#listen I don't understand how the fandom couldn't settle on

[starcurtain]

Outing myself as the dead-opposite of a Genshin rarepair lover to say that my favorite brand of Zhongli/Childe is definitely:

Grandpa's Mid-Life Crisis Retirement Checklist:

✅️ Flawless human disguise (no one suspects a n y t h i n g)

✅️ Part-time side hustle

✅️ Self-planned funeral (the flowers were fire 👌)

✅️ Friends know I'm not actually dead

✅️ Liyue flourishing

✅️✅️✅️ Russian mail order husband

[wisecura]

'Hate' Is A Strong Word

Izuku Midoriya x f!reader 5k

summary: for some reason, you've never liked Izuku Midoriya. call it bad vibes, a deep seated irritation, or just plain off-putting, you two just never connected. and even now as pro heroes you haven't uttered a single word to each other since high school. yet, you find yourself badly injured at his doorstep.

warnings: might be repetitive, gaslighting, manipulation, non-canon, dark fic, some blood, belittling, confinement, please don't read if you are sensitive to bad things happening to reader,

an: I haven't kept up with this fandom much but I still enjoy it. i've been busy with work and school. sadly, not fully proofread, but thank you for reading

You never quite took to Izuku Midoriya, even from the start. 

There was something about him. A nagging feeling that buzzed in the back of your mind whenever he was near.

He was the kind of guy everyone liked—or at least, no one dared to openly dislike. Shy, awkward, but undeniably kind, Izuku was the sort who'd go out of his way to help a stranger. Always pushing for justice, always the hero in waiting, the kind of well-rounded individual you'd expect to be universally admired. 

And yet, something about him set off alarms in your gut from the very first day you met. It was your first year in high school, you'd arrived at UA high, thrilled to be accepted into the hero course.

This is when you saw him.

He'd been introducing himself to other classmates, nothing different from the norm. Maybe it was the look in his eyes when they caught yours. The way he shyly moved over to greet you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to interrogate question you on your quirk, and from your understanding he kept tabs on everyone. It could've been the way his eyes seemed to trail you when you evaded his conversation, feeling odd at the line of questioning. You had no idea why every instinct tell you to keep your distance.

You did attempt friendship in those early years, especially when you noticed how easily he drew people in. Once all was settled in, he seemed to be a magnet, attracting the class in with his friendliness. Maybe that initial encounter had been a fluke? You thought that just maybe you were being overly dramatic—after all, Izuku was the epitome of harmlessness, always eager to lend a hand. No one else seemed to have an issue with him, even with his more...odd habits.

But despite your efforts, you just couldn't shake it off. Those creepy vibes you got. So you chalked it up to not meshing well. But you always watched from a distance, and continued your years making friends and overall enjoying the coursework.

Years passed, and both of you rose through the ranks to become pro heroes. 

Izuku, now known universally as Deku, consistently ranked in the top five—a celebrity in the world of pro heroes. Meanwhile, you held a respectable nineteenth place, not one for popularity races, and never quite as concerned with fame as you were with making tangible changes in the world. Not that he wasn't doing his part-

Deku was a household name, his exploits and acts of heroism the stuff of daily newsfeeds. The latest articles highlighted not just his achievements but his physical transformation too—he was now a striking 6’1", his features having matured into what many would consider handsome, listing out other measurements you hadn’t bothered to read about.

Yet, reading about him, seeing his photos splashed across the media, always stirred an inexplicable twist in your stomach. You had no logical reason to feel this way, yet the discomfort was undeniable. You still didn't like the dude.

Your interactions had been minimal since high school, limited to brief exchanges during professional gatherings. You weren’t friends, not really. But he was always friends of a friend with you. It was always weird to hear about him, and you tried to never ask-to never listen in when your friends talked about him.

And, now, as you scrolled through your phone, one hand pressed against your bleeding side, the irony of the situation didn't escape you.

This part of town was supposed to be safe, but here you were. Far from home and in trouble, late at night.

You needed to find somewhere to go—someone to plug this shit up. Your manager had recently updated your contacts with a list of “reliable partners” for emergencies—pretty handy timing, considering the mess you were in now. All listed with safe houses should you need it—your managers words echoing in the back of your mind: 'you'd better not be seen by anyone from the public'.

You had been on a secret mission, something big, something not everyone could handle. But your quirk was a perfect fit—or so you thought until things went south.

The leader of the crime ring turned out to be a lot tougher than the brief said, and instead of nabbing him quietly, you got roughed up pretty bad.

Glancing at your phone, the recommended safe locations popped up. And just your luck—it had to be him.

You frowned at the screen—thumb brushing down the refresh button desperately, but no other options seemed to be loading. There had to be someone else, but why wasn’t the stupid app showing anything?

Of course. Of-fucking-course. Whatever, beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Better not to bleed out on the pavement. You were sure your manager would kill you if this wound up in the newspapers.

Gritting your teeth, you pushed through the pain, straightening up as best you could. You tried to walk confidently into the lobby of a ridiculously upscale apartment building. It was way fancier than necessary, making you feel all the more out of place.

You barely reached the counter when the man behind it did a double-take. “Miss—““—I’m here to see Izuku Midoriya, please,” you cut him off before he could delve into questions you had no energy to answer.

He looked surprised for a moment, then turned his back to you to make the call. You could hear his hushed tones, and an even softer voice through the other end of the intercom. You couldn't make out what they were saying—maybe it was the blood loss affecting your concentration.

“Top floor, Miss—““—Thanks.” You turn away quickly, unable to keep a slight wobble from your steps. You hadn’t meant to be rude. You just really needed to sit down. 

You were a vision of resilience and grace as you press the elevator button, smearing the elevator door button in your own blood. The ride up feels like a century, each ding reminding you of the ticking clock against your injuries. You had time to turn back. To not face whatever was beyond the elevator doors. Did he open his home as a safe location often? What were you thinking—this was Deku—of course he did—

As the doors finally open, you're met with the minimalist, yet luxurious hallway leading to the penthouse suite—his suite.

It's been years since you've last even spoke to Izuku Midoriya, and now, under these circumstances, you're about to see him again.

Funny how fate plays its cruel games, huh?

Stepping out, you hesitate for just a moment before your survival instincts push you forward. Your fist meets the door, the knock more feeble than you intended. It's only a matter of seconds before the door swings open, revealing Izuku Midoriya in person.

He's taller, broader, and his eyes—those damn eyes—haven't changed a bit. He's definitely lost that baby face, his features much more defined, almost handsome. The sight of him makes your heart race for reasons you can't even begin to pin down before that deep voice reaches your ears.

"Shit, you look like hell," wide eyed, he blurts out. "What happened?"

You try to muster a smile, but all you manage is a grimace. "Got into a bit of trouble. Mind if I come in? Kinda bleeding out here," you quip, half-joking, but entirely serious.

He doesn't hesitate, grabbing your arm, gently but firmly, as he helps you inside. "Of course, come in. What are friends for?" he says, though you both know the term 'friends' might be a stretch, you sure as hell weren't gonna comment on it now.

Oddly enough, he doesn't press you for more details, instead guiding you to the sofa. "Let me look at that wound," he says, already moving to fetch a first aid kit and a towel. You feel somewhat guilty at your thoughts as you watch him, his movements efficient and practiced. What if you bled out onto his couch? And now that'll be the first thing on his mind when he sees it? what're you even thinking?

How often has he done this? You mind briefly flashes back to a news report you'd seen recently, of him saving a group of people from a hostage situation turned deadly. And despite your reservations about him, you can't help but feel a reluctant admiration stirring within you. That and this. He really wasn't a bad dude. Maybe a bit awkward, but who wasn't?

You raise your shirt slightly, exposing the expanse of your stomach, an audible sigh from him before his hands find their way to clean the area, surprisingly gentle.

It's a strange intimacy, one you make damn sure to ignore. In other situations you may have blushed, leading with a 'buy me drinks first' joke but you really didn't want to add to the moment.

"Do I want to ask how the other guy looks?" Izuku teases lightly, a break from his jaw tensing, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite yourself, a laugh escapes—bitter but genuine.

"Yeah, I may have gotten the short end here," you reply, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there that wasn’t present in your school days, a maturity that seems to fit him well. It annoys you, seeing how much he's grown into himself, into the hero everyone expected him to be. Was it jealousy? No, that couldn’t be it.

Sitting there, letting Izuku tend to your wounds, you can’t help but feel a twist in your stomach that’s not from the injury. It’s from the sheer absurdity of the situation—seeking help from someone you’ve always distrusted, yet here he is, proving to be the hero he always aimed to be. Not asking for anything in return, always helpful, always willing.

And, yes, that bugged the shit out of you. You were wrong.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" His eyes flick back over to you, stilling your breath. He lets out another sigh, unwrapping the bandage from his kit.

"The Gokudo Group, right?" You look away, refusing to meet his heavy gaze. He didn't seem entirely happy with the direction of the conversation—

"How do you know about that?" The question sounded silly the second it left your mouth. A top pro hero knowing about a mission so close to his residence? It'd be stranger if he hadn't heard about it. He lets out another soft chuckle, and you feel yourself blush at the way it seemed to lick up your spine.

"Let's call it a guess." As he finishes bandaging your wound, his touch lingers a moment on your side, reminding you of his closeness.

"You should rest," he suggests, his voice soft, almost nonchalant. He seems to see no issue with the idea. A man. A woman. Alone in a pent house sweet. "Stay here tonight. It's late, and you're not in any condition to go anywhere."

You want to protest, to assert your independence, but the room tilts slightly as you try to sit up straighter, his grip tightening on your waist as you let out a small painful whimper. He doesn’t seem too put off by the idea of you staying, and realistically, blood loss was indeed a bitch.

"I guess...I don't have much choice," the words tasting sour on your tongue. For a fleeting moment, Izuku's seems like he wants to say something, fighting with his inner voice, before settling on something else.

"...Of course, you're always welcome here," he assures you, his tone dripping with a sincerity that feels too thick, too heavy. He stands, pressing a button on the wall to adjust the blinds, casting the room into a dim glow. He stands illuminated in a warm glow by the lamp in the corner. Your heart continues its gymnastics, flipping in ways you can't fucking believe.

"Let me get you some water, maybe something for the pain." As he disappears into the kitchen, you try to relax against the plush cushions of his sofa, feeling much more guilty at the thoughts you'd had not even thirty minute prior. This wasn't how you imagined your evening would end, and his kindness seemed to eat away at you by the second.

Your gaze drifts around the neatly kept space, landing on small, personal touches that seem innocuously domestic. Photographs of smiling faces, trophies from his hero work, books on strategy and quirk development. It's all so…Midoriya.

When he returns, he hands you a glass of water and a pill, his smile reassuring. "This will help with the pain," he says, and you take the small tablet from him, your fingers brushing against his, the contact somewhat nerve-wracking.

"Thanks," you whisper, downing the medicine without a second thought. He watched you closely for a second, another thought on the tip of his tongue before he decides to just sit down next to you. Not close enough to warrant a side glance, but close enough that you can smell his smooth cologne, a soothing fragrance that lingers in the back of your throat. A smell that was distinct, unforgettable.

"You know," hesitating, "...I always...hoped we'd get a chance to catch up," his voice a soft murmur blending into the backdrop of the city's faint sounds filtering through the window. You would've sworn he hadn't said anything if it wasn't for your good hearing. "...I've followed your career, you know. You're doing amazing things."

His words sound like a compliment, but you can't help but think: just how closely has he been watching me? The tension in the room was so fucking awkward....

And the comment was innocent enough, so you push the feeling aside, chalking it up to paranoia. He's being nice. He's being nice.

You literally have no reason to doubt him.

Whatever. You can't shake that nag, you're fighting with yourself just to lean into the small comfort he provided, but that itch keeps coming back the more he talks. Just keep your distance, like always, and make your exit in the morning before he wakes up. Maybe send a fruit basket when you get back home as a parting 'thank you' gift.

"Yeah, well, we've both been busy, I guess," He watches you a moment, his expression unreadable before offering a gentle smile. You let out a small yawn, scooting further into the couch. Further away from his spreading legs, hoping to convey your sleepiness.

"Very busy," he agrees, as he stands to grab a blanket from a nearby closet. Thankful for the space, you breath a sigh of relief. You jump when he comes back, yet his voice is gentle, and his movements are tender, almost loving, as he drapes the blanket over you.

You notice his hands tremble slightly—a nervous energy you remember all too well from your high school days. He's nervous. And it sets you on edge even more, despite the fact that he couldn't be more welcoming to you in this moment—a pillar of comfort and support. The blanket he brought was so fuzzy and warm. Your favorite color too.

"Looks like we finally get that catch-up session, huh?" he chuckles easily. You half-expected him to retreat to his room once you were settled, but here he was, still the same Midoriya, despite looking so incredibly different. Never fully catching that hint. You manage a weary smile, feeling the weight of your eyelids, barely still able to converse.

"Yeah, it's been a while. Life as a pro hero doesn't exactly leave much free time for reunions," Izuku nods enthusiastically, sliding a bit closer to you on the sofa until you can feel the warmth radiating from his leg just inches away. You subtly scoot away, maintaining a polite distance, his eyes wide, as he enthusiastically regals your most recent mission.

"That rescue mission form last week was just spectacular, the way you dove right in, you were just perfect, and those people you saved--" He stops himself, realizing he was about to go into a whirlwind. He lets out a nervous laugh, "Sorry,"

But you give him the best smile you can muster up with the gaping wound in your side. And subtly, almost unconsciously, his leg inches even closer to yours, again. You try to dismiss it, reminding yourself of how he always a little closer with his friends—maybe this is just another subconscious thing he did?

"Thanks, Midoriya. You’ve not done too badly yourself," you reply, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of humor. "Top five, right? I always knew you’d shoot up."

He absorbs your compliment, his face lighting up from the small bit of praise you've given him. His gaze narrows in, almost studying you, as if he’s trying to memorize your every expression.

When he speaks again, there's a hint of shyness in his voice, a subtle clinginess that feels slightly misplaced. "You know, I always thought maybe we’d end up working together, you know? Side by side." His voice dips a bit at the end, his eyes are earnest, almost pleading, as they search yours for a reaction.

"That’s...a....nice thought," deliberately avoiding his gaze, though the idea of being this close to him in any capacity would be too much, too soon.

Izuku’s expression momentarily falters, resembling a dejected puppy, and he quickly tries to mask his disappointment, shifting his demeanor to regain some of his earlier lightness. “But hey, we’re here now, right? Maybe it’s fate or something,” he jokes weakly, forcing another lighthearted laugh.

The word 'fate' hangs between you, heavy and foreboding. “Maybe,” you echo, not quite sharing in his forced cheer. The conversation pauses, leaving you acutely aware of the rapid beating of your own heart in the silence that follows.

"Yeah–heh–it’s been quite the journey," he admits, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "But....enough about me. Tell me about you. How have things been...really?"

You shift under the blanket, feeling a bit unnerved by his continued presence. Why didn't he just go to bed? You hadn't even talked much about him in the first place. Was he fishing for something?

"Busy, eventful, and endlessly tiring," you answer truthfully, hoping your frankness might send a subtle hint, topping it off with another yawn.

He nods, mouth quirking up in a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "I can imagine. It must be hard, always being on the move—never able to find time for yourself, never able to catch up. Always the playing the 'hero'."

The way he says 'hero'—with a trace of something like displeasure—makes you pause, almost surprised. "...Well, someone's gotta do it, right?"

"Right, right," Izuku agrees, though his voice trails off, leaving a lingering question in the air. He seems to gather his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours.

"You know, I've always wondered..." his tone shifts slightly, becoming more contemplative, "why we never got along better. I mean, we were always in the same circles, kind of."

You feel a slight tightening in your chest as the topic veers dangerously close to the unease you've always felt around him. "Yeah, I guess we just had different…interests," you hedge, trying to keep the conversation light and steer away from deeper waters that you’d prefer not to navigate.

How exactly could you explain to him that you found him incredibly fucking creepy until now? And even now.....

Izuku's response is slow, thoughtful. "Maybe,"

He concedes, his tone reflecting a tinge of dissatisfaction, voice more probing and less subtle than you've ever heard it before. "But I've always respected you, you know? Always thought highly of your abilities."

"Thanks, Midoriya. That means a lot," you reply, not sure how to respond, not used to the praises from someone like him.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I've always wanted to be...closer. To understand you better. I felt like we never really got the chance."

His words hang in the air, and you're hit by the raw honesty in his voice—an honesty that's bordering on confrontation or confession—you aren't sure. You scramble for a diplomatic response, your mind racing. You didn't want to upset him here, but you sure as hell weren't looking to become best buds.

"Midoriya, it’s not that we didn't get a chance. We just...didn’t.....vibe that way. It happens."

"But why?" His frustration is more evident this time, his voice tense, losing that more playful tone. "I’ve seen how you are with others—laughing, sharing. I just don't get why I never got that side of you."

"It’s nothing personal, Midoriya. I’ve always been more introverted....Maybe our timing was just....off or something."

But he just can't seem to let this go. He's always liked you, but you've always seemed to avoid him. He's never been able to figure it out.

"...I mean, it's not like I haven't tried, right?" he starts again, his tone becoming harsher, a drastic shift from his usual soft charisma. His fingers tap rhythmically against his knee, a clear sign of his restlessness. "I always asked about you, you know. Whenever I ran into someone who knew you, I made sure to find out how you were doing." The revelation sends a chill down your spine.

This could have been sweet—checking in on a friend—but his words sound creepier, like he was stalking you or something, and his intense gaze makes you recoil slightly.

"I just...I've always liked you. A lot, actually," he continues, his tone bordering on accusatory. "And I don't think you ever noticed. Or maybe you did and just didn't care."

"That’s…that's a lot to take in," you respond cautiously, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Yeah, well, it's been a lot for me too, watching from the sidelines. Always the hero everyone loves, except for the one person I actually wanted to impress," his voice rising slightly with frustration.

He continues rambling, each sentence more unsettling than the last. "I've kept tabs on you. I know it might sound weird, but I had to know. I thought if I knew more about what you liked, what you did, maybe I could find a way to be part of that." His confession sends a cold shiver down your spine.

"Isn't that just ridiculous?" he laughs, the sound hollow—bitter, filling the increasingly claustrophobic room. His eyes become distant and slightly frantic. He couldn’t stop himself.

"Midoriya, I think you’re reading too much into this—” you start, trying to defuse the tension, but he cuts you off. "No, I don't think so. I think you've always known how I felt. And you used it against me. Kept me at arm's length on purpose," he accuses, his voice turning harsh.

