#out of high tide ( ooc )

[korzionarchive]

Okay, I have gone ahead and made a new blog under a new alias (albeit it being still heavily under construction so bear with me). Mutuals are free to ask for the url and I will probably be more selective about who I follow back this go around.

[kingbcwser]

//hiiiiii new and old mutuals

[captainseamech]

//sometimes I think about High Tide being in the team with Optimus and the others and just- imagine how awkward it would be whenever Optimus says "transform and roll out!" completely forgetting that High Tide is a submarine QORHEKDOD

[phoenixduelist]

Soon.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 5)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 4, Part 6

summary: You deal with the aftermath of last night. Lyla has a party.

warnings: very suggestive. mentions of sex, vulgar language, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this is so so so self indulgent i cannot express it enough. probably ooc asf: you've been warned.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8.5k (i'm on a strict plan and had a lot to get through lmfao)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

and they were good.

Eventually, you're bundled into your room in a fit of giggles and with shaky legs. Even in Miguel's hoodie, insisted upon by the man himself, the sheets feel a little colder after he leaves. Initially, he had collapsed on top of you; smothering you with the heat of his bare skin and the sweats that ride down his hips, dangerously low. You're pushing him off, or trying to, heavy and leaden-limbed. Whether it's the weight of that orgasm or the remnants of that blunt that turns your arms to jelly – you don't know.

Honestly, you don't think you care. He's resorted to laying his head on your chest in mock sleep – clearly still high as fuck – and stretching out on top like a housecat. He's warm on your lap; so you bring a hand to card through dark brown curls that rest on the flat of your sternum. 

You'd never have known it: Miguel has a playful side, beneath all the sarcasm and red tape. 

In the morning, he's gone - with only his hoodie as proof that something happened. For you, it's a hazy memory - warmth tinged in the lazy light of last night's high. It comes and goes like the tide on a quiet beach: remembering how he touched you, the feel of bare skin on bare skin, the way it burned when he kissed your shoulder…. 

And it's gone, again. You're left tracing the hickey at the base of your neck, and it aches . A little moment like that, fooling around like teenagers on prom night, and it shouldn't feel as intimate as it does. Groaning into your pillow, you burrow into the expanse of your roommate's hoodie. With a busy week incoming, you can't afford to be distracted – not like this. 

And so, you bury the urge to knock on Miguel's door, and put your lips around the words that mean… more. You want more. It feels greedy to verbalise it, as if you've seen too much of him already. The irony; humping almost fully clothed and yet, feeling so bare. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth – blood, maybe. Maybe he's finally done it: stuck the knife between ribs to find out what colour you bleed. Miguel's a scientist after all; prone to making things go pop and snap , slicing into specimens with a steady hand.

It's too much, too close for comfort and you can't afford it: affection and intimacy in any shape or size was a fatal wound , especially after last time. Instead, you let the morning waves crash over its outline left in sand. A body – blood and gristle and guts – washed away by the tide. 

You find yourself pushing down dangerous feelings. After finally getting comfortable with Miguel, all that progress seems for naught; bumbling around the apartment like a deer finding its legs. The first morning, you're spared a confrontation as he's already gone from the apartment. Earlier than usual, and you hand-wave away that little voice in your head that says: he's avoiding you . 

He's not. He can't be. And you know it because he's able to look you in the eye. Briefly, but it's much longer than you can last. You have a whole conversation when he comes home and it only makes you want to rip out your eyeballs a little. 

You're on the sofa, hands in your lap and antsy. There's a stupid soap on the TV, but you can barely concentrate; head too full of cotton to make sense of the screen. You're so lost in thought that when the door clicks open, you jump half a foot into the air. 

"Shit." You turn, watching Miguel kick his shoes off at the door. Flashing him a nervous smile, you wave limply and turn around to cringe. 

"Heeey," God. You burrow into the cushions. 

"Hey." He's got a plastic bag in hand. He drops the rucksack on his back, and goes straight to the kitchen. 

You call out. "Takeout's in the fridge." 

He hums, and you hear clattering from the doorway. Turning, you watch; sleeves rolled up in a smart shirt. You can see the muscles in his back from here; the ripple of hard lines under cotton. Craning your head, you can't help but be curious. 

"Stop sticking your nose in."

You're halfway off the couch, and stop dead in your tracks. 

"M'not-" 

He peeks out from the doorframe; catching you in the act. 

"You're not allowed to look."

It leaves you spluttering, getting off the sofa like a spoilt child. He's telling you not to look, and like clockwork you're itching for it; padding towards the counters. Miguel must have superpowers the way he catches you, leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his broad chest. You're on your tiptoes and trying to get a glimpse into the kitchen. He shifts in the way, tight-lipped and shaking his head. 

"Meant it. It's a surprise." You cock your head, like you can't believe what he's saying. 

You step to the other side and he steps along with you, blocking your view. 

"... Miguel ." You say it slowly, incredulous. You're stepping closer, ever so slightly, but he stays stony-faced and resolute. 

For the first time in 24 hours, since you basically fucked him in the room next door, you're looking each other in the eye. Squinting, you hold his gaze but he barely cracks a smile. 

"Sit down." He says it sternly, but his voice is soft. "Please."

With a flourish, you bring your hands up in surrender and inch back towards the couch. It's the usual chopping and thudding of cabinets being opened and closed. It takes everything not to look back, but you force yourself to concentrate on the TV. 

Finally, he places a bowl in front of you before flopping to your side. He's still in his work clothes, adjusting the waistband of black slacks and popping off the buttons at the top of his shirt. You're trying not to stare, not to drool at the way he just melts ; sinking into the seats like a lolly on a hot sidewalk. When he brings his bowl closer, that's when you inspect the contents of yours. 

"Is this…?" You start, and he hums; taking a healthy slurp of noodles in the process. 

You shake your head to no one in particular. It's the very same instant ramen you've stopped buying, after constant complaints and lectures from the man himself. There's enough salt in here to banish a demon, he'd spit. In retaliation you'd bite back, saying, maybe you'll fuck off where you came from, and retreat to your room to eat in peace. It's your favourite flavour; perfectly salty and flavourful and definitely not good for you. In the broth, there's the milky white and yellow of an egg, with spring onions and fresh veg breaking the surface. Even before you've taken a bite, you feel that warmth at your chest, again. 

He doesn't even look at you, pointing a finger at the screen instead. 

"I thought Jenny was dead?"

You clear your throat of that lump, rising up like a fishing boat spit up by the waves. 

"That was her twin sister, Jane."

"...I thought Jane was dead." He frowns. 

"No, no, Jane faked her death in the mining accident; and ran off with all that inheritance money… were you paying attention last episode?"

"No, you watched it without me."

"Yeah, but you said you hated this show–"

" –only because it's a total rip-off of La Patrona ," 

"And yet, you're begging me not to watch without you–" 

"Begging seems a little strong–" 

He's kept his sharp tongue, and you're too occupied with arguing to notice the hand wrapped around the back of the sofa; how you're both inching closer until your legs come to rest on his own. You're focusing on his lips, drawn in by a pull that seems stronger than gravity. 

He's saying your name, and you snap out of it. Blinking up at him, a deer in headlights, you remember yourself and look away. Tension pulls at the both of you, a string as thin as fishing wire that snaps with your realisation. You like the way he looks, flushed and flustered after a long day. You could make him feel even better, right now, if he wanted it. You'd drop to your knees and wrap a hand around his cock, pulling those beautiful sounds out of him – the very same ones you'd fucked yourself to the thought of, not so long ago. 

If, being the key word. And with the way he shifts back, away from you, you're not too sure if last night was a flash in the pan or something more. 

Everything about Miguel screams dangerous; flags in deep scarlet that are telling you to stay the fuck away. He doesn't commit, sleeps around; refusing to define or put a label on any significant relationship in his life. He won't even admit, say the words, that he's fucking a half-dozen girls right now; even when you've got concrete proof in the form of messy lips and banging on the walls. Okay, maybe half a dozen is a stretch; but three girls, on three separate, multiple, occasions for sure. Probably; you haven't technically seen anything but if the precision of last night was any indicator – the terrifying speed at which he made you fold like a lawn chair – he had significant experience. He was a fucking veteran; dedicated to the sport for the love of the game. 

You find yourself caught in his web all the same; kicking yourself at your naivete. He's turned away now, seemingly unfazed, making little comments at the show you've got on TV. It's becoming increasingly clear where you stand: caught in a game of chicken with your roommate – a man with balls of steel, if last night was any indicator. You're ill equipped to deal with such levels of conflict avoidance, despite years of hands on experience. 

