#looks like I have an appointment with the tag replacer

[lndsismaeverything]

Lnds being a girl dad

Decided to write it down because I'm bored 🥱 here is my list of ideas that can use but just tag me on it so I can also enjoy the story

Xavier :

Calls your daughter lil princess

Has his hair color and your eyes. Inherited his cute lil pout

Xavier would totally get everything his lil princess wants. Want that new toy? Or how about the new plushie at the arcade machine? Sure, he'll get it right away

Xavier would love to read bed time stories to his daughter every night. Turning off the light while turning on the fairy lights acting as twinkling like stars in the night sky in your daughter room.

He definitely built a fort for her

Has two pets rabbits named Mr.Bunbun and Mrs.Bunbun ( they are married in your daughter mind )and one goldfish named Goldie had Goldie replace every month bec it keeps dying because of your clueless daughter that keep killing the fish

"Daddy why is Goldie floating? " your daughter said curiously " it's because he's taking his afternoon naps , and time for yours too " Xavier lifted his lil princess, carrying her too her room. After she's asleep Xavier calls you " we need another goldfish" he scratches his head " what is it this time?" You asked on there other line " she put a heater in the thank to keep him warm "you sigh, a hand on your hip as you told him frustrated " I told you not to give her a goldfish, poor fish "

He could tell his daughter the truth but couldn't stand to break her lil heart. And it isn't that he didn't keep an eye on her while she played with the fish it's just he took a 5 minutes nap , it wouldn't hurt right? Well that proofed him wrong...

Would like to bake cookies with her ( with you watching them of course )

Would miss his lil princess and you too during every mission . He can't wait to go home to his loving family

If you both are given a mission and both of u can't look after your daughter, she gladly stay with uncle Jeremiah. During the stay with her uncle she learns some gardening skills and is pretty good at taking care of plants

Xavier is of course jealous of Jeremiah, seeing his daughter talking about how the few days has been with her favorite uncle

" princess who do u like more your dad or your stupid uncle Jeremiah? " he said serious

" daddy don't say that about uncle Jeremiah! " good thing she has your personality always ready to defend the person she care and love. But Xavier couldn't help feel his heart ache but also feel proud, his lil princess stood up for his uncle but going against her dad

" uncle Jeremiah is a great uncle and smart tooo ! He's not stupid " she said to her dad " uncle Jeremiah is my favorite uncle! But you are my dad and the best daddy I could ask for "

You ended up ending the recording to Jeremiah to let him witness this scene too

Zayne

His office would be also his daughter office. After school your daughter would walk to Akso hospital since the kindergarten isn't far from the hospital just a 5min walk. But sometimes zayne would be free , so he would pick up his daughter if he didn't had a appointment at that time.

also would occasionally ( almost everytime he pick up his daughter ) bring your daughter to the bakery next a few buildings from the kindergarten .

Inherited his father's sweet tooth

Also hates the dentist

He will watch his daughter sit in his office doing her homework in her lil desk next to him. Also has a picture frame of the family photo that you didn't take a few days ago

The reason why zayne daughter would be at his work is because sometimes you can't pick up your daughter during the day is because your busy with mission and work.

After work you pick up your daughter at your husband work " bye daddy see you soon " she waved and your husband nodded " see you at home "

When zayne would have a surgery your daughter would patiently do her homework ,if she's done she would go around the hospital lobby and talk to the nurses and doctors

But sometimes zayne would come home late at night and your daughter would already be asleep by then. Also the reason why she likes going to her dad work place, is to spend time with him when at night she bearly see him or spend time with

The nurses and doctors love your cute lil daughter

" oh how she looks like Dr. Zayne so much "

" she also has Dr. Zayne calm expression "

Your daughter would have a personal ID badge hanging around her neck that you help her make . Just letting the other nurses and doctors know that she Dr.zayne daughter and not a lost kid

Zayne would double check himself if he has any blood on himself or the smell of blood on him before going to see his daughter after the surgery

Zayne can't help it if his daughter ask for another piece of his macarons " ok, you can have another one but just dont tell your mom. You can it have a maximum of 3 per day and you already have 5 "

"but daddy the same goes for you too and your already have 6 !" Your husband chuckled "alright this will be our lil secret"

" what little secrets ?" You lean against the doorframe , folding your arms as you watch both of them eating, almost finishing dozen macarons

Girl dad zayne would deny that he always saying yes to his daughter " oh really? What about last week Saturday? U said no more sugar but you bought her a snow cone" you tease your husband

" daddy can I have that snow cone? It's a double scoop and it looks like a snowman ! And best of all I can share with you ! "

" at least she has a good reason " your husband replied pushing his glasses to the brim of is node" oh just admit it Dr.zayne ~ "he smile and looked at your sleeping daughter on his office couch

Rafayell

Would spoil his lil sea guppy rotten

" daddy can I have a pony? " already bought one a few seconds ago when he say her drawing a pony. Bought a pony the same as the drawing

Want some plushies? No worries he called Thomas to get her the most cutest plushy and limited to edition

But your daughter love the plushies her had won for her at the arcade especially the pufferfish and the birb

Would teach your daughter about lemurians language. Also tell her stories about the lemurians

" daddy do you think I can turn my legs into a lemurian fish tailtoo? " her eyes sparked looking at her dad

" of course you can. You are half lemurian and human after all " rafayell ruffled her hair

The day she transformed into a lamurian in the bathtub is the day rafayell cheered for her because he didn't know if she could actually turn her legs into a fish tail

Would take her to the beach so she can swim in the ocean and get used to the salty waters . But also for some family fun time

You joined them watching how rafayell teach your daughter to swim in her new found form. You don't have a fish tail but you can still breath under water because of the sea god. It was fun watching your daughter struggle a bit

" hold my hand it be easier for your to balance yourself " your husband hold your daughter hand preventting from her turning upside down

" ugh, daddy this is worst then learning how to ride a bike! " your daughter wine, you couldn't help but laugh at them

Rafayell would bring your daughter to the art exhibit .

Also have a painting named after her and inspired by her . But that isn't for sale that's for the living room at home

Your daughter has a lot of dresses like a lot and same for shoes and jewelry. Rafayell like to dress his daughter up

First class trips with her daddy

Rafayell would definitely ride his sports car to pick her up at kindergarten.

" now wheres my little guppy? " he said standing at the door from the class she's in " daddy ! "

Sylus

Would let your daughter go on busssnins meeting with him because she asked him. At first he said no because it's a dangerous mission . But your daughter is cunning which she got from you of course " but I have daddy to protect me there, he's the strongest and he's the best so nothing will happen to me " that boosted his ego

You where furious when you found out that your husband took your daughter to a dangerous meeting that ended blowing up the whole building " but sweetie, it's nothing I can't handle, she save and onharmed "

" you let her hold a gun."

" that's because she hated the merchant " sylus said confidently

Looks like onychinus had a new leader soon after her dad step down

Would let her dress Mephisto up

Sylus would teach your daughter some boxing moves

Would try to fit all of you guys in his motorcycle , your daughter in front , placing her hand on the handle while your husband hand on top of hers and you always being sylus backpack

Would have customized helmets with your names on it

Sylus would let her daughter play with his hair and stick some stickers on him and if he feels generous ( which he is toward you and your daughter ) he'll even let your daughter put make up on him

Luke and Kieran would be the best uncles . Would like to join her uncles with pranks

Love doing karaoke with her dad .both can't sing well and are death ears

Sylus would buy the whole arcade just for her daughter

Plays kitty cards with your daughter and always lose on purpose

Sylus is definitely the type to give anything her daughter fancies. She looked firearm for 5 second? Is already here with her name on it of course with no bullets . Or else he wouldn't have hear the end of it from you

Would definitely sign a no boyfriend till your married

Like and karien are your daughter personal bodyguards

End up hitting the post button while middle way writing 😅sorry for grammar mistakes and words.

Would prepare a fancy ball for her birthday

Would play the piano for her also teaching her some keys

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Right (5)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!targ/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For all previous chapters, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. The Faith of the Seven works a little differently here, and they never fully accepted brother-sister marriages. Trust the process.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 8 000+

- Previous part: 4

- Next part: 6

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The morning light filtered through the tall windows of the Red Keep, as Rhaenyra walked the familiar corridors, her steps light and purposeful. The castle was already bustling with the day’s activities, courtiers and servants moving through the halls, each engaged in their own tasks. But despite the steady hum of the Keep, Rhaenyra felt a sense of calm as she made her way toward the Great Hall, her newly appointed protector, Ser Criston Cole, trailing a few steps behind her.

Ser Criston’s presence was still new, but it was a welcome one. There was a quiet confidence about him, a sense of reliability that Rhaenyra appreciated. She had chosen him herself, after all, and she felt a certain pride in that decision. The Kingsguard had always been composed of men of noble birth, but Ser Criston was different—he was a man who had proven himself in battle, a man who understood the realities of war and loyalty.

As they walked, Rhaenyra was lost in thought, her mind occupied with the matters she was expected to attend to that day. But her thoughts were interrupted when she caught sight of a familiar figure coming down the hall toward her, his presence instantly commanding attention. It was you, her brother, and the sight of you brought an immediate smile to her face.

"Brother!" Rhaenyra called out, her voice bright with warmth as she quickened her pace to meet you.

You smiled as you approached, your demeanor relaxed but with that ever-present air of responsibility that seemed to follow you everywhere. You were on your way to the training yard, where your presence was often required, but the sight of your sister brought a welcome distraction.

"Rhaenyra," you greeted her warmly, stopping in your tracks as she came to stand before you. "I see you’re off to attend to courtly matters. Hopefully nothing too tedious?"

Rhaenyra chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I hope not, though you know how these things can be. What about you? Off to the training yard to beat sense into some poor squire?"

"Something like that," you replied with a grin. "But I couldn’t pass by without saying hello."

As you exchanged pleasantries, your gaze shifted to the man standing just behind your sister. Ser Criston Cole stood at attention, his armor polished and gleaming, the white cloak of the Kingsguard draped over his shoulders. Your expression brightened with recognition.

"Ser Criston," you greeted, nodding in acknowledgment. "I see you’ve traded your old armor for the white cloak of the Kingsguard. It suits you."

Ser Criston inclined his head respectfully. "Your Grace," he said, his voice steady. "Thank you. It is an honor to serve."

You nodded, clearly pleased. "You served well under my command, Ser Criston. I haven’t forgotten the skirmish we had on the border near Yronwood. You fought with courage that day, held the line when others might have faltered."

A flicker of surprise crossed Ser Criston’s face, quickly replaced by a look of quiet pride. "Thank you, Your Grace. I’m honored that you remember."

With a final nod, you turned your attention back to your sister, your smile warm and genuine. "Take care, Rhaenyra. I’ll see you at the council later?"

Rhaenyra nodded, her smile lingering. "Of course, Brother. I’ll be there."

With that, you continued down the hall, your guards falling in step behind you. Rhaenyra watched you go, a small smile still playing on her lips. There was something comforting about your presence, a sense of stability that she had always relied on.

As you disappeared around the corner, Ser Criston spoke, his tone thoughtful. "I must admit, Princess, I’m surprised the prince remembered me at all. I was just a foot soldier in that battle, after all."

Rhaenyra turned to face him, her expression soft with understanding. "My brother remembers everyone who served under him, Ser Criston. Whether they’re lords or common soldiers, it doesn’t matter. He values loyalty and bravery above all else."

Ser Criston nodded, though his expression remained contemplative. "It’s just that… it’s one thing to remember the sons of important lords or famous commanders. But for him to recall a mere foot soldier like myself… it means a great deal."

Rhaenyra smiled, her admiration for you evident in her eyes. "That’s who my brother is, Ser Criston. He doesn’t see people as just titles or ranks. To him, every man who fights for his family and his realm is worthy of respect."

Ser Criston’s gaze shifted downward, his thoughts clearly turning inward. He had seen many lords and commanders throughout his years of service, but few had ever treated him with the kind of respect and recognition that you had just shown. It was a humbling experience, and it only solidified his resolve to serve the Targaryen family with all the honor he could muster.

Rhaenyra noticed the introspective look on Ser Criston’s face and decided to lighten the mood. "Come now, Ser Criston," she said, her tone playful. "Let’s not dwell on the past too much. We have matters to attend to, and I’m sure there will be plenty of time for reflection later."

Ser Criston looked up, a faint smile crossing his lips. "Of course, Princess. Lead the way."

The training yard of the Red Keep was alive with the sounds of clashing swords and the grunts of exertion as new recruits tested their mettle against seasoned trainers. You stood at the edge of the yard, your arms crossed over your chest as you observed the proceedings with a critical eye. The morning sun was climbing higher in the sky, but you were focused on the work at hand.

The recruits were a mix of eager young men and more experienced soldiers looking to hone their skills further. As the prince, you had taken it upon yourself to oversee their training whenever you could, ensuring that the men who served your house were of the highest caliber. You had been through enough battles to know that preparation was everything, and you took your responsibility seriously.

You watched as one of the trainers—a burly man with a weathered face and a scar running down his cheek—barked orders at a pair of recruits who were sparring with wooden swords. The younger of the two was struggling to keep up, his movements clumsy and unsure. You frowned slightly, making a mental note to spend some time with him later, to help him refine his technique.

As you continued to observe, your thoughts briefly drifted to the conversation you’d had with Daemon the night before. His words about taking control of your own fate had resonated with you, and though you had pushed them to the back of your mind to focus on the day’s duties, they lingered like a shadow, waiting to be addressed.

Meanwhile, not far from the training yard, Alicent Hightower walked alongside her brother Gwayne, the two of them making their way toward the gates of the Red Keep. Gwayne was set to return to Oldtown, and Alicent had insisted on seeing him off, a quiet farewell before he departed.

As they walked, Alicent’s eyes kept drifting to the side, stealing quick glances at you as you oversaw the training. The distance between you and her was enough that you likely didn’t notice, but Gwayne certainly did. He had always been protective of his sister, and he was keenly aware of the pressure their father placed on her to secure the favor of the Targaryen prince.

Gwayne’s gaze flicked between his sister and you, his expression growing thoughtful. After a moment, he cleared his throat, drawing Alicent’s attention back to him. "Alicent," he began, his tone carefully neutral, "is this something Father wants… or something you want?"

Alicent felt a flush of warmth rise to her cheeks, the question catching her off guard. She had known Gwayne would notice, but she hadn’t expected him to be so direct. She hesitated, searching for the right words, but the truth was more complicated than she wanted to admit.

"It’s… both," she finally admitted, her voice soft. "Father has his plans, and I understand what’s expected of me. But it’s also something I feel I have to do. For our family."

Gwayne sighed, his expression tightening with concern. "Alicent, you know how these things can go. Court life is dangerous, and playing with the affections of a prince—especially one like Y/N—is no small matter. You need to be careful."

Alicent looked down, her hands clasped in front of her as they walked. "I know, Gwayne. But what choice do I have? Father has made it clear what he expects, and if I don’t at least try…"

Gwayne stopped, turning to face her fully. "You’re more than just a pawn in Father’s game, Alicent. Don’t lose sight of that. The prince may be noble, but he’s also burdened by his own duties and expectations. If you get too close… if things don’t go as Father hopes…"

Alicent met her brother’s gaze, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "I understand the risks, Gwayne. But I have to do what I can for our family. It’s what’s expected of me."

Gwayne’s expression softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze her shoulder. "Just promise me you’ll be careful, Alicent. Don’t let Father’s ambitions blind you to your own happiness."

Alicent nodded, offering him a small, strained smile. "I promise."

With that, they continued their walk to the gates, Gwayne’s concern lingering in the air between them. Alicent’s thoughts were a jumble of uncertainty and duty as she glanced back toward the training yard one last time before they reached the gates. You were still there, focused on your responsibilities, seemingly unaware of the silent turmoil playing out in the hearts of those around you.

As Gwayne mounted his horse and prepared to depart, he looked down at his sister with a final, reassuring smile. "Take care of yourself, Alicent. I’ll see you soon."

Alicent nodded, watching as he rode away, the weight of his words and the pressure of her father’s expectations heavy on her shoulders.

The air in your chambers was stifling, despite the late afternoon breeze drifting in through the open window. You had been pacing for what felt like hours, your mind restless and unsettled. The allure of flight was strong, and the thought of taking to the skies on Silverwing, leaving behind the heavy stone walls of the Red Keep, was becoming harder to resist. You longed for the freedom that only a dragon’s wings could bring, the vast expanse of the sky where no courtly intrigue or whispered plots could reach you.

As you stood by the window, your gaze drifting out toward the horizon, the quiet knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. A moment later, Ser Harrold’s voice came through the heavy wooden door.

"Your Grace, Lady Alicent Hightower seeks an audience with you."

You turned, surprised by the announcement. Alicent had rarely sought you out on her own, and while you had nothing against her, you couldn’t shake the suspicion that her presence here was likely on her father’s orders rather than of her own accord.

"Let her in," you said, your voice calm but tinged with curiosity.

The door opened, and Alicent entered the room, her steps measured and graceful as always. She was dressed impeccably, as befitted a lady of her station, her hands clasped in front of her as she approached. Her expression was polite, though there was a flicker of something uncertain in her eyes as she met your gaze.

"Your Grace," she greeted you with a slight curtsy. "I hope I am not disturbing you."

You shook your head, though the truth was you had been yearning for solitude. Still, you motioned for her to come further into the room. "No disturbance at all, Lady Alicent," you replied, keeping your tone neutral. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Alicent hesitated for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. "I’ve come to relay a message on behalf of my father, the Hand of the King." Her voice was steady, though you detected the underlying sense of duty that drove her. "He wished to discuss the upcoming negotiations with the Free Cities and thought it would be prudent if you were present at the council. He believes your insight would be invaluable."

You nodded, unsurprised. Otto Hightower had always been a man of strategy, constantly maneuvering the pieces of the court to his advantage. It made sense that he would want you involved in such discussions, especially with the growing tensions beyond the Narrow Sea. But still, the thought of another meeting in the council chambers filled you with a sense of unease. The court had never felt like your place, not the way it did for your father or for men like Otto.

"I’ll attend," you said simply, your voice betraying little emotion. "Tell your father he needn’t worry."

Alicent inclined her head in acknowledgment, though she lingered for a moment longer, her eyes scanning your face before settling on your expression. You felt her gaze, and after a brief pause, she spoke again, this time more softly.

"You look… tired, Your Grace."

The comment caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. You studied her, trying to gauge her intentions. There was nothing malicious in her words, no hidden barbs. If anything, she seemed genuinely concerned.

You exhaled softly, the weight of the Red Keep’s walls pressing in on you once more. "The Red Keep has that effect on me," you admitted, your voice quieter now. "I’ve never been one for court life. My father thrives in it, but I… I feel trapped here. Agitated. Like I’m not meant for this."

Alicent listened intently, her hands still folded in front of her as she took a step closer. "I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Your Grace," she said gently. "The courtiers speak highly of you. They respect you, and many admire the way you carry yourself."

You smiled faintly, though there was a touch of weariness in the gesture. "Perhaps. But I feel more at ease with a sword in my hand than I ever do in the council chambers. Politics, alliances, all of it—it’s like fighting a battle without ever knowing who the real enemy is."

Alicent seemed to ponder your words for a moment before speaking again, her tone still measured. "That’s exactly why your presence is so important, Your Grace. You bring a sense of stability, a strength that many in the court lack. Your uncle Daemon, as skilled as he is, doesn’t have the same restraint. Your father relies on you more than you may realize."