Witnessing Izuku transform from the awkward, 'lovable' hero you once knew into this intense, confirmed everything that nagged in the back of your head before. An anger issue? Ego problems?

"Everyone else always sees the best in me. Why couldn’t you? What made you so different?" he demands, his voice laden with a toxic mix of longing and bitterness. Finding yourself speechless, the situation spirals beyond your control. "Midoriya, please, this isn’t healthy. We should—”

"Healthy?" scoffing. "What do you know about healthy? You've barely even looked at me all these years. And now, you show up only when you need something? That's a bit contradictory, don't you think?"

The realization that you are alone with him, caught in this escalating situation, keeps you mind spiraling into a semi state of panic. Your sense heighted—fight or flight.

"You know, it's always been more than just platonic for me," his gaze cutting through the dimly lit room, locking onto you with an unsettling earnestness. He too close, too close, "I've cared about you in ways I probably shouldn't have. And I've waited...waited for you to see that."

"Midoriya, maybe we can talk about this tomorrow? It's been a long day, and I really think I should head home and rest," you suggest, reaching for your phone to call an Uber.

"You said you'd stay the night," he reminds you, snatching the phone quickly from your hands. "Are you really going to go back on your word now? After I've opened my home to you, treated your wounds?"

Caught off guard by his overt pushiness and blatant aggression, you stammer, "Hey—Midoriya, I didn't mean—"

"No, you never mean to, do you?" he cuts in, his tone increasingly harsh. "You come here, into my home, ask for my help, reject my friendship—once again, and now you want to leave just like that? It’s always the same with you. You take what you need and then you're gone."

"That's not fair, Midoriya. I appreciate everything you've done tonight, but I'm really not feeling well, and this conversation is a lot to process," you explain, trying to maintain your composure under his scrutinizing gaze.

Izuku's tone shifts, blending accusation with a hint of hurt, his face morphing into that lovable sad expression he wore on occasion. Much like a kicked puppy. "That isn't right. I thought you were a good person. I'm just trying to understand your problem with me. What's wrong with that?"

You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself amidst the emotional whirlwind he's creating. "Midoriya, trying to understand each other isn't the problem," you begin cautiously, "but the way you're going about it—it's overwhelming. It feels like you're not just asking for understanding—you're demanding a specific response from me, one that I'm not prepared to give."

His brow furrows, and his stance becomes defensive. "So, you're saying I'm overwhelming you? I'm some evil guy? Me? A top pro hero? After all these years of keeping my distance, the moment I try to be honest about my feelings, I'm suddenly too much?"

"No, that's not what I mean, Midoriya—please—"

Izuku’s question slices through the tense air, unexpected and jarring. “Do you have a boyfriend?” His tone holds an edge of possessiveness that makes you uneasy. The query, seemingly out of nowhere, is clearly aimed at gauging your 'availability'—challenging it.

“No, but that’s not the point,” but Izuku scoots in closer, his larger frame hovering over your laid back one. Yes, he was much bigger than he was in high school. And yes his broad shoulders stood out 3 inches past your own. You couldn't stop your panicked breathing, the situation too unbelievable.

As Izuku inches closer, his large frame overshadows you, physically cornering you against the back of the sofa. The space feels oppressively small, his presence suffocating. His voice carries a chilling mix of sweetness and venom that you've never heard before, unsettlingly different from the hero you thought you knew.

“So, let’s get this straight....again.,” you avoid his gaze, near impossible from how close he is, “You’ve never had time for me, always brushed off my attempts to be close, and now here you are, in my home, accepting my help after all these years. And you think you can just leave after that, like nothing happened?”

You feel a bit embarrassed when he puts it like that.

“Izuku, I just came here because I needed help, I never meant to—”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You needed help, and I was convenient for you,” he cuts you off, his voice soft but laced with a sharp edge. “Isn’t it funny how after all these years of avoiding me, suddenly I’m the one you run to when you’re vulnerable? Does that seem fair to you?”

“I’ve always cared about you, more than you know,” his voice lowering to a whisper. “I’ve watched you from afar, always hoping you’d look back. But you didn’t. And now here you are, finally seeing me, but only because you need something. Don’t you owe it to me to stay? After everything?”

His question hangs heavily in the air, charged with expectations you never consented to. Flustered and trying to maintain some sense of normalcy, you start to respond. “I-I’m sorry, Midoriya—”“—Izuku. Please, after all this time, don't you think you could call me by my first name? It’s like you’re still trying to keep me at arm’s length, even now,” The hurt very clear in his voice.

As you struggle to find the right words, trying to navigate the complex emotional minefield he specifically laid out, his next action catches you completely off guard. Without waiting for your consent, he suddenly shoots up, his arms scooping you up in a princess-style carry, far too easily, but expected from a bulky pro hero. The suddenness leaves you flabbergasted and flushing bright red.

"I-Izuku," you stammer, your voice tinged with shock and a hint of protest. "Ah, much better," he responds with a pleased smile. The smile he gives you is something else—wide and triumphant, as he carries you to another room.

The large room he brings you into is softly lit, the bed neatly made. You noticed a vanity on the side wall, feminine products lining the small shelf—eerily similar to the products you have in your cabinet at home. The room was set to your exact style, items you had at home—in your online wish list—were all here.

He sets you down gently on the bed, and the reality of the situation sinks in deeper. He observes you for a moment, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as if amused by your discomfort. As if he's observing a cute puppy, learning to walk on its own.

"Time for bed. I'll be back tomorrow." He turns to leave, and you reach out for him. "Izuku, wait—" voice laden with a plea for some semblance of normalcy—some answer to the questions you refused to voice, the room you were actively refusing to acknowledge.

"What's wrong?" he interjects with a grin, his tone cooing, demeaning, belittling. "You’re not going to ask me to tuck you in or stay the night, are you?" You could hear the underlying challenge. The jest sent to provoke something from you. "No, that’s not—I just think we need to talk about tonight," You're voice stead, yet you're on the brink of tears, the fear creeping up the back of your neck. A pro hero, a pro hero, he's a pro hero—

Izuku's face hardens at your words, his posture stiffening as he sits on the edge of the bed. "Talk? We’ve been talking all night. You said you wanted rest right?" he retorts defensively. "You’re safe here, aren’t you? I’m taking care of you, after all. What’s there to complain about?"

You know something isn’t right, but his aggressive pushback and the veiled mockery in his tone make you second-guess your instincts to speak up.

"Yeah, I...Thank you...Izuku," you find yourself saying, the words heavy on your tongue. The unease churns in your stomach, but the mean look in his eyes silences the protests forming in your mind. You lie back on the bed, covering yourself quickly, still in your street attire.

Izuku nods, seemingly satisfied with your subdued response. "See? That’s better. Just relax, I’ve got everything under control," he says, his tone soothing yet laced with a possessiveness that doesn’t escape you.

As he turns off the light and exits the room, leaving you in the dim glow of the nightlight, you're left to grapple with the unsettling blend of guilt and apprehension, too nervous now to challenge the dynamic he’s forcefully set.

Would you be allowed to leave tomorrow?

come home

[a-doubleh-x]

Why I like Charlastor

The other day I noticed there was some negativity in the Charlastor tag, including antis and people feeling the need to defend against antis, so I thought I might as well take a step back and just write candidly about why I like the ship.

I only got into Hazbin in October of last year, but already it has inspired me a lot to write and fantazise about it. Like most people, I started with the classic "they look cute together", but as I kept looking I couldn't help but think there was something else to these two than first met the eye.

For starters, I love Pollyanas! I think they get a bad rep for being naive, but I just appreciate an optimist like Charlie who just wants to make people around her happy because it makes her happy. I also like bad boys 😳 I'm a pretty heteronormative guy, so I haven't had a big chance to explore that part of myself yet, but I do like the danger and excitement someone like Alastor brings to the table.

I will admit when I started writing Charlastor I felt like I was handling dynomite. It's a lil scary to ship a boundless altruist with a manipulative sociopath, but bear with me.

I think each of them has something the other needs. I think Charlie needs someone to challenge her, someone to steer her in the right direction while she's mostly isolated. At the start of the series, practically nobody but Vaggie takes her seriously, and Alastor is no exception. He mocks her, teases her, but she still listens and I think it's because somewhere deep down she understands there's something he's trting to communicate in his annoying, but curious way.

Of course, I also love the fanon Charlie who's down bad for Alastor, and even if that Charlie is a little naive, I think it's also sweet and she can use some indulgence while most people treat her like a child.

On the other hand, when it comes to Alastor, this is a bit of a theory on my part, but I think he's secretely lonely. He has friends, certainly, like Rosie and Mimzy, but they're not good enough friends to live together with him. They don't seem to be able to save him from "pure, absolute boredom". But Charlie, for some reason can, even though she's a stranger at the beginning when Alastor chooses to move into the Hotel.

Alastor is not as much of a cynic as someone who chooses to see things in a perspective that benefits him. He doesn't think redeeming sinner is "hopeless", but "hilarious" instead, which has interesting implications to me. That's why he chooses to hover around Charlie, not because he thinks she's lame, rather because he thinks she's silly. She makes him laugh. Which I think is kind of how Alastor sees "love".

And then you have fanon Alastor who, depending on the writer, is either a horny animal, a wisecrack edgelord or a soft boy who's mean to everyone but Charlie XD I like several of those interpretations, but I kinda prefer mine just out of personal taste. I think the best part about Alastor is that he doesn't *care* what anyone thinks of him and always does what he wants, even at the expense of other people, which I find pretty enviable.

They're kinda both outcasts in their own ways. Charlie by being unable to fit in and Alastor being unwilling to compromise. But they don't judge each other. He supports her in his own weird way and she houses him and is delighted of him in general, which is tasty food for his ego. I do wonder why Alastor is interested in Charlie, both in canon and in a fandom vacuum.

There's some cool potential for drama there, but also growth and healing, in my opinion. Personally, I think Alastor doesn't want to actually *hurt* Charlie, but he may hurt those around her, which will be a moment to start settling compromises if Charlie puts her foot down.

That haz bin my review so far! I'm honestly pretty grateful for Vivziepop for all of the work she's done so far, I know directing, animating and writing two shows over the course of 5 year or so ain't easy. I'm also grateful to the fandom who shares their thoughts and vision, which calms the terrible voices I started hearing in my head since I bought this weird old radio.

I'm in the middle of a break, but if you're interested in my fanfics I'll get back to writing very soon. Cheers! 🌈❤🦌

[jewels-writes]

how i think genshin characters would react to seeing you cry

Featured characters: Kazuha, Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, Zhongli, Tartaglia, Itto, Gorou, Albedo

(If you want your own custom story with any character from any fandom, please support me on fiverr https://www.fiverr.com/share/vP6NwZ)

Kazuha

Kazuha and you had been traveling together for a while now, and you had seen their fair share of battles and hardships. But today was different. you had received some terrible news from your home world, and it was too much for you to bear.

Kazuha noticed that you were acting strangely all day. You were quieter than usual and seemed lost in thought. As you were setting up camp for the night, you suddenly burst into tears.

Kazuha was taken aback. He had never seen you cry before. He didn't know what to do or say. He just stood there, watching as you cried uncontrollably.

After a few minutes, you looked up at Kazuha with tear-stained eyes. "I'm sorry," you said between sobs. "I don't know what's come over me."

Kazuha knelt down next to you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "There's no need to apologize," he said softly. "We all have our moments of weakness."

you looked at Kazuha with gratitude in your eyes. "Thank you," you said.

Kazuha could see that you were still struggling to keep your emotions in check. He decided to do something to lift your spirits. He got up and went over to his pack, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for. He returned to you and held out a small, intricately carved flute.

"I was saving this for a special occasion," he said, "but I think this qualifies."

you looked at the flute in wonder. "What is it?" you asked.

"It's a Hulusi," Kazuha replied. "It's an instrument I learned to play when I was younger. It has a very soothing sound. Perhaps it will help calm your mind."

Kazuha sat down next to you and began to play. The sweet, mournful notes of the Hulusi filled the air, and you listened, transfixed. Slowly but surely, your tears stopped, and your breathing returned to normal.

"Thank you," you said again, this time with a small smile on your face.

Kazuha smiled back. "It was nothing," he said. "I'm just glad I could help."

As the two of you settled down for the night, the Hulusi continued to play, its music a soothing balm for your troubled soul.

Diluc

You had always prided yourself on being strong and self-sufficient, but sometimes even the strongest of us have our breaking points. And today was one of those days for you. You had just received some terrible news, news that shook you to your core, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

Diluc noticed immediately when he saw you, your eyes red and puffy, tears streaming down your face. He rushed over to you, concern etched on his face, and gently wrapped his arms around you. You couldn't help but bury your face into his chest, letting out all your pent-up emotions as he held you close.

"It's okay, I'm here," he whispered soothingly, rubbing your back as you cried.

After a while, your sobs subsided, but you were still shaking with emotion. Diluc led you to a nearby bench and sat down with you, holding your hand tightly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, not yet ready to discuss the painful news that had rocked your world. Diluc didn't press, understanding that sometimes you just needed someone to be there for you.

Instead, he focused on taking care of you. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped away your tears, his touch gentle and comforting. He then handed you a water bottle, encouraging you to take a sip.

As you sipped on the water, Diluc pulled out his phone and began playing some calming music, hoping to ease your troubled mind. He also grabbed a blanket from his backpack and draped it over your shoulders, hoping to keep you warm and comforted.

"Thank you," you whispered, grateful for his care and concern.

Diluc smiled softly, "Of course. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. With Diluc by your side, you knew you could get through anything.

Kaeya

You had been having a tough week. The stress of work and personal issues had been piling up, and you finally reached your breaking point. You found yourself crying in the privacy of your own apartment, overwhelmed with emotion. That's when Kaeya knocked on your door, having stopped by to check up on you.

He had always been a supportive friend, and his concern was palpable as he saw you crying. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, his voice laced with genuine care.

You wiped your tears away and tried to compose yourself, but the emotions were still too raw. "I don't know," you said shakily. "Everything just feels like it's falling apart."

Kaeya pulled you into a comforting embrace, letting you cry into his shoulder. "It's okay," he whispered, rubbing your back in soothing circles. "You don't have to be strong all the time. It's okay to let it out."

He led you to your couch, sitting you down and offering you a glass of water. He stayed by your side, his presence calming and reassuring. You felt safe and cared for in his presence.

As you began to calm down, Kaeya suggested taking a break from everything and going for a walk. The fresh air and change of scenery could do wonders for your mental health. You agreed, grateful for the distraction.

During the walk, Kaeya listened intently as you shared your worries and fears. He offered comfort and advice, his words gentle and supportive. He made you feel heard and understood, and the weight on your shoulders felt lighter.

When you returned to your apartment, Kaeya cooked dinner for the two of you. You sat at the table, enjoying the meal and the easy conversation. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and you were grateful for Kaeya's presence in your life.

As the night drew to a close, Kaeya hugged you tightly. "You're going to be okay," he said firmly. "And I'm here for you whenever you need me."

You smiled through your remaining tears, feeling grateful for his friendship and support. You knew that with Kaeya by your side, you could get through anything.

Venti

You are walking through the streets of Mondstadt when you suddenly bump into someone. You look up and see that it's Venti, the bard of the wind.

"Oops, sorry about that," Venti says with a smile. "Are you okay?"

You nod, but as soon as he turns to walk away, tears start streaming down your face. You try to wipe them away discreetly, but Venti notices and turns back to you.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, concern etched on his face.

You shake your head, not wanting to burden him with your problems, but the tears keep coming. Venti places a comforting hand on your shoulder and guides you to a nearby bench.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he says softly. "But I'm here if you need to talk."

You take a deep breath and try to calm down, but the tears won't stop. Venti doesn't push you to talk and instead sits beside you, offering you a tissue and a comforting presence.

After a few minutes, you start to open up to him, telling him about the struggles and difficulties you've been facing lately. Venti listens attentively, offering words of comfort and encouragement.

"It's okay to cry and let it all out," he says. "But remember that you're strong and capable, and you can get through this."

After you finish talking, Venti takes you to his favorite spot in Mondstadt, a peaceful meadow with a breathtaking view. He brings out his lyre and starts playing a soothing melody, and you feel yourself relaxing and letting go of your worries.

As the sun sets and the stars come out, Venti sets up a small picnic and brings out some of Mondstadt's famous apple cider. You talk about more lighthearted things, and Venti's contagious laughter lifts your spirits even more.

Eventually, it's time to go, but Venti offers to walk you home. As you say your goodbyes, he gives you a warm hug and whispers, "Remember, you're never alone. I'm always here for you."

As you walk back to your home, you feel lighter and more hopeful than before. You realize that sometimes, all it takes is someone to listen and offer a shoulder to cry on, and Venti was there for you when you needed it the most.

Zhongli

You have been feeling down lately, and your good friend Zhongli suggests taking a walk with you through the streets of Liyue to lift your spirits. As you walk and chat, you suddenly find yourself overcome with emotion and tears begin to stream down your face.

Zhongli immediately notices and comes to your side, asking if you're okay. You try to hold back your tears, but they keep falling. You feel embarrassed, but Zhongli is kind and patient, giving you a reassuring smile and placing a gentle hand on your back.

"Would you like to talk about what's been troubling you?" he asks softly, his voice soothing and calming.

You nod, feeling grateful for his concern. You open up about the struggles you've been facing, the stress and pressure that have been weighing on you. Zhongli listens attentively, his eyes focused on you and his expression empathetic.

"I understand how challenging things can be at times," he says, his voice gentle. "But you don't have to face them alone. I am here for you, and I will do whatever I can to support you."

With those words, you feel a sense of comfort and relief wash over you. Zhongli's words and presence are a balm to your soul, and you realize how lucky you are to have him as a friend.

As the two of you continue your walk, Zhongli offers words of wisdom and encouragement, helping to ease your worries and fears. He even takes you to a quiet teahouse where he orders your favorite tea and pastries, hoping to lift your spirits even more.

As you sit together, enjoying the warm tea and delicious treats, you feel yourself relaxing in Zhongli's company. He makes you feel safe and cared for, and you know that with him by your side, you can face whatever challenges lie ahead.

After your tea, Zhongli walks you back to your home, making sure you're okay before saying goodbye. You thank him for everything he's done for you, feeling grateful and blessed to have such a wonderful friend.

As you watch him walk away, you realize that your tears have stopped and that you feel much better. You know that there will still be challenges ahead, but with Zhongli's support and guidance, you feel more equipped to face them.

Tartaglia

You've had a long and tiring day, and when you finally get home, you let out all of the pent-up emotions you've been holding back. You start crying uncontrollably, unable to even breathe properly. You feel like you're drowning in your own tears.

