#rather happy than dignified

[ddejavvu]

Also… your post about ani loving back scratches omg.. you think he’s into like reader playing with his hair too?? His curls, and even when he had short hair like wow I just know that man has the softest hair ever

happy may the 4th! send me star wars requests/headcanons and we'll have a party <3

i pictured this as tcw!anakin's hair because it was like the cutest little baby mullet/shag where it was growing and curling against the nape of his neck and i wanted to scrunch it with my fingers so bad <333

--

"Keep going."

"Hold on, hold on," You mutter, "My friend's texting me."

Anakin releases a displeased grunt into the fabric of your shirt, and you feel it where it lands warm in your lap.

"Easy," You tap away at the screen of your datapad, pecking letter by letter at what is shaping up to be a lengthy paragraph, "I thought they taught patience at the temple, Jedi Knight. I'll go back to playing with your hair as soon as I'm done."

Anakin grunts again, louder this time.

You don't dignify his dramatics with a response, and you continue typing, the lingering warmth of Anakin's hair fading from your fingertips. He lets you get half of a sentence more in before you feel an invisible tug at your hand, and it relocates itself against Anakin's scalp instead of where you'd placed it on your pad.

"Anakin!" You scoff, "Did you just force my hand back into your hair?"

He lets out a muffled chuckle into your sleep shirt, "Force."

"You are absolutely insufferable," You grumble, but you indulge him with the scrape of your nails against his scalp. It sends a shiver down his spine, and he burrows his face further into your stomach.

"You sound like Obi-Wan," He muses, "I've heard insufferable, incorrigible, reckless, untamable, unmanageable-"

"Unshushable," You add, still making a valiant effort at typing one-handed rather than returning your second hand to its rightful place among Anakin's barely-curled scruff, "Do you ever stop talking?"

"You love the sound of my voice," He accuses, peering up at you with squinted, tired eyes, "That's why you make me read to you at night."

"No, I make you read to me at night because the last thing you read was a users' manual for a landspeeder, and you barely even skimmed that," You scratch against the crown of his head and he groans, "I worry about your literary habits."

"I worry about your hair-playing habits," He reaches out to knock your datapad out of your hand which he drags back into his hair, "Come on, baby, you owe me three books-worth of this."

[beta-therapy]

How to Deal with Sadness/Frustration from Rejection

We’ve all been there. We’ve all had a crush on a beautiful woman and wanted to give her the world, only to find out she has no sexual interest in us. Maybe she puts you in the friendzone; or maybe she makes it clear she wants nothing to do with you at all. It’s normal to feel frustrated in these situations, knowing that she probably has a vibrant sex life with other men, yet doesn’t have any sexual interest toward you.

When this happens over and over again, it can make us question our own self-worth: how come so many women have decided that sex is an activity which is off-limits to me? Do my sexual needs not matter? How come a woman can be salivating with excitement as she begs certain men to engage her in the most personal of ways—whereas with me, so much as asking if she’s single gets me permanently labelled as a creep?

As society becomes more and more accepting of personal freedoms, (especially regarding women) like allowing people to dress how they want, freely express themselves, do what they want in their own bedroom, etc., there indeed looms an increasing mental health crisis among those men who don’t get included in all the sexual fun. They can feel inferior and isolated. In this blog, I’ll discuss how to handle these emotions.

Although it might bring you feelings of shame, insecurity, and jealousy to find out that women consider you unsuitable for sex, it is important to understand that these feelings are rooted in misogyny. It is an outdated, oppressive idea that the goal of a man’s life is to acquire dominance, status, power, and wealth; and use this prestige to seduce beautiful women. This idea is so evil because it views women as beauty objects rather than equal human beings. Women are not trophies.

Women are full human beings with no less intelligence, leadership abilities, creativity, and dignity than the men who forced them to be quiet and submissive for all human history. A lot of men still refuse to acknowledge this today. They want to keep seeing women as less intelligent, less capable, submissive homemakers whose value comes from their sexual beauty.

That sexy woman you know probably does have a passionate sex life, but you should strive to admire her as a person: smart, strong, kind, witty, dignified. She can still have all these great qualities to her even if she has zero sexual interest in you. Considering her a “sexy woman” is—in and of itself—toxic masculinity at work. Why is “sexy” the first trait that comes to your mind when it’s clear that her sex life is off-limits to you? Maybe she is sexually submissive in her bedroom, but why should that concern you? She’s allowed to explore the “feminine” part of her existence in her private life without it subtracting from her value as an interesting, fascinating person in her public life.

You can still be a happy, nice, and fulfilled person even if all the women around you would prefer not to have sex with you. Just because the female community around you doesn’t want you as a sexual/romantic person, doesn’t mean you have been rejected as a person entirely. Sexuality is just one component of the human experience, and it’s very common throughout history for people to be deprived of it.

We have evolved for survival and reproduction, not necessarily to have good morals and be happy. For example, racism is part of our DNA. In prehistoric times, racism helped us stay away from warring tribes, so it was positively selected-for with respect to evolution. But in modern times, we can recognize that racism is a huge problem if we want an inclusive, happy society, and so we must actively denounce this artifact of our DNA.

Our sexuality is much the same way. Throughout history, the evil, abusive, tyrant was always better able to protect his children due to his status and wealth, in comparison to the poor, harmless, gentle, and caring man. That doesn’t mean the evil tyrant was a better person, but it does unfortunately mean that women would evolve a sexual attraction toward higher status, dominant men even if it meant overlooking their moral evil.

As a result, the things women are sexually attracted to are not necessarily the things that are good. You can take solace in this fact. Being sexually undesired by women does not mean there’s something wrong with you, it just means they see you as more harmless and submissive rather than powerful and dangerous.

[ventique18]

I like to think that when Malletsum and Siltsum landed in the woods, Malletsum was hard at work protecting Siltsum from critters while he's asleep. Although the game says it's because Malletsum looks "dignified", he did wear an angry expression when Malleus and Silver first encountered them, as if he's in a battle ready position anytime. 🥹

There were many instances when Malleus himself was protective of Silver and Sebek even when it should be the other way around, so I don't doubt this. It's interesting how Malleus doesn't say it out loud, but he's the one actually doing the protecting most of the time and he's certainly happy to do so.

He could have chosen seasoned generals as his retainers. But he didn't; he instead chose a bunch of rookie kids. It's pretty clear that he only chose them for the company rather than for their services, and Silver seems to be aware of this and that's why he's doing his absolute best to grow stronger as thanks for the care Malleus gives him since the day he was born.

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Mean

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 6.4k TYPE: Fake dating, This is not fluff or angst but a secret third thing (with a cheerful ending) WARNING(S): Depersonalization/identity issues

The first time you meet Michael Kaiser, you get a bad impression.

Yeah, sure, he doesn’t have the most stellar reputation, anyway. You’ve met all sorts of unpleasant people in your life and he manages to disappoint even when the bar is so low, the only way to go lower is through digging.

You don’t exchange a word with him, but rather you have the misfortune of having to listen to him talk throughout the entire meeting. He starts countless arguments, some valid to an extent. You can tell he’s just doing this because he’s addicted to the sound of his voice and speaking to people like they’re unimportant specks of dust all while commanding their attention. There’s no point to his fussing either because he ends up signing the same contract you do.

Waste of your goddamn time — he might as well have not signed it and saved you the trouble, since the ordeal ends up lasting three hours because of him.

Maybe you should’ve not signed it yourself, but your PR manager was salivating at the idea of fake dating as a publicity stunt, especially with Kaiser who’ll be posing with you for a photoshoot in a few months, so you said ‘whatever’ and here you are. In this predicament with an insufferable man you imagine you won’t get along with, which already predisposes you to never giving him a chance.

___

The first time you speak to Michael Kaiser, you unsettle him.

It’s unlike him to feel disturbed, let alone at the slightest thing. He’s met all sorts of sickos, so he considers himself unflinching in the face of anyone who has anything off about them.

But he’s fifteen minutes late to the ‘date’ you’re supposed to use as a tool to subtly launch your fake relationship and he’s expecting a scolding. Kaiser spots you and heads in your direction, taking the seat in front with a shitty smirk and an ingenuine, half-assed apology on his lips.

What he gets in response is a blank look — almost… unimpressed, which naturally someone like Kaiser takes as a challenge and already sets the tone for the rest of the conversation — and it’s as if you’re staring into his soul. Then in an instant your expression flips to convincing joy, your warm smile contrasting his snide one, and you say, “Let’s act like we’re really stoked.”

A chill runs down his spine. On a logical level Kaiser knows you’re faking it, but it looks real, and that’s what he finds freaky. Also, the speed.

“Let’s not,” he says. “You’re weird,” he adds after you don’t respond.

You don’t react to this information either and settle for maintaining your smile.

The barista decides to spare him from having to look at you while you don’t say anything. He’s pretty sure you’re doing this deliberately, to torture him. When you attempt to order something, he talks over you and asks, “Can you give us one of those shitty milkshakes with two straws in them?”

She stares at him in bewilderment. “We don’t sell those,” she says eventually.

“Can you make one?”

“No…”

“You’re scum,” you tell him, dropping the happy facade. Again, the quickness strikes Kaiser as disturbing. Then you give her a valid order, and he asks for water since they offer that everywhere and he can’t be bothered to read the menu. After the barista leaves, you say, “I could have lactose intolerance.”

“You could. I could be trying to kill you.”

“I don’t know if a milkshake would be enough to kill me.”

“Maybe I was trying to give you a stomach ache,” he concurs.

You don’t dignify that with a reply either.

Kaiser tries to speak with you again, “I really fucking hate milk.”

“Then why’d you do that?”

“To embarrass you, of course,” he says, like he’s revealed to you the natural order of things.

“Hm.” You consider this new information. “I’ll definitely think of a way to get back at you.”

The lukewarm threat seems to amuse him more than anything.

Then you proceed to have a hostile few hours together in public as instructed. You end up throwing napkins at his face.

Kaiser isn’t good at pretending to be in love. The only such image he seems capable of projecting is one of a middle schooler who’s failing to find a balance between playful and mean. Though it also doesn’t matter to you because you mostly teeter on the edge of mean, slightly left of apathetic. Nothing really matters to you.

___

For your second court-ordered date with Michael Kaiser, your manager tells you to get caught holding hands with him at a park after the cafe meeting doesn’t spark much controversy. The notion itself has you scrunching your face, but you don’t complain about it or voice your opinion.

Again, he’s late picking you up by a not negligent amount of time, leaving you to stand in front of your building, motionless and impatient.

Instead of announcing his presence in a more acceptable manner, Kaiser blares the car horn until you realize it’s him. After you crawl inside the passenger seat, you turn to look at him and see that he looks very pleased with himself. It’s obnoxious.

“I hope we die in a car crash,” you greet.

“We won’t.” You don’t know why, but his brain interprets this as an opportunity to brag. “I’m an excellent driver.”

He’s not. Somehow you make it to the park without getting into a catastrophe — which, as established, you wouldn’t have minded.

You exit at the same time and Kaiser frowns at you by the time he circles his way around to you. You don’t care enough about what’s bothering him to raise a questioning eyebrow let alone ask, but he tells you, “I was going to open the door for you and then offer to help you up. You ruined everything!”

You roll your eyes. “How gallant.”

“Get back in,” Kaiser says, pointing (as if the gesture will be enough to convince you to play along). “Let’s redo it.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I have a vision for these kinds of things, that’s all.”

“Your vision is trashy and uninspired,” you reject promptly.

Kaiser seems to be the first person in the world who finds your attitude funny rather than objectionable because he grins at your response. But he’s more so looking at you like you’re a bug he finds fascinating in comparison to the rest, without any real respect or acknowledgement. 

“I admit maybe it was a bit cliche,” he says. “Would’ve made me look good, though, if someone caught it on camera.”

You smile that ghoulish smile again and grab his hand like you were told. His fingers are cold and yours even more so, making the grasp clammy and uncomfortable while you begin your stroll. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to talk about with him. Soon enough, you scowl, both the silence and the sensation of getting touched proving too much for you to hide your displeasure, even though Kaiser seems content with letting the silence fester.

