#or express that how he saved him was 'beautiful'

[bluzebub19]

hello! can i request viktor or jayce with a reader who has autism and doesnt speak but is good at science?

Writer's note: Hello! Thanks so much for your request! This is like the first request I got and I already started on it. Hope you like it! Any tips with writing are very much appreciated!

Warnings: None, just fluffy stuff. Not proofread.

Pairing/s: Viktor x GN! reader who's autistic and nonverbal but loves science

Platonic Headcanons

● As a mentor or colleague, Viktor respects you a lot. He encourages your work and never underestimates your capabilities, treating you as an equal in every sense.

● He enjoys the calmness you bring to the lab, and he appreciates the efficiency and focus you put into your work

● Viktor is protective in his own way. If anyone tries to belittle or patronize you, he’s quick to step in. He may not be a physical one, but his words are sharp.

● “You mistake silence for weakness. A grave error, I assure you.”

● He takes the time to understand how you prefer to communicate. Whether it’s through notes, gestures, or subtle expressions, he adapts because he doesn't want you to feel self-conscious. A feeling he's very familiar with when he views his body, his disease as a weakness.

● Viktor occasionally shares personal anecdotes from his own life, hoping to make you feel more comfortable around him.

●To him, he finds it refreshing to work with someone who sees the world as he does. You make him feel understood in a way that's rare for him.

Romantic Headcanons

• The platonic headcanons, of course, still applies here.

• Viktor truly admires your dedication and love to science, and he often finds himself fascinated by the way you approach and solve problems. He's intrigued as well by your ability to notice patterns and details others overlook. Your perspective makes him think differently, which is why he values your opinion.

• Viktor is patient and observant. He never pushes you to speak, respecting your methods of communication. Instead, he learns to read your body language, small gestures, or the notes you scribble down to express yourself. Even so, he’s comfortable with your silence and finds it peaceful rather than awkward.

• Viktor’s subtle affection shows in little things: placing a blanket over your shoulders when you were too focused on work and fell asleep on your desk, or saving the last of your favorite snacks for you.

• When he realizes his feelings for you, it’s a quiet epiphany. He isn't one to confess dramatically, he shows his affection through mostly his actions. A touch on your hand, a gentle smile when you accomplish something—he hopes you notice. Though, that's not to say his words aren't beautiful to hear when it rolls of his tongue. He manages to sound like a poet with how he describes his feelings without even saying "I love you." Because to him, those words are an understatement.

• If you reciprocate, Viktor treasures your love like it’s the most precious discovery he’s ever made. He cherishes every small moment with you and continues to support you in every way he can.

[danisdistant]

how christmas would be with hsr characters! ft. sunday, aventurine, argenti

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

[intro blog] | [currently reworking taglist!] | [masterlist]

sunday - quality time

you’d be spending the entire christmas day with sunday, possibly including the entire day before christmas too. while he enjoys your company with the entire express crew as they group up to celebrate another year, he also wishes to spend some quality time just with you.

this can range from telling stories over some coffee or tea, or going to different worlds for the holidays, or even caroling christmas music. really, he just wants to be with you for the holidays.

speaking of caroling, sunday would be humming christmas tunes all the time. he loves the holidays not only because he can spend time with you, but also because the holidays always gives him fond memories of when he was back in penacony. even when his situation changed, he wouldn’t take time back if it meant he wouldn’t have met you.

you really wouldn’t have to get him anything for christmas, besides your time. however if you do manage to buy or make him something you think he’d like, he would absolutely cherish it for as long as it exists.

trinkets? they’ll be up on his shelf. clothes of jewelry? he’d wear them wherever it’s most visible. food? he’d gobble it all up. he’s not necessarily picky, instead he’s happy you care about him.

aventurine - wishlist buyer

this man would be so smug about what he’s getting you over the holidays. anything that has been saved on your wishlist online or on paper would appear nicely wrapped right in front of your doorstep.

it doesn’t matter how expensive the item was on your wishlist either, or if aventurine could even afford it or not. some way or another, he’ll get it for you.

meanwhile, if you don’t have anything on your wishlist, he’ll still find a way to buy you a bunch of gifts that he thinks you might like based on your tastes.

he doesn’t usually celebrate the holidays as he could be doing more productive activities, yet he’s beginning to enjoy it more watching your expression as he buries you with gifts. he just loves spoiling you, but the holidays provide an excuse to do so even more.

as for returning gives, he expects at least a ‘thank you’ and lots of kisses and affection from you. after all, doesn’t he deserve it after working oh so hard gambling his money to make enough to get you what you want?

argenti - sentimental gifts

argenti is the kind of guy that loves homemade gifts. he believes it conveys how close your relationship is with each other, being able to gift someone something that’s special to just the two of you.

which is why for this christmas, he wanted to give you something that would remind you of him even if he was away. this could be anything ranging from a photo album containing all his favorite pictures of each other and your adventures together. or perhaps gifts from the world when you two first met.

his favorite gifts to you would have to be romantic letters, paired with whatever reminds him of you. he has an interesting way with words, but he uses that to his advantage when describing your beauty to him.

argenti doesn’t typically celebrate the holidays if he’s out on an adventure, but if he has time he would love to spend it with you on a festive world, giving you a gift mentioned above. after all, he believes all the festivities and celebrations are beautiful.

he’s just like sunday when you’re giving him a gift. he would accept and appreciate almost anything that you give him, because it would be a piece of you he could appreciate whenever he’s apart from you.

[flevoiruna]

𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃𓈒 ᴍᴇᴍᴇɴᴛᴏ ᴍᴏʀɪ 𓈒𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖

˖⋆⑅˚₊𖧷 ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴅɢᴇʜᴏɢ x [ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ] ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

: ̗̀➛ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɪɴ ʟɪꜰᴇ, ᴀʟʟ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴀꜱ�� ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍ�� ᴛᴏ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴅ. ᴘᴀɪɴꜰᴜʟ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ.

: ̗̀➛ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ[ꜱ]: ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

: ̗̀➛ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.5k

➹ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴛʜᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇꜱᴛɢʀᴏᴛᴛᴏ,ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ | ᴀᴏ3 ver. | story based on this song

In life, all good things do not last and will eventually come to an end.

Painful it is.

How did that one heart-binding moment of happiness could lead to desolation of agony? He knew he was not capable of handling the grasp of the feeling of joy let alone he was undeserving of it for he believed it to be the case. Or maybe because he knows that somewhere in him if he did find happiness in his life, it would immediately slip away.

And his greatest fears had come to life, unfolding right before his eyes once again.

“I can't lose you too,” Shadow pleads hoarsely as he pulls you closer to his chest, your life force further slipping away from his grasp. What was he supposed to do? Not when you slipped into his heart so carelessly and caving into the saving grace that was your soul. You showed him that there was so much to see in the world, the beauty it holds despite the lurks of the malevolent cruelness of it all. He looked down to see your blood seeping into his dark fur and he almost cringed at the sight. It was too familiar— all too painfully familiar.

Gunshots echoed in his mind, the memories resurfacing that were once contained shut inside the recesses of his mind. The lid slipped open. His mouth trembled, breath chasing after breath. Vines snaked its way around his chest until it was hard for him to breathe. Tightness clutched onto his throat as bile threatened to rise from his mouth.

A hand touched his shoulder and a hot air hovered beside his ear. It spoke to him, their tone dripping in malice, grappling on the intent to pull him down to the darkness.

You can’t save anyone.

He bit the inside of his lip until it drew blood. It was getting harder to breathe. His eyes burned, fingers tingling, mouth turning dry. It was odd. You weren’t opening your eyes. Those eyes that were full of colors and life. Your fur that was once clean and pure, now streaked in crimson blood.

“Is that a tear I see? How touching!” a voice chimed ludicrously yet amused. Their expression contorted in a sick fascination before the sight unfolding in their eyes.

“Shedding tears for an insolent mortal? The ultimate life form itself? Fascinating, indeed!” it hollered, their laugh reverberating in the air as it bounced back, distorted and deafening.

Shadow’s teeth gnashed, his fangs revealing within, a slumbering rage and fury threatening to be awakened and unleashed. His vision had slowly darkened into red then returned back when a memory flashed in his clouded mind, a sentimental figment of recollection that he secretly harboured.

“I wished for your happiness because you deserve it more than you know. You’re kind, thoughtful, and good-natured.” Once not long ago, they sat together beneath the moonlight, the blades of the grass and delicate caresses of the lilies surrounded them. Your smile peaked through the evening, an image that was engraved in his mind forever, unspoken but kept.

“I wish for you to have it freely without anything holding you back. Just once..” A longing ached in him, embracing him whole. Melancholy washed over him like a gentle wave. He never sought happiness, nor did it cross his mind. It was something he never allowed himself to seek. He was the pillar that stood in grace as a protector of the earth even if it cost him his life and that’s all that mattered. It was what she would have wanted. Maybe that was his fate, what he was created for; to die by protecting the world until his form finally gives in to tumultuous exhaustion.

And then one day, upon meeting you, your encounter, all of those sombre thoughts altered round. He swore that he wouldn’t get attached. Not again. He didn’t want to go through the suffering of losing someone he cherished again. Yet here you were. Managing to break his walls into rubles so easily as if you were always meant for him to irrevocably do so. When did it start, he wondered. How did it form? He did not know for sure. All he knew was the more he spent his moment with you, the more he eventually got drawn to you. Perhaps more drawn than he could have thought.