You considered her words, but even as she spoke, you could feel the gulf between the two of you. Alicent was polite, always diplomatic in her conversations, but there was something distant about it. Her attempts to engage you, to compliment you, felt more like duty than genuine interest, much like this visit itself.

You nodded, acknowledging her point. "I understand the necessity of my role, Lady Alicent. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy it."

The conversation drifted into a more comfortable silence, though Alicent still seemed to linger, her eyes searching your face as if trying to find some way to connect. But despite her efforts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all part of her father’s plan, that she was here not because she wanted to be, but because it was expected of her.

Finally, sensing that her attempts were making little headway, Alicent straightened her posture slightly, preparing to take her leave. "Well, I won’t keep you any longer, Your Grace," she said, her tone still courteous but tinged with a hint of disappointment. "Thank you for your time."

You offered her a polite nod. "Thank you for relaying your father’s message, Lady Alicent. And for your… kind words."

Alicent gave you one last curtsy before turning to leave, her expression unreadable as she made her way toward the door. As she stepped out of the chamber, you found yourself alone once more, the brief interaction already fading from your mind.

For a moment, you stood there, gazing out of the window once again. The Red Keep felt more suffocating than ever, its walls closing in around you. The thought of escaping to the skies on Silverwing grew stronger, the urge to leave the court behind for a time nearly overwhelming.

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. Alicent had been polite, even complimentary, but there was no spark of connection, no real interest that went beyond the surface of courtly duty. She, like so many others, was part of the world that you struggled to navigate—a world where words were often more dangerous than swords, and where alliances were forged not in battle, but in whispered conversations behind closed doors.

As the door closed behind her, you felt a sense of relief but also a lingering sense of frustration. Whatever her intentions had been, the conversation had left you feeling more disconnected than before, a reminder that the court was not a place where you could truly be yourself.

The decision to leave for the Dragonpit was made the moment you closed the door behind Alicent. The walls of the Red Keep felt too close, the weight of your duty pressing down on your shoulders. The pull of Silverwing, the freedom of the skies, was irresistible. You were halfway to the door, ready to escape the stifling atmosphere of your chambers, when the sound of the door opening again stopped you in your tracks.

Rhaenyra entered, her eyes immediately locking onto you. She seemed amused, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she observed your state of readiness to flee.

"Planning a great escape, brother?" she asked, arching an eyebrow as she sauntered into the room and took a seat with casual grace.

You chuckled, leaning back against the edge of the table. "Maybe," you teased. "The Red Keep is starting to feel more like a cage with every passing day. I was just thinking about flying—Silverwing and I, far away from all this."

Rhaenyra smirked. "Always running off to your dragon. What would Father say?"

You shrugged, a grin tugging at your lips. "Father would say what he always does—something about duty, responsibility, and how I should learn to enjoy the trappings of court life."

Rhaenyra laughed softly but then noticed the contemplative look in your eyes. She leaned forward, curious. "What’s really bothering you? It’s not just court."

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to mention it. "Your friend Alicent was here, a few moments ago."

At that, Rhaenyra’s amusement vanished. Her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Alicent? What did she want?"

You raised an eyebrow at her sudden change in demeanor. "She came to deliver a message from her father, about a matter in the council. Something to do with the Free Cities."

Rhaenyra’s annoyance deepened, and she crossed her arms, clearly irritated. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Of course she did. She’s always doing her father’s bidding," she muttered, more to herself than to you. She shifted in her seat, a flicker of frustration crossing her features. "I’ll need to speak to her about this later."

You sensed that her frustration with Alicent ran deeper than just the message. It was something about the way she had reacted—how quickly her mood had soured at the mention of Alicent’s name. Still, you decided to change the subject.

"Speaking of Father," you began, leaning back slightly, "he’s been pushing me lately. Urging me to find a wife."

Rhaenyra’s expression changed in an instant. Where there had been annoyance moments ago, now there was something much sharper, more intense. Her lips parted slightly, and a flicker of unexpected anger flashed in her violet eyes.

"Father’s pressuring you to marry?" she asked, her voice low, almost as if the idea itself was a threat.

You noticed the shift in her tone, and you sighed inwardly, knowing this conversation was heading into dangerous waters. "Yes, he thinks it’s time I consider it. He’s worried about securing alliances through marriage, the usual concerns of the crown."

Rhaenyra stood up abruptly, her annoyance boiling over into outright protest. "But you can’t marry just anyone!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with something deeper than frustration.

You raised your hands in a placating gesture. "I know, Rhaenyra. But it’s not just me. Father is also feeling the pressure himself to remarry, and…" You paused, watching her closely. "He’s also being pushed to marry you off as well."

Her expression darkened further, and she took a step toward you, her fists clenched at her sides. "I don’t want to marry, Y/N. I have no desire to be some tool in a game of alliances. I belong to myself, not to some lord looking to secure power."

You could see the fire in her eyes, the fierce independence that had always defined her. But you also knew that your father’s worries weren’t so easily dismissed. "Rhaenyra, I understand. Believe me, I do. But Father fears what might happen if we don’t secure ourselves soon. The council’s already pressuring him, and he’s dreading having this conversation with you."

Her eyes flashed with defiance as she stepped closer, her voice rising slightly. "Then I’ll tell him myself. I don’t want to marry anyone, and I refuse to be forced into it."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, knowing this would not be an easy conversation. "Rhaenyra, I’m not calm about this either. But we both have duties—"

"How can you be so calm about it?" she interrupted, her voice sharp as she moved even closer, her face now only inches from yours. "I know you, Y/N. I know this isn’t what you want. But you’re letting them control you, push you toward something neither of us wants."

You hesitated, unsure how to respond, when her eyes locked onto yours, and her expression shifted. There was something there—something intense and unspoken, lingering between you both since that day in front of the Dragonpit. Rhaenyra’s voice lowered, becoming more intimate, more insistent.

"I know you felt something too, that day," she whispered, her breath warm against your skin. "After our flight, when we nearly…"

She trailed off, but the memory was crystal clear in both your minds. The closeness, the shared moment when the lines between you had blurred. Her words sent a jolt of emotion through you, something you had been trying to suppress for days.

"Rhaenyra," you said softly, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory, "it’s complicated."

But she didn’t relent. Her eyes never left yours as she pressed closer, her voice low and determined. "No, it isn’t. You felt it, just like I did."

Before you could respond, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours with a boldness that sent your heart racing. You felt her hesitation, but also the certainty behind her actions. When the kiss deepened, you didn’t pull away. The moment lingered, the connection between you undeniable, until finally, you both pulled back, breathless.

Rhaenyra’s eyes were filled with a mixture of relief and longing, and she spoke with quiet conviction. "You can tell Father to wed me to you. In the traditions of our house. It’s what we both want, isn’t it?"

You stared at her, torn between what you felt and what you knew was expected of you. "Rhaenyra," you began, your voice heavy with the weight of duty, "it’s not that simple."

She shook her head, determined. "It is simple. King Jaehaerys married his sister Alysanne, didn’t he? It’s in our blood, in our history."

You sighed again, stepping back slightly to clear your head. "Jaehaerys and Alysanne married in secret, and even then, it was a different time. The Faith might approve now, but Father—and the court—they’ll want to use us for alliances to strengthen the crown."

Rhaenyra’s expression hardened, her defiance unbroken. "Then let them think what they will. I don’t care what they want. I care about what we want."

You could feel the pull of her words, the temptation of a future free from the court’s manipulations, but you knew that your path, and hers, was far more complicated than either of you could admit in that moment.

For now, the decision hung in the air between you, unresolved, as the reality of your positions slowly settled back in.

Rhaenyra sat in her brother's chambers long after he had left for his flight on Silverwing. The tension between them still lingered in the air, and her heart raced in her chest as her mind replayed the kiss over and over. It had been so brief, so unexpected, yet it had ignited something deep inside her—a yearning that felt both familiar and foreign. She had always loved her brother, Y/N, admired him, and looked up to him as a strong, dependable force in her life. He had been her protector, her confidant, the one person she could always trust.

But now, something had shifted. The love she felt for him, once innocent and pure, had taken on a new, more dangerous form. She couldn't deny the physical attraction that had bloomed between them, the pull she felt whenever they were close. It scared her, and yet she couldn't resist it. The kiss they had shared wasn't just a fleeting moment of weakness—it had been something inevitable, something that had been building between them for years.

Rhaenyra stood from her seat, pacing the room as her thoughts tumbled over one another. She could still feel the warmth of his lips on hers, the way his breath had mingled with her own. She had always known she was possessive of him, but now, that possessiveness had taken on a sharper edge. The idea of him marrying anyone else filled her with a jealousy so fierce it was almost painful.

And then there was Alicent.

Rhaenyra's jaw tightened as her thoughts shifted to her so-called friend. Alicent had come to her brother’s chambers—of course, under the guise of delivering her father’s message, but Rhaenyra had seen through it immediately. Alicent had been trying to get close to him, no doubt hoping to secure his attention for herself. The thought made Rhaenyra’s blood boil. How dare Alicent, who had always claimed to be her friend, make such a blatant move behind her back? And her brother, so polite, so unaware of what was happening, had entertained her.

Rhaenyra couldn’t sit still any longer. She needed to confront Alicent, to make her understand that whatever she thought she was doing, it had to stop. Without another thought, she swept out of her brother’s chambers and made her way through the winding halls of the Red Keep, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

As she walked, her thoughts returned to Y/N. She had felt the way his body had tensed when she kissed him, the hesitation in his response, but he hadn’t pulled away. He had kissed her back, and that gave her all the reason to believe that he felt the same—whether or not he was willing to admit it. They were Targaryens, after all. Their blood was different, their traditions different. She had heard the stories of their ancestors—Jaehaerys and Alysanne, the greatest king and queen Westeros had ever known—who had married each other in secret and ruled side by side. Why couldn’t she and her brother do the same?

But the idea of anyone else—anyone else—trying to steal him away from her was unbearable. And she knew that Alicent, for all her demure politeness, was playing her own game. Rhaenyra would not stand by and let it happen.

She found Alicent in the gardens, sitting quietly beneath a tree, her hands folded neatly in her lap. There was a peacefulness to the scene, but Rhaenyra was anything but calm. Her anger boiled over as she strode toward Alicent, her footsteps loud enough to announce her approach.

Alicent looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of her friend, and immediately sensed the storm brewing in Rhaenyra’s eyes.

"Rhaenyra," Alicent greeted cautiously, standing to meet her. "Is everything all right?"

Rhaenyra didn’t bother with pleasantries as she stormed forward, her eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “Don’t act as if you don’t know,” she snapped, her voice low but laced with venom.

Alicent blinked, genuinely taken aback by the sudden hostility. “I… I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”

Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes, closing the distance between them, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. “You went to my brother’s chambers.”

Alicent’s face paled slightly, but she tried to hold her ground. “Yes, to deliver my father’s message,” she said, though her tone wavered with uncertainty.

Rhaenyra scoffed, her anger flaring. “Your father’s message?” she echoed mockingly. “That’s what you’re calling it?”

Alicent’s hands tightened in front of her, her composure faltering under the weight of Rhaenyra’s accusations. “I… I was only doing what my father asked of me. I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean to what? Go behind my back? Try to gain my brother’s favor?” Rhaenyra’s voice rose as she stepped closer, her emotions swirling in a chaotic mix of betrayal and possessiveness. “I thought you were my friend, Alicent. But friends don’t do what you did.”

Alicent’s eyes widened, and she took a step back, her voice faltering. “I am your friend, Rhaenyra. You know that. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Rhaenyra’s fists clenched at her sides as she fought to keep control of the emotions surging within her. The kiss with her brother was still fresh in her mind, but she couldn’t say it, couldn’t let the truth slip out—not yet. “A friend wouldn’t try to worm her way into my brother’s life like this,” Rhaenyra hissed, her anger spilling over. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been doing. The way you look at him. The way you linger when you speak to him.”

Alicent’s expression hardened slightly as she realized where this was coming from. “And what if I do look at him?” she countered, her voice steadying. “He’s a prince, Rhaenyra. You know as well as I do that if he doesn’t choose me, he will choose someone else. He’s the heir to the Iron Throne. It’s his duty to marry, to strengthen his house.”

Rhaenyra felt a flash of unexpected jealousy burn through her chest. She stepped even closer, her voice a dangerous whisper. “I know his duty,” she spat. “I know better than anyone.”

Alicent met her gaze, searching her face for answers, for some understanding of why Rhaenyra was so deeply affected by this. “Then why are you so angry?” Alicent asked, her voice tinged with frustration. “There’s nothing wrong in what I’ve done. Your brother has a responsibility to marry, to secure alliances for the crown. You can’t stop that.”

Rhaenyra’s chest tightened at Alicent’s words, and she nearly let slip the secret she had been holding onto—the kiss, the feelings that had stirred between her and her brother. But she stopped herself just in time, swallowing the confession before it could escape her lips. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Alicent’s brow furrowed in confusion, her tone softening. “Then help me understand, Rhaenyra. Why are you so angry? Is it because of me?”

Rhaenyra’s hands trembled at her sides, her emotions spiraling out of control. She couldn’t explain what she was feeling without revealing too much—without revealing the truth about her and her brother. But the thought of Alicent trying to take him from her, trying to gain his favor, made her sick with jealousy.

“You have no idea,” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “You don’t know him like I do.”

Alicent, still perplexed, tried to reach out to her friend. “Rhaenyra, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just doing what’s expected of me, the same as you. Your brother is—”

Rhaenyra cut her off, her voice hard again. “My brother will make his own choices. And I’ll make sure he knows what you’ve been doing.”

Alicent’s eyes widened in shock at the veiled threat, her voice trembling. “I’m not trying to steal him from you, Rhaenyra. I—”

Rhaenyra shook her head, her voice cold and final. “Just stay away from him.”

With that, Rhaenyra turned sharply on her heel and stormed away, her heart racing and her mind spinning with a tangle of emotions she couldn’t quite control. The kiss, her jealousy, her anger at Alicent—it was all too much. But what hurt the most was the uncertainty of it all. Her brother hadn’t rejected her kiss, but he hadn’t embraced it fully either. And the thought of him being forced to marry someone else—whether it be Alicent or another noble lady—made her stomach churn.

As she walked through the gardens, her thoughts returned to the moment in front of the Dragonpit, when she and Y/N had been so close to crossing a line that neither of them could come back from. That kiss had awakened something in her—something she had been trying to ignore for so long. She loved him, she had always loved him, but now it was different. Now it was a love that burned with a dangerous intensity, a love that she wasn’t sure she could keep hidden for much longer.

One thing was certain—she would not let anyone, not even Alicent, come between her and her brother.

The sky stretched endlessly above you as Silverwing’s wings beat in steady rhythm, carrying you high above the Red Keep. The wind rushed past, cool against your skin, and the sound of it drowned out everything—every voice, every demand, every burden you carried. Up here, there was no court, no intrigue, no weight of duty pressing down on your shoulders. It was just you and Silverwing, soaring over the vast expanse of Westeros, far from the tangled mess of emotions and expectations below.

But no matter how far you flew, no matter how high you soared, your thoughts couldn’t escape the turmoil inside you.

Rhaenyra.

Her name alone was enough to stir something deep within you, something you had been trying to suppress ever since the moment you left her chambers. The kiss you had shared had ignited a fire between you, one that you had feared for some time. In that fleeting moment, it was as if all the walls you had built, all the careful distance you had maintained, had come crashing down. You had always loved your sister, always admired her strength and spirit, but over the years, that love had grown into something else, something dangerous.

And now… now you couldn’t deny it any longer.

Your grip tightened on the reins as Silverwing dipped lower, gliding gracefully over the hills that stretched beyond King’s Landing. The dragon’s power beneath you was a comforting presence, but it did little to calm the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. The memory of Rhaenyra’s lips against yours haunted you, the way her body had pressed close, her words a whisper between you: "You can wed me. We are Targaryens."

She had said it so easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And perhaps for her, it was. You had grown up hearing the stories of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, the dragon-riding king and queen who had been siblings and lovers, ruling together in harmony. But that had been a different time, and even their union had sparked controversy. The Faith had never fully accepted the Targaryen tradition of sibling marriage, and the realm was no longer the same as it had been under Jaehaerys’s rule.

Could you truly wed Rhaenyra? The thought was daunting, and not just because of the moral or political implications. She was your sister, your blood. Yet, when you looked at her, it wasn’t just as a brother looks at his sister. In those three years you had been gone, she had grown into a woman—beautiful, fierce, and full of life. Her presence had always been a comfort to you, but now, it stirred something far more complicated. Something you feared you couldn’t control.

You exhaled sharply, trying to clear your mind as Silverwing carried you higher, the city of King’s Landing growing smaller beneath you. Your father, Viserys, would never approve. That much was certain. Even if the Faith were to tolerate a union between you and Rhaenyra, the realm would demand alliances. Viserys had always been a king who sought peace, and he would never risk alienating the great houses or the Faith for such a marriage. The political consequences could be dire. The Targaryens were powerful, but they could not afford to make enemies of the Faith, not now.

And then there was the court, always whispering, always plotting. Otto Hightower, your father’s Hand, was no fool. He would see through any plans you and Rhaenyra might try to make. Otto’s mind was sharp, always calculating the next move for House Hightower, and you knew he had ambitions of his own. The idea of him maneuvering behind your back only made your head ache more.

You grimaced, your thoughts turning to the meeting you would have with Otto soon—another matter that weighed heavily on your mind. The council was preparing for trade negotiations with the Free Cities, and Otto had insisted you be part of the discussions. It wasn’t something you particularly relished; your strengths lay on the battlefield, not in politics. But duty was duty, and as the heir to the Iron Throne, you had no choice but to be involved. The coming talks would be critical for the realm’s economy, and your presence was expected, even if the court’s intrigues made your skin crawl.

Still, it was the matter with Rhaenyra that gnawed at you the most. How could you face the council, the court, even your own father, with this secret between you and your sister? The kiss had opened floodgates you feared you couldn’t close again. Rhaenyra had made her feelings clear, but you… you were torn between what you wanted and what your duty demanded of you.

Silverwing let out a low rumble beneath you, sensing your unease. You patted the dragon’s neck absentmindedly, grateful for the connection you shared. Up here, with Silverwing, there were no expectations, no demands. But you couldn’t stay in the sky forever. Eventually, you would have to return to the Red Keep, to face the reality waiting for you below.

As you flew further, your thoughts kept returning to Rhaenyra’s suggestion that you wed her. The logic behind it wasn’t without merit. You were both Targaryens, and such marriages had been part of your family’s legacy for generations. Rhaenyra had even pointed out that King Jaehaerys had wed his sister Alysanne, and they had been beloved rulers. But it wasn’t that simple anymore. The court, the Faith, the realm—all of them would expect you to marry for alliances, not love. Certainly not for a bond that many would see as an abomination.

You felt a knot of frustration tightening in your chest. Rhaenyra was right about one thing: you did feel something for her. That kiss had stirred something primal, something you had tried to bury, but it was undeniable now. But no matter how much you desired her, how much you wanted to throw caution to the wind and claim her as yours, the responsibilities that came with your title loomed larger than your desires.

If you were to marry Rhaenyra, the realm would demand answers. Otto Hightower, in particular, would be the first to protest. He had his own designs for Rhaenyra, no doubt aiming to secure her hand for a lord that could strengthen House Hightower’s position. And then there was the matter of the Faith—if you wed your sister, you risked reigniting old tensions with the Faith of the Seven, tensions that could spill into conflict. The crown couldn’t afford another war, especially not one fought over such a personal matter.