“Oh? Why’d you stop? I’ve started enjoying your creepy masquerading.”

“I’m disgusted,” you say.

“Disgusted,” he repeats. “By what? Me?”

“It’s making me sick. Who knows where your hand’s been or what you’ve done.”

Albeit visibly offended for the first time if the lack of an annoying smirk is anything to draw judgments from, Kaiser drops it first. Your arm hangs by your side again, limp.

“Let go, then. Or do I need to do everything myself?” That’s quite a dramatic sentiment coming from a man who has done nothing all day besides a short drive and taking a few steps.

“But my manager said-”

“Who cares? I think my manager’s lucky I agreed to this bullshit in the first place,” Kaiser says. “By the way, my hands haven’t been in any sewers or anything to warrant this reaction, thank you very much.” He must be the type of person who only ever says thank you as if being grateful is some big joke.

“I’m not being literal. I know who you are and what people say about you. My disgust is conceptual.”

“Flattering.” Kaiser’s pleased again with the mention of this tidbit, like the mental image he’s getting of you searching him up gives him immeasurable amounts of satisfaction. One thing you’ve come to notice about him since your last outing is that he’s shameless. “You’re not special, though. Lots of people know who I am.”

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re scum.”

“Do you usually talk to people you barely know in this way or is it preferential treatment? I’d love preferential treatment, but the other option is amusing too.”

“Usually,” you say in a monotone. “That’s why I don’t speak much. More so supposed to be looked at rather than heard, and so on.” You finish off your explanation with a flippant gesture. That’s what it’s like for you — ‘shut your trap, it ruins your appeal.’

“Well, I-” there’s an emphasis on the word ‘I’ because Kaiser always thinks his opinion matters, “-think your worldview is pathetic and embarrassing. What’s the point of being looked at if no one will listen to you? How can you be fine with that?”

Fair point. You concede in your head, but don’t commit to agreeing with him out loud. “You’re not special either. Most people gross me out.”

“You hurt me this time.” He’s sneering, though.

After a while of walking, you find yourself sitting on a bench next to him. A few pigeons strut around near your feet, bobbing their heads back and forth, almost catching a groove. “If I had any bread, I’d feed them.”

“I’m not surprised you’d feel interested in such a commoner’s activity,” Kaiser says, as if he is somehow superior to you for not wanting to participate in this.

“Vile,” you say, voice still neutral. You’re not looking at him either, attention glued to the birds.

He doesn’t know which part of it you find dismaying — was it the class shaming or what? “So you like pigeons, but you hate humanity. You’re one of those.”

“I don’t hate humanity,” you say. “But nature is repulsive by default. It’s not amoral. When we’re cruel and ugly, that’s a conscious and opportunistic decision. Every day CEOs throw their employees and workers under the bus for more profits. Someone’s getting murdered as we speak. We’re faking a relationship to attract brand deals. I’m getting sick just thinking about it.”

“Get a hobby instead of thinking about stupid shit like that. Caring about how ugly and bleak everything is won’t get you anywhere,” Kaiser… advises.

“Look at the pigeons.” You’re watching the one with the missing claws, wobbling and struggling to get around. “Humans domesticated them and then abandoned them. I love flora and fauna. They’re interesting and exist much more differently than we do.”

“Does that mean you like my tattoo then?”

“Not everything needs to be about you. It’s not like people will forget you exist when you don’t force yourself to be at the center of conversation.”

This stings him the tiniest bit. Either you’re probing into an insecurity or he’s reading too deep into what you’re gathering from your conversations with him. “If I wanted to have a pseudointellectual conversation, I wouldn’t ask a vapid model to psychoanalyze me.”

“Your opinions are unoriginal and stereotyped just like your ideas about romance,” you say, finally turning around to face him again with those haunted eyes. He’s unamused now, clenching his jaw and all. “A stupid athlete wouldn’t be my first choice for a ‘pseudointellectual conversation’ either.”

“You look down on others and judge them, so what makes you so different from all those ‘scum’ you hate? How are you exempt from your own standards?”

Do you realize you’re displaying similar behaviors to those you’re scolding him over?

“Well, there’s a simple explanation for that,” you say. Kaiser is expecting an argument or something, but you kind of floor him with your follow-up. “It’s called hypocrisy. I’m probably just as disgusting as the average person.”

“Your life must be miserable if you look at everything through this lens. What was the phrase, rose colored glasses? Yours must have shit smeared over them.”

You shrug then make a 50/50 motion with your hand. “My life’s neither good nor bad. I’m indifferent on the subject.”

“Uh huh.” Kaiser considers this, then his lips twitch up, and then his smile broadens — it’s snide and smug again, and you come to the realization that he probably doesn’t know how to smile in any other way — before he inches a little closer to you. Not enough to brush against you, but enough to count as an attempted provocation. “I think people like you shouldn’t be considered alive. Legally speaking. And if we’re being figurative, you’re obviously already dead.”

You frown at him, since he’s kind of right. The fact that Michael Kaiser has the capability to discern truths you don’t want to hear rubs you the wrong way.

“Speaking of birds,” you start, deciding to change the topic, “you remind me of a peacock.”

“Wrong.” He’s pouty now. You find the expression cute, but when you catch the thought you throw up in your mouth a bit, so you ignore it. “I’m clearly a swan.”

“The fact that you have a preference when it comes to what animal you’re considered is sad.”

“And you’re entertaining. Let’s hang out again soon even if those sorry fucks don’t suggest it.”

You find it bewildering how he calls his PR manager’s input a ‘suggestion’ and seems to think he can do whatever he wants. Which, maybe he does, seeing the way he conducts himself. You’re also tempted to tell him to make up his mind on whether he enjoys your company or not, but there are more important matters right now. “We’re not supposed to do that, I don’t think.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Why this desire all of a sudden?”

“It’s what I want.” What impeccable reasoning. “I think I can make you enjoy yourself,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong. Not for your merit or anything stupid.” Kaiser offers what you’d describe as a flamboyant hand wave in the air, demeanor laced with complacency. “I think it’d make me feel really charitable and generous if I can manage to add something to your depressing life. Give me a chance to try.”

“Word of advice,” you scoot away from him to the point the edge of the bench is digging into your ass and it honestly hurts, “you’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. How you phrased it disgusted me again.”

Kaiser finds your favored terms interesting. Everything is sickening and disgusting and vile and scummy from your perspective. Deep down for reasons he doesn’t want to ponder, he can relate.

“Great. You’ll come around soon,” he promises, with the confidence of someone who thinks this is a game he has a high chance of winning.

___

Kaiser makes it a point to inflict his presence onto you as much as he can afford to with your schedules, even though there’s no need for it. Not that you refuse him either. He’s kind of interesting to keep around, in his own Kaiser-ish way.

Earlier today he invited himself over to your house. He’d decided you need to come up with a story about your ‘relationship,’ but didn’t wanna discuss it through text messages. Apparently he has an interview coming up and wants to be prepared in case they ask him about you.

“How did we meet?” you ask, sitting on the other side of the couch and leaning against the armrest, away from him.

The answer is immediate: “I saved you from a burning church.”

You question what other fantasies this man could probably have because that’s the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. Your voice somehow remains flat despite the bewilderment when you ask, “Why?”

“Because it’s flashy and dramatic.”

“But if anyone searches it up, they’ll see there haven’t been any… burned churches?”

“You’re such a killjoy.” Kaiser sighs. “It makes it sound mystical.”

“No it doesn’t,” you say, rather flippant about the entire thing. “It makes you sound like a pathological liar.”

“I like your sense of humor.”

“Thanks, but I’m not kidding about this.”

“Then what do you think it should be?” Kaiser asks. Obviously the purpose of this inquiry is to criticize your choice of scenario — even you can anticipate such a predictable move.

You roll your eyes and then look away from him in contemplation. You hadn’t really thought about it, since you don’t do interviews, and therefore you don’t need to concern yourself with hypotheticals on the matter. “Some kind of party, maybe. Post-match celebration?”

“Makes sense,” says Kaiser. “Doesn’t compel me, though. Boring.”

With a hum, you try to imagine what would both appeal to Kaiser and sound realistic. Though he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s swayed by practicality. “I went with someone else, but you swept me off my feet so hard, you stole me away from them.”

“I guess it sounds plausible enough while still having an element of fantasy.”

“Is the idea of me liking you the ‘element of fantasy’?”

“Yeah… That’s why I want it.”

You didn’t expect such a response. It has you looking at him weird. You do so often anyway, but now you do it for longer as if trying to glean something. In response Kaiser tells you to take a picture since it’ll last longer. The reply seems extraneous and distracting, and that only makes you feel more suspicious of him, which is weird since you’re not sure what you’re even inferring.

___

Officially it’s your fifth date with Kaiser, unofficially it’s the tenth. This time you’re holding up a frog in your open hands.

He doesn’t know what the point of all the nature-themed outings is — maybe to make him seem down to Earth in the public eye since he’s become notorious for how insufferable he is? Either way he doesn’t care, and he’s not the type to wander at landscapes, but your affinity for ugly animals is kind of cute.

The frog isn’t some special one either. No crazy colors or anything, just a regular green tree frog (according to your expertise). You let it jump onto your palms, since apparently touching their skin is bad for them or something. Kaiser scrutinizes it in distaste, staring down into its big eyes while it croaks. “So you can handle a disgusting amphibian, but you can’t hold hands with me.”

“I see you’re still thinking about that.”

“Well, it was insulting. And besides, it’s never happened to me before.”

“You’re not so bad. I don’t think I’d vomit if we brushed against each other anymore.”

Kaiser seems curious but nonetheless pleased with this development. “Why the change of heart?”

“Because you listen to what I say,” you tell him.

He somehow resists the urge to piss himself laughing at the sound of that. “Your standards are so low. It’s so sad that it’s funny,” he says. Maybe he would’ve dedicated some more time to teasing you over it, but he comes to a realization which immediately lifts his mood. This must mean he’s in your good graces somewhat, and not many people seem to fit there, so that makes Kaiser special to a degree. Right?

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“Who would’ve thought someone who looks the way you do would come out like this?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think you were one of those kids who, like, shoved sticks and leaves in mud and called it a potion.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean now?”

Kaiser lets out an annoyed sound, tired of elaborating. “It means I think you’re strange.”

“Hmm, I bet you do,” you say. “There’s a quote I like: ‘It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.’”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s the kind of message you love. What’s it from?”

“Interesting story,” you say. “This is Jiddu Krishnamurti’s most famous quote, but it doesn’t appear in any of his books. Allegedly he said it to some other guy.”

Kaiser blinks and nods, maybe trying to keep a pretense of having the slightest concept of what you’re on about. “Whatever, got it. I can’t remember the last time I read a book of that sort. Maybe I’ll check him out.”

“You don’t seem like you’d be interested in that type of thing,” you say, staring at him as if you’re trying to figure him out.

“Actually, I am. Can you stop taking every chance to insult me?”

“I’m not. At least not on purpose… So, what are your hobbies, anyway? You never told me.”

“I practice. What do you take me for? Well, I read, too, but psychology non-fiction only.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. “That’s it?”

Kaiser opens his mouth to justify himself even though there’s no need to be defensive — maybe it’s that he feels like he’s lacking in some department after you bring your attention to it with your little response and generally Kaiser hates to be insufficient. But before he can argue and try and talk himself out of whatever perception you have of him now, an interruption happens.

The frog, which had been lazy and content with merely existing in your grasp, springs without any warning. It leaps out of your fingers and lands on top of Kaiser’s head.

Today you learn Michael Kaiser screams at an ear-shattering frequency when he’s startled. Soap opera level of shock and overreaction.

___

It is when you’re eating at a trashy place for lunch that Kaiser’s looking at his phone, which you find rude since you’re supposed to be spending time together and whatnot. He eats like a pig, too, not graceful at all — you wonder what his fans would think if they saw him with crumbs over his mouth and sauce on his chin. Good material for a public embarrassment campaign, you think.

But it’s in that moment that he finally wipes himself with a tissue and reaches out to all but shove his phone in your face. “Look, we’re so hot!”