Until he couldn’t bear it to let you go, despite himself.

All the smiles you’d given him, gentlest of words that grounded him and enlightened the darkest thoughts that lingered in every corner in his soul. A presence that is akin to an angelic feeling of their wings wrapping themselves around him in a tender embrace. It healed him with leisured delicacy – so pure that he sometimes thought you did not deserve to even engage in a connection with someone like him.

Water was leaking in the corners of his eyes. It stung. It hurts. Everything was burning. All bullets of turmoil swept over him all at once, aiming for the weakest spot to shatter him apart. He choked on his saliva as he mustered to swallow them down with force. His grip on you tightened, not tight enough to hurt you, but with just the right amount to keep himself from purging the world into a complete desolation.

He felt it clawed on him and whispered more sickening phrases into his ears. Their twisted smile curled even wider as it watched his trembling form intensified. This is what it wanted. It wanted him to unleash the brewing rage in him, the one he’d been suppressing in the deepest parts that even he could not even see.

The Doom’s Eye sighed incredulously in disdain, false empathy dancing in its eyes in mockery and spoke again, “Those tears are nothing but fraud. They are meaningless. Did you think that you actually cared ? That you have become fond of this girl? A worthless creature by no means holds nothing of importance to you?”

You were no creature. You were worth everything he’d swore to stay away from things he knew that would be his weakness.

You were his world.

He didn’t want to hear any more. He didn’t want to hear those cruel words spouted at you.

“She really had turned you into a piteous animal, hasn’t she? Disappointing. Look at you, you’re all hideously ruined.”

He’s wrong. You didn’t ruin him. You completed him. You filled the gaps and every void in him. You showed him a new light, that he was deserving of a new chance, to start all over again.

He wanted to keep you close,

And spend all my days with you .

Even if you were a figure of fleeting time that is bound to leave this world one day, he would give anything for the feeling whenever he’s with you to last forever. Every single moment of it.

I want to be with you too for the rest of your remaining days.

“Though it would appear your attachment extends beyond friendship.” The Doom’s Eye let out yet another boredom sigh, traces of impatience dripping beneath it. With great excessive forcefulness of control, he again manipulates his way into his consciousness, trying to get him to succumb to him once and for all.

“Don’t fight me, my son.”

Shadow felt an agonizing sensation in his head then spreading throughout his body in a wildfire, clutching him in a vice grip like a snake enveloping its prey to a suffocating death. He grunted, eyes screwing shut as his body contorted in an overwhelming tension of being controlled against his will. A deep growl rumbled in his chest.

Something clawed on his back as if trying to rip their way out of his flesh.

“Don’t resist it, Shadow. You belong to us, to me. You always have been.”

His eyes snapped back open, lids uncannily stretched and violently jolting. All he could see was you. Your fragile form still nestled in his arms, lifeless and unmoving. Numbness struck him and he could feel himself gradually descending into his control and falling onto submission. He held onto you like you were his sole lifeline– the remaining remedy to heal every scar and wound he had.

And it stole you from him.

“You pathetic little thing. Let me take away your misery.”

Shadow gasped a choked cough, a violent tremor raking throughout his entire body. His spine felt like it could snap in half, ripping him open.

Coal-black inks poured on the floor.

I want to believe that there’s a future with me and you, where I can stay by your side without any reminisces of guilt and shame holding me back.

He leans his head against yours as if it was his resting place. His guts sunk when he felt the coldness of your form, your warmth had long vanished.

The voice inside him hissed again, filled with twisted venom and hatred, mocking him.

Does seeing her like this make you feel sick?

The lust for kill ignited within him. Destroy everything. Burn everything into ashes. Death to all those who deserve it. Plunge the world into nothing but catastrophe.

That is what he was made for, right?

❤︎ ྀི ݁𓂅 ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: so this is like me putting away the third person in my stories. poor shadow has to suffer because of it :((

[lynnaredfield3383]

Not my characters. Established relationship. Friends for a year. Reader is burned out.

Bakugo had known you since you teamed up with Kiri a year ago. Bakugo had been overseas on a mission when word got to him that you save the red heads life. Since then, Bakugo had done his research and due diligence in getting to know you.

So, when you left abruptly after finishing a joint mission, he noticed.

You had to get away before you broke. Before anyone could see you were burnt out. The sound of your phone buzzing annoyed you, and so you silenced all notifications. Today, started your weekend off anyway.

Bakugo wasn't surprised when you didn't answer his call, so he simply activated the GPS locator. All heroes were required to have them on their phone and somewhere on their hero costume when on active duty.

You heard the explosions before you even saw him. Collecting yourself was impossible as your energy was completely depleted. You honestly didn't know how you were going to get down from this roof when the time came.

Bakugo had seen your different moods and expressions, memorizing each one so when the time came, he could repay you for saving his best friend. The expression you wore now was blank, while tears silently rolled down your cheeks. Bakugo sat beside you, the heat from his body drifting towards yours.

"I'll listen and not judge," Bakugo's raspy voice was soft.

You smiled at his statement, but you didn't feel like talking. You felt numb. As that thought hit you, the dam broke and soft sobs escaped you, the tears falling faster.

Bakugo pulled you onto his lap, wrapped you in his arms, and held you tightly against his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, realizing how long it had been since you'd been held.

Bakugo ran his hand over your hair, hoping it helped calm you. Your sobs had stopped, but he was damned if he knew what to do next.

"I've spent the last three years putting everything into being a hero. Not for the ranking or anything, but just to help. I haven't taken a day for myself or had a date since high school. That's pathetic, right?" You smiled bitterly as you waited for his answer.

"Nah. It's part of the job. Dating is difficult in general, but when you run yourself into the ground, it's impossible."

You gently pulled back from him and motioned you were ready to stand. Bakugo let you go, reluctantly.

"I know you feel like you owe me for saving Eijiro, but the truth is, he saved me. I was going to retire that day when he called me to assist in his mission. The week before I "saved" him, he became a friend. I needed one of those so badly. I should say, I needed a friend like him. I have plenty of friends, but Eijiro is special."

Bakugo smiled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, he's always been that kind of guy. But you're wrong. I mean, at first, I felt like I owed you, but now...I'm really not good at this shit."

"Feelings?" You smiled.

"Yeah, those."

"Good, because the last thing I could handle right now is someone else's feelings. Sorry, but..."

"Just tell me what you need."

"To breathe. Sounds stupid."

Bakugo shook his head and held out his hand. You cocked an eyebrow, almost questioning his intent.

"Trust me, okay?"

You took his hand, gasping when he pulled your body to his. Your noses nearly touching when you looked up into his ruby eyes.

"Umm, this isn't professional."

Bakugo smirked.

"We're off the clock."

Bakugo placed your arms around his back, and you held on tightly. You'd been flown around by other heroes, but for some reason, this was a bit scarier. Bakugo gently placed earplugs in your ears. Then he took off, explosions filling the air. When you felt the ground beneath your feet again you opened your eyes.

In front of you was a beautiful pool with an attached waterfall, the area secluded.

"Where are we?" You asked, removing the earplugs.

"My private home. I keep an apartment near the agency, but this is what I consider home. When I was in the States, I found this place. Kaaterskill falls or something in NY. It was so peaceful, so I had the architect add this into the pool. I sit here for hours sometimes to recharge."

"Thanks. I know how important privacy is to you."

"I was thinking I'll get your go bag from the agency and you can stay here for the weekend. If you want to, no pressure."

You hugged him tightly, relieved when he hugged you back. It was so good to have a friend like this. Someone you could fall apart in front of and feel safe.

"Can I just wear your clothes. I love your pine scent, and I honestly don't want to let go of you. You give really good hugs."

Bakugo was glad your face was buried in his chest, so you didn't see his pink cheeks.

"As good as Eijiro?"

"Almost."

"Guess you can let go then," Bakugo teased.

When you tried to pull back, his arms tightened around you.

"Thought you wanted me to let go."

"I know you said you couldn't handle someone else's feelings, but I like you."

You tensed up in his arms. After a minute, you calmed yourself, relaxing again.

"I like you, too. Did you mean it when you said to tell you what I need?"

"Yes."

"I'm asking a lot of you, but can we stay in and watch old 80's horror movies?"

Bakugo smirked, happy to get what he wanted without having to ask.

"Sure. Whatever you need, tell me. Oh, and you should check your phone. The agency was trying to get a hold of you after you left."

You pulled away and checked the message from the agency.

Agency: Take the next two weeks off. You're covered. Dynamight volunteered to look after you during that time.

"You volunteered to babysit me?"

"Nah. Truth is, we all knew you were running out of fuel. None of us realized you were already on fumes. So, it's my job to make sure you relax for the next two weeks."

"Is this some kind of rom-com? Like I'm supposed to fall in love with you over the next two weeks?" You laughed.

"Fall? You know you're already in love with me," Bakugo bumped his shoulder into yours.

"Hmm. Keep telling yourself that," you teased.

Bakugo smiled, pulling you into his side again. He would keep telling himself that until it became a reality & two weeks was plenty of time.

[cherryblessing]

📎— if only i've said it, suguru.

The room is eerily silent, save for the soft scrape of paper against paper as you sift through the last remnants of his life. Faded ink smears the edges of the notes, the words trailing off mid-thought as if they, too, lost their will to continue.