The question remains, stuck in the gaps of your teeth like udon, thick and dense and chewy: how exactly does he feel about you? Where do you belong? 

~~~

It's been quite the week and a half, mostly spent trying to make sense of Miguel. One minute you're at each other's throats, and the next, he's talking you through rate laws and kinetics equations. Apparently , you've got a lecturer he used to have, and he insists on sidling up to you on the dining table; prodding at your paper and liberally crossing out errors. His inconsistency has you irate ; and it means you get petty, picking fights and laying easy bait. Frustratingly enough, all it does is make that tension worse; thick and choking ; in your little apartment. 

The only thing you have to look forward to is the party at Lyla's; of which you've volunteered to help set up. It means food, and drink, and a couple hours of respite, hopefully. 

On the day, you get to Lyla's early. Miguel's at work, promising to be there in a couple of hours, and so you take the subway instead. Yet again, walking up to her apartment feels like another world – one of marble and faux fur and lots of animal print. When she lets you up, you're left with only your thoughts and the quiet hum of the elevator. In the mirrored wall, you take stock of your outfit: snug denim and a little shirt. Admittedly, your wardrobe felt a little lacking – jeans and a nice top being your go to. Right now, your only hope is that the dress code would be more forgiving. 

The door swings open and Lyla's pushing you towards the living room, chattering away at a mile a minute. It's overwhelming as you're dragged into the light, half a dozen boxes and its miscellaneous contents strewn onto the floor. 

"–and Jess has the nose of a bloodhound, so if anything seems even a little off, she'll know… "

You nod slowly as Lyla squeezes your arm with so much force, it cuts off blood supply. 

"Like clockwork. We need this to run like clockwork."

Fingers numb, you watch as her features set; a wide smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and shadow that cuts her face just so. Overcast and dramatic; simply put, it's terrifying. 

There's a loud Pop! from behind, making you jump. 

"... sorry !" Peter's voice rings out, and there’s a tangle of brown hair and dark eyes peeking over the kitchen island. 

Walking over, you can see he's splayed out on the tiles, balloons littered all over the place. A balloon pump, long discarded, sits in its packet at barely an arm's length. More importantly, though, he's got a bundle of red hair and freckles in his arms; little May, sniffling and whining with what's left of a balloon between chubby fingers. 

"Might need some help, over here…" He says it softly, rocking the little girl in his lap. 

Lyla rolls up non-existent sleeves, face scrunched up in concentration. She closes her eyes ; fingers dancing as if typing on non-existent keys. 

"...okay, okay, change of plans." She turns to you, eyes wrenched open and hands clasped together – Machievellian in nature. You suppose; with the sheer extent of her party planning skills, able to pull strings this way and that; it fits. "We've got exactly 3 hours and 23 minutes before everyone else arrives, plus about 17 minutes, give or take, before Jess does."

"How do you kno-" You start, but Peter presses a finger to his lips. She's in the zone, he seems to mouth. 

“I need you and Pete to get these balloons done, and then we can set up the archway. I’ll call Ben, ask him where the fuck he is, and then we’ll see if we can get some banners and streamers up…. God , and the food…. think I need to threaten someone at the catering company, give me a sec,” She stalks off, muttering something that sounds important. Pete shrugs, kicking over a box of balloons; black, white and gold, a lot fancier than you had expected. May is eased off of his lap, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She sniffles, holding her head up bravely. It's probably the cutest thing you’ve seen all year.

“I give her 5 minutes before she realises Miguel’s going to be late.”

“...and God help us when she does.” You finish for him, settling down on the cool marble. 

You make a start on the balloons, opening the untouched packets and pulling out a shiny pump.

“How long have you known each other?” You busy your hands by stretching the neck of a deceptively small balloon.

“Oh, Lyla?” He frowns. “A couple of years, maybe. We met because of Miguel – same with Jess and Ben, actually.”

It's your turn to frown. Miguel was the glue? It’s a picture that doesn’t quite match up with the meet-cute that you were painting in your head. If they met because of your roommate, it must’ve been a contentious group project, or someone rear-ended in the parking lot, that brought them together: something with a lot of shouting and arguing, you decide. 

Maybe Pete sees the surprise on your face, because he adds, “I’ve known Miguel for longer, though… and he’s a lot nicer than people give him credit for.”

“...I didn’t say he wasn’t.” Nice? Not a chance. 

“But you were thinking it. Promise, once you get to know him–”

He’ll give you a mind-numbing orgasm and pretend it never happened. Or something like that.

“ –he gets less confusing?” You grumble. “I’ve seen enough, I think.”

“So maybe he’s a bit of a prick. But under that cold, stony exterior; buried deep, deep, deep…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Deep down , somewhere, he’s got a heart.”

“I just,” You pause, choosing your next words more delicately. “I didn’t expect his friends to be like you guys. Fun and–” …a little batshit, and… “ – spontaneous. He’s so stoic sometimes, it’s worrying. Like, he’ll just blank out on the couch–”

“–frowning in the corner like the wall’s pissed him off personally? Yeah, I’ve seen that one a few times.”

“He’s just so hot and cold! Sometimes we’re good and almost friendly, and then all of a sudden he’s avoiding me at all costs, holed up somewhere. A-And then he’s making me breakfast, like that blip didn’t even happen… did I do something wrong? Has he said anything to you? I-I just want him to–”

The man besides you chuckles. And then, you flash him a violent look that has him flattening his features in a hurry.

“He just… takes some time to warm up, s’all. He’s changed – changing. I mean, we went to highschool together and I didn’t even realise ‘til we met again in college.”

“You went to highschool with him?”

“Yeah, but I was like, 2 grades ahead of him. We didn’t really talk except… we were both in this robotics club afterschool.”

“Robotics? Wires, and circuit boards, and–”

“ –robots. Honest-to-God, hand-on-heart, stupid little robots. And being teenagers with way too much time on our hands, we’d build ‘em, and then make ‘em fight to the death. Miguel… he took it way more serious than everyone else there. We’d mess around with goobers and battlebots – hell, sometimes we’d skip to get food. He was.. He was always there, though, hunkered down in the corner and tinkering away at something.” 

“Now, I wasn’t popular in highschool, at all – I went to Robotics Club , so I think that about sums it up – but I remember… no-one could really understand him. Top of his class, always up for awards, but people thought he was a little weird. Come rain or shine, he’d always be in that corner seat with a screwdriver basically glued to his hand. And we didn’t have a clue what he was building.”

He seems wistful, thinking back to that time. 

“When I finally asked him what it was, at the end of maybe… 2 semesters,” He smiles, one that deepens his dimples and brushes the corners of his eyes. “He finally told us. It was a… a fucking arena for all the stupid stuff we built. He’d really thought it through, too: all our equipment would get jumbled up, so he made little boxes and sections to separate them in. There was an LED pad he’d programmed to keep a scoreboard. It was made out of this… self-healing vinyl so we wouldn’t need to replace it too often. He got so excited when he was explaining it all; about how it folded up so we could bring it with us when we changed classrooms, and… honestly, I think they still have it there.”

He sighs. “I think that’s all he knows how to do, y’know. That’s the language he speaks, the only one he really understands. Taking care of people, giving them what they need. You’re barely friends with Miguel, then all of a sudden he’s giving you hangover cures cooked up in his kitchen, and cussing you out in the morning, ‘cus you went a little too ham after a breakup. Or…he’s bringing pizza to your apartment at 3 in the morning, ‘cus he knew you were lying about being okay after your Uncle’s funeral.”

He’s got a faraway look in his eyes, an absentminded hand in May’s. Her stubby fingers curl around his, and then he’s back, snapped out of that distant daydream.

“Give it time. He’s been through some shit. Miguel’s got layers, like–”

“Like an onion?” You offer, weakly.

“No, no. Like one of those cheese wheel things that May likes so much. With.. with the wrapper and the waxy red stuff on the..?” He handwaves it away. “Forget it. MJ knows what they’re called.”

~~~

You put your back into helping set up. You don't quite get the theme, but Lyla explains it all whilst you hang the contents of those boxes on the wall: a maximalist, hedonistic mish-mash of food, drink and decor. She wants it to feel like if Gatsby three raves, and actually fucked that sad twink – whatever that means. The visual representation of an orgasm, but classy, she says. More, more, more; and if your back doesn't hurt by the end of it, then it's not enough. 

She's got you hauling ass across her front room, draping fabric and moving furniture like it's your job. Ben arrives and between the four of you (five, if you include May clambering on decor), it's all done. You can't help but think she's done a great job: the whole room decked out to look like the cover of an expensive wedding in Vogue – excessive but in a way that's only classy when rich people hire someone else to do it. Lush fabric in lieu of streamers draped on the walls, balloons sculpted into arches and tastefully dotted around the floor. The theme is black and white, with hints of gold, and gentle strings of pearl hang from ceilings and walls. It looks good, because it has to; Lyla's made you move everything around about a million times. 

Gleefully, she rubs her hands together, turning to all of you. "Food's going to be here in 10, I think. You guys get changed and I'll double check when Miguel's bringing the cake."

Peter and Ben disperse into various rooms – with Peter noticeably rubbing his back, May on his arm. You're left with Lyla, awkwardly looking towards her for guidance. 

"...get changed?" You look down at your woefully casual outfit. It seems you've come completely unprepared. 

"Yep. Miggy didn't tell you about the dress code?" 

…it's becoming increasingly difficult to cut your roommate some slack. With everything that's happened, rather conveniently, he's neglected to make any mention of a dress code. 

Sheepishly, you start, "I didn't know, shit –" 

Lyla cuts you off and brings a hand up to silence you. Bouncing on her toes, she's almost giddy with excitement. 

"I know exactly what you can wear!" 

She leads you upstairs to her room. You perch on her bed; and whilst you grapple with the fact that she even has an upstairs, you lose her in the deep depths of a walk-in. Lyla rummages through almost cartoonishly; wading through fur and leather and giant coats like an explorer hacking through dense forest. Eventually, she resurfaces, waving a bundle of white fabric. She hands it to you with a grin. 

She gives you some room, pushing you through the double doors of her closet to get changed. The dress feels amazing on: well-made, thick fabric and endlessly snug in all the right places. In the mirror, you marvel at how such a simple garment transforms you: a silky slip that stops about mid thigh, draped beautifully on your shoulders, and hugging your hips like a glove. There's a little slit at the side that stops just a bit higher than you'd usually be comfortable with, but… it works. Incidentally, your makeup and hair compliments the look; soft and pretty and–

You hear a small gasp from behind the door. Lyla's got her head peeking out into the room, and then she's at your side with a gentle hand on your arm. She spins you around in front of the mirror. 

"You look…" Her eyes light up, marvelling at you. " Gorgeous. You have to keep it."

"No, I can't… I won't . I was already underdressed, and this must have been expensive. I can't."

"No shit, of course it was expensive. But that's not a good enough reason… I barely wear it, and I've got more than enough clothes. Keep it ." She's smiling, head just over your shoulder in the mirror. 

"It's not too much…?" 

"Honestly, babe, it's not enough." She giggles. "D'you like it?" 

It feels weird to look at yourself like this, dolled up and pretty – contrasting how you've felt in the past few months. It feels like you've been in survival mode; exhausted and perpetually tired. On, all the time, and sick with worry about one thing or the other. You've forgotten to take care of yourself, and as a result, this feels different. 

Lyla notices: the way you stand up a little straighter and adjust your hair; the way you try your hardest to clamp down a smile. Do you like it? Slowly but surely, you nod. 