The irony of it all stung. For all the power and privilege you held as a prince, you were just as bound by duty and expectation as anyone else. The thought of being used as a political pawn infuriated you, but that was the price of being the heir. Your desires were secondary to the needs of the realm.

And yet… what if you could make it work? What if there was a way to marry Rhaenyra and still keep the peace? The idea seemed impossible, but you couldn’t shake it. You were a Targaryen, after all. The rules had always bent for your family before. Perhaps, if handled delicately enough, you could find a way to navigate the court’s demands and still claim the one person you truly wanted by your side.

But as you flew over the sea, the waves crashing against the cliffs below, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the decision that loomed before you. The kiss had changed everything, and now you were faced with choices that could shape not just your future, but the future of the realm.

Silverwing let out another low rumble, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your thoughts. For now, you would enjoy the freedom of the skies, the cool wind against your skin. But soon enough, you would have to return to the Red Keep, to face Rhaenyra, your father, and the court that watched your every move.

The small council meeting had drawn to a close, with the lords and advisors filing out of the chamber one by one, their voices still murmuring about the matters of trade, security, and the upcoming negotiations with Essos. You remained seated at the table, your thoughts drifting far from the council’s discussions, far from the politics that had dominated the room. Though you had offered your insight where needed, your mind had frequently wandered—to the skies, to Silverwing, and, most of all, to your sister, Rhaenyra.

As the last of the council members left, Otto Hightower lingered. He rose slowly from his seat, his sharp gaze fixed on you, watching as the room emptied. There was always something calculating about Otto, a keen intelligence behind his measured words, and you could feel his eyes on you even before he spoke.

"Your Grace," Otto began, his voice smooth and polite, "if I might ask for a moment of your time. There are a few matters I wish to discuss privately."

You nodded, already suspecting where this conversation might lead. The chamber doors closed softly, leaving just the two of you, the dim light of the candles casting long shadows on the stone walls. You leaned back in your chair, your fingers drumming lightly on the wooden table, waiting for Otto to make his move.

Otto took his time, folding his hands behind his back as he approached. "I must say," he began carefully, "the court feels more… grounded with your return, Your Grace. The king has been much more content now that his heir is safely home. Your presence has brought a sense of stability to the capital that was sorely missed."

You inclined your head slightly in acknowledgment. "I’m glad to hear it, Lord Hand. It is my duty to be here for the realm and for my father. Though I admit, I sometimes find the weight of court affairs to be a heavy burden."

Otto’s lips curved into a slight, knowing smile. "A burden, yes, but one that you carry with admirable grace. It is no small thing to be the heir to the Iron Throne. Your father, the king, relies on you more than you may realize."

You knew where this was going, the subtle flattery, the careful words meant to soften what was coming next. Otto Hightower never spoke without intention, and you could feel the shift in the conversation as he guided it toward more personal matters.

"I imagine," Otto continued, his tone still polite, "that your time in Dorne was… challenging. A different kind of duty, certainly, but one that suited your skills well. But now, being back at court, you must find it… refreshing to be surrounded by family again."

You nodded, though your mind was already elsewhere. "It is good to be home. My family means a great deal to me."

"Indeed," Otto said, his voice taking on a slightly more casual tone. "And speaking of family… I believe my daughter, Alicent, had the pleasure of delivering a message to you today. I trust she was able to assist you adequately?"

There it was. The real reason for this conversation. You could see the way Otto’s gaze flicked over your face, gauging your reaction, trying to read you. He was probing, testing the waters, to see if his daughter’s attempts to gain your attention had borne any fruit.

You kept your expression carefully neutral, offering a polite but noncommittal smile. "Lady Alicent was very kind. She delivered her father’s message with grace and professionalism. I appreciate her assistance."

Otto’s smile widened slightly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was a man used to maneuvering through the intricacies of court politics, and he wasn’t easily dissuaded. "I am glad to hear that, Your Grace. Alicent speaks highly of you, as does the rest of the court. It is clear that your presence here brings a sense of calm and strength, particularly to those close to the king."

His words were deliberate, carefully chosen to steer the conversation toward Alicent without being too direct. But you could see through it easily enough. Otto was testing your interest, trying to discern whether you saw his daughter as anything more than a messenger or a polite face in court.

You nodded again, keeping your tone courteous but distant. "Lady Alicent is a fine lady, and I value her friendship with my sister."

Otto tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction, but he didn’t press. "Yes, she and Princess Rhaenyra have grown quite close over the years. It is a friendship that has been a great comfort to my daughter, and I believe it has been mutually beneficial for both of them. Strong friendships are important, especially in court, wouldn’t you agree?"

You could feel the shift in Otto’s approach, the way he was trying to guide the conversation toward more personal matters. It was a delicate dance, one you had seen countless times in court. You knew what he wanted—you knew he was hoping to plant the seed of a potential match between you and Alicent. But your thoughts were far from the Hand’s daughter. Every time he mentioned her, your mind drifted back to Rhaenyra. Her kiss, her words, the fire that had sparked between you both.

"I agree," you said after a pause, choosing your words carefully. "Court can be a lonely place without strong bonds."

Otto’s gaze sharpened, his tone growing just a touch more pointed. "And bonds of marriage, of course, are among the strongest of all. They unite houses, strengthen alliances, and secure the future of the realm."

You nodded, though your thoughts remained distant, swirling around Rhaenyra and the tangled mess of emotions she stirred in you. Otto continued to speak, but his words began to fade into the background as your mind wandered to the possibility that Rhaenyra had raised. Marriage. It wasn’t just a political tool for you anymore—it was something personal, something tied to the fierce and complicated love you felt for your sister.

"Of course," Otto was saying, "there will come a time when certain decisions must be made about the future of the realm—decisions about alliances, about securing the throne through marriage. It is a delicate matter, but one that I trust you will handle with wisdom and care."

You blinked, refocusing on the conversation at hand, though you had heard enough to understand his meaning. "I am aware of the responsibility I bear, Lord Hand," you replied, your tone still courteous but distant. "But some matters require careful thought, not haste."

Otto studied you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. He could tell that you weren’t fully engaged in the conversation, but he chose not to push further. Instead, he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Of course, Your Grace. There is always time to consider these matters carefully. But know that you have the support of those who wish to see you succeed—myself included."

You nodded, offering a polite smile. "Thank you, Lord Hightower. I appreciate your counsel."

With that, Otto seemed to understand that there was little more to be gained from this conversation. He bowed his head respectfully. "If there is anything else you require, Your Grace, you know where to find me."

As Otto took his leave, you let out a quiet breath, the tension of the conversation still lingering in the air. You had played your part well, keeping your responses polite but noncommittal, careful not to give Otto any more insight than was necessary. But beneath the surface, your thoughts continued to churn.

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand the importance of what Otto had said—alliances, marriage, duty. These were all things that had been drilled into you since you were a child. But every time you considered the prospect of marriage, it wasn’t Alicent, or any other noble lady, who came to mind.

It was Rhaenyra.

Her kiss still haunted you, the memory of it sharp and electric. You had always admired her, always loved her, but now… now that love had grown into something you weren’t sure you could control. And the thought of her being married off to someone else, of her being taken from you, was enough to make your chest tighten.

You sighed, pushing yourself up from your chair and walking toward the window. The view of King’s Landing stretched out before you, but your gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sea met the sky. Somewhere out there, Silverwing was always waiting, the promise of freedom calling to you. But freedom wasn’t something you could easily claim—not with the weight of the realm on your shoulders.

And not with the tangled mess of emotions that now bound you to your sister.

[dustofthedailylife]

The Art Of Desire

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Pairing: Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader

Summary: You are in need of a model for your anatomy class assignment. However, the last thing you expected was that your crush would volunteer to help you and that he would end up standing in front of you without a shirt.

Tags: Fluff, Suggestive (but still completely SFW)!, shy reader, partial nud*ty I guess? (Alhaitham is shirtless at some point), flirting, kissing

A/N: *throws fic into the room and leaves*

Being an artist while also being a scholar in Sumeru had always been somewhat difficult for you. The arts had never been something most people in Sumeru City appreciated or even actively looked down upon. It was a city of scholars after all, and the arts were too abstract to properly grasp for most of them.

Things had begun to become better after the old Grand Sage had been replaced and the new Archon had been freed but a lot of scholars still didn’t show much interest in the arts.

But due to that an assignment for one of your classes proved difficult. Anatomy.

You had no idea how learning human anatomy would help you as an architect later, but you did what you had to do. And it would surely help you with your personal art projects later on as well.

The only thing you had to find now was someone who could pose for you. Surely Kaveh would be able to help you right? He was your best friend and was once in the same situation.

You sought him out where he hung around the most - the Tavern.

As you walked through the Tavern door, warm air that smelled like wine and spices wafted your way and filled all your senses. You loved how homely it always felt here.

You scanned the tables to find Kaveh. Unfortunately for you though, he wasn’t alone. As you feared, Alhaitham was with him. You already considered turning around to leave again but Kaveh had already spotted you and was enthusiastically waving for you to come over to their table. 

And that was precisely the reason you rarely ever came here nowadays. Kaveh often met up with Alhaitham here for lunch. And your crush on the latter had slowly but surely turned you into a nonsense-blabbering mess during conversations with him. At this point, he probably thought you were stupid.

You hesitantly tiptoed over to their table and greeted them while your heart pounded heavily inside your chest. You sat down on the bench next to Kaveh who was already a bit tipsy. It wasn’t much of a surprise, since he was such a lightweight and practically got drunk as soon as he looked at wine the wrong way.

“Kaveh, I need your help!” You pleaded, trying to avoid eye contact with Alhaitham as much as possible once again.

“And that would be, my dear friend?” Kaveh replied in a singsong voice.

“Alright so… I need someone to pose for me. I need to draw a couple of detailed torso drawings for the anatomy course I’ve been taking, and since you also took that once I thought you could help me. I mean, you could also give me some tips. Right?” 

“Oh.” His smile faltered for a brief moment and his facial expression told you everything you needed to know. There was apparently a reason he couldn’t help but he didn’t outright want to turn you down. You knew how he is, he simply couldn’t say no and would inconvenience himself any time for his friends. And you definitely didn’t want him to do that for you. You’d be able to find someone else somehow.

“It’s okay if you can’t do it. Just say no.” You reassured him.

“I have an appointment in the desert with a client, but I’m sure I could make some ti–”

“I’ll help you.” Alhaitham cut Kaveh off.

Both of you snapped your heads in his direction in disbelief.

“Are you sick?! Why would you volunteer to help anyone but yourself?” Kaveh gasped and looked at the Scribe as if he’d lost his mind.

“It’s not much work, is it? They could just come to my office and draw me while I just sit there doing my work. Isn’t that correct?” Alhaitham inquired, boring his turquoise eyes into you. You simply nodded in reply and could feel your breath hitch in your throat. You were sure that if you would be standing right now your knees would’ve probably given in by now since they felt like jello. On top of that, your nervousness skyrocketed so badly that you were able to feel your heartbeat in your throat. 

The thought of being alone with Alhaitham for a prolonged period of time while ogling him as closely as you never dared before, made your heart flutter. You probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate on drawing properly but if he was already offering it, you couldn’t possibly refuse. Especially since he usually didn’t do anyone any favors to begin with.

“Besides,” Alhaitham continued. “It gives me an excuse to decline every other meeting for the rest of the day.”

“Tch, typical. Of course, there’d be an egoistic reason for your volunteering.” Kaveh scoffed.

“I don’t see any issue with that. I help them with their assignment while also helping myself. It’s a beneficial endeavor for both of us.” Alhaitham reasoned, twirling his own wine cup between his fingers before turning to you again. "Wouldn't you agree, too?"

You slowly nodded before quickly averting your eyes again since you couldn't bear to look at Alhaitham for longer than a few seconds without getting flustered. You had no idea how you were supposed to look at him for a prolonged period of time to draw him if you were already reduced to a flustered mess by talking to him. The thought alone made your heart almost jump out of your chest.

Kaveh shook his head in annoyance and turned to you once more. “Just say the word and I’ll take a day off to help you. Rest assured, it would be no problem for me.”

“No, Kaveh. I couldn’t possibly ask you to neglect your own responsibilities for my projects. Just keep your focus on yourself. If Alhaitham is so kind to offer his help I’ll take him up on that.” You reassured him while trying to hide how nervous you actually were about the situation.

“Well, shall we get going then? My lunch break is almost over.” Alhaitham interrupts, immediately getting up from the table.

You somewhat hesitantly got up as well since you didn’t expect he meant you could draw him right now. You had no time to mentally prepare for it so this would be interesting.

“Oh, so now you suddenly care about getting back to work on time after your lunch break,” was the last thing you heard Kaveh yell before the door of the Tavern fell shut behind both of you.

As you quietly tailed behind Alhaitham back to his office the realization that you’d actually be drawing him now suddenly began to dawn on you.

Oh, just what did you agree to here? And how in the world should you avoid making this awkward now?

Once you arrived at his officeAlhaitham unlocked the door and motioned you inside.

“You can sit down at the table over there. Do you need anything?”

“No. I should be fine.” You replied with a shy smile.

You were in fact everything but that.

While you were trying not to have a meltdown as you unpacked your stuff, Alhaitham was brewing some coffee and handed you a cup as well.

“Do you need me to do anything?” He asked.

“Hm?”

“In terms of posing.”

“Oh. Uh– no actually not. Just sit on your chair and read or whatever?”

“Nothing easier than that.” He replied with a faint smile, grabbing a book from the bookshelf beside you and walking back to his desk.

You busied yourself by scanning the books on the shelves that littered his office while sipping on your coffee before you turned around again and had to stop yourself from immediately spitting your coffee out again. Although as soon as you did you wished you had never done so.

Alhaitham had unclasped his cape and had loosely thrown it over his desk and was just about to pull his shirt over his head. You were trying to process what was happening before your eyes but your mind was racing so fast that you failed to fully grasp the scene before you.

“W-what are you doing?!” You stammered.

“Didn’t you say this was for your anatomy assignment?” He inquired, seeming entirely unbothered before ultimately removing his shirt completely.

Well, yeah you did. And for that bare skin was sort of a requirement. You knew that full well, too. It just sort of slipped your mind that taking Alhaitham up on his offer would actually entail seeing him without a shirt as well.

“Y-yes.” You replied, moving your eyes over his now exposed abdominal muscles. His usual shirt already left little to the imagination, but actually seeing his trained body without the thin piece of fabric covering it was a sight for sore eyes.

He claimed to only be a feeble scholar but that notion couldn’t be any further from the truth.

“Then there you have the answer to your question.” He stated matter-of-factly before sitting down and opening his book to read. His face still looked as unbothered as it did before and he immediately lost himself in his book.

In the meantime, you tried your hardest to get yourself together again. Not only did you need to keep your eyes from wandering but also your mind. 

You traced every well-toned muscle of his upper body. How light and shadow formed their contours and how his pectorals moved whenever he flipped another page. You took note of every detail and etched it into your memory while suppressing the urge to brush over his defined muscles.

You sat down at the table and held onto your pen for dear life as you continued to analyze every little detail of his body. The embedded gem between his collarbones and hot it beautifully shimmered in the light of his office. The sharp V-Line that started right above his hips. The symmetric curve of his collarbones leading up to his shoulders. And his turquoise eyes that were boring into yours once again.

"Is anything the matter?" He inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

"N-no. I'm just trying to find a starting point." You stammered your poor attempt at an excuse.

After all 'Sorry, I was too distracted by staring at your body' wasn't something you could just say either.

“T-tell me if you’re getting too cold and we can take a break.”

“It’s 40 degrees outside, I’ll be fine.” He chuckled seemingly amused about your concern.

“Ri-right. Yeah. Okay.” You awkwardly bit your lip. For Archon's sake, why couldn’t you just behave normally around him?

After overcoming the first awkwardness you eventually started sketching. But the more the shapes on your paper resembled the beautiful man in front of you, the more flustered you became again and the more aware you became of the fact of how closely you were actually looking at him. Your attention to detail for this sketch was even more on point than it had ever been before. Upon realizing that it was because you were enjoying what you were seeing your cheeks started to burn in embarrassment.

You spent about an hour immersed in sketching, carefully studying every contour of his upper body. It felt so intimate that you couldn't help but wonder if anyone had ever looked at him this way before. And even though you kept telling yourself that this was just a regular art study session to avoid getting flustered further, the endeavor proved completely unsuccessful. 

Eventually, you finished your piece and dropped your pen on the table. You lifted your sketchbook up to evaluate the page and the final result.

The once-blank page was now filled with an intricate pencil sketch of the handsome man with a dreamlike physique. You had to admit, he truly was the perfect subject for anatomy studies. And while you wouldn’t mind seeing him shirtless more often you doubt your heart could handle it another time. Because despite sitting the entire time you felt like you had just run a marathon.

“Your talent is quite impressive.” Alhaitham’s voice rang right next to your ear and made you flinch. You didn’t notice how he had approached you. And what made things worse is that he was still shirtless while standing next to you so closely you could feel the heat that emanated from his skin and smell his after-shave.

You gulped and got up from your chair avoiding looking into his eyes as much as possible because you feared that if you did your heart would burst out of your chest. 

“Thank you. That means a lot. I-I mean… it was quite easy to see the muscle definition on you.”

Facepalm. Why did you say that? You internally cringed at your choice of words and continued to avoid looking at him while you hastily started packing your bag again.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” He remarked with a smirk and lifted your chin up with your sketchbook, forcing you to look into his eyes.

You opened your mouth in order to say something but everything you could’ve said died in your throat. So instead, you simply continue to stare at him while your heart felt like it was about to combust and you wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground in shame.

He huffed in amusement at your evident flustered state and closed the gap between your bodies, placing his arm next to your head on the wall, towering over you.

“Do you have any idea how obvious you are?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I see the way you look at me, or rather how you always avoid doing so now. And Kaveh happened to slip up and revealed your secret when he got drunk. And that’s why I can tell you that I feel the exact same way about you. And I’ve longed for a moment to tell you. You didn’t make it easy since you kept avoiding me lately.”

You didn’t know whether what was happening was wishful imagination or a fever dream because it felt surreal. 

He put your sketchbook back on the table and lifted your chin with his free hand now. He took hold of one of your hands and placed it on his abs.

“This is what you wanted to do the entire time, am I right?” He whispered while the bud of his thumb brushed past your lower lip. You slowly nodded as your traced along his toned stomach with a featherlight touch, feeling how the muscles moved below your fingertips.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered in a low tone when you looked up into his eyes.

He had barely even finished asking when you leaned into him more and took the initiative to place your lips on his for a shy kiss. But it was so fleeting it had you longing for more and it seems that the feeling was mutual.

He quickly snaked his arms around your waist and pressed you against him with fervor while he hungrily crashed his lips into yours once more. You slung your arms around his neck and entangled your fingers in his soft gray locks while pushing his face even closer to yours than it already was.

You could feel him smiling into the kiss, as you did so. His lips continued to gently caress yours like a tender whisper of affection shared only between you two. It made you feel lightheaded while also leaving you longing for more. It was an intoxicating feeling like no other. One you certainly could get addicted to - and maybe you already were. 

At some point, you had no idea for how long you had been standing there kissing but it felt like an eternity yet not long enough at the same time.

You were sure of one thing though – You needed more of it.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[tj-crochets]

Two more MRI questions! 1. the lady I spoke to said I could wear my own clothes as long as there's no metal. I don't think I have any pants that don't have metal except pajama pants; is it okay to wear pajamas? 2. if they are only MRI-ing my head and I can crochet entirely without looking at it, do you think they'd let me bring crochet and a wooden or plastic hook to keep my hands busy? wait no okay third question: if they are only MRI-ing my brain is my whole body in the loud machine or just my head?

