displeasure.

“I did not realize I had to.” You admit, your tone is careful and measured compared to his. You keep your expression serene, though the weight of his scrutiny presses against you.

Levi exhales sharply, stepping closer, his presence imposing in a way that makes Sasha shrink back. There is no real threat in his posture, and yet, the sheer force of his attention is enough to unsettle.

“You didn’t realize?” He echoes, voice low, edged with something possessive. 

“I thought it was clear I need you at the receptions. The people adore you.”

There is no mistaking it now. The way he says it, the way his words coil around you like invisible chains, it is not duty that binds you to him. It is his depraved needs of attention from someone else other than his people: your attention. 

A breath lingers in your throat, hesitation curling at the edges of your resolve. He is possessive, overbearing even, but there is something intoxicating in the way he lays claim to you, not as a ruler to his Empress, but as a man to his wife.

You tilt your chin up slightly, meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression of your own, before stepping toward him. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. It is a simple thing, a fleeting gesture, but it is enough. Levi stills beneath your touch, his rigid stance faltering ever so slightly. The absurdity of his outburst settles between you, and though he will never admit it, he realizes it too.

Lunch with Levi is a quiet affair, yet your thoughts churn restlessly beneath the polished veneer of composure. You find yourself dwelling on his unexpected devotion, the way his gaze lingers, the way his hand finds yours with a familiarity that should not exist in a marriage built on necessity rather than love. What has changed? Is it the affection you have shown him? The careful, deliberate way you have tended to his needs?

Your marriage is, after all, an alliance, one that once felt like a cage. In the beginning, he dismissed you with the same cold efficiency he applied to all matters of little importance. You never expected to be cherished. And yet, he watches you now as if you are something more than just a foreign princess draped in silks, a mere ornament upon his throne.

Still, whatever favor you have earned has not granted you power. You remain an exquisite decoration, seated beside him only when it benefits the court's image. It must have been Erwin’s doing, he, more than anyone, understands the influence of appearances. Levi would have preferred to keep you confined to his late mother’s gardens, safe and out of sight. While you welcome the change in scenery, the ceaseless routine of court life leaves you restless.

Yet another thought lingers, heavier than the rest. The absence of a child. Despite the nights spent in your husband’s embrace, you have bled twice in the past nine weeks. A physician has already been summoned at Levi’s request, though no affliction was found. Still, the weight of expectation presses upon you, cold and unrelenting. An heir is not just desired; it is required. Your mother’s words haunt you: Your place will only be secure when you bear him a son. Perhaps you should write to her, seek her counsel before time runs too thin.

“Are you with child yet?” Levi’s voice, so abrupt, shatters your thoughts. You choke on your water, quickly composing yourself as warmth blooms across your cheeks, a deep, mortifying red. How does he do this? How does he read the very thoughts you dare not speak aloud?

Slowly, you shake your head. The disappointment that settles in your chest is sharp, though you cannot tell if it is truly your own or merely what is expected of you.

Before you can form a proper response, a sharp knock echoes through the chamber. The door swings open, and Erwin steps inside, his expression carefully schooled.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty.” He addresses Levi directly. 

“We have uncovered something troubling.” Levi gestures for him to continue, entirely unbothered, but something about the brief flicker of Erwin’s gaze toward you unsettles you. Your corset tightens, though you know it is not the fabric that constricts your breath, it is the anticipation, the growing weight of dread curling around your ribs.

“Your personal maid, Annie-” Erwin states, voice steady. “-is a Marleyan spy.” Ice floods your veins. Your breath catches as you snap your head up, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. The words feel distant, as though spoken through layers of water, muffled and unreal.

“What?” The word slips past your lips, barely above a whisper. You knew this day would come, that the remnants of your past would surface, but Annie? The girl who has lingered in the Emperor’s shadow, silent and unassuming? The thought never once crossed your mind.

Levi’s expression darkens. He turns to you then, searching. His gaze pierces through you, sharp and unwavering, stripping you bare as though he might unearth the truth from the very depths of your soul.

“She was caught sneaking into the war room, attempting to relay information back to Marley.” Erwin continues. 

“She’s been taken to the dungeons.”

Levi does not spare Erwin another glance. His eyes remain fixed on you, colder now, devoid of the warmth you have come to know in recent weeks.

“Did you know?” The words are a blade pressed to your throat, and as the room falls into suffocating silence, you feel the weight of every gaze upon you. Suspicion stains the air.

“No.” The word is immediate, desperate yet firm. You shake your head, barely believing it yourself. 

“I swear, I had no idea.”

Levi studies you, his expression unreadable. The moment stretches, agonizingly slow. Then, finally, he nods, seemingly satisfied. Yet it does little to ease the tension coiling in your stomach. A glance at Reiner tells you he fares no better; his face is pale, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“I will deal with her.” Levi states, rising from his seat, his tone final.

Panic lurches through you. Without thinking, you rise as well, stepping into his path. Your hands find his, trembling as you clasp them between your own.

“Please-” You breathe, voice barely above a whisper. “-do not kill her.”

Beseeching another or begging is something you have been taught to avoid, a sign of weakness unbecoming of an Empress. Yet here you stand, pleading with the Emperor himself, your fingers curled around his as though you might tether him to mercy. Levi exhales sharply, his patience wearing thin.

“Why do you care?” His voice is laced with irritation, but beneath it, something else lingers, something unreadable.

“Annie has not even turned nine and ten yet.” You insist. 

“She must have been a child when she was sent here.” Levi’s jaw tightens, but his silence urges you to continue.

“And?” he counters after a pause. 

“That does not change the fact that your dear father placed a snake in my palace.” You swallow hard. His words are not unfair. 

“I am well aware, my love.” You hush softly. “But please…allow me to correspond with him. He will not deny me an explanation.”

Levi’s expression flickers, something subtle, something almost unreadable. He casts a glance toward Erwin, searching for affirmation, but finds none. A long silence stretches between you before he finally speaks.

“Fine.” Levi relents, though there is no victory in his voice. 

“I’ll expect an answer within the next few weeks. Remind him that your position as Empress can be very much temporary if he makes the wrong choices.”

The words are a slap to the face. Your breath stutters, your fingers slipping from his grasp as if burned. It is the first time he has threatened you so plainly. A reminder of the reality you had begun to forget. For the first time in weeks, you feel like a foreigner in his court.

“Of course, your Majesty.” You murmur, but the words barely reach him. He is already turning away, too angered to see the way you lower your gaze, the way your throat tightens as though swallowing glass. You say nothing more. You simply turn, leaving the dining hall with Sasha at your heels, her expression lined with quiet concern.

As you step into the dimly lit corridor, Reiner follows, the soft clatter of his armor echoing behind you. The weight of Levi’s words settles heavily in your chest, an unbearable pressure pressing against your ribs.

This is only the beginning. As this thought grips you, its truth undeniable, the darkness of the palace stretches before you, vast and unyielding.

The evening air is heavy with unspoken words, thick with the weight of Levi’s warning as you retreat from the dining hall. The echo of his threat still lingers in your ears, cold and unyielding, a reminder that despite the tenderness he has shown you, you remain bound by expectation, by duty, by the precarious balance of political allegiance.

Sasha walks beside you, her hands clasped together, worry evident in the furrow of her brows. Reiner follows just a step behind, his footsteps measured, his armor’s faint clatter the only sound breaking the silence.

You move through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering glow of lanterns casting elongated shadows against the stone walls. The chill of the marble floor seeps through your slippers, grounding you in the reality of the moment. This is not a dream. This is not something that will pass by unnoticed. 

Annie; a spy. You press a hand to your temple, steadying yourself. How could you not have seen it? She had been by Levi’s side all this time, her quiet presence so unassuming, her careful movements so precise. But never had she looked at you with suspicion. Never had she given any indication that she was anything but what she seemed—a dutiful servant. Distantly you hear Reiner ordering Sasha to leave, ordering her to go and inform the other maids of Annie's acts. 

Reiner clears his throat, his voice hesitant. “Your Majesty, are you well?” You glance over your shoulder at him, noting the tension in his jaw, the rigid way he carries himself. It is unlike him. Looking around you notice Sasha has long but gone.

“You seem more disturbed by this than I.” You murmur, giving him a hard stare. His lips part as if to respond, but something stops him. His hesitation, fleeting but visible, ignites something uneasy in your chest.

By the time you reach your quarters, your limbs feel weighed down, exhaustion clinging to your very bones. Reiner hesitates in the doorway, his pale skin almost shining in the darkness of your quarters. You meet his gaze, searching.

“Is there something else?” You wonder, voice softer now, though it does little to ease the growing anxiety clawing at the edges of your mind. His throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he straightens. 

“No, Your Majesty.” He lingers only a moment longer before stepping away, the heavy doors shutting behind him with a finality that feels suffocating.

You release a slow breath, turning toward the balcony. The night stretches before you, endless and shrouded in secrets. Levi’s warning replays in your mind, your position as Empress can be temporary. How cruel it is, to have captured his heart only to be reminded of how fragile your place in it truly is.

And you were right. The incident with Annie was merely the prelude to something far more devastating. The very next day, Reiner and his companion Bertolt are unmasked as spies.

You are in the throne room when they drag him forward, bruised, bloodied, his wrists bound in iron. The sight of him sends a fresh wave of dread coiling in your stomach, tightening like a vice around your ribs. You had been told he was unwell when Guard Miche appeared at your door that morning. The moment those words left his lips, you knew. The sickness was a lie. Something was deeply, irreversibly wrong.

Levi stands before you now, his eyes dark with fury, his presence suffocating in its intensity. “Don’t tell me-” He starts, voice as sharp as a drawn blade.

“-that you didn’t know about him either.” The words crash over you like a tidal wave, and you barely manage to keep yourself standing.

“I did not.” The lie slips from your lips before you can stop it. A cold sweat prickles at the back of your neck as another man, one of the guards from the outer walls, it must be Bertolt, is dragged into the chamber, beaten and barely able to stand.

Levi goes eerily still. Then, he steps toward you, slow and deliberate, his gaze locking onto yours with razor-sharp precision.

“Don’t lie to me, Elise.” You swallow hard, but you refuse to falter.

“I did not know.” Levi exhales through his nose, the sound measured but laced with restrained anger. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, and for the first time in weeks, he feels entirely unreachable.

“You met him before we took you.” His voice is steady, but there is something unhinged beneath the surface, something simmering, dangerous. 

“On Mikasa's ship to you dirty lands.” The Emperor reminds you, the accusation clear as day.

“I—” Not even able to respond, he easily speaks over you.

“You knew.” His words slice through your feeble attempt to explain, his voice low, his expression unreadable. But his eyes, his eyes are ablaze with fury.

“You knew, and you didn’t say a damn thing.” With a harsh bite down onto your own lip you draw blood, knowing you had no certain way out of this you finally give in. 

“Reiner has no ill intentions. He is only here to report back to my brother about my safety.” You insist, your voice rising with desperation. “I can not speak for Annie’s or Bertolt’s actions, but since Reiner was assigned to me  he has done nothing but to protect my honor.” Levi scoffs, the sound sharp and utterly devoid of amusement.

“Bullshit.” The room is silent, thick with tension. The gathered nobles and guards shift uncomfortably, their gazes darting between the two of you, uncertain whether they are witnessing the crumbling of an alliance or something far more personal.

Erwin clears his throat, perhaps intending to intervene, but Levi silences him with a single, scathing look. The message is clear; stay out of this. Levi turns back to you, his expression unreadable, but his next words strike deeper than any blade.

“You’ve lied to me.” It is not a question. It is a fact, one which truth hurts not only him but you too.

“Have you not sworn loyalty to me? Have you no respect for me or the people in this room?” Your heart pounds wildly against your ribs, the weight of his accusation pressing down on you until you feel like you might shatter beneath it.

“My love- ” He steps back, easily putting a distance between the two of you. The movement is slight, but it feels like a chasm opening between you, widening beyond repair. As if the mere act of standing too close to you is unbearable.

“Leave.” His voice is cold, yes even detached. The words cut through you, sharp as steel, leaving you raw and bleeding.

“But I-” Yet your voice is taken from you again.

“I need time to think.” Levi bites out, his tone clipped, his anger barely restrained. 

“Before I do something I’ll regret.”

You hesitate, desperate to reach him, to say something, anything, that might mend the damage. But the storm in his eyes warns you not to push further. Swallowing your pride, you turn and leave the throne room, your pulse hammering in your ears. Sasha does not follow this time, a spark of hurt washing salty tears into her brown eyes. You feel a bang of regret hitting your chest. You do not know what comes next. But one thing is certain; Levi’s trust in you has been shattered. And you do not know if you will ever earn it back.

The halls are eerily silent as you walk, the weight of Levi’s words pressing down on you like an iron chain. Your hands tremble at your sides, your breath uneven as you try to swallow the bitter lump in your throat.

The palace feels colder than usual. The guards avert their eyes and don't greet you like they would usually. Only Miche walks beside you, his presence heavy, too heavy. Levi must have send him after you just moments ago. With his long legs the guard has caught up to you easily. You steal a glance at him, but his face is carved from stone, his jaw clenched, his expression unreadable.

You cannot tell if his silence is out of duty or something far more ominous. When you reach the entrance to your wing, you move to open the door, but suddenly, a firm grip closes around your wrist. Too firm, it bruises through your skin. A startled gasp escapes your lips as you are yanked back, your spine colliding with the cold stone wall. The impact rattles your bones, your vision momentarily blurring.

“Argh.” Miche presses his forearm against your collarbone, pinning you in place. The flickering torchlight casts jagged shadows across his face, and for the first time, you see something in his eyes that makes your blood run cold.

Rage. Deep, unrelenting and unforgiving blind rage.

“You. It is your kind that has taken my Nanaba from me.” The knight spits down at you, his voice dangerously quiet. The kind of quiet that precedes a deadly.storm. Your breath catches in your throat. 

“Nanaba?” You murmur in confusion, taking in scorched and jacket breathes. 

“Don't take her name into your filthy mouth, you cunt.” The command is sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. You stare at him, wide-eyed, your pulse a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

“I should have known.” Miche mutters, more to himself than to you. 

“From the beginning. You, you marleyan filth. You were always one of them, sent to spread your legs for our Emperor. Seducing the poor fool as you please.” His grip tightens, his words cutting. Fear coils inside you, suffocating, as you struggle against his hold.

“You’re wrong. I swear it, Miche, please-” But your pleads go on deaf ears. 

“Reiner. Bertolt. Annie.” His voice rises with every name, his fury unraveling, raw and unfiltered. 

“How many more? How many spies have you let into our walls? How much blood will be on your hands?”

Miche’s voice is a roar of fury, the force of it reverberating through the stone corridor, suffocating in its rage. The sheer venom behind his words sends ice through your veins, but before you can react, his hands are on you, gripping your arms, shoving you back until your spine slams against the cold, unforgiving wall. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs, your fingers scrambling at the fabric of his sleeve, desperate to find purchase, to anchor yourself in the whirlwind of aggression surrounding you.

“You betrayed the only man who ever protected you.” He snarls, his face mere inches from yours, the heat of his breath burning against your skin. His hands tighten, fingers pressing bruises into your arms as his body cages you in, an unrelenting force of grief-fueled rage. 

“And for what?” He sneers, his lips curling in disgust. “For him? For your father? Your people?”

The accusation is a blade, slicing deep into your chest, leaving nothing but raw, exposed wounds.

“I have done nothing against my husband.” You rasp, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling but laced with defiance. Your heart pounds, your breath uneven, but you force yourself to meet his gaze, to hold steady despite the unbearable weight of his hatred.

Miche’s expression darkens, his eyes narrowing as something in him shifts, something dangerous and irrevocable.

“I don’t believe you.” The words drop like a hammer, final and absolute.The air between you changes, thickening, growing suffocating with an unspoken, lethal intent. The grip on your arms loosens, just barely, only for his fingers to drift higher, sliding along the curve of your neck. Your breath stutters.

Your stomach twists into a violent knot, your body going rigid as the realization crashes down upon you like a tidal wave. This isn’t just anger anymore. This is vengeance for the woman he called Nanaba. Who could she be? His sister? Wife or lover? You would never know. This is retribution afterall and he has chosen you as the one to suffer for it.

Panic surges through your veins like liquid fire. Your hands shoot up, grasping at his wrists, nails digging into his skin as you try to pry him away, but he’s stronger, fueled by something deeper, something you cannot break through. You open your mouth; to plead, to scream, but you don’t get the chance.

The strike comes hard and fast. A brutal, open-palmed slap, the sound cracking through the corridor like a whip. The force of it sends your head whipping to the side, your vision flashing white as a sharp, searing pain blooms across your cheekbone. A cry wrenches from your lips, raw and pained, as the metallic taste of blood pools on your tongue. The world spins, tilting on its axis, and your knees buckle beneath you.

Miche does not let you fall, his grip is relentless, keeping you upright, only so he can hurt you again. Another shove, harder this time, your skull smacking against the stone wall, dizziness clouding your mind. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the next blow, but it never comes.

Because suddenly, he’s gone, ripped away from you so violently that his boots scrape against the stone floor, your gown pooling around yourself. Your body sags in relief, the absence of his crushing hold allowing you to suck in a desperate breath. Your lashes flutter open, vision still hazy, but you can make out the figure standing before you.

A low, guttural growl and a voice, sharp as a dagger’s edge.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Levi. His presence alone is enough to shift the very air in the corridor, filling it with an unbearable tension, thick and suffocating. He stands between you and Miche now, his stance sharp, predatory, dangerous. There is something in his posture, in the way his hand hovers near the hilt of his sword, that screams of violence barely restrained.

Miche staggers back a step, chest heaving, hands still clenched into trembling fists. His body is taut, as if he is fighting every instinct screaming at him to lunge forward, to finish what he started. But your Emperor husband does not move, not a single step.

Levi Ackerman doesn’t have to, his voice alone is enough to cut the man down.

“Touch her again-” The words are spoken low, slow, coiling through the air like a serpent waiting to strike.

“-and I will carve you apart where you stand.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Miche’s jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring as though he might protest, might challenge him. Then Levi shifts, just slightly, just enough for his fingers to curl around the hilt of his blade and Miche knows; this is not a warning, this is a promise. A promise from humanity's strongest bastard. 

He exhales sharply, his face twisted with something unreadable, hatred, regret, shame, grief, all of it warring beneath the surface of his seething glare. Then, with a final glance in your direction, he turns on his heel and storms into the shadows, his presence vanishing down the dimly lit halls, while his cedar green cape follows after him. 

And then there is nothing. Just silence. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps, your entire body trembling from the aftermath of what just occurred. You lift a shaking hand to your face, fingertips brushing against the throbbing heat of your cheek, skin already swelling from the force of the blow.

Levi does not look at you, does not even murmur a word or ask for your well being. He simply stands there, unmoving, as though he too is trying to piece together what just transpired. You know; you can feel it.

Something has been severed tonight. Something that may never be repaired.