Just then, there's a knock on the door. You try to stop crying and wipe away your tears, but it's too late. As you open the door, you see Tartaglia standing there with a concerned look on his face.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, stepping inside as soon as you open the door.

You try to answer, but you're still crying too hard to speak. Tartaglia just stands there for a moment, unsure of what to do. But then he takes a deep breath and steps closer to you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"It's okay," he says softly. "Let it out. I'm here for you."

Tartaglia sits down beside you on the couch and pulls you into a gentle hug, letting you cry on his shoulder. He doesn't say anything, just holds you tightly and strokes your hair.

After a few minutes, your sobs start to quiet down, and Tartaglia gently pulls away from the hug. He hands you a box of tissues and watches as you blow your nose and wipe away your tears.

"Do you want to talk about what's been bothering you?" he asks softly.

You nod, still sniffling a little bit. Tartaglia listens patiently as you tell him about everything that's been weighing on your mind lately, from work stress to personal problems. He doesn't interrupt, just nods and offers the occasional word of encouragement.

After you finish, Tartaglia takes your hand and squeezes it gently. "I'm sorry you're going through all of this," he says. "But you're strong, and you can get through it. And if you ever need someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on, I'm here for you."

You smile weakly at him, feeling grateful for his support. "Thank you," you say. "I really appreciate it."

Tartaglia stays with you for a little while longer, making you some tea and helping you relax. He even puts on your favorite show and sits with you, laughing at all the funny parts and letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

By the time he leaves, you feel a lot better than you did before. You know that you're not alone, and that you have someone to turn to when things get tough. And you know that Tartaglia will always be there for you, no matter what.

Itto

You and Itto had become close friends over the past few months since you had first met. He was always there to support you and make you laugh, but today you were feeling particularly down. You had just received some bad news and couldn't hold back your tears. You sat on a bench in the courtyard of the palace, your head in your hands, crying silently.

Itto had been walking by when he saw you, and he immediately knew something was wrong. He approached you quietly, taking a seat beside you on the bench. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, placing a hand on your back.

You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face. "It's just... it's just a lot," you managed to choke out before breaking down into sobs again.

Itto didn't say anything, instead he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. He held you tightly, letting you cry until you were ready to speak again.

Once your sobs had subsided, Itto pulled away slightly and wiped away your tears with his thumbs. "You can tell me anything," he said gently.

You took a deep breath and explained what had happened, and Itto listened attentively, nodding understandingly.

"I'm so sorry," he said, squeezing your hand. "That's really tough."

You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling comforted by his presence. "Thank you," you whispered.

Itto didn't say anything else, but he didn't need to. He continued to hold you, running his hand soothingly over your back. Eventually, you felt calmer and pulled away from him slightly.

"I feel a bit better," you said, giving him a small smile.

Itto smiled back at you. "Good. Do you want to do something to take your mind off things?"

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. Itto took you to one of his favorite spots in the palace gardens, where you spent the rest of the afternoon talking, laughing, and forgetting your worries.

Gorou

You had been feeling overwhelmed and stressed lately, with various tasks piling up and deadlines approaching. As a result, you found yourself crying uncontrollably in the middle of the bustling streets of Inazuma. People were walking past you, but you didn't care. You just wanted to let it all out.

Suddenly, you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see Gorou looking at you with a concerned expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and calming.

You shook your head, still crying. Gorou pulled you into a hug and rubbed soothing circles on your back. He held you for a while, letting you cry and release all your pent-up emotions.

Once you had calmed down a bit, Gorou took your hand and led you to a nearby tea shop. He ordered two cups of hot tea and some snacks, then sat across from you at a small table.

"I'm here for you," he said, his eyes warm and reassuring. "You don't have to go through this alone."

You nodded, grateful for his kindness. Gorou then proceeded to ask you about your problems, and you found yourself opening up to him about everything that had been bothering you.

As you spoke, Gorou listened attentively, offering words of comfort and encouragement. He told you stories of his own struggles and how he had overcome them, inspiring you to keep going.

After a while, you felt a lot better. Gorou's kindness and understanding had lifted a weight off your shoulders. He even gave you some advice on how to handle your workload and suggested some techniques to reduce stress.

"Thank you so much," you said, feeling a genuine smile on your face for the first time in days. "You're such a great friend."

Gorou smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Anytime," he said. "Remember, you can always count on me."

As you finished your tea and snacks, Gorou continued to chat with you, making you laugh and forget about your problems for a while. You left the tea shop feeling grateful for his presence in your life, knowing that he would always be there to support you.

Albedo

You had just received some distressing news and found yourself overwhelmed with emotions. You had managed to make it to Albedo's lab, where you knew you could find some solace in the quiet and serene surroundings.

As you entered the lab, you immediately felt the calm and peaceful atmosphere that Albedo always seemed to emanate. However, before you could even take a few steps forward, you broke down into tears. You tried to compose yourself, but the tears kept flowing, and you couldn't hold back the sobs that racked your body.

Albedo immediately noticed your distress and quickly walked over to you, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

You struggled to speak through the tears, but eventually, you managed to explain what had happened. Albedo listened patiently, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he tried to comfort you.

Once you had finished, he took a step back, looking at you thoughtfully. "I'm sorry that you're going through this," he said sincerely, "But please know that I'm here for you, and you can always talk to me about anything."

Albedo then guided you to a comfortable armchair and offered you a glass of water. He took a seat beside you and listened as you continued to pour your heart out to him. He offered words of comfort and encouragement, reassuring you that things would get better, and that you were not alone.

As you talked, you began to feel a sense of relief, and the tears slowly started to subside. Albedo's presence had a soothing effect on you, and you found yourself feeling more relaxed and at ease.

After a while, Albedo suggested that you rest for a while, and he helped you to lie down on a nearby couch. He tucked a blanket around you, making sure that you were warm and comfortable.

He then sat down beside you and started to talk softly, telling you stories about his travels and adventures. His voice was soothing, and the gentle lilt of his words helped to calm your mind.

As he talked, you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with you. Albedo noticed your breathing becoming slow and even and knew that you had fallen asleep.

He stayed by your side for a while, watching over you as you slept, and making sure that you were warm and comfortable. Eventually, he got up quietly and left the room, knowing that you were in a peaceful slumber.

When you woke up, you felt more refreshed and at peace than you had in a long time. You knew that you could always count on Albedo's calming presence, and that he would always be there for you whenever you needed him.

[dysany]

James Sirius Aro headcanon bc it's pride month

Listen listen, I know the hp new gen fandom really likes the "James and Alice" thing BUT guys he's SO aromantic for me. Im aromantic and I love James so much, he's probably my favorite character in the new era, so trust me ok? He's a perfect aromantic rep. Also James and Alice are queerplatonic I so sure

I like to imagine that James grew up being a kinda of casanova at Hogwarts, the guy who was seen with a new girl every week. It was something he was proud of and constantly showed off, despite never being seen dating one of these girls (reminder that not every aromantic person is asexual, and I definitely see James being just aromantic). I like to imagine that just the idea of ​​dating made James want to vomit, as a kid he was the "I'll never date! It's gross!" And he still thinks that way at 15, 16, 17 and 18 years old. He never understood why something that people said was the pinnacle of life caused him so much repulsion, and no matter how hard he tried, no romantic feelings came to him.

Imagine him just helping Albus and Rose with their LGBT projects at Hogwarts, wanting to be more open and better support his brother. Then one day, he ends up simply hearing about "aromanticity" for the first time. He questions, only to want to learn more, and Rose explains to him as much as possible about the aro community. James was absolutely in shock watching Rose describe every single mixed feeling he had about romance for years of his life, understanding that other people were also repulsed by romance that came in his stomach. The height of happiness and horror in his mind at the same time.

James would probably freak out and go into absolute denial for a while. He would ignore everything that wanted him to see more about the community and focus on trying to date girls, even wondering if he might just like boys. Liking boys seemed easier to understand than not liking anyone. I can see James squirming every time he was put in some romantic context, but forcing himself to do it for a while. And hating it all. Over time, after many crises and nights of feeling less than human because he couldn't fall in love, James would eventually have a long talk with Lily and Albus and they would help him. It takes weeks, months for James to really stop forcing himself into relationships. It takes a few more years, after Hogwarts, for him to say "I'm aromantic" out loud. A few years after that, Quidditch player James Potter is openly part of the LGBT community with a green, white and black flag. (Albus would totally make fun of him for now having a green flag. Brother thing)

In between, I like the idea that Alice was his main squire and companion. She helped him through his worst crises, took care of him on his best and worst days. She studied, talked and understood the most Possible to help him too. And if she understood a little more about herself, it was just an extra. James and Alice slowly settle into their relationship, Noting that they love each other even if not in a romantic way. The two are the kind of queerplatonic relationship that kisses, sleeps together, and has a lifetime without romance being a topic. And they never explain it, they don't need to. Alice understands James and loves being with him, regardless of everything

In other words: James Sirius Potter being Aro is so superior guys. His grandfather was the epitome of romance and this boy will vomit if he thinks about dating

[spyridonya]

Attache

Fandom: Wrath of the Righteous/BG3

Major Characters: Knight Commander Kadira, Anevia, Daeran, Raphael

Pairings: Knight Commander/Daeran (if you squint), Knight Commander/Raphael (a tease)

Summary: Kadira doesn't have to deal with a certian diplomat, she has to deal with someone else all the more dangerous. AKA Spyri figured out how to get her favorite BG3 boy into WotR

This is the most self indulgent thing I've written in a while. No one can tell me Raphael wouldn't think Kadira is the best thing since sliced bread. No beta. Maybe during for AO3.

Word Count: 804

--

"It's far too early for this, Anevia."

"And yet, there you were, Commander, up at the crack of dawn and going over battle statistics and inventory requests." The shorter woman said cheerfully, though Kadira knew the scout had an excellent poker face as they walked swiftly through the halls of Drezen’s citadel, "Visiting dignitaries from Nerosyan should be like swatting a fly."

"More like the giant variety- wait, there's more than one?" 

"Could be, you never know." The brunette chuckled as they brushed past soldiers and servants in the crowded hallway who were all a part of the continuing effort in cleaning the horrors of the catacombs the demons left below. "Though I can tell you that you were this close-" Anevia held up her fingers to barely a quarter inch, "This close to getting Lady Konomi."

"I'm too much of a Kenabras city girl and spent too much time in Absalom to know that name," Kadira said apologetically. Her lie of where she learned magic was easy to say now, as both she and Anevia trotted up the stairs to the command room. "Who is Lady Konomi?"

"The envoy being sent to Kenabras to try and charm the Prelate into playing nice. Aw, don't look so worried, Kadira. I heard about her, and Konomi probably deserves it. Just be your sweet, quiet self with this guy and use that wizard brain of yours. Also, try not to listen to the Count too much? You got this.” Anevia assured her as they reached the door, the brunette pulling it open for the tiefling. 

The room still smelled deeply of fragrant roses, the mid morning light catching the flowers closest to the balcony in a brilliant red while the ones lingering in the shadows were deeper maroon color than Kadira’s own skin. Her gaze crossed the conference table and her lips quirked at the three of her companions sitting there with an unfamiliar man. 

Sosiel was sitting politely next to Lann though his gaze was settled upon the stranger in a way that Kadira could not understand. Lann was being less polite than his seat neighbor, and leaned back on the chair while his dexterous fingers fletched a new arrow, likely tipped with cold steel. Count Arendae sat across from them animatedly talking to the stranger on his right, his green gaze rapt at the gentleman who was in the middle of the story. 

"And not only did our dear Lady Lalka send Madame Calleino packing by stealing her role," The dignitary spoke brightly, his voice deep and gave Kadira the sensation of brass and mahogany while she watched his long, elegant hands frame the air, "She somehow managed to upset a chorus girl had been warming up dear Maestro Kamiński's bed."

"You don't say," Daeran breathed, hand on his chin as he listened to the other man, his lips curved in an amused feline expression, "And with one false move, of the most beautiful women in Mendev has single handedly destroyed what meager season opera we have planned this winter in Nerosyan, all because she couldn't stand her rival? Well, I thought I dodged a bullet last fall, but I’m aghast to find out I could have been a part of such a remarkable scandal."

"If the demons don't ransack the Royal Mendevian Theater, surely Laka will!" The laughter that escaped the stranger was deep, mirthful, and he turned his head to see Kadira and smiled while he rose from his seat. He was an older human man, with a patrician handsomeness that paired well with his coppery warm skin. His eyes were large and dark, yet deep set, with sharp brows and even sharper cheekbones. His chestnut hair was brushed back and sleek from forehead over his skull, but she could see the curls at the nape of his neck. 

"And what do we have here? An angel draped in the gown of the Diaboli and yet she has the eyes the color of Heaven." The human offered his hand, "The Knight Commander of the Fifth Crusade stands before me, most certainly."

"Good morning," Kadira said quietly and briefly glanced at Daeran for advice, expecting the scowl that was blooming to settle on her. Rather, the aasimar’s displeasure was settled on the dignitary.  "After all that flattery, you have me unawares, sir-?"

"I am Lord Diotallevi, Official Attache to Her Majesty, Queen Galfrey." The stranger's warm hand took her o(wn, "My credentials are being  given the most critical eye by the Paralictor and Commander Tirabade. However," His hand lifted his hers and he bowed his head, the kiss across her knuckles surprised her as the flutter beneath her chest, "Your reputation precedes you, Kadira Storadottir. You must call me Raphael. I insist."

And when he smiled up to her, Kadira found herself smiling back. 

[certifiedlurker]

Why? Why do you all keep doing this to yourselves. Listen with all those false rape charges, the phone call of Poi, the larger fandom's disinterest in talking about how fuel was added to fire: I felt bad for Build even if I was willing to stand by Poi till the end. Then came a compromise at court and settling and I had no idea what to think. I was maybe influenced because of my bias with roots in an earlier fondness ( and that's terrible isn't it?), to try and maybe understand where Build was coming from. I really couldn't make sense of the official statements...and I think for a period of time, I blinded myself with the narrative his Stans built. But then it seemed too fragile of an argument and I didn't really want to waste my time anymore so I kind of let it go. Idk for what reason I came to check his tag today but it seems like he has done something...again? You all ( those who are ardent supporters of build) are right that it is a pre planned attack after salvaging some of the image but damn is that all you see? I understand this is malicious...but don't you all see the person he is? You all are arguing about the ethics of leaking a chat. Well that's all well and good but what about what's in the chat. Build seems distressed over the chats being leaked than being remorseful about what he said. it's like being sorry for being caught isn't it? I go through tags and I see that you all are saying that fans of other actors should be measured in their reaction. That they should not forget it's a career/life of an actor in line. To be very honest I don't think you all have the right to dictate how other fans of other actors who got badmouthed should react. And I think with homophobic or racist or sexist comments a lot of lives are in line. You all said that for Poi, the best thing is that she gets out of this cycle and gets mental help. Like yeah...if she is this dedicated to her "break up revenge", then she should. But Build needs to get out too. He needs to get out and learn what he did wrong. And why he did it. And activeiy make an effort to go to the roots of his hate and untangle it. You can't seriously deny that he needs to learn to be a good person. In fact good or bad is subjective. But at least a genuine one. What is this? I know we bitch to our friends when we get jealous. We can be jealous of our loved ones too. So at least own up to that. Or if not that get out and start to work on the cause of it. How long are you willing to stand with your undying support of him? Is this even good for him?

[danpuff-ao3]

Ending Mutuals March on a very special note. PI, @perverse-idyll, my longtime writing crush, and now my friend.

It was love at first sight when The White Road was first posted. I can't remember when I first read it, but it was around the time it was posted for sure. And I've read that fic every year since. At least once a year, if not more. By the time I read When the Rose and the Fire Are One I knew it was true love!

PI's stories have been deeply meaningful to me for a long time. And I have always admired her skill. Prose? Gorgeous, stunning, perfect. With great knowledge and great passion she strings words into gorgeous treasures. Raw stones left to their rough glory, or shaped and shined as needed. Not only a gifted wordsmith, but a wise and empathetic person who understands the human condition, and the complexities of emotion. Someone with great love for beloved characters, but also great understanding. Love born of understanding, which is everything I long for!

We love the same characters, and the same OTP. She does such justice to these characters, and their dynamic. She's always written Snarry exactly how I needed it. I have treasured her works for many years, and they have been my favorites for many years. Of course, in those earlier days I was much too shy to let her know just what her works meant to me.

Then, in recent years, I had my first interaction with PI. On Reddit, of places. I recced one of her fics and she responded to it which blew my mind a bit, since her Reddit name isn't perverse_idyll, lol! So...I tried to be chill, which if you know me, you know how hard that is! Me, but an overenthusiastic fangirl trying not to scare off her faves, haha! If I remember correctly, I finally set about drafting a comment on The White Road not long after that. Long overdue that one!

Then...time went on. During a very rough period with an old fandom group, I turned to PI's works for comfort. And in November 2021, the same month I left that old fandom group, PI's episode on @fanficmaverickpodcast (Ep. 25 interview) was released!

I was over the moon excited to listen to it! But the sort of excited that meant I couldn't dive in right away. I had to run around and squeal a bit and settle myself down in order to listen. It is a long episode, two and a half hours long, but well worth it! The host, ChaosBlue, is a dear friend of mine now, and a very professional and charming host. And perverse_idyll was a fantastic guest, with so much insight and enthusiasm for fandom and for writing. 10/10 recommend it. I ran around and shared the episode everywhere I could.

And then...Reddit. PI shared the episode on Reddit, with encouragement for others to reach out to ChaosBlue to do their own episode. And...I did! God, that's a whole other post in of itself and how amazing ChaosBlue is, but basically...I felt pretty audacious! I had to work myself up quite a bit to reach out. And as hard as it was to reach out, I don't think I'd have found the courage to even think about it without PI's little note. It both inspired and comforted me. And doing my own interview for the podcast was such a great (and terrifying!) experience that I'm glad I did. (See: ep. 32 Interview)

From there...it came over time. PI was so kind and supportive about my interview. I found the bravery to reach out to her directly at some point. And though she is quite the busy lady, she is always so giving of her time and energy in responding when she can! PI is such an encouraging, generous, compassionate, supportive spirit. One I feel very blessed to know. She has so much clear respect and admiration for other creators. So much love and dedication to fandom, however busy or wild life may be.

Other fandom experiences reminded me of why they say to never meet your heroes. But PI spared me from being too wary of folk. PI is an excellent reminder that, sometimes, the creators we admire are even better humans.