"You're allowed to like it, y'know," She says, softly. "You look happy. You look good. "

You believe it, when she says it. You let that feeling carry you down the stairs; one hand on the railing and Lyla babbling away with an arm looped around yours. 

~~~

Miguel is late – really late .

He was meant to be at Lyla'a about an hour and a half ago, which means he's rushing to get the cake. For once, at least that goes smoothly; and he picks up a little red velvet affair, piped to perfection and with " Happy 27th, Jess!" written on its face. It keeps him company on the way to the party, sitting snug on the passenger's seat as he drives more carefully than before. He figures it's better to be safe than sorry; already this late, there's no need to add cake smasher to the list. 

The day's been draining, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with his favourite podcast. He knows his friends like the back of his hand, and knows that when Lyla says a small celebration for Jess, just a house party ; what she means is going the whole 9 yards, an excess of food and drink and disgustingly expensive decor, all for the sake of a birthday. He's had a glimpse of the guest list, and recognises about half of the people there – Lyla's too friendly for her own good, he thinks. He'd tried to talk her out of it, knowing Jess would be more than up for a smaller dinner, but she had her mind set. And it's impressive, what she's no doubt managed to achieve in the past few weeks of meticulous planning. 

Nevertheless, it's not something he has the energy for, right now. Work had been a slog; and he'd had a couple hours of lectures before a meeting with his thesis supervisor – where she had ripped his outline to shreds, frankly. He's still sore from that verbal lashing, but fears the one he'll get from Lyla more, if he doesn't come. 

And… and there's you, headstrong and stubborn and insisting on attending; even though he had made it abundantly clear you were under no obligation to do so. It must be out of spite, he thinks. But with the dress code, he can't help but daydream as to what you'd look like; maybe, a pretty little dress on, hair done a bit different, and… ohhh fuck. He didn't tell you about the dress code. 

He's gripping the steering wheel, annoyed at himself for such a little slip up. And it's not just the fact that he's forgotten; but he knows, considering the past few days, you might take it the wrong way. He's not stupid ; he knows he's been wishy-washy, all because it's hard to decide how he wants you or if he should. More than anything, he feels guilt; getting you high and oh-so close to fucking you, just the way you deserve, and then… he can't. It's hard to explain, and even harder for him to wrap his head around. That logical part of him screaming: you can't fuck your roommate without consequences. But he's already had a glance into Pandora's box, a taste of that sweet fruit – of temptation , strong and heady. 

It's that taste left in his mouth, of something sweet, that lingers when he walks into the party. The door's open, but even from down the hallway he can feel it: the rattle and shake of pumping music. He squeezes himself in, dodging the mass of bodies packed into the main room. The lights are low, music loud and the celebration well underway. More than anything, he's hoping it's so busy he can just show his face for a bit, and then slip out. 

He towers over other people, shuffling past, giving a nod or hello to all the people that slap his back and greet him. A scattered chorus of 'Hi' s and 'S'up, Miguel's, and then he's placing the cake on the counter, pushing past half-empty drinks and beer bottles. He snatches one up, looking around. He's watching for the furred collar that Lyla's no doubt wearing, or mousy brown in the neon lights; but with the pumping mass of bodies, he can't see much. 

He's ready to check upstairs when the crowd parts, and he sees you ; swirling in the mass. It makes his chest bloom with heat; you're gorgeous, dressed in white like an angel and smiling in a way he's never seen before. And then, his heart stops as someone else comes into view: another man, somewhat taller than you. There's an arm wrapped around your waist, and the man dances up against you in a way that makes something cold and bitter flare up within him. Miguel stays glued to the spot, for some reason, unable to take his eyes off of you: illuminated in the light, beautiful and flowing like a spectre. And like nails on a chalkboard, all he can do is watch as you dance up against someone else. 

His mouth goes dry, and then he's making a beeline for the double doors at the back; a glassy entrance to a balcony tucked away. The air is stifling in there, but when he's on the balcony, finally, he's able to breathe. 

There's someone nursing a brightly coloured drink, in its corner. Jess, big hair braided back and a velvety red jumpsuit on. She turns at the clatter of the door opening, before bursting into a wide smile. 

" Miguel!" She cheers, enveloping him in a hug. 

"Hey," He smiles warmly, sinking into her arms.  "Happy birthday, Jess."

"Thank you, kindly." She curtsies, producing a faux southern twang and laughing all the same. Then, she wags a finger at the man in front of her. "You're late . "

He rubs his temples. "I.. I know."

"Lyla's gonna fucking kill you. "

"I know."

She gives him a playful punch. "You okay, over there?" 

He gives her a rueful smile. "Yeah, Jess. Of course. When am I ever not okay?" 

"I've got a list, big guy, but we'll be here all day." 

She laughs and Miguel glances over through the glass; drawn to you even now. The song's changed, a bass line that rattles the panes, and you're still glued to that guy . Just as quickly, he looks away. 

With a front row view to that display, Jess raises an eyebrow. She follows his gaze, connecting the dots. 

" Oh. " Her voice is gentle. "S'that her?" 

" Her?" Miguel echoes.

" Her . Your roommate. The one Lyla says you're fucking."

"You and I both know– " 

"Okay, okay, maybe she didn't say those exact words…. but there's something there, for sure."

"Not possible . " He says it plainly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

She leans against the railing, taking a careful sip of her drink. 

"Xina says you're doing stupid shit to impress her. Peter says you're making heart eyes whenever she's in the room. Ben says– "

"Xina? What's she got to do with anything?" He's deflecting, Jess notes. Miguel, usually so quick with the sarcasm, and he's refusing to touch the other half of what she said. 

"...you're tutoring half of her classmates."

He purses his lips. "Yeah, but I didn't think –" 

"...you didn't think girls would talk?" She splutters. Of course it sounds stupid, when she puts it like that. 

"Yeah, well, Xina's still not talking to me , so…" He trails off, shaking his head. 

"It's almost as if you broke her heart into a million tiny pieces, Mig." She rolls her eyes. "Get your head out of your ass, man." 

She turns to face the city and Miguel does the same, with a heavy sigh. It's quiet for a moment, with only the sound of cars below and dull thrum of speakers behind to keep them company. He's always liked this, he thinks. A moment of calm with Jess, the only sane person for miles around. They're able to sit in comfortable silence, in a half-minute that transcends words. 

He reaches into his front pocket, pulling out a little parcel that's wrapped up in red paper. He nudges Jess, handing the present over. 

"Happy birthday." 

She smiles, tearing into the little package. Then she stops halfway, heart melting at what peeks through. 

" Miguel… " She coos, a hand on his arm to steady herself. Out of the packing paper, she produces two little boots; red and blue and made of soft wool. "How did you…?" 

"It wasn't obvious, but… sick in the mornings, switching to soda when we go out to a bar…" He allows himself a smile. "And I asked what's-his-face, just to be sure."

"See, I can't tell if you actually don't know my husband's name or–" She cuts herself off with watery laughter. "F-Forget it. Fuck, I'm gonna cry all this makeup off,"

He takes a sharp intake of air. "They were… mamá made them." 

"Thank you, oh God . I know how much this–" 

He cuts her off with a hand wave, as if to say; don't worry about it. "Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding. Your husband seems nice, and he treats you well. Although , he's kind of–" 

" Corny . Yeah, we get that a lot." She's half laughing, half crying, fanning her face to stop her mascara from running. 

He wraps a big arm around her, pulling Jess into his side. Happy tears, he hopes as she blubbers. 

"I think m'getting too old for this… we don't see each other enough, lately… a-and I would've been happy with the dinner, then Lyla told me there was an emergency over here–" 

"She did good. Really good. Don't tell her I said that, though."

She nods, bringing a finger to her lips with a smile. "And you don't tell the other's about…"

"Of course not. When you're ready, Jess."

"I love you, man." She grins wide, and Miguel returns it with one of his own; an increasingly rare megawatt smile. It quickly falls with her next words. 

"If you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll break your kneecaps and blame it on the hormones." 

She grabs his beer, opening it with her teeth, and hands it back to him. A little scared, Miguel takes a healthy swig. 

"Oh, shit. " Jess exclaims, batting his arm. "I completely forgot. Lyla's got some stupid games on, upstairs."

"Who with?" 

"The usual suspects, Mig – though Peter's long gone and… I don't even know where Ben goes, actually. But you can bring your girlfriend up, if you promise not to eyefuck her across the room."

" Gross , Jess."

She raises a hand up in surrender, leading the way back inside. 

~~~

Miguel's here all of a sudden, and in a moment you thought would be more of a bang ; you lock eyes with him as Jess herds you upstairs. It's less of a sharp pain at the ribs and more of a crescendo; pooling warmth spreading to fingers and toes. He's still in his work clothes: crisp white shirt with a couple buttons undone, and black trousers. A little formal, and yet, he doesn't feel out of place; wearing the monochrome of the dress code, and looking twice as good as any man in the room. Somehow, you've forgotten how tall he is; lumbering over everyone else as he cuts between the crowd. He snakes behind you, giving you a strange look as you walk up the stairs. All of a sudden, you're weary of your dress, tugging down its hem as best you can. Miguel stays behind you, a gentle hand at the small of your back. 

"You're okay," He whispers, sending shivers down your spine. " I've got you ."

He doesn't mean it like that , but it's too easy for you to close your eyes and imagine what it could be; words he kissed into skin when you're on top, struggling to take his length. 

You ignore that coil tightening at the pit of your stomach, choosing instead to focus on Lyla stumbling through the door,  trademark pink shades slipping down her nose. Behind her, there's a little sitting room; plush furniture and a massive tv – with quite a few consoles in the corner, you note. She shouts your name, barely audible over the music. 

" – oh, and hi, Miguel!" She's too drunk to be mad, and you don't notice Miguel visibly relaxing. She takes your hand, calling over to Jess just behind you. "We saved you a mocktail, J."

Taking your seat, you settle down next to Lyla; perching with your legs crossed on the seat. Miguel sits some way away, on the opposite side of your makeshift circle, clearly trying not to make eye contact. Jess elbows him, and he turns to her, before having a heated argument; all hushed whispers and hand gestures. It's the most animated he's been in the past week, for sure… 

"We're playing Never Have I Ever, Jess! Like back in college."

The woman in question rolls her eyes, giving a flash of pretty dimple. Back in college, Lyla says, when they'd drink cheap beer and spill their guts in dive bars – a tradition Jess wasn't too upset to see go. She didn't have the stomach for it then, and she doesn't now; but it probably wouldn't hurt to relive some of that fun. 

It's a warmup round, so to speak; a strong drink thrust into your hands. You take turns going around the circle, starting off relatively tame. First, it's Never have I ever skipped a class. Everyone, all college aged or older, drinks to that one. It's practically a given. And then someone chips in with Never have I ever broken a bone . Again, most people drink – taking advantage of the freebies to get a little tipsy. 

It's Lyla that throws out the juicy ones, after a couple of duds. 

" Never have I ever faked an orgasm." She says it from behind her glass, giggling. 