[linguinibilly]

quackity and charlie slimecicle also have such an interesting relationship on qsmp, it makes me feral

like before juanaflippa died the first time, they barely spoke, barely interacted really but after that? quackity was charlie's lawyer, he fought to bring his daughter back for him, to give her a second chance at life despite having no real need to (ik he wanted payment for it but still, there was no relationship there to make it an obligation) like after he found out about the 5 other lawyers, he could've just stopped trying and left or switched onto el mariana's side but he didn't.

and then, after flippa's back, charlie's supervising tilin, quackity's son, and he accidentally kills her. there is something tragic in the fact that the person you helped save their own daughter is the one that ends up taking your child from you, even as an accident. it's such an awful setting, such an awful scene of charlie feeling genuine remorse over tilin, clearly in denial over everything and so confused because 'why can't he revive her?' so much that he leaves his own daughter -- the one he fought hard to get back -- out of regret and guilt of killing tilin, his daughter's best friend and quackity's son.

then when quackity finds out about tilin and what charlie did, he can't even get revenge or any sort of peace or argument because charlie's in exile, has already given himself a punishment that quackity didn't get to have a say in or anything like that. he didn't get to witness the justice that charlie did, didn't get to have a court case justify his pain and the unfairness of tilin's death when he wasn't even there. instead, he has to live with the knowledge that the man he helped, killed his son -- someone charlie was only with because juanaflippa wanted to be so if he hadn't had helped get her back, would his son still be alive? -- and then left in his own exile so quackity can't even find solace in revenge or law or anything.

it's no wonder that at the funeral he wants to fight charlie in the graveyard, it's no wonder he's so fucking pissed and desperate at everything that he's willing to risk his life, his stay on the server to fight charlie because, after all, what does he have left to stick around for? his son is dead, tilin is dead, he doesn't have a partner like charlie, doesn't have anyone to turn to or find an equally gaping heart because he was a single dad, he was all tilin had as a parent and now he can't even be that so what can he be? what's worth staying for after he's got revenge?

then after the fight, after the funeral, after both grieving fathers got to say one last goodbye to the kids they weren't there for, they meet again. both have undergone their own coping strategies, moved onto their new path of life with resigned emotions. quackity says he's not upset at charlie anymore, not enough to fight him or want revenge anyway, and charlie isn't bargaining against gods and the server to get his daughter back. they're both there, in quackity's house, with fresh wounds and less children but now they have each other

it's something el mariana can't understand, something that sets him apart from quackity or charlie because el mariana feels a different kind of guilt, has a different emotion -- he was directly responsible for his daughter's death, was the one that directly killed her -- while quackity and charlie were both absent, both trusting their children onto other people to take care of for them and it cost them everything.

quackity may look into charlie's eyes and see his son's last moments but he will also see a grieving father in the same boat, with the same pain, and isn't that more than he's had so far?

charlie will look at quackity and see a man that he has hurt, that has helped him. he's caused the same pain onto quackity, a pain he doesn't forgive himself for, but the same one they both have.

it's why their relationship is so good, why it's so meaningful and impactful because they both understand each other. they both know how the other feels, what the other wants more than anything, and they both can sit there or stand there and understand.

their two grieving fathers with little else to their name, no children, no real committed partner, but at least now they have each other

[endless-ineffabilities]

the sapphire and his sun

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Musings about Aemond Targaryen and the only one he truly needs. His one true hope and love. His beloved wife.

a/n : i had to write something after that episode! holy Aemond! This pretty much wrote itself and I could expand it in the future ~ if inspiration strikes true!

word count : <2k ▪︎ masterlist

Aemond used to think his only solace was himself.

His mother had never been much of a mother in her own right, too muddled in the web of deceit that she and Otto spin at their fancy. Criston posited as something of a father figure, but his true loyalty is to his Queen. His brother has always been a wastrel, and his sister wasting away in her own mind.

Aemond never had anyone. Not truly.

Until you.

He still remembers the day you walked into his life, a lone ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds of stormy grey. You appeared to be a frail-hearted young lady, eager to please and to be a devoted wife to her prince. All the while he saw your spirit dimmed from being offered by her House to be Prince Aemond's newly betrothed.

All to secure an alliance.

There was no promise of loyalty or love. Being the prince, he is able to take into bed any whore he wishes. But one look at you - just the one - and all thought of any other lover vanished from his mind.

The first night he was supposed to take you to bed and consummate your marriage, the meek cast in your eyes had disappeared, and in its place a defiant glint he hadn't seen before.

"If I am to be used by my prince, I will do it with the remaining shred of my dignity. I will not cry, I will not beg for a life I have already lost. If all that I am now is a vessel for duty, then so be it." You looked at him, as if for the first time, and with the flames dancing across your face, Aemond would remember that moment as when his sun first shone down on him.

He felt his anger flare for but a moment, his constant fear of being betrayed taking over him. Had everything been an act? Was this to be a marriage of unpleasantry and resentment?

But it quickly dawned on him that the act - the betrayal - was that if his wife was willing to play a fool and dance under his strings like some marionette.

He preferred this. He preferred you.

"Mayhaps I will not bed you tonight, my lady wife. Not yet," he had said, your face slowly twisting in surprise. "I will let you keep more than just your dignity, for you will also possess the choice. Trust that it is only for the time being, at least, until it is imperative that I produce an heir. From this moment forward, I swear to take no else to bed as it is my oath as your husband."

He watched the minute switches in your expression. The wariness. The confusion. The relief. And he already felt it then, as silly as the notion might be, that you had recognised who he really was and that you accepted him.

Aemond was no scoundrel. He wasn't a villain in your story. He wasn't some mighty, untouchable prince.

He was a boy. He was now your husband. He had decency. He had a heart.

And you may not have yet realised, but this heart - wretched as it might have been - he was surrendering it to you.

With the turn of the moon came ill tidings - the death of his father Viserys. Although he was also not much of a father to begin with. Aemond felt numb to it all and there was no time for any emotion to take root, for the conspiracy festered like an open wound. His brother was to be made king.

"Must you go and find him?" you asked. "What if something were to happen?"

He had been blank and unfeeling, unsure of what to make his father's passing. But then, some warmth bloomed in him at your concern. His darling wife cared. He hadn't yet been allowed to indulge in the pleasures of your flesh, but your nights were filled with conversation and confiding.

He took your hands and pressed a kiss atop each one. "It is I who understands Aegon's doings, my wife. Ser Criston is in need of my aid. My brother would sooner sail away than fulfil his duty, which is why he must return at all cost."

"Let him sail away. Let him go and live as he pleases, husband. He never possessed the temperament of a king. You on the other hand... "

His father is dead. His brother could be gone. The enemy encroaches.

But gods be damned, you believed in him.

Aemond didn't know for certain what happiness felt like, he'd never had a single taste of it. And how morbid it was for him to possibly feel it then. But...

"You would make a far better ruler than anyone, and I don't just say that because I am your wife."

Happiness. How fascinating.

How utterly... simple.

For he realised that he had felt it before. Not even in grand moments, no, but in the littlest of things.

He had felt it when you once laughed in pure bliss when he first rode with you atop Vhagar.

When you would help fasten him into his training armour.

When he would watch as you read one of your stories.

His happiness was standing right in front of him. His ray of light, his sun.

And his sun persisted even when he singlehandedly cast the realm into macabre blacks and greens.

Shaken and despondent, he stumbled into your chambers to deliver the news to you first. In the passing hour, everything will change. Will you turn on him too?

"It was an accident," he confessed. "I thought I could control Vhagar, but... she is her own beast. She always has been. I admit I was angry and it was my folly to seek vengeance, but I did not mean to... " His voice broke, and he felt your finger wipe at something wet from his cheek.

He did not even notice that he was crying.

You still said nothing, so he grew frightful. What if nothing he said would ever be enough? No explanation, no apology. He can't lose his light.

"I never held any love for him," he carried on painfully, "but he was my blood. And I... I just - "

"It wasn't your fault, Aemond."

A ray of hope. A remaining strength.

You repeat, "I believe you, and it wasn't your fault."

It mattered not whether his mother would shun him, or his grandsire would frown upon his gruesome action. Rhaenyra was coming for him, as sure as dragonfire, and he would soon have to face the consequences of his actions.

But none of that worried him, not then.

He had to stay alive, however he can, so that he can protect you. It was not remiss of him to overlook that the ladywife of Lucerys' apparent murderer would also have a target on her back.

Aemond knew that the fight was inevitable, and he was going to win it. For you.

In tears, in love, in pale shades of grief, he kissed you with everything he had in him.

A solemn promise. A declaration of love.

"No one shall know the truth of it, my love."

"What do you mean?"

"They will not know, but you will. And that is all that matters. There is no stopping it now and I must face the war head on. What the realm will come to accept is that I intended to fell my nephew and that I do not regret doing so. They have to fear me. This is how I can keep you safe."

"Aemond - "

"Do you trust me?"

The only thing that mattered, the one answer that decided whether he bent or broke. The Seven Kingdoms were to be covered in gloom and shadow, its fields marred with blood and many a broken bone.

His world, however - his world still had light.

"I trust you. With everything I have, I do."

To be tagged in Aemond or Daemon fics, comment on this post !

[larrylimericks]

19Oct24

No matter how mad the word made us, It always held hope — a “hiatus.”

I’m sad for so many reasons — the fundamental sadness of death, and at such a young age; having to process the mortality of someone so extraordinary it seems they should transcend a fate as ordinary as dying; aching for his family and friends; angry that he had to navigate such a cruel world, one that continues to disrespect him in death. Yes, Liam was damaged and in turn damaged others; he had demons to face and amends to make — I like to think he would have, given a chance. His talent was so immense, and there was so much more to come. I believe he would have found a way to redemption, and then had such a beautiful renaissance.

The joy of being a 1D fan has always been policed and mocked. We’ve so frequently been laughed at, dismissed for the intensity of our love for the band. And now, the world wants to do the same with our grief, questioning its legitimacy, trivializing our feelings. But this loss is real. And this grief is valid.

And the grief of losing Liam is compounded by the grief of losing so much else. He wasn’t just a celebrity. They weren’t just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years — no matter how old we were when we found them. So many of us are the people we are in part because of the people they are. Were. We’ve lost a beloved one, we’ve lost innocence, we’ve lost inspiration, we’ve lost a piece of our foundation.

We’ve lost hope.

It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a “hiatus.” It felt dishonest — like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldn’t they just say it was over? That being a boy band has a built-in shelf life, and it was time to explore solo careers. But now I understand the kindness in that word. For hope springs eternal, and it didn’t matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And “hiatus” wasn’t just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liam’s. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.

It’s been a remarkable gift to watch each one find his own path and his own voice. But when they announced a hiatus in 2015, they planted a seed of hope that someday we’d see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again — the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it would’ve been a one-off thing for charity or a special anniversary. Maybe it would be in their 50s when the allure of easy money from a reunion tour was too tempting to resist. But surely, eventually, 1D would reunite in some capacity. I was excited to see how their once frenetic energy and youthful antics would meld with the mature solo artists they’ve become.

That hope sustained us through 18 months and eventually eight years, but now the hiatus is over. I would have happily clowned for every remaining day of my life than know this new certainty brought by the finality of Liam’s death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe we’ll see three or four out of five come together to honor him — and what a poignant testament it will be that Liam was what could bring them together. Or maybe it will never feel right to them to take the stage without him, and that, too, will make all the sense in the world.

I wish I had an uplifting ending for this post. I don’t. I wake up and my first thought is “Liam isn’t here anymore,” and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.

I haven’t been able to listen to their music yet. It’s a cruel trick that the thing that always brought comfort is now a trigger for grief. But I hope that will soon change. That, at some point, I’ll put on WMYB, get choked up at “You’re insecure” and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but aren’t ready to be heard yet: “This is not the end, this is not the end” … “We can live forever.”

❯❯❯❯

[ssa-dado]

The Metaphysics of Love - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluffy fluff, sapiosexual fluff and - brace yourself - SOFT SMUT LET'S GO SPICY GOYALS!!! Summary: On a rare day off, you planned a quiet morning for Aaron's birthday. But he surprised you instead, taking over the kitchen revealing one of his hidden talents. Caught between banter and intimate teasing, you both savored the depth of your connection, blending banter and desire. One thing is certain though, luck is never by your side. Warnings: +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, or at least do out of your parents' sight - SEX, ORAL SEX ALLUDED (fem receiving because we live in a patriarchal society, we deserve it), lots of dirty talk. Aaron 'how am I a whore' Hotchner, he's just a whore. Word Count: 8.8k Dado's Corner: So, this is the first remotely sexual thing I've ever written. I love reading some good ol' smut, but for some reason, I cringe a lot while writing it. It took me excruciatingly long. I don't know what I'm doing; I don't even know if it's any good or even half-decent - let me know? AAAAA I'm very insecure about this and on posting it eheheheh life is fun isn't it? Is it even smut? Who knows. I need theraphy after this.

masterlist

Greek philosopher Plato wrote, “If only there were a way to start a city or an army made up of lovers. Theirs would be the best possible system of society, for they would hold back from all that is shameful, and seek honor in each other’s eyes.”

On rare days off, there was one thing you allowed yourself unapologetically: to be entirely unproductive.

You took these days like a blessing, where sleeping in was less a luxury and more a necessity - a chance to let your mind drift, to refuse the call to be anything more than just here, in this restful solitude.

And when Aaron came over the night before, both of you embraced that same ritual.

It felt almost like a paradox that two people so fiercely devoted to the relentless precision of your work - two minds honed to confront humanity’s darkest edges, always willing to answer the call, no matter how ungodly the hour - could find such deep, sweet solace in those private mornings together.

Days when, for once, you weren’t bending yourselves to crises or sacrificing the next moment’s peace to duty.

You and Aaron, who could spend hours in a rare, intellectual love, a bond built on respect, shared virtues, and an admiration for the other’s mind, a connection that didn’t rely on words, but on understanding each other’s essence.

Yet when the door was closed and the world locked out, all that intellectual reverence between you replaced by something untamed, something driven by pure, aching desire.

The slide of his hands over you felt reverent yet urgent, mapping each line and curve as though rediscovering familiar territory for the first time.

Each kiss, each touch held the thrill of exploration, a deliberate pace that turned gentle caresses into an unspoken plea. The way he whispered your name, his breath hot against your ear, sending sparks down your spine as he drew you closer, as if he could never be close enough.

In that bed, the world ceased to exist, its demands fading into oblivion as you lost yourselves in each other’s bodies, moving and meeting in rhythm, a silent language spoken only between you.

You felt his every shift, every unhurried stroke, savoring the taste of his skin, his weight, the feel of his hand tangled in your hair.

Every time his hands began their journey over you, it was as if he were memorizing you anew, mapping each curve with a reverence that made every touch feel essential. The way his lips would trace a languid, heated path down your neck, over your collarbone, and linger to each of your breasts, then lower to your stomach – always precise, always teasing, always patient.

Each time, he would pause with that infuriating, electrifying smirk, glancing up at you just as his mouth left warm, wet trails along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, each mark a whispered claim, each gentle bite igniting a spark of wild, irrational hunger.

Then, he’d slow, letting his touch turn soft, his movements deliberate, every kiss a careful mark of possession as he inched closer, closer, until he hovered right where you burned for him most.

The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, stirring an ache that felt endless - and yet he always held back, drawing out each second to a tantalizing, almost torturous eternity.

Time itself seemed to dissolve, stretched and redefined by his restraint, bending beneath his control until it became something ungraspable, a vast chasm of unfulfilled need. In that suspended tension, everything beyond the heat of his touch blurred and faded, the world reduced to the exquisite ache of his nearness.

Every nerve felt poised on the brink, strung tight between the agony of waiting and the edge of release. It was an ache that deepened with every restrained second, until every part of you ached for him to finally give in - to end the slow, maddening tease and take you over the edge you so desperately craved, to just let you combust.

Every time, you knew there was no getting out of that bed.

But today, you needed to try.

Today was Aaron’s birthday.

It was his tenth birthday as your partner.

His second as your boss.

His first as… your boyfriend.

The word still felt novel, strange to say aloud, as if acknowledging it might make it slip away. Months in, and it hadn’t yet lost its surreal sweetness. So, despite already knowing he would brush it off, you wanted this day to be special.

Not big, not loud, just enough to quietly tell him how much he meant to you.

And how much you loved him.

He had given up on his own birthdays long ago, weighed down by the memories of being called away, the guilt of leaving pieces of himself with every mile, the reason of the failure of his marriage, the strain of missing out on Jack’s moments he could never relive.

But you knew his aversion went even deeper than guilt and regret.

Because Aaron Hotchner, the man whose presence could command a room with a single look, who possessed a physical authority in his stature, his voice, and his steely gaze, was nothing like that in private.

In his job, he could pull strings in hidden places, command respect from even the most powerful, yet, in private, Aaron Hotchner was anything but the center.

He instinctively yielded that space to others, always giving, forever considering his own worth secondary to his duty. For him, the spotlight was an obligation, a necessity he wore well, but not one he sought.

He instead lived with an unshakable humility that, in his own mind, made him unworthy of the small graces most would take for granted.

He was the center for so many others, to let the world turn around him, even for a day, felt almost undeserved.

This was the man you loved.

The man who, in every part of his life, had chosen to orbit around others rather than himself.

But today, you wanted to change that.

If there was one battle you were determined to win, it was this one: slowly chipping away at Aaron’s stubborn sense of self-denial, proving to him that he deserved the care and quiet adoration he so freely gave everyone else.

You’d make it your mission, spoiling him however you could in those rare, fleeting moments he allowed.

Especially today.

Today, you wanted everything to be about him.

You wanted him to let you give him a birthday that revolved solely around him, a celebration in the purest sense of the word.

So, you concocted a plan.

One of your more mischievous fool-proof “evil” plans, as you’d call them.

You’d set your weekday alarm to go off at an ungodly hour, sacrificing your own precious sleep for a just cause. When the alarm blared, you’d pretend it was a simple mistake, and then, under the guise of getting some water, slip out of bed.

Now, Aaron, being Aaron, would try to keep his eyes open, struggling to wait for you to come back to bed, but you were betting on his recent run of sleepless nights to wear him down. He’d have no choice but to let sleep drag him back under.

And while he slept, you’d slip into the kitchen to bake him a birthday cake, filling the apartment with the warm, sugary smell of freshly baked sweets.

But not just any sweets - because Aaron’s idea of a “sweet tooth” was as delightfully twisted as the man himself.

He liked desserts that weren’t cloying, desserts that had just the right balance of sugar and subtlety. You’d stocked up on his favorite ingredients earlier in the week, quietly stashing them away like a stealthy confectionary hoarder.

You wanted the process to take time, to show him that he was worth the hours of sacrificed sleep, that he was worth the care poured into each meticulous step.

Call it love.

You could picture it perfectly, or at least you thought you could: the early morning quiet, just you in your cozy sanctuary, stealing away precious minutes of peace to bake for the one person who had come to mean more to you than anyone else in the world.

You’d sneak out of bed and create something special, something full of quiet love. That was the plan, the picture you’d carefully composed in your mind.