PI's works were so meaningful to me for so long. And PI as a person has just as much impact! Thank you for being my friend, PI. Thank you for everything that you do. Thank you for all that you give to fandom; for all that you create, and all the support you give. And thank you most of all for being there for me. And showing such kindness and gentleness in times I needed it most, whether you knew it or not.

Here's to you, my friend. Time for me to wipe my eyes and drop some recs! Maybe by the end we'll have forgotten what an emotional mess I am LOL.

The Afterlight

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Work in progress. Background case. Mutual pining. Friends with benefits. Denial of feelings. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Eventual happy ending.

Y'all cannot know how thrilled I was when PI posted a new fic. This one! And though it's only just begun, I already feel in my bones it will be a new favorite! PI as ever provides Snarry exactly the way I love it!

After surviving the Battle of Hogwarts, a long convalescence, and a short trial, Snape walks free and promptly vanishes from Wizarding society. Six years pass before he shows his face again. A lot can change in six years, and a romantically disillusioned and inebriated Harry hits Snape up for a friends-with-benefits arrangement. After all, they share an experience most people have never had: they both know what it's like to be dead. Their liaison works surprisingly well until Harry's reckless behaviour as an Auror leads to unethical practices and personal calamities, and things start to fall apart.

Candles Lit Against the Dark

Minerva/Wilhelmina. Minor Harry/Severus. Rated: G. Words: 13,585. Old friends. Postwar. Heavy drinking. Fond bickering. Snapecase 2023.

Many feelings. Very realistic and bittersweet. With all of the realism of life, for all of its rough edges, uneven paths, and the love found along the way.

It's been a few months since Minerva's retirement, and she'd promised Wil a dinner out. Before she knows it, friends start turning up on her doorstep and then at the pub, not least among them a certain spy who came in from the cold.

In Infinite Remorse of Soul | And Mine the Gall

Albus/Severus. Harry/Severus. Revenge. Obsession. D/s undertones. Afterlife. Incest (ish.) Dub-con. Twisted love.

I am obsessed. This is dark and fucky and weird and wonderful and gorgeous. The sequel, And Mine the Gall, features one of the lines that has most haunted out of every fic I've read. Love it love it love it!

Albus Dumbledore never makes the same mistake twice. Certainly not in love.

No Room for the Weak

Eileen POV. Rated: T. Words: 10,444. Dysfunctional family. Mindfuck. Pre-Snarry.

Love love love love love this. Some Snape family history. Eileen is great. Very fascinating look at the woman who bore and raised Severus.

There's a Boy Who Lived and a boy who didn't, and even a mother can't always tell them apart.

The Son

Regulus POV. Rated: T. Words: 5,422. Unhappy families.

First there were two sons. Then there was one.

Warm

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 11,323. PWP. Fluff & smut.

PWP feels wrong for this. So much sensuality and tenderness and good god the LOVE here. Also, I'm sorry, but Harry and Severus existing as themselves basically is plot, but I digress....PI says it's PWP so it's PWP. I'm not going to argue with her!

Severus still suffers the after-effects of Nagini's venom, especially in winter. Harry knows just how to warm him up.

When the Rose and the Fire Are One

Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 81.619. Confinement. Dysfunctional Relationships. Spinner's End. Dubious consent. Sex magic.

Cool magic stuff. The best OC I've ever met (Odile, my beloved.) Ideas of Spinner's End and Eileen Snape that have lived in my head ever since. Big angst and fuckery. Great characters. Great relationship development. Everything is just...A+, chef's kiss, amazing.

Harry's haunted by guilt. Snape's warded by roses. Each must free the other in order to free himself.

The White Road

Lily POV. Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 47,877. Afterlife. Romance. Redemption. Voyeurism. Incestuous vibes.

Longtime favorite. One of the first fics that fully blew me away. I read this and thought "this does not belong on the internet, this belongs on a bookshelf."

One day, comfortably set up in the afterlife, Lily Evans Potter switches on the telly and gets hooked on the Harry Potter show.

for an explanation about Mutuals March, or to figure out why i wrote you a thing, please check out this post.

[amandasstuffq]

OC post

Posted for my best friend because why not

Ignore all the random stuff it's just notes and other weird stuff

Summary: stomach flu with my babies Frankie and Jude

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Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Gen

Fandom:

Original Work

Relationships:

Frankie Wallas & Jude Wallas

Frankie Wallas & Adam Wallas & Max Wallas

Original Male Character(s) & Original Male Character(s)

Characters:

Frankie Wallas

Jude Wallas

Adam Wallas

Max Wallas

(Mentioned) Jaeden Wallas

Additional Tags:

Stomach Ache

Sickfic

Sick Character

stomach flu

Brotherly Love

Sibling Bonding

Adopted Sibling Relationship

Adopted Children

Whenever Frankie awoke to the sound of crying and retching from either side of his shared room, he knew that the day had already gone to shit. It wasn't like other days were much better, but this was true hell. He hated sickness with a passion, and other people being sick made things worse. They were entirely too whiny.

"Frankie!" Jude, one of his younger adoptive brothers, wailed from the left bathroom.

Frankie rolled over, grabbed his pillow, and jammed it over his ears in hopes to block out his brother. "I'm asleep!"

His younger brother tried to say something else, but it was cut off by a very violent sounding gag. Frankie grumbled before his damned sympathy got the best of him, and he shoved his blankets aside to get up. Despite his two younger brothers being extremely annoying, Frankie would be lying if he said he didn't love Jude and his other younger brother, Jaeden.

Frankie had been pulled from his original home whenever he was barely six years old. So many houses later, and a very defiant and angry Frankie landed in the home of Adam Wallas and Max Brown. It has taken a while to get used to being somewhere so stable. Other homes had used punishment and fear as a means to get Frankie to listen; even though it never worked, it felt nice to not have to worry about various means of trouble.

Whenever Frankie got settled enough to be civil and even nice to his foster dads, they introduced the idea of a new sibling. A little perturbed, Frankie backed away from the idea immediately. A new kid meant all of the attention wouldn't be on him anymore, and Frankie didn't like to lie that he hated the attention from his foster dads. 

Eventually though, Frankie came around to the idea of a new kid. He was around ten at the time, so a new playmate sounded quite nice. Around Christmas, Adam and Max got a placement, but something they didn't mention to Frankie was that they were actually in the right space to have two more children, and two more came. A set of twins, Jude and Jaeden. They were just four when they came to stay with Adam and Max. 

They cried a ton which made Frankie quite mad. He hated loud noises but so did the toddlers. Going back to some of his more defiant actions, Frankie would take every opportunity to yell at something. A spider? He would yell. Drop something? He would yell, and Frankie always made sure that he was around the twins. It drove Adam and Max absolutely insane. It lasted for a good three months before Frankie's foster dads took action.

"We understand that you want our attention, but that isn't the way to get it." Adam said sternly. "You have to stop scaring Jude and Jaeden if you want to become permanent in our household."

Frankie was tall for his age, standing at a good five foot six. Adam was short for his age, standing at five foot seven. Since Frankie was nearly as tall as his foster father, he stepped closer, nearly bumping chests with him. Frankie had an infuriated scowl on his face. All of his previous foster fathers had been so much taller than him that he couldn't intimidate them; they also hadn't been kind enough to care. 

"What are you going to do if I don't stop? Are you going to hit me?" Frankie tested the waters for how far Adam will go to save Jude and Jaeden's feelings.

Adam stayed calm and gently took a step back from Frankie. "Fran, you know Max nor I would ever hit you. This coping strategy with change isn't good for you, and you know it."

This was when Frankie felt his aggravated emotions skyrocket and his blood boiling over the edge of the imaginary pot. How did Adam know what was good for him? He only knew Frankie for two years! That's definitely not enough time to try and get on his level, much less to talk about his coping skills! It's not right for an adult to try and relate with Frankie; no adult would ever understand. Nobody would ever understand!

"I hate you! I wish I'd never came here, and I wish those two babies were never born!"  Frankie shrieked in his squeaky, ten-year-old voice.

With that, he stopped off to what he called his room, expecting another move quickly after his outburst. He grabbed his previously filled trash bag and started to shove all the clothes he could fit, his favorite toy, and his teddy bear into it. It's not like after an argument that bad Adam and Max would keep him around Jude and Jaeden. It was unheard of for a foster parents to ever listen to the older kid; they always listened to the younger kid, coddled the younger kid, loved the younger kid more. Frankie heard the phone ring.

After a while of sitting and waiting for Adam to come and tell him that he was moving, the moment finally came where the door was opened. Adam and Max came strolling in his room like nothing out of the ordinary happened. Jude and Jaeden were still in their nap phase after all this time, so they were probably cuddled up together on the couch. Frankie threw his trash bag at their feet and crossed his arms defiantly, bracing himself for the talk ahead.

"Frankie," Max said. "uncross your arms and unpack your stuff.

Frankie looked up at his foster dad with a bewildered expression. Were they not kicking him out after what he said? A smile spread across Adam's face. It was like a smile just belonged there; he was always cracking a stupid joke or laughing loudly. All of his laughs came straight up from his heart. it was extremely refreshing to be around a parent who knew when to laugh at something Frankie said and when to be stern.

"We aren't sending you anywhere else other than here, so you can get that thought out of your head." Adam continued.

Max nodded his head at his boyfriend's declaration. "We just need to talk about your behavior towards Jude and Jaeden, and why you're acting this way."

Abort! Frankie hated feelings talk; he hated everything about feelings in general, and he never wanted to talk about them. His actions were even worse of a conversation topic because he didn't know why he did most things! He let his heart take the wheel and didn't think about anything until the end. You see; if he thought about what he could've said earlier, he never would've said he wished Jude and Jaeden weren't born. That was just asking to get sent away which he didn't even really want to happen.

Completely closing off his responses, Frankie pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his head on top. "I don't want to, Max."

"Oh, come on, Fran!" Adam said with a big grin. "When has Frankie Wallas ever not do something because he was being a chicken."

Frankie furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "My last name isn't Wallas; yours is."

"I'll tell you why I said that whenever you tell us why you yelled about Jude and Jaeden."

Frankie sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. It was a way to calm himself down; the spots that it made were interesting to focus on. Frankie had a very bloody internal battle over whether he was going to admit his reasoning behind wanting his foster dads' attention. It really wasn't all that big of a deal to tell them, but that would be admitting that Frankie needed support. That was something that seemed somewhat like a failure, but Frankie really wanted to know the reason behind Adam calling Frankie 'Frankie Wallas'.

"I don't like the babies because, whenever they get older, you'll love them more than me!" Frankie exclaimed.

Adam's smile dimmed, and he made his way cautiously across the room to where Frankie sat on his bed. Whenever Frankie didn't shy away from the close proximity, Adam took it as an okay to sit beside him on the bed. It was also refreshing to not have a parent that was afraid to approach Frankie, but he'd never say it to Adam's face. That was also admitting he needed support, and that doesn't fly in Frankie's mind.

"Fran, we'd never love Jude and Jaeden more than you. If anything, they love you more than they love us. Have you ever wondered why they gravitate towards you?" Adam's hand laid itself on Frankie's back.

That certainly was true, Frankie admitted to himself. No matter how loud he screamed, Jude and Jaeden would always hug him when he came home from school. They would always babble in their four-year-old talk in high squeaky voices. They were always invading his bed and cuddling up into his side. It was weird for Frankie to have little siblings who cared for him or even little siblings at all. He was usually the youngest in his foster families.

"I guess so. But how do I know that you won't stop loving me?" Frankie muttered, almost leaning into Adam's touch. Almost.

Max came around on his other side and sat down. "Fran, if we were ever going to stop loving you, tell me why Adam and I agreed with the agency to adopt you." 

Frankie's mind short-circuited. Adoption? He was going to stay here? He stuttered a few seconds before closing his mouth again, trying not to convey his happiness. In all honesty, he really did need Max and Adam; they were the only set of foster parents he'd ever had that took the time of day to get to know Frankie rather than just boss him around all day. Bossing Frankie around never went very well.

"You want to adopt me?" Frankie asked incredulously.

"Of course we do." Adam said with that signature, bright smile on his face.

He pulled Frankie into a hug; and for once, Frankie smiled. A real, genuine smile.

As Jude and Jaeden grew up, they came to be very smart kids. Got good grades in everything, never missed a question. Where they lacked was in social cues and emotions. They were smart but at what cost? Adam and Max always made sure to stroke their ego for every good paper they brought home; now, don't get Frankie wrong, Adam and Max loved Frankie just as much as Jude and Jaeden. After two years and three adoptions later, they managed to convince him.

Where Frankie really excelled was in sports. Basketball was totally his passion. Adam and Max pushed him into doing soccer, and he hated it. He said he would never trust their judgement for extracurriculars ever again, but that didn't last for long whenever they suggested a basketball summer camp during the summer before his sixth grade year. In one of his previous homes, Frankie had watched women's basketball almost every single day. The house was all girls besides for him, so it was pretty much useless to try and persuade them to watch men's basketball.

"Frankie!" Jude's distressed voice brought Frankie back into reality.

Frankie got up from his warm, amazing bed and stretched for a moment. The left bathroom was always cold, especially when it's winter. That's why it's Jude and Jaeden's bathroom. They loved the cold weather and got hot extremely easy, and nobody was a fan of Jude and Jaeden's attitudes when they were too hot. 

"I'm coming, Jude." Frankie called out sleepily.

Padding his way to the bathroom, Frankie heard Jude groan out in agony. He hated to think of his little brother in pain, but it was kind of funny. That was just who Frankie was; he found the worst kind of things funny. Laughing in unideal situations was his forte. As he entered the bathroom, he was met with a lot of annoying things. Smells, sights, sounds, all of them. Jude was crumpled against the toilet with his head resting on the seat. His hands were thrown lazily around the bowl.

Frankie kneeled down, trying to ignore the horrible stench coming from his little brother, and put a hand on his forehead. It was absolutely burning! Frankie chewed on his lip contemplatively for a moment before reaching up into the cabinet above the mirror to get the thermometer. Getting back into his knees, Frankie grabbed Jude's face gently and pulled it up where he could see and reach it.

"It'll be okay, Jude. I just have to find out your temperature to tell Adam and Max." Frankie explained softly.

"Fran, why do you not call them dad?" Jude opened his mouth to take the thermometer in.

"Because they aren't my dads. I wouldn't expect you to understand, not really. They're basically all you've ever known since you could remember but not me." 

This is probably the most open he'd ever been with Jude. Opening up to his younger brothers was always something his foster dads were fond of, but Frankie never really warmed up to the idea. Opening up was hard enough, but his younger brothers weren't the most sympathetic kids in the world. They were actually the opposite. Emotions never came easily to them. If somebody was crying, they'd stray as far away as they could. Jude and Jaeden were also insensitive little shits whenever they wanted to be. Mostly all the time, that is.

But apparently, this was moment where Jude was softer than usual.

"Well, if they're not your dads, how are you my brother? Because you're obviously my brother!" Jude lifted his head off the toilet and laid it on Frankie's arm.

Frankie stiffened a little at the sudden touch, but he eventually leaned into it. "Yes, you are my brother. It's just different with parents, Jude. I don't think I'll ever think of them as my dads no matter how hard I want to."

"Then how are they my dads?" 

"You do know we're not related by blood, right?"

Jude seemed to be recalibrating. It wasn't like it was a huge shock; not to Frankie anyway. Jude had dark, black hair that was loosely curly since he came from Persian ancestors. Of course, Jaeden looked the same as he and Jude were identical twins. No matter how often people said 'the more the merrier', it was never true for Jude and Jaeden. One was more than enough for the Wallas'. 

Jude looked up at Frankie sadly. "We aren't brothers?" 

"You're sad about that?" Frankie rolled his eyes fondly.

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

"You're an insensitive asshole most of the time, Jude. You certainly don't act like you'd miss me."

"Well, I would; and for your information, you don't act like you'd miss me much either."

"Well, I would."

Jude looked up at him for a second before smiling his stupid, innocent smile that drew people in from everywhere. His smile that could win him every toy that came from a children's restaurant. His smile that even made Frankie love him no matter how much of a little weirdo he was being. Jude Wallas was a one of a kind, and everybody knew it. 

"You'd miss me if I was gone, Fran?" Jude grinned even larger than before, but this was an evil grin.

Frankie scoffed and pushed Jude's face off his arm softly. "You just can't be serious for one second.

"You don't like serious conversations. I know that about you." 

"Whatever."

Frankie got up off of his knees and stretches his arms high above his head. Since Jude had stopped throwing up, Frankie would deposit him in his bed then go check on Jaeden. Jaeden was more of an independent, quiet soul than his twin brother. It was obvious by just looking at them. 

Despite his earlier turmoil about his siblings, he decided in that moment that he truly loved them. 

He always will.

Notes:

There will be more Jaeden content, but I really love Frankie and Jude's relationship.

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[sometimesraven]

Perfect

Whumptober No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.” Safety Net | Swooning |

Fandom: Quantum Leap (2022) POV Character: Ian Wright Whumpee: Ian Wright

Mental illness isn't pretty, and sometimes the thing that sparks a spiral seems completely unrelated to the spiral itself -- Jenn knows this. Sometimes supporting your friends means a patience, forgiveness, and knowing when to walk away.

AO3 Link

Doors locked. Windows locked? No, windows open. Stinks in here. Adjust the rug. Adjust it again. Adjust it again. Why? Something bad. What? Something. Do it again.

Ian huffed to themself, sweeping dust out of the rug for the sixth time that day, ready to be vaccuumed again. Was that a stray hair settling on the table? Hm. They made a mental note to spray and clean it again, chiding themself for letting the place get this dirty. They'd just have to work harder whenever they got back from Quantum Leap. Sleep be damned.

"You know the place is fine, right?" Jenn was here. Right. They'd forgotten she had a key, and now she was stomping all over the rug they just cleaned and eating chips near the couch and putting an empty can on the table.

"Are you stupid?" The words snapped from behind clenched teeth before Ian could stop themself, snatching the can up and throwing it unceremoneously into the trash. Jenn rolled her eyes at them, smart enough to at least fold over her chip packet and shove it back in her pocket, but then dusted her hands off on their jeans, which led to another bout of rug-sweeping.

"What? I was gonna throw it away in a minute."

"The place is not fine," Ian snapped, ignoring her defence entirely, "it's gross and you're not helping."

"Oooh-kay." Jenn rolled her eyes again, flopping down onto the couch with a huff. "Lemme know when you're done with whatever this is."