You sit cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by fragments of Suguru's mind. The air feels thick with his presence, but he isn’t here—not anymore. You haven’t touched these papers in years, the weight of their meaning too much to bear back then. But now, you think, maybe you’re finally ready to face him, or at least the pieces he left behind.

"あのね、私実は気付いてるの ほら、君がいったこと"

You remember the last conversation you had with him, his voice as soft as the dying breeze. He said something that didn’t make sense at the time, something about how the world only made sense if you looked at it from a certain angle. You dismissed it as his usual philosophical musings, laughing lightly in a futile attempt to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Now, the weight of those words presses against your chest. You realize what he meant—or maybe you think you do. It’s too late to ask. It’s too late to hear his voice again.

"盲目的に盲動的に妄想的に生きて"

You think of the moments when he began slipping away, the fire in his eyes replaced by something colder, sharper. The nights when he’d stare at the sky, his silence louder than any words he could have spoken. You tried to pull him back, to keep him tethered to the person he used to be, but the distance between you only grew. He was reckless, you thought, but maybe you were the blind one—unable to see how much pain he was carrying.

"もっと、もっと、もっと もっと、ちゃんと言って"

You wanted him to speak. You begged him to tell you what was wrong, to let you shoulder some of the weight that was crushing him. But he never did. He gave you half-truths and broken smiles, as if sparing you from his reality was the kindest thing he could do. You wonder now if he thought you wouldn’t understand, or if he was afraid you’d leave too.

The anger you once felt has dulled into an ache, a question that will never have an answer. If he’d just said something, would things have been different?

"あのね、空が青いのってどうやって伝えればいいんだろうね？"

You tried everything to make him see it—the simplicity, the brightness, the beauty of life that still existed even as his world collapsed. You remember pointing at the sky one day, its vast blue expanse unbroken, your words catching in your throat as you searched for something—anything—to make him pause, to make him feel.

But how do you describe something so simple, so universally understood, to someone who’s already spiraling into the void? You saw it in his eyes that day—the detachment, the quiet resignation. You wanted to shake him, to shout that the sky was still blue, that there were still things worth living for, worth holding on to.

You couldn’t find the words, though, and the moment slipped away. You wonder now if it would have mattered, if he was already too far gone. But you wish you’d tried harder.

"あぁ、いつか人生最後の日、君がいないことを"

You close your eyes and imagine a world where he’s still here, where he’s standing by the window with that unreadable expression of his. You wonder if he knew how much you needed him, how much the world felt emptier without his presence. You’ll carry that emptiness with you until the end, you think.

Even now, you catch yourself glancing toward the door, half-expecting him to walk in with some offhand comment that only you would understand. But the door doesn’t open, and you are alone.

"牡丹は散っても花だ 夏が去っても追慕は切だ"

The person he was before he left still exists in your memories—the gentle smile, the quiet strength, the way he could make you feel like the most important person in the room without saying a word. That Suguru is gone, scattered like petals in the wind, but he was beautiful all the same.

Even now, with everything that happened, you can’t bring yourself to hate him. You wish you could. It would be easier to let go if you could just hate him.

"きっと、人生最後の日も愛をうたうのだろう"

If you could see him again, you’d tell him all the things you never said. You’d tell him how much he mattered to you, how much you wanted to save him, even if you didn’t know how. You’d tell him that even now, you carry him with you, in the spaces he left behind.

But you can’t say any of that to him now. So you whisper it to the empty room, hoping somehow, some way, he can hear you.

Geto Suguru is gone, and the world keeps turning. But for you, it turns just a little slower, the edges a little blurrier, the colors a little dimmer. You wonder if he ever knew how much he meant to you—if he could feel it, even when you didn’t have the words to say it.

You hope, wherever he is, that he finally understands.

the song ``言って`` belongs to yorushika.

©cherryblessing.2024

[blossom-shy]

From Shadows to Sunlight

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

Dazai Osamu x female Reader

Summary: The Port Mafia's executive office used to feel cold and dark, reflecting Dazai's turmoil hidden behind a mask of indifference. Once, he had explained his attachment to the darkness, but now, in the bright halls of the Armed Detective Agency, he had transformed, sporting a playful demeanor and a starkly different outfit. Despite his cheerful antics to escape paperwork, remnants of his darker past still lingered, manifesting in reflective moments on the rooftop. However, as you spent time with him, you noticed a significant shift; his focus had moved from despair to appreciating the small joys of life. The balance between his shadows and the light of newfound happiness became evident as he expressed his changing perspective on the world. Ultimately, this transformation did not erase his essence but added depth to his character, showcasing that meaningful change is about embracing new ways to be oneself. Laughter and shared experiences painted the sky of their relationship in vibrant colors, symbolizing hope and renewal.

-----------------------------------------------The Port Mafia's executive office felt colder than usual that night. You remembered how Dazai used to sit there, draped in black, a carefully crafted mask of indifference hiding the turmoil beneath. His bandages were always pristine, but his eyes held shadows deeper than the harbor waters.

"Why do you stay?" you had asked him once, voice barely above a whisper in that dark office.

He had simply smiled, that empty smile that never reached his eyes. "Because the darkness is familiar."

But that was then.

Now, standing in the bright halls of the Armed Detective Agency, you watched as Dazai lounged on the office couch, his white shirt a stark contrast to his former attire. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, catching the playful glint in his eyes as he dodged Kunikida's exasperated attempts to make him complete his paperwork.

"[Name]-chan!" he called out cheerfully, using you as an excuse to escape his partner's lecture. "Save me from this workaholic!"

You couldn't help but smile, remembering how different things had been. The transition hadn't been easy – there were still nights when you'd find him on the roof, staring at the city lights with that distant look in his eyes. But those moments grew rarer with each passing day.

"Some things never change," you said, watching him dramatically hide behind you. "Still avoiding work?"

"Ah, but now I avoid it with style!" He grinned, and this time it reached his eyes, warm and genuine. "Besides, wouldn't you rather get coffee with me? I know this wonderful little café..."

Kunikida threw his hands up in defeat, muttering about impossible partners and wasted potential.

The weight of the past still lingered sometimes, like a shadow at sunset. But as you walked with Dazai through Yokohama's bustling streets, watching him point out shapes in the clouds and dramatically recite poetry about the beauty of life (while still occasionally suggesting absurd suicide pacts), you realized something had fundamentally shifted.

The darkness hadn't completely left him – perhaps it never would. But now it was balanced with light, like the play of shadows and sunshine through cherry blossoms. His jokes about death became less frequent, replaced by observations about the small joys in life: the perfect cup of coffee, the way seagulls danced above the harbor, the satisfaction of solving a particularly challenging case.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, pausing at the waterfront, "I used to think the world was painted only in shades of gray. But it's actually quite colorful, isn't it?"

You nodded, understanding the weight behind those simple words. The transformation hadn't erased who he was – the brilliant strategist, the perceptive observer of human nature. Instead, it had added new layers, like watercolors bleeding into each other to create something unexpected and beautiful.

"Though I still think Kunikida-kun's obsession with schedules is a bit much," he added with a wink, breaking the moment of seriousness in typical Dazai fashion.

And as you laughed together, the setting sun painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, you realized that sometimes the most meaningful changes weren't about becoming a different person, but about finding new ways to be yourself.

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

I'm so sorry for a long summary and I hope you love it

[adrift-in-thyme]

For a Fic request maybe the Fairy Time AU, and either how people in his own era react to him being a Fairy. Or Time, Four and Hyrule being the small squad

Tysm for the request!! I included a bit of both prompts, but leaned much more heavily into the second.

CW for blood and injury, horror elements (think redeads), and harm to an animal

————————————————-

Some things, Time has learned, are easier when one is small.

There is so much about this form that dredges up fear within his heart, so much that makes him feel the utmost vulnerability. There is a large part of the world that looks upon him, with his delicate wings and tiny form, and sees not a creature of beauty, but a creature of power and blood.

Even those in his own time are not above it. He has learned that the hard way. Agony and entrapment are cruel teachers. 

However, it is not all a clouded array of doom and gloom. He is grateful for his fae form, proud of it. It allows him to heal, to bless, to watch over his brothers….

To feel even the slightest bit closer to the little one he lost so very long ago.

And there are moments, such as this, when his thankfulness grows even greater.

If his veins did not run thick with the blood of a fairy, he could not help to save his cub now.

The bars of the cage are so thick that when he positions himself facing one, he cannot see the opposite side. Despite this, the contraption itself is small, much too small for a large wolf such as Twilight. He curls within it, cramped, miserable. His gray fur is matted with dried blood. It seals his left eye shut.

Anger had boiled hot within him when Time first laid eyes upon the scene. Now, it remains, heavy and thick. Only, fear has deigned to join it. Together, they make for a nauseating mix. 

He does his best to school his expression into something vaguely comforting. He has never, however, been skilled at cloaking his emotions. 

This cage, magically enchanted as it is, can only be opened by the special key assigned to it. And that key is hidden within the bowels of this dark, dank place, filled with shadows and sinister beings. 

“The only way to reach it,” Twilight murmurs, voice hoarse and wavering, “is through there.”