But reality had other plans.

Because, instead, you woke up alone, which wouldn’t have been unusual months ago, back when solitude was your morning routine. But lately, you’d grown a little too used to waking up next to Aaron, finding him there in those rare, lazy mornings, seeing his face softened by sleep.

So, yes, waking up without him startled you.

And that wasn’t the strangest part.

But what truly threw you off was the unfamiliar noise that filled your apartment – the sounds foreign and unexpected, loud and unmistakably upbeat.

Music.

Not just any music, but the kind that seemed plucked from a pop radio station’s Top 30 - those catchy, bubblegum-sweet songs that played over and over, each one sounding like a new but familiar hit. You recognized the song immediately, a few of its lyrics sneaking into your consciousness.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone…”

The music filled the entire space, and the distinct melody grew louder as you slowly pulled yourself out of bed. You quickly washed up, threw on Aaron’s shirt - somehow conveniently draped over the chair beside your bed from last night - and crept toward the source, trying to make sense of the scene awaiting you.

The closer you got, the louder the music became, and as you moved down the hall, another noise reached your ears. A full octave lower, slightly offbeat tune, blending into the chorus.

You stopped.

This new melody was unmistakable - a deep, familiar voice humming along.

You rounded the corner, holding your breath as you peeked around the door frame, and there he was: standing at the counter, 6’2” of pure FBI stoicism, humming and even softly singing along to Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” as he flipped pancakes, completely absorbed, almost…at peace.

Aaron, your Aaron, was singing.

And he was singing on key, to a Taylor Swift song, of all things.

This was Aaron “blues and classic rock” Hotchner, the man who’d first revealed he could play the guitar with quiet pride, a piece of his world he’d shown you like an offering.

This was the man who once played you a perfect riff from Eric Clapton’s “Layla” to win a bet, who could talk about the origins of every Beatles riff and knew exactly which blues chord matched which heartbreak.

You’d seen him pour himself into those riffs and solos, even negotiate an occasional strum in exchange for something even as stupid as a kiss or him asking you to sing along. That was thrilling enough, it was something special he shared with you, revealing his private passion for music.

You’d always thought he kept his own voice hidden somewhere deep.

You’d gone a decade without hearing it and almost expected never to, half-convinced he didn’t even know how to sing. If he did, it was probably as flat as his deadpan humor.

Yet here he was, in his element - or maybe in your element - singing along, his voice low and smooth, threading into the melody as if he’d been doing it all his life.

He wasn’t putting on a show, no spoon-as-microphone dramatics, no fake dance moves. Just the smallest tilt of his head in time with the music, his voice like his presence - restrained, yet always intentional. It was almost as if he was singing to keep himself company, like he’d done this a hundred times over, alone.

It was strange, maybe surreal, to see Aaron singing the words to one of the most unabashedly sentimental pop songs, lyrics he’d usually flip the station over without a second thought.

But what truly was more shocking - was the calm, almost methodical way he sang. It wasn’t the typical poppy, upbeat rendition, he was deliberately bending the melody, drawing out the notes, giving it a weight and richness that felt… sincere.

Even thoughtful.

“Romeo, save me,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, layering over the lyrics with that warm, low cadence that made you feel he was singing a ballad rather than a radio hit. “I’ve been feeling so alone” The lower octave turning the song into something more heartfelt, the kind of warmth you’d find in an old love song.

You barely dared to breathe, your hand resting on the doorframe as you took in the scene, each step bringing you closer, yet you stood still, just watching him.

There he was, perfectly at home in your kitchen, flipping pancakes in time with the song, a bowl of batter at his side, and those neatly diced apples - your apples, the ones you’d hidden for the cake, already sliced and ready on the counter.

He moved with this calm certainty, like he knew exactly where every spoon and skillet was, as if he’d done this a hundred times before, like this was his kitchen, his place.

And watching him, the weight of it settled over you, soft and unassuming, like it had always been there, only waiting for you to notice.

You wanted to see this every morning.

This sight - him in your kitchen, in your space, humming along to a cheesy love song.

You could already imagine so many more mornings just like this - waking up to the quiet sounds of him in the kitchen, maybe later to the faint patter of little feet, to quiet laughter, to moments of warmth and ease you hadn’t dared to let yourself picture.

Right there, it hit you, the thought rising naturally, with the same certainty as breathing: you wanted to marry Aaron Hotchner.

You wanted this morning, and every morning, and every rare, precious moment he’d allow you to share, for the rest of your lives.

It was so startling, it almost scared you - the sheer weight and clarity of it, something you’d never even let yourself imagine until now.

And as if he could read your mind, he sang on, unwittingly echoing the thought you’d just had, the words falling from his lips with this surprising tenderness, so soft you barely heard it over the sizzling pan,

"He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring…”

And in perfect time with the lyrics, he turned, reaching for something on the counter. His gaze met yours, and he froze, his eyes going wide.

Caught.

Caught like he was a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, his cheeks tinged pink as he stammered, “It’s… catchy.”

You couldn’t even form a coherent reply. All you managed to say, a little dazed, was, “Last time I checked, this was my kitchen.” It seemed only fair to mention, because he looked entirely too comfortable, like he belonged there. Which, of course, he did.

Without missing a beat, he smirked, still flushed. “Last time I checked, that was my shirt.” There was a glint of humor in his eye as he nodded at the oversized button-up you were wrapped in.

Touché.

But you couldn’t let him off so easily.

“So, Hotchner’s finally embraced pop?” you teased, moving closer. He gave you a look that was half-fond, half-exasperated.

“Are you going to tell the team?” he asked, lips twitching in a barely suppressed smile.

“Oh, you mean that you know the lyrics to Love Story by heart?” You reached for a piece of apple, savoring the sweetness, both of the fruit and the moment.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms in a way that was both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. "And how exactly are you going to tell them?" he countered, his voice low and amused. "Considering we’re still keeping this whole thing," he gestured between the two of you, "a secret?"

You arched an eyebrow at him, a smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. “Oh, don’t worry, I’d find a way to tell them. Especially after finding my plan completely sabotaged.” You gestured toward the crime scene he’d made of your countertop, the diced apples mixed with flour dust and cinnamon smears, reaching out to pick up a perfectly diced slice. “What kind of monster butchers my last apple?”

Aaron chuckled, crossing his arms in that familiar way that made him look both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. “Well, I got here first, so I have dibs on breakfast duties,” he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned in just a bit closer.

“Admit it, you’re just miserable that I’ve now beaten you not only to the office every morning but also in your very own kitchen.” With a playful smirk, he reached out, fingers grazing yours as he took the slice of apple from your hand, popping it into his mouth.

Your hand instinctively reached up, brushing a stray smear of flour from his cheek, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your fingers lingered against his skin, warm beneath your touch, your thumb brushing over the roughness of his stubble. “Believe me, Aaron,” you murmured, your voice softening, “I’m hardly miserable. But if there was ever a day for you to be spoiled, it’s today.”

A subtle shift crossed his face, he tried to play it off with a shrug, but you caught the way his eyes softened. “Since when are Sundays such a big deal?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

You smiled, your voice dropping just as low. “Since a certain FBI Unit Chief turned 43 today.”

He paused, something deeper flickering across his face, gratitude, maybe even a hint of wonder. But his lips curled into a small smile as he teased, “So you’re saying you’re obsessed with me? Is that why today’s circled on the calendar?”

You laughed softly, leaning in until the warmth between you was almost overwhelming. “Maybe I’m just a thorough planner,” you murmured, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. “Not that you’d know anything about that, Mister Show-Up-Unannounced-To-Ruin-Everything.”

His chuckle was low, rich, and his hand slid from the counter to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb traced small, warm circles just above your hip, sending a thrill through you that made your pulse quicken. “Oh, so I’m the one to blame now?”

His forehead pressed against yours, his lips only inches away, his voice a warm murmur that made your breath catch. “I thought I’d get some credit. I put my heart into this, you know.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingertips brushing gently along the nape of his neck as you closed the space between you. “Maybe a little credit,” you whispered softly in his good ear, your voice low and warm,

“But only if those pancakes are as good as the cake I was going to make for you.” You leaned back just enough to see your reflection in his light chestnut eyes. "Happy birthday, Aaron. I love you."

Six words, and that’s all it took.

Six words and the universe seemed to gather itself, suspended in a moment that transcended language itself.

It was a truth so elemental, it resisted adornment, a declaration distilled to its essence, timeless and immutable.

An affirmation that existed beyond expectation, a vow as ancient and constant as the stars themselves.

There is a metaphysics to love, you realized - it stands outside the linear bounds of time, touches the eternal.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice serious thick with emotion, “I love you, too.”

As he leaned in, his lips met yours with a tenderness that felt timeless, like the merging of two notes in perfect harmony. The kiss was neither hurried nor tentative - it lingered, unbound by time, a communion in which words would only lessen its meaning.

It was as if the essence of all things - of breath, heartbeats, even thought - collapsed into a single, quiet rhythm, a pulse shared between the two of you, steady and enduring.

His hand on the small of your back was grounding, tethering you to the warmth and certainty of his presence, yet it held the weight of something deeper, an invitation to transcend the ordinary, into a realm that felt almost timeless.

His fingers traced gentle paths along your spine, each motion a quiet pledge, a reminder that this moment - this suspended eternity - was as real as anything either of you had ever known.

There was something purely metaphysical about it, a union that philosophy itself would struggle to pin down, though it tried - oh, how it tried!

There were passages in Aristotle, in Plato, that hinted at this feeling, words that beckoned yet somehow fell short of translating this precise depth, this shared infinity.

How perfectly absurd, yet fitting, that the ancient words you’d studied your whole life only now truly resonated, here, in his arms.

It was probably a blessing that he couldn’t read your mind, or he’d surely tease you mercilessly, forever, about finding existential truths in the simplicity of a kiss.

Yet philosophy was the only thing that could try to capture even a fraction of what he made you feel. You would have likely confessed that, at this very moment, he seemed to hold all the secrets of the universe in the softness of his gaze, in the press of his hand.

If he knew, you could already hear him laughing, promising with that faint smirk to remind you every day for the rest of his life: ‘that you were the one waxing poetic, hopelessly undone by his touch.’

But perhaps you’d take that trade-off, if it meant he’d keep looking at you just like this.

Or maybe he already suspected, because as he pulled back slightly, that familiar sparkle was in his eyes. His voice dropped to that low, warm timbre that always seemed to melt you. “You know, I’m the luckiest guy in the world having you as my girlfriend,” he murmured.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, a reaction you couldn’t seem to help, especially when he was the one reminding you of that fact.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your blush. “I love how you keep doing that every time I call you my girlfriend,” he said, savoring each word, his grin only widening.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” you nudged him playfully, pulling away just long enough to pour yourself a glass of water.

He leaned against the counter, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Maybe. It’s the little pleasures in life, you know?” He paused, and you caught the mischievous edge to his voice. “Like watching that blush climb all the way down your neck every time I’m close to you.”

You took a sip of water, trying to keep your cool, but he leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “And I can think of a few more ways to keep you flushed like that,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur.

You nearly choked, sputtering as you looked up at him with a mock glare. “If you say one more word, Aaron Hotchner, I swear I’m dumping this entire glass of water on you.” you warned, pointing to the water for emphasis.

But he didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he raised a playful brow, his smirk only deepening. “Now, that’d just give me an excuse to get closer to you. Which, I’d say, isn’t a bad way to spend my birthday.” He paused, eyes trailing over you in a way that sent warmth radiating from your cheeks down to your very core. “Or… maybe you’d rather see me get out of this shirt? I mean, it’s your call, sweetheart.”

The room suddenly felt too warm, and from the glint in his eyes, you knew he could see how thoroughly flustered you were. You searched for a comeback, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine.

But the words caught in your throat, entirely out of reach, and he noticed - of course he noticed. His grin widened as he leaned back, folding his arms, looking smug and entirely too pleased with himself.

“What’s the matter, Professor?” he continued, a grin playing on his lips. “Don’t tell me the great philosopher herself is speechless?” His voice dropped even lower “No ancient texts to rescue you from this one?”

The challenge in his eyes held you captive, and you knew there was no witty comeback that could save you from the truth: he had completely undone you.

But you managed to pull yourself together just enough to respond, leaning forward as you raised your chin with a defiant smile.

But he didn’t budge, his eyes sparkling with that familiar, infuriating confidence. “Oh, I think I’ll stay right here. Watching you like this?” His smirk grew wider. “This is the best birthday gift I could ask for.”

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down, and turned to the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water and holding it up with a knowing look. “You know,” you said, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “there’s a whole bottle of ice-cold water here. Just waiting to be used.”

He chuckled, unfazed, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Judging from that blush,” he murmured, stepping closer, “I think you’re the one who could use the cold water.” He leaned in, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Or do you want to bet I’ve already got you wet down there?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips as you took a small step back, pretending to consider his words. “Oh, you’re bold today, aren’t you?” you teased, uncapping the water bottle and tilting it slightly in his direction. “I wouldn’t test me, Hotchner.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, though his gaze stayed fixed on you, steady and full of challenge. “But I’d love to see what you’d actually do with that water,” he added, crossing his arms and leaning back with a smirk. “Go on, show me.”

You lifted the bottle just enough to let a single drop slip down, watching as it slid down the bottle’s edge, intentionally drawing it out. “You sure about that?” you asked, your tone daring. “Because once I start, there’s no going back.”

He grinned, holding his ground, eyes dancing with intrigue. “Try me,” he whispered, his voice rough, daring you, his gaze locked on yours.

With a smirk, you tilted the bottle in one swift motion, letting a stream of cold water pour down his neck, catching him completely off-guard. The shock in his eyes was priceless as he gasped, shivering as the icy water spilled over his collar and down his chest, soaking into the fabric of his shirt and clinging to his skin.

You watched, heart pounding, as rivulets of water dripped from his hair, tracing paths down his jaw and across the hollow of his throat.

His breath came shallow, and for a brief moment, he just stared at you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and something else - a heat that went far beyond the playful spark in his gaze moments before.

Slowly, he brushed his fingers through his wet hair, sending droplets flying as he shook his head in mock surrender, chuckling under his breath. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, “I’ll give you that one.”

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, the water still trickling down his neck, clinging to his skin. “But you do realize,” he said softly, a glint of challenge and mischief in his eyes, “now it’s my turn.”

Your fingers threaded into his damp hair, tugging him closer as you pressed your body against his, deepening the kiss with a need that went beyond words.

His mouth moved over yours, hot and unyielding, each kiss more consuming than the last, igniting a fire that pulsed through every inch of you. You let out a soft moan as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you against him, until the lines between where he ended and you began were blurred.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you with ease, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you steadied yourself, your legs tightening around his waist. He walked with purpose, each step deliberate as he moved you away from the puddle on the floor.

Reaching the counter, he set you down, his hands sliding to your hips to keep you anchored to him. You pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist, feeling his hard bulge pressing against you, right between your legs, sending an excruciating wave of heat that made you ache with need of wanting every inch of him.

His lips trailed down to your neck, finding that sensitive spot that made you gasp, arching your back and tilting your hips against him in response, desperate for more contact through all those unnecessary layers of clothes.

That made him chuckle against your skin, his breath warm and teasing as he pressed his hips forward, letting you feel more of him. His hands roamed over your body, one slipping down between your thighs, his fingers sliding over the fabric of your clothes to press gently against your folds. You let out a shuddering breath as he teased you, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric under his touch.

“Shit Aaron,” you whispered furrowing your brows, the sound escaping as a mix of plea and need. He let out a low, satisfied sigh, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes along your folds, applying just enough pressure to leave you breathless.

"Told you needed that cold water too," he murmured, his voice rough and dark with desire as his fingers continued their slow, teasing movements, each touch lingering longer than the last, setting every nerve in your body on fire. "You’re so wet, love."

His lips found yours again, his kiss searing and consuming, swallowing the soft gasps that escaped you as his hand worked in a steady rhythm that left you trembling, every touch building the ache that spread through you.

Your hands found the hem of his soaked shirt, unable to resist the need to feel more of him. You gripped the fabric, slowly peeling it up over his torso, your fingers tracing over every defined line of his abdomen and chest as the shirt lifted, clinging to his skin, heavier from the water.

He shuddered at your touch, his muscles taut under your fingertips, and his breathing hitched as you struggled to work the fabric up over his shoulders. With a quick, impatient movement, he pulled it the rest of the way off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, where it landed with a wet, heavy thud.

The unexpected sound made you both pause, sharing a breathless, shared chuckle that broke the intensity for only a moment.

Then his gaze met yours, dark and blazing with an almost unrestrained hunger. His pupils were blown wide, breaths shallow and quick, matching your own.

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable, every second weighted with anticipation " Let's cut this shit and just fuck me, Aaron," you said firmly locking eyes with him, your tone was thick with need.

 "So eloquent," he replied, his voice so low that it made you even more wet than you already were.

"If you don’t have me quoting Plato," you breathed, voice unsteady, “then it means you’re doing it a good job."

He let out a low, throaty chuckle. "Trust me, that's the last thing I want to hear right now."

False. But he wasn’t about to let you know that just yet.

Keeping his gaze fixed on yours, he dipped down slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs, his grip firm yet gentle, holding you open in a way that left no room for resistance and filled you with a breathless anticipation.

His lips brushed softly over your knee, then trailed upward in maddeningly slow, deliberate kisses along your inner thigh. Each touch of his mouth felt like a spark on your skin, the heat pooling within you growing with every inch he covered.

The roughness of his stubble scraped deliciously over your sensitive skin, heightening the sensation and leaving you craving more with every slow, deliberate movement.

“I could stay here all morning,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough, lips lingering at that spot on your inner thigh that made your head spin. “Fuck, your thighs drive me crazy.” He sucked gently at the sensitive skin, and a dizzying wave of warmth coursed through you, making you clutch the edge of the counter beneath you.

“You sound so much better when you’re talking between my legs,” you managed, your voice a whisper. “Almost makes me want to actually listen to what you’re saying.”

A smirk played on his lips as he moved inward with torturous slowness, each kiss deeper and more lingering than the last, his mouth exploring every inch with an intensity that only stoked the fire inside you. “Can’t wait to eat you out,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that made you shiver. “You always taste so damn sweet.”

Just hearing him made your cheeks flush, heat spreading across your skin, and he looked up briefly, catching the blush on your face.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your thigh, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body. “There it is,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to your skin as if savoring every reaction, “and I’m not even close.”

“Fuck you Aaron,” you muttered, rolling your eyes at the nerve he had, but unable to mask the need building inside you.

“Just give me a few minutes,” he whispered, a wicked smile tugging at his lips, “and you won’t be able to say a word.” Without giving you time to respond, he moved his hand, his fingers brushing over your throbbing, clothed core, drawing a soft, needy moan from you.

“Oh, Aaron,” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as the warmth of his touch sent a shock of pleasure through you.

“Better, but next time just say my name”, he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as his mouth continued to explore every sensitive spot, each kiss igniting fresh waves of desire.