Of course she didn't understand. She never understood when it was important; nobody did. A wave of deep, crushing loneliness squeezed at Ian's chest and settled like poison on their tongue -- she couldn't understand how important this was. They were alone with it, as always. Worse still, they couldn't even begin to describe the mess of directions in their head when everything they felt just mixed and soured into rage: she's mocking you. Wants you to fall apart. If you listen to her she'll ruin you. "Just because you can live in that nasty-ass apartment doesn't mean we all have to live to that standard, okay?"

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Jenn was offended now. The vague judgement that seemed to permanently live in her eyes was narrowed into hurt and somehow the guilt only made them more mad.

"It means stop sitting there like you're trying to ruin my life and help me or get out!"

Jenn winced at the tone of their voice. She hated being yelled at, especially by Ian. She hated being told to leave. Ian knew all this, but they continued scrubbing the table as if the state of the glass was directly responsible for this entire situation, while their stomach clenched and their chest pounded just leave just leave, I don't want to hurt you any more.

But then she was gone. A door slammed and a cry tore from their throat. Don't leave! I need you!

When did they end up on the floor? Why was the world swimming-- when did Jenn come back? Why were her arms around them, guiding them to the couch, they should be mad they should be screaming at them, they were imperfect.

They couldn't bring Ben back.

"I'm so scared," they whispered, Jenn's shirt already damp from their tears.

"I know," she sighed, petting their hair in soothing circles.

"I screwed everything up..." Great, they were full on ugly-sobbing. Jenn was gonna have to change her shirt and Ian was going to be all puffy for days.

"It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

[my-name-is-bunnyfoxy]

To add on about donnies actions being let off the hook in the fandom, I read a fanfiction once after donnies gifts where Leo gets angry at him and starts going off about how bad of a gift the shock collar was and how dehuminizing and insulting it felt which then donnie apologizes and goes to his lab to be sad and whatnot. Then in the fic Raph and Mikey are like "cmon leo your being too harsh on him" and leo has to go apologize to donnie. It's was so weird to me since Leo's reaction seemed completely justified for the situation

No, because all of the brothers deserved to be pissed at Donnie. And if my brothers told me I was being harsh towards my brother AFTER HE PUT A LITERAL SHOCK COLLAR ON ME, WHICH BTW COULD HAVE POSSIBLY CAUSED SOME KIND OF PHYSICAL AFFECT ON LEO THAT COULD HAVE ALSO BEEN PERMANENT JUST A FRIENDLY REMINDER AND ALSO A POSSIBILITY, I'd lose my literal sanity and tell them to shut their mouths. I'm not gonna all of a sudden forgive my brother for doing that. If Leo actually did that in cannon, I'd be routing for him and would literally be annoyed if he just forgave Donnie just like that.

Oh and this also made me realize. Why the hell did Leo get the most brutal "gift"?? Like- couldn't Donnie just make a machine that only mutes his voice or changes his voice into something, which could have been funny, and not make instead a shock collar?? A shock collar is literally brutal. Meanwhile, Raph only got a helmet that kept annoying him with some kind of instructions or whatever. And Mikey got a jumpsuit that inflates whenever he does one of his flips or moves. Why in the world did Donnie of all things settle on a shock collar?? Like why of all things a shock collar??

Like bro- if we thought more realisticly, couldn't have this possibly affected Leo in some way? What if he ended up having burns around his neck or his neck simply hurted a lot or something along those lines? Do ya'll ever think about the fact this couls have easily affected Leo in some physical and or negative way? Am I the only one who only now realizes this and os questioning all of this??

Seriously though, I genuinely don't understand why a shock collar was even necessary. Listen Leo can yeah be annoying sometimes but a SHOCK COLLAR!? How messed up do you have to be to do that??

Sorry for this long rant but this only just now made me realize just how genuinely messed up this is. I'd probably even cut off my brother if he did that to me. I would literally be mortified if my damn brother did that. I'd also probably be afraid he would possinly do that again to me.

Again sorry for this long rant. I had to get this off of my chest.

[queers-gambit]

Sweetest Devotion

[ part two ] [ alternate ending one: Kin Slayer ] [ series masterlist ]

prompt: exhausted by the war efforts, your husband does what he can to protect you. but maybe in the end, it'll be you who saves him.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.3k+

note: two parts because total word count was at 17k. also, this is the final, people!!

warnings: major book spoilers. cursing, some angst, some comfort, author projects a little, major alternate timeline ending. ❗️SPOILERS

The storm had followed Aemond home to wreck havoc over King's Landing, flooding the streets and homes in Flea Bottom and low bearing homes.

You weren't sure how long you sat in silence together, but your heart was weeping, and you had no earnest idea on how to move forward from this moment. Your baby brother, the sweet Prince Lucerys, had met his end from your husband's ruthless pursuit of revenge.

Though it was his dragon that did the slaying, he is still Vhagar's rider and wanted revenge; though he would've settled for an eye, the dragon did not understand.

Aemond was silent beside you, the storm heard from the Dragon Caves as water gently leaked through cracks in the foundation. You thought the weather matched your mood and did little to quell the raging tempest that built in your chest and head; if anything, it spurred your anger onward. Tears leaked from your eyes with no sign of stopping; legs remaining bent to keep your arms tight around them. You also could not meet his gaze, nor look upon his face without picturing your baby brother screaming in terror.

You sniffled several times as you couldn't do much else but cry, but then, you made a swift decision. Jumping to your feet, you muttered, "I must go."

"Wait," Aemond stood after you, following you to your saddled dragon. Kasta raised her head and narrowed her eyes in threat, growling when Aemond reached for you. "Sweet girl, please, just hang on a second - "

"No," you sneered, wheeling around on him - meeting his eye at last. "You did this. You killed my brother, and what I need right now, is fucking space."

"How do I know you're not leaving for good? Fleeing to tell your mother the news?" He asked hopelessly. "Please, my love, understand that I cannot let you leave me. I cannot bare it."

"You cannot keep me here," you whispered in return. "You said you'd smuggle me out of the city if I wanted. Well, this is what I want - to fly with Kasta, and to be rid of your presence for now."

Tears filled his violet eye, "Please tell me you will return?"

"What if I don't?" You sneered. "Will you get on Vhagar and follow me, too? Hunt me down in the skies, maybe? Let your dragon eat Kasta and I for her main course?"

The emerald green dragon positioned above you glowered, and bore her teeth as if to dare your husband to do anything.

"You know I'd never hurt you," he whispered, but reached for your arms. "I need you to step away with me, please. We need a word."

"A word? A word? You need a word with me? Where was that courtesy for my brother? A boy of only ten and four!? Hey!?"

But you silenced yourself when Vhagar lifted her head from her alcove and swung it to watch the three of you - making Kasta go on the defense. "Kasta," you demanded in High Valyrian, "enough. Do not engage."

Your dragon growled still, standing rigidly above you as Aemond's hands tightened over your upper arms. "Listen to me," he begged still, making your glare turn back to his lone eye, "and believe me, please, none of this was my intention."

"You've made that clear. Yet what I can understand, is that you antagonized a child and your dragon does not understand limits nor bounds. She does not understand you only wanted to torment and scare the boy, and when his dragon reacted in an effort to protect his rider, you lost control."

"Why is his dragon understood and mine crucified?"

You scoffed, "Truly? What business did a 10-year-old child have claiming some 180-year-old dragon!?"

"Now that is on trial!?"

"Aemond, what are you expecting here?" You snapped, ignoring the way your skin seared under his touch. "You and your fucking dragon killed my brother, end of story, end of sentence, no other room for judgement. This is your sin to bear, not mine, though I am now burdened with knowing my husband claimed the innocent life of my brother! How could you?" You whispered, stepping closer as your voice lowered but still rang clearer than the storm raging outside. Both hands tightened over his biceps, begging, "How could you do this? To me? To us? To my Mother? If it was an eye you wanted, you can have mine - both if it would satisfy you."

His head shook, "No. No, I would not - do not twist this on me."

"I am assuring you that there were any other way to solve this, and should you remember correctly, we married so that your pride might be soothed. As payment for my brother's actions, my hand was offered, and your father accepted that proposal. Pray tell me how that was not enough? After all this time?" Your arms laid over his to grab the muscle above his elbow; his grip tightening on your waist. "Why did you do it? Why did you push for this? It is by your selfishness that my brother isn't even allowed to be buried!"

"Say the word and we will go find him now," Aemond shook his head.

You scoffed, then nodded solemnly. "Truly?"

"I would do anything to right this terrible wrong. If it meant you stayed, if it meant I kept you, I would do anything."

You nodded again and tried to smile, but your tears made it difficult. Before Aemond could blink, your hands reached for his belt and yanked the leather free; grabbing his long-sword in hand and shoving the weapon into his chest - which forced him back two steps.

"Gut your dragon," you whispered into the eery silence.

"What?"

"Gut Vhagar and pull my brother's body free before the acids have time to dissolve him further," you sneered, pressing the sword harder.

"My love," he begged softly.

"No? Is that refusal?" You goaded.

"You know I cannot."

"Then there is nothing more I want from you than to be free to take my dragon into the skies. I cannot look at your face longer, knowing what I know now. I need time to think."

His hand softly folded over yours, pausing a moment to ask, "Is there any way you could forgive me?"

"I need to first find a way to fully stomach what you've done, then we might ponder if I can forgive you. I would not hold my breath if I were you, though."

His hand tightened over yours, nodding as he repeated to you your words from earlier that day in High Valyrian, "I will wait for you forever, if I must. But do not make me... Please."

You snorted through your nose, shaking your head, "Do not do that. Do not try to romance me now. You cannot possibly have love for me if your dragon ate my fucking brother."

You pulled away from him in full to make for Kasta again. Sword laid forgotten in the sand as he called after you, "Just be careful, my love, please. There's a storm tonight."

"Yes, I've ears to hear with, thank you!" You snapped over your shoulder. "I will be fine."

You wanted to tell him you'd return, but in truth, you were unsure if you were able to. You wanted to go back before today, before the love of your life had killed and eaten your little brother. Well, his dragon did the eating, and while that's not Aemond, and beasties are allowed to be wild from their masters, you were disgusted looking at him.

Kasta purred when you got to her side and easily climbed on top of the saddle, sparring Aemond only a single look before encouraging your dragon from the Caves under the Dragon Pit.

Aemond had to flatten himself against the Cave wall as Kasta surged past him - bursting into the frigid air, and spreading her wings to beat once, twice, three times, and rise into the air.

You soared higher and higher; darkness swallowing you as it had your brother, letting the storm encompass you whole. When Kasta was level, your hands let go of the saddle to sit back and choke on your sobs, arms going lax as your strength to hold yourself together gave way. And through the storm, what better way to release your rage?

You let your tears mix with the water splattering on your face. For the thunder to drown your anguished screams. For the lightning to flash away the images you unintentionally conjured when you thought of your husband and brother.

You let the vapid, sideways rain pound over you. For the wind to howl and create a legion of goose flesh to form over your shivering form; though you did not feel it. For the storm to become one with you.

Your pain was tangible. Your anguish known.

You flew for miles, unsure where you were heading because the storm demanded the forefront of your attention - but you weren't willing to give it. Kasta chose to fly aimlessly as she just wanted to stretch out, and for a moment, you considered just flying across the Narrow Sea. Head for Essos, where you would escape this petty stupidity. Where you would not have to choose between your beloved mother and adoring husband.

Between Green and Black.

Between rightful succession, and well... Tradition. You hated the thoughts when they registered in your head, but the truth of the matter is that after centuries of tradition as naming first-born males the heir, you were not stupid and understood your shit-stain-brother-by-law, Aegon, held a 'legitimate' claim now.

You were desperately confused, you had no honest idea what to do, and the further you flew in the storm, the more your exhaustion rose. As your dragon's pale green wings cut through the air and she took charge of your flight, you weighed the pro's and con's of each action.

If you stayed, you got Aemond - and that was enough of a pro on its own.

If you left, you'd be able to salvage whatever time you have with your brothers, Jace and Joffrey. Plus your step-sisters, Rhaena and Baela, along with half-siblings, Viserys II and Aegon III.

If you stayed, your dragon would be on the frontlines only due to her sheer size... And that sounded more like a con.

But! But! But! If you left, you knew the message you bore - that was sure to reach your mother's ears with or without you - would be reason enough for Rhaenyra to wage war. If you returned to your mother, you'd be thrown into her war, and with Kasta, who still grew in size and ferocity, who was to say you wouldn't be used on the frontlines there, too?

If you stayed, Aemond would always protect you. Not that you needed it but it was a comfort to know you'd not be alone.

You'd hopefully get to see your siblings all marry, too, if you went home.

Your child would know its father if you stayed.

You screamed into the night again.

Sobs ransacked your lungs, demanding oxygen be sucked in with a shuddering, stuttering inhale. You were restless and distraught, and even when time passed, the storm did not; nor did your heartbreak. But Kasta understood your pain, letting you sob into her hide as she flew you higher, higher, higher... Before breaking free of the storm to give you a view of the just rising sun.

You breathed in shock as you sat up off her shoulders. With your arms keeping you upright, you gazed with swollen red eyes to the beautiful sight before you; relishing in the swirls of colors that only brightened with each flap of Kasta's wings.

She hovered a moment to let you gaze at the clouds and rising sunlight, patting her shoulder as you praised in High Valyrian, "Good girl, my sweet Emerald. Good girl - thank you. Thank you," you whispered, hearing her purr as she beat her wings to keep her body suspended.

You took a sobering breath and sat up tall. With nobody around, you were left with only Kasta to speak to, and maybe, that'd be your saving grace in time. You spoke, "It is more than myself I need to consider. You are my priority," you smiled, stroking her neck, "but I also now have a baby growing in my womb, and I have to take them into consideration, too. Where we go, I have to think of you two the most - because I cannot let you suffer for human selfishness."

She gave a loud purr.

"Yet we have two options, my girl. We stay in King's Landing and we would fight with Aemond, only. We are loyal to him, not his usurping weasel of a brother."

She snorted, almost nodding her head. You saw her lips flutter and knew she bore her teeth in distrust of Aegon.

"If we return to Dragonstone, we are subservient to our Queen, my Mother, the rightful ruler and heir to the Iron Throne. Surely, with Daemon's influence, we would be expected to fight."

Saying it aloud again made you slump onto her shoulders, groaning, "Oh, Kasta, what the hell are we doing? We should just take our chances in Essos."

She huffed.

"No? Maybe Pentos?"

She growled.

"Then where should we go, pet? Where? Where you are safe and so is my baby?"

Kasta whined lightly, unsure of your decision either.

"I care little for my own safety, but you, my precious girl, are entirely dear to me and I will not risk you in open war. I could not ask that of you, you are not at fault for the deceit my people show. But we have to chose which side we are to take, love. Where I took vowels to be loyal to Aemond, we know Rhaenyra is right and true, but with Luke's death, she... She cannot be thinking levelly."

Kasta lowly whined in agreement, turning in a circle to keep her blood pumping before coming to another halt. You had a view to a sea of sun-soaked clouds, finding rolling hills of different colors; all painted on fluffy canvases.

"She'll need me now more than ever," you whispered. "She cannot do this alone, and... And the Greens have Vhagar. The Blacks have Meleys. Yet if I take a position, I will still have to fight the ones I love, the dragons you grew with."

But Kasta gave a small snarl.

"You know I mean Aemond," you chuckled lowly. "He's the best trained with a sword and rides the largest dragon... He'd be sent off to battle, and to meet him, I'd wager Daemon would not hesitate to send us with Melyes and Rhaenys. What would hurt more, Kasta? Fighting my step father and mother's cousin? Or fighting the man I was sworn to love and be loyal to before the Gods? Who sires my children? But... The man has killed my brother and I fear I'd be unable to forgive him. What do I do, Kasta?"

She whined again.

"I made vows to him," you whispered brokenly. "I do not think I can leave... Mother would surely use us to fight, but at least Aemond would protest Aegon's command, try to keep us safe..." Your tears streamed down your cheeks, making you nod, "All right, yeah, come now, my love, we need to go."

Kasta anticipated this and turned to dive back into the storm; your eyes closing from the whipping wind stinging your eyes as Kasta dove at an angle straight down. You held on tightly and trusted her, and when she leveled, you cracked your eyes open to see your dragon flapping her wings straight for the distant Red Keep.

"Mumma's sneaky girl, aren't you?" You chuckled at her, patting her neck with an affection hand. She gave a roar of announcement as she swiftly circled the Dragon Pit and descended; landing with a trembling thud before she was hurrying under cover from the still-raging storm. You held on until she came to a halt in the Caves; pausing to let you slide off your saddle. "Good girl," you praised, letting her forehead caress the scales of her cheek. "Good girl, thank you. Always my good girl, yes," she gave a small snort of contentment, almost leaning into you.

"Thank you for returning my wife safely, Kasta," Another voice purred in smooth High Valyrian, and you sighed when you recognized it instantly. It was a voice you longed to hear, but not yet - not so soon. You did not think he'd still be here at this hour.

"I've only just returned, Aemond, are you truly that dull or does the concept of time and space just not register in your head?" You leered to Aemond from over your shoulder.

"I needed to see you were safe with my own eye," he sighed, watching your dragon patter (read: took thundering steps) into her alcove for rest; leaving the two of you as alone as you could be.

"You see me now," you snipped. "Now leave me be."

"We should talk - "

"The only thing I've left to say is that I'm done," you nodded. "I'm not leaving you, don't bother even trying to lock up Kasta - she's been biting lately. But I can't stay with you anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"That I still need time and space to think about this, it's not a decision I can come to in a single evening," you sighed. "Look, I'll move out - "

"No, wait," Aemond stepped towards you but you held a hand.

"It's for the best," you backed off a step. "I can't live in our room anymore, not when you are everywhere. I'll suffocate."

"I'll move out."

"Do you not listen?" You groaned lightly. "You're all I see in that room, and I need time apart. I understand what happened with Vhagar, I do - and while I'm sorry you feel guilt over losing control, I still need you to have accountability for the actions taken tonight. You've started a war - both in life with my mother, and in my heart with my head."

Your words planted his feet as his stomach plunged; letting you slip past him only just - your ears catching his whisper, "Will you ever forgive me?"

You paused but did not look at him. "Time will tell," you alluded, unsure of what to tell him in truth. You left after that, the storm thick and making you stick to back allies of King's Landing to reach the Red Keep again. Seemingly out of respect, Aemond did not follow, and from your shared quarters, you made a beeline for the one thing you wanted. The rest of the room and all contents shared some kind of memory attached to your husband.

You only took an ornate jewelry box your mother had gifted you years ago and quickly fled the room in favor of locating Amira. From there, she helped you locate a new room, and together, you shoveled clothes into trucks, and with another maid, Clara, carried two full trunks between you three.