He lifts a heavy head, nods toward a gap hewn into the wall. Misshapen rocks frame the outpouring of endless black. Their jagged forms turn it minuscule. Time doubts that even a mouse could slip easily past its borders.  

It is lucky, then, that fairies and Minish are smaller even than mice.

He reaches out a hand, lays it upon Twilight’s nose. There is guilt in those eyes of deepest blue. Remorse for requiring the aid of others. 

It is a characteristic of the hero, Time thinks, solemnly, to wish to never burden another.

“We will find it, cub,” he says, softly. “I promise.”

Then, he turns to his companions. He is fortunate to have chosen them to accompany him in this search — even more so, when Four immediately begins to formulate a plan. 

“Two of us should go after the key.” He holds a hand to his chin, head cocked, eyes sharp. “If they want our rancher’s magic, then they are obviously skilled to have noticed its importance in the first place. That group will need back up.”

“Indeed.” Time nods. “And the one remaining can stay back here, in case they return in the meantime.”

“I can go after the key,” Hyrule pipes up. There is determination in his eyes. “I’ve done stuff like this before. I’m good at navigating tunnels.”

Four looks at Time. “You should go with him. I know you want to protect Twilight, but Hyrule will need your strength so he can focus on navigation. Trust me — ” He sets a hand on Time’s arm. “— I’ll keep him safe.”

Time does not doubt the smithy’s ability in the slightest. Still, he cannot help the trepidation he feels as he turns away and slips into the tunnel after Hyrule.

It is far darker within than he had realized from the outside. Tinier, too. The stone brushes at the tips of his wings, seeming to cave in around him. The faint glows he and the traveler emit are an immense comfort in the clawing dimness.

No creatures meet them along the way, save for a few stray beetles who lack any interest in the activities of two fairies. Time clutches his sword, regardless. He cannot help the tension that grips him. A persistent feeling of wrongness has taken root ever since they began their journey. And as they move toward a flickering light at the end, it grows stronger.

They come out into a room that could very well be a dungeon cell. Illuminated solely by two torches, it is engulfed in sharp shadows and murky magic. Five beings with human-like form rest around a gleaming treasure chest. Dark hoods are pulled over their heads. 

Time fights against the urge to take a step back.

“Ugh,” Hyrule whispers, holding a hand to his mouth, “they smell like…”

“Suffering.” 

It is the only word he can find to attach to these creatures of darkness. Their scent is akin to the redeads that had haunted his Hyrule after its fall. He wonders if, perhaps, these are related to them somehow.

Neither hero wishes to venture into those dark depths. Yet, they go anyway. Softly, quietly, cautiously…

But not enough.

The creatures stir as they flit past, rapidly approaching the chest. One reaches out a clawed, emaciated hand and with dreadful speed, snatches at the air. Hyrule only just evades capture.

Its fellows rise now on legs that tremble beneath their cloaks. Screams well in their throats. Beady eyes pierce the darkness. They harbor pure terror within them.

Time swallows, hard.

“Go!” He hisses to Hyrule. “Get the key! I’ll distract them.”

A worried look flashes across Hyrule’s face. But he obeys. Time turns away. 

His blade would do more damage if he were human. But to evade the reach of these monsters in such a cramped space, he must be diligent and quick.

Grand wings beat the air, as he ducks, swooping downward to evade their vicious swings. In circles, he races, slashing fast and deadly at shadowy wrists and throats. Though these creatures seem immaterial in the lack of light, they are anything but. 

They screech, they flail. They gnash their teeth and grab at him, so fast he feels the wind of imminent contact. 

The scent of their fury is pungent in the room. The blows he deals will not be enough to slay the dead. But that was never the plan.

When they are distracted enough by the pain of thousands of tiny cuts, Time flits just out of reach. Quickly, he brings his ocarina to his lips. Quickly, he plays a melody.

Just as Hyrule holds up the key, light floods the room. Screeching fills his ears as the beasts freeze beneath its glorious embrace. 

“Hurry!”

The two heroes rush towards the gap, speed down the passage. They are well on their way, when the light fades and releases the monsters. 

Their screams echo behind them.

No sooner have they fled the darkness, than Hyrule throws the key to Four. The smithy catches it and fits it into the lock.

Twilight stumbles upward; Time allows his wings to fade, at last. And with his cub in his arms and those cursed creatures behind, they race towards safety and the brightness of day. 

[unicornpopcorn14]

Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt during the Lovecraft fight has always been so interesting to me...

Because it's the kind of worry you'd never expect from a character as gruff as Chuuya, who had displayed nothing but hostility towards Dazai so far. Usually, characters that are labelled as "angry" or "anger issues" (which Chuuya is much more complex than that but you get my point) act more as a tsundere type of way when the one they "don't care about" gets hurt. And show their care in very, very subtle ways (ex. their eyes widen, their mouth parts and closes again, etc) before putting up their front once more.

Chuuya, however, is open, and vocal about it. His worry is clear not only to us, but to Dazai himself, the one he shouldn't be displaying the concern to (as per the cliche). Shouldn't it be some sort of secret that Chuuya does care? Isn't that what skk's dynamic has been shaping up to be until now?

I'm telling you- the way my mind blanked when Chuuya just casually.... showed concern not once, but twice, was a sight to see.

Besides, the context makes it much more confusing, because Dazai isn't some rookie, and Chuuya knows that more than anybody. He was the youngest executive in Port Mafia's history, of course he can handle a hit or two. Of course he'd seen him handle a hit or two, sometimes without batting an eye.

Heck, Chuuya himself was hurling Dazai like a ragdoll in their reunion, which was their last meeting. And you could argue that he was going easy on him, but Dazai has mostly withstood the same damage (as far as I could see), and Chuuya was as bitter as ever.

So that kind of contradicts both what we knew of Chuuya so far, and how their dynamic was shaped to be. I mean, that just makes Chuuya a hypocrite, yeah? What makes him care now, all of a sudden? What makes him care at all?

Well, to me, this backasswards reaction implies one (or more) of the following:

- Dazai rarely got physically hurt during their partnership and thus this is an unexpected thing for him to see (during a mission).

- The four years of separation made Chuuya unsure of how much Dazai can withstand physically now. Also the fact that he isn't in the mafia anymore, aka fighting enemy organizations on the weekly, would naturally make Dazai lose his touch in a way, what prompts Chuuya's reaction.

- Dazai getting taken off guard took him off guard which led to panic. Especially since the situation was (momentarily) out of their depth. Seriously wtf even was Lovecraft?

- During the dungeon scene Dazai was an enemy, while in the Lovecraft fight he was as an ally. The difference might be significant to Chuuya.

- This has always been Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt regardless of the situation.

- "Only I can hurt him like that" ahh logic

- Asagiri was still experimenting with their dynamic and thus there are some inconsistencies.

This scenario didn't play out again (after their reunion) for me to exactly determine which one is more plausible, but it is 100% canon for Chuuya to shamelessly show his concern and run to Dazai to check on him before properly dealing with their opponent, which I find to be such an appealing layer to their dynamic, and a good spin on the type of character he gets stereotyped as.

Bonus: Dazai also becomes a softy when Chuuya's hurt, especially post corruption. Dead Apple alone displays that multiple times.

All in all, Skk are doing a terrible job at maintaining their 'hostile' and 'antagonistic' relationship post their reunion. Freaks.

[sieglinde-freud]

oh im obsessed with this actually… who ever wrote this one i am kissing u on the forehead and hugging you real tight… inigo is such a loverboy im kkkhhhhhhijnsdnfng

[astralhope]

Rank 54: The true king of Numbers!!

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[tender-rosiey]

yoo rose I started following you a little while ago and I really liked you. I saw that your requests are open and I would like to ask for a scenario where Nanami arrives drunk and his wife takes care of him while he talks about how he loves her I liked all your stories with my businessman <3

unsteady love — nanami kento x f!reader

a/n: so glad that you do, love! <33 hope you like this one too 🫶🫶

kento stumbles slightly into your house, catching himself against the wall before you steady him, “kento… you’re drunk.”

he blinks down at you, the usually serious expression on his face replaced by something softer, more relaxed. there’s a faint flush coloring his cheeks, and he lets out a low, rumbling chuckle.

“I am not drunk,” he declares, his voice slurred just enough to betray him. “I’m... just—” he waves his hand vaguely in the air, searching for the right word. “...enlightened.”

you suppress a smile and guide him to the couch, sitting him down gently. “sure, ‘enlightened.’” you shake your head, amused. “stay put, I’ll get you some water.”

as you move to the kitchen, you hear him muttering to himself. “can’t believe I’m drunk,” he grumbles, almost like he’s scolding himself, “what kind of a husband does that?”

when you return, cup in hand, he’s sitting with his head leaned back against the couch, his eyes half-closed. but when you approach, he perks up immediately, watching you with a soft, slightly dazed look.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says. his voice is quieter, more sincere, and it catches you off guard for a second. nanami isn’t exactly shy about how he feels, but this is a side of him you don’t see often.

“drink,” you instruct, handing him the water to avoid the sudden rush of emotions his words bring. he takes the glass without complaint, but even as he drinks, his eyes never leave you.

after a few sips, he sets the glass down on the table and leans back again, sighing contentedly. “you take such good care of me,” he says softly, almost to himself, “I don’t deserve you.”

you chuckle at the sudden sentimental turn. “kento, you’re acting like I’ve just saved your life. you had a few drinks. you will be okay.”

he shakes his head, looking at you with those hazy, half-lidded eyes. “it is serious. you’re always here for me. always... my constant. my…” he trails off, struggling for the right words in his drunken haze, “you make everything better. I love you.”

his words are raw, unfiltered by the usual restraint he keeps on his emotions. there’s a vulnerability in the way he says it that makes your heart tighten.