He savored every second, each shiver, each breathless sound you made, keeping you on edge and drawing out your need until you were trembling with anticipation, every nerve alive and straining toward him, aching for the moment he’d finally close that last, agonizing bit of distance.

A soft, breathy moan escaped your lips as his mouth reached the very end of your inner thigh, lingering there with maddening intent before, with one swift motion, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and discarded them, leaving you exposed to the cool air that instantly sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hand flew to his, squeezing his left hand resting on your thigh, seeking an anchor amidst the building tension. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding you there, his grip firm and grounding.

What a gentleman.

As he moved closer to where you ached for him most, the warmth of his breath contrasted with the coolness of the air, sending another wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

Your skin was hypersensitive, every inch of you on edge, the cool air brushing against your slick, exposed core making you tremble with need. You could feel yourself wet, the evidence of your desire trailing down, and he noticed, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he took in every reaction.

Slowly, he leaned in, and just when you thought you couldn’t bear the wait, he let out a soft, cool breath against your sensitive center, the contrast making you gasp, your hips instinctively arching toward him.

The sensation was electric, his teasing touch only building the tension to a fever pitch, leaving you breathless and desperate, every nerve alive, craving his next move.

Every inch of you ached for him, and the faint chill of his breath against your heated skin only made you more sensitive, heightening every sensation as you waited, breathless, desperate, for the moment he’d finally close the distance and give you the relief you craved.

And just as you felt yourself entirely lost in the moment, fully immersed in his touch, your phone rang – your work phone.

Aaron, sensing the urgency of your vibrating work phone, let out a reluctant sigh and leaned down, resting his head between your legs for a lingering moment before handing the phone to you.

His hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he straightened up and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He knew it had to be important if you were getting called on your day off - especially since your last case had barely wrapped up a day ago.

With a sigh, you brought the phone to your ear, feeling Aaron’s hand slide down to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles over your skin. “Agent Y/L/N,” you answered, keeping your tone professional despite the unmistakable warmth of Aaron’s presence beside you.

The voice on the other end chirped brightly. “Oh, don’t worry, Teach, this isn’t a case.” It was Garcia, her usual exuberance coming through, immediately putting you at ease.

Aaron’s head shot up, his expression sharpening as he registered Garcia’s voice on the line. His unit chief instincts kicked in immediately, a hint of concern flickering across his face - he knew as well as you did that Garcia wasn’t supposed to make personal calls to your work phone.

His gaze shifted to meet yours, silently questioning, his eyes searching for an explanation.

But you quickly gave him a reassuring nod, your eyes conveying, ‘It’s fine. Just Garcia being Garcia.’

He studied you for a moment, then sighed, the tension easing from his face as he accepted your silent assurance. She was his favorite on the team, after all – you knew he’d let this slide simply because it was her, and only her.

His tense posture softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he relaxed. But his hand stayed firmly on your leg, his thumb moving in soothing circles, silently grounding you as you continued the call.

“So… what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Well, I’m just outside your door!” Garcia chirped, and you froze, a sense of dread pooling in your stomach. “I came by to return that umbrella you lent me! And as an apology for taking so long, I brought homemade cookies! But not just any cookies - these are made with your recipe. I had to know your secret, oh wise cookie guru.”

You exchanged a panicked look with Aaron, who widened his eyes, clearly just as surprised as you were. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, mouthing, ‘What?’

The kitchen was a disaster - a puddle of water glistened a few feet away from where you were, his shirt and your discarded underwear lay crumpled on the floor, and a forgotten stack of pancakes sat on the opposite counters, cold and untouched.

You tried to focus, clearing your throat. “Did you, um, brown the butter?” you asked, forcing a normal tone as Aaron’s lips returned to your cheek, planting feather-light kisses along your jawline. You brought your hand up to his chest, gently pressing to stop him just before he reached your neck.

If he kept going, there was no way you’d keep quiet.

“Oh, obviously, I browned the butter! Gourmet tip of the year, right?” she replied with dramatic flair. “But seriously, why haven’t you opened the door yet? Don’t tell me you’re still in bed!”

“Oh, Penelope, uh,” you hesitated, your voice wavering as you shot Aaron a helpless look. He simply leaned back, crossing his arms with an amused grin, watching you squirm. “I’m… uh… a little tied up right now.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then she gasped, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Teach,” she said, drawing out the word as if savoring it. “Did you get laid?”

Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your cheeks, and you avoided Aaron’s gaze. “I, uh…” you stammered, glancing at Aaron, who raised both eyebrows, clearly entertained by the direction the conversation was going. ‘Lost for words, again?’ he mouthed, with a smirk.

“Oh my God!” Garcia squealed. “Spill! Where did you meet them? Was it romantic, thrilling, a slow-burn kind of thing?”

Thinking quickly, you stammered, “Uh… met him at the supermarket, actually.” You glanced over at Aaron, who was watching you with a barely contained grin.

“The supermarket?” Garcia’s tone was incredulous, then turned approving. “Well, look at you, turning errands into escapades! What was it about him? I mean, Teach, this is you we’re talking about, and you have that five-date rule before you even consider any ‘extracurriculars’!”

Aaron barely held back a laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He mouthed, ‘Five dates?’ with an exaggerated look of mock surprise, clearly referencing the fact that it had taken you much fewer than five dates to get there with him.

Grabbing a pen and sticky note from the counter, you quickly scribbled, *It took us ten years, I think we waited enough.*

He read it, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous grin that seemed to say, “Still a win.” He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, and you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile.

“So?” Garcia’s voice came through again, jolting you back. “What made him so special?”

You cleared your throat, keeping your answer vague. “He was… just nice. Nothing too remarkable. We just clicked.”

Garcia paused, as if processing that. “Clicked, huh? Not the most exciting answer, but I guess it’s better than nothing.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially, “Well, Teach, between you and me - how was it?”

You blinked, struggling to keep your composure. You knew answering in detail would only encourage her. Shooting Aaron a quick, apologetic look, you took a deep breath and answered, trying to be as nonchalant as possible “Honestly? Not memorable.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up, a look of playful offense crossing his face. You grabbed the pen again, quickly scribbling, ‘She’d have asked for specifics. It was the only way to end it.’

But Aaron wasn’t letting it slide.

He smirked, taking the pen from you and jotting, “If I were you, I’d start writing your incident report now.”

You mouthed a playful “Come on, Aaron,” but he didn’t relent, writing again, ‘You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you. Trust me on that.’ His eyes gleamed with a mixture of humor and something darker, and he added, ‘Consider it a favor to your Unit Chief.’

The moment he pulled rank - even in jest - you knew he wasn’t kidding. A thrill shot through you, as, you realized: oh, you were fucked.

Meanwhile, Garcia was still on the line, sympathy dripping from her voice. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Teach. I hope the next one is better! But hey love, you’re a catch, you’ll have a line of suitors soon enough.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, grinning as he traced lazy circles along your arm, clearly entertained and waiting to see how you’d handle the situation. Just as you were about to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking the conversation with Garcia might finally be wrapping up, she added, “But one last thing… how big was he?”

Your eyes flew to Aaron, who pressed his lips together, struggling to keep from laughing outright. His brows lifted, an expectant glint in his eyes as he waited to see how you’d handle this new level of interrogation.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, hiding your face behind your hand for a second before answering.

“Oh, Penelope,” you began, doing your best to keep your voice steady as Aaron’s expression practically sparkled with mischief. “Size… let’s just say he was… more than enough.”

You gave Aaron a pointed look, as if to say, ‘Happy now?’

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye, and picked up the pen to scrawl on a sticky note, “At least you said something true this time.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms with a smirk and that unmistakable, self-satisfied gleam that only made him more infuriatingly irresistible.

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to wipe that smug grin off his face. He was lucky you loved him, even when he was this cocky.

Garcia hummed, clearly intrigued. “Alright, alright, keep your secrets! But I’ll be needing a coffee date soon to get all the details. And I’ll make sure to bring a tape measure!”

Aaron’s smirk only widened, thoroughly enjoying every second of your discomfort. Determined to take back some control, you grabbed the pen, furiously scribbling, “If you don’t stop smirking, I’ll make you wait a week.”

He arched an eyebrow, clearly unfazed, and took the pen, writing back with a smug confidence, “I don’t think you’d last a week.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in close, his mouth brushing your ear. “In fact,” he whispered, voice low and challenging, “I’d bet you’d be begging in less than a minute.”

Just as he pulled back, you caught yourself, remembering Garcia was still on the line. You shook yourself out of the daze he’d left you in, quickly bringing the phone back up. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later. I’ve got a bit of a… mess here to handle.”

“Ohhh, say no more,” she replied with a knowing giggle. “Go handle your ‘mess,’ teach! I’ll swing by later to drop off the cookies.”

“Sure thing,” you replied, hoping to end the call before anything else slipped. “Talk soon!”

Finally, she hung up, and you let out a sigh of relief as you placed the phone back on the counter.

Before you could even process the call, Aaron wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back toward him. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss along your jaw, trailing slowly down to the sensitive spot on your neck, his touch igniting that spark of need all over again.

“‘Not memorable,’ huh?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed his lips along your collarbone, his voice thick with amusement and challenge. “Guess I’ll have to change that.”

You smirked, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug as you met his gaze, your eyes gleaming. “Consider it a challenge,” you whispered, voice heavy with anticipation.

“Oh, I intend to,” he replied, his voice low and filled with a promise that sent a thrill through you. His hands slipped down to your waist, gripping firmly as he lifted you effortlessly back onto the counter.

His fingers traced along your thighs, pulling you close until there was no space left between you, his warmth flooding over you as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was anything but forgettable.

The intensity of his lips left you breathless, his mouth moving with a need that always made you ache for him.

But just as you were melting into the kiss, he pulled back abruptly, leaving you gasping.

Without a word, he turned and walked toward the entry room where he’d left his briefcase the night prior.

You sat there, still dazed, watching as he rummaged through it with purpose. When he returned, he handed you a piece of paper and a pen, his smirk widening as you looked down and realized he’d handed you an incident report form.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “An incident report, really?”

He grinned, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You file this,” he said, voice rich with amusement, “and in the meantime, I’ll clean up this kitchen disaster we made. How’s that sound?”

“You’re serious about this?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face as his fingers slid teasingly up and down your sides, his touch setting your skin on fire even through the fabric.

He leaned close, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Think of it as a precaution,” he murmured, his breath tickling your skin. “Can’t have you running to HR with ‘not memorable’ complaints, now can we?”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing at the cold pile of pancakes beside you. “Fine. But if I’m filing paperwork, I’m at least entitled to a last meal,” you teased, reaching for one of the now slightly stale pancakes.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers brushing along your jaw as he looked at you with mock sincerity. “Of course. I’m not heartless,” he said, sliding a hand possessively down your thigh. “Wouldn’t want you complaining that I wasted your ‘last apple.’”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as you took a bite, savoring the taste with exaggerated satisfaction just to get a rise out of him.

As you took a bite, he leaned in, his lips trailing a slow, heated path down your neck, each kiss sending sparks across your skin. “Finish up,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with promise. “You’re going to need a lot of energy later.”

You smirked, picking up a pancake and handing it to him. “I think you’re the one who’ll need it more,” you teased, eyes glinting. “Wouldn’t want you throwing out your back, old man.”

He raised an eyebrow, biting into the pancake you offered, then leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Old man?” he echoed, his tone low and challenging. “We’ll see who’s begging for mercy first.”

You chuckled, unfazed. “Just looking out for you,” you replied innocently. “Can’t have my Unit Chief all sore and out of commission, can I?”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening around your waist. “Sweetheart, by the time I’m through with you, the only thing you’ll be looking out for is a place to catch your breath.”

“Oh?” You leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Big talk. Hope you’re not all bark and no bite.”

He tilted your chin up, his gaze darkening as he smirked. “Oh, you’ll feel the bite.” His lips brushed over yours, slow and teasing. “And trust me,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve got more than enough stamina to keep you… occupied.”

You grinned, meeting his dark gaze with a defiant spark in your eyes. “More than enough stamina? Now that’s a bold claim,” you murmured, your voice laced with playful challenge. “But, if you’re looking to impress, I’d expect nothing less than an all-night performance. Think you can handle that?”

His smirk grew as his hands slid up your sides, pulling you even closer. “Oh, I’m not just handling it, I’m guaranteeing it,” he replied, his voice a low, rumbling promise. He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, just close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “In fact, sweetheart, I don’t plan on letting you sleep at all tonight.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept up the game. “Guess I’ll have to cancel my morning plans,” you replied, pretending to sound disappointed. “Here I thought I’d be waking up fresh and ready to tackle the day.”

He let out a soft, amused chuckle, his fingers slipping down to grip your hips firmly, pressing you against him. “Oh, you’ll be plenty ready to tackle something,” he teased, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head, giving you a slow, purposeful once-over. “But the day? Probably not. You’ll be too busy trying to remember how to stand.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smirk never left your lips. “Big words, Hotchner. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He leaned closer, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Challenge accepted,” he murmured, his tone dripping with intent. “And just so you know,” he added, his mouth ghosting over your skin, “the only thing I’ll need all night… is you begging for more.”

“Confident, aren’t we?” you teased, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug. “But confidence only gets you so far, you know. You’ll have to back up all this talk.”

He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, his eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips brushing over yours. “By the time I’m done, the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name.”

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet”, Plato.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

Hope you liked it :) Happy birthday old man

[missarchive]

pretty boy - preview

spencer reid

summary; Spencer Reid, intelligent but unversed in certain aspects of life, looks for guidance in unfamiliar territory. When he connects with someone more experienced, a dynamic forms that challenges both of them. As they explore trust, boundaries, and control, they uncover new layers of themselves and each other.

cw; +18 minors dni, heavy bdsm themes (literally the whole plot of the fic), sub!spencer, mommy kink, inexperienced!spencer, phone sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, overstimulation, orgasm denial, edging, use of toys, cumplay, spit, spencer really likes being dominated

an; this is just a teaser for my new series! the content warnings do not apply to this preview, but they will become apparent when i post this in full. as always, feedback is appreciated, let me know what you think so far <3

The city hums in the background, its pulse a constant buzz of movement, opportunity, and noise. For Spencer Reid, the chaos outside is nothing compared to the quiet turmoil inside. A mind brimming with knowledge, yet devoid of the experiences most take for granted. His days with the BAU are filled with cases, theories, and human behaviour—things he can analyse, but never truly understand on a personal level.

In the confines of his apartment, Spencer finds solace in routines, in solitude. Yet, there’s something missing. A craving he’s ignored for too long, one he can’t quite name. His loneliness isn’t just the absence of people—it’s the absence of connection, of something deeper.

This craving takes him down a path he never expected, one that leads him to an online forum—a place where boundaries can be explored, where he can ask questions he’s too hesitant to voice in person. Here, he begins his journey, unsure of what he’s seeking, but certain that something must change.

You sit back in your chair, eyes scanning the screen before you. It's late, and the dim light of your desk lamp casts shadows across the room. The soft hum of your laptop is the only sound, aside from the occasional click of your mouse as you navigate through the forum. The world of BDSM, of dominance and submission, has always intrigued you—not just the physical aspect, but the psychological and emotional depth it brings. You’ve been part of this world for years, and while some things have remained constant, you’ve always known that the most powerful dynamic isn’t about control for the sake of control—it’s about trust, nurturing, and care.

Tonight, though, it’s different.

You weren’t planning to interact with anyone new, but something about a particular post catches your attention. His name is Spencer, a man in his mid-twenties, just beginning his exploration into BDSM. The post is hesitant, a little unsure, yet it holds an honesty you can't ignore. He’s seeking advice, asking for guidance—he doesn’t have much experience, but he’s eager to learn. His words are sincere, almost fragile in their vulnerability. You can sense his hesitation, his uncertainty, but there’s something about his openness that makes you feel a sudden protective instinct.

You’re not new to guiding others, to teaching someone how to navigate their desires and boundaries. But this feels different. Spencer doesn’t seem like someone who’s seeking a casual encounter or someone just wanting to explore for fun. He seems like he’s genuinely seeking a deeper connection, a way to understand himself in a way he hasn’t had the chance to before. And that’s something you can relate to. 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you consider your response. You don’t want to scare him off with too much, but you also want to reassure him that he’s not alone in this. He’s not the first person to feel uncertain, and he certainly won’t be the last.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

[s0urw00lf]

Accidents happen

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

Summary: You and Neteyam find solace in each other. Maybe a little too much…

Requested by anon

AN: girl i’m so sorry it took me so long to get this out, i was procrastinating. But i hope you like it and maybe ill do a part two???

The night was quiet, and the waves of the ocean were soothing the nerves going haywire in your stomach. As the next in line of tsahik your connection with eywa was deep, even more so than your mothers for a reason unknown to you. You couldn’t help but worry something terrible was coming but you had no idea whatsoever what it was, that’s why you sat at the edge of the village on a rock, dangling your feet into the water. The pit in your stomach was heavy with bad feelings that were unknown to you. The waves softly crashing into the rock was working wonders calming your nerves, this was the most relaxed you’d been in weeks. You were relaxed but still alert, which is why your ears perked up when you heard footsteps coming from behind you.

You discreetly grabbed your knife out of its sheath attached to your hip, and when the footsteps got close enough you whipped around holding your knife menacingly. At the sight of the familiar boy holding up his hands in surrender after letting a ‘woah’ slip out, you lowered your knife. “I apologize I did not mean to scare you” he apologized, after lowering his hands. You let out a sigh in relief, “it is okay, guess i wasn't expecting anyone to be awake at this time” you said, returning back to your seated position on the rock facing the sea. He nodded in understanding, both that you saw though nor did you really care. “May I join you?” He asked, making you turn your head to him. You pondered for a second before nodding and turning your focus back on the horizon.

You two sat in silence before he spoke “what are you doing awake anyway?”. You looked over to him thinking of an answer “I am not sure if i'm honest. Just needed some peace away from the hustle of the clan i guess” you said not really wanting to go into detail. “What about you forest boy” you teased lightly. He smiled at the nickname you and your sister had graced him and his brother with. “It reminds me of home,” he said, gesturing to the line of trees about ten feet away. You nodded, “do you miss it?” You asked in curiosity. “More than anything” he immediately answered. Your expression softened, “I can not imagine it, being torn away from everything I’ve grown to know and having to start all over, that must be so hard” you said in thought, the thought hurts just thinking about it. “I can not show how badly I miss home, I must be the example for my siblings. I have to like it here so they do” he frowned, dropping his head .“My parents would not let me know peace until I achieved every task with ease” you frowned at the thought.

Neteyam tilted his head in wonder “your parents are hard on you?” He asked. You almost let out a laugh “Of course, I am the oldest, I set the example I hold the future of the clan in my hands. And do not even get me started on when my brother disobeys its always my job to watch over him and take the fall though I don’t have to worry about it much with Tsireya.” You said, feeling irritation arise. Turns out Neteyam had the same problem with his father. “I did not know, I have the same issue with my parents and skxawng brother. It is so hard sometimes, being the perfect son. Making sure I’m doing everything right while keeping an eye out for my siblings and not disappointing my parents” he vented.