You grace the picture with a dismissive glance before looking back down at your meal, disinterested. You already know enough about Kaiser to assume he’d get a kick out of power couple fantasies. And other power fantasies. Really, you find it pathetic.

It was something out of the photoshoot he was showing you, his favorite you presume. Even someone like Kaiser, who has conventional features, isn’t perfect when it comes to these unreasonable standards. He’d been way too stiff next to you while he posed and though his face is symmetrical, his expressions tend to stray to one side, and obviously it’d been corrected.

There’s a mismatch between you on the covers and your image in the mirror. Maybe your brain is exaggerating the disconnect, but every time you see them, it’s like staring into an airbrushed, distorted amalgamation. In other words, you prefer avoiding both the edited products and your reflection whenever you can.

“We don’t look like that,” you say, offhand about his enthusiasm as you are with most things.

Kaiser scoffs and then very blatantly tries to compare between whatever version of you he has on his phone and the you in front of him. There’s not a single good thing you can say about his decision — it’s making your skin crawl just knowing it’s what he’s doing.

“Close enough,” he deems after careful examination.

“I don’t think it’s me.”

“It’s quite literally you.”

“I don’t think anything is me. Like I’m just what I see. My perspective, my point of view. You get what I’m saying?”

“No?” Kaiser says, laughing at you and your apparently strange affliction.

“Well if not that, you have to admit things captured on camera aren’t real.”

“What are you talking about,” Kaiser asks in a flat tone, which leaves it as something less than a question. A few more snickers escape him and he’s grinning at you like a bastard — if at first he regarded you as a slightly more fascinating bug than the rest, by now you must be his favorite, the rarest… A tree lobster. “You make no sense.”

“It totally makes sense. Imagine we’re having sex-”

“What kind of stupid come-on is that?”

“It’s not a come-on, I’m explaining. So, imagine we’re having sex-”

“In what position?”

“Whatever you want as long as it works for the scenario. Anyway, imagine we’re having sex-”

Kaiser laughs harder and then attempts some seductive sort of expression which doesn’t land with you. “I’m imagining it,” he informs.

“Shut up and let me get to the point. Imagine we’re having sex and I’m recording it-”

“Wow, I didn’t take you for such a pervert? Not that I hate it.”

“-so I’m looking at you through the camera lens. The phone’s between us. I’m not, like, in the moment with you. My mind’s absent, it’s all digital. So if you think about it we’re not even really having sex.”

“... You’re losing me even more,” Kaiser says after some contemplation, finding the fantasy unpleasant all of a sudden with this new spin to it. A moment passes during which he takes another big, possibly exaggerated bite, but he at least has enough decency to chew and swallow before adding, “I think you just have a problem.”

You roll your eyes, wondering if he even entertained the thought, but shrug since it doesn’t matter in the end. “Why are we always talking about how I’m weird? If anything, you're eccentric, not me.”

Kaiser wrinkles his nose in offense at the notion and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture in the air. “No. I’ve turned out totally normal. Don’t put me at your level.”

A lot of curiosities spin around your head concerning Kaiser’s behavior whenever you meet and you’re yet to find an answer. What does he want? Clearly he’s comfortable with and used to wanting, but what is it? Attention? Money? Fame? Status? All, none? Will it ever be enough? Is it even the kind of hunger which can be satiated?

Who is he when he’s not playing this ridiculous character?

“I can’t get a read on you,” you tell him.

“Well, you’re socially inept. I doubt you can get a read on anyone.”

“So are you.”

Kaiser feigns hurt over this. He does that a lot. Maybe he finds it hilarious, maybe the performance is all for shits and giggles — who knows.

“I want to dissect your head,” you say after a while of silence.

“Really? That’s what you wanna do with me?”

“Mhm. With a scalpel. I’d make an incision around your temple maybe.”

“My beautiful and demented angel, is that your way of saying you wanna get closer to me?” The sentence comes out mocking with a paper thin smile, but there’s a sense of admiration in it. What for? You raise an eyebrow in visible confusion at the… nickname, but Kaiser doesn’t elaborate. To take away from the tension(?), he announces, “You’ve got something stuck between your teeth,” pointing at your mouth all amused.

___

Kaiser had an ulterior motive in accepting that deal. Though wording it this way makes it sound like some calculated, opportunistic, sinister scheme, when in reality it’s nothing beyond immature and a little humiliating.

Of course, in true Kaiser fashion, when looking to meet someone, he goes straight for the most convoluted option. So when the stupid idea came up, he agreed, even if he put on a bit of a show at first and acted irritating. Confessing to wanting friends is so embarrassing. He’d rather shoot himself at point blank or perhaps commit an act of auto-defenestration than admit the real reason for participating, much less in front of you.

Despite the jabs, you’re also not bad at all. Calm and uninvolved in anything that upsets him and without any expectations towards him.

At first he found your indifference derogatory, but as the months have passed by, there’s a sort of comfort in knowing that he could’ve been some random guy off the street and you would’ve probably treated him the same. In front of you he is neither on a pedestal nor someone to be knocked down on his knees. More Michael than he is Kaiser.

Things have been teetering on a dangerous edge lately. His mind is wandering off towards you again, more and more often each day. Like maybe he’s excited for the next time he sees you or something else repulsive in a similar vein, a giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. Is this what it would’ve been like to be a little boy with a crush?

Generally he prefers not to socialize with background characters. So he doesn’t know why it’s while he’s having some benign daydream about you that some newbie he hadn’t bothered remembering the name of decides to interrupt him. Besides, it’s inconvenient, he was supposed to be leaving and this guy is blocking the changing room door.

“I heard you’re banging a model,” he says, as if they’re good pals or some shit. Kaiser is also mostly immune to annoying locker room talk since all the other psychotic men he knows are too busy being as fanatical as him to waste time on something as useless as objectifying someone to pass the time, yet here this lowlife is.

Kaiser regards him with a judgmental side eye — for a second too long, almost television-style — and tries to move and sidestep him. “Why do you care? Pathetic cuck.”

“Woah, don’t be like that. I just thought it was funny. I’ve heard about that person before, would’ve thought it would be more of a hit it and quit it type thing. Yet here you are, still together.”

The emotion that zaps him is almost disorienting. Kaiser bruises easily, but it’s all about him. There’s never been much room for anyone else in his mentality of suffocating self-absorption, a depressing way to try and compensate for anyone who’s ever wronged him. Right now, though, he’s feeling anger on someone else’s behalf. A borderline exotic situation.

“So I was curious if that thing about loonies being the best at fucking was true? I’m assuming it is ‘cause I don’t know why else you’d stay with a schizoid.”

In the heat of the moment, when he’s pissed off, Kaiser is not the most poetic wordsmith. Thankfully politeness and civility are sensibilities which elude him. Without a second thought or any regret, he makes use of his water bottle still in his hand and dumps the entire contents of it over his head before elbowing him out of the way while he’s still confused.

___

You really don’t want to be having this conversation.

For fuck’s sake, you’re on break. And isn’t that supposed to mean relaxation? Yet the other model for the shoot today has been bugging you with unpleasant questions, putting you on the spot.

“Isn’t he a narcissist, though?” she asks, refusing to let go of the topic no matter how unresponsive you’ve been.

“I guess? Maybe. In a way…”

“You’re sooo… I don’t know. Like, you don’t even sound sure about what you’re telling me.” She narrows her eyes at you, leaning in a bit closer. “Aren’t you scared of him? Or is it ‘cause you’re so sheltered, you don’t know not to mess around with guys like Kaiser?”

Scared of him? It sounds ludicrous. At worst he’s whiny.

“He’s harmless,” you say. “Just a little rude and preoccupied with himself, that’s all. Actually, he’s an interesting and attentive person.”

She covers her mouth and lets out a sound of amusement, apparently now finding you more convincing and therefore dropping her worries. “He was saying you guys are suuuuuuuper in love with an interview.”

Not too engaged with the topic — since it’s about whatever lies Kaiser told the interviewer to entertain himself — you ask, “Is that what he was saying?”

“Yep. Didn’t you watch?”

“No.”

“Fine. Maybe he’s ‘interesting and attentive.’ I mean, I don’t believe it, but whatever. What about you, though? Do you like him, let alone love him? Can you even like anyone? I mean, shit, you know how you are. So, like, can you? Are you suuuuuuuper in love?”

You avert your eyes. “Yes,” you say. It’s true. You do like Kaiser well enough, probably more than you should. “And stop making assumptions about him and me.”

“What if I don’t stop? What are you gonna do?”

That’s… A very good question because there’s nothing you can do at the moment. Seems like a good opportunity to weaponize your reputation of being a deranged serial killer. “I’ll lick your eyebrows.”

You don’t know if your delivery is persuasive or not, but the idea you’d do such a thing must come off as believable enough because she makes a strange face before backing off.

___

You despise being in situations. And making decisions.

There’s a stupid PR meeting again. Your manager, who you think should move onto writing trashy novellas instead of administering poison to your career just because his imagination is overactive, proposed a new stunt. With the fake relationship running its course, you were discussing ways to publicize the ‘break up’ and he suggested a cheating scandal. Not to mention his great idea had you as the cheater — you swear he’s praying on your downfall at this point.

Maybe because you’ve been treated as some kind of fucked up creature incapable of thought and trustworthy decisions, something insentient, you would’ve went along with it like always. Even though you know you’d look bad, the point is to make noise, and it would be a scandalous story if not anything else. Another indignity doesn’t matter much on an endless list.

Then Kaiser in true Kaiser fashion declared that he wants to keep the relationship going. To you, such an act of flippant defiance is unthinkable.

But obviously this forces you into a position where you need to pick between your options. They’re all staring at you, waiting. Kaiser is smiling at you from across his seat like you’re in on a joke with him. Anxious, you say, “I’ll think about it,” and stand up to leave.

You’re sweating because somewhere within you wanna announce ‘Yeah, I wanna keep seeing Michael Kaiser,’ but it’s so preposterous.

Kaiser doesn’t chase after you (though it’d be his style to do such a thing solely for the drama), but he catches up to you by the time you make it outside of the building, approaching the parking lot.

“Hey. Hey! Hey, stop ignoring me. Heeeeeeey.”

God he is such an annoying pest sometimes. You turn around to face him, snapping, “What?! What was that about anyway?”

“No, what’s with you? What is there to think about? You don’t want to look like a clown in front of the world, do you?”

You’re looking at Kaiser again like you’re trying to figure out a mystery. He always wants things, but what does he want from you? There has to be a reason for this. Otherwise, he should’ve been fine with the separation instead of trying to prolong it.

“Listen,” says Kaiser, a little apprehensive at your silence and expressionless gaze, “I can tell you barely tolerate your shitty job and that you probably don’t like the moronic idea your anthropomorphized cyst of a manager came up with, so why aren’t you protesting it?”

Those are objective enough observations. However, “Anthropomorphized cyst…?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Kaiser huffs, irked. “And by the way the fake meek act isn’t cute at all. They’re making money off of you. Tell them to fuck off and die and stop acting like a hostage.”

“This is very inspirational and all, Kaiser, but how about you tell me why you wanna keep the fake relationship going?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you don’t want that either, you can say we’ll settle for ending it instead of-”

You cross your arms. “Again, your attempts at a pep talk are adorable and appreciated, but you’re changing the subject now.”

“They’re not adorable. I’m right. Say I’m right.”

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” you relent with a roll of your eyes.

Kaiser smiles snidely and clasps his hands behind his back. “Thanks,” he says in a sarcastic tone. Then you expect him to entertain your question, but he doesn’t, leaving you in an uncomfortable staredown against him and his stupid ‘beautiful glowing blue orbs’ ass eyes.

“Answer me,” you demand.

“Your unpleasant personality and reclusive ways have bewitched me.”

…

…

“… What?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Kaiser says with too much attitude considering the situation. Like, he just spoke out one of the most absurd sentences you’ve ever heard.

“Do you have a brain tumor?”

The outrageous suggestion makes him scoff. “Really? You think I need a brain tumor to like you?”

“Maybe,” you say. “Should’ve let me operate on you when I offered.”