“I love you too,” you reply, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

but before you can pull away, he grabs your wrist gently, pulling you closer. “no, you don’t get it.” he’s more insistent now, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that’s surprising given his state. “I really love you. I think about it all the time, all—the time.”

you laugh softly, though his words tug at something deep inside you. “you can tell me all about it when you’re sober.”

he doesn’t let go, though, his grip still gentle but firm. “I mean it. you make the worst days worth it. you... you’re everything.”

a soft laugh escapes you, touched by his sincerity but also aware of how much the alcohol is loosening his tongue. “I know, kento. you’ve told me before.”

nanami pouts—a rare expression that looks so out of place on his usually stoic face. “but I don’t say it enough. you deserve to hear it.”

he blinks sloppily as he stares at you before murmuring, "I need to marry you."

you let out a soft laugh and kiss his cheek, "we are married, you silly man."

in a once in a lifetime incident, your husband stares at you, eyes wide, face reddening by the second. he looks down at his feet for a few moments, then you see him hum, "that's nice."

his seriousness is almost comical given the state he’s in, and you can’t help but tease him a little. “y'know, you’re awfully chatty for someone who insisted they weren’t drunk.”

he lets out a sigh, leaning his head back again and releasing your wrist, “fine, fine. maybe I’m a little drunk. but it doesn’t change the fact that I—”

before he can finish, he shifts too quickly and almost topples off the couch. you rush to catch him, but you fall with him, and he blinks, disoriented, before breaking into a lopsided smile. “maybe a lot drunk.”

“yeah, maybe,” you say with a laugh, helping him sit back up. “come on, let’s get you to bed.”

as you help him to his feet, he leans heavily against you, his arm draped over your shoulder. you guide him down the hallway, his weight familiar but the situation still amusingly foreign.

normally, he’s the one doing the taking care of—you can’t help but relish this rare moment where the roles are reversed.

once you’ve managed to get him into bed, he pulls you down next to him, refusing to let go of your hand. his eyes, though heavy with sleep, remain fixed on you with that same soft, adoring look.

“you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbles, his voice thick with exhaustion and sincerity, “we have to go to malaysia together.”

“sure,” you smile, brushing your fingers through his hair as his eyes finally flutter shut. “goodnight, kento.”

just as you’re about to pull away, his hand tightens around yours once more, and he whispers, half-asleep, “I love you.”

his words are softer now, less dramatic than before but still brimming with emotion.

you watch him for a moment, his features relaxed in the dim light, and feel a warmth spread through your chest. this side of him—unguarded, affectionate, and a little silly—is one you cherish just as much as his usual seriousness.

as he drifts off, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, letting his words linger in the air, “I love you too.”

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[eraenaa]

Unexpected Affections

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Tag List

Synopsis: With just a smile, you had managed to bewitch and enthrall the stoic and cold prince. 

Warnings: Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, ¿Softer Aemond?, ¿Simp Aemond?, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Overstimulation, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 7,287

A/N: Really milking softer Aemond bc I'm pretty sure I'm going to take a break from him once s2 is released.

He’s broken beyond repair. Too far gone to be saved. Aemond knew fully well that is how the others see him. The boy who had his eye taken was never the same. Darkness was his only solace, the walls too far up that no one dared to scale it and reach the true him— simply taking the dark and villainous scrap of his true self that he was willing to give. All seemed to give up on him— simply let him drown in his darkness, except you. 

Like all things good, you came unexpectedly. You were a mere visitor from Highgarden, a noble lady who came with your lord father as he tended to business in the capitol. Aemond could never understand how you looked at everything and everyone with rose-colored glasses, but he supposed he should be grateful because if that trusting naivety in you were lost, your light would never come close to his looming darkness. 

“Who is that?” Aemond asked his family’s most trusted knight, Ser Criston Cole. Your figure caught his attention; it was as if you were floating along the gardens of his home. A small smile on your face and flowers adorned in your hair. He stood near the balcony, discussing important business with the knight, when his train of thought was lost and captured by your mere presence. “Lady Tyrell, her father has business here with the crown,” the knight said absentmindedly. Aemond nodded and took one last glance at you before walking away. 

The thought of you was quickly forgotten by the prince. He saw your presence as just another to add to the list of nobles at court who cowered upon his stature. However, you lingered in the back of his mind as he often saw glimpses of you walking through the halls of his home. Aemond stood in the gardens once more, this time waiting for his sister and her children when he caught your eyes. He waited for fear and apprehension to present themself in your orbs, the same reactions he would elicit from everyone. However, the prince was taken aback as you smiled at him. A small, respectable smile before you stole your eyes and continued to your promenading.

Aemond blinked his eye rapidly, trying to discern if he saw correctly or if it was a cruel trick made by his impaired vision. Aemond pursed his lips as he felt himself walk towards where you had passed. There was this odd pull about you— more than your beauty; if it was just that, a comely face was never one to put the prince in a trance. It was an ethereal element that beguiled Aemond quickly. He had not even spoken to you, yet you had already managed to put such an effect on him. 

He watched from a distance as you bent down and assessed a flower, your fingers caressing the velvety petal and bringing it to your nose to discern the fragrance of it. Aemond felt that pull once more, his feet carrying him closer to you. When you stood straight, your brows raised in surprise as you had noticed you were no longer alone. “My prince,” You greeted with a curtsy, his silvery locks the warning sign that you spoke to royalty. Aemond was rendered silent, his mind already spinning at the sound of your voice. What was this? He could not explain what had overcome him. You bit your lip as no greeting left the prince’s lips, him only staring at you with an unreadable expression on his angular face. “Are… are you well, my prince?” You asked, daring to step closer and take hold of his arm to examine if he was truly well. 

You watched as his lips parted and closed, no sound leaving it. “Perhaps you should find some shade; the heat may be too unbearable,” You say quietly and never take your hold off his arm, guiding him towards the shade of a willow tree in concern. Aemond was screaming at himself on the inside, hating that he was making a fool of himself, that he couldn’t even speak, simply letting you guide him towards the shade and making him sit on a bench. Your concern for his well-being consumes your face and his being. “Do you wish for refreshment, perhaps w—“ Aemond shook his head as he finally regained his senses. 

You chewed on your cheek as the prince stood. “I am fine; I apologize for the— the intrusion, Lady Tyrell,” He said stoically, and you shook your head and smiled at him. “No need for apologies, my prince; no intrusion was made. But are you certain that you are well… you look a bit pale, my prince.” You say and quickly regret it as your mind reminds you that maybe that was just his true complexion. You swallowed thickly as you saw him pursed his lips, fearing that you had offended the prince. Aemond did not know how to take this concern— this kindness that he was never the receiver of. “I am quite well; good day, my lady.” He walked away in haste as he feared that if he stayed longer in your presence, he would make a further fool of himself. You stood there in confusion; your lips parted as the prince almost ran from you. 

The thought of you haunted Aemond until the night, his arm still tingling from where you had placed your touch. He replayed the scene in his mind over and over again, trying to convince himself that your concern was fictitious— that it was a ploy to be in the good graces of the prince. But as he recalled the way your eyes bore into his, nothing but sincerity was evident in your orbs. How are you this kind? To a stranger, no less. Aemond was restless as he lay in his bed; his mind kept conjuring your interaction in the gardens, refusing him any other thought than you. 

When morning came, Aemond had made great lengths to avoid you, silently embraced as he had made a fool of himself in the gardens. As his training ended, Aemond tried to find reprieve from the loud keep in the library. Aemond believed he was successful in his avoidance of you, but as he stood by the threshold of the silent room, he saw, as you were seated in one of the chairs, a book in your hand as you silently read. His presence was still not noticed. He could easily slip away and be successful in his avoidance of you, yet, just like the other days, his body could not help but be pulled towards you. 

When you noticed a presence standing before where you sat, you flickered your gaze upward and locked eyes with the prince once more. “Prince Aemond,” You acknowledge and move to stand to greet him, but he silently raises his hand and hinders your actions. You copied his silence as he took the seat across from you. You traveled your gaze through the library, uncertain what to say or do. “I hope you are feeling better,” You say quietly. Aemond licked his lips as he was subjected to your dazzling presence once more; even though he had willed himself to avoid it, it seemed you were inevitable. 

“I am; I was simply tired,” He said, making certain to place coldness in his tone, hoping it would deter you and no longer present him with your kindness he stubbornly took as deception. Aemond felt his breath catch as you gave him another smile. A relieved smile for his well-being that was so genuine that he could not stubbornly convince himself that it was not. 

You stayed silent as you felt that that was what the prince preferred. You tried to return to your reading, but his velvety voice sounded through the room. “What business did you have here?” He asked. Aemond was testing you, presenting you with his cold and calloused self to see if it would have any effect on you just like it did the other. He watched calculatingly as your lips parted, and he found trouble to remove his gaze from your plush lips. “If I am being honest, I am not quite certain, my prince.” You said truthfully. You watched him raise his brow at you to explain further. “My father has business he needed to tend to here, but he had not disclosed to me the reason for it or why I needed to join.” Aemond nodded and watched as your eyes were never removed from his gaze, surprised that you could hold onto his intensified stare. 