“Growing up I always looked out to my parents and how amazing they were. They are strong and great leaders and I wanted to be that too, but now looking back I don’t feel as if I am. My parents do not look at me like they do my siblings; like I’m their child. Instead it is as if I am a soldier. I must do everything right, pass every test and look graceful while doing it so I don’t scare off possible mates. And do not mistake me I love my siblings with everything in me but it is so hard, I just wish to freeze time sometimes so I can breathe.” You ranted, somehow finding out that you were not alone in this life made you feel better. Neteyam is not judging you for letting your guard down and wanting to be normal. He’s listening and understanding and that is what you needed at this point in time. You both sat in silence after your admission. He reached over and grabbed your hand and you looked down an your hands and entertained your fingers with his. “I- I have this feeling in my stomach, a bad feeling like something bad is coming.” You let it slip fiddling with his fingers. You didn’t know why he mad you fee so comfortable but you couldn’t complain. Your whole life you’d had up this strong front but he was able to tear it down in a matter of seconds. He lifted his other hand to gently grab your face. Your eyes met his and immediately you saw the softness in his eyes, you also saw how beautiful he was. The glowing dots on his face were beautiful at night. You had never really looked at him before but you were confused on how you couldn’t see how attractive he was. He began to lean in, your breath hitched and your heart rate picked up. “Is this okay” he asked, his breathe fanned over your lips. You nodded and connected your lips.

That night things happened. You were not proud of it, in fact the feeling in your stomach worsened. You and neteyam actively avoided each other, you were terrified for your parents to find out, scared that they would desert the sullys and disown you. You’d been a ball of stress walking around the clan, ‘what would they say? We aren’t even mated’ you wondered. A few days later you found out you were with child after your body had begun to reject your food and your heart practically stopped. You tried to find any way to be away from your family when you ate just so your mother wouldn’t connect the dots. Eyes why? Was this what she was warning you about? Was it meant to be this way?

One day when you were sitting on your ilu at the edge of the reef your siblings had shown up much to your surprise. “Sister, you’re avoiding us” tsireya said worried. You frowned getting defensive “im not, im busy completing my tasks” you lied quickly. Aounung gave you a look as if saying ‘really?’ “I am, okay? I have a lot to complete before the ceremony” you said. Tsireya shook her head “are you okay? Whatever it is you can tell us we wont tell. Even if mom and dad are getting suspicious” she said muttering the last part. At that your walls crumbled, tears filled your eyes and cascaded down your face, “they will hate me, i can’t tell them. You cant tell them” you begged tears still falling downy our face. They both nodded profusely. “I- i am with child” you admitted. Both of their faces mirrored horror, Aonung more angry and Tsireya just complete shock. “What were you thinking, you know mom and dad will-” your brother scolded but you cut him off “will do nothing because you wont tell. Right?” You asked. You both stared each other down and eventually he gave up sending you a nod. “Who?” Tsereya asked, you knew she didn’t want to finish the sentence. You hesitated looking down “neteyam”.

”sister tell me you are joking” tsereya said, her face again filled with horror. “Why would i joke? I was stupid and now i'm paying the price. Hiding it from my family, mom and dad would send them away, the cannot suffer for my stupidity. They can be as disappointed in me as they want, not like it's anything new.” You defended. “Does he know?” Your brother questioned. You shook your head “no”. He scoffed “every word that comes out of your mouth makes me question how we are related.” He said. You squinted your eyes at him in irritation. “What hes saying is maybe you should talk to him. Come up with a plan and go from there. He deserves to know. He is just as responsible as you” tsireya interrupted before an argument could break out. You frowned in thought. If he accepts it you wouldn’t be completely alone if your parents decided to rid themselves of you. You nodded, making your way back to shore to find neteyam not sure how you’d break it to him.

— with neteyam —

his family noticed he’d been acting weird. He started getting irritated easily his fuse was short and no one knew why. “Bro whats your problem” lo’ak asked, getting irritated at Neteyam attitude. “Nothing, lo’ak” he replied shortly, dropping the pile of nets he was told to bring home by an elder. He entered his family’s mauri pod noting that his parents were watching him not so discreetly, something they’d been doing since they noticed his odd behavior. “Did you get the nets?” Jake asked, neteyam wanted to yell or throw something or hit someone. “Over there sir” he said pointing to the entrance to the pod. “Kid i told you to drop it off with my ilu” Jake scolded, neteyam walked over to the nets and grabbed them, his ears pinned back and his tail swished impatiently. He tossed the nets on th ilu waiting at the dock. He re-entered the pod “now its with your ilu like you asked” he said irritation lacing his tone. The pod filled with a thick tension.

Everyone held their breath waiting for Jake to do or say something. Jake stood making his way to neteyam grabbing his arm harshly “Hey! What the hell is your problem boy? Huh?” Jake asked, neteyam could feel the anger radiating from his father and lowered his head in shame. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. Not in front of his siblings. Not in front of his father. He had to keep it together. But he couldn’t keep the tears from pooling in his eyes. He lifted his head to meet his fathers eyes. “No problem sir” he said.

Jake immediately noticed the tears brimming his eyes and his grip loosened. “May i be excused” neteyam asked, his voice didn’t give away the tears in his eyes, but Jake could see the pleading look in his sons eyes. Jake nodded, in shock having not expected to ever see his son on the verge of tears right in front of him. Neteyam quickly took his leave. Kiri and lo’ak followed quickly after him. Jake turned to neytiri still in shock. She looked at him with confusion, she couldn’t see neteyam ace over Jake’s shoulder. “He was on the verge of crying” Jake told her. Her eyebrows raised and the same question filled both of their heads ‘what the hell happened’

Lo’ak and kiri easily found Neteyam sitting with his hands in his head. “What happened” Lo’ak questioned, seriously this time. “And if you say nothing i will throw a rock at your head” kiri kinda but not really joked. Neteyam shook his head his hair swaying with the rhythm of his head. “I messed up” Neteyam admitted. Lo’ak folded his arms “what could you have done that bad” he asked. Neteyam looked up to his sibling who were standing right in front of him. “Y/n an di spent the night together” he said. The silence that followed after Neteyams confession was deafening. Lo’ak and kiri looked at each other with wide eyes, confirming that they both heard right. ‘Did you mate with her?” Lo’ak asked. Neteyam shook his head, the lump in his throat prevented him from speaking. He was terrified, if his parents find out he was sure his dad would skin him and his mom would do nothing to stop it, but eywa help him if your parents find out. His family was at risk of being kicked out all because of him and that guilt ate him alive. “Have you checked on her?” Kiri asked, sitting down beside him. “No, I do not think I can” he said. Kiri sighed disappointed. “You idiot brother of mine, she could be going through worse than you. Man up and go talk to her. We’ll take care of mom and dad for now.” Kiri said. “Yeah go, don't be a wuss” lo’ak joked patting Neteyam’s shoulder. He felt lighter knowing he had his siblings support, so he nodded, standing up and walking away. “He is so dead” Kiri said. “This puts me in the clear for the next 10 years” lo’ak smiled.

— back with you —

you found neteyam way quicker than you would’ve liked, his dark blue skin stuck out in the crowd of teal blue metkayina. You slowly approached him, his back was turned toward you and he looked as if he was looking for something. Or someone. “Neteyam” you called. You saw his tail still and body go rigid. He turned around towards you with wide eyes. “Y/n” he said. You both stared at each other, behind him you saw his siblings peeking from behind a rock. “You told them?” You asked softly. He nodded, “just kiri and lo’ak” he said. You nodded “i think we should talk” you said. Neteyams heart dropped. He was afraid of the possibilities. He nodded, “would you like to go somewhere more private?” he asked. You nodded and the two of you began to walk towards the place you’d met that night.

Once you were there and settled, your heart was racing “i- i do not know what to-“ you cut yourself off with a sob. The fear of the unknown was beginning to get to you. Neteyam grabbed your hands and shh’ed you “Mawey, breathe” he said. You nodded, trying to catch your breath. after a minut or so, your mind was a little clearer, thought you still didn’t know how to break it to him. “I’m with child” you said, it slipped out before you could stop yourself. This time it was neteyam who froze. He hadn’t even thought about this possibility. A child. His world felt as if he stopped spinning. “Neteyam we are only 16 years of age, how can we- we’re not even mated” your mind raced faster than you could talk. You wondered how you had known longer than him and was still the most worried between the two of you, he looked deeply in thought. “Maybe we could still go through with it but in a traditional way” he spoke.

you looked at him in wonder, urging him to continue. ‘We could do the ceremony, I will court you and we will mate before you start to show. When the baby comes it will be ‘early’ but healthy” he explained. You were shocked at how quickly he was able to come up with an efficient plan on such short notice. “That could work, but are you sure you wan-“ “i want nothing more, i mean i never planned on a child this early but we could make it work” he said with full sincerity. You nodded “okay, we can do it, but we should probably speed the process” you said. He agreed, pulling you in for a hug, you relaxed in his arms for the first time in a week. You felt like you could breathe again. Everything was gonna be okay, not to mention your mother secretly liked neteyam, so if he was trying to court you she'd accept it. And your father would just want you to pick someone who could protect you and nobody was more trained for that than neteyam. “We’ll be okay” you said leaning your head into his chest. He answered with a “yes”

[darlinluxx]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : none

a/n : ty for all the love <3 i have so many works i can’t wait to post

summary : happiness is a butterfly and you seemed to catch it when you’re in the arms of your girlfriend

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the room. it was a gentle lull of normalcy, a sound Saebyeok was still learning to trust. beside her, asleep, was you.

You were the opposite of everything Saebyeok had come to know. you were warmth to her, a flickering candle in the desolate landscape of Saebyeok’s past.

Saebyeok watched you, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her lips. your hair was splayed across the pillow, framing a face so peaceful it almost felt surreal. your breathing was shallow and even, a comforting rhythm in the silence. Saebyeok traced a stray strand of hair away from your cheek with a finger, the simple act sending a jolt of warmth through her.

you two had been slow, cautious, building this fragile sanctuary brick by brick. Saebyeok finding you had been an accident, a chance encounter in a poorly lit bookstore. she didn’t know how she got so lucky that you accidentally spilled coffee on her.

the two of you started with timid conversations, hesitant smiles, and stolen glances. it had been you who gently coaxed her out of her shell, your patient understanding a balm to Saebyeok’s fractured soul. you had never pushed, never pried, simply offering a hand, a shoulder, and now a quiet space.

now, here you were, two women who found solace in the simple act of existing alongside each other. Saebyeok carefully shifted, pulling you closer to her, wrapping her arms around your waist. you murmured softly in your sleep.

Saebyeok held you tighter, feeling the warmth of your body seep into her own. she had always been alone, always fighting, always surviving. now, for the first time, she felt a different kind of strength, a strength derived not from resilience, but from love.

she closed her eyes, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest lull her into a state of quiet peace. she knew the past would always be a part of her, a shadow lingering in the corners of her mind. but now, she also had the light, the beautiful, unwavering light that was you.

she kissed the top of your head, a silent promise whispered on her lips. she would protect this, she would cherish this. she had fought so hard to survive all her life, and when you were in her arms, she finally felt like she had something worth fighting for.

the hum of the air conditioner continued its gentle song, a background to the quiet symphony of your shared existence. and as the sun began to paint the sky with the soft hues of dawn, Saebyeok fell asleep, finally at peace, holding the woman she loved so dearly in her arms.

[secretress]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦. 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡��𝐧, 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.❞

A love letter from your future spouse

🍓 ݁₊ ⊹ . 🥛 ౨ৎ Masterlist Subliminal Channel Tips

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐 ౨ৎ 18+ Readings Paid Readings Tarot Services

Pac Summary!

♡ A fs love letter.

♡ One angel number with an intuitive message/meaning of the number.

♡ Resonated channeled song and its lyrics with intuitive messages added to it.

Moodboard | Divider

Pile I

Hi love, hi sunshine.

What's up? How are you doing, my pretty flower? Well, in all honesty, I am awful with words, and a love letter is hard, but I will suck it up just to show my love for you.

Sometimes. When I look at the stars, I will think about you. Sometimes, when I glance at lily ponds, I will daydream about you. And sometimes when I call you, I fawn over the little things you do, because every little thing you do is incredibly beautiful and deserves to be fawn over.

Sometimes, when I struggle and miss your presence, I remember that I can always call you and ramble about the small things during my days. I can find that solace even if we are far apart... And sometimes that scares me because what if we lost touch with one another—that I would never get to see you? All of these doubts eat me alive, but then I hear your small laughs about my days, and all of them disappear.

Do you think one day we could start a family? Maybe I believe anything is possible—after all, I landed someone as perfect as you (psst, I manifested you). So the fact that I have you as my lover makes me wonder if I can ever have kids with you. We can adopt too; I don't care, but having biological kids with you would also be so lovely.. After all, everything about you is lovely. I am someone who always gives too much love to others, so if it's too much, let me know, but loving you is so easy. How can one stop that? That scares me.. If you ever told me to stop loving you so much, it would make me feel like I was losing a small part of myself. Quite frankly, I don't think I could ever deal with that—I just, I just couldn't.

When I looked at the sky the other day, I kept thinking about our connection. I know we don't know each other. Hell, I'm fucking daydreaming about you right now, but I really want to see you. Maybe one day we will meet each other, and when we do, I will become the happiest person alive. Because the idea of loving someone I am manifesting is something.. It's.. it's just. I can't express it with words, but it's definitely something so magical. Everything in my heart is fluttering with happiness because I get to see you smile in my presence. I always thought I wasn't worthy of love. Look at us. Fuck. Thank you for loving me.

Thank you (x5) for loving me.

Fs. 

I was listening to Terrified by Katharine McPhee, and as I was editing your reading at "when I look at stars'' the song said, ''every word feels like a shooting star.'' So for those who have doubts about this relationship, do understand that this is really your confirmation.

Angel numbers: 1222

Meaning of 1222 through an intuitive message. 1 is usually associated with goals and what you're looking for. 2 is usually associated with reminding you that everything is going to be okay and that you are in the right place. Combining both of them, intuition says, ‘’you are in the right place. All the hard work you have been doing for yourself—all the shadow work that you have been journaling, all the beautiful messages you have been giving to yourself—is what will help you find your goals. Your ideas which you keep postponing are something that needs to be done. Stop procrastinating and do it right now. You will never know when the right time comes since it doesn't exist. Make it your right time.’’ Basically, intuition says there is no such thing as diving timing. Divine timing doesn't actually exist since it's all about healing and treating ourselves with kindness. It's all about what we do during those times we have during our isolation, or, in a positive sense, our resting period. Truthfully, since you are working on yourself and removing your inner demons for yourself and not for others (since I heard that a lot of people think you are doing it for a boy when you aren't), you can attract your future spouse with the speed of light and grab the fruits. The fruits are your manifestations or your wishes in life. 

Channeled song: 

Invisible - Hunter Hayes

‘’And you've been trying for so long / To find out where your place is.’’ This is about you trying to figure out where you belong. Intuition says people in your life believe all the hard work you are doing is for this man, your ex, or someone you used to have feelings for. The people in your circle are very close-minded, but deep down inside, the fear of letting go of these connections scares you, so you let them stay. If I were in your place, I would let them go since people like that don't deserve to be in my world. And I feel like some of you will say, ‘’yeah because you aren't dealing with it’’ and for those who have said that, lol, I just let go of a friend group like that 2-3 weeks ago. So let them go and realize all the beauty that will come out of it.

‘’And you're not invisible / Hear me out / There's so much more to life than what you're feeling now / Someday you'll look back on all these days / And all this pain is gonna be invisible.’’ This is your future spouse calling out to you and yearning for your love. They are letting you know that when you look back on your life, you are not only going to feel blessed with how your life went but also come to the realization that there is more to life than the negativity you are feeling and associating yourself with. This person is going to make you feel like magic, (which is something you deserve, and you cannot tell me otherwise).

‘’So your confidence is quiet / To them, quiet looks like weakness / But you don't have to fight it / 'Cause you're strong enough to win without a war.’’ Basically, intuition says your intuition and higher self are telling you, ‘’even though you are a quiet person. Despite you being timid, none of these are bad qualities; it makes you stronger because you are observing everything and you know others' deepest, darkest secrets through their behaviors. So don't let your skills go in vain.’’ To sum it up, if there is any confusion, people perceive quiet and shy people as fragile and needing help, but in reality, it could be that or they have no desire to speak to people that do not intrigue them or aren't worth their time. People don't see that because they are lost in fitting in with the crowd. Your higher self and my intuition are saying, don't fit in the crowd and do your own thing. Not only will that attract your fs but also heal your heart that you have been blocking with bricks to protect yourself from the pain your inner circle is causing and your deadbeat parent (I hear father, but I also believe it could be the mother for some).

‘’These labels that they give you is just 'cause they don't understand / If you look past this moment / You'll see you've got a friend / Waving a flag for who you are.’’ And lastly :), this is your fs telling you that they will always have your back no matter what. And they love you so fucking badly. Emphasis on so fucking badly, I could hear your fs tell me to add that in. 

Masterlist ♡

Pile II

Hi, my love. 

As your future spouse, it’s my duty to defend and honor our promises, but sometimes I mess up because I'm shy. I'm sorry in advance, but I try very hard, but I mess things up. Sometimes I feel like a child when you scold me.. I know sometimes you feel disappointed with the things I do, but I ask you.. As of now, please treat me with more dignity and respect. I'm human, just like you. Do you think a child deserves this treatment? No. 

Okay, before I fully channel everything, this pile has toxic energy. You have caused your fs an insane amount of anxiety and trauma, so now that you are aware of this. Why don't you improve as a person? This person is absolutely soft and adorable, and they do not deserve that type of energy).

Sometimes, at night, I like to walk along the streams or near our pond area in our backyard and feel the coolness around my feet. The water tickles my feet gently, and the water droplet splashes around the soles of my feet. The feeling is so warm and relaxing, just like you once were. What happened to that? Why did you let them take away (your name's)  golden heart? Why do I deserve the same treatment when I was by your side this whole time? I was never and will never be your enemy, so please change for the better. I want (your name) back; (your gender) was deserving of the greatest, and so am I. Please go back to them and let me honor my promise again. I wanted to protect you, but now it’s too hard. I cannot do it anymore. I am writing this love letter to you in the hopes that you change for the better. In hopes my words and my love being poured onto this can shift you and make you realize that you are now the reason I despise myself, the reason why I struggle to love myself. I don't want to stay in this stale situation; I want to move on, and I want you to move on and treat me better. So maybe.. I will now try to show you the love we felt when we met instead of now. Since you feel like poison.