“You’re mentally disturbed,” he replies like the fact turns him on or something.

“So were you asking me out or what?”

“Yes? No? Yes. Yeah, fine, I am.”

“Do you search up ‘personality’ on porn sites?”

“Come on, be serious. I mean what I’m saying and I want to give things between us a try. Do you?”

You cringe as if admitting your feelings or overall being in touch with them in the first place is a physically painful sensation, but in your defense you think you might throw up. “Yeah… Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him tomorrow. My manager, I mean.”

Kaiser swings an arm around your shoulders, visibly pleased with the way this is all going. He sings, “That’s the spirit.”

What had he wanted from you? Affection and care, apparently. You think back on when you’d called him ‘disgusting’ and a foreign guilt overcomes you since you don’t usually lament the remarks you make during your misanthropic hissy fits.

Is it fine for someone such as yourself to also indulge in wanting? Hesitant, with shaky arms, you embrace him around the middle, the gentlest of hugs. Kaiser freezes for a moment as if he’s unsure what to do when he’s not the one initiating things, but eventually returns the gesture. Melts into it, even. Two existences brushing against one another, at first glance contrary yet perhaps similar in many ways.

When you finally pull away from each other little by little, Kaiser says, “Let’s elope now.”

You sigh. “You sure have a way of making everything sound way more exciting than it is.”

(He drives you back to your place, but still sucks at driving. Chivalrously, he avoids crashing the car, though.)

___

Yall I was drinking light yellow tap water for a few daysdo you think somethings gonna happen to me ?

Btw I hate this but it's finally finished after like around a month so whatever lol I' M FREE

[kazumist]

EYES SET ON YOU .ᐟ

✩ — xiao realizes that his eyes were set on you the whole time. if it was since you made your entrance to the party or if it was since you met fifteen years ago, he doesn't really know.

✩ — prompt: felicity – the most chased after of the season asks you for a dance. (another entry for @xianyoon's event yayyyy)

✩ — includes: xiao x f!reader. fluff. cw: alcohol consumption (again,, it never gets old with me sawry) but there's only like two details about it, ooc!xiao pls i have no idea if i wrote him well during the second half. wc: 4164. kuni is reader's twin so you're technically the daughter of ei in this. some liyue and inazuma characters mentioned kinda. slight dual pov?? i guess ... yeah that's pretty much it. no beta i die like xiao almost did during the perilous trail quest tbh !!!

a prince should be confident, courageous, sophisticated, and dignified.

prince xiao checks out on most of those things. if anything, the townspeople in the kingdom of liyue take pride in their beloved prince. king zhongli is proud of his son as well as his older sister, princess ganyu. however, out of all the four traits stated above, there’s only one that prince xiao doesn’t count himself in: confidence. he isn’t referring to confidence when it comes to his abilities; heavens no, prince xiao knows and is proud of his capabilities (although not verbally; he had always been the reserved type of man even when he was a child) in terms of strength and wit. it’s more like the crowned prince of liyue doubts his abilities in terms of being sociable. having connections is a crucial thing for a man like him who’s currently in line for the throne after his father, as these connections could aid him when he takes king zhongli’s place one day. 

marriage, of course, was an inevitable thing. it’s a requirement, a demand that needs to be fulfilled, whether one likes it or not. king zhongli pities his son that he couldn’t escape from this predicament, but the king just assures his son that he should marry someone that he loves. having a loveless marriage has more cons than pros anyway. he wants his son to be happy, this is the least he could do for him.

…as well as the ball that he held in hopes of his son meeting someone of his interest.

it has been a short while since the ball started. many of the young women around xiao’s age had decided to make their move, yet all were fruitless attempts as xiao had already turned them down. they’d put on a forced smile, walking away but as soon as the prince’s back faces them, you could see their grip getting tighter around the fan in their hand if you squinted. xiao retreats back to his father's side, sighing in exhaustion. his social energy wasn’t really made for posh events like these. he looks at the crowd below, catching a glimpse of his sister talking to her friends and entertaining other guests. (xiao had wondered at some point why he was in line for the throne rather than his older sister, who is more capable of ruling than he is, but he soon realizes that it is how the royal hierarchy works.)

his eyes shifts themselves towards the entrance. he’s not surprised that people are still arriving at this hour because, as far as xiao could recall, his father had invited a few other kingdoms to this ball as well. yet xiao could vividly feel his eyes widen as he saw a familiar face that had made it’s entrance—yours.

and all of a sudden, xiao suddenly finds himself being seven years old all over again.

— — — — — — — — 

the young boy hid behind his father, his head peeking out ever so slightly as he eyed the child in front of him. it was a young girl who looked just around the same age as him. she was rather coy as well, as she clung to her mother’s hand. xiao looked at the child’s mother. he had heard of her before, of course. queen ei of inazuma—his father told him that she would be visiting today along with his daughter and son. though he doesn’t really see the son present at the moment. perhaps he didn’t join?

“my apologies for being a tad bit late, king zhongli. kunikuzushi really didn’t want to accompany us.” he heard queen ei sighed. well, that answers one of his questions, at least. king zhongli laughs at her words, “it’s quite alright. there are times when children could get rebellious against their own parents.”

“rebellious? i prefer to call it disobedient.”

his father chuckles again before reaching a hand behind him, patting the seven year old xiao on the head. “xiao, i would like you to meet (name). she’s queen ei’s daughter and is just the same age as you.” he gently says. zhongli knows that his son is not particularly fond of socializing, but he tries to get him out of his shell bit by bit. xiao steadily steps out, slowly stepping forward in front of his father. “(name), i’d like you to meet xiao. i told you that you’d be meeting him today, didn’t i?” queen ei softly says to her daughter. the child silently nods and lets go of her mother’s hands. she approached the young boy, lending out her hand for him to shake.

she stuttered in her words, clearly nervous. “i-i’m (name).” xiao reaches out and receives her hand, saying his name in return as he lets go. “well then xiao, why don’t you take (name) to the castle garden for the meantime? me and her mother are just going to have an important chat.” xiao heard his father. he nods in acknowledgement, and this time it was his turn to reach out his hand for the girl to take. (name) looks back to her mother for approval, eyes asking for permission to allow her to join xiao. “you can go; i’ll come and pick you up as soon as we’re finished.” she says, giving her daughter a little head pat.

hand in hand, xiao led her to the castle’s garden, where the gardeners planted all sorts of beautiful flowers located in liyue. xiao immediately leads the girl to where the qingxin flowers are located. but he doesn’t say anything when they get there—he doesn’t know what to say. should he state how this is actually his favorite flower? but he thinks that boys having favorite flowers isn’t allowed. should he say that this flower reminded him of her? the white flowers swayed against the light breeze in front of them.

“this… this is called a qingxin flower.” he starts. he doesn’t really know what he should say. might as well start with telling you what this flower is, right? “it’s pretty..” you say, admiring it. a fresh and minty scent wafts over your sense of smell. you’re pretty, xiao thinks. but he swallows his words instead and blushes at the thought. but it’s true, you are pretty. you had that small sparkle in your eyes that xiao finds himself captivated by.

your time continued on with you and xiao admiring other flowers such as glaze lilies and silk flowers until your mother and king zhongli entered the castle garden, a sign that their important chat is now over—and that (name) needs to head home. she bids xiao farewell with a small wave and a smile, while her other hand has a qingxin flower in her hold (xiao gave it to her as a little souvenir) and xiao finds himself doing the same. there were no actual goodbyes said, as they both silently hoped that they would cross paths once more.

— — — — — — — — 

the flashback ends when he hears your name being announced. the crowd below him whispered, as your family had already caught the attention of the ton. well, no one could really blame them. xiao noticed numerous things already. your hair had grown much longer, you had grown in terms of height too, and your strides as you made your entrance had confidence in them. this time, xiao noticed how much you took after your mother in terms of aura. queen ei, who’s aging like quite the fine wine, leads you and your brother, kunikuzushi, as you continue walking inside.

it has been fifteen years since xiao last saw you; your last meeting with each other was when they visited—the day you met. of course, you weren’t the little (name) that he met when he was seven anymore. even your brother had taken in some changes, xiao notices. he had spent a fair amount of time with your brother when he went abroad to study and train at the age of eight. this is also a reason why xiao didn’t really have the chance to meet each other again. kunikuzushi had a stern look on his face, while you had a calm one.

king zhongli smiles at the sight of the royal family of inazuma making their entrance. it has been a while since he and queen ei met, as their busy lives as rulers of each of their respective kingdoms are quite demanding. “why don’t you go down and greet them on my behalf?” zhongli muses. xiao simply nods at him, making his way towards kunikuzushi first—after all, he knows him more than he knows you.

“kuni.” he greets his old friend as he approaches the two of you. their mother had her on business to take care of, he supposes, as he takes notice of her sudden absence by her children’s side. “ah, alatus. it’s a pleasure to see you again.” he says. you looked at him in confusion and said, "i’m surprised you’re friendly with other people, brother.” kunikuzushi looked at you, offended by your remark. “sister, what do you simply take me as?” he replies with a forced smile since they were in public at the moment. you ignored your brother, doing a curtsy as you greeted xiao. “it’s wonderful to see you again, prince alatus.” she says.

again? so you remember that time too. “again? since when the hell did you two meet?” kunikuzushi asked. “around fifteen years ago, when mother visited the kingdom of liyue to discuss something important with king zhongli. you were throwing a random tantrum that day and didn’t want to accompany us. also do mind your words, brother. we’re in public for goodness sake,"  you replied, scolding kunikuzushi. 

“and you don’t really need to point out how i had a tantrum back then. i was seven!”

“we were both seven, if i may remind you.”

xiao watches the twins interact with each other. it was different from how he and his older sister would interact. but nonetheless, xiao is somewhat glad that there’s someone in kunikuzushi’s life who could match him in verbal terms. “whatever, how are you faring as of late, alatus?” his friend shifts the topic, giving you an eyeroll, to which you return with a slight jab to his side. xiao then grabs a drink from a refreshment table nearby, taking a slight sip. the taste of alcohol makes contact with his taste buds as he slightly smacks his lips after. “i’ve been...” he trails off. how has he been lately? xiao doesn’t recall. he’s been busy with all of these ball preparations and the mental preparation he needs to take when he is to be married. 

“well. i’ve been quite well.” he finishes. “i’m glad to hear that. i heard you’re looking for a bride this season?” kunikuzushi then asks. “ah, yes. my father thinks it’s about time i start to settle down.”

“what’s the rush? we’re only at the age of twenty and two.”

“he isn’t pressuring me to get myself married away, kuni. but he wants me to start looking now, hence why this ball was held.” xiao sighs. kunikuzushi looks at his friend in pity; well, he isn’t any different. marriage has seemed to be a recent topic as well for queen ei and her son. “excuse me, gentlemen, as i see a friend quite close. i wish the best for you, prince alatus. and brother, watch your behavior, will you?” you then said, stepping away. “hey, what do you—” the other sibling swallowed his words back down his throat, not wanting to suddenly raise his voice.

“god, what does she take me for?”

“someone not trustworthy enough to be left alone, as it seems.”

“shut it, alatus.”

— — — — — — — — 

alatus then encounters you again.

you were alone this time. and xiao had just escaped the horrific clutches of mothers showing off their daughters to him. “it’s nice to see you again.” xiao then greets you, taking the spot beside you. “mhm, same to you.” the silence wasn’t awkward—it was rather serene. both of you stood there, hiding away from the crowd. perhaps you weren’t someone who finds socializing all fun, preferring to be in your own little bubble instead. or perhaps you were also hiding yourself from the other nobles that have attempted to make a move on you.

“what brings you into a corner like this?” he decided to ask.

“oh, it’s... you know, not every noble is necessarily a pleasure to be in the company of, if you get what i mean.” you replied, choosing your words rather carefully.

in your peripheral vision, you see xiao then nod in agreement. so my second guess was right, he thinks. “honestly speaking, i promised my mother that i’d dance with at least one noble tonight. she wants me to step out of my shell, per se, since whenever i accompany her to balls like this, i usually just glue myself to her side.”

“at least you find yourself accompanying your mother either way. i don’t really escort my father a lot.”