Less people drink, this time. Sheepishly, you raise your glass, taking a healthy gulp. Lyla takes the opportunity to gasp, clutching at her chest and fanning her forehead dramatically. 

You're whispering back, half laughing and half telling her off, "That's not that weird, Ly. Hasn't everyone…?"

"Not me. How's your partner meant to know it's shit if you fake it?" 

It's her sincerity that makes you laugh; wide-eyed and completely incredulous. You're clamping down the giggles when you look around, immediately locking eyes with Miguel. He gives you an odd look, as if amused. 

You're up next, and roll up metaphorical sleeves. "Never have I ever had a threesome. "

There's murmuring around the room, and a couple of people take a drink. Lyla does, with glee, and someone else you don't quite know the name of. What surprises you, however, is when Miguel takes a swig; eyes locked onto yours. 

You feel heat rising, blinking away as best you can. You still feel his gaze, of course. That game of chicken, the one you've so desperately been trying to avoid, rears its ugly head. You think Miguel is winning. 

The questions get more and more provocative. Never have I ever been pegged… or pegged someone else. Lyla drinks, Jess takes a gulp of her fruity mocktail…. and so does Miguel. Never have I ever been cheated on. Most people drink to this one, including yourself. A shitty teen relationship barely counts, you suppose; but you're taking every opportunity for a drink right now. 

Never have I ever cheated on someone. One or two people drink, and at least they have the decency to be ashamed. When Miguel drinks, however, you shift in your seat. Something settles within you, discontent. Yet again, your image of the man in front of you changes. For someone who sleeps around, maybe it's not too much of a stretch for him to cheat ; but the word feels so final, too cruel. It doesn't match up, for some reason, with your Miguel, who brings you piping hot noodles and hot water bottles on a bad day. 

This time, he doesn't meet your eye. 

Lyla decides she's bored, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

"New game – truth or dare!" There's faux groans from around the room. Lyla sticks a tongue out, ignoring them, and continues. "Jess, as the birthday girl… you get first pick."

Jess lights up, gorgeous , with the hoops at her ears swinging to and fro when she looks around. You haven't spoken much to her, but she seems like good fun; making a whole song and dance of picking the first victim. 

It's obvious, in hindsight, who she'd pick. There's only one person in the room visibly squirming, almost sweating , at the idea of something so out of his control. 

" Miguel," She says, turning to the man sinking into cushions. "Truth or dare?" 

He gives her a look, and she combats it with one of her own; the kind that could melt steel beams, and says It's my birthday, don't be a dick. 

" Dare ." He grits his teeth. 

"I dare you," She pauses for dramatic effect. "...to show us your porn watch history." 

Imperceptible, his eyes flash towards you. You notice , mouth dry. He groans. "We're not 19 anymore, Jess. It's childish. I'm a grown ass man–" 

" Truth or Dare , Mig."

"Truth." It's quick – which is very reasonable, considering her tone. 

"When was the last time you fucked someone?" 

Everyone turns to Miguel. He's looking at you, of course, wincing at the words he's about to say. 

"I don't…" He's swirling the beer bottle in his hand, and then he shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know. A… month, maybe."

" Bullshit!" Someone whisper-shouts, and then there's some laughter. 

Jess' eyebrows jump up, and Miguel bats her concerns away, whispering something under his breath. You can't quite catch it but his body language is clear: don't ask. He downs the rest of his drink, lips around the bottle, as some liquid trails down the side of his jaw. You're watching, unrepentantly obvious, and he catches your gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he swipes a finger to the liquid and licks it up.

Heart racing, you force yourself to look away and try to concentrate on the next few dares. The circle seems to have moved on, more interested in whatever juicy shit they can drag up in the next poor victim. 

You've all but zoned out when it's the turn of Jun, egged on by a couple of friends. You frown. He's that guy you were dancing with earlier, caught up in heady music and swirling lights. Jun is handsome, in that famous starlet kind of way; square-jawed, pretty eyes, and dark, cropped hair. Boy wonder is lean-lined with a nice smile; the very same that had reeled you in on the dancefloor. Maybe it's the liquor, but you think he's looking at you now; raking sharp eyes over your figure. 

"How do you know him?" You whisper to Lyla. 

She cups a hand to your ear, more than halfway to being absolutely wasted. 

"Used t-to work with him. He's nice enough, I think…? There was a rumour around the office; and apparently, he's got a massive di-" 

"Truth or dare?" Someone says. 

"Dare. Obviously." He flashes a smile in your direction. 

You squirm, and Lyla shines with realisation. 

"Oh my God." She whispers, and then she's interrupting before you can stop her. "Makeout with the hottest girl in the room. A proper one, tongue and teeth and–" 

You elbow her, square in the ribs. Thankfully, she takes the hint. Jun cocks his head, as if mulling it over. He gets up. 

Your head spins with the drink, and you're concentrating on keeping your sneakers flat on the ground. Head down, you don't notice the man walking over. He crouches, tapping your knee. 

"Oh." You say, blinking up at him. "Hi, again."

"Hi, again." He smiles. It's like you're the only two in the room, and with the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your lips… "Can I kiss you?" 

The words get caught in your throat, so you nod, fumbling. 

He places a hand to your chin, gently pushing you closer and then you're kissing; sweet and gentle. You separate, and you open your eyes to find his blown . You've got tunnel vision: his lips are pretty and wonderfully swollen – you just can't help it. 

You go back in again, parting your lips to let him in. He's cradling your jaw, tracing a hand up your thigh and it feels good. Closing your eyes, you sink into the heady haze of booze, grabbing at his shoulders. They're not as broad as Miguel's, and Jun isn't as clean shaven. When you snake a hand to the nape of his neck; it's rougher than your roommate's hair, cropped into a boyish cut instead of Miguel's gentle curl. Sighing, you both come up for air, and you're almost disappointed at the distinct lack of red-brown blinking back at you. 

Nails on a chalkboard, and you're back in the room. You look around to amused faces, catching Lyla wide-eyed besides you. Jun's cheeky, placing a quick peck to the side of your mouth before sitting down. From your vantage point, you're scared to look, to really look , in fear of what you'll see. 

Miguel, in the corner, with a white hot grip on his beer bottle. Catching that stormy gaze, something just clicks. Something resembling power, absolutely intoxicating, that heady rush you got from kissing someone else. Or, more accurately, getting a reaction from your roommate. Notoriously unwavering, and yet … he reveals a gap in his armour. A silent swipe to the ribs that doesn't kill, but draws blood. 

People are dispersing now, growing tired of the games. Lyla darts off; with the attention span of an excited pomeranian, and the excessive alcohol, she's already lost interest. You take a breather, sinking into plush cushions and catch Miguel's eye. In the commotion, he's tossing his beer and walking up to you, as if gearing up to say something. 

Someone sits into the seat besides you: tall and handsome, but definitely not Miguel. It's Jun, who smells like fresh flowers and cut grass, nudging your side. 

"You're good at that," He says, with a little smile. 

"Good at what?" You say, confused. 

"That kiss." He seems a little bashful, probably sobering up. "It was… good. "

"Not…" You're distracted, eyes flicking over to find Miguel. He's gone. "Not my best work, I think."

He stretches an arm around the back of the sofa, caging you in a little closer, and all you can do is blink up at him. 

"....you want to try again?" 

He's handsome. He's flirting . And he's present; able to give you clear signs that he wants you. It's more than a certain someone can provide, and you're left with a deep-seated need that no-one else seems to be able to fulfill. Four words ring out in your head, clanging around like pinball. You. Might. Get. Laid. 

It's enough to have you leaning up against Jun, a hand tracing circles in his thigh and fluttering your lashes as best you can. Hopefully it's a look that's says seductive, and not pink-eye. This far into the night, you don't quite have the energy to care. 

Heavy petting and drunk giggling; you spend God knows how long in that little room, whispering stupid shit to each other. You introduce yourself, and so does he. A brief overview of your life; and you find yourself desperately trying to skip the small talk. Jun works with computers. You're a student. Jun is very good with his hands. You're a visual learner. Everything seems to fall into place. 

Soon enough, you're swapping numbers and leading him out the door to somewhere more private . His apartment ; you find yourself hoping, as you make your way downstairs. 

He's draping a jacket on your shoulders, and you wade through the crowd. The lights are spinning a little less, you find, holding onto Jun's palm. In that great big room; people packed in like black and white sardines; all you're looking for is something to tether yourself to – or someone. Relationships, you've learnt, were overrated. You're young, and single, and gorgeous ; able to bag whoever you want. And what do you want? A hookup, clearly; something simple and uncomplicated, without the mess of feelings to untangle yourself from in the morning. 

There's a commotion from a corner of the room, and Jun pulls you back; craning his head to see. A jumble of people, crowded around the epicentre. He nods towards the bustle. 

"Isn't that Miguel?" He shouts over the bass, and your eyes widen.

You push past, trying to get a better look. Flashing lights, pumping music. In the red and blue and black, he's there ; hand wiping a bloodied nose. He's saying something; and a couple of guys surround Miguel, giving rough shoves and shouting something you can't hear. Someone throws a punch and he takes it, barely shifting at the continuous blows. 

It's a sobering sight, and you're worried; looking left and right at the onslaught of bystanders.

"Why isn't he fighting back ?" You say, barely audible. No-one's doing anything but watching; one or two even pulling their phones out to record. The sight makes you sick, and you're shouting his name, trying to get closer. Like a gunshot, sudden and sharp and cutting through the noise, he locks eyes with you. His eyes dark, with that same look he gave you not too long ago. 

Another cruel kick, and he's down on one knee, clutching at his stomach. You notice the broken glass, the blood in his shirt. He's goading them, and still , he refuses to fight back. 250 pounds soaking wet and at least 6"5; he's a fucking killer – and everyone knows it. Why won't he fight back?

There's a pounding at your skull, and something deep and dark and complicated that twists around your insides, threatening to rise up – and then.. and then… 

The lights are turned on, and the music stops. Lyla's at the stairs shouting obscenities; telling everyone to get the fuck out, or I'm calling the cops. 

People disperse out the doors, but only a few rush towards Miguel. You do, of course, and then Jess is by his side to help him up. He must look worse than he feels because despite the bruising and pouring blood; he pinches the bridge of his nose like he always does, as if it's just a headache. He's laughing ; the smug bastard; incisors sharp and dangerous and flashing pearly white. Your heart's still racing; betraying complicated feelings. As the last dregs drip out of Lyla's apartment, you're all left to deal with the aftermath. 