When we danced in the park that one night, the moonlight shone on top of us. Like we were the main characters of a romantic movie. Do you remember that feeling when we were laughing together and I finally saw you smile? That happiness shattering your stoic face—it was incredible. I realized that that was the moment I fell in love with you. My heart jumped out of my chest that day. Do you remember when we had small dates with each other and you bought me something small? You thought I wouldn't wear it because of your ex(es), but I did, and your eyes widen. Do you remember that softness appearing on your face that day? I remember it vividly. I blushed that day and hid it with a cough. Do you remember me constantly coughing that day, and you wondered why this was happening? Do you remember how I kicked your shoes and said it was an accident so you could look under the table and not notice me covering my flushed face because of that facial expression you had? The realization that someone did, in fact, love you. God, I remember that feeling so well. It made me so happy. I remember all of these small moments with you, and I know that you will. One day, it will happen just as it should.. But then something happened: you shut everyone away, especially me, and sabotage everything at the end because it was better to be a cold-hearted bitch than stay and let me protect you. Please, (your name), realize that I love you despite what you have done to me. I can forgive you; I really can, but I want your real self back. Let me love them, let me shower them with compliments; just let me back in. 

I forgive you,

Fs. 

So this is written in past and future tense. Of course, these dates haven’t happened for you, however, I wasn’t able to channel them from a present perspective for the majority of the letter. They were focused on pouring their love on you without thinking. It was a desperate call for you to change and not become cold. And for many of you, not for you to become the one thing you hated. So instead, learn to heal your open wounds and better yourself instead of being an ass in the future. 

Angel number: 777.

Usually, 777 is associated with good luck, or good luck and prosperity are heading your way. However, intuition says, ‘’despite good luck (your fs) coming your way, allowing those icky thoughts to reappear constantly in your head is what will mess things up in the future with your fs. In order to remove these thoughts, work on your inner feelings and improve yourself. Do not allow evil to invade who you are as a person, and instead, allow the kindness that you still have to shine upon you and shield you from the dangers of others. Become the person you desire and still love. Do not become them, you will be miserable.’’ So, basically, working on your inner feelings is healing your inner demons. Everyone deals with them, but it’s our responsibility to actually take care of them and make them angels, or, in this case, remove them from your system. Taking care of them or removing them, however you see fit, is all about being kind to yourself and removing the high standards you have for yourself. And in order to be kind to yourself, think of your favorite person, object, whatever, and think, ‘’would I be a jackass to them/it?’’ No, you would treat it or them with respect and love because it’s your favorite thing. Think of it like that with yourself. You can use your kindness to protect yourself. Usually, kindness has a bad reputation because people who are kind either become people pleasers, get taken advantage of, etc., but you could always balance your kindness and rational thoughts so you don’t get hurt like your future self did. Because this situation has not occurred yet, as of now, try to balance those two out. Also, imagine that (your favorite color) aura or bubble is surrounding you and protecting you from evil. 

Channeled anime: 

Death Note 

I am aware this is completely different, and you were promised a song, but I wasn’t able to do that as Light from death note kept appearing in my mind. For those who are watching this, ignore this since there are spoilers, and if you are still curious, I’ll keep it as vague as I can. 

(Please, remember, this is about your future self. Not your present self). 

The reason my intuition mentioned an anime instead of a song is how Light, the main character, became the person he hated. This is what you have become. His desires were to protect the innocent, but ultimately he did the opposite. As time goes on throughout the show, he starts to become power-hungry, but in your case, it’s a lust for isolation. He saw everything as a game, and with you, you used your kindness as an advantage to abuse your spouse (I know you are saying you would never, but you did in the future). And also, hurt your friends to gain advantages or small tokens of something to get ahead of life and get whatever you want. Not only, in the future, do you break your morals, lose your respect from others and your inner child, but fuck things up all for power. Power, isolation, and hatred for what others did to you. Do you believe this is worth it just because you were hurt? Why do you want to hurt people who didn't do anything? You got hurt, sought revenge on those who didn't hurt you, and became like your abusers. Your future self keeps mentioning, ‘’karma’s a bitch.’’ And yet, how can it be if it’s aimed at those who cannot do much? I know you want to be protected and understood, but how can you if you allowed this to occur and pushed those away who were, in fact, protecting you but in the shadows? Use this as your guide and change for the better since fate doesn’t exist, not really. And if you believe in it, then change your fate. Become your own guide and improve. Because your energy will be awful, the way you have treated others in the future will be awful, and I feel the anxiety radiating off of you—you don't like who you have become in the future. So, don't change, protect yourself instead.

Masterlist ♡

Pile III

Hi sun, hellooo to my sun. Hi, hi, hiiii, hi. 

I’m saying a lot of hi to you because I'm ecstatic to be around you. Your personality makes me very happy, yay. You're reading this right now, so lucky me. I just have to say this: I wish right now you were with me so I could run to you, jump into your arms, and peck you like a goose, and if you ever become sick with me, well, you can't! I won't allow it, so that means you can’t pick someone else; only me, me and drum roll, please! Me!

I really love talking to you–OH wait, well, we haven't met yet, but I do! We will stay up all night talking to each other, and the thought makes me giggle~ You are my favorite sun person… Well, I know you are going to call me the sun, but nope! I am the star around the moon waiting for you, so when you go up and chase your ambitious goals, I am at home rooting for you. Sorry, I'm a homebody, so I don't like going out so much, but I'll go out just for you! That is how special you are; of course, I can't really explain it through this letter, so we have to meet first! With that being said, you are the sun because you brighten up my world and everyone around you. I know right now you are feeling depressed, but fear not! I am coming; actually, psttt, I am dashing towards you like Sonic, and if Mario had a baby, wait. NO WAIT, I MEANT IF SONIC AND THE FLASH HAD A BABY OMG NOOO IM SORRY. As I was saying, coughs if Sonic and the flash had a baby together—that’s how fast I am coming to–ru–RUNNING TO YOU, FUCK IM SORRY. I'M SO EXCITED, I KNOW I DON'T HAVE TO APOLOGIZE BUT I AM EXCITED. Anyway, as I am saying, I am running to you if the flash and Sonic had a baby together, because that’s how fast I am, and in other places, if you know what I mean, raising my eyebrows in a funny but sexy way. 

Oh, that reminds me, btw: don't eat green apples when we meet because you're going to choke on them and die! No, I am joking about the die part, but you do choke a lot, and I become very scared because we are friends at that time, and well, I think youre going to die, but I know that you aren't, but I think you might, so it scares me and I can't handle it, and now I am rambling, but you get the point, so no apples for a week, so that means you are kind of like a horse on a diet... Even though they eat apples, imagine that you are a horse who can't eat apples! Yes!!! Oh, wait, why would you be a horse? Okay, wait, it doesn't matter because you are my horse, so that makes me a princess/prince and therefore you gotta protect me. Wait.

This is a love letter, NOOOOOOO, wait. Lets start! I love you so much. You make me so happy that I can ramble on for no reason, and you are enjoying every part of it. Thats why I like things about you because you listen to me and hear me out, and you make me happy. I am rambling again, but this time it doesn't matter because it's all abouttttt yooooouuuuu. Yeah so i love you A LOT and YOU mean the WOOOORRRRLLLLDDDD to me and thank you for being–THANK YOU FOR–WAIT. I AM GLAD THAT I WILL MEET YOU, SO THEN THANK YOU FOR BEING IN MY WORLD. All this present and future stuff is making my head spin, like those anime drawings of the characters or the other animations or drawing pieces you see on websites or drawing platforms. Oh yeah, did you know that I am an artist? Yeah, me neither, thats because you taught me how to draw gremlin laugh, but yeah, cya later!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The bestestttt (not a word i know that shut up, grumpy face) perrrrrrssssssoooooooonnnnn evvvvveeeeeerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!! Ya gal/lad is outie five thousand!

I kept feeling rambling and childlike wonder with your future spouse. You make them very comfortable with who they are as a person, and with this, they can channel their inner child with you. You will show them new hobbies, and because of this, in the future, it will become their career. So despite this, if some of you are not artists, you will be opening a new world for them in the art field because art isn’t only drawing, animation, etc.; it does have music or poetry involved. 

Angel number: 1313.

On an energy level, the number symbolizes a goal you had in mind shifting and transforming into your reality because you were able to trust your gut feelings and allow things to come into your nature. You used to be afraid of change or those who gave you things; asking for help scared you. Now you are healing toward that goal and learning to let go when people help. You are able to prioritize things that make you happy, even if it’s a one-time thing, because chasing things does become hard, but knowing now that you are able to get the things you want makes you blessed. You embody the attitude of gratitude, and from now on until the end of August, things will come in abundance. Keep embodying this attitude to further it until the end of the year. When the end of the year comes, make more goals for yourself, but find goals that are worth what you are looking for. Understand who your higher self is, and ask them what goals helped them become who they are now. Your higher self isn’t necessarily your future self; you worked hard to become your desired self. So make sure you learn what is actually important for you while also listening to the same gut feeling that you have. People say 13 in general is an unlucky number. Still, some people ditch their ideas on the number and make it their favorite number. Intuition says not to follow people’s guidance when it comes to things that don't make sense; don’t follow the crowd if it’s not something you are actually agreeing on or intrigued with. Make sure to follow what you believe in, and if people find that to be stubborn, then who cares? Make sure you do things that make you happier in the long term before you meet this ray of sunshine. 

Channeled Song: 

Sunsetz - Cigarettes after sex

‘’Strangely, there's nobody else around / So you open your dress and show me your t*ts / On the swing set at the old playground / And when you go away I still see you / The sunlight on your face in my rearview.’’ Aside from the 18+ nature of the song, the minute I heard it play, I knew it was from your future spouse. As we are aware, they are full of light and embody a star nature; this song beat felt the same way. When the song said, ‘’Strangely, there's nobody else around / So you open your dress and show me your t*ts’’ I heard your future spouse laugh at this because, despite their gender, they are prone to being open about the sexual world. And the idea of showing their chest to you makes them excited. Of course, this isn’t an 18+ reading, so I cannot add more. ‘’On the swing set at the old playground / And when you go away I still see you’’  is about them showing you all of their childish nature and you accepting them. Because I hear your future spouse mention, ‘’thank you very much for accepting me for who I am. I had many people ignore me or disrespect me constantly because I had to act my age. But you were the only one in the entire worrrrrldddd to accept and love me without expecting anything.’’ Also, intuitively, they are always going to daydream cute scenarios with you and see you as a cutie despite your rough nature. Because everywhere they go and explore the depths of the world, you will have to accompany them. In the flesh or not. They will daydream you near them if you cannot make it or if it's a long-distance relationship (for some). 

‘’A love that nobody could destroy / Took photographs like Brautigan's book covers / That we both adored.’’ So, I feel a lot of third parties coming into this relationship on their side. A lot of people are jealous of them and cannot handle the fact that they finally found someone who appreciates their true qualities. So a lot of toxic people will try to sabotage the friendship at first and then eventually the relationship, and they are naive, so they might believe it, so be careful with that. Eventually, though, I do see them realizing it, and the fact that you stayed makes them love you harder, hence all the ramblings (you making them comfortable to do so). Both of you are going to take a lot of pictures together and post them on social media, whereas those who don’t use social media often will make collages out of them and decorate them around their room or apartment. Some will hide it from their parents, and others will boast about it positively. Just stay careful, because you never know other people’s intentions with it. ‘’That we both adored.’’ This just shows how healthy and beautiful the relationship will become for you when they ask you out. I feel a lot of you always ask other people out, and you have mentioned it to them once, so the idea of asking you out makes them happy because it’s removing a boulder off your shoulder. All I will say is that they will be the reason why you find true happiness since a majority of you are chasing the idea of happiness. With them, you can feel it and keep it; it’s not a one time thing; this leads to a beautiful thing. I’ll stop here since I don't want to give you any spoilers about it. 

Masterlist ♡

Pile IV

Tw: Abuse

Hi, my dear,

Right now, I have been feeling down in the dumps. Things have been tough, very tough. Lately, I have been struggling to find happiness in my life. And I was praying for something, anything to feel something. But nothing came through, this broke me further. Then I started to realize something.. Why should I ask someone for help when I can do it myself?

So that is what I have been doing. I'm working on myself, so when we meet, you have someone you can be devoted to. I know it sounds like I'm not actually taking care of myself, but I am. And it sounds like I am only working on myself for you, as if all of this is for you and not me; some of it is partially true, but at the same time, I am thinking of myself. It’s important that you do the same thing, because I know you like to do things for other people but don't.

You know, I see you struggling to get your job or homework done. I am in the same boat. We are the same after all. I think it’s special that we are on the same path, the same journey, and most of all, the same love level. We both had it rough with a lover, but you know what? We can make that our special bond; I'm not saying that is what our relationship is about—I'm saying it could connect us further and see where everything takes us. You know how people bond over something negative, and that makes them fall for one another? I don't want that. (I hear them laughing and then smiling). All I am saying with my gibberish words is that sometimes people use their trauma to bond with each other, but they can like other things. Does that make sense? Sorry, love, I'm absolute garbage with words. Everything is a mess, isn't it? Again, sorry. Now, I want to start with the actual love letter.

Dear (your name),

Our future is bright. It’s beautiful. I will be the one to shower you with all the riches and luxuries in the world, and all I ask for is your beautiful heart. The heart that you have hidden from the world from all the negativities you were given isn't you anymore. We are connected like one. This is your reward for still staying sane. I know everything as of now is complicated, but do know I will find you one day, have a rose in my hand, and ask you to be mine. I know that sometimes you doubt if I will ever come, but remember that those who wait have the best rewards. Sure, I sound arrogant, but no, I know my worth in the future, and I know you will too. It’s okay to appear arrogant; what matters is on the inside. People's judgment is useless, just like their opinions of us. So don't focus on their chaotic and negative words; focus on what I tell you. I want to guide you and make you love yourself so much. Even when you know your worth, let me show you all that you can know. I want to marry you one day. I want to bathe you with all of my love. I want everything from you, and I will give you everything. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. I know that we haven't met, but I will say the same thing because it’s the truth. This is why I love you, (your full name). Thank you for being my blessing and for being my princess (regardless of your gender). 

Take care with lots of love,

fs.

Angel number: 2266 

2 is about being in the right place, and whoever you believe in is telling you that you shouldn’t worry. 6 is about mental diet, focusing on the positive to align you with your higher self. Whenever negative thoughts appear, remind yourself that this isn’t good for you. Negativity isn't good for anyone. Remind yourself that you are deserving of love. Learn to heal with patience and care. If you force yourself to heal, you never will. Forcing ourselves isn’t consistency; it’s abuse. Sure, sometimes it looks like it helps us, but then we stop doing it and relapse into the same loop. Do you like to be controlled and forced by others? I doubt it. Don't do the same thing; you are not deserving of it. What you are deserving of is love. Give yourself the love you deserve and need. It's important that you prioritize yourself instead of others' needs since people come and go, and don't be the one to let yourself go for someone else. It's not worth it, and your love and presence aren't determined by whether someone appreciates the good deeds you do for others. Your worth is dependent on what you do for yourself, so if you believe taking time for yourself and doing something for yourself is selfish, then it's selfish. But would you say the same thing to the people you work your ass off for? No, don't be a hypocrite to yourself. 

 Channeled song:

Therapy Session - NF

‘’My music is violent, you gotta be kidding me. I guess that your definition of violence and mine is something that we look at differently.’’ This is your fs telling you to start looking at things differently. You always see the good in people, even when they make a mistake. Even when they piss you off, even when they hurt you (not by accident), you always forgive them without a second thought. Don't do that, it’s hurting you just like it’s hurting them. ‘’Do you honestly want to be stuck in quicksand all the time? Don't do that, princess. I cannot handle it.’’ 

‘’How do you picture me, huh? Want me to smile? You want me to laugh? You want me to walk on the stage with a smile on my face. When I'm mad and put on a mask? For real though!’’ This is how both of you feel. Always wearing a mask and acting around for other people’s entertainment. It’s not worth it to put on a mask unless you have to protect yourself. Intuition says that you do, but remember to be careful. Do not do things that you cannot control, so if someone says otherwise and then threatens you because you didn’t. Then try to not allow them to step on you and subtly mention something to get their insults away from you. For example, intuition says, ‘’when you see them talking crap about you, don’t allow it. Stand up for yourself with something small. If they say how disgusting or how ugly you looked today, tell them that you disagree, and that’s it. Keep in mind that protecting yourself isn’t always causing war with one another, but saying something like this can stop a lot of issues and keep it as if you are having a normal conversation.’’ 

 ‘’I am aware it's aggressive. I am not here for acceptance.’’ Your future spouse is telling you to stop seeking acceptance from the people you help. Learn to seek acceptance from yourself. That is the person you have at the end of the day. Intuition is telling me some of you are a system (DID). So intuitively speaking, rely on your protectors. Ask them to take care of you and help guide you when people are rude to you. I know controlling and altering isn’t like control, but intuition says, ‘’ask them. Let them know how you are feeling, and ask them like a friend. It’s okay to vent to them; they want to help you after all. Those who do not accept you because of what you went through are not worth your time or the value you place on them. You are deserving of more, but you must allow it to come through.’’ 

‘’Apparently he likes to beat on her mama. I got so angry inside. I wanted to tell her to give me his number. But what you gon' do with it right? You gon' hit him up then he'll start hitting her harder.’’ This is your life. Your energy. It can be switched where your mom beats your dad, stepdad. Your grandparents, etc. Your future spouse will be protecting you from them, (and yes, they will love you despite having DID, loves. Don’t worry). Except instead of the abuser hitting your guardian more or you, they won’t allow it. I am hearing a cop signal sound, so it’s possible that they will beat your abuser endlessly and get your abuser to jail (this is for some), and on the other hand, expect someone who is going to love you dearly and protect you from the “wicked witch of the west. I’ll protect you with all of my heart, and my soul is yours as your soul is mine.’’ 

Masterlist ♡

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could you do a Sebastian Solace x Reader (gender neutral is fine) where he is led to believe the reader has permanently died? Somehow he receives this information. At this point, him and reader don't have to have an established relationship, but they definitely have a bond and affection for each other. Then, the reader comes into the vent the following day like always, and there's a happy ending? Angsty until then though please 🙏 Thank you so much

"What do you mean they aren't back yet?!"

"......."

"I lent them a token 'cause that was an unfair end to their run. They would've used it by now."

"I'll admit that the Harbinger's...unexpected arrival was most unusual. No one at Urbanshade knows where it comes from nor why it chose to show itself to the expendable."

"[Y/n]."

"Pardon?"

"It's...[y/n].." Sebastian's shoulders slumped as he looked to the enigmatic green man who decided to show up inside his shop, confused by his sudden presence. "And why are you here now? We agreed to only meet when--"

"You seem awfully attached to them, Solace. And that's not good for us." Mr. Lopee frowned slightly. "You're giving them special treatment, putting a name to their face. Don't you want to get out of here?"

"...of course I do! I'm not "attached" to anybody." The fishman muttered, although his nervous tapping against the crates betrayed his insistence. "They've just given me the most dirt on Urbanshade, and I'd hate to lose their business.."

"Well, unfortunately...they have not returned from the Banlands. I don't believe they ever will. I'd consider their soul to be lost in the ocean for eternity."

In an instant, he felt his heart sink into the pits of his stomach, trying to process the words he just heard. "What do you mean "lost"?? She can't find them?!"