Hey y'all! Weird question time again! I will be having my first MRI in a few weeks (specifically, an MRI of my brain) and I know nothing about it except No Metal Allowed. I will not be getting the contrast dye on account of I kicked up a fuss about potential anaphylaxis* and the doctor was kind of like "fine but if we find anything and need a clearer picture you'll have to get another one" Do you have any advice/suggestions/things I should know about MRIs? *if, as several doctors have suspected, my weird allergies are MCAS there is a good chance I am severely allergic to the dye. Also I am a bit paranoid about injections in general because my allergic reactions to injections are waaaaaay worse than my reactions to food, pills, or environmental allergies

[fyodere]

spy x family ! au yuri briar smut ( pt. 1 ) ♡

complex feelings about you

﹙ 🦇 ﹚── parings : yuri briar x fem!reader ♡

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), yandere themes (we’re talking about yuri), obsession, mutual obsession (kinda), masturbation, virginity kink, purity kink in general, yuri touching himself wearing his uniform 😩, kind of sexting ???, stalking

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Yuri was immersed in his obsession with you, becoming more and more determined to uncover every detail about your life. He searched through every file folder, every record, wishing to fully understand who you were. His fixation exceeded healthy boundaries, replacing even the photos of his sister with images of you in his personal spaces.

﹙ 🩸 ﹚── author's note : IM SO SORRY FOR THIS. i’m being for real. sorry for not posting the requests or my other drafts. yuri was simply calling for me. THIS IS GOING TO BE A SERIES because i need more yuri content. anyway, HAPPY EASTER <3

When you first laid eyes on Yuri, something clicked in your head.

Perhaps it was his innocent brown-reddish eyes; his youthful and gentle demeanor, reminiscent of a puppy; or maybe his slightly long black hair that practically caressed his shoulders; perhaps his unexpectedly masculine and strong stature.

Truth be told, when you saw Yuri Briar for the first time, you flipped, completely.

You were just a secretary working in the public sector for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Your job was relatively simple but tiring. Tasks like scheduling appointments, organizing documents, answering phones, drafting correspondence, and providing administrative support to members of the Ministry were part of your routine. You played an important role in maintaining efficiency and coordinating activities within the institution. Not that you were extremely valued — of course not. But still, the salary was good enough to sustain your humble and comfortable life in Ostania.

You saw Briar for the first time on your first day of work, early in the morning. He was standing, holding a cup of coffee while talking to his superior with a smile.

Your heart skipped a beat.

When you looked at Yuri, it was love at first sight. Your eyes widened, your face grew warm, and you blushed. How could such a handsome man be working in the same place as you? Staring at him for another brief moment, you presumed he was probably young and around your age. Your heart skipped another beat, did you two have something in common? The thought made you want to slap yourself; how could you fantasize about a man you hadn't even met?

You approached your superior, introducing yourself. The red-eyed man was by his side, and you resisted — emphasis on resisted — the urge to stare at him.

Your superior gave you instructions for the day and left, suddenly leaving you alone with the boy who took your breath away.

"I see it's your first day as a secretary, hm?" He said, now looking at you. "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Yuri Briar. I'm the Minister of Foreign Affairs."

So young and with such a high position? You thought.

"... I hope we can get along." He added, with a smile. And you felt your knees weaken.

"Of course, Mr. Briar! I'll do my best to be useful to you." Pathetically formal. But what could you do? Just his presence fried your neurons; it was better to err on the side of formality than to be disrespectful. Yuri gave you a smile, and your heart squeezed.

"It's okay, you don't need to be so formal." He chuckled softly, with his eyes closed. "I need to go to a meeting now, if it's not too much trouble, I need help with the paperwork..." And then he gave you instructions on what you should do in his absence.

Your face stayed red for the rest of the day, and your heart felt tight. The man with black hair wouldn't leave your mind. You organized things as you were asked, unconsciously dreaming of receiving praise from Briar.

Lost in reverie, it was already night, and Yuri hadn't arrived yet. You were cleaning his desk, lost in your thoughts, when unexpectedly, a voice cut through your train of thought.

"Hey!" It was Yuri. "You're still here, sorry for keeping you here so late." he rubbed his own neck with his hands timidly, with a smile. Unbeknownst to you, the room was empty. It was just you and Briar.

"N-No, Mr. Briar." You said, stuttering. "I lost track of time out of distraction. You're not to blame for anything. I did what was asked of me, now I'll be going home." You tried to leave quickly, feeling your face burn.

"Don't you want company? It's dangerous for a woman to go out alone at this hour." He said, with a calm demeanor. "I would hate to see my sister walking alone at this hour."

"Do you have a sister?"

"I do, an older sister." He said with a smile. "But, uh, the offer still stands. I can accompany you so you don't walk alone."

"No, Mr. Briar!" You replied. "You don't need to be so kind, I live nearby. It won't be a long walk, such concern isn't necessary."

"If you insist..." He replied, with a smile. The same smile that almost made you lose your balance and the strength to stand.

You left, walking in opposite directions. You couldn't help but blush remembering the dialogue exchanged with the young man; the heat in your body protected you from the cold of the street. And, without realizing it, you had already arrived home.

You lay on the bed sighing, with your hand resting on your chest. Remembering every word, every smile exchanged with the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

The next few days passed quickly. Unbeknownst to you, it had been months since you started working at the public ministry. Honestly, you didn't exchange many words with Briar. The red-eyed boy was busy with various meetings — which was understandable, given his enviable position — you understood, but secretly missed the dark-haired man and the small smiles and short dialogues exchanged.

Until the fateful day arrived.

"Can I talk to you?" Yuri spoke near your ear, you were cleaning the countertop, lost in your thoughts, you hadn't even noticed the approach of the dark-haired man.

"Of course, Mr. Briar." You turned to him.

"I've observed your behavior over the past few months," He said with his characteristic smile. "And you're exemplary! I talked to the higher-ups to give you a promotion!"

"But— huh? I can't believe I can be promoted, Mr. Briar." You said insecurely, and he replied with a laugh.

"Don't worry. It's a position, um... let's say, a bit secretive." He said, putting his index finger on his lips. "Soon, some superior will talk to you about the details!" And then he left, leaving you confused and anxious. What kind of position would this be?

A few hours passed, and you were called for a meeting. You entered the room, visibly nervous.

And what happened? Oh, what happened...

You were explained about the State security service, the secret police. Now you would work with the feared by civilians, secret police, was that what Yuri wanted?

So Briar's job as minister was a force?

All the details were explained to you, your role hadn't changed, you would only be given files of deep secrecy, which sent a shiver down your spine. Would you be able to carry such responsibility?

Your workplace had now changed. You found yourself going every morning to the discreet lair of the State security service. Once again, you were close to Briar, taking care of his confidential papers.

Now you knew Yuri's true profession. Honestly, you were amazed at the violence exerted by the security service. However, such a discovery made your heart race. Discovering another side of Briar made your breathing heavy; you were delirious with excitement. Now, that was a secret you both shared.

And, of course, he looked ridiculously handsome in his secret police uniform.

Now, you shared more moments together. Considering that all meetings that Yuri attended were a sham, and that, in fact, he was in that place the whole time.

Honestly, you didn't exchange many words. The atmosphere in that place was more tense, more serious. And now, you knew Yuri had interrogations. Interrogations in which Briar was not merciful, interrogations in which the black-haired man had no shame when it came to using violence.

You knew how brutish Yuri was — after all, you cleaned the blood from the room after interrogations —, it made your heart race in anxiety and fear, but also in desire.

At that moment, you were cleaning the interrogation room that had just been used by Briar. The smell of sweat and blood hangs in the air.

But the perfume of the red-eyed man too.

You were alone in the room, the highly trained police officers were going about their business, and Yuri was probably in some meeting with Desmond and his superiors about some plan to prevail for the glory of Ostania.

The room was already clean, and you admired your good work together. For a moment, you picked up a small towel that was resting under the table, brought it to your nose, and, closing your eyes, you inhaled the odor given off by the cloth.

It was Yuri's. You knew from the specific smell, he had probably used it to dry his sweat during the interrogation.

You inhaled it again, closing your eyes tightly, imagining Yuri next to you. And, without realizing it, your panties dampened just by imagining Briar behind you, rubbing against your body, sighing in your ear.

Finally, you began to rub your intimacy on the corner of the table, on the most pointed part of the table, rubbing your wet and needy cunt against the furniture, feeling a wave of pleasure run through your entire body.

“Mr. Briar—Ah!” You moaned, but then quickly covered your mouth, and in a moment of realization, you realized what you were doing. "My God." You say, moving away from the furniture, with your hands, slightly trembling over your mouth.

You were taught that women of value don't touch themselves or succumb to the pleasures of the flesh, but Yuri, with that black hair and reddish eyes, made you lose your temper.

When Yuri Briar first saw you, a switch flipped in his head.

Maybe it was your clumsy steps, betraying nervousness; your eyes shyly cast down; the way you twirled your hair, reflecting shyness; perhaps your innocent and defenseless demeanor, like someone in need of protection.

Truth be told, when Yuri Briar first saw you, he flipped, completely.

Briar held the position of a diplomat as a facade; in reality, the dark-haired man worked for Ostania's secret police as a counterintelligence agent. He had initially started his job in the ministry as an ordinary worker but was soon chosen to work in the secret police, safeguarding Ostania's future.

Briar saw you for the first time on his first day of work, early in the morning. He stood there, holding a cup of coffee while speaking to his superior with a smile.

His heart skipped a beat.

Yuri, with his spy skills, felt your gaze and discreetly looked back at you. It was love at first sight. Yuri noticed your sweetly timid face as you entered the room; Briar felt his face grow warm and flush. How could such a beautiful, pure, helpless, and worthy-of-protection woman be less than 6 meters away from him?

How did he know this? Briar could read your body language, your gaze, and your delicate voice.

Staring at you for another brief moment, he presumed that you were probably young and around his age. Yuri's heart skipped another beat; he had never felt such a strong urge to protect someone besides his sister.

Then, he felt you approaching your superior, introducing yourself. The man with reddened eyes stood by your side trying to conceal his slightly flushed face. Damn, wasn't spy training enough to learn how to hide his emotions?

Your superior gave you instructions on what would be done that day and left; suddenly, you two were alone.

"I see it's your first day as a secretary, hm?" He says, now looking at you. "Pleasure, my name is Yuri Briar. I'm the Minister of Foreign Relations."

Oh, so pure, so precious. He thought.

"... I hope we can get along." He adds, with a smile, trying not to reveal all his thoughts of protecting you.

"Of course, Mr. Briar! I'll do my best to be useful to you." Pathetically formal. But what could you do? Yuri gives you a smile, inevitably amazed by your tenderness. How could you be so lovely?

"It's okay, you don't have to be so formal." He chuckles softly, eyes closed, trying to reassure you. "I need to go to a meeting now, if it's not too much trouble, I need help with the paperwork..." And then he gave you instructions on what you should do in his absence.

Yuri was now at the secret police headquarters; suddenly, he found himself thinking of you. Without a second thought, he rummages through his stack of files, wanting to find out everything — anything — about you.

Yuri was immersed in his obsession with you, becoming more and more determined to uncover every detail about your life. He searched through every file folder, every record, wishing to fully understand who you were. His fixation exceeded healthy boundaries, replacing even the photos of his sister with images of you in his personal spaces.

As he delved deeper into this insatiable quest for information about you, the line between reality and fantasy became increasingly blurred. His mind was filled with thoughts of consuming you completely, possessing every aspect of your existence.

The next days passed quickly. Unnoticed, it had been months since you worked at the public ministry. Honestly, you didn't exchange many words with Briar. The red-eyed boy was busy with several meetings — which was understandable, given his enviable position — you understood, but secretly missed the dark-haired man and the small smiles and short conversations exchanged.

Until the fateful day arrived.

Yuri had a plan, a plan he was proud of. It was only a matter of time until you were in his hands.

You were cleaning the counter completely concentrated, in a quick and discreet move, he put an earpiece in your ear "Can I talk to you?" Yuri spoke near your ear, you hadn't even noticed the approach of the dark-haired man.

"Of course, Mr. Briar." You turned to him.

"I've observed your behavior over the past few months," He says with his characteristic smile. "And you are exemplary! I've spoken to the superiors to give you a promotion!"

"But— huh? I can't believe I could be promoted, Mr. Briar." You said insecurely, and he responded with a laugh.

"Don't worry. It's a position, um... let's say, a bit secretive." He says, putting his index finger on his lips. "Soon, some superior will talk to you about the details!" And then he left, leaving you confused and distressed. What kind of position could this be?

It was the perfect plan.

Yuri did what was necessary to put you in the State Security service. He just needed to recommend you and be patient.

Time passed, and there you were, working as a secretary for the secret police. Yuri couldn't help but smirk maliciously when he heard the news. He had already heard the entire conversation the superiors had with you through the bug, but nonetheless, Briar relished hearing the news officially.

Your workplace had now changed. You found yourself going to the discreet lair of the State Security service every morning. Once again, you were close to Briar, taking care of his confidential papers.

Honestly, you didn't exchange many words. The atmosphere in that place was more tense, more serious. And now, you knew that Yuri had interrogations. Interrogations that Briar was not merciful in, interrogations that the dark-haired man had no qualms about using violence.

Yuri had just finished another one of his violent interrogations, using all tactics, from physical to psychological torture to get the necessary information. Then, after the interrogation was over, he left.

Arriving home and still in his uniform, Yuri heard gasps — gasps coming from you. Soon he felt his face burn and his heart race. Did you… no. He knew you didn’t have a boyfriend and that you weren’t talking to any other men.

“Mr. Briar—ah!”

That was the last straw.

With his hands on his face after hearing what you had said through the wire, Yuri felt his knees weaken. Damn, you had an effect on him.

Briar felt his manhood throb, it was painful as it practically ripped his black boxers. But what the hell. Why he couldn't control his primal instincts when it comes to you?

So, even dressed in the uniform that should represent love for the country, he caressed his throbbing intimacy, which pulsed with each breath he took.

Then, Yuri noticed the end of your graceful sounds. He felt so dirty, so disgusting and disgusting to hear you in such an intimate moment. But even so, your voice, your delicate voice, so vulnerable and precious calling him by his last name in the middle of such adorable sounds made him feel like the most despicable man on Earth.

When you got home, you felt your intimacy tingling. The way her panties were wet bothered her. God, since when did you become like this? You washed your face, trying, in some way, to purify your mind. What the hell were you thinking?

Your face was still hot, and your heart was beating so fast it felt like it would escape through your mouth. Your face felt hot—as did your body—but what the fuck? You were satisfying your carnal desires while thinking about the red-eyed diplomat, and worse, you did it on his desk.

You ran to bed and smothered your face in pillows, trying, somehow, to escape the tricks your mischievous mind played on you.

And then, your mind wandered, and you emerged into your thoughts.

You were sitting on the table, with your legs open and Yuri between them. You were kissing, tongues swirling and eyes rolling. Gasps, bites, lust, desire.

You break the kiss, saying, “Mr. Briar, if someone catches us—“

“Shh…” He whispers. “Do you know why I'm in the state security service, hm? I can do the dirty work and get rid of the evidence.” He says, then kissing you again. Yuri's hands traveled over his body. One hand supporting her delicate torso, and the other venturing through all the lines and curves there were.

Without realizing it, you start touching your thighs.

Yuri was strong, agile and determined. This made you even more in love with him, Briar had so many qualities that you could snort remembering. But not. Not at that moment, you can only focus on his hot tongue exploring the roof of your mouth, the hot air that came out of him touching your skin in the middle of kiss breaks and summaries. God, Yuri was so good, so good. The man with reddish eyes breaks the kiss again, this time saying something.

“You look so beautiful like this.” He says, taking his hand off your hip and placing it on his face. “With a flushed face, heavy breathing. Just succumbing to my touch.” He lets out a nasal laugh.

“Mr. Briar, I—“

“I’m not done talking yet.” He cuts him off, his hand, which was caressing his face, goes down to his inner thighs. “No man touched you, yeah?”

“Uhm.” You nod, visibly nervous.

“So perfect for me. So pure, so defenseless…” He licks his lips, and the once affection turns into strong squeezes on the inside of your thighs, leaving marks.

You decide to imitate him, squeezing your own thighs as you imagine Yuri's firm touch.

Then, his hand moves up, like a light glide, caressing your private area, which, honestly, pulsed and squeezed the air begging for touches.

“No man…” Briar said with a light laugh. “No man…” He reaches your most sensitive spot, rubbing it deliciously, making you moan.

“A-Ah—ha!”

It didn't take long for his hand to reach your needy part, you simulated Yuri's touch once again, closing your eyes to concentrate on the moment.

“So beautiful…” The red-eyed boy says, slowly inserting a finger into your hot, soaked entrance. Fuck! You were asking for this, you were begging for Yuri's fingers entering you.

Yuri's eyes, once radiating innocence and tenderness, now glowed deeply with pure lust.

It was late at night, Briar found herself in a delicate situation. He tried to fall asleep at any cost, but his mind was just a loop of his voice calling him.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, Yuri hears gooey noises coming from his ear. Hmm? What could it be now? He thought focusing on the sounds coming from the other end of the line.

“Ah—ah! There is!" He heard your sweet voice again, as the sticky noises grew louder. Yuri wanted to cover his face with so much shame, the event he had tried so hard to get out of his mind was now repeating itself in full force, longer and more intense.

How could you sound so lovely, precious and worthy of protection at a time like that?

Yuri felt his cock throb painfully for the second time that day, Briar snorted, he needed you. Then, he took his cock out of the boxers that covered it, pre-cum leaking from his tip. But what the hell? Was he really so needy because of some sounds?

I mean, Yuri had definitely touched himself thinking about you before—more times than he'd like to admit—but now he felt like an intruder. A dirty, perverted intruder. His mind was so full of dirty thoughts about you, so since you were relieving yourself, why wouldn't he do the same?

Briar moans softly as she squeezes his cock. Damn, you must be so perfect to be fucked. Yuri watches the veins on his member pop out and his glans redden, in pure excitement.

“Ha… fuck…” He moans and then says his name in a sly tone, calling for you.

“Mhmmm… Ah…” He hears you on the other side “Ah—ah! Yuri..!"

That was enough. For the first time, he had heard you say his first name. And still with that precious voice full of malice. That was enough, enough for Yuri to start masturbating like crazy, imagining pumping you with his cock.

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

~

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

~

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

~

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

[steddieas-shegoes]

even on my worst days

for @steddiemicrofic's october prompt 'suck' (the first of many) rated: T (probably the only one not mature or explicit) wc: 480 cw: discussion of depression tags: a bad day, hurt/comfort, getting together

👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻

This day sucked.

He still had four hours left before he could be alone.

And two of those hours would be spent in therapy.

Because he was depressed.

According to the fancy doctor that was on call for the Hawkins crew, Steve had always been depressed, but now needed to learn to cope with the trauma he faced on top of that.

Or whatever.

His day started with his alarm clock not going off, making him late to work on the one day that Keith opened with him. After he got chewed out for 20 minutes about being responsible, he realized he forgot his lunch at home, and a dull headache was already starting behind his eyes.

Two customers in a row called him an idiot for not having the movie they wanted, followed by a kid knocking over their entire horror movie display because he got "scared."