Jess looks shaken, Lyla's sobering up; and you're holding Miguel's hand, elbow deep in the oil spill. 

_

_

_

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[luvfy0dor]

“High Tide Came and Brought You in ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Chuuya Nakahara, Nikolai Gogol

Warnings; minimal cursing, perhaps ooc

Description; BSD men taking their partner on an aquarium date!

A/n; I haven't really gotten inspiration for the ask I was working on, so I hope this suffices for now 3: this post

Chuuya Nakahara ♡

ೃ⁀➷

It was no mystery that Chuuya loved to take you out on exquisite dates- he felt that the two of you deserved to relax and enjoy a day or night out every now and again. He liked to bring you places where you've never been and give you experiences that you don't get every day, even if it's not fancy. If you asked, he would bring you to The Cheesecake Factory (because apparently it's not fancy enough for some people.) He just cares that you get a good experience and you both leave happy.

Today he wanted to bring you to an aquarium. You dressed yourself appropriately and joined him in the car, where he smiled and leaned over the center console to give you a kiss. You happily returned it with your hand on his cheek before pulling away and returning to your seated position. "Do you think they'll let us pet the stingrays?" You asked, pulling down the sun visor and opening the mirror to briefly look at yourself. "Probably." He replied, backing out of the parking space and driving off into the road. "It'd be real cool if they did." You nodded in agreement.

"Aren't they slimy?" You asked while watching other cars out the window. "I guess we'll find out." You laughed softly and filled your mind with thoughts of the fish to hype yourself up. Aside from the stingray, you wanted to walk through the tunnel that was built through one of the tanks. Watching the sharks and other aquatic animals swimming in front of you was cool, but overhead? That was even cooler. The aquarium wasn't far, so it didn't surprise you when your thoughts were cut short by the car turning into the large parking lot. Chuuya searched through the columns of cars while the both of you searched for a space. You found one and pointed it out to him before the both of you got out of the car and started towards the aquarium. He held your hand while while you walked through the parking lot and while standing in line.

"Look at this, darlin', they got a whole section just for jellyfish." He says, pointing to a paragraph in the pamphlet as the last person in front of them finished paying. He handed it to you and stepped forward, pulling out his wallet to get tickets for the both of you. While he did that, you took interest in the photos on the paper, your eyes scanning over the pretty tanks decorated with corals and rocks. Your attention was redirected to him when he tapped your shoulder. "Come on." He nodded his head towards the entrance and grabbed your hand. You smiled and walked with him, immediately pleased by the soft lighting filled with blues and other cool tones. Straight ahead of the two of you is a large tank filled with tropical fish and your eyes widened in astonishment. "This is amazing, Chuuya!" You enthusiastically said, hyped up about all the wonderful creatures sitting before your eyes. He smiled with his hand on your lower back as you walked closer, getting a better look at it.

"It's real cool. What should we go to first? The jellyfish? You looked pretty excited about that." He lightly teases while standing at your side. "Yeah, that's a good idea." You find a nearby directory, find the jellyfish section, and start your trip there, Chuuya in tow. "Jellyfish are so pretty. Did you know that pissing on a jellyfish sting doesn't help." You say and he nods. "I did know that." You roll your eyes. "Atleast pretend you didn't. Oh, look! There it is!" You say, spotting the glow of the jellyfish tanks in the otherwise dark area. You're like a moth to a flame as your pace quickens, stopping right infront of the dwarf lions mane jellyfish. "They're so pretty." You state, holding Chuuyas hand tightly. He smiles and takes the chance to plant a kiss on your cheek. "You're quite a beauty yourself, y'know?" You nod, your eyes wandering to the other jellyfish tanks. "I do, you'd never let me forget." You say with a grin. He smiles with you and lets you lead him around the large aquarium. "Good." His arm falls around your waist and holds you close while you tell him about the animals. The smile on your face made him feel butterflies as you turned to face him.

"Oh my gosh, they got seahorses over here too! Look how cute he is." You say, peering through the small circle of glass. He bent down ever so slightly to look with you and smiled. "You really think that's cute?" He scrunches his nose. "A little." You step back and turn to face him, watching his expression return to his regular one. "Whatever you say, doll. Wanna go see some other animals?" You hum in approval of the idea. "Yeah." And with that, the two of you were off to tour the rest of the aquarium with excitement and fascination in the variety of animals. Chuuya bought you some food afterwards, eating with you while standing in the parking lot and laughing together. You had made another memory with Chuuya, and every new one made your heart swell. You just loved him so much, and he loved you too, which made the aquarium trip all the more special. Even if you had never cared about sea life before, the fact that Chuuya would explore the topic with you was what mattered most.

Nikolai Gogol ♡

ೃ⁀➷

Going on an aquarium date with Nikolai was your idea, highly inspired by a bunch of couple tiktoks that were filmed with the large tanks and beautiful animals in the background. When you pitched the idea to him, he seemed pretty hyped. He had a bit of an odd infatuation with fish- whenever he was out on a boat he would look for the dead ones floating on the top of the water and pointed them out excitedly when he spotted them. He still did that too this day, but he seemed just as satisfied to see the living ones swim around in gorgeously decorated tanks.

So, hand in hand, the two of you walked to the nearby aquarium. It kind of surprised you that you'd never thought to have this date with him before because of the close proximity, but it no longer mattered. His hair was tied back in its usual braid and his right eye was uncovered, exposing the pretty color to you and anyone who caught a glance. He looked as handsome as ever while he yapped to you about the various pet fish he had during childhood. You happily listened, never dismissing him disinterestedly. He talked just as much with his free hand as his mouth most of the way there, showing his expressive personality. The chatter between the two of you died down when you stepped up to the window to pay the entry fee, and he stood beside you while staring at various pieces of decor.

"Do they have food here?" He asked as the lady behind the counter swiped your credit card. "Probably, I don't see why they wouldn't." He hummed in agreement. "Yeah." He was silent when the lady returned your card to you. He didn't let go of your hand until you entered the aquarium and he instead opted to put his arm around your shoulders. "Do you think the restaurant serves fish? I'm kinda craving flounder..." He whispered in your ear just as you stared at the first large fish tank. You rolled your eyes and pushed him off of you. "I don't wanna talk about eating them right now, especially not in front of them!" You said, pointing at the fish through the glass. A small smile peeked through your expression of exaggerated disgust and he gave a knowing grin back, just chuckling and looking down at his feet. "You don't think they look tasty in the slightest?" He says, walking closer to you and putting his hand on the small of your back. "Not one bit." You affirm, standing your ground.

"Tsk tsk tsk...whatever you say, babe." He teases. "What other animals do they got here?" He asks you, to which you shrug. "I dunno, I didn't take a pamphlet. We'll have to figure it out, I guess." You looked around for a directory only to be met with decor and wall art of other purposes. You hum while looking around, pulling him along. You both stop to see every new animal that enters your vision, both pairs of eyes lighting up at the sight of the fauna. "Aren't they all so pretty, Kolya?" You murmur. He agrees and averts his attention to a man standing in the center of the aquarium. He double takes before patting your shoulder and pointing. "Oh my god, he's got a crocodile!" He whispered to you, turning you in said direction. Your jaw dropped and you immediately walked closer. "Oh my gosh, can I pet it?" You ask the trained professional. He laughs and nods, holding the baby croc out for you to touch.

You run your fingers across it's scaly skin and feel your heart beat faster in your chest. You knew it wasn't dangerous, but it felt thrilling. Nikolai watched you and followed suit, running his hand along the animal, too. "We should get one some day." He says glancing at you. "Well, they're not really recommended as household pets, as a matter of fact I'm not sure it's legal..." he hesitates and Nikolai shrugs. "Damn, that's a shame, huh, dove?" He asks, turned to you with his iconic, sly, smile. You nodded along once again. "Yeah, surely."

He shrugs again and grabs your hand. "It's alright, we'll have other animals some day." He beams. "Let's go pet some stingrays now, yeah?" And with that, the two of you were headed to the petting tank. The rest of the day was well spent by seeing and petting sea creatures with your boyfriend, enjoying the usual shenanigans that was destined to occur when the two of you were together. You decided to call it a day after getting some food inside the aquarium, which did have seafood, much to Nikolais pleasure. You walked down the stairs of the entry way, your arm around Nikolais waist. You couldn't help but feel exhausted after the day you had, but it's okay, your boyfriend would help you relax!

"Oh, sweet cheeks, I got you a souvenir while we were in there." He says, his smile from ear to ear. You hadn't seen him buy anything at all, or even look in the direction of the gift shop, so you immediately knew that the gift wasn't going to be ethically sourced. He reached into his portal and pulled out the crocodile he said he wanted as a pet earlier. You immediately freaked out and pointed to the portal. "Oh my god, Kolya, put that back right now! You're gonna get arrested, oh my god!" You stressed, your eyebrows knitted together. He just chuckled and put the animal back. "I'm just kidding, don't worry. The actual souvenir is these." He closed the portal and pulled some small, glass turtles out of his pockets. "They reminded me of you, and I know you like your little trinkets." He said, handing one of them to you. "And they're matching, I thought you'd like them." He says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. Your heart thumped in your chest and you nodded vigorously. "Aw, thank you, Kolya. I love them so much." The smile on your face was enormous. Anything from Nikolai was always spontaneous yet thoughtful. You pulled his face down quickly to give him a peck on the lips, eliciting a quiet hum and grin from your lover. His hand rested on your cheek, even as you pulled away. "I love YOU so much." He says with a slightly scrunched nose. You flash your teeth when you smile, running a hand through his bangs. "I love you too, Nikolai."

A/n; me when I post 💔🙏 BUT ANYWAYS HI midterm season is OVER so that means new quarter and all my late assignments don't matter so I don't gotta stress over them. ANDANDAND swim season is over, I have one more practice so I'll have SOOOO much more free time. It's kinda bittersweet, though. I really like swimming but it's alright I guesssss 3:

[riddlesrose]

on the chest of another

w/ astarion

cw; none but maybe mild ooc astarion

hi yeah i haven't posted in 13 months my bad enjoy

He doesn't know the last time he felt truly comfortable with another living person, he’d been turned into a blood-thirsty vampire hundreds of years ago, he slowly learnt that the people he attempts to love will wither away while he stays put, same age, same face, though he can’t see it. Astarion watches the world change and reform around him while he retains memories of those he loved before they were either taken by the cold hands of death itself or he was forced to sacrifice them to his evil lord, Cazador. 