You lead, holding one handle, Amira in the middle, both hands holding an end of a trunk, and Clara at the rear; a single rucksack strung around yours and Clara's shoulders. You ignored the bewildered looks of others to quickly head for your new room, somewhere far from Aemond to avoid accidentally running into him.

Your two maidens helped you unload your trunks with two jugs of wine - the night long, and given your status, you could 'relieve' the two women of their daily chores. So, they spent the night with you, and you didn't dare open your mouth about what happened.

You told them you and Aemond had a terrible fight and you needed space to think. They understood and while you saw the way Clara wanted to push, Amira was sending her stern looks that silenced the younger girl. They did not linger after the sun broke the horizon, but Amira did return to bring you something for breakfast.

You didn't realize this would become your new normal.

Weeks upon weeks went by with Aemond keeping his distance and it drove you up the bloody wall. On one hand, you were frustrated because you were alone, but also angry, because he killed your brother. You craved his affection, his touch, but still felt repulsed by the sight of him. He liked to send you flowers; filling your room with sickly sweetness that made your anger almost solidify, but the reminder of the act of kindness went farther than you were willing to admit; and though you'd not admit it, each little card that came with the flowers were saved in a small, carved wooden box.

On the loneliest nights, you curled up in bed, caressed your still-growing bump, and reread his declarations of love and loyalty. His words that read how much he missed you, and prayed for you daily.

In order to maintain appearances to both his family and the public, you and Aemond attended official royal events together. However, the silence between you and Aemond echoed across any room; earning the attention of his family.

They were well aware by now of Luke's demise and could only assume you knew, as well; but nobody ever confronted you about it after Aemond threatened physical harm to any who dared. When Aegon threw Aemond a feast to celebrate his 'accomplishment', not even the arrogant boy-King questioned your notable absence. Especially after teasing he'd go collect you himself - and earned Aemond's venomous glare that rooted him in spot.

For weeks, you slept alone, mostly ate alone, couldn't bare to sit with Helaena and her children anymore. You were heartbroken and feeling sick from stress, isolating yourself in the hope of figuring out your emotions and next steps forward.

You tried to rationalize in your head that in times of war, casualties were inevitable; but you were frustrated because it was the first punch, and never knew where to place your emotions. Granted, you could've considered Aegon's coronation provocation towards war but your mother was trying to be calculated in her movements; almost now forced into the fray following the death of Lucerys.

Despite this understanding, nothing in your mind cleared.

Until enough was enough when the next storm struck the city. You flinched awake and felt your chest tighten with memories of your baby brother as the storm had tapped into your subconscious to make you dream of him. It felt more like a haunting now.

You were left alone to pace the cold, stone floors, the hearth stoked to life, flowers slowly drying from a vase on the spare table, but the thunder made you tremble and rub your palms together. Your mind did not stop, nor did the frantic, vapid beat of your heart; anxiety flaring with each flash of lightning.

You flinched when there was a pounding at your door. Not a knock, but four beats of a fist in rapid succession that nearly made the whole door shake off its hinges.

Gulping any nerves, you reached for the handle and opened it a crack; curious as to who would call upon you at this late hour. But what you saw surprised you, making you blink a few times. "You're soaked," You whispered, leaning on the door you held, taking note of the rain water dripping off Aemond's form.

"There were matters I had to attend to, so, I was outside for a time," he explained with a nervous nod. "I was just returning, and only wanted to come by and check on you..."

"Why?"

He shrugged some, "The storm, and because I love you. I didn't want you feeling so alone. I know you grow weary."

You nodded as another crack of thunder rumbled, making you ask softly, "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes, thank you," he whispered with a curt nod, watching you step away to push the door open and grant him passage into the smaller room. When he stepped over the threshold, you gulped nervously and shut the door securely. "You rearranged," he noted with a small chuckle. "Like you did in our room."

"I think I am nesting," you smiled, smoothing a hand around your swollen belly. "Times I am stressed, I can curl up in bed with a book."

He nodded, "Good."

The bookshelf was in a new place than the first, last, and only time he's seen your new room, and the bed was pushed into a corner where you had piled a mountain of pillows to create a literal nest. You watched him for a moment, offering, "Do you want to change? You might catch a cold in that."

He nodded, "Uh, yeah, yes, that would be much appreciated. Thank you, sweet girl, but I have clothes in, uh, our room..."

You smiled softly and went to the wardrobe to find him something new, warm, and suitable to change into. "I kept some of your clothes, they're comfortable to sleep in," you explained, slightly defending yourself as you didn't like feeling so vulnerable under his luminescent gaze. "What were your errands?" You wondered gently.

He sighed, "I had to visit the Storm Lands again, Aegon had a new message for Lord Borros."

"How fairs your intended?"

He laughed, "Oh, my beautiful girl, you still think that's happening?"

"Is it, Aemond?"

"Not in the slightest," he sighed, nodding with assurance when your eyes met his with skepticism. "I told Aegon now wasn't the time for strife between my wife and I, and I wasn't available to do his bidding nor make his alliances."

You considered his words, then asking, "Is there news?"

Aemond cleared his throat, nodding as you presented the clothing and sat it on the bed. Then, your hands took hold of his jerkin and started to undo the latches and laces - as if no time had passed. He sighed, "Your step-father claimed Harrenhal and the Lady Arryn and Lords Manderly, Sunderland, and Stark, maybe another, have declared for your mother's side."

You nodded, peeling the wet leather from his form. "And your news to Storm's End?"

"To break the engagement in person, but Borros did not seem too disheartened."

"You think he would abandon the cause?"

"No," he sighed. "He's smarter than that."

"Uneducated, though," you mused gently, peeling his tunic free from his damp chest. "Hang on," you paused, moving for the heath to pull off a towel from a drying rack. When you returned, you asked, "And how are you feeling now?"

"Exhausted," he whispered. "But I was worried about you, Princess, when I came home and saw the storm was here, too."

You nodded, "You do not need worry - "

"Of course I do," he snarled gently, "you are most precious to me, my love," he frowned as his tone tapered off, shaking his head. "'S been killing me trying to give you space."

"Thank you for it," you nodded, sweeping over his skin to dry it before handing him the thin, white tunic. "But um..." You paused with nervousness, nudging his booted foot with your bare one. "Take those off."

"What were you truly going to say?"

You rolled your eyes some, silently cursing him for knowing you so bloody well. "That I do not wish to be alone tonight... Maybe you'd like to stay?"

"You'd want me?"

"Of course," you nodded, gently unlacing his trousers and stepping away to let him change completely into drier pants. "I told you I didn't want to be alone."

"You've been so angry."

"With reason."

"I know," he nodded, eye tinging red from restrained emotion. "I'm so sorry - "

"For what this time?"

"All of it," he reached for you, changed finally. "But I swore you wouldn't be alone, and here, I just left you."

"I wanted to be alone," you reminded softly.

"Did not mean you should have been," he whispered, letting his forehead meet yours. He let out a sigh of relief, "Let me fix us."

"I think time apart has sickened my stomach... And your child misses the sound of your voice," you admitted. "I don't want to be without you anymore, but your brother oversteps himself."

"I know - "

"He threw you a feast for killing my brother," you reminded, stepping away. "He mocks my pain."

"I will have a word with him - and with everyone. You will not be caught between this war, you are my wife, and I will protect you against them all."

"I am only loyal to you," you sighed. "So, whatever you ask of me, I will do, but only that. I am not your brother's subject - "

"Hey," he quipped, slipping his hand over your mouth and giving a suspicious glance around the room. "I hear you, pet, I do, trust me, but the walls have ears now. Please..."

You sighed, rolling your eyes at him before opening your mouth and boldly licking his palm. He tasted like leather, and just like you wanted, he recoiled in shock from the feel of your tongue. "Wash your hands, husband," you chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Because you don't know where you've been, wife?" He teased, pulling a soft mug at his soiled hand before stepping away from you to head for the wash basin.

"I haven't really left this room, Aemond," you sighed.

"I know," he admitted, washing his hands and forearms, "I was worried about you isolating yourself but Amira kept saying you needed space to think."

"She's a good friend," you smiled gently, watching him. "Can we be done with this?"

He offered a look of shock, "What? With what, love?"

You sighed, quelling his worry by responding, "This fight? The distance between us? I don't... I don't want space anymore. I just want you, Aemond, I want my husband back."

His shoulders gently slumped with relief as he dried his hands. "Yes, good, we're done, it's at an end, my love. You have me, you always have - and always will."

"I'm still working on forgiving you but I think, all things considered, we can start... Moving on..."

He nodded, "Many are lost in war, but I am so sorry he was the first. And that it was by my hand."

"Thank you for saying that," you nodded at him, finding his accountability refreshing. "Come to bed, please?"

"In your nest?" He chuckled, letting your hand reach for his and lead him to the mattress.

"Yes, it's cozy," you defended. "And you made me sleep alone, so, I made do with what I had."

"Fight's over, love, that's all done now," he promised with a sigh, settling into your nest and readjusting a few times. "Hmm," he considered, glancing around the mountain of silks and fluff. "I don't think I hate it completely."

"Shhh," you hushed as you moved to curl up at his side. The hearth had died a bit in flame, but the warmth was enough that you only needed a thin sheet for comfort. You smiled when his hand laid to your belly, rubbing gently as if in fascination.

"Missed you so much, sweet girl," he whispered, kissing your forehead. You sighed against him, promising you missed him, too; then deflating into his chest as sleep tugged at your form. You still flinched into his embrace on a few particular hard claps of thunder rattling the walls and windows, but Aemond was there to soothe you back into gentle submission.

Yet, by morning, there was nothing but chaos.

"MY PRINCE!" Someone banged at the door, making you and your husband flinch awake. "PRINCESS!"

"The hell?" Aemond muttered through a haze of sleep, hand tightening on your waist.

"MY PRINCE! PLEASE! PRINCESS! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, PLEASE! MY LADY! LORD! LORD, PLEASE!"

"That's Mira," you realized, sitting up in shock. "Come in, come in!"

"Love," Aemond reprimanded, yanking the bedsheet over his bare hips after feigning being too hot in the night to spend it in your cunt with you still in your singlet.

The door barged open and Amira entered with a pant, "You both need to come quick!"

"What's happened? Are we under attack?" You worried.

"No, no, well, I-I don't - I don't know anymore," she panted, using her hands to reiterate her words. "Something has happened - "

"Tell us plainly," Aemond demanded.

"The Queen - y-your mother, s-s-someone broke in a-and bound her," Amira told you both with a tremble; making you grab Aemond's hand as if it would quell his growing temper. "Th-They killed the hand maiden and your sister arrived with all three of her children, like they do every night - t-to say goodnight to their grandmother."

"No," you whispered.

"The door was barred," Amira's tears started, "an-and the Queen was made to choose which of her sons would die."

"For the love of the Gods," Aemond cursed, looking down as if to prepare himself.

Amira gulped.

"Tell us," you encouraged.

"S-She named Maelor... But they killed Jaehaerys instead." You felt the tears swell. "They took his head, and fled the Keep," she whispered.

"What?" You gasped.

"But, wait, wait," she saw both your temper and Aemond's flare when his head lifted to burn her with his glare. The missing eyepatch allowed his sapphire to leave her unnerved. "One of the assassins was caught. He's been brought to the dungeons."

"The dungeons?" Aemond nodded.

"Yes, my Prince. Your brother is being informed and anticipated he'll call for you," she explained. "Your mother is being seen to, she is well-enough, and the Lady Helaena was not harmed... But she is beside herself with grief."

"Rightfully," you nodded, watching Amira sniffle.

"I'll go, but perhaps, Lady, you should remain... You do not need to bear witness to the King's justice," she spoke softly.

"I will go with my husband, thank you, Amira," you nodded at her, letting her turn for the door in haste. "Aemond?" You turned to him, reaching for his cheek to direct his attention to you. "Hey, hey, stay in the present with me; take me through your thoughts..."

He shook his head, leaning in to sigh when his head rested in the crook of your neck. "I do not even know," he admitted. "What am I supposed to do right now? What am I to think? What - What if they came for us? Came for you?" His hand secured to your belly. "This is retribution for Lucerys, this is my fault - my doing. They could've come for you, my love - "

"They did not because they know I am under your protection, my sweet love," you muttered, caressing the back of his head. "Nobody would be so foolish."

"Then perhaps I need to keep you close," he frowned, lifting his gaze. "So that I can protect you at all times." You nodded, letting his hand caress your belly in soothing circles. "I-I am ashamed to admit I cannot stop thinking about it. If they came for you."

"Aemond," your hand reached for his jaw; fingers fitting between his ear to thread slightly into his hair. "Do not burden yourself with the unknown, please. The hypothetical, it-it will not serve us now. When we're alone, yes, my love, please, grieve and be upset and tell me what thoughts plague your mind. But we need to hit pause because there's business to attend right now."

He sniffled and nodded some. "You're right. Come with me, please."

You agreed, and together, got from the bed. After changing from your singlet, you both hustled through the castle to make for the dungeons - your husband armed with his long sword and two different daggers. Your hand was tight in his, trying to help keep him level headed as you met Aegon and witnessed the murderer, 'Blood', be tortured for answers.

He admitted to a partner, a rat-catcher named Cheese, and that he was on his way to collect payment for the Prince's death from your step-father, Daemon. Aemond's arm constricted around you when he heard, trying to prevent any residual anger be directed your way.

Yet, it never came.

Blood confessed to being told this ransom by some 'whore', nicknamed Misery - and you stilled at the familiar name. Only Aemond noted it, and he would question you later - where you'd admit to knowing the name of the White Worm because she was Daemon's paramour - before focusing on the interrogation.

The rest was a frenzy.

Over a two week period, Aegon hung every single rat-catcher in the city after being unsuccessful in locating this 'Cheese' character. In truth, they could not find your step-father's woman, either, but finding Cheese was much more important - since he fucking murdered the Prince. To be sure, all were executed and Aegon had their heads mounted on spikes around the Red Keep's fortress walls, and the Hand, Otto, had cats shipped into the Keep to take over the catcher's old job.

You and Aemond sought comfort in each other's arms the night you found out the truth of his sister's state. She had locked herself away and threw herself into a deep depression, unable to care for her children, and absolutely refusing to care for Maelor - after she named him to die. In response, Aegon had taken up residence in another room and gave his mother, Alicent, care of the baby after deeming his sister-wife unfit.

It made the both of you outrageously grateful for one another and all feelings of hardship truly evaporated. He held you close, letting his fingers run over your flesh; relishing in the warm feel of your curves. He liked kissing your forehead, holding your baby bump, letting calloused fingertips trace the contours of your face.

Yet the worst was yet to come.

The blows kept coming.

Aegon had seemingly lost the support of the mainland, the Riverlands, and left him in a drunken despair following the murder of his son. He grew tired of waiting and denounced his grandsire, Otto Hightower, as Hand before anointing Ser Criston Cole.

You and Aemond had shared looks of mistrust when the ceremony occurred to announce the change of position - both feeling as if Aemond was being cheated out of a natural position.

Yet, he did not voice anything and did as he was bid.

He did not let you on the frontlines despite his brother's nagging and pushing for such. Aemond worried for the babe in your womb and refused his brother every time - telling him to condemn both you and he as a traitor for it, then.

Aegon never followed through and actually left you be. Yet, as if in retaliation, he sent Aemond on constant errands and missions.

One day, when your husband returned victorious from his latest mission with his brother, who you could not see, because Ameond was rushing for you waiting at the gates of the Keep, and seized hold of your hips. "Come with me," he ushered, trying to lead you away.

"What's wrong?" You worried, hearing the crowds gather in the city streets. "Aemond? 'S goin' on, love?"

He sighed, and then you saw it over his shoulder. "Oh, Gods, no, no, no, no, no," you whispered, a large wagon carrying the head of the Red Queen, Meleys, who was your Grandmother's dragon. "What happened?" You rounded on Aemond. "Tell me what happened!"

"It was a fair fight," he assured softly, avoiding your gaze. "But..."

"Please, just tell me," you whispered, one hand to your lower belly as if to support the babe growing in your womb.

"Meleys perished and her head was brought back to encourage the commonfolk. Sunfyre was severely wounded and had to be left behind in Rook's Rest, and Aegon is gravely wounded, he'll be seen by the Maester's, and..."

"Please."

"Your Grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, did not survive. Or, so we think. There was a body too charred to identify found with the Red Queen."

"Gods," you sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist to rest on his chest. You whispered sadly, "It just follows us now, doesn't it? Everywhere we look..."

"What does?"

"Death."

He frowned and leaned down to kiss your head, giving a tight squeeze. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to you.

But the blows didn't stop.

Rumor reached the Keep of your brother, Prince Jacerys, collecting Targaryen bastards - offering a knighthood to those who could conquer any of the six, riderless dragons left on Dragonstone. Apparently, many tired, many failed, and only four were conquered - including King Jaehaerys' dragon, Vermithor.

The Greens were vastly outmatched.

You grew nervous and Aemond often spent his nights mindlessly tracing up and down your spine to assure you he was still there. He was still alive. He was still with you.

The blows kept coming.

Your two half-brothers, Viserys II and Aegon the Younger, were being transferred across the sea when the Green's navy found them. No ships were left untouched and rumor had it, only Aegon III survived - clinging to the neck of his injured dragon. However, there was no way of confirming if he ever washed ashore or not, so, the idea of him being lost to the sea sank your stomach to new depths.

Over the Gullet of Blackwater Bay, your brother, Jace, had apparently flown too close to the water's surface when he descended to avenge his half-brothers. He leapt from Vermax' back as the dragon crashed and died in the accident, leaving the Green's navy defenses to take aim and shoot the Prince to the death.

He was never pulled from the waters. Again, another brother with no body to mourn or burn.

However, the men Otto recruited from the Stepstones made landfall and sacked Spicetown before laying siege to High Tide. Apparently, they burnt the whole of it, and all of your Grandfather, Corlys', treasures were lost. In addition, a third of his fleet was set ablaze - and you felt guilt for the small relief you felt.

Maybe the end of the war was soon upon you.

By a stroke of nature, you went into labor following news of your brother's demise. It was the smallest semblance of happiness the Greens could find, and they paced at your door; curious for the new addition to the family. Husbands weren't usually allowed in the birthing chambers but Aemond left no choice; holding your hand through it all and using a cloth to dab sweat from your forehead and brow. He paced with you, sat behind you when you needed to squat, did not let anyone touch you when you did not wish to be touched.

He was encouraging, soft, loving, and mostly, worried. The labors of birth was not for the weak of heart, and Aemond had to remind himself several times to be strong for you.