"Death has grown weary of her duties." Mr. Lopee answered grimly. "That is all I know. I have no way to contact her, but this may be a sign that she's tired of resurrecting Urbanshade personnel. Those tokens have lost their meaning."

"No..no, no, no. That's stupid!" Sebastian snapped. "She can't just "decide" to stop now!! That wasn't a fair death!"

"Nothing is fair down here, my friend. You of all people should understand that. Now continue your work. Don't let yourself become distracted over one insignificant loss."

"....I won't, "boss"." The fishman sneered rudely, watching him disappear into a cloud of green and black smoke.

But the second he was gone, Sebastian dropped his snarky front, trying his best to stay calm despite the grim news he was told.

There was a way that an expendable can die...permanently?

Did the Harbinger have something to do with that? Or was the ferry lady simply uncaring and decided she was done reviving people?

He knew that she was going to be replaced within the next year or two, so maybe she thought it was all pointless now.

Either way, he'd never know.

And he'd likely never know what really happened to you. He only had to trust Mr. Lopee's words...and begrudgingly so.

""Distracted", my ass. They have to come back eventually. They...they made a promise.." His shoulders sagged as he glanced at the vent again, only for his ear fins to perk up at the sounds of thumping.

"[Y/n]? Hah. I knew he was messing with......me...."

Much to his disappointment, it was just another Wall Dweller infected with the rotten coral who decided to sneak into his shop. And with one swift motion, he dispatched it with his shotgun, watching its head explode into clay and gore as the remains flopped to the ground.

"Ugh..disgusting.." He grumbled, not happy that he had to pick apart the creature piece by piece, wishing he didn't have to touch the alien plant. But all of it was still edible, even for expendables who couldn't even touch the bloxy cola left behind after the lockdown.

You always joked about how it's the only way you could get "greens" in your diet-

'Shit..why am I thinking about them again?'

Sebastian's hands shook a little as he set the pieces on the table, wishing he could tear these stupid feelings out of his chest, wondering why he ever allowed himself to get so close to you in the first place.

He never should have opened up. Not to you. Not to anyone.

There were more important things at stake.

He shouldn't be mourning over you. What good would that do? Mr. Lopee had a point. Maybe he was getting distracted--losing sight of his goal and the burning hatred he had for Urbanshade.

He had to get out. He shouldn't care about some weak little expendable.

And yet...he couldn't stop thinking about how badly he wanted to escape with you, and maybe even..get to know you a lot better without having to pretend to be business partners. He wouldn't have to pretend to despise you and find you annoying.

Now he couldn't even find out your exact status in the Banlands. But from what Mr. Lopee implied...your soul was forever trapped at the bottom of that dark ocean, surrounded by thousands more.

By thousands of haunted faces and screams he himself once heard when the ferryman scooped him out of the water.

It drove him insane for the remainder of the day, and despite trying to fight his exhaustion by organizing his wares and assets...sleep managed to find him for once.

Yet his dreams were anything but pleasant.

He was forced to witness the horrific scenario of that fabled Harbinger descend upon you, tearing into the locker you were hiding in whilst he was unable to do anything but scream for it to stop tormenting you.

His pleas fell on deaf ears, and he watched the demonic entity paint the entire room red with your blood.

...........

"Huh..that's weird."

Arriving to the 50th room, you were surprised that the vent grate didn't pop open like normal. You knew for sure Sebastian was there, given the spotlights shining directly towards the entrance to his shop.

So you opened it as quietly as you could--just in case he was sleeping. The last thing you ever wanted to do was startle the sleep-deprived traumatized fishman because of some noise.

He'd rarely doze off, and funny enough it only happened whenever you were in the shop, too, indicating he'd grown to trust you deeply.

You've come a long way in your friendship, although judging by the numerous discounts he's given you, the lack of landmines and ADS devices scattered around, his scoldings becoming less harsh and insulting, and his increasing worry for your safety the further you got into the blacksite....you wondered if he felt something more.

Like..attachment, almost.

But of course, you didn't want to assume anything.

Surely, you're just a means to an end for him. All he cares about are the documents you bring him and nothing more. He's only slightly more concerned for you because you bring him the most valuable stuff and barter with him better than other expendables.

However, as soon as you emerged from the other side of the vent and dusted off your pants, you could see Sebastian was almost...writhing in his sleep, his claws leaving deep marks in the crates as he whimpered, his tail flicking violently.

You had to duck as it suddenly swung over your head, but when you heard him utter your name, you froze with surprise.

Was he...dreaming about you?

You would've been flattered, if not for the realization that he was probably having a nightmare instead. So you quietly went over to him, wondering how you can wake him up and explain your....absence.

You couldn't return to the living world for some time after the Harbinger killed you, and surely...he's gonna realize that and get pissed off at you "wasting" another ferry token.

You just pray he believes you.

"Seb? Wake up." Stepping onto his desk was a risk, but it was one worth taking as it allowed you to get close to him so you could shake his shoulder. It took him some time to get used to your touch, and thankfully he's more comfortable with it now.

Suddenly, he gasped as his eyes snapped open, his upper body sitting up with such a start. You damn near fell off the table, but managed to keep your balance as you stared up at him.

He saw you, and only your uniform, and got angry.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!! GET OUT-!!!"

"Sebastian it's me!! It's me!!" You shouted, your voice rising a few octaves as you held your hands up.

He huffed and puffed, beads of sweat dotting his hairline as he looked down and slowly began to recognize your face.

And then the realization hit him.

You were here. Alive. Breathing.

You were back as if nothing had happened.

"[Y/n]?" He shuddered. "Shit..sorry. H-How are you...? I'm not seeing a ghost, am I?"

"I'm not. And know you're mad, so let me explain.." You sighed, putting your hands down. "I tried coming back, but the portal was busted, so I got...stuck on the other side for a while. The ferry lady was nice enough to show me how to repair it, though she didn't say much else. She seemed to appreciate me expressing my condolences for her husband, and....."

You trailed off as Sebastian put a hand on your shoulder, and at first you were worried he was going to throttle you for making him wait this long...

Only for him to pull you into a quick embrace, lifting you off your feet. "Ah..I'm sorry, Seb." You hugged him back, feeling guilty. "I guess I've been away too long, huh?"

"..it's been an entire day."

"Really?" Your heart sunk as he let you go, setting you back on the floor. "God, I...I had no idea. You must have been freaking out."

"Only...a little bit.." He muttered, managing to calm himself down as he brushed his bangs to the side. "Someone has...led me to believe that you died permanently. But they were wrong, so it doesn't matter anymore."

You were quiet for a moment, debating on whether or not to question who told him that, but you didn't wanna stress him out over the details, considering how shaken-up he got.

"Yeah, I guess it doesn't." You shrugged, deciding to look at the wares Sebastian had available.

Unfortunately, you lost all the assets you collected this time, although there wasn't anything of utter importance that you needed right now. But after grabbing the keycard to leave....he blocked the vent with his tail. "Seb?"

"Why don't you stay here a while? Hm?" He coughed, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Why? In case the big bad Harbinger gets me?" You chuckled, only to fall silent as he didn't laugh at all. "Alright, bad joke. I'll stick around for a bit."

Judging from how his shoulders instantly relaxed the moment you said that, you realized he did care more for your safety than other expendables. He didn't want you running back out into danger so quickly, especially as he knew that if you were to revive again, the ferryman...won't really like that.

It was kinda sweet seeing him act so clingy with just you, even when he didn't wanna outright admit it.

[aventurineswife]

Clingy vidyadhara reader x sunday like that one picture of the snake wrapped around the bird that went viral a while back lol

“Let it be for now”

Summary: In a moment of quiet solace aboard the Astral Express, Sunday and you, a newly-reborn Vidyadhara, find comfort in each other's presence. Still adjusting to your second life after a harrowing transformation, you lean into Sunday, seeking warmth and connection. As you sit together in silence, Sunday reflects on the fragility of the dream he is striving to create, while you share a quiet understanding of the need for mutual support. In the intimacy of your shared space, both of you find peace, if only for a fleeting moment.

Tags: Sunday x Vidyadhara!Reader, Emotional Comfort, Fragile Relationships, Rebirth, Intimacy, Soft Moments, Vulnerability, Connection.

Warnings: Light emotional themes, Subtle tension in personal boundaries.

A/N: I don't think I've seen it... 😭

The gentle hum of the Astral Express echoed through the hallways, the rhythm of its motion almost soothing in its predictability. Yet, in the quietest corners of the train, a different kind of stillness lingered. Sunday, the ever-dignified former leader of the Oak Family, sat on a plush seat by the window, his eyes staring out into the endless expanse of stars, a far-off look on his face. His wings were tucked neatly behind him, but there was a subtle tension in their soft, silver feathers that suggested they were not at ease.

You, a newly-reborn Vidyadhara—still adjusting to your second life after a harrowing hatching—sat beside him, watching his every move with a quiet intensity. Your newly emerged form, still tender and unsure, craved the warmth of connection. The world seemed vast and overwhelming after the transformation, your past lives slipping away like fading echoes, leaving you disoriented and fragile. But Sunday’s presence, though often aloof, was a constant comfort. There was something about the way he always seemed to be there when you needed him, as if he understood the loneliness that came with being reborn.

And so, here you were, curled up beside him, your sharp, pointed ears flicking every now and then in the silence. There was no need for words; you simply leaned into his side, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence.

Sunday blinked, his gaze softening as he glanced down at you, his ethereal halo flickering slightly in the dim light. A small, imperceptible sigh escaped his lips.

"Are you... comfortable?" he asked, his voice gentle, as if not wanting to disturb the fragile peace.

You nodded, a slight smile tugging at your lips. You were small in this form, vulnerable, and in need of comfort, a stark contrast to the powerful, graceful being you once were. But in Sunday’s presence, you felt safe, as though he was a protector of sorts—a keeper of dreams, as much as you were.

You shifted closer to him, your tail curling slightly around his waist as you sought a more secure position. Sunday’s wings twitched in response, and though he rarely showed it, you could tell that he was struggling with the pull of your proximity. His natural inclination to distance himself clashed with the undeniable softness of your touch.

Without warning, you pressed your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his clothes. His breath hitched ever so slightly, but he did not pull away. Instead, his arm instinctively wrapped around you, holding you close as if the very act of doing so brought him peace.

"You know," Sunday began, his voice low and contemplative, "the dream is fragile, isn’t it? The world we hope to create… sometimes it feels like I’m holding onto something that could slip away at any moment." His fingers gently brushed through your hair, his touch careful and deliberate. "But with you here… it feels like maybe, just maybe, there's something worth fighting for."

You nuzzled closer to him, your own thoughts spiraling in a similar direction. You too struggled with the weight of your rebirth, the dissonance between your past lives and this new existence. But in his arms, those fears seemed to dissipate, leaving only the warmth of the present moment.

"I think… I think we both need this," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, the soft vibration of your words blending with the hum of the ship. "We need each other to keep the dream alive. Even if it's just for a little while."

Sunday's expression softened, and for once, the calm facade he wore seemed to break just a little. He leaned his head against yours, closing his eyes as the quiet intimacy wrapped around you both like a cocoon. His wings fluttered ever so slightly, brushing against your cheek as if to acknowledge the shared connection.

"Then let it be," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Let it be for now."

In the silence that followed, you both found comfort in each other’s presence, a fragile peace settled between your hearts. The stars outside continued to dance, and within the safe confines of the Astral Express, the two of you held onto that fleeting moment—a moment of warmth, of connection, of hope.

And perhaps, just perhaps, that was enough.

[onlydylanobrien]

New still of Dylan O'Brien as Rocky/ Roman and James Sweeney as Dennis in "Twinless". (2025)

📷©: ew.com

First look at Dylan O’Brien’s Twinless, a Sundance contender that takes inspiration from the Olsen twins

"That visceral moment of 'you look just like me' is imprinted in my formative memories," says writer-director James Sweeney.

Nineties kids are kind of obsessed with twins. And for good reason — we grew up with the Olsen twins, the remake of The Parent Trap, and Sister, Sister.

Writer-director James Sweeney takes that obsession to the next level with Twinless, his sophomore feature that will have its world premiere on Jan. 23 at the Sundance Film Festival. Entertainment Weekly has your exclusive first look at the film, in which Sweeney costars alongside Dylan O'Brien.

"I grew up in a generation that idolized twins," Sweeney tells EW. "It was very much in my zeitgeist. It was a manifestation of the perfect best friend, somebody you could share everything with. As a military brat hopping around, that was something I really craved. When I told my stepmom about what the film was, she was like, 'Oh, you used to beg me for a twin, and I had to explain to you that I can't make that happen.'"

That early fascination is evident in Twinless, which even features a scene with a character watching the Olsen twins' film It Takes Two. "That was definitely my fantasy," Sweeney says of the 1995 film. "It's like, 'Oh, one day I'll just magically run into my identical twin.' Even though they're actually not twins, they're just lookalikes. But that visceral moment of 'You look just like me' is imprinted in my formative memories."

As for Twinless, the film tells the story of a twin, Roman (O'Brien), who loses his brother, Rocky (also O'Brien), and feels like he's lost half of himself. After Rocky dies, Roman decides to stay in Rocky's Portland, OR apartment as he navigates his grief. While attending a support group for twin loss, he befriends Dennis (Sweeney), a fellow lost soul — and the two find solace in each other, forming an unlikely bromance.

"Roman and Dennis get along so well because they're both bringing their respective baggage and grief and traumas to the table," Sweeney says. "They bond and complement each other."

Sweeney is not a twin, but he did base his script on the existence of twin bereavement support groups. Though, out of respect for all involved, he didn't attend one of their meetings. "I thought it would be too much to attend," he explains. "I did order a book from their website, because I did research and read some books written by twin psychologists. One was called Alone in the Mirror, which touches on twin loss. It was written by the co-founder of the support group, and I paid $25 and they never sent me a book."

Even without that book (he tried!), Sweeney was fascinated by the psychology of twins and how that unique bond differs from those of siblings who are not twins. "I would say being a twin isn't a monolithic experience, so there's so many variations," Sweeney notes. "It also has a lot to do with how the parents reared their children and whether or not they encouraged or discouraged individuality between the twins. But there's a lot of studies done on twins because they see them as the perfect specimen."

Explorating what it means to be (and lose) a twin first attracted O'Brien to the project. Sweeney wrote the first draft in 2015, and O'Brien has been attached since 2020. But the script grabbed the actor from the moment it popped up in his inbox alongside several others his manager sent his way.

"I'm fascinated by it in terms of it being something so unique on this earth," O'Brien says of the twin dynamic. "That is one of those things that really, unless you experience it, you can't understand. Twinless support groups exist because it is a very specific loss and trauma that you need support with — losing a connectivity that us normies can't ever quite understand. That deeply resonated with me, even though I don't have a twin. I found it to be a really compelling and heart-wrenching center to this story. This tragically poignant tale of this kid losing his other half."

That, along with his love for his character, propelled O'Brien to stick with the project these last five years while the film searched for funding and postponed production in the wake of the 2023 Hollywood strikes. "It was a gut thing for me," O'Brien reflects. "I remember falling in love with Roman immediately. I read a character, and either I have that soul in me or not. Roman's somebody I know really deep down."

Sweeney was incredibly moved by O'Brien's dedication and enthusiasm for the project, a quality that was evident from their first meeting. "When I first met Dylan over Zoom, he really took ownership over the role in a way that I had never experienced with an actor," Sweeney says. "He basically said, 'I see you. I see your voice. I understand this character and his every emotion.' That gave me a lot of confidence."

For both O'Brien and Sweeney, getting to make this movie entirely on their terms was a creative reward unto itself. "The script was so fantastic and dialed in from the time I first read it," O'Brien notes. "I authentically connected to it all. It was one of those wonderful creative experiences."

But now they get to share it with the world, beginning in the U.S. Dramatic Competition at the Sundance Film Festival. Still, Sweeney says anything from here on is a cherry on top of his twin sundae.

"This was an instance where I had optimal creative control and a wonderful team championing me to do exactly the movie I wanted to make," he concludes. "I know that's a rare gift. I'm super excited for people to see the film and to find its audience. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm already content."

[miraamio]

jjk 271 has convinced me that no famous piece of media can ever have a tolerable fanbase.

To start off, Gojo’s death was actually very beautifully done and not once have i believed that he should’ve come back. One thing that Gojo strived for after Geto’s defection was to create a Jujutsu society that wouldn’t corner their sorcerers as mere weapons and take away their youth. He was a firm believer of the fact that honing strong students would reshape and shake the very foundation of jujutsu society.

We know of Gojo’s inherent weaponisation. But it is not only Gojo who undergoes this objectification and weaponisation, it is actually every sorcerer in the jujutsu society. We don’t see Nanami, Yuki, Gojo or even Yaga get a funeral. It is because of two prominent reasons. One being the fact that the jujutsu society was built upon such shallow beliefs that the death of these sorcerers was simply brushed aside as a common occurrence. They are not offered a “funeral” or a memorial simply because these sorcerers are mere weapons to the jujutsu society and the death of a weapon simply concludes its existence and its period of serving. It is to be discarded, not mourned over, for it is simply a weapon. But another, surprisingly kinder reason, is offered to us by the narrative. As Todo Aoi says, “Grieving over the departed can tarnish their memories. Instead we must carry their will forward.” Through this we are allowed to finally understand the reason for the innumerable Gojo flashbacks during these last few chapters.

Gojo is a character who suffered from loneliness and isolation in his own unique way. It was never something that held him back yet he expresses his want to not be forgotten in the last conversation he had with Yuji. He also expresses his firm belief in his students rather than himself because he is aware that even if HE loses his students won’t. This completely changes the meaning of the infamous “Nah I’d win” panel because he wasn’t talking about his solo victory, but rather his victory as a teacher who raised sorcerers to be stronger than him and of the victory his students would achieve for him.

For a character like Gojo who wants not to be forgotten, Sukuna offers him the much needed solace of remembrance. “I’ll never forget you.” Sukuna ensures that Satoru and the very narrative make note of his choice to remember the sorcerer for the rest of his life. The two strongest sorcerers who exist as complete anti parallels to each other in both ideals and beliefs find a common ground in their shared loneliness that comes with being the strongest.

Satoru’s death was a very deserving and beautiful end for his character. He died while being acknowledged and remembered. He passed on to go south, back to his old self where his happiest memories lay, no other ending would be greater for Satoru Gojo than this.

Secondly, the interpretation of Sukuna and Uraume’s relationship. There was no context given as to who they used to be or where their uncanny companionship stemmed from, throughout the story we only see them as entities of the present, not getting a look into their dynamic during the heian era. The only few panels we get during Yorozu’s part just reestablish Uraume as a dutiful and faithful servant to their lord. So to see Sukuna display such tenderness towards them in the last chapter kind of dismantles our idea of their relationship. Mahito says Sukuna sought revenge for the execution of “that wench.” Then further, Sukuna explains how he had two paths, one with a black haired woman and one with Uraume, he chooses the one with Uraume to begin their lives anew.