When he’d been taken, kidnapped, vampnapped off the streets of Baldur’s Gate, he’d never been so thankful, he was free, albeit trapped in a flying ship with aliens and other kidnapees, he was free from Cazador and the horrible treatment he’d endured for years upon years. He felt unrestricted until they threw him into a pod, then forcefully inserted an alien-type creature into his eye. He writhed in pain, attempting to free his arms, hands or legs to fight back, but it proved fruitless, he was stuck, and now, he had no idea what was going to happen to him. 

Astarion doesn’t know how long he’d been out, unconscious but before he could collect his thoughts, he realized that the flying ship he was, unfortunately, still on, was on fire, being actively attacked. 

After the ship had been knocked around a few times, set more on fire, he noticed a person, they were free, walking around like nothing was happening, or maybe looking for an exit, but they were definitely too far for anything to be heard had he banged on the front of his pod. That’s it, this is his end, he’ll probably just die when this ship inevitably crashes. Oh well, it’s a better outcome than being Cazador’s slave for the rest of his miserable life. 

Astarion stirred, feeling the sun warm his body, wait, the sun? He shot up, he should be turning to ash, he lifted his hands to check he really wasn’t chipping away in the sunlight. This has to be a cruel joke, Cazador or someone of his likes toying with him, teasing him with what he misses and has missed for the past 200 years. That and maybe his own reflection. But oh dear, how he’s missed the sun. The feeling, how it makes him feel, he feels happy, momentarily, until he remembers what just happened. First, getting kidnapped, then having some kind of tadpole inserted into his brain, now, he’s in the sun. What the hell. 

Then he also remembers the lone traveller that wandered free upon the ship, they’re probably around here somewhere, he better lure them out, question them. 

Many weeks passed by, Astarion ended up joining forces with the traveller he almost attacked, whom he learned goes by Tav, a Githyanki, a wizard, a cleric, a Tiefling, a druid and a warlock. He’d fought in many battles, some great, some his companions dragged him to, earned himself a few new friends, shared many stories with the camp, and shared his secret. The camp was very accepting of his condition, as long as he didn’t feed on an unwilling target. Tav was a dear on the night he almost starved, he’d gotten so hungry he thought he’d be able to sneak a quick bite without Tav noticing, guess guards were still too high and they noticed as soon as he got too close at night. After exposing himself on accident, Tav had offered a small amount of their blood to aid him. Now, it’s almost nightly he’ll go find Tav in their tent or bedroll and sate his hunger. Rats and boars just don’t tide him over anymore now that he has his own food source, willing food source. 

“Astarion?” Tav stirred, cracking their eyes, while searching for his. 

“Yes, my dear?” He hovered over them, looking as if he was going to feed but almost backing away this time. 

“I can feel you hesitating, why?” Tav had always been able to feel when he made his way into their tent for his needs, sometimes they woke but never pushed him away or forced him to take less than he needed. 

“Why, I am not! I am simply… going to wait for you to go back to sleep.” He looked proud with his excuse. 

“Lies. There’s another reason.” 

“There is not.”

“Yes there is.”

“No-”

“I’m not going to argue this, Astarion, is there something wrong?” 

He sighed, moved himself to sit by Tav’s legs and looked away, not bashfully, he was embarrassed. Tav sat up as well, but scooted closer to Astarion so he didn’t have to speak above a whisper if he did not see it fit.

“I feel greedy.” His demeanor of wit and confidence melted away as the bugs and frogs sang their night songs in the nearby pond. The night was cold, usually lonely, but he felt a sort of comfort with Tav that he hadn’t felt in years, he vowed to himself after he was turned that all mortals were never to be loved by him. They were going to die and he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair, he wanted to grow old with someone he loved deeply, he wanted more than to be someone’s pawn, a spawn of evil intent, born to do no good. 

Tav did not say anything, only tilting their head to the side with empathy shining in their eyes. 

“Now, I’m not asking for pity, dear, don’t give me that look.” 

“I know, I was simply allowing you to continue without interrupting, but look where we are.” 

“Cheeky. Fine,” He took a breath, thinking for a moment, “I haven’t been free of Cazador in two hundred years, I am unsure how to feel, how to live, frankly. I have been his slave, I’ve done his dirty work for as long as I can remember, I had no way out, I was underfed, mistreated, beaten, used, abused, everything you can think of darling, I experienced it under Cazador’s orders.” Sometime during his small rant you had moved closer, draping a blanket around his shoulders, and rested a hand on his shoulder, showing support without interrupting him. Astarion looked over to you with pain and sadness in his glossy red eyes. 

“Why don’t you stay for a while, you can leave before the sun comes up, no one has to know the witty and confident Astarion we all know stayed the night in another’s tent.” Tav proposed. They moved back onto the bedding they had tucked into the most private part of their tent, allowing him to follow if he chose to. He was not pressured, not forced, but given complete free will of his actions, something he still could not fully capture the grasp of because of his past. He thought on the choices he was proposed, 

“Only for a few minutes.” He decided since he doesn’t really sleep anyways, he’s an elf. He crept a few inches closer, unsure of where to go, Tav lied down and patted their chest, colour rose to Astarion’s pale cheeks, he was thankful it was dark. He took a few awkward seconds of staring at Tav before snapping out of his trance and shuffling back a few inches so his head could rest on their chest, he felt out of place, inconvenient, a burden to Tav’s sleeping. He was about to get up and thank Tav for their time before they brushed their hand through his messy curls and he stopped. His heart began beating a tad bit faster, he promised, no swore, that no mortal would make him feel this comfortable, loved, cared for, he knew what was inevitable… 

After many minutes, Tav could feel his breathing slow as they continued to rake their hand through his hair, untangling pieces every so often, they watched his eyelashes flutter before his breathing fell in tempo with their own. Tav guessed it had been a while since he’d felt comfortable, given his history and all. It was true, so for the first time in many, many years, Astarion fell asleep to the sound of a heart beating in the chest of another. 

[korzionarchive]

@dastardlydaemon , @zobriezalarys

I love how swishy her dress is 🥹🫶🏻

anyways, the chaos cousins modern au

[d1s1ntegrated]

basilica

tomura shigaraki

cw: religious trauma, religious motifs/themes/imagery, catholicism, defiling of the church, angst, hurt, slightly ooc

a/n: just a short angry religious trauma post drabble bc i'm feeling a type of way rn and it kinda sucks lol. sorry for projecting this onto u tomura i love u

try reading with the song! it adds a layer to the writing i feel honestly is kind of important

Tomura wanted to cry. Wanted to scream in anguish, beg and plead for a miracle or a sign from a God, any God. But the pews of the rotted church served little to sanctify him as he crumbled each one with an angry fist. Shaking fingertips dug into the deep grooves in the mahogany and crumbled them into forgotten prayers. Scattered pages of proverbs and psalms littered the marbled tiles, and the sun rays twinkled in through the ornate stained glass, reminding him just how small he was against the hands of God. There was no God here- only Him, and He alone could stand the tides of change with a battering ram for a heartbeat. It hurt, it hurt so badly, to be forgotten and known all at the same time. Who was he? Tenko Shimura, the sweetened cherub boy, with scraped kneecaps and bruised elbows? No, never. It was a dream, a softened hymn that only time knew the words to. Now he stood, an adult in the eyes of society- though his body never felt quite big enough to be- Tomura Shigaraki. A man, a disciple of the Feared One, a machine created to destroy. And destroy he would. Starting here.

He didn't believe in God. He didn't follow the practice of any one religion, especially not the Catholic Church. Hell, the fact that there was even a church to find out here was a one in a million shot- they weren't exactly few and far between in the cities, but the Catholic population in Japan was a small decimal compared to Shintoism or Secularism. But for this moment, he felt it was best to be in here. A lot of western media he had consumed over the years painted church and Christianity as some all-consuming Light, like this is where miracle happened. Well, the only miracle here was that Tomura even set foot inside.

Every step pressed another layer of dust into the deep red runner up to the sanctuary. The altar remained pristine as he caught his breath, his throat tight and dry. The sound of his thumping heart swelled in his ears and head, the pressure reminiscent to being underwater. Looking up, the height of the cathedral shrank him down to atoms. It felt like a mockery. Like even God was reminding him he was small.

Small. Tiny. Pitiful.

Each word of arrogance against him made his blood turn darker, thinner, rushing through his veins as he grasped at the elegant pillars, dragging himself to the ground with a gasping cry, so that he fell to his knees at the altar rails, his tired bloody eyes locking with the adorned chancel, and the poignant, giant statue of the Son, hung plainly in front as if to scream "I'm here, too".

He felt more alone at this revelation, that human faithlessness was so overlooked because of sin, that people like him weren't meant to be here not because of their trouble finding faith, but for their lack of it. That he too would be damned because he chose not to find light in God, and instead found his own way of safety through destruction and chaos and everything Sensei had taught him. His own scripture, signed in viscera, torn at the edges. It wasn't his fault no one taught him to believe, but it was damn sure his fault he didn't seek it for himself- and he felt it, now, as Mother Mary's half-lidded gaze held above his wakened frame as if he were a pestilence on this world that God created.

Was he in the wrong for keeping his head low? Should he hang it high, be grateful for the hands that supposedly formed him and molded him? This, Tomura knew, was the entire reason behind his aversion to faith. Because he needed someone to listen, and not a single ear fell for him. Not even Sensei cared enough to listen to his alleged son, his pride and joy as some called it. He felt neither prideful or joyous when face to face with him, instead it was a sinking, sorrowful feeling, that could best be described as grief. Grief for his old life, or for the new one he failed to perfect for himself, his Sensei, his friends- try as he might, he was just so small here, and could do only so much.

Church was a last-ditch effort to feel something. Anything. His time was low, and the unfortunate arms of fate were every turning and chiming, reminding him that his goal was only so far. It was seconds away, he felt as he could reach out and grasp it- but he was too well trained, he knew better than to reach out to the things he really wanted, in fear he would destroy it all in the blink of an eye. Not even Gods hands could hold him now, though, as he pretended to pray for one last chance.

His hands pressed into the cold tile and he felt the ground beneath him rumble, his body quaking and splintering in wretchedness, the power lifting him entirely. The pure white turned a murky grey as they shattered and cracked under him, the giant spires atop the roof even quivered at the desolation. And as he screamed, as his throat burned in anger, poor Mother Mary fell to the ground from her pedestal, an ironic display. The caricature of fallen angel, in the house of God, airing his grievances to no one but marble and blood wine, he stood. Destroying it all.