“really? and didn’t you make your debut when you were just eighteen? that’s around four years ago already. “didn’t you make your debut at the same age? we’re simply allies in this boat, princess.” xiao then shoots back. you went blank for a moment, processing what he had called you. well, you were a princess. he wasn’t wrong about it, but why did it sound... something different when it rolled off his tongue? “touché.” 

maybe it was the alcohol that he consumed taking it’s effect on him, as xiao felt rather bold now, making a smooth step to stand in front of you. he wasn’t that drunk, but maybe it’s some sort of liquid courage. “well, if you promised your mother for her to be an audience of you dancing with a noble...” he reaches out a hand towards you. the sight is familiar—and this is when you started to realize that a lot of things have changed between you and alatus over the past fifteen years. “may i have the pleasure of being your dance partner tonight?”

you take his hand. “you may.”

widening eyes and hushed gasps weren’t everything you noticed as you and xiao casually made your way to the dance floor. kunikuzushi had his eyebrow immediately raised as he watched your arm linked with xiao’s walking together, pausing himself as he was about to take a sip from his drink in hand. “well, would you look at that?” king zhongli hums in amusement from above, queen ei turning her head to see what he’s looking at.

“my, well, i certainly knew she had taken a liking to your son when they were children, but i didn’t expect it to continue into adulthood.” the queen says.

a new song had just started as xiao took the lead. they swayed—to the left, to the right, forward, and around. with one hand holding yours and the other on your waist, he twirls you around. he then catches you in his hold once more, pulling you close. close enough to hear your steady breathing, close enough to admire your face, and close enough to get himself lost in your eyes.

the close proximity aided you in observing just how much had changed with xiao over the past fifteen years. he had grown taller; that is obviously for one. he wasn’t that shy anymore, as he is now rather demure. his eyes still fascinated you with their unique shade of yellow, as his pupils were sharp—it reminded you of a cat’s. his hair had a few highlights of a lighter shade of green, in contrast to his main hair color.

you then realize that everything has changed.

the scowling of both men and women envied the two individuals dancing in the center. after all, they technically lost. the other women had lost to the princess of inazuma and the other men had lost to the prince of liyue—they wouldn’t dare to even come between them. because as much as they would hate to admit it, both of you were a perfect match. you complement each other well.

then, something xiao had been concerned about for some time happened: the part where he would have to lift her up. it may have been the proximity, the intimacy, or just the fear of letting her fall because it would be difficult for her to stay upright in such heels if his hand slipped. the lady gave a little yelp and fell back to the ground, thankfully without breaking a bone, but there was no time to consider anything more despite the slow music. xiao raised her up with an erratic act of trust.

“what a strong gentleman you are.” you whispered in his ear, commending him for the successful dance move. all eyes were on you now, as everyone was too hooked onto your performance. it was alluring—you were alluring, xiao thinks. the dance then comes to an end as you bow to each other as a sign of respect. he guided you away, and you quickly sneaked in a kiss to his cheek when no one was looking, not even xiao. his eyes widened as he felt your lips come into contact with his cheek. he then raises his hand to feel the spot your lips landed on. 

xiao feels something in his chest, something rather warm.

— — — — — — — — 

after all this time, xiao is still not the one for long conversations. he prefers to indulge in a comfortable silence rather than spend his time in a bustling crowd. so naturally, xiao finds his way into the castle’s garden. he can’t really withdraw from the party; the season has just begun. maybe give him a good two or three more parties and maybe xiao could find a way out to leave early. his cheeks are greeted by the cold and gentle breeze of the night as he steps foot into the garden.

fifteen years is enough time for one to mature and grow up. you and xiao are aware of the dark side that society holds. but one thing hasn’t really changed: his love for qingxin flowers. xiao learned as he grew up. it’s that boys are actually allowed to have favorite flowers. (could you really blame him for thinking otherwise? he was just seven.) making his way to where the qingxin flowers are, he stopped in his tracks as he noticed that he wasn’t apparently alone in the area. 

the lightly dimmed lights that surrounded the garden are what helped xiao see that it was you who was standing there, admiring the qingxin flowers. you seemed to have sensed that someone was behind you, turning around to see who it was, and much to your relief, it was xiao. “prince alatus.” you greeted him again with a curtsy. “princess (name).” he greeted in return with a bow and walked closer to stand beside you. 

“it feels nostalgic to be here again.” you said. xiao stays silent, preferring to listen. “do you remember? you bought me here when we were seven. i remember myself being very shy back then.” you continued, laughing as the memory replays in your head. xiao tries to construct a reply. “mhm, do you know what a qingxin flower symbolizes?” he then asks. “not really. what is it?”

“affection and happiness.” xiao softly smiles. it was just a small one, as he reached out his hand to touch the flower before him. you glance at him, admiring the look on his face.

and suddenly, you found yourself being seven years old again.

— — — — — — — — 

she was nervous. very nervous. as far as she could recall, this was her first time meeting someone outside of their kingdom. she really, really wants to be friends with this xiao boy—she’s heard a few from her mother. so she doesn’t really want to mess up, but she doesn’t even know how to approach him!

as soon as they arrived, she first looked at the tall man in front of them. that should be… king zhongli! she thought that his description fit the one that her mother gave her when she described him. but she looks at her surroundings for xiao. she doesn’t really know what he looks like, since her mother only told her that they’re of the same age and that he’s a nice kid. but she soon notices something behind king zhongli—something dark green? she watched him as he peeked his head out from behind his father and joy washed over her. he’s here! she thought. 

although her expressions don’t really show it, she was overjoyed when she realized that she wasn’t alone. perhaps it’s a common feeling amongst children whenever they encounter someone their age, there’s a familiar force that pushes them to befriend that person. she was no different from that, of course, as this is how she feels towards the boy in front of her now.

after they had been introduced, xiao was holding her hand and directing her to their garden. she took in everything she saw as they walked past, including paintings, decorations, and other things on display. they stopped in front of a small field of pretty white flowers. “this… this is a qingxin flower.” she hears the boy beside her say. a qingxin flower? that’s a bit hard to pronounce… she thinks. as she leans closer to inspect the flower further, it’s minty scent meets her sense of smell. “it’s pretty…” she lets out.

xiao picks one qingxin flower; there’s apparently four on one stem. xiao then takes a flower from those four. she silently watches him, wondering what he’s going to do with it. as xiao stepped closer, she held her breath. she feels the familiar feeling of a flower being tucked behind her ear. she reaches out one hand to touch it. “m-my dad always told me to be nice to girls. but i don’t really know how but i hope that’s okay.” xiao then says, looking away as she giggles at the sight of his ears turning red.

“thank you, xiao!”

while she was on the way home with her mother, she had a huge smile on her face as she gently caressed the qingxin flower’s petals with her fingers. “did you have fun with xiao today, honey?” her mother asks. “mhm! he gave me this flower; isn’t it pretty, mommy?” she exclaims. the little girl then tells her mother about what happened while they were in the garden. queen ei smiles to herself at the sight of her daughter being enthusiastic about her interactions with prince xiao.

— — — — — — — — 

deja vu seemed to take over as you saw xiao pick a qingxin flower. even more when you watch him take another flower from the four. you were replaying the memory of the day you met inside your head but surely you’re back in reality, right?

you breath hitched when xiao stepped closer, tucking it behind your ear again.

“are you perhaps taking me on a trip to memory lane tonight?” you chuckled. xiao simply smiles in return as he steps back. maybe, he swallows the response down his throat. “i realized something tonight.” he then says. “hm? and what might that be?”

xiao was never the type who would say a lot of things. he usually kept his thoughts to himself, hiding them in the back of his mind and dismissing it right away. but for once, he finds himself rambling. “that despite the fact i’m rather modest or demure and the fact that i’m not really an individual who is up for long conversations, i find myself enjoying sharing a silence that’s covered in tranquility. i am a mundane man, (name), yet in spite of that, i can’t help but yearn for an individual like you to accompany me for the rest of my life.” surprised at him for dropping the formalities, you still listened.

“i—forget that. my apologies. i doubt there is anyone who could compare for a woman like yourself in the first place. we aren’t the same seven year olds that spent their afternoon in this exact garden anymore. a lot—if not everything—has changed between us. so let me be selfish for once: would you accept my invitation for a mundane life? you don’t have to feel obligated to give a response now.” you took another qingxin flower from its stem; only two remain now. it was your turn to step closer.

“i won’t give my answer now, xiao.” you start, dropping the formalities with him as well. “this is all rather shocking, after all, but promise this: once summer comes around, there will be a summer festival held inazuma as it does every year. can you promise me your attendance? the sight of the fireworks prepared by the naganohara family is certainly one to commend.”

“i promise.”

xiao then realizes that he had his eyes set on you this whole time—whether the past fifteen years are counted or not, that’s for him to keep.

[rpmemes-galore]

Jane Eyre ... sentence starters

"Do you doubt me?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"Do you think me handsome?"

"You won't be persuaded to stay?"

"So, you and I must say goodbye?"

"Just one last kiss before you leave."

"I need not sell my soul to buy bliss."

"Don't leave me. I like to have you near."

"And what is hell? Can you tell me that?"

"You, sir, are the most phantom-like of all."

"She's dying. I can't ignore her dying wish."

"All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you."

"Even for me, life had its gleams of sunshine."

"You're a strange and almost unearthly thing."

"He made me love him without looking at me."

"I hardly know. I have little experience of them."

"I would always rather be happy than dignified."

"thought you said you didn't have any relatives."

"Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you."

"I have as much soul as you… and full as much heart!"

"You are my sympathy, my better self, my good angel."

"How can you be so stupid? How can you be so cruel?"

"I do not think, sir, you have any right to command me."

"Flirting is a woman's trade, one must keep in practice."

"Remember, the shadows are just as important as the light."

"I was wrong to deceive you. I see that now, it was cowardly."

"Who would you offend by living with me? Who would care?"

"Do you think I am an automaton? A machine without feelings?"

"You've saved my life. Don't walk past me as if we were strangers."

"I am not an angel … and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself."

"I shall never leave. You will never be alone for as long as I shall live."

"I have for the first time found what I can truly love; I have found you."

"can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do."

"You would rather drive me to madness than break some mere human law."

"I know you; you're thinking. Talking is of no use, you're thinking how to act."

"Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs."

"Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?"

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will."

"I am not deceitful! And I am not a liar. For if I were, I should say that I loved you. I do not love you. I dislike you more than anyone in the world."

"I do not think, sir, you have any right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have."

"If all the world hated you and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved of you and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends."

[hedgehog-moss]

A post about Pirlouit’s debut as a noble steed! (Part II)

Our destination for this first trip on donkeyback was the nearest farm on the plateau (+ the three houses which together with it form a small isolated hamlet), to say happy new year to these neighbours. It’s not very far when I go with Pandolf because we take a shortcut through the forest and then straight across the plateau (patchworked with small pastures), slipping under every fence. But my donkey is too dignified to crawl under fences, so we had to take the road, which is a longer but also very nice itinerary. There are maybe 3 cars per day on average, but it’s a snowplough-forsaken road so in winter it’s basically zero (except the postwoman).

I wasn’t riding him at first because he didn’t want me to—I tried and he instantly stopped and turned back towards his pasture. I think he was a bit nervous about being on the road, and preferred to follow another animal. I was saying in the previous post that I started riding him in the past year, but as I don’t have a bridle for him and he’s terrified of riding crops (or any sticks), it’s hard to make him do things he doesn’t want to do (I suspect it would be hard anyway).

So my strategy has been to treat him less like a car and more like a bus—i.e. I hop on when he’s going somewhere I also want to go. My first attempts to do so were when we were at one end of his pasture and he saw the llamas at the other end looking interested in something (food?? visitor?) and wanted to check it out too (visitor = scary, but could be bringing food. Worth having a closer look.) At first Pirou was like uhhhh no and just stopped walking when he realised he had a hitchhiker on his back, but after a while he started tolerating me for these short trips across the pasture.