“So you have no purpose here?” He asked harshly. He expected a frown or a look of offense on your face, but he watched as you smiled as if you were amused and shrugged, “I suppose not.” Aemond stayed silent and continued to asses you as you returned to your reading. 

“Do you like philosophy, Prince Aemond?” You asked after a stretch of silence, unable to bear the eerie and suffocating quiet. Aemond took a moment before he answered your query that no one had been interested in asking him before. “I do,” Another small smile appeared on your lips as you nodded. “Then have you perhaps read this? I have been mulling over the proposition of the archmaester for days now, but I cannot seem to comprehend it fully,” You say and turn the book you read towards him. Your fingers brushed as the prince took the book from your hands, and you could not hinder the chill that ran down your spine as you felt his cold, calloused fingers against yours. 

You listened earnestly as the prince began to speak and explain the proposition you had trouble comprehending, going to great lengths to explain his thoughts on it, assisting and receiving any questions you had. Aemond paused in his explanation, feeling as if his mouth had gone dry by his prolonged speaking. He turned to the window and saw as the once high sun began to set; he returned his gaze to you, your chin resting on your palm as you had listened to his every word, clinging onto every syllable he had uttered. Aemond gulped as he realized his mistake. He had revealed too much of him; too much of his thinking was poured out in his explanation of philosophy. “I must take my leave,” he suddenly said, disregarding that he was in the middle of explaining another philosophical theory that was different from the first you had inquired about. 

“Oh,” You said and straightened in your seat. Aemond wanted to frown as he detected disappointment in your tone and eyes. That cannot be, can it? Why would anyone be disappointed in his departure? “Good day, my prince,” You curtsied as you stood, not wanting to take more of his time. Aemond began to walk away, cursing himself for his actions, but he halted by the door as you spoke. “Thank you for your explanations… they were quite enlightening,” You said, and Aemond turned to you; the smile returned to your lips as you looked at him gratefully. Were you truly thankful? Thankful for him? Was that even a possibility? Aemond gave a curt nod and willed himself to walk away from you. 

You were in the gardens once again. You were terribly homesick, and the gardens of the Red Keep were the only resemblance of your home that you could cling to. You were walking distractedly, a buzzing bee following you around as the flowers in your hair attracted the insect. You tried to squat it away, afraid to get stung when you accidentally missed a step, losing your balance, and were met with the cobbled floor of the gardens. Your jaw slacked in pain, and you tried to stand, your cheeks burning in embarrassment that someone may have seen your ungraceful fall. There was a stone by your side, and you tried to hoist yourself upon it, hissing as you accidentally placed pressure on your swollen ankle, but you were determined to stand and walk back to the keep to ask for assistance.   

Unbeknownst to you, Prince Aemond had been observing you from above the gardens, and the moment he saw the sight of you falling, he made hastened steps to reach you. “My lady,” He called, trying to hide his panting, and approached you as if he had only stumbled upon your presence. You sat before a rock, and he noticed you hiding your injured limb from his view, “My prince,” Aemond watched in slight awe as you still tried to stand and curtsied before him, still holding onto formalities even though you were clearly hurt. 

“Are you well?” This time, it was now Aemond to ask the question. You placed a tight smile on your lips, pretending that your injury was not at all bothering you. “I am fine, and you, my prince?” You asked, trying to speak of pleasantries. You shifted your weight on your uninjured leg and, for once, hoped that the prince would leave. “Are… are you certain?” Aemond inquired, wondering why you would pretend. “Y-yes,” You stuttered, and Aemond narrowed his eye. 

You sighed and placed your head on the ground. “I… I tripped, and I think my ankle is injured— but I do not wish to bother you, my prince. I can wait for the swelling to subside.” Aemond frowned at your words. How were you so concerned about his well-being but not your own? Aemond shook his head and stepped closer to you, silently scooping you in his arms. “Wh— My prince!” You said in shock as you were stiffly settled into the hold of Prince Aemond. Your arms circled around his neck to stabilize yourself. “You don’t— I could have just waited for a squire or maid to assist me,” You said in a slight panic and could not even bear to look at the prince in embarrassment. “You are clearly in pain,” Was all he said as he carried you back inside the castle walls, the both of you earning strange glances from the members of the court. 

Aemond returned you to your assigned chambers, trying to ignore the erratic beating of his still heart and the tingles on his skin from where he felt your touch. He placed you gently onto a settee, inhaling a whiff of your scent, and he felt intoxicated. He placed a respectable distance between you as the both of you waited for the maester he ordered a squire to fetch. Your gaze was still planted on the floor, and Aemond noticed the flush on your cheeks and the harsh bit you had on your lip, embarrassment clearly evident in you. 

“I did not wish to bother you, my prince.” You say quietly, your tone heavy with guilt. Aemond could only hum a response, clueless as to why you were apologizing. The maester finally arrived, and Aemond stood by the side as he oversaw the maester, tending your injury. You tried to keep your pained reactions to a minimum as you felt conscious of the prince’s presence, but you could not help but hiss in pain, and your face contorted in discomfort as the Maester tried to move your injury. Aemond swallowed thickly as he himself was overcome with a phantom pain by the mere observation of yours. 

“Will it heal, maester?” He asked in concern, stepping forward. “Yes, my prince, it is only a swollen ankle; it shall heal by the morrow,” The old man spoke and stood, placing a cold, damp towel upon your injury, and you reached forward to secure its place. Aemond gave a nod, and his eye followed the maester who exited your chambers, leaving the door open. Aemond returned his gaze to you, your eyes finally meeting his, and he once again felt his breath caught in his throat as you smiled at him. 

“Thank you for your assistance and kindness, my prince,” You say gratefully, and Aemond felt his knees weak. No one had ever called him kind before. As always, you were met with his silence, but you dared say you were getting used to it. After a few moments of Aemond trying to comprehend your words, he gave a curt nod. “I shall leave you to rest; good day, my lady.” He said and willed himself to walk away from your presence he did not wish to leave. 

Another day had passed, and Aemond had not seen a glimpse of your presence he had been trying to avoid just the day before. He had the urge to knock upon your door and to see how you were faring with your recovery, but he placed great restraint on himself as his mind deemed it inappropriate. So he waited another day. He stood by the gardens, his eye assessing every passerby as he waited for you. He had been stood by the balcony like a statue for the better part of the morning, but your presence had not been noted. 

Aemond decided to walk around the castle, passing along every corridor in search of you and ready to act surprised as you two would eventually encounter once more. It was nearing sundown, and he had not seen a glimpse of you. Perhaps she is still resting. His mind told him, but Aemond was not entirely sold by that reasoning. 

The prince attended his family’s supper in his mother’s chambers. He sat quietly in his seat and saw the aggravated and tired faces of his mother and grandsire as they came to the table late. “We apologize for our tardiness; the small council has been overburdened by a matter.” The queen explained as she took her seat. “What matter?” Aemond asked, always curious about the dealing made. “The crown cannot afford to pay the dues it owes to House Tyrell… it is too great a sum, and the lord has threatened to withhold back crops for the upcoming winter if we do not pay their price.” The hand spoke, and Aemond pursed his lips, knowing that the debt to your house had been since the time of the conqueror. 

“Surely they could be reasoned with— they would not want to offend the rulers of Westeros,” Aemond said quietly and heard his mother sighed deeply. “Perhaps, but no meetings and negotiations can be made at the moment, for they had already left late last night.” Aemond’s hold on his fork tightened as he heard the words. You had gone without even a goodbye.

“I just do not know what we can offer to match their hefty sum,” the lord hand said and downed his wine. Aemond traveled his gaze around the table, his sibling not at all listening to the matter. “Offer me,” Aemond spoke, and he felt all eyes shift toward him. He turned to his mother, the queen’s lips agape in shock at his words. “The crown does not have money to pay our debt— then is it not a custom to offer marriage instead?” He asked rhetorically; the practice was made for centuries, but the price was usually paid with a princess, not a prince. 

“Aemond, mere debts are not paid with a prince.” The queen said. “But it is not just a mere debt, now is it, mother? The Tyrells had as well placed a threat to the kingdom’s security over this winter— and the mere debt you speak of has been established since the age of the conqueror,” Aemond turned to his grandsire, who he knew would understand his proposition. The Hand pondered over his grandson’s words. “But you are set to marry the Baratheon girl,” Alicent countered, and Aemond scoffed. 

“We owe nothing to the Baratheons, and do you not think that this matter looms greater?” He asked, “Lord Tyrell only has a daughter, does he not? In time, the seat shall pass onto me as well, alike with the arrangements with Lord Borros. And with this, the crown will no longer be indebted to their house,” Aemond said, determined to see you once more. “That is a most favorable solution,” The hand commented, quite content by his grandson’s proposition. The queen sighed and took a moment to think of the proposal. “Very well then,” she sighed, and Aemond hindered the smirk threatening to slip his lips. 

“I shall draft the proposal tonight and send a messenger to Highgarden first thing tomorrow,” Otto said in finality. “No need, I shall offer the proposal myself in person,” Aemond said, and he saw apprehension in his mother’s eyes, disbelief by his decision, but none hindered him. 