By the time he cleaned up, his head was pounding, his stomach was growling, and Keith was yelling at him about Brent never showing up on time for his shift, as if that was Steve's problem.

Steve didn't get along with Brent, but he'd never been happier to see him when he did show up for his shift, replacing Keith.

"Steve?"

Steve's eyes focused back on...

"Eddie? What are you doing here?"

Eddie looked around, making sure they were alone at the counter before leaning in to answer.

"It's therapy day. Brought you a cookie."

Steve could kiss him.

He wanted to kiss him.

So far, the only thing about this day that didn't suck was Eddie standing in front of him holding a cookie like he did before all of his therapy appointments.

Instead of kissing him, Steve started crying.

"Shit, Stevie-" Eddie pulled him around the edge of the counter and against his chest. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Sorry. Just a shitty day. Probably making yours worse by crying about it."

"Nope, not at all. Kind of happy to be holding you, actually."

That was just unfair. Eddie was always just being way too nice and Steve didn't deserve it.

"You want me to stay with you until therapy?" Eddie whispered against his ear, sending a shiver down Steve's back.

"You don't have to-"

"I asked if you wanted me to."

Steve pulled back, but Eddie's arms remained around him.

"Will it help the day suck less if I stay?" he asked again.

Steve nodded.

And this time, instead of crying, Steve leaned back in and pecked him on the lips.

It was quick, it had to be since there was a customer still floating between aisles, and Brent was supposed to be back from his break any minute.

But it was something.

Eddie smiled at him, his eyes softening, losing the concern almost entirely.

It looked like his day might turn around, especially if he gets to keep kissing Eddie.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Jonathan Pine

Summary: Jonathan Pine is very nice to work for but you've been fooled before.

Warnings: Age discrimination, Bullying.

A/N: Reader is 40+ years old and female. No physical descriptors used.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Jonathan is startled out of his focus by your sweet voice, "Mr. Pine, you need to get moving for your 3 o'clock."

He smiles at you, "of course! And thank you for the reminder." He starts to gather everything he needs for the meeting. As he steps out of his office he pauses, feeling like he forgot something. You hold out the travel mug he keeps for walking around the building.

"Freshly brewed, Mr. Pine," you tell him.

He smiles, "you are far too kind." He nods a thanks to you before heading to the meeting.

While he's away you focus on your own work. Jonathan's schedule feels like it's a living entity with how many reschedules there are. Then there are the notes to transcribe. You're ever grateful he writes so clearly. You've had bosses before who expected you to quickly understand their chicken-scratch writing.

As you're typing a presence looms over your desk. You look up and are surprised to see Mr. Hansen standing there, arms crossed, looking like he's upset.

"Hello, Mr. Hansen," you greeted. "Mr. Pine is currently in a meeting elsewhere. Can I schedule you for an appointment with him?"

He scoffs, "which room is he in?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, Mr. Hansen." You knew that Lloyd would walk straight into any meeting Jonathan was currently in and disrupt everything, putting Jonathan's own work and standing at risk. Jonathan had even gone out of his way, more than once, to thank you for diverting Lloyd a few times.

"Why Pine puts up with an old bat like you I'll never know," he gibes. "I need to talk with him. NOW."

"Mr. Hansen, I get that, at your age, you probably have some hearing problems so I'll go ahead and say it again: Mr. Pine is in a meeting. Can I schedule you for an appointment with him?" Internally you let yourself smile at the wince he can't hold back. If he thinks he can get a rise out of you regarding your appearance, he's in for a harsh lesson.

Lloyd puts his hands on your desk, trying to stare you down, but you don't show any signs of fear. Instead, you politely ask, "oh, is your back hurting you? I understand what age can do to a person. Do you need a seat?"

"Hansen," Pine's voice cuts through the staring contest. "You will leave my assistant alone. I have five minutes that I can spare you." You recognize the icy tone, indicating Jonathan is furious. He follows Lloyd into his office and closes it much more forcefully than usual, making you jump.

You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself. Part of you knows that Jonathan is angry at Lloyd, not you. Knows that you were following orders and doing your job. But as you hear the raised voices coming from the office, you're scared that you've overstepped and this is what gets you fired. Replaced for someone younger and prettier.

Lloyd storms out, not giving you a second glance. Jonathan stands in his office doorway, glowering at Hansen's back.

"Mr. Pine, sir?" Your voice is quiet and meek but gets his attention.

His face softens as he looks at you. "Thank you for handling that as you did. I apologize for how you were treated."

"Oh, um...it's not a problem Mr. Pine."

"I also heard your own sharp comments," he chuckles. "You really are quite the rose."

"Mr. Pine?"

"You are lovely to look at, perceived as soft and gentle, but you've also got those sharp thorns," he smiles at you. "Truly, more than just a pretty face. I'm glad to have you as my assistant."

"Th-thank you, Mr. Pine." You struggle to keep yourself from crying tears of relief.

"Jonathan, please," he smiles.

"Thank you, Jonathan."

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

[peeweekey]

i visited idiot street and everyone knew your name!

part i, part ii, part iii

synopsis: the three times you friendzoned Alhaitham, and the one he made damn sure you didn't.

tags: alhaitham/reader ; school setting ; valentine's day special ; reader likes sewing ; miscommunication

Valentine’s day comes rolling around the next year, and you are sadly not present to witness Alhaitham lengthen his trail of broken hearts. A shame, really. This year, you were looking forward to bringing popcorn for the occasion—just to see him squirm.

You’ve been cooped up in the homeroom lab for the better part of the week, sewing and snipping away at one of the costumes for the school’s fair. Unlike last year, you don’t have your seniors to help you pin fabrics right or to assist in hand stitching plastic beads, as the newly appointed tailor's club head you have a lot more duties to take on.

It’s exhausting, you feel the deep creases underneath your eye—dreading to head to the bathroom and accidentally look into the mirror to face your own haggard appearance—and the dull ache in your hands and back is blocking any sense you could have.

The club room is otherwise quiet if not for the lo-fi beat playing from your phone’s speaker and the rhythmic snips of scissors gliding over fabric. You focus all your brain power on the task—fabric is not cheap and you don’t have enough mora in your wallet if you lose focus and mess up—and remain blissfully unaware of any potential distraction.

To be honest, it hadn’t even registered in your head that you weren’t alone in the room anymore, until the gentlest tap on your shoulder has you snapping your focus away from the brocade.

The sight of just who has you unconsciously gaping your mouth like a blubbering fish in shock—Alhaitham.

He stares at you blankly, his gaze is so intense it’s a little unnerving, you freeze up before him, and probably make yourself look like an idiot in the process.

Suddenly, the state of your appearance becomes a presiding worry. Having skipped lunch in favor of patterning tulle perfectly on the dummy mannequin. Your uniform is crumpled, creased with the lack of motion, stray threads and fabric fibers cover you head to toe similar to lint. It’s almost humiliating to be seen so disheveled by Alhaitham—when he himself looks like the epitome of put-together flawlessness.

“Haitham,” you start, smoothing out the fabric laid out on the table, it’s soft and smooth under your fingertips. “Need something?”

He spares a glance to whatever you’re fidgeting with behind you then to your face, which in turn makes you fist the work-in-progress fabric tighter in your hand.

Alhaitham seems to search for something in your expression, his gaze feels like it’s poking and prodding in your soul. Your hands itch to cover up whatever’s he’s fixated on, but you settle on the second best option; staring back just as hard and ten times more intensely.

“The second button of my shirt,” he says, Alhaitham points at his stark white button up, right where a button lay missing. You arch a brow at that, he’s most definitely only here to ask you to mend his shirt. No other reason.

And you are definitely not disappointed right now too.

Swallowing hard, your eyes drift to his face. “Do you need a replacement button?”

A crease forms between his brows. “No.”

Well.

“O-kay,” that stumps you, “What about it then?” you shoot him a puzzled look, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

That makes him pause. “I wanted to check if you wanted it.”

“…your button?”

“Yes, that’s why I came over here.”

He must be kidding. The two of you are standing in the homeroom lab, there’s a surplus of small white buttons, you’d rather pick from there than have him ruin a perfectly good shirt.

“Uh no thanks,” you scratch at the back of your neck, extremely confused. “I have a lot more buttons in the drawer, there’s no need to take one off your back.”

Once you said that and saw the expression on his face, you knew immediately that it was the wrong choice—even if it wasn’t a test question. Alhaitham does not pout, but that’s something he would say. If you were asked, the way his lips twitch downward slightly is pouting.

“I understand,” he says shortly and starts to turn back and reach for the door. You cannot hide your bewildered expression, pinching your brows in confusion.

“Wait—hold it right there,” you call, stepping a step or two following him. You, not wanting your conversation to end on such an unusually awkward note. “What’s up with you?”

“It’s nothing,” he says and you practically hear the sulky edge to his voice—something you swore he left back in middle school—still, he turns back to face you. “If you don’t want it, I won’t give it to you.”

Sighing, you step even closer to close some of the distance, holding your palm out impatiently to him. “Come over here, grumpy. I’ll take the button.”

He eases up slightly. “Don’t force yourself.”

Why you ought to wring this man by the neck. You place your free hand to rest on your waist. “You’re not forcing me, now hand it over.”

Alhaitham stands his ground, but eventually cracks, offering a compromise. “...I’ll leave it on the table.”

“Okay,” your eyes flutter shut in exhaustion and slight irritation—confusion more than anything. “See you, Haitham.”

He bids you goodbye, calling your name softly.

You hear the door slide open, then shut.

When you open your eyes, a singular translucent white button sits on your working table—along with a box of fine confectioners chocolate.

What a loser, you think. Though your smile betrays that thought.

You skip back to your work and suddenly, you aren’t so exhausted anymore.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Sweet on You, Chapter 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Story Summary: HERE

Warnings/Tags: Sugar Daddy!Matt Murdock, Idiots to Lovers, No Age Gap, Alternating PoV, No Use of Y/N

Word Count: ~1850

A/N: I had entirely too much fun writing the terms of Matt and Reader's contract, lol.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged in this or any of my other stories, please let me know!

Divider by @theradioactivespidergwen

Tag List (struck-through blogs could not be tagged): @danzer8705 @capylore @shouldbestudying41 @atemydadforbreakfast @peachy-flxwr @sleepysleepymom @fishinsuits @milkbummm @lazyxsquirrel @beezusvreeland @caughtthefever @bohemianrhapsody86

Thank God it's almost time to go, you thought to yourself as you began to get ready to leave work on Monday afternoon. Wish they'd hurry up and replace Roxy and Tabitha soon.

You had been one of three admin assistants until two months ago when Roxy, the junior admin who had told you about Sugar and Spice, had moved across the country for a job that would actually utilize her college degree, and Tabitha, a glorified intern with no administrative skills who you suspected had only been hired because one or more of the partners had thought she was hot, had gotten fired for showing up to work still wasted after a night of partying. Now you were on your own and doing the work of three people with no relief in sight.

From the moment you arrived at the office at 8 AM that morning until right then when it was time to leave you had been going non-stop. You had fielded phone calls, made appointments, arranged travel, greeted clients, fetched water and coffee, filed for permits, picked up lunch for all three partners from three different restaurants, ordered flowers for your actual boss's girlfriend's birthday, made copies, and printed and mailed invoices -- all with a smile on your face and without a word of thanks from anyone. 

Needless to say, you were looking forward to a drink and a nice, pleasant dinner that you didn't have to prepare yourself and could actually sit down and eat rather than have to quickly inhale like you had had to do with the sandwich you had procured from the deli down the street for lunch.

At 5 PM on the dot you shut down your computer and unlocked your desk drawer to grab your purse.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up before poking your head into your boss's office. “Hi, Mr. DiStefano, I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving for the day.”

“Okay,” Mr. DiStefano replied without looking up from the floor plans he was studying.

You waited for a moment to see if he was going to say ‘thank you, have a great evening ’ -- or anything else for that matter -- but he didn't. “Okay then, see you tomorrow.”

You stopped by the other two partners’ offices to let them know that you were leaving, receiving very much the same non-response from both.

You sighed as you left your office and headed towards Nelson, Murdock, and Page. You were feeling extremely unappreciated and underpaid, especially since you were now having to fill the admin assistant role for all 3 partners at once. Maybe it's time to start looking for another job…

You shook your head. You weren't going to even think about trying to find another job until after you got your mother's medical debt paid off. One thing at a time.

“--Yo, Matty, we hitting up Josie's tonight?”

Matt looked up and shook his head as Foggy stopped by his office. “Actually, I can't. I have plans after work.”

Foggy gasped. “Do you have a date ?”

He poked his head out of Matt's office. “ HEY KAREN, MATT HAS A DATE TONIGHT! ” he yelled down the hall.

Matt sighed. Here we go. He was glad that you and he had already come up with a cover story on how you had met so he wouldn't have to think of one on the spot.

“So, what's her name and how'd you meet her?” Foggy asked.

Matt said your name. “We met at The Brew Towers on Saturday.”

“Ooh, coffee shop meet-cute,” Karen gently teased as she joined him and Foggy in his office. “How romantic.”

“Yeah, tell us more,” Foggy added. “Did you spill your coffee on her? Accidentally grab each other's order? Brush hands across the condiment station?”

Matt chuckled. “Actually, we struck up a conversation while we both were waiting in line to order and since it was busy and tables were scarce we decided to sit together. We hit it off, so I asked her to have dinner with me tonight.”

“So where are you taking her?” 

“Okinawa.”

Foggy huffed out a laugh. “Ooh, fancy.” 

Matt shrugged. “It was close to the office.”

“What time are you meeting her there?” Karen asked.

Matt shook his head. “Actually, she's meeting me here in about 10 minutes and we're going to walk over together.” 

“Well, I'm really happy for you and I hope everything works out with her.”

“Yeah, same,” Foggy added. “It's good to see you putting yourself out there again, buddy.”

Matt inwardly cringed. After everything he, Foggy, and Karen had been through he hated lying to them, especially when they seemed so genuinely happy for him. “Thanks.”

“Guess it's just us at Josie's then, Kare. Let's go before she gets here -- I’m sure Matt doesn't want to scare her away by introducing her to us too soon.” Foggy rapped his knuckles on Matt's desk. “I expect a full report on your date tomorrow morning, Matthew.”

Matt chuckled with a nod. “Will do. ‘Night, guys.”

He waited until Foggy and Karen had left before pulling up his and your contract and printing copies in both standard and Braille print.

A few minutes later he heard your footsteps approaching the office, so he walked out into the lobby to greet you. 

“Hi, Matt,” you said as you entered.

“Hi,” Matt replied. “How are you?”

“I'm good, and you?”

“I'm good too, thanks.” Matt gestured towards his office. “Let's go to my office.”

He led you down the hall to his private office. “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? We have water, soda, tea, juice…”

“No, I'm okay,” you said as you sat. “Thank you though.”

Matt sat across from you. “Alright…”

He picked up the print copy of your contract and handed it to you. “Here’s the contract. I'll read through it, just let me know if you have any questions.”

“Okay.”

Matt cleared his throat and began to read. “Memorandum of Agreement. This memorandum of Agreement is made by and between Matthew M. Murdock and…”

He could hear your quiet, steady breathing as you followed along. He had tried to make the contract as simple and straightforward as possible in order to protect both himself and you.

“...Shall provide the following obligations,”  he continued. “Accompany Matthew to lunch and/or dinner at minimum twice weekly. Accompany Matthew to business-related events as requested with minimum 72 hours prior notice. Accompany Matthew to non-business events as requested, dependent on availability.”

“Wait, what does that last part mean?” you asked.

“Just that every once in a while I might ask you to do something with me that doesn't involve a sit-down meal,” Matt replied. “But also that I'm not going to make you drop everything just to have a cup of coffee or take a walk with me.”

“Oh, okay, that's fair.” You paused. “Sorry, go ahead.”

Matt nodded. “In exchange, Matthew shall provide the following obligations: Monthly stipend of $1,500 --”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted again. “We only agreed on a thousand a month.”

Matt shrugged. “Yeah, but I thought about it and decided that fifteen hundred was a more fair amount for your time.” Especially since you're using it to help your mother.

You sucked in a soft breath. “Oh.”

Matt could tell you were torn between arguing with him and just accepting the higher amount and waited until you decided which path to take. 

Finally, you sighed. “Okay.”

“Okay. ‘Payment for all outings and events, including but not limited to meals, beverages, gratuities, tickets, souvenirs, and gifts. In the event of a professional obligation, arrangement and payment for appropriate garments for said obligation. Accompaniment to requested events with minimum 72 hours prior notice, dependent on availability.” Matt paused. “I figure it's only fair in case you have a work event or something else you'd need a plus-one for.”

You huffed out a mirthless laugh. “Even though I have to plan and set them up I never get invited to actually attend any of DiStefano, Williams, and Abbott’s events, but that's good in case I ever do.”

Matt's brow furrowed at your slightly bitter tone. He'd have to find out more about your job. “Anyway, ‘Confidentiality: Each party shall treat as strictly confidential the nature of said Agreement as a result of entering into or performing duties outlined in this Agreement’. ”

“Snitches get stitches,” you quipped. “Or in this case, sued.”

Matt chuckled. “Relation of the Parties: The relationship between both parties is that of a platonic nature and of partners in a business transaction. No other nature of relationship is obligatory herewith.”

He continued on with the rest of the contract -- termination of the agreement (that either he or you could terminate the contract for any reason at any time with 30 days prior notice), remedies on default (that if one or both of you failed to perform your duties or otherwise broke a clause in the contract, the contract as a whole would be rendered null and void) and finally, amendments (that the contract could be amended at any time with the express written agreement of both you and Matt.)

“Governance: This contract shall be governed by and construed in accordance with the laws of the State of New York,” Matt concluded. “Signed by both parties stated here within and effective as of date first written above.”

He tilted his head back up towards you. “Everything sound fair to you?”

You were silent for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it's fair.”

“Okay then.” Matt handed you a pen and the second printed copy of the contract. “Just so we both have signed print copies.”

“Okay, yeah, no problem.” You signed your name on both copies of the contract. “Am I signing the Braille one too then?”

Matt nodded and handed you the Braille copy, quickly feeling the text below where your signature would go. “Sign right above here.”

“Okay.” You quickly signed your name. “All done.”

Matt signed his name on all three copies of the contract and set both his Braille and print copies into his desk drawer before locking it, then he folded your copy and put it into an envelope. “Here you go. Now that business is settled, how about we celebrate our new arrangement with some dinner?”

He heard you tuck your copy of the contract into your purse. “That sounds wonderful,” you replied.

Matt stood. “Shall we, then?”

He retrieved his coat from the coat rack and took his cane out of the inside pocket, then you both headed back towards the lobby.

Matt turned the lights off and opened the door for you. “After you.”

You stepped outside. “Thank you.”

Matt followed you outside then locked the door behind the two of you. “This way.”

You headed down the sidewalk to what Matt hoped was the first of many get-togethers, a comfortable silence between you.

[exorcqism]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘”

𝐂𝐖;; mature content. afab!reader, stoner!choso, non-curse/sorcerer AU, no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓;; choso had just gotten home from work, a pocket full of tips as usual. the male was pretty tired and he was ready to relax. he remembered that you wanted to watch a horror movie with him, so he made sure to make himself look less tired, swallowing his pride and fighting with his emotions. all for you. but once again…he can’t bring himself to do it. but what happens when he sees you with another man?