Step 2 was taking him on a walk (by foot) in the woods behind my house, letting him eat brambles and clean up the place along the way, and when he started showing signs of wanting to return to his pasture I’d climb on his back like “don’t mind me, live your life!” and he would grudgingly resume walking like okay, since you’re not making me do anything you can stay.

Then I started tying his rope to the side buckles of his halter so I could tug his head left or right (+ encouraging leg squeezes) and make gentle itinerary suggestions. When he was in the mood for it we could do little slaloms around trees; when he wasn’t (if it was too close to dinner time) he’d just ignore me and dash straight ahead so the llamas wouldn’t eat all the hay. (I’ve tried to explain to him that there will be no hay if I’m not here to give it, and his FOMO is based on a fundamental misunderstanding of my role in his life, but to no avail.)

He still very much interprets my tugs on the ‘reins’ and hip- or leg-based indications re: direction and pace as humble opinions from his rider that he has the power to veto since he’s the one walking after all, and I think that’s fair. It wasn’t a problem for our trip to the farm because there’s just one road to go there, all you have to do is follow it without any directional fine-tuning. After a while walking on that perfectly quiet road without coming across a single car, Pirlouit started looking more confident and I tried to hop on his back again, and this time he was like pfff okay, and kept walking :) But from then on he viewed himself as the de facto leader of our trip. His first executive decision was to walk on the side of the road, where there’s grass under the snow, rather than on the snowy asphalt—I think he worried about hidden patches of ice.

Sometimes he’d stop for a few minutes to contemplate the horizon and think about life. I figured he’d walk faster and maybe even trot once we were on our way back and dinnertime was approaching, so I didn’t mind the leisurely pace.

At one point he wandered off the road and I dismounted to lead him back in the right direction, but then realised he’d heard water sounds and had decided to stop for a drink in this rivulet. I was like “there’s a communal water trough at the hamlet but you don’t know that, so, okay.” But when we got there, the trough turned out to be frozen so Pirlouit was right to play it safe!

He also stopped every so often for a snack, I assume following the same approach of “better safe than sorry, I might never find food again.” I had a book in my coat pocket so I would read a few paragraphs while he ate. He always picked the thorniest bushes and prickliest brambles he could find. I ended up getting the feeling he was showing off a bit—maybe donkeys dare each other to eat thorny bushes the way humans do with spicy food.

I dismounted again to take a picture here because this rare, straight portion of the winding road really made me wish I had a sleigh! Imagine Pirlouit all festooned with bells too, he would hate it <3

As we found the first pasture that belongs to my farmer neighbour, Pirlouit stopped, looking mesmerised. Maybe it smelled good? He stood there for a bit like “Look! A mountain of hay bales! This road led to donkey heaven and I had no idea”

When we reached civilisation (i.e. 3 houses) I dismounted for good as Pirlouit got very hesitant. He’d forgotten the existence of houses that aren’t ours.

He was also a bit terrified by the concept of chickens that aren’t ours. He refused to take a single more step in the direction of Unknown Chickens so I ended up backtracking and tying him to a post next to a suitably thorny bush, before going on my social visits.

I used to know the farmer on the plateau because Pampe eloped to his farm a lot when she was a kid, but then he retired and sold his farm to a young couple, and I kept thinking, “Well I’ll meet them next time Pampe escapes” but she never escaped that far again! So I finally met the new neighbour (I only met the guy, his wife wasn’t here) six months after he arrived, and I explained my llama-based reason for not visiting sooner, and he basically said “yeah I’ve heard about your llama menace. I’ll be happy to meet her if she ever feels like hiking all the way to my farm again!” He was very nice. I also went to wish a happy new year to the other neighbours but only one of them was home. I left my New Year card featuring baby Poldine at the other two houses—I placed one of them in a garden gnome’s hands which made me feel like an Austen character paying calls and leaving calling cards to the servant.

Pirlouit was quiet and patient at first, but then he finished eating his shrub (I assume) and started braying indignantly. Clearly I had left him here to die of exposure while I feasted inside a warm house and it was getting late and he was going to miss hay o’clock and he was the loneliest saddest hungriest donkey in the whole world and oh, you’re here! (stops mid-bray)

He was very eager to go home before the llamas ate all the hay (again—without me there’s no—oh, never mind) and didn’t even stop to grumble when I climbed on his back again, he was like fine whatever but HURRY!, and walked at record speed on the way back. But didn’t trot, because icy ground.

He didn’t stop to contemplate the horizon and his place in the universe this time around, but I still managed to capture some lovely pink and gold skies here and there :) (and the fires of Mordor after the sun disappeared for good) (and then it got really cold and Pirou & I were united in our haste to get home.)

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 7)

Vol 1 Vol 2 Vol 3 Vol 4 Vol 5 Vol 6 (Not Required) Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader

When Nanami goes on a work trip, his cute little housewife can’t help but miss him…

Word Count: 1.8k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, lightly suggestive, wearing Nanami's shirt...

A/n: I was feeling like writing something cute... hope you enjoy!

“Goodbye, my darling, stay safe,” were the last words you muttered to your husband, Nanami, before giving him a kiss as he left the house. Even to him, going on a trip without you was unfathomable, though it had only been three months since your marriage.

It was a work trip for three days, more or less to entertain the heads of a business Nanami’s company was hoping to partner with. It was not his intention to get chosen, there were plenty of other employees, but his standout reputation as a professional, down to business senior manager made him an easy candidate. 

Nanami wiped his forehead with the cloth you had packed with his lunch, something that he appreciated after hearing the news. His boss’s booming enthusiasm had him somewhat hesitant to downright decline the offer, especially the part about him being on the only one who could do the job. 

Maybe he was starting to like doing the bare minimum to keep on top of his work. Being a slacker wasn’t something to be proud of, but it sure was easier than caring in his case. His demeanor was far more dignified than the younger employees, and it’s not like he didn’t produce good results for the company. But the one thing he didn’t want, was for it to take away from his time with you, and any more attention on him from the higher-ups would do just that.

Instead, it was you who inspired him to go. Something about being able to plan a surprise for him for when he got back, the encouragement for him to do something that would hopefully make him get to know his coworkers better.

While you were happy to know your husband was doing well at work, you still got that sinking feeling when he brought the topic up. “Of course you should go, we don’t have anything planned this week and it isn’t that far away,” you fake smiled your way through the conversation, trying to come up with a reason. It would be the first time you were alone in the house for that long without him, you hadn’t gone on a trip since your honeymoon together. 

“Since this one is short, it could help you make up your mind on doing other ones…” you mumbled, carefully stacking the plates on top of each other and carrying them to the kitchen. “I know, but I still don’t want to leave you alone,” Nanami groaned, “Besides, I would rather not spend more time working than I have to.” You sat back down at the table. 

“Don’t you also get a few days off afterwords? We could do something together. I have been meaning to get some things done anyways…” you muttered, giving him a look. “Some things… do indulge me, my love,” he smirked back at you. “A surprise,” you shook your head as he laughed. “Fine, I’ll contact my department,” he stood up, sighing in exhaustion. 

Nanami left for his three day long trip, though not without a yellow scarf carefully tied around his neck, and a neatly ironed jacket. The weather had said it would be windy where he was going. After loading up his bags in the car, he was being picked up by a coworker, the two of you said your final goodbyes, and then he was gone. 

That was in the early morning when it still felt like a normal day. You went about your morning and afternoon routine, you had still packed him a lunchbox to take with him. The sun was shining, and aside from the absent-minded glances at your wedding photo on the table next to the couch, it seemed the same. 

Inevitably, the evening came, and by the usual 5:35 Nanami still wasn’t home. Of course he wouldn’t be, he was hours away. You tried to entertain yourself, first eating a dinner consisting of leftovers, and then sitting down on the couch to do the final touches on the new suit jacket you were making for him.

It wasn’t your best work, as you were more used to sewing simple dresses, aprons, and occasionally mending things, so it was the first undertaking of a challenge like that. Getting your husband’s measurements in an inconspicuous manor was a struggle as well, leafing through his closet in hopes of finding a note from the tailors. 

A light gray suit jacket, something functional he might be able to wear to work if it was taken to an actual tailors and fixed, but after two months of work in your free time, you were quite proud of what you had created. It was something Nanami could hold onto as a gift from his lovely wife. 

The next day was the first without him there at all. As you washed the dishes, all you could think about was calling him, though you knew he would be in meetings all day and would call you when he had the chance. But finally that day passed and it became the third, and you were truly grateful he would be home in the morning. 

You dressed yourself in a light pink nightgown, it was Nanami’s favorite. The two nights before had been the worst sleep you’d gotten in a very long time, missing Nanami’s weight behind you while he wrapped his arms around your waist. You sighed, pulling it off and hanging it up again, instead opting for one of Nanami’s sleeping shirts, one that was just worn by him briefly before he left. He would be home soon afterall, it would be a waste to wear it just for yourself. 

You put your hair up, sinking into bed. It only reminded you of that conversation the two of you had right after your marriage, trying to decide where the two of you would sleep. However, cuddling always seemed to dictate your spot on the bed, so neither the left nor the right side felt correct to lay on after all those months. You sprawled yourself out in the middle laying on your side, pushing a few pillows next to your back and taking Nanami’s to your face, and coupled with the shirt, it smelled just like him. 

Just as you were about to fall asleep, the phone finally rang, and you hurriedly picked it up. “Hello? Kento?” you asked, waiting to hear his voice. “Y/n, I’m sorry I couldn’t call earlier,” he spoke, you could hear his heavy breaths through the speaker. “We were with the clients all day, I don’t think I’ll be doing this again  if I can avoid it,” he voice was scratchy and tired. “I missed you, Kento,” you tried to speak quietly yourself, focusing on the sound coming from him. “I miss you too, my love,” he smiled hearing your words, even if he couldn’t see your face. “They had us turn in our phones, for confidentiality reasons,” he explained. “Makes sense, you’ll be back tomorrow?” you turned to lay on your back, holding the phone to your ear. “Yes, probably around 10:30,” he let out a long sigh. “I can’t wait to hear all about it,” you smiled, knowing your husband and you were tired. “I’ll stay on the phone until you fall asleep, how about that?” he asked as you put the phone on speaker mode and set it on the nightstand.

He started talking about his plane trip, and the struggle the group had when trying to find the hotel, they barely made it to the first meeting with the business representatives. By the third time he asked if you were still awake, you were sound asleep, he could hear your soft breathing through the phone. “Goodnight, my love, I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered, before hanging up. Smiling to himself in the hotel room, he finished packing up his things for the early flight out, including the picture of the two of you he brought with and sat on his desk. 

When he finally got home, it was Saturday. Your gift was already wrapped and set on the table in the living room, and the house was already clean from the day before. Of course with the combination of your tiredness, and being used to sleeping in late on the weekends, it  almost lead to your absence at the door when Nanami walked in.

You ran to the door, Nanami walking in promptly at 10:30, and assisted him with his bags as if nothing was unusual. His smile remained as he eyed you, having not seen his cute little housewife in three whole days. More specifically, though, was the way you stood there, wearing his shirt. It was long enough to be a short dress for you, loosely covering your body as you greeted him with a soft smile and quick apology. “I’m so glad you’re back, Kento,” you helped him with his things as he hung up his coat. Nanami smirked, moving his hand to your cheek as he leaned down. “What a perfect surprise, my love,” he motioned to your outfit. Your face flushed bright red as you avoided his eyes, about to speak, though that was shortly cut off with a kiss. “I’m sorry, I slept in on accident,” you started, “your gift is on the table, I’ll go change,” he stopped you from moving. 

“I quite like it, actually,” his hand moved down to intertwine with yours. ���I’ve never seen you wear my shirts before,” he opened the box on the table, moving the paper from on top of the jacket. 

“It’s not perfect, but I tried to make it to your measurements,” you muttered shyly, as he held it in his hands. “To think you’ve been working on this all this time,” he put the jacket on over his usual button up. “It fits quite well,” you always loved how your husband looked in a suit, and it was no different wearing this. “Should I take it to the tailors?” you asked, as he stared at the embroidery on the inside of the jacket. “I think it’s perfect, thank you, my love,” he pulled you against his chest. 