A full fucking day and a half in labor, and you and Aemond were then laid in bed holding a pair of twins. A boy, who looked just as his father does, who his mother named Olyver, and a little girl, who liked to wriggle around in her father's arms, who he named Brinna.

"You did so good, my love, so good," Aemond whispered from beside you, supporting your weight on his shoulder and weight of his newborn daughter in his arms. "Look at them. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Mhm," you assured softly.

His mother and brother visited to offer good tidings, leaving both of you surprised by Aegon's presence. Helaena never showed. But Otto did, offering you both congratulations.

Aemond was awe-struck, holding his children carefully; thanking you repeatedly for giving him the gift of fatherhood. They were gorgeous babes with stark white hair and bright purple eyes that slowly darkened with the passing weeks.

Aemond was obsessed. He liked their cribs at the base of your bed - in case they needed anything - and was always first to hop up to offer them care or comfort. Except when they were hungry, then he had to wake you, but he liked sitting behind you as you nursed the twins one at a time, on different breasts.

He couldn't stop showering you in compliments, truly in awe over what you both had created. He didn't like maids or midwives around the babies, often shooing them away in favor of either of you. Following the Blood and Cheese incident, he was overly protective and did not like your twins far from either of you. However, he was the first to call for aid when the long nights took a toll on you; leaving you to rest undisturbed while the babies slept in a separate room.

Any night your husband wasn't home, you were laid in bed with your twins with a wall of pillows around the edges. Aemond was named Protector of the Realm in his brother's absence - Aegon recovering from his severe broken bones and burns obtained at Rook's Rest. This only meant your husband was extremely busy as of late, but every night, no matter the time, he still came back to you.

You preferred knowing he was in meetings and strategy sessions rather than out on the frontlines with Vhagar - never allowing you to know of his safety. It was a gamble if he came home, which resulted in a passionate reunion, yes, but the anxiety you felt wasn't truly worth it. Now that he ruled in his brother's stead, you knew he'd come to bed eventually and started to settle down easier.

But then, when your children were under two, Aemond came to you with a proposition; late from a war strategy meeting, and slipping into bed behind you. He gave a tight squeeze to your frame, making you hum as you woke up fully from your sleepy daze.

"My love," you muttered, reaching up to caress the back of his neck as his lips pressed into your neck several times. You sighed in contentment, small smile on your lips.

"I need to ask you something important, sweet girl. Are you awake?"

"Mhm. What's wrong?" Then, you shot up to twist around and look at him with a crazed expression, "Is it the children!?"

"No, no," he soothed quickly, slowly coaxing you to lay down again. "C'mere, please," he sighed, slowly guiding you back into position. You tried to relax but his words made you suspicious; letting a hand lace with his that was resting on your stomach.

"What is it, love? Worrying me a bit," you sighed, feeling his breath fan over your neck and shoulder.

"Could you ride Kasta with us?" He sighed into your hair, being the big spoon.

"Where, my Prince?"

"To Harrenhal," he revealed quietly. "We mean to move on Daemon from the East and the Lannisters from the West, and in truth, I would hope he'd at least yield if he saw you. Or, more like, if he saw Kasta."

You nodded softly and turned in his arms so you could see his worried expression, reaching out to trace a fingertip over his face. You asked in a whisper, "You would spare him?"

"I have been the cause of enough of your grief, my love," he whispered, "I would try to undo some damage. Yes, I would take him alive, spare his life."

You sighed, "All right."

"We march at dawn after Cole and his men," he informed.

You sighed in agreement, "All right. Then, you're not fucking me, we're going to sleep if I'm to leave bed for long."

His grin was felt against your lips, and just as he planned, your resolve crumbled easily to let him flip you back around and slip inside you, but he still left time for you both to rest. What a gentleman. When you rose, both you and Aemond dressed for the excursion before kissing your children goodbye.

With your husband at your side, you both mounted your dragons solemnly before letting them take to the skies - the armies long-gone with Cole at the lead. They were easy to catch up with, and unknown to any of you, your step-father knew of the Green movement and flew Caraxes to King's Landing to meet your mother on Syrax.

None of you would know of the damage until it was too late.

After a 19-day march through mud and rain, that was met with only few battles from lesser Lords, you were surprised to find Harrenhal empty. Abandoned. There was only the weakened bodies of House Strong left, and all were taken prisoner. You eyed the castle wearily after Aemond had called you from the skies, feet crunching over charred dirt as you went.

"What's happened?" Aemond wondered gently, looking around with you in skepticism.

"He fled," you noted with suspicion, eyes meeting your husband's gaze as you slowly reached for his hand. "He wouldn't unless for something bigger, Aemond."

He nodded mutely as a grinning Cole approached you both, informing, "The whole place is abandoned. Word must've reached him of our numbers and he didn't want the fight. I imagine he's already back at Dragonstone."

You hummed, "Maybe, but it's not like Daemon to flee. We're talking about the same madman who took the Blood Stone Island singlehandedly - "

"Until he was overrun and your Grandsire rode to his aid," Cole cut off, sighing at you. "Daemon's past triumphs are of no use nor concern here. The truth is, he's fled the fortress and it's been reclaimed in the name of King Aegon."

"No, something's not right," you insisted, still glancing around as if to expect a message that would tell you where Daemon had gone. "He wouldn't just give up, not without the Queen's explicit instruction."

"Could his Queen have given another order?" Aemond wondered, and Cole had to physically restrain himself from snapping that Rhaenyra was the False Queen - and that Alicent and Helaena were the rightful leading Ladies of the Realm.

You paused to consider his question, muttering, "'S possible. But what was said? And when?" Your head shook, "No, something's not right. Can't you feel it?"

"They say this castle is haunted, Lady," Cole sighed.

"No, it goes beyond that - and fuck off, Cole, ghosts are real," you snipped, waving him off. "I don't think we should stay, I-I think we should return to the capital. Love?"

Before Aemond could answer, Cole did, "No, we need to hold the fort."

"With respect," you spat at Cole, "but this is not the easy win you think it is. How much would you wager there's been a spy?"

"Impossible - "

"Improbable," you corrected, "but very much possible."

This lead you three to make for one of the strategy rooms to argue, nobody truly knowing what the next course of action should be.

That was, until the late hours, when a bloodied and soot-covered messenger arrived. "Love," You gasped when the man burst into the room, grabbing onto Aemond in shock.

"Who are you?" Aemond demanded, hand to his longsword.

"I-I come - I come from the Keep, my Prince," the man panted. "I carry grave news."

"What's happened?" Cole demanded.

The message was simple: after they had all left, Rhaenyra and Daemon flew their dragons over the city and your Grandsire, Corlys, sailed into Blackwater Bay - seizing it. Any messenger was caught and arrested, anyone trying to send ravens, too. Yet, your messenger only managed to escape through the back tunnels under the Keep; but could not avoid the panic of the city.

"What of the King?" Aemond demanded.

Larys Strong had managed to smuggle Aegon, his daughter, Jaehaera, and Prince Maelor out of the city. He sent the children to different places, and did not say where Aegon was sent. You'd only learn later he was planted in Dragonstone.

"Where is Larys now?" Aemond muttered, being told the man simply disappeared and there was no further news of him.

"And the Queen?" Cole needed to know.

Alicent had been spared, but her father, Otto, your husband's grandsire, had been beheaded - and any remaining Greens surrendered to Rhaenyra. The city was sacked in less than a day.

"What of our children?" Aemond demanded with a tremor to his voice, his arm around you tightened with each passing second as you waited for an answer.

Allegedly, Alicent had been found holding your babies tightly to her chest, trying to protect them - begging they be spared when finally caught. But Rhaenyra thought the little girl looked oddly like Laena Velaryon, and upon closer inspection, discovered the twins to definitely be your children. They were spared and being taken care of by your mother, now; apparently being under strict watch.

"Oh, Gods," you breathed, starting to pace as panic cemented your stomach. "I-I should not have left. Oh, no, no, no, Gods, please, no, what have we done?"

"We don't know if your life would've been spared, my love," Aemond argued, turning to grab onto you and halt your pacing, "better you were here with us then left to the unknown. We will get our babies back, I swear to you."

"No, no, this is my mother we're talking about, Aemond," you snapped. "She would not harm me - "

"She would if she thought you Green," he pointed out. "I know you're worried, I am, too, but we will find our children soon. We are not abandoning them, I promise you."

"I just want our family together," you whispered tearfully, feeling stressed beyond belief. His arms encircled around you, letting you rest against his chest and almost forgetting the present company.

"My Prince?" Cole asked.

"We march for the capital," his head turned to look at Cole and nod, arms never loosening from around you. It was as if he thought his arms protected you, but it wasn't like you wanted to leave.

"No, no, we should join with Ormund Hightower and your brother, Prince Daeron!"

"Our family needs us," Aemond argued. "Our children, Cole! Where is your head, how can you think there's any other choice of action!?"

"The country needs us - and Daeron is your kin, so are the Hightowers!"

"Our children are in a sacked city, Cole! They're left with the enemy!"

"Which is truly unfortunate, but there is nothing - "

"LIKE HELL THERE ISN'T!" Aemond roared, letting go of you to stride up Cole in anger. "Our children will not be sacrificed! If it takes every life of every man at disposal, then that is what we will do!"

"You're all ignoring the biggest point," you snapped, reddened eyes glaring at the two men as the messenger was given leave to rest. "I told you Daemon did not simply leave - he was tipped off. There's a mole amongst us and someone is sharing secrets."

Aemond's head snapped to look at you, "I told you I did not trust him..."

"Who?" Cole asked.

"Ser Larys Strong," you sneered. "I do believe we need to have a conversation with Ser Simon Strong."

"For now, Lady, we should feast," Cole nodded. "It's been a long journey and the men are tired. Please, for tonight, allow us reprieve from turmoil."

Aemond nodded in agreement, and while you rested from pure exhaustion in a hard, cold bed, your husband took part in the night's festivities. You heard rumor later of him boasting how Daemon grew weary from their numbers and strength, but never once gave mention to the suspicions you shared.

[ part two ]

[ alternate ending one: Kin Slayer ]

[ series masterlist ]

[goatchulu]

jealous! lucifer x gender neutral! reader

Genre: fluff, ig? slight smut in the end.

Fandom: obey me!

Prompt: you find yourself in a fake relationship, and now you're introducing your "boyfriend" to the demom brothers. they don't take it so well, especially lucifer.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of harassment and stalking, they make out in the end, reader's gender is unmentioned for your imagination (and inclusion).

lucifer takes another swig of his whisky, a slight burning sensation lingering on his throat. no matter the amount of alcohol he consumed that night, he couldn't escape the bitter feeling that was left inside his chest.

the two of you have been hitting it off pretty well for the past few weeks, if he could say so himself. the harmless complimenting and the subtle glancing had turned into ardent flirting and shows of affection overtime. you two were finally going somewhere with your mutual pinning, or so he thought.

lucifer didn't think his small (not so small) crush on you would lead anywhere, really. nor did he think you would reciprocate his infatuation. but with all the friendly interactions you had of late, anyone would assume you two were together in a romantic light.

now look, lucifer prides himself as a person. he was assertive, efficient, productive, level-headed and the voice of reason when stress is most prominent. but as a lover? lucifer wasn't so sure. he assumed you'd like someone more jolly and eccentric like mammon or someone more confident and charismatic like asmodeus. he didn't expect for you to even spare him a second glance when it came to the dating game. lucifer was a busy man after all, and he wasn't the most expressive when it came to emotions; not very ideal for a lover.

but what lucifer also did not expect was for you to bring home a common demon boy and introduce him as your significant other.

let's just say that all the built up tension and courting were all ruined by a single dinner party.

you had gathered all the demon brothers earlier that morning, claiming you had an important announcement to make. you went as far as inviting diavolo and his loyal butler, barbatos, to spend the evening over for dinner. they thanked you for the invitation, but they unfortunately, could not attend because of their hectic schedules.

lucifer, on the other hand, was more than happy to accept your invitation (though he was quick to cover up the smile he held when you came up to him). seeing as he already lives under the same roof as you, anways. his happiness would soon be diminished and grinded into dirty, pathetic, dust, though.

lucifer's eyes narrow as mammon's loud laughter bounces off the walls of the dining room. lucienne, your "boyfriend", had managed to crack the demon up with one of his silly stories about a strange elderly wizard that sold expensive medication made out of fairy wings that turned out to just be bedazzled dragon fly wings. he worked wonders with the avatar of greed, considering the fact that just a moment ago, mammon was cursing in jealousy and resentment as you sat with your newly introduced boyfriend.

luficer would've told mammon to shut up, but he feared saying something far more vulgar out of anger. the previous tension was already eased into a more domesticated athmosphere (credits to lucienne's charm and humor), lucifer didn't want to ruin dinner for his brothers, and especially not for you.

i mean, lucifer felt betrayed, he felt used and-- and played. how could you lead him on like this? but deep inside, he knew there was something else. he felt disappointed, he felt defeated, he felt crushed, he wished he'd done something sooner before this lucienne stole you away from him.

but anyways, back to the dinner party.

"you seem unusually quiet, lucy." asmo teases from across lucifer's seat. the phrase seems to capture everyone's attention, all eyes now on the grimacing and glaring lucifer.

"asmo's right, you haven't uttered a word since lucienne arrived, lucifer. is something wrong?" you chime in, causing lucifer to perk up. the thought of you worrying about his state sent sparks into his heart, but they were quick to disappear when lucienne asks him the same question.

"i'm fine." he replies to your concern, unable to hide the venom that strung on to his words. this only causes asmodeus to snicker, and leviathan to sink deeper into his seat. everyone else watches in concern as lucifer downs another glass of demom whiskey. you're about to ask him again, unsure about his reply, but he stops you before you could even form a word.

"i said i'm fine."

the air is tense, until eventually, mammon gasps out of nowhere. "don't tell me! lucifer is jealous!!~" he repeats in a sing song manner, only irking lucifer even further. no one else speaks up, the whole situation akward enough.

after a while, though, lucienne speaks up. he gestures at mammon, especially. hoping to stop the demon from escalating the situation. "hey mammon, wanna hear about that one time i accidentally professed my love for my eight grade math teacher?" mammon only settles back into his seat, ready for another laughing fit. the avatar of pride snaps at this, slamming his fists down the table before abruptly excusing himself with a "i have something to do."

he spares you one last glance. his heart aching with guilt from the way you had lowered your head in shame. lucifer didn't want to make you feel like he owned you, or that you weren't allowed to be with someone else... he just, he has enough reason to justify his anger right now and he really wants to dwell in it. he turns his head away from you, biting his lip to contain the guilt and pain that was threatening to seep out. he doesn't turn to look back as he walks away from the dining room in long and rushed strides.

lucifer walks down the dark hallways of lamentation, familiar with every nook and cranny the mansion had. he sighs in relief as his palm reaches out for a familiar door. it creaks as lucifer walks into his room, sounding just as glum as lucifer is.

he heads straight to his paperwork, silently hoping that they would provide him some sort of comfort. he tries to focus on anything but the thought of you or your unavailability, his mind barely processing any of the words that were printed out in front of him. he groans, his hands pulling on his jet black hair in frustration.

i mean, he should've expected this. lucienne was everything lucifer thought you would love. funny outgoing, caring, expressive, charismatic, a smooth talker and he looked at you with utmost respect and admiration. i mean, who in their right mind would choose old-schooled lucifer over the flawless lucienne?

you deserve lucienne and although lucifer thinks that no one in the three realms could ever deserve to call you theirs, he still thinks that lucienne is more deserving of you than lucifer could ever be. what were you doing to the poor demon? he was never one to admit defeat like this, and he especially wasn't the type of person that'd lower themself like this.

his rollercoaster of thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. his ears already familiar with this particular knocking pattern. he can't help but straighten himself up, suddenly aware of the way his hair is all sprawled out. he slicks it down with saliva, muttering a small "enter" soon after he finshes checking on his appearance.

his mood lightens just a little bit at the sight of your face. as much as lucifer wants to hate you right now, he couldn't possibly feel that way towards you. never, not in a quadrillion light years.

you sit down in front of him, a genuine look of concern on your face. this makes lucifer visibly frown, catching you a bit off guard. "i wanted to talk to you about something, lucifer." his eyes grow curious and a bit hopeful, wishing it were about something that would distract him from the current situation or give him even the tiniest bit of closure.

"it's about lucienne." and once again, you manage to crush all his hope with only a few words. lucifer swears that if he hears that name one more time, he would personally shove your lovely boyfriend down the deepest depths of the underworld.

you watch his brows furrow and his fist tighten on his quill. lucifer looks far from happy to hear you talk about your significant other right now. "look, i know you'd rather not hear about lucienne again, but it's really really important and i want you to just hear me out. just this once, please?"

lucifer couldn't stand the pleading look you were giving him. your puppy eyes were a weapon that you used on him often, and they always managed to work. a tired sigh leaves his lips, if it meant getting it over with then he'd listen. "fine," he snaps, not before rubbing at his temple in obvious distress. he's said fine, but his body language told you otherwise.

"someone's kind of harassing lucienne at the moment. stalking him, giving him unwanted gifts and constantly professing their love for him when he's told them multiple times that it made him uncomfortable. they're an admirer of some sorts. i'm posing as lucienne's lover in hopes that they'd back off for a while, but i wanted to see if you and diavolo could do some actual help. it's worrisome, really. and it's been stressing lucienne out for the past couple of weeks. pretending to be his significant other is the most i can do for him, i hope you understand."

lucifer only freezes in shock, guilt washing over him all so suddenly. you call out for him, effectively snapping him out of his short daze. of course you'd offer to help lucienne out, you've always been a kind person. in lucifer's eyes, atleast. he coughs into his hand, avoiding eye contact with you as he degrades himself for his previous selfishness.

"of course, i'll do my best to make sure this harasser is punished. the school and i will ensure that lucienne won't be seeing this stalker anytime soon. just keep supporting him like this, i suppose. tell him he can sleep here for the night. thank you for informing me about this." you smile at lucifer's response, relief overwhelming your senses. if this meant that lucienne was finally going to be safe and unbothered, you were overjoyed.

you jump at lucifer, thanking him, all the while, squeezing the life out of him. his heart races impossibly fast at the gesture, and you can't help but smirk at the red that tainted his cheeks. "just so you know, i still like you. and only you, lucy."

his breath comes to a halt. he was no longer able to contain the butterflies that crowded his stomach; shock and well, pure bliss apparent on his face. "does this mean i can kiss you?"