Not in the name of God, but the name of Tomura Shigaraki. Because there was no God that could ever come close to being this angry.

[korzionarchive]

LIKE FOR A GREENS AU STARTER.

[ijustwantogethigh]

good evening, a request please, from apollo x reader poseidon (the reader is percy's half-sister, she arrived at the camp at the same time as him) the reader danced with the nayades in the river while apollo

He fell in love when he saw her dance (like Poseidon with Host), or when I can write you, there is no pressure or anything, I apologize if it is not understood, I use a translator

HEY ANON! thank you for requesting, I tried, but it was a long time ago since I read a Percy Jackson's book,so it took time bc I re-read the book to be more accurate it's a little OOC, I hope you don't mind,and i put more things to not make it too short so I love u for using the translator thank you!

Poseidon!Daughter reader x Apollo

dam jokes..A lot, Percy's nickname for reader is blobfish, she is 16 and Apollo..Yeah more than 15000 /it's Apollo not Lester my friend/ Apollo nicknames y/n as ASTERI that's star in Greek♥

Sunrise 𝓐pogeum.

It's been two weeks since the Manhattan war ended, and everything was fine, campier doing his chores, some others packing for the next summer ready to go home, he was standing next to Rachel Elizabeth Dare, the new Oracle, now he was complaining her to rest in the spare room in the big house, Rachel was pretty.

but not pretty as y/n, the gorgeous Demigod alive, if she wasn't a Poseidon child, will mistake her as a Aphrodite Daughter, her hair shine with the sun, her brownish-tanned skin, Kissed by the sun, her melodious voice!, he was so down for her, but she still was a demigod, and gods and demigods did not mix together but it is not like Apollo cares right?…right?.

Rachel was resting now, he come back outside, walking through it was the camp, when he saw her, again, the first time both meet, was during the war, she was undoubtedly angry, her hands bloody, and even a big cut in the side of her cheek probably will left a scar, she didn't take care of it, she fought side-to-side with him.

but she didn't even notice, now she was dancing dancing with a group of nayades in the lake, he felt so odd, she moved like swan, she was obviously wet, a beautiful girl,he felt like enchanting her to make her his wife, make her an immortal demigod, he was in love from a demigoddess, the Nayades feeling his predatory gaze against the girl, covers her, and the god leaves, not seeing his girl anymore, he gets bored.

Monday!

But he didn't let it die until this day, he left a poem for her, stick in the back of a mirror, with little seashells on the edge of it, and it was blue.

''In golden rays where shadows play, A sunlit heart beats bold and Bright, He casts his warmth upon the shore, While waves embrace their ancient lore. A daughter of the ocean's grace, With laughter bright, she weaves her space, Her spirit dances in a sea-like swirl, Unknowing of the sun that longs to twirl. He paints the sky with hues of fire, While she swims deep, lost in desire, The tides of dreams pull her away, From the warmth of love that seeks to stay. With every dawn, he rises high, A silent wish, a longing sigh, While she, beneath the azure dome, Knows not the heart that calls her home. In realms of water, air, and light, Two worlds apart, yet spark ignites, For in their depths, a tale unfolds, Of sun and sea, a love untold''

-The mirror is for you, so you can look how pretty you are, and to remind you that with no sun, it's not fun to go to the beach princess. att: 𝓐.

She smirked looking herself in the mirror expecting something, he saw through the distance, well hided, she looked both sides, expecting the stoll brothers to tell her is a weird prank.

but the smirk morphed into a frown, she didn't like those jokes, they were mocking about her appearance? How down!. Until Percy, comes out saying

''why is the door open, close it, I hate those dam fly's!''

''are you just worried about the fly's?''

'' They are mocking about me and you care about dam fly's?''

she says, holding the mirror in her hands, closing the door, keeping the mirror and the beautiful poem.

Does she just miss pretended everything? She was definitely Percy's half sister.

Tuesday?

Through the night, he left a little box with chocolates and cookies with seashell figure, and left a Puka shell necklace with a little sun charm, he was being obvious at this point and he left.

the beginning morning he was talking with helios, helios was kind of angry of seeing the god trying to get a demigoddess,

''hey no, I'm just trying to get her attention, I'll ask her when she is 18''

and the sun god just look bad at him, and he saw her, looking a bit sleepy, face swollen, she tripped with the box, Apollo was dying from anxiety, she picked the blue box up revealing the contend from it.

very pretty and must be delicious cookies and chocolates, WITH SEASHELL FIGURES! She ran inside, waking up Percy, to look at the present his secret admirer sent her

'look! IT'S A DAM DOLPHIN!''

''Blobfish…shut Up.. It's dam 9 o'clock..haha..A dolphin''

-he says sleepy, taking one from the box, eating it sleepy due the hour, he was just not a morning person.

'like..He or she is calling me skinny? Okay that's a big ouch''

The god only pushed his hands into his mouth to not scream from frustration, his princess just didn't understand.

Wednesday…

He was just stressed, this weekend his princess probably is leaving to go back home with her mom this time, he left a bracelet beads kit, and there's was a bracelet made up ''Asteri'' was in the blue, white and yellow beads, she smiled, feeling like a little kid, her mom used to bought her those for Christmas, until she ate one…whatever, And there's was another note.

'aye Asteri, I'm saying the truth, I'll never be mean to some one I love, do not miss pretend everything I do to love you'' att: 𝓐

she felt like faithing,, then it was a guy!, one who was too shy to ask her out, she smiled, and backed up to her cabin to show Percy the new thingy his 'secret boyfriend'' how Percy baptized him, get her.

'so, a Bracelet kit? How old are you, 6?'' ''tf you mean 6? Annie gifted you a sea creature coloring book..'' ''IT'S DIFFERENT, IT'S FOR COLORING!'' ''AND THIS IS FOR FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS! You ain't getting one'' ''Ain't letting you color in ma' book''

Thursday.

He got tired of letting his gifts in the morning, not a morning person either, and this time, she saw her, a little sad. Maybe he influenced her? ''why are you sad y/n?''

ooh OH! Her secret boyfriend didn't appear this morning..So she feels sad, even though she told me she didn't want a boyfrien-'' but she shut him until he finished.

'shut up, if he is a camper he could feel bad and,,uh no, it's not that'' she says, giving her new friendship bracelet to Annabeth.

''Secret boyfriend, what in the world is that?''

she says, whispering thank you, every person that was percy's friend got a friendship bracelet, even nico had one, and Grover, but no Percy.

'like a guy that is not his boyfriend but wants to be, all week has sended her gifts and today no'' he says, coloring in his book while talking, mocking his sisters disgrace.

'maybe yeah, he told me he would never hurt someone he loves, and why disappear in the middle of something!''

''You have the heart of a chicken'' he looked at her, with a serious expression.

And she gasped in horror.

Annabeth, with the Poseidon's kids, walked to the cabin,y/n just wanted Annabeth to see the disaster of cabin Percy had.

until in the stairs of the cabin, a glass box rested covered in some leaves, with …blue Cinnamon rolls?, she screamed like she saw someone eating caviar /it's actually an anecdote/ Annabeth was giggling and fangirling with Y/n.

'HE CAME OMG HE LOVES ME!'' ''YEAH.. Um? HE DOES!'' ''WHY THEY LOOK MUCH MORE EDIBLE WHEN ARE BLUE?!''

Percy screamed to gain the attention. And a new note was attached to the glassbox.

'sorry for making you wait for Asteri, I woke up late, I hope you and your brother like them. Did you think I wouldn't find out if you shared them? Take care Asteri'' att. 𝓐

She screamed, entering again, to share those very delicious Cinnamon rolls with her friends, Apollo, through the dusk of the sun that got from the windows, saw her putting the note, with the other things he had gifted her, it was mere luck she had liked them, it's not like he was giving her random stuff, those are things she liked when she was younger.

Friday

Today she was alone, this time he didn't appear. She gave him time, but he never showed up with a last gift.

She cutted one of the flowers,Percy and Annie give her like a goodbye, putting it in her hair, and, with all her things packed, she was on the lake, looking it, very very sad, it was more like nostalgia.

she was going home, but most of her friends weren't gonna be there, even if Percy told he they can always do Iris call's with Annie, she didn't want to interrupt those calls with his girlfriend.

Leo was staying in the camp,and pipes too. She felt so good, but at the same time sad, the winter was going to last too much, and the summer went like river water. Maybe she was just 16 to think like that, but she was just a girl.

It was dusk, the time when the sun is going down and the sky looks orange, she sigh, when getting up, until a bright like blinded her, in the water was a very, handsome man, golden hair, tanned skin and..Wet clothes, walked towards the water, she wasn't dumb-

'Apollo..?' why are you here?'' Elizabeth was the first to leave before the Manhattan war to his college, she was confused. 'II came for you *my 𝓐steri'' he pronounced, with a big bright smile, giving her a bouquet of sunflowers. She was confused, but more shocked, she grabbed the bouquet, looking at the most pretty sunflowers. ''y-you? You are,,'' she stuttered the words, her throat felt dry, and she got stiff from the panic. ''yes my Asteri, I am the one who has gifted you everything, now I have the brave to show up to you'' ''what I'm supposed to do I-'' ''you do not have to do something, just..Let me be with you, protect you'' ''i know this kind of thing, I can't be with you,, I'm so sorry'' 'don't be, I'm the fool who fell first, but please, let me be at your side..Please, to the time you'd have go, there's no sun, so I'm here to guide you, tomorrow in the morning we leave from here''

He was talking about guiding me to my home? What kind of deal was this? I nodded, and we both just talked in front of the lake, sitting making eachother company.

BONUS

''WOAH you meet him in person?! HE BRIGHTS IN THE DARK?!'' a little golden-brunette haired boy screamed.

''yes, but he is strong too, he used to gift me sunflowers''

''why daddy didn't get mad?''

''well, it's you daddy who gifted me the sunflowers my love''

The kid didn't catch it at first, but he kept eating his blue cinnamon rolls, while both were watching the TV, the sun was coming through its windows, the dusk had already begun.