“I’m glad you like it,” you smiled. “I seem to have a new favorite garment, it came just in time,” he remarked, loosening his tie and folding the jacket back up. “Since I have that time off, we should go somewhere and show this off,” Nanami grabbed your hand, starting to walk towards the bedroom. “Though, right now, I’d just like to spend time with you, my love.” 

“I’m curious, why the change in outfit?” he asked once you entered the room. “Because… I missed you,” you mumbled, “and it smells good, like you.” Nanami gave you a smirk, picking up his pillow from where it laid in the middle of the bed. “And my pillow too, hmm?” you covered your face with your hand, embarrassed. “Well if you like my scent so much, I can certainly do something about that,” he chuckled, pulling you into a hug.

[radicalqueenelsa]

You're not transmasc/nonbinary in spite of your conservative upbringing but because of it

Your parents and your culture growing up taught you that women are weak and subservient and must be feminine and obedient and exist to please others and be looked at and lusted after. That's not what you want to be, and rather than expanding your definition of womanhood, rather than realizing women don't have to be like that, you slap a label on yourself to differentiate yourself from all other women, who are definitely like that. Women get harmed and raped and humiliated and you want to feel proud and dignified and safe. You're not like them, that's why you feel that way. Women don't have complex thoughts and personalities. They're nothing like you and you're nothing like them. You're nonbinary.

Your parents and culture have taught you that men are strong, reliable, that their opinions are heard and respected. They're in charge, they're dominant, they can never be hurt. You don't question that image, you aspire to be like that. You're not a weak woman who is worthless, your opinion matters, you matter, so you're a man. You're safe from rape and abuse now, you feel valued and unashamed, and that's not what women feel like. They're happy to be put in their place, you're not. You're a transgender man.

You're so deep entrenched in the gender hierarchy you don't even notice a world exists outside of it. You don't see that women and men come in all possible nuances of every personality under the sun: you were never taught that's possible. You're not getting out of that pit of your upbringing. You're digging it deeper and painting it sparkly purple.

[amethystarachnid]

Hello, I’d love to request something for you

It’s for Tony and female reader, they are friends with benefits and she ends up getting pregnant, she’s afraid to tell Tony and afraid of his reaction because their arrangement doesn’t involve feelings (but they are so deeply in love with each other already) so she starts getting a little cold with him and Tony gets sad, until one day they decide to talk and reader tells him that she’s pregnant and that she understands if he doesn’t want the baby but Tony is so happy to be a father and to be a father of a baby with the woman he loves 🤍 after the news they will turn into a real couple and be so happy together. Thank you! 🤍

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: spicy, some mixed angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k

ᯓ★ Summary: Accidents happen, right? That's what you keep telling yourself the days after the condom broke while you and Tony were...together. Your period doesn't come but you lie to Tony and tell him it as, because he surely doesn't want a kid, right?

ᯓ★ TW(s): a small spicy scene, condom breaks

ᯓ★ I love family man Tony so much, matter of fact, I love every character seen as a family man I don't know why lol.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The fluorescent lights of the Stark Tower kitchen are glaring, but not as much as Tony Stark’s smirk. He’s leaning against the counter, casually sipping coffee like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. But you know better. You see the faint twitch of his lips, the amused glint in his eyes that’s practically begging you to break the silence.

“You’re being weird,” you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the fridge.

“Weird?” he repeats, mock-offended. “I’m drinking coffee in my own kitchen. What’s weird about that?”

You raise an eyebrow. “The way you’re looking at me. Like... like you’re picturing something.”

Tony doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I’m definitely picturing something.” He tilts his head, eyes roaming over you in a way that’s anything but subtle. “Something that happened roughly seven hours ago, give or take.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you quickly avert your gaze. Seven hours ago, you’d been in Tony’s bed—or rather, sprawled across it while his hands did things you’re not entirely sure you’ll ever recover from. It’s supposed to be casual, the thing you have with him. No feelings, no strings. Just… stress relief, as Tony had so eloquently put it when this arrangement started.

But Tony Stark has a way of making casual feel like a loaded gun, just waiting to go off.

“Keep it down,” you hiss, glancing toward the door. “Do you want the others to hear?”

Tony raises his eyebrows in mock innocence. “What others? I’m pretty sure we’re alone.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you grab an apple from the counter, pretending to be far more interested in it than the infuriating man in front of you. Tony doesn’t move. He just keeps looking at you with that stupid smirk that makes your stomach flip in a way that’s both exhilarating and dangerous.

“You know,” he says after a beat, “if you keep trying to play the ‘nothing to see here’ card, it’s going to make things more obvious.”

“Obvious?” You scoff. “There’s nothing to make obvious.”

Tony sets his mug down and closes the distance between you in two easy steps. You barely have time to react before he’s towering over you, his arms boxing you in against the fridge. His cologne—some kind of absurdly expensive blend that probably costs more than your rent—wraps around you like a second skin.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice low enough to send shivers down your spine. “I’m a genius. You think I don’t notice the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching?”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, you do.” His lips curve into a smug grin, and damn it, why does he have to look so good doing it? “And let’s not forget how you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself when we’re alone.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, his voice dropping another octave. “Don’t worry. I like it. But you might want to work on your poker face, darling, because if I can tell, you can bet your ass the others will.”

The implication makes your stomach twist. “They don’t know.”

“Not yet,” Tony agrees. “But I wouldn’t underestimate Romanoff. Or Rogers, for that matter. The guy might be old-fashioned, but he’s not blind.”

You groan, pushing against his chest to create some distance. “This is exactly why we need to keep things… professional in public.”

Tony chuckles, stepping back just enough to let you breathe. “Sure. Professional. That’s exactly the vibe we give off.”

You glare at him. “I’m serious, Tony. If this gets out—”

He interrupts you with a finger pressed to your lips. “Relax. I’m not exactly running my mouth about it. What we do—” He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “—or don’t do—is nobody’s business.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you hate how easily he gets to you. You know you should say something, maybe call him out for being so infuriatingly cocky, but the words catch in your throat when his hand brushes against your hip, his touch just light enough to make you ache for more.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter.

“And yet, here you are,” he quips, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Before you can respond—or do something stupid, like kiss him—the sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you shove Tony away, nearly knocking the apple off the counter in your haste to look casual.

The door swings open, and Steve Rogers walks in, his expression as neutral as ever.

“Morning,” he says, nodding at the two of you.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice a little too high-pitched for comfort.

Tony, of course, is the picture of nonchalance. “Cap,” he says, raising his mug in a mock salute. “How’s it going?”

Steve gives him a once-over, his gaze lingering just long enough to make you sweat. But if he notices anything unusual, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and heads for the door.

“Training in ten,” he says over his shoulder. “Don’t be late.”

As soon as he’s gone, you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “See? This is why we need to be more careful.”

Tony shrugs, unbothered. “Relax. If anyone could smell trouble, it’d be Rogers. And he didn’t say a word.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t suspect something.”

Tony smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe. But then again, maybe he just thinks you can’t resist my charm.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet…” He steps closer, his voice dropping to that dangerously seductive tone that makes your knees weak. “You keep coming back.”

Before you can respond, he’s gone, sauntering out of the kitchen like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You, on the other hand, are left standing there, your heart racing and your head spinning.

This is going to be harder than you thought.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Tony’s fingers tangle in your hair, his lips trailing hot, demanding kisses down your neck as your back hits the soft sheets of his bed. The city lights outside cast long, flickering shadows across the room, but you barely notice. You’re far too focused on the way Tony’s hands roam your body like he’s memorizing every inch of you, the rough pads of his fingers igniting fire wherever they touch.

"You're incredible," he mutters, his voice thick with reverence and hunger as he leans back to look at you. His gaze rakes over you like you're the most exquisite thing he's ever laid eyes on, and for a moment, you're lost in the intensity of his expression. It's almost too much. Almost.

"You're not so bad yourself," you tease, though your voice comes out breathier than you'd like. It doesn’t matter. Tony doesn’t need words to know what he does to you.

He smirks at your reply, his trademark arrogance mingling with a rawness he rarely lets anyone see. He dives back in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that leaves you dizzy and aching. Everything about him is overwhelming in the best possible way—the taste of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble against your skin, the way his hands grip your hips like he can’t bear the thought of letting you go.

The night is a blur of heated whispers, tangled sheets, and the sound of your name falling from his lips like a prayer. By the time you both collapse back onto the bed, spent and panting, the world feels a little hazier, a little quieter. His arm is draped lazily over your waist, his body warm against yours as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“You’re something else,” he murmurs, his voice soft but edged with that familiar playful lilt.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply, your heart still racing as you close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you.

But then, his hand stills on your hip. There’s a beat of silence, followed by a quiet curse under his breath.

“What?” you ask, your voice sharp with alarm as you sit up slightly to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Tony doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulls back just enough to inspect the condom in his hand—what’s left of it, anyway. The air between you shifts instantly, the charged intimacy replaced by something colder. His jaw tightens, his gaze flickering to yours, and you don’t need him to say anything to understand.

It broke.

Your stomach twists, panic creeping in around the edges of your mind. You know what this means. You know the risks, the possibilities. And judging by the way Tony is staring at you, his usual confidence momentarily stripped away, he knows too.

“Okay,” you say quickly, sitting up fully and reaching for his hand. “It’s fine. We’ll handle this.”

“Handle it?” he echoes, his tone sharp. His fingers curl into a fist around the useless piece of latex, his frustration evident. “Do you have any idea—”

“Yes,” you interrupt firmly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know. But freaking out isn’t going to help.”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You place your hand over his, squeezing gently. “I know. But it did, and we’ll deal with it.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his dark eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find something—reassurance, maybe, or some kind of solution to a problem neither of you can undo. Finally, he nods, though his jaw is still tight.

“I’ll take care of it,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. “I’ll get the pill tomorrow morning. It’s not a big deal.”

His eyebrows shoot up, his expression a mixture of skepticism and concern. “Not a big deal? Y/N—”

“Tony,” you cut him off, your tone firmer now. “I’m serious. It’s fine. These things happen. That’s why emergency contraception exists.”

He doesn’t look convinced. If anything, he looks more agitated, his mind no doubt racing through every worst-case scenario. You can practically see the calculations happening behind his eyes, his genius brain working overtime to solve a problem that can’t be solved with tech or money or wit.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching up to cup his face. His stubble is rough against your palm, but his skin is warm, grounding. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he does, his eyes locking with yours. There’s a vulnerability there, buried beneath the layers of charm and bravado he wears like armor. It’s a side of him he rarely lets anyone see, and it makes your chest ache.

“It’s going to be okay,” you say, your voice steady. “I promise.”

He exhales slowly, some of the tension in his shoulders easing at your words. He places his hand over yours, holding it against his cheek like he’s drawing strength from your touch.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he murmurs, his tone softer now. “This is my fault.”

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” you say firmly. “It just happened. And it’s not the end of the world.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze searching yours like he’s trying to gauge whether you really believe what you’re saying. You hold his gaze, willing him to see that you’re not afraid—that you’re in control, even if the situation feels precarious.

Finally, he nods again, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Alright,” he says quietly. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you reply, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Now, stop overthinking it and come back to bed.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“Someone has to be,” you tease, lying back down and pulling him with you. He goes willingly, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go.

As you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you feel the tension slowly drain from his body. He still holds you a little tighter than usual, and you know the worry is still there, lurking beneath the surface. But for now, you’re both safe in the quiet cocoon of his bed, and that’s enough.

The morning sunlight spills into the bedroom, cutting through the blinds in thin golden slats. You wake up before Tony, which isn’t unusual. His arm is slung lazily over your waist, and his face is relaxed in a way that makes him look younger, softer—like he’s let go of the weight of the world, if only for a few precious hours.

You slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him. Your feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and you grab one of his shirts from the edge of the bed, slipping it over your bare skin before padding out of the room. The small box you picked up from the pharmacy the night before sits on the kitchen counter, unopened. Your stomach twists as you pick it up, the weight of it heavier than it should be.