₊❏❜ ⋮ part two ⌒

. ݁ ࣪ ، ⌗ masterlist

⌗ ˖⃗ 穿血 —  𝒕.𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 @sad-darksoul @aiyaaayei @a1-ic3

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 2.2OK

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; ya don’t know how happy i am. my pretty princess choso is okay and now he havin girl problems in the story 😭 im glad ya liking this though. hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D (also lmk if you wanna be tagged for possible upcoming parts if i decide to continue)

another note: GO READ THIS and request more storiessss,, my writers block is kicking my ass

“come on, get to it,” choso clapped, trying to get yuji to make his way upstairs. the little boy sighed, getting off of the couch and going upstairs with his older brother still following.

“can’t i stay up for a couple more hours?” itadori tilted his head, looking up at choso. the male sighed.

“you have school and you need to be in bed,” choso advised. though, he was correct and he was just trying to help yuji, he wanted to keep up his plans with you instead of leaving you to watch the movie on your own. “i have a doctors appointment in the morning also. we should be going to sleep.”

“wait why, are you okay?”

“i’ll be okay. it’s just an annual. and you have one coming too, so be ready for that.” choso smiled at his little brother’s consideration for his health. the male picked yuji up and decided to tickle his sides, making the boy laugh loudly.

“okay, now get to bed,” choso announced abruptly, putting the boy back down onto the floor. like before, yuji threw his arms around choso, telling him good night and running up to his room.

after that, choso would take a shower, deciding that he’d wash his hair also. once he finished, he’d dry himself off, shivering from the cold air hitting his skin as he walked back to his room.

back in his room, choso would close the door and start to clean up. making his bed, reorganizing his closet and tossing out things that he deemed useless at the time.

he’d pull the towel from around his waist, leaving him exposed for a moment before he’d quickly put on some clothes. his usual grey joggers. he didn’t even bother putting on a shirt.

choso plopped down onto his bed, finally happy that he could relax. it wasn’t long before his eyes started to close and he drifted off to sleep.

the day’s events quickly faded into nothing but fragments of his memory. even his promises slipped his mind. the male was lying on his stomach, hugging his pillow as if he had nothing to worry about in life.

then it hit him.

his eyes snapped open and he quickly sat up on the bed, remembering you. choso just groaned. he didn’t want to think of you right now. especially when he was just trying to fight his emotions.

you were probably staring at your screen with a slightly disappointed expression when you realized that choso stood you up after nervously agreeing to watch a movie with you.

maybe you weren’t disappointed. you probably had a boyfriend to replace him if he didn’t follow through with his plans with you. he didn’t even know why he was so hung up on you. you had the poor boy losing his mind.

choso was eyeing his laptop that was sitting on the desk, thinking if he should do something to satisfy his worries—if he should call you again.

‘call her? i said that i would do it.’ he thought. ‘no, don’t do that. you’d be wasting your energy. she probably has a boyfriend….you got played…like a fucking idiot.’

choso was now staring at the ceiling with his music playing, smoking a blunt while tears of frustration began to form in his eyes.

he had never been in love before. if the concept was ever brought up to him, he’d shrug it off and not participate in the conversation because he doesn’t know what it feels like to be in a relationship.

this whole situation was upsetting him. it hadn’t even been a week yet and feelings were swelling up in his mind. maybe if he just skipped his break or kept quiet, he wouldn’t be feeling like this.

suddenly, he hears his door opening. as the entrance of his room opens, the smoke from his joint slip out.

“are you okay?” yuji asked. choso looked up, following the voice and tracing it back to his little brother. the male sighed and just took a drag of his joint.

“go to bed, yuji…” he mumbled.

yuji climbed into bed with choso and sat beside him. “how come you’re crying? i never seen you cry before.”

“i—no, you’re too young to understand it. i don’t wanna tell you and you don’t get it.” choso took a drag of his blunt again before wiping away his tears.

yuji went silent for a moment before speaking up again. “i can still listen. just tell me what’s wrong.” the small boy offered. choso looked down before taking a breath.

“i like this girl so much…” choso began, “but every time i wanna interact, i get nervous and i always think about the worst case scenario. another thing, i don’t have time to be in love with anyone. i’d probably be a horrible partner anyway.”

“was it the lady at the store?” yuji asked.

“yes…”

“i knew it. you do like her,” yuji smiled, “um…i think you should still talk to her. she’s really nice—and she smells like strawberries.”

‘how do you even remember that?’ choso grimaced.

“she probably has a boyfriend. it doesn’t matter…”

“did you ask her…?”

choso flushed, “no, i didn’t ask. i don’t wanna ask personal questions to somebody i just met…it’s weird.”

“ask her,” yuji said.

choso sighed and nodded, taking in the advice.

a week passed by and choso had been thinking for a while. no call from you and you got nothing from him. it was radio silence in both directions. it made him feel worse but better at the same time.

tonight, the male was working, showing off how good of a bartender he was with that stale expression on his face. this was the first time he had actually shown off his skill because he was terribly shy.

from a distance, he noticed you walking in with another guy. he wanted to laugh because he already knew that would happen.

‘i was right. my intuition almost never fails.’

choso started to feel the irritation rising up in him despite his dead expression. his body was hot with anger but pain because he knew he couldn’t react like the way he wanted…

because you weren’t together.

the slit across his nose that he was so insecure about, neatly covered with a bandage began to bleed. the thick crimson fluid streamed down his cheeks like tears and slowly down to his lips.

his fingers were stained with the crimson fluid once he touched his face. he quickly made his way to the bathroom, trying not to be seen by anyone.

he stared at himself in the mirror, blood still streaming down his face and hitting the counter as he desperately tried to clean the mess off of his face.

suddenly the door opens. choso covered his nose again with a tissue when he turned around and spotted you walking in. the two of you made eye contact.

“what happened, are you okay?” you walked up to choso and you were about to take him by his wrists to move his hands that had been covering his bloody nose but it was obvious that he didn’t want you to see that.

‘please don’t…’

“nothing—it’s…just a nose bleed.” choso was still covering his nose, blood now streaming down his hands, making a bit more of a mess. you managed to move his hands, revealing the cut that he was so insecure about. you could see his cheeks reddening out of embarrassment now that you seen the one thing that he had been hiding from the world.

you would grab some face wipes from your purse and you bring choso down to your level to wipe the crimson fluid from his face, flinching as the cool wipe traveled over the bridge of his nose.

“sorry,” you whispered.

“no, it’s fine…i think.” choso replied lowly.

“are you sure this is just a regular nose bleed? this is so bad. i never seen somebody bleed this hard unless they busted their ass on the sidewalk.” you comment as you take a bandage out and sticking it onto the bridge of his nose like before.

“it happens all the time, i’m fine.” he replies. “that’s part of the reason why i keep it covered up.”

choso looked down and realized that you were holding his hands now but it was only because you had been wiping the blood off of them.

“you should probably go home, right? you don’t wanna have blood everywhere and then you pass out.” you say. “that’ll be a bit embarrassing."

when choso heard your giggling to lighten up the mood, he smiled a little—it was an awkward smile. the male didn’t smile too often in public or in general. the action felt so foreign to him.

“yeah, i think i’ll go home for the night,” choso says. “and i’m sorry i didn’t call you the other night…i just got-” he stops talking, thinking of a proper word to say. choso didn’t wanna tell you the whole truth just yet. “i just got wrapped up in my head that’s all. i overthink a lot.”

“oh, no. it’s okay, i understand. i was looking forward to talking to you again but i didn’t wanna be a bother because you just seem like a busy guy. always working and taking care of your little brother.” your hands slowly release choso’s and once again, you’re making eye contact with him. you blink when you find yourself looking at his lips.

“yeah…that too-” choso mumbled, “thank you for understanding. i mean, we haven’t spoken for a week, i thought you’d be mad at me.”

“no, i’m not mad.” you said, a bit stunned that he would even think that you were angry at him. “it’s my fault, i probably should’ve checked on you sooner instead of leaving you to your thoughts.”

“i don’t really mind is okay.” choso mumbled.

“hey, how about we do that movie night tonight? i haven’t watched it by myself yet.” you offer, smiling a little.

“you aren’t gonna have that guy there with you, right?” he said quietly. you look behind you and smiled.

“nah, he’s just a friend. don’t worry about that, we’ll have our time together.” you assured. behind your reply, you were a bit surprised to hear him ask about the guy you came to the bar with. though you didn’t have any feelings towards the guy, he definitely liked you.

hence why you’re on this “date” with him….

“i’ll see you after work, then.” choso said and you nodded.

“aw, i thought you were going home.” you teased.

“i gotta feed the house,” choso replied as he began to walk towards the bathroom door. “i can’t come home empty handed.”

and with that, he exited the bathroom.

eventually, you do the same, waving to choso as he made drinks at the bar area. he’d pause for a moment to wave back at you, making you smile.

later that night, choso gets on facetime with you again with a cigarette between his lips. he had on a white shirt with a pair of basketball shorts. his hair wasn’t tied up like he had it all the time. it was down.

the two of you were watching a movie called ‘pearl’, which you suggested because you wanted to have an arsenal of movies before your night ended. you didn’t wanna just watch ‘midsommar’ and hang up.

“she fucked her momma up, not gone lie.” you comment as you watched the movie. choso was pretty immersed, eyes wide was he watched the murder of the main character’s mother.

“yeah…that’s kinda fucked up.” choso mumbled. the male threaded his fingers through his hair and took a drag from his cigarette, trying to keep himself awake.

“oh! that reminds me,” you start, pausing the movie just as the next scene began to play. “there’s a halloween party next week because you know….doesn’t that sound fun? you wanna come?”

“oh—no, i can’t. i have to work and the neighbors aren’t gonna be able to watch yuji because they’re going on a trip and they won’t be back until the second week of november…i don’t have anyone to take care of him.” choso explained, his answer prolonging as more reasons to not go to said party started to come up. you smile at his reaction.

“come on, kids his age will be there. it’s not like it’s a full on adult party. the kids’ll be upstairs and we’ll be downstairs having our fun. and you told me your boss is a chill dude, he should be fine with you calling off.”

“well—well, yeah, i guess but i don’t have a costume and i don’t go to parties. it’ll be awkward and i’ll wanna go home and—”

“choso,” you interject, “it’s okay. just stick by me and when you feel the need to, you can check on yuji. and you have time to find a costume, trust me. so…do you wanna come?”

choso put the cigarette back between his lips and sighed, rethinking all the possibilities and the pros of going to this party.

“um…yeah, sure. i’ll come.”

“good,” you smile before unpausing the movie.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[hairstevington]

Stranger Therapy

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Based on this text post, Steve and Eddie match on Tinder and decide to go to couple's counseling on a first date to see how long it takes the therapist (Murray) to figure them out. Link to Ao3

Word Count: 3K, check out part 2 part 3 part 4 and epilogue!

Warnings: Nothing too serious, Steve/Eddie went to high school together but don't know each other, modern day AU, aged up, brief Robin cameo, Matchmaker Murray, and my fav tag of all - gay scheming!

A/N: I'm a counselor in training currently but I don't specialize in couple's counseling so this may or may not be accurate? Idk man it's just fun and silly I love our stupid boys sm. Original post by @hxneyfarms

It’s a match!

“Robin, it worked!” Steve shouted from the couch. She ran from the kitchen and joined him, peering over to stare at his screen.

“I told you it would! It’s funny!” she insisted. Steve rolled his eyes and anxiously pulled up the profile of his new match. 

“Oh, shit,” Steve said. “I remember swiping right on this guy. Didn’t think I had a shot.” He looked through the pictures. They were all candids, slightly blurry, or shots of him with his friends, but due to his distinguished look it was easy to pick him out even in a crowd. 

“Show me his bio,” Robin ordered. Steve closed out the pictures and scrolled until the bio was in full view.

Eddie, 25. Shit at bios.

“Well that’s kind of boring,” Steve said. 

“Yeah. You think he’s a bot?” Robin asked.

 “Or a catfish, maybe,” Steve mused. “Either way, I still think I should take your joke down. I don’t talk like that in real life, and people might get confused.”

Robin had convinced him earlier to change his bio and replace it with - let’s go to couple’s counseling and see how long it takes the therapist to realize we don’t know each other. Steve had been a little tipsy when he agreed, and he assumed nothing would come of it. But then, Eddie matched with him. 

“You’re thinking way too hard about this, Dingus,” Robin replied. “People write weird shit in their Tinder bios all the time.” 

“Eddie didn’t,” Steve countered. 

“Yeah, but look at him,” Robin responded. “He’s distinctive. It’s attention-grabbing in itself.”

“And I’m not?” Steve asked. Robin chuckled.

“You’re the kind of pretty where if you don’t have something witty in the bio, people will think you’re just some ignorant surface-level airhead who’s never worked a day in his life, and that’s not cute.”

“Okay, ouch,” Steve said. 

“It’s a compliment!” she insisted. “Like, you need to show that you’re witty and funny and able to poke fun at yourself, otherwise you’re going to attract the wrong kind of people.”

“And this guy’s the right kind, huh?” Steve opened one of the pictures back up - one where Eddie was passed out on the couch with a beer still in his hand. As they looked at the screen, a notification popped up. Eddie sent you a message.

“Let’s find out,” Robin said. 

-

Eddie: If your bio is serious, I’m in

Steve: Wait, really?

Eddie: Yeah xD sounds fun

Eddie: You got a therapist in mind?

Steve: Honestly didn’t think I’d get this far

Eddie: Boo. 

Eddie: You’re lucky I know just the guy

Steve: Okay…

Steve: So how do we do this?

Eddie: Dude, it was YOUR idea

Steve: Ok but I’ve never done it before!

Eddie: Steve! I’m your first? <3

Steve: Yeah, yeah. I’ve never pranked a therapist before. 

Eddie: I hope you’re either rich or have really good insurance. Otherwise this is gonna be an expensive first date.

Steve: I got it covered. 

Eddie: I figured you did. I’ll call the guy in the morning and get back to you with the appointment time. 

Steve: Okay. How’s your night going by the way?

Eddie: Nope!

Eddie: That’s not part of the deal, Steve. We go into this blind or not at all.

Steve: This is insane.

Eddie: Once again, your idea. I’m excited. Are you excited?

Steve: Thrilled.

Steve: I’m still concerned about how you know the perfect guy for this.

Eddie: 😛

Eddie: Don’t worry about it.

-

“I don’t even think he’s serious,” Steve said after he recounted the entire interaction to Robin.

“I don’t know, Steve. Sounds serious to me.” 

“What if he’s like - not right in the head?” Steve wondered, reading the interaction over and over again. “Like, who is this therapist and why does he know him? Is he actually going to make an appointment? What if this whole thing crashes and burns?”

“I honestly think he plans on it crashing and burning,” Robin replied. “And then after, the both of you either hit it off and laugh about it forever, or you have an amazing failed date story to tell your friends until the end of time.”

“That’s…actually genius.” 

“I know.” 

Steve read the messages one last time, focusing on the bits where Eddie was mildly flirtatious. Steve! I’m your first? He could tell if Eddie was being condescending, or what vibe he was going to bring to this absolute insane first date. But, as Robin said, it would be a story no matter what. 

He tried to focus on that and not the anxiety that started brewing in his veins.

-

The appointment was set for two weeks later. Eddie still refused to talk to Steve other than for details on where to go and at what time, so for the whole fourteen days, Steve assumed he was being pranked right back. Eddie was messing with him, or he’d cancel, or Dr. Bauman didn’t actually exist, or he’d be murdered, or, or, or -

None of that happened. Instead, on a Tuesday afternoon, Steve pulled up to an office building about fifteen minutes from his apartment. He’d passed by it several times and never once wondered what went on inside. 

Apparently, really weird first dates.

They had decided to meet up in the parking lot and walk in together. The whole thing was crazy, but having one of them pick the other up so they could drive in together was way over what was needed to commit to the bit. 

Steve got there first. They needed to be fifteen minutes early to fill out paperwork. It was twenty minutes prior to their appointment time. 

This was weird. It felt a lot different than all the times he’d met someone for coffee. In another world, that’s how he and Eddie would have met. But no. He had to agree to this stupid thing, and now he was too far into it to back out. Jesus Christ. 

Eddie’s car pulled in a few spaces down. Steve knew it was him from the hair alone - unmistakable. He got out of his car and walked towards his date, his palms sweaty. Eddie got out of his car a moment later, eyeing Steve as he approached him and smirking. 

“What gave me away?” Eddie asked. 

“You think I wouldn’t recognize my boyfriend?” Steve snapped back, pleased at the way he was able to take Eddie off guard. 

“Touche. Well, come on, then. Let’s do this.” 

-

Before they knew it, they were sitting in a cramped waiting room, alone, filling out paperwork. It consisted of insurance information first, followed by names and some quick background questions about the “couple.” Steve began filling it out, thankful that he was still on his dad’s fancy rich-person insurance. It covered basically everything, even fucked-up couples fraud with Dr. Bauman.

“Are you not worried I’m gonna, like, steal your information or something?” Eddie asked as Steve wrote down his policy number.

“I mean…should I be?” Steve responded. 

“No,” Eddie answered with a shrug. “I gotta say, though, you’re way more trusting than I am. It’s ballsy. I like it.” 

“Uhh…” Steve was trying to concentrate on the paperwork, but the compliment was throwing him off. “Thank you, I think.” He continued filling out the paperwork.

“You’re from Hawkins?” he asked. Steve nodded, absentmindedly. “I’m from Hawkins.” This caught Steve’s attention. 

“No shit.” 

“Yeah, seriously.”

“Small world,” Steve replied before turning his attention back to the form.

“You have a cute middle name,” Eddie teased. 

“Shut up,” Steve responded. He wanted to find Eddie’s pestering annoying, but instead he found himself smirking, even giggling a little bit. This whole thing was so ridiculous. He shoved the clipboard onto Eddie’s lap. “Your turn, lover.”

“Euch,” Eddie groaned. “That is not one of our pet names, no way.” 

“Noted,” Steve chuckled. He was…kind of enjoying this way more than he expected, as weird as it was. He’d grown accustomed to a lot of even stranger things in his life, so this didn’t feel as shocking as he’d initially thought. 

“Don’t look,” Eddie said as he covered the paper.

“What? Why not?” Steve asked, confused. 

“Because not all of us are as blindly trusting, Steven,” Eddie responded. Steve shook his head and looked away. 

“Good thing we’re in therapy to work that shit out, Edward Munson.”

“You looked!” Eddie exclaimed. 

“It was right in front of me!” Steve pointed out. 

“Fair enough,” Eddie sighed. “Okay, now we gotta put down a reason for doing this.”

-

Fast forward ten minutes, Eddie and Steve were seated next to each other on a relatively small but cozy burnt orange couch. The color was ugly, but the seats were comfortable. Steve noticed the cushions had a natural dip that kept inching him closer to the person sitting on the opposite side. He figured this was certainly intentional. 

The doctor sat in front of them, reviewing the papers the pair had just filled out.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Bauman, and one day I may let you call me Murray,” he began, his eyes fixed on the papers in front of him. “I see here on your sheet that you’ve been feeling distant from each other, and that you’re looking to feel more connected, right? Can you tell me more about that?”

“We’re just launching right into it, huh?” Eddie asked. 

“Well, we are on a time crunch here. Your decision how you spend it,” Dr. Bauman answered. 

The man was immediately intimidating.

“Ooookay,” Steve said, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess it just feels like - like he and I don’t even know each other anymore.” Eddie stifled a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand to make it seem like he was maybe getting emotional or perhaps trying not to sneeze. 

“I see,” Dr. Bauman said, eyeing them both suspiciously. “Let’s begin with how you two met and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“We were high school sweethearts,” Eddie replied with a grin.