It was afternoon the following day when he had reached High Garden, Aemond riding atop his dragon through the morning, eager to reach his destination, you. “My prince,” Lord Tyrell greeted him by the gates of their castle. “What business is so urgent that the prince of the realm had to fly his dragon all over here to the reach?” They had not even reached inside the castle walls when Lord Tyrell could no longer hinder his curiosity. 

“It is the matter of the crown’s debt,” Aemond replied, his eye scanning the halls in search of you. He heard your father reply with an ‘oh,’ clearly anticipating the conclusion of the matter. “Is the crown ready to pay us the price owed?” Aemond hummed as he passed a portrait of you hung on the wall of your home, his eye entranced by the picture. “In a way,” The prince danced upon the matter momentarily. “In lieu of a payment, the crown is prepared to offer a marriage,” Aemond stated and watched concussion flush over your father’s face. 

“With respect, my prince, but that is an insulting offer. The crown has owed my house a great sum accumulated since the age of conquest!” Lord Tyrell seethed, and Aemond gritted his jaw. “I believe you are too hasty with your outburst, my lord. The crown is offering a union between me and your daughter— an opportunity for your only child to be a princess… your grandchildren having the Targaryen name.” Lord Tyrell shook his head, “My daughter is already bound to marry another— titles are one thing, my prince, but there is still a debt to be paid.” Aemond felt the fire in his veins awaken at your father’s words. You are to be bound to another; that cannot be. You cannot be anyone else’s when you had consumed his entire being— when you had presented him with such hope and kindness that he was certain he would find in no one else. You could never be not his. 

Aemond licked his lips, certain that the words he would utter would be a gamble. “Very well then… a counteroffer, my lord. The crown cannot fully pay your price, so we offer a royal marriage and a fourth of the sum owed to you,” Aemond said, assessing the father's reaction as he mulled over the proposition. “I shall need time to reach a decision,” Lord Tyrell finally spoke after a long pause. “Of course,” Aemond agreed. “For the meantime, you are welcome to the halls of High Garden, Your Highness.” 

Aemond waited as your father disappeared from his view before he went on his search for you. He walked through the unfamiliar corridors and found himself being led outside towards the gardens where he wagered you would be. When he saw you seated by a fountain, a smirk curled on his lips. However, it was quick to fade as he had noticed you were not alone. Aemond made furious steps towards you to announce his presence. 

You were conversing with another when you felt your skin tingling and the familiarity of a cold gaze upon you. You turned to your side, and your eyes widened as you saw the prince approaching. You blinked slowly, trying to discern if your mind was playing a cruel trick. But when the prince stood an arm’s length away from you, where you could see him clearly, you knew that it was not a trick. “My prince,” You say almost breathlessly, curtsying lowly before the son of the king. 

“How… what brings you here, your highness?” You asked, disregarding the earlier presence you were with. “Business for the crown,” He replied, eyeing the man who stood beside you. You turned your eyes toward where the prince placed his gaze intensely. “Oh, my prince, this is Prince Martin Martell,” You introduced, and you felt Martin stepped forward and bowed. “Martell? Are you not a long way from Drone?” Aemond gritted as he let out his hand to shake the prince’s hand. He wanted to smirk as he saw the man’s tanned face twist into a wince before quickly masking it. “Yes, my prince, I come as a suitor for my lady,” He explained, and Aemond pursed his lips at his words. 

You licked your lips as you suddenly felt the fresh air become tense, “Would anyone like some tea?” You suddenly interrupted the intense gazes of the two princes, walking in between them as you made your way toward a nearby table that had the afternoon’s refreshments. Aemond tapped his finger on the table, his eye shifting between you and your intended whilst you poured tea into everyone’s cup. “If I may ask, what business warrants your presence here, Prince Aemond?” Prince Martin inquired, and Aemond reluctantly shifted his attention from you, who was licking sugar from your fingers. 

“A proposal for House Tyrell,” he said bluntly, swallowing thickly as your lips parted at the mention of your house. “What proposal, if I may ask,” Your turn to inquire. Aemond licked his lips and debated if he should give you the true manner of his visit. “A proposal for you, my lady, to be a princess of Westeros.” You feel dazed by his words, your body freezing in shock, and you seem to forget how to breathe. 

Aemond looked at you expectantly, trying to search for any reaction in your eyes other than the pronounced shock. You were saved from his expectation of a reply when you heard your father calling for you. “I— excuse me, my princes,” You say in a haste and hurriedly went to your father’s call. 

“What is happening— the prince just informed me of his proposal— in front of Prince Martell!” You panicked, recalling the scene to your father with wide eyes. You watched as your father paused his lips, an aggravated sigh leaving his nose. “Bold of him to inform you of such proposals when I had not even given him my reply.” You shook your head and warily turned to the gardens, where you saw two princes seated by a distance. 

“Where did this proposal come from? I… I do not understand,” You whispered, recalling your days in the Red Keep; the moments with the prince that you tried to sell to yourself were meaningless to him. However, you supposed you sold yourself with a lie because those moments were enough for him to ask for your hand. Hope was dangerously blooming in your heart, emotions, and festering feelings you tried hard not to succumb to for the past days, now inevitable. 

“The proposal comes because the crown cannot pay the debt due to us… instead, they are offering a marriage between you and the prince and a fourth of the sum owed,” The hope that was dangerously blooming and had rooted itself in your heart quickly wilted, willing yourself not to show disappointment on your face. “Oh,” Was all you could utter. “What is your decision then?” You asked quietly as your father guided you further into the walls of your home. 

“Your courtship with Prince Martell has been settled for three years since your sixteenth name day, but no formal betrothals are in place, and we are in no obligation to the Martells,” Your father stated as you two walked along the corridors. “But Sunspear is a long way from here,” Your father added, “And though Kingslanding is closer, and if I were being honest, I would prefer you to be a princess of the whole of the seven kingdoms rather than just Dorne,” You twirled with your hair as you listening into your father’s musing. “But this marriage is just a way out of their hefty debt,” You nodded along and waited for your father to decide. 

“So? Which one of them?” You asked as you needed an answer, your nerves growing unbearable. Your father took in a deep breath, “I shall leave that decision to you… it is you who shall marry one of them; the money is not truly that much of a concern— it was simply a bargaining tool for the crown to remember how indebted they were to us,” Your father explained, and your lips parted as you were given a daunting task. 

“Can I speak with Prince Aemond for a moment? I… it is— I need to speak with him,” you say, and your father gives the nod, “I shall have him meet you in the drawing room,” You waited nervously for the prince, your mind running as to what to say to him. You stood when the prince entered the room, your lips parting, ready to speak something you were uncertain of, but Prince Aemond spoke first. 

“I know this is quite abrupt,” Aemond spoke and dared to step close to you, trying not to grow distracted by your mere ethereal presence. “It is my prince,” You agreed. “Could I just ask why?” Aemond frowned at your words; it was quite a straightforward proposal. “The crown owes your house,” He said matter of factly, “I know, but we ask for coins or land but not a marriage,” Aemond licked his lips, “And I am aware that the marriage is a substitute. However, you would understand that no one would be that inclined to accept a proposal just because the one giving the proposal is in debt.” 

“Is this a rejection?” Aemond took another step, closing most of the gap between you. He was aware that he was scowling severely, scarily even, but you did not seem to be frightened, a first for anyone he had encountered. “More of a question,” Aemond’s brows raised at your words. “Well, it’s clear that this proposal is just an obligation for you, and if I am being honest… I prefer someone who would not see a mere business dealing.” 

“All marriages are business dealings,” You pursed your lips at the prince’s words. “I supposed they are… but not every marriage is just a business dealing.” Aemond licked his lips, and the both of you were enveloped in silence. “I guess what I’m saying is… I would not feel inclined to choose someone who proposes because it is their obligation,” You say slowly, surprised that you managed to come across your answer. If it were any other situation where the crown was not indebted to your house, you would accept the proposal eagerly, but your heart idealistic heart yearned for someone who wanted you truly and did not see you as a mere opportunity. 

“My lady, I think you have gotten the wrong idea here,” You furrowed your brows as all were clear to you. The proposal was just an obligation… isn’t it? “No one forced me into this proposal; the queen could not find a solution. This marriage had not even crossed her mind— I…” Aemond passed as you waited on bated breath for his explanation. “I have offered the marriage not because of duty or a way for the crown to escape their debt but because… I— I want you. I want you to be my wife.” 

You looked at him with clear apprehension, and Aemond actually believed that you would flash him your sweet smile— perhaps a blush on your cheeks as he had said words so unlike him. “You want me?” You asked incredulously, and Aemond nodded, boldly taking your hands into his. “But why? We barely know each other?” You asked. Frowning as your eyes go downwards toward your hands clasped with the prince’s cold ones. “Why?” Aemond asked in disbelief you would ask such a question? You nodded. 

“Because I just do,” Aemond licked his lips as it would appear that that was the wrong answer, watching as you stole away your hand and your lips turned into an adorable pout he was very much tempted to kiss. “I— Because you are pretty, overly pretty,” Aemond spoke and hoped that would sway your mind, but that seemed even to offend you. “And because you are knowledgeable, I have never met anyone who had the same philosophical interests as me,” Aemond quickly added, and he wanted to smile as that lessened your frown. 