[queenlyregent]

hey tumblr dot com, I haven't been active on here in a while and I've never posted about this, but I've been writing a rhaenicent fanfic and posting it to ao3, and after months of writer's block and procrastination, I finally managed to finish it (mostly because I procrastinated doing arguably much more important writing by doing so, but hey a win is a win). just wanted to mention it because I'm actually kinda proud! it's nowhere near perfect and it's still quite underedited, but it's the first fic I ever posted online so in case you're interested, here is the link and I'd love for you to check it out <3<3<3<3

(fair warning to all my rhaenicents tho, there is some light lucemond in this and I totally get if that's not your cup of tea and you'd like to steer clear hahaha)

A Kingdom For Her Grace (73077 words) by lareinavisoma

Chapters: 12/12

Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, House of the Dragon (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Alicent Hightower/Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Hightower & Rhaenyra Targaryen, Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen & Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), many platonic and familial relationships, canon romances also appear, but are not the focus - Relationship, basically the status quo of relationships by ep 7

Characters: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Alicent Hightower, Daemon Targaryen, Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Otto Hightower, Larys Strong, Rhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon), Jacaerys Velaryon, Baela Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen, basically the whole cast appears, (those still alive by episode 7 anyway), there will also be dragons!, Syrax | Rhaenyra Targaryen's Dragon, Arrax | Lucerys Velaryon's Dragon, Vhagar (ASoIaF), Viserys I Targaryen

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, gets fluffier as the story goes on, Lesbian Alicent Hightower, Bisexual Rhaenyra Targaryen, No Lesbians Die, Hurt/Comfort, generally pro black, but not anti green!, Everyone deserves better, Repressed Alicent Hightower, Making Up, Politics, Miscarriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, lucerys/aemond is mostly pre-slash, I tagged them to protect those who understandably do not ship them, I'm Bad At Tagging, No beta we die like Harwin Strong, Canonical Character Death, Probably ooc, they're all flawed still but more chill than in canon, Reconciliation, POV Multiple, POV Alternating, Incest, Canon Typical Incest, almost forgot to tag that one jesus what has this fandom done to me, daemon is not evil, but this is probably still not a story for daemon stans, Slow Burn

Summary:

Rhaenyra loses her daughter while still in Kingslanding to petition for her son in the Velaryon succession crisis. Exhausted, she decides to stay and care for her dying father.

Tensions run high between the different factions of the family. For the sake of their children and themselves, Rhaenyra and Alicent relearn to navigate life at court together; all the while allegiances are unclear, trust is broken and built anew.

Set during and after Episode: s01e08 The Lord of the Tides

[unbeleveable-archive]

Okay, I'm compromising with myself and doing a massive cut. The threads below are the ones i am keeping going off my drafts and the ones I can think of I'm waiting on replies for (if you have a meme you wanted to reply to that's fine):

@viciousgold

TLM - Angelica/Marisa HDM AU Eleanor/Marisa FTWS/HDM Crossover - Farah/Marisa

@ofherdowlingohara / @ofhermedicine

Adoption Convo - Farah/ Bloom Car crash - Eleanor/Jackie/Emma

@ahbutimavillain

Cora/Rum Catherine/Rum

@korolnichevoya

i guess it runs in the family - Baghra/Nikolai

@alyafae

Amnesia AU - Farah/Saul

@ordinaryheroines

Nessa/Oriel

@aercnaut

First meeting - Serafina/Lee

@2kyears

Farah/Maurice

Not purging my inbox again. But from now on I'm capping at three threads per person at a time. Not just because of my anxiety, but also because I feel like I'm not giving everyone equal attention. If i've dropped the only thing we have going, it's not because I don't want to write with you. So please feel free to reach out and plot with me in the future or send in memes.

My draft count making me so anxious I'm this close to purging everything and starting over. :||| Except I won't because I would feel like shit after I've calmed down.

[averagedualies]

hey!

Finally getting around to updating this

But, yea. My name is Dualie, I'm an Inkling just trying to not get killed. I’m 19 years old and my pronouns are he/him. I got partially sanitized a while back and now I share a body with the biggest nerd ever.

. . . I will choose to ignore that.

Hello. I am Sage. I am an artificial intelligence who is at the present moment, sharing a body and mind with Dualie. I have been informed that I “have a Tetris addiction” although I disagree. Addiction would imply that there is a problem.

Mhm, sure buddy.

Anyways! If you see a weird looking guy wearing a torn lab-coat and broken glasses wandering around Unova, please let us know.

Also, here are our Pokemon!

—

Frye - Fletchling, my first pokemon. Best girl

Rustle - Shiny Rowlet, was sent to me by someone? Silly dude

Porygon - Found him in a cave. They live in my phone! [Hii!! :>]

Icarus - Type:null that fell out of the sky. Grumpy but friendly fellow.

Mimikyu - a good friend. He understands me

—

I should probably also introduce my roommates, since I talk about them enough that they might as well be on the blog.

—

Byte: My partner!! Also the captain of our inksports team. Also the hottest drummer ever. He/him Inktoling

Ebb: Really cool guy. Definitely the smartest of the group. Mechanic. They/them octoling

Tide: Silliest guy ever. Acts like my brother. Really talented artist. He/they inkling.

—

Thanks to their help, I'm back in splatsville! But they also have their own blog @inkteamatlas!

Anyways, anyone’s welcome to interact. Only rule is don’t be gross.

//Current Arc: Recovery (not really an arc. Moreso just me fumbling around until I can figure out what to do)

//OOC below cut. Pelliper mail, musharna mail/malice and Magic anons are on

Updated the ic intro. Also I do blog promos! Just shoot me an ask and I’ll gladly give you a shout :D

But yeah, this is my splatoon faller. Don’t ask what’s going on with the plot because I don’t honestly know either.

Trigger warnings are gonna be tagged in the format “tw (triggering thing here)”. This blog will include some violence, injury, and occasional ic transphobia (towards him, Dualie is not transphobic y’all)

High stakes stuff will happen. If you wanna plan out anything plot related, feel free to dm me! Any art on this blog will be mine unless stated otherwise.

I’m currently working on a plot summary which will be linked here once I’m done.

Also, Mod is a minor. Just keep that in mind when interacting. Don't be weird

Splatoon faller sever can be found here

[mickmundy]

i saw the post about bushmed and mermaids and blacked out (2 fav things), if there’s any lore/hcs you have, i’d be so so super intrigued to hear if you would be so inclined to share

anyway good luck on the writing!!

HEUUHEUEUHEEE OMG YEAH!! if you haven't seen my previous post about it, you can check it out here!! i have lots of ways i could do this au but i'll probably lean into doing mermedic with human sniper, who at some point can temporarily transform into a merperson to visit medic under the sea (and maaaybe vice versa. not sure yet)... i think sniper would be SO jealous of merfolk once he knew they existed... he'd love to see the ocean as a part of it, not just a visitor!! ;-; and medic would love showing sniper his cavern home and having crazy human/merfolk sex with him and crazy mersex with him.,., heheheheh.,.,

i love the idea of sniper being a fisherman and devoting his life to finding this One Exotic Rare Fish (medic of course) that people have claimed to have seen but haven't ever Caught and he comes Close (sees medic) but doesn't catch him.. almost swears he hallucinated it but knowwsss he didn't.. and i love the idea of both medic just being Some Merguy but also of him like.... being The Sea.,., and it's self indulgent and lame or whatever but i need to write a scene of sniper caught in a storm or something (a bit ooc scenario since i think sniper would be able to study storm patterns and could easily fare fine in a storm... but i do love the idea of medic perhaps being able to semi-conjure them? heh) and somehow getting knocked out or something and waking up and hearing humming/singing and sniper looking over the edge of his boat and medic being like @v@ hello... and sniper being like @A@ hello...... and they kiss..... and sniper passes out again... and wehn he wakes up he KNOWS what he saw and his heart is thrumming in his chest and he's like holy shit. holy shit. holy shit....................................................... self indulgent! sue me!

and sniper's chasing medic all around becuase he KNOWS medic's out there somewhere and medic's loving the attention the obsession etc and then he sees that sniper is All Alone.,., has always been alone.., and medic gets curious... gets as close to sniper's home as he can (we'll just say during high tide it's a liiiiiittle more accessible but not by much) and peers into his home and sees sniper all alone and medic's like "i'm his Whole Life.,., oh mein gott... this is so.,., romantic.,., hoo...!" because of course medic is as obsessed with him as sniper is with him and the next time sniper goes out onto his boat medic peers at him from the other edge of his boat (sniper doesn't notice) and sniper sighs and puts his hands on his hips and starts taking his clothes off and medic's like owo hoo! and watches as sniper jumps into the water to swim around (to clear his head; sniper loves the ocean and nature Of Course so it's not Always about hunting all the time!) and medic watches him and watches him catch and release fish and study coral etc and medic's like ;-;..

he wants to grab sniper right there but he doesn't want him to drown (it's not his fault humans drown so easily -_-!) and so he lets him go back up onto the boat and sniper's laying out and letting the sun warm him and medic lets his tentacles slither up the side of the boat and play with sniper's hand and sniper's like HZZ! WHAT!! <- was kind of dozing off and leaps to the side of the boat and looks over the edge and frowns and is like "hmn, must've just been me..." and medic giggles and sniper perks up again and is like ??? and medic's smiling because he can hear sniper pacing around in the small boat and he bites his lip and tips the boat and sniper's like "HOLY D-" and falls into the water and there's Some waves but not enough to like. do THAT and sniper's trying to flip the boat and he's like GHNGB-! because the boat flips back over and medic's sitting in it and sniper's head lands in medic's mer-lap and medic's like owo and sniper's like oAo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and medic giggles and is like "you won't pass out this time, will you, sailor bold? ^v^" and sniper's face flushes and he's like "PASS OUT- (huffs) I- IT WAS- YOU................." and medic bites his own lip and is like "we've been watching each other a long time, haven't we? <3" and sniper's breathing hard and medic places a palm over sniper's chest and is like "you are very alive! that's good. don't faint again, ja?" and medic's tentacles are playfully curling against sniper's tummy and chest and neck and sniper's like "wh-... what are you?? i knew you were real! i just-!" and medic smiles and says so simply "i'm who you've been looking for." and places his tentacles in sniper's hands and sniper runs his thumbs over them and medic shivers and giggles and sniper's just like. speechless becuase. holy shit. he's right.............................. AAAHHH!!! AGOAUGAOUAOGUAOAGOAU LOOK AT ME RAMBLE!!!!!! AOGUAGOAUGOAUGAOUGAAAA HEHEUHEEEE