“Wow,” Dr. Bauman commented. “Well, it’s common for a lot of development to happen from then to now. How did you two get together?” Eddie looked to Steve, as if to say, you’re up.

“It just kinda…happened, I guess,” Steve began. “We were assigned as partners for a project and really clicked.”

“Yeah, and then we snuck around for a while. Sneaking kisses in janitor's closets and empty classrooms, you know the drill.” Steve tried not to blush at the thought of sneaking around with high school Eddie. If they were both from Hawkins, did they actually go to high school together?

“Snuck around for the thrill?” Dr. Bauman asked.

“No,” Steve responded. “I wasn’t out yet.” Eddie looked at him curiously, as if he wasn’t expecting Steve to say something so serious. He wondered if it was actually true. 

“Well, that and -” Eddie added. “- he was a popular jock and I was kind of a freak.” This time, Steve looked at Eddie curiously. Steve was a popular jock. Eddie could have assumed that, or made a lucky guess, but something told him that wasn’t the case. 

Eddie Munson. Munson. 

Oh.

Oh!

It took Steve a minute to recover from that information. They did in fact go to school together, they just had never interacted. Eddie obviously remembered, and he obviously knew that Steve didn’t. So what was the goal here? Was Steve being punked or something just so Eddie could get free therapy?

“Steve, you look a little pale there,” Dr. Bauman noticed. “Did that trigger something?”

“Yeah -” Steve croaked, now unable to look at Eddie. If he had, he would have noticed Eddie didn’t look as smug as Steve assumed he was. “Yeah, I just don’t think about high school that much anymore.”

“Why not?” the doctor asked. 

“Because, I - I’ve changed so much since then. I’m not that guy anymore, and I don’t want to be that guy.”

“Ah, I see,” he hummed. “So, Eddie fell for someone who no longer exists. I think I’m understanding the problem here. Eddie, do you feel that you’ve changed?”

Damn. This guy’s kinda good.

“Uhhh -” Eddie began. Neither of them expected this to get so serious so quickly. It didn’t even feel like it was about their imagined relationship anymore. “N-no, I don’t think I have.”

“And Steve, do you think Eddie has changed?”

Steve thought about the limited memories he had of Eddie in high school. Cocky, slightly unhinged, just as he was now. But there was something different, he just couldn’t really pinpoint what. Maybe if he’d talked to Eddie for longer than like ten minutes total in his life, he’d have a better idea. 

Then, he realized the point of this wasn’t to be serious. It was to make shit up. Steve pivoted back to the original plan. 

“Yeah, I mean -” He shifted in his seat, finding himself now thigh to thigh with Eddie, despite not meaning to be. “He’s, uh - it just feels like we don’t have anything in common anymore?” It was something he’d heard lots of couples say.

“Do you want to make this work?” Dr. Bauman asked. 

“Why else would we be here?” Eddie answered. Dr. Bauman narrowed his eyes. 

“You tell me.”

Eddie and Steve were kind of not good at this. Their story was based in truth and not very exciting. They both seemed to realize this at the same time.

“Steve slept with the dogwalker,” Eddie proclaimed. Steve scoffed, half-amused, half-offended. 

“Yeah, well you sold drugs to my mom!” he shot back. The two guys looked at each other, pretending to look angry while simultaneously wanting to laugh. 

“Woooah, there,” Dr. Bauman responded. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Do we want to begin with Steve’s infidelity or Eddie’s illegal activity?”

“That’s not gonna, like, go on record or anything, right?” Steve asked, suddenly anxious. “Like, the cops aren’t gonna show up at Eddie’s door?”

“Our door, babe,” Eddie clarified, not the least bit nervous. 

“Depends on how long ago this happened, I suppose,” Dr. Bauman answered.

“Long time ago,” Eddie said. 

“Are you still currently dealing?”

“No, I don’t even do drugs anymore. Well, like, except pot - but that’s legal now so it doesn’t really count, I think.”

“Dude,” Steve whispered. 

“You brought it up,” Eddie replied just as softly. 

“Right,” Dr. Bauman responded, taking it all in. “No report needed, then. Let’s move onto the dogwalker.” 

They continued to add to their lore as the appointment went on. At one point, Eddie even faked tears. His acting was…decent enough to avoid suspicion, thankfully. When the clock hit 1:45, their time was up, and they’d successfully managed to fool Dr. Bauman. Mission accomplished, date over. Right?

“Well, thank you so much, Dr. Bauman,” Eddie said. “I think you’ve really helped us out today.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Steve said, smiling. “We feel so much better.”

“Now hold on a minute,” Dr. Bauman said with his hands up. “There’s still a lot of work to be done, in my professional opinion.”

“There is?” Eddie asked, confused. 

“Oh, definitely. Most couples go to a minimum of four sessions, and that’s still a low average. Plus, this was only intake. I mean, unless you guys weren’t happy with the counseling I gave you today…”

It felt like a challenge, and Eddie loved challenges. Meanwhile, Steve was too awkward to come clean or tell the doctor they weren’t interested. 

They made another appointment.

-

“Well, that went pretty well, I think,” Eddie said as they left the building. 

“You knew me already?” Steve asked once they were a safe enough distance from the office and Dr. Bauman. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just knew your name and face, man. And, like, your vibe,” Eddie answered. “Back in high school, anyway.” 

“You should have told me,” Steve said. 

“You should have remembered,” Eddie shot back. “Whatever, it was fun. Right?”

“Eddie, I have no idea what that was,” Steve replied. “We have to cancel that appointment.”

“Why? You don’t want to see me again?” Eddie grinned. Steve rolled his eyes.

“No, I - I mean, I don’t want to waste his time. That spot should go to other couples who need it. Meanwhile, we could go get coffee like normal adults.” 

“I dunno,” Eddie said, kicking a pebble in the road as they walked. “I kinda liked it. You can’t tell me you didn’t.”

It was true. Steve couldn’t say that he didn’t.

“Doesn’t matter.” Steve unlocked his car and made his way to the door. “We’re canceling.”

“He’s the one that wanted to see us again, Steve,” Eddie reminded him. 

“Yeah, because he thought we were an actual couple.” Steve was getting frustrated at Eddie’s antics, and the way he refused to back down. “I don’t know if this is gonna work, man. This has been, uh - well, it’s been weird, but I think -”

“We have to go, otherwise you’ll be charged a cancellation fee,” Eddie blurted out. It was a lie, a bold-faced lie, and yet -

“So, I’ll pay the fee. Can’t be more than the cost of a full session,” Steve figured. 

“Ugh!” Eddie groaned in frustration. “Okay, fine. Look - I’m annoying as hell, I’m a mess, I’m broke, and I could never afford someone like Dr. Bauman. I don’t know about you, but some of the things he said actually made me think and I kind of want to ask him about, like, real shit.” 

Steve stared at him blankly for a minute. 

“You - you want me to keep going to fake couple’s counseling with you so you can get actual therapy?” Steve asked, stunned. 

“I mean, you could work your shit out, too,” Eddie suggested.

“What shit? I don’t have shit,” Steve insisted. 

“Of course you do! Everyone does!” Eddie yelled. 

“You’re insane,” Steve muttered. The thing was, he wasn’t saying it out of anger. He was saying it in understanding. 

Because the thing was, Eddie had a point. Dr. Bauman was good at what he did, and Steve knew he’d never sign up for individual counseling. He already had the appointment. Eddie smirked. 

“You’re with me, aren’t you?”

Fuck.

“Fine,” Steve agreed. 

-

Notes from Dr. Bauman - 3/18

Eddie and Steve

Together since high school

Feelings of disconnect

Steve/dogwalker

Eddie/mom/drugs

Clearly lying

Clients are faking their relationship for me, for some reason. Will continue to work with them to figure out why. 

They aren’t dating…but they should be

(next chapter)

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

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[sunsents]

neteyam sully - drunken confessions

I saw a fic where yn gets drunk and confesses to Neteyam, but I truly have no idea whose it was nor was I able to find it. For that, I apologize. If you're that author, or if anyone knows who that is author is please tag them in the comments so that I can give the right credits.

➵ summary: Fed up with your platonic feelings towards Neteyam Sully, you decide to let loose during a festival. Never would you have guessed your drunken state would decide to take matters into her own hands and deal with your feelings personally.

➵ pairing: (aged!up)neteyam x fem!reader(no use of y/n)

➵ word count: 3.8k

➵ warnings: alcohol consumption, one kiss, fluff

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

"Who wants another kiss!"

Yelling to no one in particular, you slur your words together as your drink sloshes in the wooden cup - darn whoever let you have it in the first place. When you bring the bowl to your lips, you frown. "Who..." You blink, though it’s obscenely uncoordinated. "Who drank my drink?"

Neteyam doesn't know what's worse; the fact that you think someone would dare to drink out of your cup, or that you have no idea it was you who sabotaged the evening by spilling the contents of your drink.

"Bro, you have got to try this!"

Lo'ak holds two bowls filled with something - the fumes hit your nose and your face pinches in disgust. It's pungent and positively putrid—no sane Na’vi would look at the liquid and immediately think ‘I’m going to put this in my mouth.’ 

You survey the boy with questioning eyes, then scan the clearing. 

Tsireya was finally of age and appointed as Tsahik, which prompted a lively celebration filled generously with roaring music, food, and alcohol. Ronal, the previous clan tsahik, had decided to leave her place for the younger woman to spend her days enjoying the fruits of domestic bliss with her elder husband, Tonowari. 

You're delighted, of course. As is anyone in the clan. Tsireya had been your closest friend since birth when she pulled on your kuru and you pulled on hers - grabby hands aching to get ahold of anything and possibly everything as a youngling.

Lo'ak is beaming as he looks at you, it's almost blinding. "Eh, why not." you relent, taking the bowl from his hand.

The boisterous atmosphere is accompanied by a majestic fire that lights up the eclipse sky. People are dancing and having fun in the golden glow of it all - everything is so warm that you're feeling heaps more open-minded than at any other time. 

Lo'ak smirks at you before downing his drink in one gulp. Impressed, you follow suit. The liquid burns your throat and you can't help but cough, had you bitten off more than you could chew?

You were of age, no one would be there to chastise you, a grown woman, for drinking. The only worry that plagued your mind was embarassing yourself.

Whether you liked it or not, Neteyam Sully would always be there to catch you in your most embarassing moments to poke fun. This time around would surely be nothing different. 

You huff, not allowing him to consume your thoughts. No, you were going to enjoy yourself tonight and celebrate your best friend's success.

Determined, you march up to the large table where drinks are being presented. "Lo'ak," you call out, firm. "I bet I can outdrink your scrawny ass."

You did outdrink Lo'ak. Then Tikanu, and Rotxo. Perhaps Aonung was also involved at some point, and then some.

You can’t think straight when you're drunk off of your teal-blue ass and swaying gently to the music. It's consuming and frankly, you don't have the decorum to care about the quality of your moves. It's a sway of hips, a clash of limbs - the closing of your eyes and the humming of your throat. Other people are no better, you're sure. Lo'ak passed out hours ago, then got found by a very angry Tsireya. The man was pure pleas and apologies, even mushier when drunk.

"____?"

The deep treble of his voice replaces the music you feel deep in your bones. "Neteyam!"

You giggle obscenely and fuck, sober you is going to be so embarrassed tomorrow. But drunk you is a piece of shit - a force of Eywa that cannot be reckoned with. With your hands in the air, you lunge into Neteyam's arms. He catches you with an oomph. 

"What-" he clears his throat. "Are you drunk?" 

You frown as you clumsily part from him. "No, I'm ____. “

As he waits for your next drunken action, you manage to think of a joke rather than say it. It’s funny enough to make you laugh loudly, but not so much that you verbally announce it to the man before you. 

Neteyam merely looks at you with amusement.

"Sorry, Made a joke..." you mumble with a giggle. "T'was funny."

He waits expectantly.

You blink at him. "Pretty..."

He chuckles lowly and crosses his arms on his chest. “I think we should get you home, hm?”

In your hazed mind, Neteyam has a halo around him. With feathers in his hair, fresh tattoos on his smooth skin, and a strong frame covered in accessories, he's glowing like the morning sun. You shout excitedly, feeling all too happy for him. "I'm gonna kiss you, I think."

At least you had the decency to warn the poor man before you grab his cheeks with wide palms and smash your lips onto his. It's vulgar and wet, you feel him freeze in your hold. You swear you hear him groan, melting forward before he quickly snaps back.

"Oh-kay, you're definitely drunk. Come one, up up, we're taking you home." He’s about to lift you with an arm behind your knees and the small of your back before you push his chest. 

"No!" You whine, then turn around all too suddenly. Your vision scrambles to catch up with the sudden change. "Who wants another kiss!"

When a huddle of men perk up in interest - all drunk and ravenous, Neteyam lets out a growl that surprises himself. He takes a deep breath, counts to ten, then breathes out.

Ketu'ney, a clan warrior known for his rich plays in hunting parties steps forward. "I would," he smirks, all too proud.

"Oh! Me too, me too!" Kiri, drunk and bouncing on the soles of her feet, comes forward. 

"Everyone gets a kiss!" You declare happily.

"Oh no you don't."

Neteyam grabs you by the hips and slings you over his shoulder like a sack. "We're going to your kelku, and you're putting your ass to bed."

If you were any less drunk, you would be embarrassed by the position he has you in. But you're not, dramatically waving to your friend as a parting gesture. They wave back just as enthusiastically, a little confused but spirited nonetheless.

You feel the buzz of Neteyam's chuckle on your thighs; he's got them pressed to his chest so you don't slide down. Slung over his shoulder, you decide to enjoy the view of his back rather than complain. "Nice," you smirk, peering down further.

"Are you looking at my ass, ____?" Neteyam asks, entirely amused.

"No, it's looking at me."

Neteyam barks out a laugh - it bubbles from his chest and rasps out of his throat. Your heart flutters just a little, he had such an attractive laugh. His face was entirely his mother, and so was his determination, strong mind, and free spirit. Yet he also had the stubbornness and the laugh of his father. You knew it would be a combination that would cause your downfall.

You are falling, you realize. Neteyam has deposited you on your nest like some weight he needs to take care of. You groggily look around and realize you're in your kelku. 

Inhaling deeply, you let out a huff of air with lidded eyes. "Can I go to sleep now, please and thank you,"

Neteyam sits down next to you with a soft hand on your shoulder. Through your hazed view, you realize he's smiling. "Alright sweet girl, let's sleep this off."

You nod, looking around for no particular reason. The kelku feels all the more warm and homely with Neteyam in it, or perhaps the alcohol in your system pushes you to entertain a false domestic fantasy with the only man you've ever pined after.

He smooths down your hair gently, "If you feel like puking, just tap my shoulder." He gets up and grabs an old wooden bin, then sets it beside the nest. "Water..." he mutters to himself.

You lazily watch as he moves around the room in search of something. With narrowed eyes, he comes back with a bowl of water. 

You reach out, (way too off in your aim, Neteyam has to guide your hand) and slowly gulp the liquid down before collapsing. "Feel so bad...ugh," you drawl off, smacking your lips as sleep dances around your lips. "I wanna go swim, I think."

You feel him settle beside you in the nest. His arm reaches back and pulls you into his warmth. As he traces a plethora of shapes on your skin, the urge to close your eyes becomes undeniable. "Just go to sleep ___, you'll feel better in the morning."

"No," you whine, fighting for consciousness, "Wanna...fine."

Promptly closing your eyes, you turn the other way and huff into the silence.

When sunlight invades through the flap of your kelku, you have the audacity to mumble a 'fuck off'. 

Sharp pain shoots through your spine and lingers in your head. The intensity of it throbs your scalp and muffles your ears. Groaning, you try to get a grasp of why the fuck you feel like dying.

Lo'ak, alcohol, Neteyam. 

Slowly but surely, the events come back and you regret welcoming them into your consciousness. You frantically look around, eyes landing on Neteyam across the marui, dicing fruit and mincing some kind of herb. His ears flicker, golden eyes darting to your face. "Good morning to you too," he smiles, sitting comfortably on the back of his heels, his strong thighs supporting his weight and looking entirely like his father.

You're hot - the realization sinks your heart until it hits rock bottom. Embarrassment floods through you like a tidal wave and oh Eywa - you want nothing more than to curve into yourself until you become a small pebble and get lost in the ocean. 

You had thrown yourself at him like some desperate fool, which forced him to take responsibility for your stupid, drunk self—Eywa knows what embarassing secrets you told him. You remember the major events - being offered drinks, challenging unlucky bystanders, dancing, and trying to kiss anything and anyone. The rest and the in-betweens are mind-boggling blurs because your headache won't let you think.

"Morning," you croak, then reach for the bowl of water on the side of your nest. The cold liquid tastes like gold running down your throat - when had water ever tasted this good? You moan involuntarily, gulping it down like a quenched woman left in the dune for days. The liquid dribbles down your chin and you're far too thirsty to care. 

When you put the bowl down, you're even more embarrassed than before by the look Neteyam gives you. He grins, "How are you feeling, more water?"

You're a little shy now, smiling and looking away. "No, thank you," you murmur, folding your hands on your lap primly. The properness of the action almost makes you laugh—it was only yesterday you were going around kissing people, throwing yourself onto Neteyam, and wreaking havoc across the village. It's almost humbling; you have no idea how to bounce back from the hole you've buried yourself in. Neteyam is Toruk Makto's son, and lest the sky people hadn’t disturbed the peace, he would be Olo'Eyktan of Omaticaya. His status is humbling enough that you fight the urge to bow your head down and apologize for the inconvenience. 

But you don't. Not when you've known him for seven years (more of admired him from a distance, with the occasional small talk because of obligation - on his part, you were friends with half his family, after all) and saw each other enough to be called acquaintances. Though, you would always be Lo'ak's friend who encourages dumb decisions, Tsireya's other close friend besides Rotxo and Pewli, or Kiri's weaving partner. Nothing more, nothing less. 

"Ma ___?" he addresses, and it takes too much of you to control your flushed state. 

"Oh," you make a surprised noise, "Sorry, my head hurts."

He gathers his trinkets and squats next to your nest, "Here."

"What is it?" you tilt your head, nostrils flaring. "Smells weird."

"It's medicine for your hangover," he quips, getting impatient.

You scrunch your face in disgust, "No way I'm drinking that, it smells like Ilu waste."

"Will you just drink it," he sighs, shoving the cup to your face.

You're quick to turn away, mussed morning hair flying with your movement. "No,"

"Stop being so stubborn," - you turn your head to the other side when he makes an effort to follow your lips with the cup. "You're worse than Tuk," he grumbles, fighting for your submission. With a final huff, he grabs your face, smushes your cheeks together, and drains the liquid down the opening your puffed lips prompted. It seems practiced, this action; you can only guess how persistently Tuk fights against medicine she doesn't particularly enjoy. You choke, having no choice but to swallow the horrible abomination. 

"You're like a baby," he grunts, "that wasn't so bad, now was it?"

"It was," you croak. "Blech,"

Neteyam chuckles all the same, then stands up to wash the used cups and bowls. Guilt squeezes your chest, not only because he was washing your dishes and taking care of you, but because you were enjoying it. You were having a glimpse of what life could be with Neteyam - waking up to him making you breakfast, taking care of you when you make idiotic decisions, watching him carry out household tasks like it's the most natural thing. 

"Neteyam," you call out. "Please, you don't have to do that.". 

He makes no indication of stopping his tidying anytime soon - tidying your kelku, like he also lived here and had to have it uncluttered. You slowly get up, conscious of your headache that seems to be dulling away, then slowly patter your way to him. Ear tips catching fire, you put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Please."