"do anything as you please."

lucifer lunges at you. capturing your lips into a hungry and impatient kiss. his hands roam all over your torso, looking for anything he could hold onto. he settles for your waist and you drape your hands over his shoulders. heaven knows how long he's been waiting for this moment.

he manages to stumble through his room, leading you two to his bed. you part as he pushes you down to sit at the end of his king sized bed. he grins at the sight of you, disheveled and thirsty for more. the avatar of pride couldn't help but be excited for the faces you'll make in the unholy endeavors he's planning for you. he'll devour you, tear apart every innocent limb you have in your body. his imagination runs wild as he thinks of the many ways he'd mark you as his, exhibit you to the world and spread you wide open for his contenders to see. for them to know just how pathetic and needy lucifer could make you in an instant.

he bends down to kiss you again, pushing against your tounge with his own. he squeezes your thighs, digging his nails deep into the skin under the cloth still covering you. groans and grunts leave your lips as he countinues to caress your plush thighs.

as you two part, panting, a newfound possessiveness overtakes lucifer's eyes.

"you're mine."

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

You said that the bts honeymoon fase faded and you started to see that bts were not as perfect as you thought. Can I ask when it started to fade. Because I can relate to you, I think the honeymoon fase faded around the Dynamite area.

I also wonder if long term fans have also experienced this or not, because there aren't many people who talk about it. I feel like a lot of people have this wrapped up image of bts that doesn't fit the boy. The jk playboy or jin narcissist thing for exemple. I also don't like how the Fandom romanticizes certain flaws of the boys. When namjoon and tae couldn't cook for themselves in the soop some armies found it cute, me not so much.

Are there any instances where you feel the same?

I've discovered BTS around late May 2020 and the honeymoon period ended probably when Butter came out. At least that's when the process started. I remember being excited at first because I saw the concept teasers and I was intrigued. The connections to pop art, the 80s vibe, those photos that hinted to an end of messy party. It looked fun and I also thought that the song itself could be some sort of commentary on pop. Alas, it didn't happen and I learned my lesson. Don't make theories out of concept photos, nothing comes out in the final product. And then slowly I got back to other interests that I had on hold because I didn't feel the need to consume only BTS content. But to this day, I still keep up with it, daily, except I don't get some serotonin boost because of it. I miss the Run episodes. That's something that I always liked about BTS because as I said many times, they're also entertainers and they do a good job.

It's unfortunate that for some fans, the members are still stuck in these narrow boxes that are far from reality, at least the one we're able to see on screen. I've never romanticized any of them. But it's true that in the beginning, as in any relationship, we don't really see any flaws and all seems perfect. The stage that I find myself in right now is that of acknowledging that no one is perfect, that it's normal to see them as human beings that do and say stuff that I may not like, but I don't have any control over that and it's not my life. Why should I expect or think that 7 men, as nice as they appear to be, are somehow superior to any other person I met in my life, or artists that I like, or including myself? But these thoughts come with time, especially after as a fan, I managed to listen to their music, watch as much content as there is out there. Once that is settled in, then it's maybe ''easier'' to look at the big picture. Of course, this is just my perception of BTS, just as every single fan has their own. And it may come close to how they are as people, but we're all working here with a limited amount of information so our understanding of who they are is automatically flawed. Which to me, means that no one is better that someone else at knowing BTS. It's subjective and it's the basis of the parasocial relationship.

I think it's important to not romanticize any of them, especially when it reaches the point in which all of them are seen as cute cinnamon rolls who can do no harm. I'm aware that it can also be part of a joke, or how fans express their affection, but this should be only a small part. This type of mentality can be harmful if a fan gets angry the moment someone says something about a member that is not praise. I'm not talking here about malicious hate comments. You don't have to like everything. That idol is still a human who can make mistakes, or say something stupid, or act in a way that you don't agree with. And on top of that, you can still like him.

[inessencedevided]

The Untamed, episode 50 - watching notes (part 2)

I had to split these liveblogging notes into two posts because tumblr doesn’t allow for more then 10 pictures in one post and it couldn’t limit myyself on the screenshots ^^

Click here for part 1!

THE HUG!!!

People so rarely HUG on this show!!! 😭😭😭

So of course, wwx immediately jokes

Guys he's OKAY!

That's wwx, not exactly like from the start, he couldn't be, but that's HIM. He's healing!! 😭😭😭

A Yuan You Little Shit!!! 😂

Embarrassing your dad in front of your other dad

"And when a pretty lady passes by..." 😂

That's the face of a man who does NOT want his husband to hear such a thing :D

And look at lwj's face

That SMILE!!!

Don't tell me this isn't the little family he longed for all these years that wei Wuxian was dead! 😭😭😭

"I will still plant you in that pit. Understand?"

Oh, he's immediately in parent mode. I'm overflowing with emotions gute 😭😭😭

I only noticed this when o took the screenshot but IS HE TOUCHING THE HEADBAND? 😭

And more importantly, lan Sizhui is letting him!

THE LEG HUG 😭😭😭😭

THEY'RE A FAMILY YOU GUYS!!!

They're little and broken but good, yes, still good 😭😭😭😭

Wen Ning 💔😥

I'm not good with good byes 😭

He'll walk back to cloud recess with A Yuan! 😭😭😭

"For the rode ahead, let me be on my own."

I'm so proud of him!!!!

But still so so so sad

This feels like saying good bye to a friend guys

Or like the end of lotr when the fellowship parts. It's that sadness that settles in your stomach like a warm cup of tea. It's still sadness, but it's comforting

I'm trying to somehow give wird to what I'm feeling because it's just SO much

Lan Zhan ... what are you doing?

No

Don't let these two part as well

No

No

I can't deal with that

No

No

Holy shit that silence

That silence after their melody

Guys no

Okay, there's still 12 minutes kettle

Holy shit it's Gusu

They're both at Gusu

That gave me scare

THEIR SONG!!

I'm still crying ...

WHAT A SHOT!!

I haven't stopped crying in a bout 20 minutes btw

They got their wish guys! 😭😭😭

And... lwj is chief cultivator now? Did I catch that right?

These two!!!!!

WHAT AN ENDING!!!

I'm not used to getting these okay?? 😭😭

Whaaaaaaaat

Right!

There's still the nie Huaisang question 😳

I cried so much I nearly forgot

Wait ... that's... that's

Was he the one who sent the letter????

😱😱😱

SO IT WAS HIM????!!!!

The whole plot against jgy's plot was HIM???

IT WAS HIM!!!

I

Am

Floored

Wait what???

He even let Mo Xuanyu out, leading to wei Wuxian's resurrection?

I hadn't even made that connection!!!

WHAT KIMD OF CHARACTER OS THIS??

Like holy ... shit

They had me

Right until ... well really now, though I did suspect something for a second last episode

But still

They had me!

I did not see that coming!

😳

NO!!!

Can you not head different ways???😭😭😭

Can you not do this to me TWICE show??

Oh god, the way they look at each other

"I will wander the world and make it my own." Oh god guys. Guys. It FITS! The orphan, the outcast, the untamed. He's embracing it! 😭

And lan Wangji... he's chief cultivator. He can't always wander around ... 💔💔

Guys ...

"As long as the sea is bound to wash up on the sand, and stars are above you, we will meet again."

Fuck it, that deserved cursives

I. Cannot. Explain. To you what I'm feeling right now

This this right here

I love it and I hate it

This kind of bitter-sweet and gentle and peaceful "until we meet again"

It hits so so deep

That's... that's life

A thousand "until we meet again"s, even to those you love most

And there is nothing more tender than a promise, we will!

And it fits! As bitter-sweet as it is! It's also so them! They've always kept each other go when they needed it. Because that's what you do for those you love. You let them go. :')

Guys ... I'm overflowing with emotion

OH MY GOD WANGXIAN 😭😭😭

"Way ahead of you."

He was!!! He was!!!

Always one step ahead :')

It's a promise! All of this! This whole ending! It's bittersweet and a parting of the ways, but every sentence spoken is a promise: "We will find each other"!!!

Guys ...

I'm crying so hard

This hits something deep in me

I'm not going to tell you half my life's story but "let go of what you love" is something I learned early and this hits EXACTLY that spot

But ... in a good way 😅

I ...

Again the sound I made when the big orchestral wangxian part ended and it was just wei Wuxian's flute playing was not human

I watched it without typing from there, quite frankly, partly because I was hiccuping, trying to hold in sobs

So what I'm writing now is after I've finished watching.

I honestly can't explain to you what I'm feeling now. That last scene ...

The flute playing into the silence ... already did so much to me

And then

And then

And ...

I have no words

I still have tears in my eyes typing this, even though I took five minutes to get myself together

What I can't show in screenshot, but what took my breath away the most was the fact that Wei Wuxian stops playing just before the end of the song

It's the second to last note he's ending on and ....

The last note of Wangxian never gets played!!!

The song isn't over!

WANGXIAN isn't over! 😭😭😭

I ... I can't put into words what that did to me

I heard that last note that REALLY WASNT THE LAST NOTE and I gasped

Because it just klicked in that moment

Something in my head klicked that THIS WAS HOW THEY'RE TELLING US !!!

This song isn't over

This STORY, their story, isn't over!

And that silence right after the song didn't quite end it took my breath away

It's like the show is telling us!

The silence! THE SILENCE IS WHAT MATTERS!

Look at the space in between! Listen to the silence! Listen to that note that could not be played! This! This is what we're ending on! Listen!

I want to bow down to whover wrote and directed this show!

Guys! I don't know how the book ends (and don't tell me!!) But they took the fact that they can't make this romance "explicit" and made poetry instead ...

All of it ALL OF IT is a promise: "we will meet again", "way ahead of you", the song isn't over, "Wei Ying" ... it's all a promise

I'm speechless

I'm crying and I'm smiling and I can't stop!

And then, of course, that last shot

The one wwx is smiling at Lan Wangji outside the shot (because again, look at what we can not show you!)

I cannot even begin to describe how happy I am that his smiling face as he looks at lan Wangji is the last thing were seeing

I'm smiling. I have tears streaming down my face and I'm smiling. :')

And then EVEN THE THANK YOU NOTE AT THE END FITS THE THEME!!! 😭😭😭

"Thanks to the author, Mo Xiang Tong Chou for bringing the characters to life."

"May their wishes come true thereafter." 😭😭😭

"Until next time."

.

.

.

I ... I'm speechless

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose

Thank you thank you thank you guys! (I might be a tat more emotional than usual right now 😅) honestly, thank you for the great discussions and your insights and reading my rambling and especially thanks to those of you who got me to watch this show in the first place. I am so so so happy right now and so sad that it's over! 💙🖤

[youbloodymadgenius]

Over and over again (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: Please, read the warnings!

This is for @a-mess-of-fandoms ‘s 400 followers writing challenge. The prompt I chose was: But I choose you, even when you’re not an option. This is the first time I've ever taken part in a writing challenge. Thank you 🌺

Ivar is significantly older in this one, in his early to mid-40s probably. 

@inforapound: I know how much I owe you 💖

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff. Breast cancer implied. 

Words: 1669

The gif belongs to @honestsycrets​ 💜

Light kisses…

Light kisses on your inner thigh wake you from a deep sleep. Dizzy, it takes you a few seconds to realize what is going on.

"Ivar…", supressing a yawn, you stretch lazily, "… what… what are you…"

"Shh… Don't talk my love. Just let me take care of you…"  

Even if you wanted to, you don't have time to object as his hot breath against your clit and his fingers grazing your folds make you moan.

"Hmm... So good…"

You manage to say, arching your back while gripping the sheets, shivers running through your body. He stops for a moment. The darkness doesn't allow you to see his eyes or his features clearly, but you know that his piercing blues eyes are looking towards you and you're sure that a cocky grin stretches across his handsome face.

"That's all I want, my love… I want you to feel good…"

His husky voice sends chills down your spine and you can't help but giggle, feeling free and oblivious to everything from the numb pain in your upper body to the struggles in your mind.

"Shh… Keep quiet and don't move my love, I'm not finished yet."

Adding force to his soft yet bossy words, his left arm settles down over your belly, preventing you from moving, as he lowers his head once again. Immediately whining as his mouth finds your core, you gasp when his tongue licks your folds before twirling around your clit. There's no rush though, and no harshness. In the privacy of your shared bed, Ivar has always known how to be gentle when necessary, even if he prefers rough sex.

Still, since you've been discharged, gentleness has become his mantra, soft kisses on your cheek or in the crook of your neck, grazing fingers along your thighs, delicate words of love whispered in your ear… Sometimes you feel like a porcelain doll… The truth is that's probably what you are. And that is definitely what you need.

Gliding his fingers in and out from you, you can feel him smile against your thigh as he readjusts his position, faintly groaning. You should be worried about his comfort but you cannot, not when his fingers are working wonders.

"Ivar I'm…"

"Yes my love, let it go."  Curling his fingers inside you, increasing the pace of his tongue on your clit, your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, clenching and unclenching, endlessly pulling his braids. Wrapping your shaking thighs around his head, your hands scratching at his scalp, you can't breathe anymore, stars blowing up in your head, tears filling your eyes. You come hard, shuddering, moaning, crying his name. Hopelessly.

Still slightly dazed, you suddenly freeze, barely able to talk.

"Ivar, what are…" His hard cock presses against your leg, his hand runs across your belly, up to your chest as your voice breaks. "Stop Ivar, I..." Your hand grabbing his arm, you beg him, swallowing before you can go on. "Ivar, no. I… I cannot…"

Placing his hand just above your navel, which he knows is a safe place, he speaks softly.

"I'm not turning on the light, you know that?"

"Ivar," you respond in a shaky voice, almost pleading, "you don't need your eyes to feel it."

Or the lack of it.

Moving you to tears, the thought makes you feel sick and you hiccup before freeing yourself from his grasp. You don't want to reject him but there's nothing you can do. You cannot. You cannot. You cannot.

Rolling on your side, curling up on yourself, you let your dark thoughts get the better of you. Ivar deserves so much better. You're not worthy anymore. You’ve denied him for so long, barely allowing him to pleasure you. He never complains. You'd like to, no you'd love to make love to him, again.

But you cannot.

You cannot.

You cannot.

Sobbing, you drown in self-pity, hating yourself for what you put him through, and for what you've become.  

You can hear him shift in the bed and when he groans, you raise your head to look at him, sitting straight against the headboard.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" His soft voice stirs you up, making you cry even more.

Fighting the panic setting down in your heart and your head, you take a sharp breath. "You know what's wrong, Ivar. Look at you! Look at us! Look what I am doing to us! I know you, you're craving for more. And you have every right to. But I can't give you more and that's not fair. You deserve better, better than me. You deserve everything I can never offer you again. You deserve joy and happiness and bliss, and you deserve to cum and—"

His pointer finger grazing your lips, he shushes you tenderly. "It's not about me, my love. I'm fine. Don't worry, I promise I'm fine. For now, it's all about you. So please, talk to me and keep in mind that I love you, no matter what. You do know that, don't you?"

One of his hands strokes your hair and baby kisses brush your temple, overwhelmed with his love, you wish you could let go. But as much as you would like to, you cannot.  

"I do. But sometimes love is not enough, Ivar.” Catching a half-choked and obviously outraged cry, you feel the need to explain, your entire body shaking. "Love is not pleasure, Ivar. Love is not sex. I cannot pleasure you. I cannot have sex with you. I. Can. Not. Not anymore." Your uneven breathing gives away your distress and you try pointlessly to steady it, inhaling deeply.  "Look at me, Ivar. Look what I am. I'm a mess. This… this fucking disease stole my femininity, stole who I was. I'm no longer the woman you knew, Ivar. I cannot be this woman anymore. I don’t know where she is, and I don't even know if she will ever come back. I'm not sure. Now, I'm just an empty shell, Ivar. A scarred and broken empty shell."

Anger. That's what you expect. You know Ivar, and you know your words hurt him deeply. But you have to tell him. He must understand.

You cannot. You cannot.

But there's no outburst. No fist hitting the mattress. No tightening grip. There's nothing but silence for a few longue minutes. When he speaks again, it's with a quavering voice.

"What are you trying to tell me, Y/N? What does it mean, my love?" Fear and distress noticeable in his words, you know he doesn't really want to hear what you're going to say. But you have to. He must understand.

"You deserve a whole woman, Ivar, and not who I became; an ugly and misshapen body. I can't look at myself in the mirror anymore. How could you?  How could you even look at me? Ivar, I'm no longer an option."

Your words exhausted you, drawing on what little strength you had left.  Weeping and crying, you bury your head into your pillow, wishing you could disappear and forget.

Ivar has a different take on it.

"Come here, Y/N, please."

Whispering and softly grasping your arm, he pulls you close, resting your head on his chest. Too weak, you don't try to fight back, allowing him to do so. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he grabs your hand, putting it on his thigh.  

You may be numb, but you know he's doing it on purpose. His thigh. His right leg. The worst. Scarred, bony, bumpy. Gruesome. Disgusting. Useless. They're not your words, they are his.

"You have no right to talk about yourself like that, my love." His firm tone startles you. "And I don't intend to hear any more of this nonsense."

"Ivar…", muttering, you wish you could argue, convince him, but he's talking again before you can collect your thoughts.

"No, my love. Now, you're going to listen to me. I wasn't an option. I couldn't be an option. Because of my temper. Because of my legs. Shit Y/N, I couldn't even walk when we met. A fucking cripple stuck in a fucking wheelchair because of his fucking repulsive and stupid legs! That's all I was. Nonetheless, you chose me. You did choose me, Y/N.  I still can't understand why, but you did. And for that I'm grateful every day. You taught me love, Y/N. But most of all, you taught me to love myself."

Sighing, he gently kisses your forehead as you snuggle into his arms. "And that's exactly what I'm going to do now. I'm going to teach you to love yourself again, as much as I love you. Because you deserve it, and because you're everything I want. The disease took a lot from you, I'm aware of that. I won't deny it and I will be patient. I can wait, Y/N. I will wait. But fuck, my love, you're alive. And as far as we know, you're healthy. Your body is different, it's true. But it doesn't change anything for me. To me you're perfect the way you are. You're perfect how you are. You may not believe me but I choose you, even when you're not an option. Because I love everything about you. I love these tiny wrinkles in the corner of your eyes. I love your stubbornness and your bad faith. I love the way you laugh, even if it's too loud, I love that you always want to have the last say. I love your old stained, patched jumper you refuse to throw away, I love that you keep making sure I took my meds, even though sometimes it pisses me off.  I love all your flaws, I love all your scars… As you love mine… And above all, Y/N, I love you for who you are, and not for how you look. I love you very, very much, more than my own life. And that's why I choose you. And I'll choose you, over and over again."

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration​ @gearhead66​ @readsalot73​ @hecohansen31​ @saldelys​