In the conclusion of their story, Gege’s choice to keep Sukuna and Uraume’s joint past unexplained was a clever choice to not tarnish the sanctity of their relationship. It allows the reader to interpret their dynamics in whatever way they wish to. Because what is more important than the nature of their relationship, is Sukuna’s openness to understanding and partaking in the act of “love.” You may see it as parental, familial or romantic, it is not the nature that holds significance, it is the act itself.

Personally I like to picture Sukuna as a guardian or authoritative figure who took in Uraume with a guardian like intent to raise them and in this new life, will be able to nurture them with love. But again, the ending is quiet open for everyone’s own interpretation. Its just that i feel for Sukuna, a character who refused to believe in the very concept of love, a guardian-like role would be truly grounding as it wouldn’t impose conditionality on them, like a romantic relationship does. However, as i said, the nature matters less than the act itself.

To argue over the nature of their relationship is simply stupid. People are allowed to have their own interpretations of unspecified relationships, and creating unnecessary arguments over the validity of your own interpretation of their relationship takes away from the very essence of Sukuna and Uraume’s ending.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

aggressive coping

I know I don’t mention this much but I feel the need to bring it up now (since the last book 7 update was the Octavinelle one) 😂

Is anyone else like… disappointed by how much Jade’s UM got seriously nerfed??? Shock the Heart has so many limitations. Firstly, it requires eye contact. Plus, it can only use it ONCE per person. Even then, it is not guaranteed to work since it fails on people who are on high alert and those under his UM's influence can still refuse to answer questions demanded of them. How am I supposed to believe Jade somehow has enough magical capacity to attend a prestigious school like NRC?????? (Especially when you consider that it may entirely be possible to substitute his UM for just slipping someone a truth serum or something.)

Some low magic mages like Fellow can use his UM multiple times, even letting his UM seemingly "stack" (and thus enhance its effect). And this is FELLOW, a character whose backstory involves him being rejected from magic schools, who scoffed at his low level of magic. So... Jade, who has enough magic capacity to attend NRC, one of the most prestigious arcane academies, has a weak as heck UM while Fellow, who has so little magic he doesn't qualify for much less prestigious arcane academies, has a UM that has multiple uses that enhances its power with each cast?????????? OKAY????????? And not only that, but many of Jade's classmates have much more advanced and complicated UMs too (look at Jamil with his MIND CONTROL 🤡 which hurts the victim the more they resist) or can essentially spam their UM (stares at Silver). So how come Jade is like the ONLY person who only has a one-time use UM????? Of all UMs, is this really the only one the devs thought would be overpowered???? I understand that there will naturally be variance in the power and abilities of each mage, but it still feels like he really got the short end of the stick...

I... guess the nature of the UM makes sense with Jade's crafty nature??? Because the limited usage for it reinforces and informs Jade's caution and strategizing for the instances in which he actually breaks out his UM. BUT THE ISSUE IS THAT THE VERY SAME COULD BE ACHIEVED IF HE HAD AN UNLIMITED NUMBER OF USES. Jade could still be wary about using Shock the Heart frequently because it could allow others to catch on to what his UM does... and if they're alert around him or avoid looking him in the eyes, it makes his UM fail anyway. I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY THE DEVS WOULD DO HIM SO DIRTY LIKE THIS OTL J word doesn’t deserve this injustice, LET HIM BE A MENACE

The only bit of solace I have and cling onto is that maybe MAYBE Jade was lying to us all along about how limited his UM is (I have no reason to believe this is canon since, even as late as the dire circumstances of book 7, Jade keeps describing his UM as single use only and can’t seem to exceed the single use rule even in a dream)💀 He can use it as many times as he likes, he’s just deceiving us about the one time use to lure the few people who do ultimately find out about his UM into a false sense of security… or maybe his UM is still developing and could become stronger over time??? Cuz like. Why chide Floyd for casually telling others about his UM but then Jade ALSO just casually tells us about his UM... That’s my (delusional) non-canon compliant headcanon 😤

[r0ugesun]

Hoax

Continuation of this

Taglist: @jhroseok @nicejulie94 @bibiscarn @xcinnamonmalfoyx @sapphiresandferrari @shamidreamer @sapphirelegacy @minaxcarter @fandomsinthegalaxies @g-cf2020

Special thanks to my wife @moonstruksandco and thank you to everyone who requested pt 2 I hope you enjoy ✨

The first time I uploaded this it got flagged so let’s try it again -_-

Warnings: hurt/comfort unprotected p in v sex slight breeding kink soft! Aemond

Weeks passed without a word from Aemond. The House of Kisses continued its usual hum of activity, but you couldn't shake the emptiness that had settled in your heart.

Each day blended into the next, the routine of the brothel offering little distraction from the ache of his absence.

You missed his sharp wit, his icy demeanor that softened only for you, and the way his touch had made you feel alive. Every night, as you lay in bed with another, you found yourself picturing Aemond, your last moments together, the memory of his kiss, his touch, the way he had looked at you.

The other girls noticed your change in demeanor. They whispered among themselves, casting sympathetic glances your way. Even the madam, usually so stern, seemed to tread more carefully around you, offering a comforting pat on the shoulder or a few kind words when she could.

One particularly lonely evening, as the wind howled outside and rain lashed against the windows, you found yourself in the common room, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace. The warmth did little to chase away the chill that had settled in your bones.

You hugged your knees to your chest, lost in thought, when the door creaked open. Sylvie entered, her expression one of concern.

"You've been like this for weeks," she said, taking a seat beside you. "You barely smile anymore."

You sighed and turned to face her. "I actually let myself believe he was different. A common whore and a prince... I've been the biggest fool."

She gave you a sympathetic smile, reaching out to take your hand.

"I understand truly. But you can't let this consume you. The House of Kisses needs you, and so do I."

You squeezed her hand in return, appreciating her support. "I know. It's just... I've been alone my whole life, and I don't know any other way to live. I thought that by doing this work, I might find solace in the intimacy, but it only made me feel more alone then I ever have. But when he came along, when he smiled only at me, laughed only with me, and shared his pain openly, it made me feel lighter. It made the trail of suffering l've walked seem worth it, if it meant the journey led to him."

Sylvie nodded, her eyes thoughtful. "Men like Aemond Targaryen are complicated. They're used to getting what they want, and when things get difficult, they often run. However, you must not place your life on hold. You must remain strong, both for yourself and for those who care for you."

You nodded, absorbing her words. "You are right. It is simply difficult to let go."

Sylvie gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Take it one day at a time. And remember, you are not alone."

You managed a small smile. "Thank you, Sylvie. For everything."

The next morning, the serenity of the House of Kisses was disrupted by an unexpected visitor. The heavy oak door swung open, and the room fell silent as Aemond strode in, his presence commanding immediate attention. His silver hair was slightly disheveled from the rain, and his usual composed demeanor seemed frayed at the edges. He looked around the room, his single eye scanning the faces until it landed on you.

You stood rooted to the spot, your heart pounding in your chest. His gaze softened, a flicker of something you couldn't quite place crossing his features.

"Aemond," you whispered, barely audible over the crackling fire.

He crossed the room in long strides, stopping just inches from you. "I need to speak with you," he said, his voice low and urgent. "In private."

Sylvie gave you a reassuring nod before slipping away, leaving the two of you alone.

You felt the tension in the air as he searched your eyes, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you both. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice tinged with a mix of anger and hurt.

"What do you want, Aemond?"

He took a deep breath, his expression shifting to one of pleading. "Y/n." he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I have wronged you, but I cannot bear being away from you any longer"

Your heart ached at his words, but you held your ground, refusing to let your emotions show. "It's not that simple," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. "You cannot just stroll in here and expect everything to be forgiven."

"I know," he said, his voice breaking. "But please, y/n, give me a chance to make things right."

His vulnerability took you by surprise, and for a moment, you saw the boy beneath the armor, the one who longed for redemption. But your anger still burned, a barrier between you and the possibility of reconciliation.

"Why should I believe you?" you asked, your eyes searching his face for any sign of deceit.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "Because I love you"

His words hung in the air, and you felt your resolve waver. You searched his face, looking for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was raw emotion, a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"Aemond," you began, your voice softer now, "You abandoned me as if I didn't mean anything, and I was left to pick up the pieces."

He dropped his hand, a pained expression crossing his features. "I know l've hurt you, and I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I am willing to do whatever it takes to prove my love for you.... It was cowardly of me to leave... I thought distancing myself would protect you, protect me. But I was wrong."

You looked away, the flickering flames of the fireplace reflecting in your eyes. "I don't know if I can go through that pain again, Aemond. Loving you was like dancing on a knife's edge."

Aemond took a step closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I can't promise that it will be easy, but I can promise that I will never leave you again."

The sincerity in his eyes, the rawness of his plea, chipped away at the walls you had built around your heart. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, before finally meeting his gaze "I don't know if I can trust you again Aemond..... but I want to. I want you."

A flicker of hope crossed his face, and he gently placed his hands on your shoulders. "That's all I ask," he murmured, leaning in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.

But you didn't. Instead, you closed the remaining distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, filled with all the emotions you had kept bottled up for weeks. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, a silent promise of his devotion.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

There was only the two of you, tangled in a web of passion and pain, hope and forgiveness.

Aemond's grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as if he was afraid you might vanish.

You could feel the intensity of his need, the desperation in his touch, and it mirrored your own longing. The kiss grew more fervent, more demanding, as if trying to make up for all the lost time and words unspoken.

Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the silken strands, pulling him closer still. He groaned into your mouth, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, a heady mix of desire and yearning that threatened to consume you both.

Aemond broke the kiss just long enough to trail his lips down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. "I thought I had lost you," he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with emotion. "Every moment away from you was torture."

You tilted your head back, giving him better access as his lips moved to your neck, planting heated kisses along your pulse. "You hurt me. Aemond." You you breathed, even as your body betrayed you, arching into his touch.

"I know," he replied, his voice a raw whisper. "And I will make it up to you, by proving my love. Just... let me show you."

His words, combined with the feel of his lips and the intensity of his touch, broke down the last of your defenses. You pulled him back up to capture his lips once more, pouring all your conflicting emotions into the kiss. It was a dance of need and forgiveness, a tentative step towards healing.

Aemond responded with equal fervor, his hands roaming over your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you. You could feel the raw power of his emotions, the depth of his regret and the strength of his love. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment, in him.

The kiss seemed to last forever, yet not long enough. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together, sharing the same ragged breaths. "I missed you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

"And I you," Aemond replied, his eye filled with a mixture of relief and determination. "I will never let you go again, y/n. This, I swear."

Aemond's grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as if he was afraid you might vanish. You could feel the intensity of his need, the desperation in his touch, and it mirrored your own longing.

The kiss grew more fervent, more demanding, as if trying to make up for all the lost time and words unspoken.

Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the silken strands, pulling him closer still. He groaned into your mouth, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, a heady mix of desire and yearning that threatened to consume you both.

Aemond's hands began to wander, sliding down your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the heat of his body, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest.

His kiss grew more insistent, more urgent, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn't say in words.

Your own hands roamed over his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath your fingertips. You could sense the restraint in his touch, the way he held himself back, but you didn't want restraint. You wanted him, all of him.

"Aemond," you murmured against his lips, your voice a plea.

He responded with a growl, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you even closer.

His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. "I need you," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "I need you, all of you y/n."

You shivered at his words, your body responding to the raw need in his voice.

"Then take me," you whispered back, your own voice trembling with desire.

"Show me how much you need me."

Aemond's control snapped. He lifted you off the ground, his strength evident as he carried you across the room.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, never breaking the kiss. He laid you down on a nearby settee, his body covering yours, his kisses growing more desperate, more demanding.

You matched his intensity, your hands tugging at his clothes, wanting to feel his skin against yours. He followed suit, his fingers deftly undoing the fastenings of your dress, baring your skin to his touch.

The air around you seemed to crackle with electricity, The air around you seemed to crackle with electricity, the tension between you palpable.

When you were both finally free of your clothes, he paused, his eye drinking in the sight of your naked form. "You're beautiful," he said barely above a whisper, his voice filled with awe. "So beautiful."

You blushed under his intense gaze, but you didn't look away.

"And you," you whispered back, reaching up to touch his face. "You are mine."

His lips crashed back onto yours, he pressed his cock into your entrance and slammed his hips into you, pressing you into the cushions. The heat of his skin against yours, the weight of him, the way he moved everything about him was intoxicating.

You lost yourself in the sensation, in the way he made you feel Every touch, every kiss, every breath was a declaration of his love, his need, his desperation to make things right.

"Ah-ah Aemond!" You moaned desperately.

Aemond's body pressed firmly against yours, his movements deliberate yet fierce, creating a rhythm that matched the desperate beat of your hearts.

He groaned at the sound of you moaning his name in his ear "F-fuck I missed you"

Each thrust was a blend of passion and longing, as if he was trying to erase every second he spent apart trom you.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring and claiming every inch of you with a fervor that left you breathless and wanting more.

His lips left yours to trail hot kisses down your neck, each touch igniting a trail of fire across your skin. You arched into him, craving every bit of his attention, every whisper of his touch.

"Aemond" you breathed, your voice a mixture of pleasure and need, "please don't stop."

He growled softly in response, his eyes dark with desire. "I won't" he promised, his voice husky and raw.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding you to meet his thrusts, making the connection between you both even more intimate.

"Gods..." the feel of your wet cunt squeezing him was almost enough to break him, he spread your thighs even further and rubbed harsh circles on your clit.

you could feel every nerve in your body tingling, every sensation heightened by his touch. The world outside ceased to exist as you became lost in the pleasure of the moment.

"Yes yes just like that" you mewled.

The way your breasts bounced up and down as he fucked into you greedily made his head spin, each sound, each touch, a reminder of the depth of your connection.

Aemond's hands on your hips were a masterful blend of authority and reverence as he thrust into you with an insatiable intensity.

Each deliberate motion drove you further into the luxurious cushions, the heat of his body slick and urgent against yours. His hands explored every inch of your skin with a possessive, almost worshipful touch.

One hand slid down to grip your thigh firmly, spreading your folds apart with a tender, commanding pressure.

"Speak to me, my love," he demanded, his voice a deep, velvety rumble that sent shivers cascading through your entire being.

"What is it that you need from me?"

You arched into him, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

"I need you, Aemond. Every part of you. I need you to make me yours, completely."

A growl of approval rumbled from his chest as he shifted his focus. feeling the rhythmic pulse of your arousal with a fervent need. His thumb brushed over your clit with a slow, teasing pressure, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you.

"You are exquisite," he murmured, his breath hot and tantalizing against your ear. "I am utterly captivated by you."

With a desperate, almost frantic need, his other hand descended, wrapping around his balls with a firm, practiced grip. His fingers stroked and fondled with an urgent, intensity, each movement a testament to his own escalating desire.

"I must feel you cum" he panted, his voice strained and raw with emotion. "I need to experience your surrender."

The sensation of his touch, both on your body and his own, was electric, igniting every nerve with heightened pleasure. His thrusts grew more fervent, his movements a relentless dance of passion that drove you both to the precipice of ecstasy.

Your moans were a desperate plea, your voice trembling with the depth of your longing.

"Please, Aemond. need you. I need you to spill inside me. Don't stop."

"Gods..." the feel of your wet cunt squeezing him was almost enough to break him, he spread your thighs even further and rubbed harsh circles on your clit.

His ministrations on your clit grew more insistent, his thumb pressing and rubbing with a rhythm that matched his powerful thrusts. The build-up of pleasure as a formidable wave, crashing over you both with breathtaking force.

As you reached the peak, your cries of his name were filled with raw, unfiltered need, your body shivering uncontrollably with the intensity of the release.

Aemond's grip on his cock tightened, his movements becoming almost frantic as he sought his own release.

With a final, powerful thrust, he came inside you, his cock throbbing as he deposited his dragon seed deep within.

His breath came in desperate gasps as he held his cock in place, his fingers pressing firmly against your clit to ensure that his seed might take hold.

He collapsed beside you, his chest heaving with deep, uneven breaths. He pulled you into his embrace, encircling you with a protective, tender warmth.

His fingers traced soothing patterns over your damp skin, his touch a gentle contrast to the urgency of moments before. His voice, husky and laden with emotion, was a tender whisper against your ear.

"Look at me" he murmured, his gaze intense and filled with unspoken promises. "I love you with every fiber of my being. I need you beside me always, now and forever."

You gazed up at him, your eyes reflecting the profound depth of affection and yearning "I love you too, Aemond. Forever. I need you just as much."

You were bound together now nothing else in the world mattered but this.

Cradled in his arms, you savored the warmth and intimate connection of your shared moment, both lost yourselves in the profound, unspoken love that enveloped you.

his breathing heavy and ragged, yet his touch was tender as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

As you lay together, the remnants of passion still tingling between you, you felt a renewed sense of hope. The road to healing would be long and fraught with challenges, but in that moment, with Aemond by your side, you felt ready to face it all, together.

[starlitsequins]

ship discourse is unserious but the "who would treat fiddleford better" arguments on tumblr are crazy to me because have we all forgotten nuance? anyways here's a relationship analysis:

fiddauthor has its own unhealthy aspects because ford not only tunnel-visioned on his research to the point of dismissing fiddleford, he was also being actively isolated by his abuser (bill), who was turning the two against each other. and, at the same time, fiddleford was actively lying to ford about the memory gun, then used it on ford, a complete violation of trust. in alex hirsch's own words, fiddleford was like a yes-man to ford (until he wasnt), to the detriment of both of them.

but also they found solace in each other, as two outcasts with similar interests. even if ford could be dismissive at times with his gifts, its so clear that he valued fiddleford as his one friend, that they found so much enjoyment in each other's company in both college and in gravity falls. and ignoring that is doing them both a disservice! none of the hurt they inflicted on each other was done out of malice; they were being slowly broken down by the environment around them.

fiddlestan is more difficult to dissect for obvious reasons but comparing stan's past failed relationships to a hypothetical one with fiddleford is a moot point. we're working with a vastly different scenario here. stan would need fiddleford to stay in his desperation to save ford, and fiddleford could be easily guilt-tripped despite his trauma. would stan be an asshole to fiddleford? yeah, he would probably grow impatient with fiddleford's anxiety, and they would have very clashing personalities and interests, along with bad trust issues. fiddleford would be very reliant on the memory gun at this point, and they both would be at their mental lowest: it would not be an easy or healthy relationship.

but at the same time, it's not difficult to see how two very broken people could find solace in each other, especially due to a shared grief. its a unique situation that only they could understand, so of course it would make sense that fiddleford's desire to fix vs stan's abandonment issues would lead to something, for better or for worse. at the end of the day, they both understand the broken bonds of family and they both want to feel needed. it's not farfetched to speculate that they'd find comfort in each other.

anyways. i love these three very flawed, very hurt, and very human individuals. i think they're capable of causing each other a lot of pain. they do cause each other a lot of pain. but also they grow and they heal, and it pains me to see people reduce them to their singular actions. (but also the jokes are funny so yknow...i get it carry on)