He stops his cleaning and crosses his arms. "This place is a mess, ____. "

"I wasn't expecting guests," you grumble, putting away the utensils in their appointed baskets. "Look, I want to apologize for yesterday."

"It's- it's fine. Really," he shakes his head.

"No, it isn't fine. I made a huge fool of myself - Eywa, I'm so embarrassed." you groan. "You even took care of me which is just so nice. You really didn't have to,"

He smirks, "I couldn't let you roam around drunk, kissing everyone on sight."

With a painful groan, you hide your face between your palms. It seems Neteyam was determined to rub salt in your wound.

"You're fine, ____. " he drawls only a little to emphasize that you really were fine, because he made sure you were, crossing his arms and facing you fully. "Everyone else was just as drunk, Kiri could barely hold her head up."

You nod, guilt still lingering behind your shoulder, and peering at Neteyam. In your checklist of 'things to apologize for', the next line was going to be a dreadful experience - located right next to apologize to anyone else you possibly might have kissed. Taking a deep breath, the words. "I'm sorry I kissed you," is blurted in one breath. 

You watch Neteyam's ear twitch, and his eyes widen. With a soft chuckle, he takes his sweet time coming up with a response. Your heart pounds in your chest and you hope he can't hear it as well - which was doubtful since it was beating for him. His laugh sinks the soles of your feet down into the marui floor, readying to plummet you down when he eventually rejects you and tells you it was like kissing his baby sister's weird friend. Because while you had your fair share of friends, Neteyam always caught you at your worst. 

You have to shake your head for the images to stop playing; when you were talking to Kiri, who was blocked out of view by a huge palm tree and thus, made you appear as though you were having casual conversation with yourself - Neteyam and Lo'ak were passing by, and were kind enough to ignore you out of pity, (Lo'ak laughed about it for days until his mother had to intervene). Or when horrid-smelling seaweed got stuck to your Iknimaya outfit during the ceremony, which caused the stench to stick to your skin during the festival. When Neteyam approached you to celebrate your adulthood, he was holding his nose with watery eyes. 

Worst of all, whenever he was around, you became this clumsy, uncoordinated mess. You were either breaking something, tripping on something, or saying something you shouldn't be saying. 

Thankfully, Neteyam's voice seems to stop the images. "You do not have to apologize for that," he winces, narrowing his eyes while averting his gaze.

You gulp, "Oh, okay." your voice sounds unlike your own. "Why?"

"You were drunk and unconscious of your actions," he says firmly.

"But I overstepped my boundaries," you continue, fighting your case.

Neteyam gives you a look that you can't decipher, and it eats away at your insides. He's been giving you these looks for years now, settling into your soul and engraving it so whenever you close your eyes, you could see his expression.

"You, kissing me, is a boundary I'm willing to overstep. Why can't you realize that?"

You gawk at him. His words don't settle in for another five seconds, but when the implications start rushing in, your heart squeezes with the most welcomed pain. "W-what?"

Netetam huffs a frustrated breath, then pinches the bridge of his nose. With squeezed eyes, he sits on his hunches. He says your full name, and you have no choice but to kneel down and sit in front of him as well. 

"I have been trying to court you for 3 years now but you're one difficult woman to impress." 

You would argue that the sound you let out is inhumane. You choke on your breath. "Excuse me?" you try to process his words. "What- I had no idea!"

"No idea? ____, why the hell would I look after your drunk ass if I wasn't the slightest bit interested. I slept here, I made you breakfast, and I'm tidying your home! All to prove that I can provide for you." Neteyam sighs, and you lower your ears at the unfamiliar ‘hell’ word. He seems frustrated and you can only hope it isn't at you. 

He notices your demeanor and softens, gently grabbing your hand. "My love, I weaved you gifts, I always offered you the biggest plays I caught, I invited you to eat with my family several times, and I even got Tonowari's approval!"

While what Neteyam says is inherently true, it holds some falsehood - and this frustrates you. He can't put the blame on you entirely, and you realize that his warrior ego is far too big for him to admit his attempts were simply not enough. 

"No," you say lowly. "The gifts you weaved me always had colors of cordiality on them. You offered my entire family food. And you didn't invite me to eat with your family, Lo'ak, Kiri and Tuk did." You count as you list them on your finger.

Neteyam flushes a deep color that compliments his cheeks beautifully, and for a moment you forget the entirety of the conversation. "I asked my siblings to invite you since you were closer to them - I was scared you would refuse if I asked. And whatever do you mean, cordial colors?"

"You know, the colors that indicate a platonic friendship."

He gawks at you. "I don't know of this!"

"Neteyam, you've been in our clan for years, surely, you've heard it somewhere."

"No!" he gets a little panicked. "I just thought you liked those colors, you always wear them."

"Because these were given to me by my friends!" you touch your jewelry for added effect.

Neteyam falls back from his position clumsily, holding his forehead. The view makes you soften entirely - you never thought you'd see Neteyam, always so calm, calculated, and graceful, panicking and awkward like this. He seems like he isn't in control of his actions and feelings which is evidently making him frustrated even more.

You crawl towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder soothingly. He flinches slightly at the touch, and you can see his nape starting to flush a deep color. His body is hot beneath your fingertips, and you can almost feel it thrumming. "Eywa, I'm such a failure. I asked everyone how to court you properly and they gave me these...answers. And I did all of them. All of them-  you didn't even blink in my direction - you,"

He looks at you, eyes blown wide. "You turn me into this clumsy, awkward fool. I hate not being in control," 

“Aww,” you coo, heart soaring. Taking a deep breath, you try to calm down to provide him some sort of comfort. "Neteyam, I like you too. I've liked you ever since you and your family came seeking uturu."

He gasps, "That long? Why didn't you ever-"

"For the same reasons you haven't." you sigh. "I'm always making a fool of myself whenever you're around. Take last night for example,"

Neteyam smiles fondly. "I thought you were adorable, clinging onto me, checking my ass out."

You groan, hitting his arm softly. "I thought you liked me. You don't tease the one you like,"

Neteyam grabs your hand before you can retract it. He pulls you forward until you're almost kissing him. Almost. "Oh, but I think you do," he smirks. 

Face hot, tail twitching, you suck in a breath. 

"So, you like me, and I know I love you,"

You gasp, not breaking eye contact. 

"We wasted all those years for nothing." he huffs, "I could have had you much sooner than this and saved us all the trouble. I shouldn't have asked my dad and Lo'ak for courting advice, they're helpless."

You giggle, putting a hand on his chest. The joy you're feeling is inexplicable, you feel it lingering down to your feet and floating you. His hand covers yours, squeezing it softly. "Yeah, you probably shouldn't have."

"Aren't you demanding," he grins, gaze fluttering down to your lips. "I will court you the right way from now on,"

"You should ask Rotxo," 

He furrows his forehead, "Rotxo? You're joking!"

You swat at his arm with your free hand. "No, I'm not. Rotxo is more romantic than all of you combined. Don't you see how flustered Kiri gets whenever he's around? The man knows what he's doing."

"Are you purposefully trying to make me jealous right now?" Neteyam grumbles, catching your free hand. He presses it to his heart, and you hope this will become a practiced gesture as well. "Don't talk about other men this close to my lips, yawne."

You roll your eyes, though your blush is undeniable. "Jealous already?"

"Always," Neteyam whispers, pressing your palm on his heart. The breath he lets out hits your lips.

"Neteyam, kiss me before I lose my mind."

And he does, softly until it's no longer the lingering touch of his plush lips but the two of you, grinning from ear to ear, unable to kiss due to your uncontrollable smiles. 

[keeperesque]

hi, this is my dog! her name is magnolia mae and she's an elderly chihuahua-dachshund mix (estimated between 12-15 years old). she's a rescue we received from my roommate and best friend's late cousin about 5 years ago.

long story short, our sweet girl has been experiencing some severe and concerning health issues (extremely low RBC, WBC, Neutrophils, and Platelets), and she needs to have her bone marrow tested. this is extremely expensive (at least 1,200), and we're hoping to get some help. if you'd like more information on what's going on with her, that will be under the cut. otherwise, please consider using either of the below methods to help us take care of our sweet old girl!

ppal.me: @/daisyd0nati0ns (replace 0s with Os)

kof!: @/keeperesque

don't tag as d0nat!ons/etc, etc..

when we moved across the country during late 2020 to be with my wife, we brought her, as well as my elderly cat sampson and my two older rabbits, indie and digit.

2023, however, has not been kind to any of our pets. in february, we lost sampson to kidney failure - it was sudden and utterly heartbreaking. a month later, my wife found that digit had passed away in her sleep, and indie was put down shortly after due to health complications we could not afford to properly treat. since then, we've been extremely diligent with maggie's health - she eats special food for her kidneys, has vet appointments scheduled every 6 months, gets twice-daily walks, takes medication for her thyroid, and receives plenty of love.

unfortunately, starting with an emergency visit in september, maggie's been having severe problems with her blood - specifically an extremely low platelet count (33,000-55,000, normal levels are about 200,000), white blood cell count and neutrophils are extremely low, and she's extremely anemic. while she's on some medication to keep her stable, we aren't sure how long that will last, and it's taxing on her body.

after ruling out infectious diseases, we need to take her in to have her bone marrow looked at. the procedure, at the low end, will cost around 1,200, and up to 1,600, depending.

i also have pdfs available for anyone skeptical of these claims or who want proof of treatment.

we're not sure if we'll be able to save her, but we would at least like to know what's happening so we can make an informed decision on how to proceed, instead of watching and waiting for the worst. anything over the price of her procedure will, of course, go towards related expenses, such as treatments or end-of-life care.

if you read all of that, thanks. again, please consider helping us out!!

ppal.me: @/daisyd0nations (0 is an o)

kof!: @/keeperesque

have an extra maggie pic :)

[phoenixyfriend]

Calls for Action, Call Your Reps: 2/26/24

This is USA-specific, as that is the place I live and know.

Find your elected officials.

As usual, most of my information on what bills are on the floor comes from GovTrack. I am including some suggested listening/reading (you can find text versions if you google the title and 'transcript') at the bottom of the post. I am also including a current event that is likely to be a very powerful argument, with the right politicians. The event is prefaced with a red warning tag, and followed by event-specific verbiage.

Suggested verbiage and strategies for calling your elected officials.

GovTrack has said that there are still no votes scheduled, in this blog post from Friday: What's Next for Congress? (Feb 23, 2024)

In practice, that appears to mean that they are arguing over the budget to avoid yet another government shutdown. Given that the delays to the budget so far have been tied directly to the Israel/Ukraine/Taiwan military funding and Southern border.

Use this time to call their offices and tell them to vote the way you want them to.

The most immediate and pressing issue at this moment is the famine in Gaza. Widely reported today is that a two-month-old boy recently died of starvation, and the World Health Organization is declaring that it has become famine and a mass starvation event, no longer just a threat of one.

At this time, the three greatest factors in that famine are:

Israeli bombardment (destruction of existing food stores and farming land)

Israeli blockades of the Egyptian border into Gaza, preventing aid trucks from places like the US from reaching people

The cessation of funding to UNRWA, which has been the lifeline to Palestinian civilians for decades, and is currently the best and possibly only chance to save the one and a half million dying civilians

This information is being reported by the WHO, UNRWA itself, UNICEF, and more, along with journalists that are in Gaza at this time.

The other issue, more domestically, is the rising tide of concern for US Reproductive Rights stemming from the IVF ruling in Alabama.

Both House and Senate:

Reinstate funding for UNRWA. While the claims made by Israel that employees of the relief agency were involved in Oct. 7th are troubling, THEY are not well supported, and western officials did not do their duty in investigating the claims before cutting funding. This arm of the UN is currently providing food, water, shelter, and medical care to the 2.3 million displaced peoples of Gaza. It is especially disturbing and concerning that the many children of Gaza, who are already suffering due to this conflict, are now having this support revoked. Many sources are also claiming that the evidence is flimsy at best.

Urge both Senate and House to refrain from funding Israel, or to at least put some strings on it. The IDF cannot be given funding without some regulations on what they can do with it. They have proven that they are unwilling to take steps to protect civilians.

Sanctions must also be placed on Israel for its continued impediment of aid intended for Gazans, including aid from the US.

Urge for the US to stop vetoing ceasefire demands in the UN. No, the suggested replacement written by the US is not an excuse.

Not directly related to Gaza: It looks like they’re gearing up for another push at KOSA. The canned email responses I’m getting are really proud of being in support of KOSA, which is… bad. It is also bad for people outside the US, including Palestine, apparently. VOTE NAY.

Not related to Gaza: Alabama's recent court decision has put IVF services in danger in the state, with multiple fertility clinics halting all related services for any pregnancy that is not yet in progress; there were implantation appointments for last week that were canceled with no knowledge of when they might be greenlit. Push for full spectrum reproductive rights protection (fertility services, family planning, birth control, abortion, and more), and if you have a pro-lifer as your elected official, cite the Alabama ruling as a cause for concern of how the lack of codified reproductive rights protection can impact even those who do want children.

FOR THE SENATE: Urge your senator to put their support behind Bernie Sanders and his motion to restrict funding to Israel until a humanitarian review of the IDF’s actions in Gaza has been completed. Cite it as Senate Resolution 504 if your Senator is right-wing enough to react negatively to the mention of Sanders by name. NOTE: This resolution was TABLED by the Senate on 1/16, but it is being brought back in as conditions continue to escalate.

Passed in the House recently, so bother your senators about it, is H.R. 3016: IGO Anti-Boycott Act. Vote Nay. This appears to be intended to force US companies to do business with US allies instead of participating in boycotts. This appears, to me, to be an attack on movements like BDS. To Dem Reps, argue that this refuses the right of peaceful protest to US citizens. To Republican Reps, argue that this is a dangerous government overreach and that it is not the right of the government to force US citizens to purchase products and materials from specific foreign partners.

FOR THE HOUSE: Recommend that they support House Resolution 786, introduced by Rep. Cori Bush, Calling for an immediate deescalation and cease-fire in Israel and occupied Palestine. ALTERNATELY: Urge your representative to put their support behind Rep. Rashida Tlaib’s petition for the US government to recognize the IDF’s actions in Gaza as ethnic cleansing and forced displacement, and put a stop to it.

Alright, now the current big news story.

Warning: Self-harm, public suicide.

I will preface this with an explanation of a recent event.

The big American news of this week that is being talked about on all political news sources, from BBC to NPR to Al Jazeera, is the self-immolation in DC. A US Air Force service member walked to the Israeli embassy in Washingon DC, set up a Twitch Stream, and stated that he refused to be party to the genocide being committed with the support of his country's government. He then doused himself in a flammable liquid, set himself on fire, and shouted 'Free Palestine' on repeat until the fire grew too great for him to do anything but scream in pain. The man was rushed away to a hospital, but has apparently died since. Twitch has understandably removed the video for ToS violations, but the video has been saved and reshared to other sites since.

To be clear, the airman, a 25yo named Aaron Bushnell, explicitly stated that this was an act of extreme protest, but not as extreme as the current lives of Palestinians in Gaza. Please do not allow people to convince you this was just a random act of mental illness. It was tragic, yes, but this very public, recorded, in-uniform, motive-declared suicide was by all appearances a calculated choice based on centuries of precedent.

If your senator or representative claims to be pro-military, bring this up. Even if they don't, bring it up.

"A service member, someone who presumably has access to more information on what is happening 'on the ground' than the average citizen, someone who has proven their dedication to America, is dying in agony to prove a point: that Israel's actions cannot be condoned, cannot be justified, and most certainly cannot be supported with fourteen billion in military aid."

The above is one possible verbiage you can use when you call.

Today, I would also recommend listening to NPR's Politics Podcast as the episode contains some good information on The Michigan Problem, and the Democracy Now podcast, which has some good interviews on the confirmed famine going on in Gaza. I will note that there are some claims being made in the latter about the US government, including comments by Biden himself, using law enforcement and college administrations to punish pro-Palestine groups, from Students for Justice in Palestine to even Jewish Voice for Peace (notable since one of the major arguments for these actions is that anti-zionists are antisemitic). I am saying 'claims being made' as I have not had time to corroborate this with other news sources, and the other casts I listen to have not mentioned it.

If you wish to support my political blogging, I am accepting donations on ko-fi.

Alternately, I would also suggest that you send any spare money to PCRF (Palestine Children's Relief Fund), UNRWA, or Save the Children Sudan, which has been undergoing an incredibly deadly civil war for a year or so now, but that the US has significantly less involvement in on a bureaucratic level, so IDK what any of us in the US can do to help in that regard. But many of us do have money! So there's that.

[eris-snow]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Tags: fluff, shoto x gn!reader, shy reader

Going to Shoto's agency for the first time.

A shitty receptionist.

An angry Shoto.

Shoto was melting.

He'd just gotten back from a patrol out in the autumn air of Tokyo, but he was melting.

Seeing you at the receptionist of his agency in his hoodie that was a tad baggy because of your size difference. He can't see your head because you'd decided to throw the hood up, but he knew it was you because he could hear your voice tremble as you nervously tell the receptionist why you were here

The weather was cold outside, and even under your second layer and baggy pants, you were shivering.

"Shoto forgot his lunch at home, so I'm here to deliver it. I-I have a note if you need verification-"

"Sorry, but you'll need to schedule an appointment if you want to visit his office." The receptionist said snootily without taking her eyes off the computer. "I need to ask you to leave before security gets here."

Shoto knows how meek you are, knows how you would never want to trouble anyone and are so insecure about your decisions. If someone tells you you're wrong, you start second-guessing yourself and stop speaking up after that.

So he was surprised that even after a few more seconds of hesitation, your shaky voice whispered back to the receptionist.

"B-But then Sho won't have lunch today. Please believe me, I really don't-" You tried, even putting yourself out there no matter how humiliating it is because you know how busy he is.

"Look," The lady finally stopped typing to shoot you a sharp glare. "Sho doesn't have time to deal with pushy fangirls like you, sweetheart." She jabbed a finger at you, which makes you shrink back slightly, "So why don't you take your little bento and find someone else to give it to, hm? Better yet, dump it in the garbage bin outside. It's where all you tryhards' gifts end up anyway."

Your face flushed scarlet red with shame as you try to ignore all the traction you were getting at the receptionist's outburst. You muttered a soft apology as you trained your eyes on the floor with the bento clutched tight in your ice-cold hands. But right as you start making your way to the big sliding doors outside, Shoto quickly put aside his growing anger and races to catch your arm before you can step out.

There are gasps from various interns and sidekicks, and when you whipped around to see who had caught your hand, your expression melted from embarrassment to relief. You've never come to his agency before, after all, and only Shoto's closest sidekicks have seen how you've looked like.

They were all not here (how convenient), of course.

"Sho-?"

"What are you doing here, love?" He asked, bringing your hood down to get to see you better. "You're freezing cold,"

"You forgot your lunch," You giggled, oozing with comfortability now that he was here as you hand him his bento. "I was afraid you'd get hungry."

He smiled softly at you taking the bento from your hand and replacing it with his palm.

The receptionist, who once wore a smug smirk was now sputtering in disbelief, biting her lip nervously as she watched how intimate the both of you were.

"I have a break now. Do you want to join me upstairs?" He inquired, warming you up with his left side. You shift closer to him a tiny bit as you nod your head vigorously.

As the both of you neared the lifts and passed the stiff receptionist, Shoto's face morphed into a hardened scowl. "By the way," He turned to face the lady.

"Don't bother coming to work tomorrow."