“And most of all, because you are kind. You are… you are not one to judge— you came to Kingslanding without any criticism or fear of me. You actually saw me as an actual person and not…” Aemond trailed as he felt a sense of relief as he said the words he thought none could ever compel him to do so. “Not like a weapon?” You almost laughed as you often heard others allude to him as such. Aemond nodded and took your hands into his once more. 

“You want me because I was kind and took an interest in you?” You asked, making certain that was his reasoning. Aemond nodded and dared to tuck a stray hair that obstructed his view of your face. “If that is all that it took, what if then another comes along and presents you with such kindness and interest… am I simply to be set to the side?” Aemond sighed and cupped your cheek as he felt his stomach twist at your words and at the look of doubt in your enchanting eyes. “What if—“ You were ready to voice out another doubting scenario, but your lips were kissed shut. 

You feel heat bloom into your cheeks, and you are stunned as you feel the prince’s thin and cool lips upon yours. Your eyes were wide at the sudden contact, but they fluttered to a close as you savored the feel and taste of him. “I do not know what more to say to quench the doubts in you… but you must know, I have never felt such a way— I have never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you.” Aemond whispered against your lips as you breathed heavily, your body feeling afloat and alight. 

“The situation is not the most favorable one; believe me, I understand your qualms— but it is the only opportunity I had to make you mine,” You feel liquid fill your stomach, and words cannot find you. The only thing you could do was go to the tip of your toes and kiss the prince’s lips once more, a chaste kiss than the first, but it was a kiss that gave the prince his answer. 

Three moons passed before your nuptials were settled. You stood by the door of the great hall, waiting for it to open and lead you to your soon-to-be husband. “Are you certain?” Your father asked as he clasped his arms with yours. You breathed out a laugh and nodded your head eagerly. “I am,” You said with a smile and took a deep breath as you heard the trumpets from the other side of the door. 

Aemond sighed longingly as he saw the smile on your lips again. The smile that he had never been the receiver of before. The sweet and kind smile that led to all of this. 

You beamed at your groom as he took your hand into yours, unable to remove your gaze from his unique lilac eye throughout the whole of the ceremony. “I am his, and he is mine,” You recited after the Maester, feeling Aemond lightly squeeze your hand as you said the words, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. When it was Aemond’s turn, you bit your lip as you felt your smile grow wider, your heart beating loudly in your chest, and delight taking hold of your whole body. “I am hers, and she is mine,” Aemond stated, eye filled with sincerity and promise. 

You breathed in a deep breath as your husband stepped forward to seal your marriage with a kiss, your cheeks burning as you heard the cheers of your guests. “My flower,” Aemond whispered against your lips as you parted, his finger brushing away the stubborn lock of your hair once more. You could only smile upon him, your heart in your eyes— just one act of kindness, a simple smile had been the catalyst for you to find your love. 

You chewed on your cheek in anticipation as you were being led down the halls by your husband, the bedding ceremony promptly taking place after the feast. 

Aemond spared no second before claiming your soft, sweet lips once more. Gently pushing you upon a pillar in his chambers to keep you steady and flush against his body. “Aemond,” You called as you clung to his neck, his lips trailing downwards and his fingers undoing the laces of your gown. “You’re all mine, my flower… forever bound to me, my kind little wife.” Aemond hummed as he tasted your skin, his lips kissing your bare shoulders, the sleeves of your dress draping off. “I’m yours, my prince,” You sighed, but you felt slight dread in your stomach as he clicked his tongue in disapproval and slowly shook his head. “I am your husband… you must learn to call me by my name; no more titles and formalities,” Aemond lowly said, wanting to hear his name be uttered from your lips. 

You nodded, “I’m all yours, Aemond,” You said and whimpered as your husband’s eye darkened, and he forcefully slammed your lips. You feel your dress pool to the floor as he successfully removes it; he takes hold of one of your thighs and makes you cling to him, leading you to your shared bed. Aemond gently laid you down and parted your lips to admire the view of you sprawled before him. The thin sheet of your shift reveals all to him. 

You gasped in utter shock as you felt him tear away the thin cover you had, fully exposing you to him. A strained moan left your throat as Aemond dipped down and took one of your tits into the hot cavern of his mouth, his tongue teasing the bud. You clung to his silvery locks; just that action alone made your core tighten painfully. Aemond smirked as he moved to pay attention to the neglected mound, your hips grinding upon his as you sought friction. 

“Aemond, I…” You called, uncertain of what you wanted, but all you knew was that you needed more. “Yes, wife?” He hummed and placed open-mouth kisses upon your stomach. “I… I—“ You stuttered, not knowing what to ask. Aemond sighed and moved his head to kiss your lips, “Do you want more… do you want to be pleasure, my flower?” He asked, as he could not be so cruel to leave you in such a state for much longer. You eagerly nodded your head. 

It did not take long for you to be a moaning mess, your eyes rolled back in your head, and your back arched as Aemond placed his mouth upon your cunny. Licking and teasing your folds, “Aemond! Oh, gods!” You called in utter pleasure as you felt his thin lips enclose your sensitive bud, sucking and licking it. You battled with your mind-numbing pleasure as you propped yourself on your elbows to watch his actions. He looked up at you, grinning as his fingers teased your undefiled whole. You bit your lip and breathed heavily, boldly taking hold of the leather strap of his eye patch. You saw as his eye darkened, and you hesitated, but Aemond gave a nod. 

As you removed his eye patch, Aemond pressed his finger into you, your eyes rolling back as you saw his sapphire eye. Aemond returned his lips to your cunt, sucking on the bud as his fingers pumped in and out. He felt your walls clench around the digits and your moans growing louder. Through your closed eyes, you feel him smirk against your skin and curl the digits inside your cunt— a loud moan leaving your lips as you come undone. Your hips violently move against his face, and the pearl of your cunt hitting gains his angular nose. 

“Oh gods,” You say breathlessly as you feel Aemond’s weight atop of you. You undid the laces of his vest as he removed his trousers. You looked downwards and saw the whole of your husband, his warm, pulsating length resting upon your thigh. The head of his cock weeping a clear liquid. “W… will it fit?” You say in disbelief, never having thought that something so phallic could be so… large and appealing. “Of course, you were made for me, my flower.” Aemond lowly said and kissed your lips as he aligned himself with your cunt. 

You dug your nails onto his shoulders as he slowly tore his way through you. Him hushing your cries of pain and kissing away your tears. “It hurts— Aemond, I… it’s too much,” You cried, your legs wrapping around his waist. Aemond reached downwards and drew circles upon your cunt to aid your pain. You waited for the pain to bleed into pleasure. Aemond tightly shit his eye as he felt the tip of his cock brush against a rough spot in your cunt, him fully sheathed inside you. He made cautious thrusts, watching as you would acclimatize to his length, and when he saw your eyes roll back, that was his sign to fasten his pace. 

Aemond’s found your lips once more, muffling your moans and whimpers as his cock was relentlessly hitting the spongy spot in your cunt that made your core come undone over and over again. You were on the verge of your fourth climax, each of them coming quickly after the other, and your thighs started to shiver at the pleasure that had enveloped you fully. “Aemond… It’s too much. I— husband, I cannot,” You cried as you felt a different sensation, an odd pressure in your core unalike the other times you came. Aemond clenched his jaw as his cock twitched inside your cunt, “Just… come for me one more time, my flower,” He gritted as he wanted to coax another peak from you. 

Aemond laid his thumb flat against your nubbin and rubbed circles once more, your voice already hoarse from your loud moans. “Oh… Aemond!” You cried as the quivering of your thighs grew, and you felt the pressure in your core come undone; a differing climax from the first three overcame you. Aemond groaned loudly and tilted his head back as he spilled his seed deep in your cunt. You breathed heavily as you tried to comprehend what had happened, wetness pooling between your thighs, and an embarrassed blush spread through your cheeks and neck. 

Aemond smirked and shook his head, trying to soothe the mortification in your eyes. “I knew you were capable of it,” He hummed and kissed your lips. He knew it was perhaps too much to test your limits in your first night together, but he could not help himself; he needed to have you in such a way. “My perfect wife,” he hummed against your skin, and your reply came through your tired smile. 

[masterhallmark]

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

[sugarandspite05]

i just need to express my love for this scene.

they literally coalesced in the most beautiful way imaginable. and i've been seeing a lot of people upset with the lack of a kiss. but, this scene should make very clear the love they hold for one another, and i actually enjoy it more without a kiss. touching forheads like this is actually a form of affection seen in the undercity, too. (cry) but what im trying to say is that their destinies are literally intertwined now forever, in every single timeline they will find each other. they were doomed to their own fates to save eachother. and jayce CHOSE to die with viktor, viktor pushed him away. he knew that this was his own end. jayce would rather die than live WITHOUT viktor. I MEAN, COME ONNNN. SOBBINGGGG. all viktor wanted was acceptance. in season 1 jayce would refer to viktors illness as a burden, and viktor in his machine form was his way of ridding himself of all his imperfections, as well as for everyone else. he wanted peace by eliminating human suffering.

but jayce realized viktors beauty in his imperfections. he loves him with them, and showed viktor he was never broken.

and that my friends is HOW DOOMED GAY YAOI SAVED ALL OF HUMANITYYY (and ekko ml) RAHHHH

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”