It’s not the first time you’ve taken the pill, and logically, you know what to expect. It’s supposed to be a fail-safe, a last resort. But something about the circumstances makes your chest tighten as you swallow the pill with a sip of water. The air feels thicker this morning, heavy with an unspoken tension that you can’t quite shake.

By the time Tony joins you, freshly showered and looking far too put-together for someone who stayed up so late, you’ve shoved the box deep into the trash and plastered on your best neutral expression. He doesn’t mention the pill. He doesn’t ask if you took it, though you know he’s probably been thinking about it. Instead, he leans casually against the counter and makes a joke about the kitchen being out of coffee, his easy demeanor doing little to mask the faint tension in his voice.

You don’t call him out on it. The last thing you want is to drag the conversation back into that same spiral of worry. Instead, you focus on normalcy—breakfast, half-hearted banter, the comforting rhythm of your strange, secret dynamic.

Days pass. A week. Maybe more. At first, you’re fine, brushing off the gnawing anxiety at the back of your mind. But when the calendar flips over to a new month and your period is nowhere to be found, the panic starts to creep in.

You check your phone obsessively, googling every possible explanation that isn’t what you’re afraid of. Stress, you tell yourself. Hormonal shifts. The pill can do this, right? Throw off your cycle? It’s not like your body works on a perfect schedule anyway.

And yet, as the days continue to pass, your chest tightens a little more every morning. The thought of telling Tony lingers at the edge of your mind, a shadow that grows darker every time you push it away. You think back to the night it happened, to the way he looked at you when the condom broke. The frustration, the fear—it’s all burned into your memory, and you’re not sure you can bear to see that look again.

So you don’t tell him.

When he asks casually a week later if “everything’s sorted,” you force yourself to smile and nod. “Yeah,” you say, your voice far steadier than you feel. “It was just a big scare. Everything’s fine now.”

The relief that washes over his face makes your heart sink. He leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as his lips curve into an easy grin. “Good. That’s good.”

He doesn’t realize the way your stomach twists when he says it. He doesn’t notice the faint tremor in your hands as you reach for your coffee cup, your fingers brushing against the ceramic edge like it’s the only thing grounding you.

Tony doesn’t dwell on it after that. He’s good at compartmentalizing—too good, sometimes. Once he’s reassured, the topic is filed away in whatever mental vault he keeps for things he doesn’t want to think about.

But for you, it lingers.

You try to push it down, to bury it beneath layers of distraction. Missions, training, pretending that the world hasn’t shifted beneath your feet. But every time you’re alone, the weight of the lie presses against your chest, making it harder to breathe.

You catch yourself staring at him sometimes, wondering what he would say if you told him the truth. Would he panic? Shut down? Or would he surprise you, the way he sometimes does, with a level of vulnerability that makes your heart ache? You don’t know, and the uncertainty is almost worse than the fear itself.

One night, as the two of you sit curled up on the couch watching some old black-and-white movie he insisted you’d love, you feel the words bubbling up in your throat. The urge to tell him is almost overwhelming, the silence between you stretching thin and taut like a thread about to snap.

“Tony—” you start, but he cuts you off with a lazy smirk, his hand brushing against your thigh.

“You’re not actually paying attention, are you?” he teases, nodding toward the screen.

The moment slips through your fingers like water, and you force a laugh, shaking your head. “Not really,” you admit, though the words feel hollow in your mouth.

He grins, leaning in to kiss your temple. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The warmth of his touch should be comforting, but all you feel is the gnawing guilt in the pit of your stomach.

Days turn into weeks. You’ve never been particularly religious, but you find yourself silently praying every night, begging for some kind of resolution that doesn’t involve your entire world unraveling. You know you can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, the truth will come out, whether you want it to or not.

But for now, you cling to the fragile illusion of normalcy, pretending that everything is fine, that the ache in your chest isn’t growing louder with every passing day.

It’s late one evening when the weight of it all finally becomes too much. You’re standing in the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin looks paler than usual, your eyes shadowed with exhaustion. You press a hand to your stomach, your fingers trembling as you let out a shaky breath.

You can’t do this. You can’t keep pretending.

But when you step out of the bathroom and find Tony sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through something on his tablet with an easy smile on his face, the words die in your throat. He looks so… unburdened, so relieved.

You sit down beside him, your movements stiff and robotic. He glances at you, his expression softening as he sets the tablet aside. “Hey,” he says, his voice low and warm. “You okay?”

You nod, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” you lie. “I’m fine.”

It’s not fine. None of this is fine. But as Tony wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, you let yourself fall into the comfort of his embrace, even if it feels like it’s built on a crumbling foundation.

Because right now, it’s easier to let him believe the lie than to face the truth.

And for better or worse, you’re not ready to let go of the fragile peace that lie has created. Not yet.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The bathroom feels colder than usual, the air thick with a kind of tension you can almost taste. You’re sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, staring at the small white stick on the sink like it’s a bomb waiting to go off. Your heart pounds so loudly in your chest that it drowns out everything else—the hum of the air conditioning, the distant city sounds drifting through the window, even your own breath.

You’ve been here for what feels like an eternity, though it’s probably only been a few minutes. The instructions on the box said three minutes, but you’re too scared to look. Too scared to confirm what your body has already been hinting at for days.

Your period is ten days late. Ten.

You’ve always been irregular—stress, missions, even the pill you took that morning can throw your cycle off—but ten days? That’s more than a delay. That’s a sign.

You’re holding your breath, your hands clenched tightly around the fabric of your pajama pants. You want to stand up, to take that final step and see the result, but your legs won’t move. You’re frozen, caught between the urge to know and the overwhelming fear of what you might find.

When you finally gather the courage to stand, your knees feel shaky, like they might buckle under you. You lean over the sink, your trembling hand reaching for the pregnancy test. It takes everything in you to flip it over, to look at the little window that holds the answer to the question you’ve been too terrified to ask.

Two lines.

Positive.

You blink, your breath catching in your throat as the reality of it sinks in. For a moment, you feel like the ground beneath you has shifted, like the whole world has tilted on its axis. This can’t be real. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

And yet, as you stare at those two little lines, a strange, unexpected feeling blooms in your chest. It’s faint, fragile, but it’s there—happiness.

Your hand flies to your mouth as tears spill down your cheeks. You don’t even know why you’re crying. Is it shock? Fear? Joy? Maybe it’s all of it, a tangled knot of emotions you can’t begin to unravel.

You sink to the floor, your back against the cold bathroom tile, clutching the test in your hands like it’s a lifeline. Tears blur your vision, but you don’t wipe them away. You just sit there, letting the wave of emotions crash over you.

You love him. That’s the thought that breaks through the chaos in your mind, clear and undeniable. You love Tony Stark. Of course, you do. You’ve loved him for longer than you care to admit, longer than this arrangement of yours has been going on. And now, you’re carrying a piece of him inside you—a tiny, fragile piece that terrifies you and fills you with a strange, aching kind of hope all at once.

But then the fear creeps back in, sharp and insistent.

You think about the way he reacted that morning after the condom broke, the tension in his shoulders, the way he’d paced like he was trying to solve an unsolvable equation. You think about the relief that washed over his face when you lied and told him your period had come.

He doesn’t want this.

The thought makes your chest ache, the tears coming faster now. You know Tony. You know the walls he’s built around himself, the way he keeps people at arm’s length, even when he’s letting them into his bed. You know how hard he fights to keep control over his life, his world, his emotions.

A baby? That’s not part of his plan. Hell, you’re not even part of his plan. You’re supposed to be casual, no strings, no complications. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

And yet, here you are, clutching a pregnancy test and crying alone in the bathroom, trying to figure out how you’re supposed to navigate this new reality.

You can’t tell him. The thought hits you like a punch to the gut, but you know it’s true. You can’t tell Tony. Not now. Not when you can still see the relief in his eyes from the last time you reassured him that everything was fine.

He’ll leave. The thought makes your stomach twist painfully, but you can’t shake it. If you tell him, he’ll panic. He’ll shut down, pull away, and you’ll lose him completely. And as much as the idea of raising a child on your own terrifies you, the thought of losing Tony is worse.

So you don’t tell him.

You wipe your tears, setting the test on the counter with shaking hands. Your reflection in the mirror looks haunted, your eyes red and puffy, your cheeks streaked with tears. You take a deep breath, splashing cold water on your face in a futile attempt to calm yourself. You need to pull it together. You need to figure out what comes next.

But for now, all you can do is stand there, staring at your reflection, trying to reconcile the life you thought you had with the one that’s suddenly, irrevocably changed.

The door to the bedroom creaks open, and your heart leaps into your throat. You scramble to compose yourself, swiping at your eyes and plastering on a shaky smile just as Tony’s voice drifts into the bathroom.

“Hey, you alright in there?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with concern.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to sound normal. “Yeah,” you call back, your voice only wavering slightly. “Just… needed a minute.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he hums softly, like he’s satisfied with your answer. “Well, don’t take too long. I ordered breakfast, and you know how I feel about eating alone.”

You let out a weak laugh, your chest tightening at the sound of his voice. “Be right there.”

When you step out of the bathroom a few minutes later, your face freshly washed and your expression carefully neutral, Tony’s already sprawled on the bed with a plate of food balanced precariously on his lap. He grins when he sees you, patting the spot beside him like nothing’s changed.

And for now, you let yourself fall into the illusion of normalcy, even as the weight of your secret presses heavily against your chest.

The air between you and Tony shifts subtly at first—so small, so gradual, that neither of you comments on it. Nights that once burned hot now fizzle out before they even begin. The once-electric tension, the playful banter that led to tangled sheets and breathless laughter, is replaced by something colder. It’s you who pulls away first. At first, it’s subtle—an excuse here, a brush-off there. “I’m not in the mood tonight,” you say, avoiding his eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed, a little too far from him.

Tony lets it go. He always does.

He’s not the type to push, and you know he’s trying to respect your space. But as the days stretch into weeks, your distance becomes harder to ignore. Every time he reaches for you, his touch hesitant but hopeful, you step just a little further out of his reach. It’s not that you don’t want him—god, you want him more than ever. But every time he’s close, every time his lips brush against your skin or his voice drops into that low, teasing tone that always used to make you weak, you feel the weight of your secret pressing down on you like a stone.

You don’t know how to face him, how to look him in the eye without feeling like a liar. So you pull away.

Tony notices. Of course he notices.

At first, he thinks it’s stress. You’ve been juggling missions, the chaos of your lives, the constant push and pull of being in the public eye while trying to keep your relationship—whatever it is—a secret. Stress makes sense. It’s logical, explainable. But as time goes on, and your coldness toward him hardens into something sharper, something unrelenting, the doubts creep in.

It’s late one night, and Tony’s lying in bed alone, staring up at the ceiling as the soft glow of the arc reactor casts faint, shifting patterns on the walls. You’re not there. You’d excused yourself earlier, claiming you were tired, but instead of lying down beside him like you used to, you’d retreated to the living room.

He wants to follow you, to ask what’s wrong, to tell you he misses you even though he knows it’s not the kind of thing you say to someone who’s supposed to be a casual fling. But he doesn’t. He stays in bed, his chest tight, his mind spinning with every possible explanation for your sudden distance.

Maybe you’re over him. The thought sends a sharp pang through his chest, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on it. People lose interest all the time. It’s normal. Expected.

But then there’s another thought, one that he tries to push down but can’t quite ignore: Maybe there’s someone else.

He hates the idea of it. Hates the way his stomach twists every time it crosses his mind. But the way you’ve been avoiding him, the way you’ve stopped laughing at his jokes, stopped touching him, stopped letting him touch you—it all feels like proof that he’s losing you.

The thing is, Tony Stark isn’t good at feelings. He’s spent his whole life hiding behind sarcasm, distractions, and whatever shiny piece of tech he can throw together to keep people from seeing the cracks beneath the surface. But you? You’ve always been different. You’re the one person who makes him feel like he doesn’t have to pretend, like he doesn’t have to be “Iron Man” all the time.

And that scares him. Because if he loses you, he doesn’t know how to go back to the person he was before.

He tries to bridge the gap one night. It’s been weeks since you let him touch you the way he used to, weeks since the warmth of your body pressed against his in the dark. So he decides to take a chance.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice tentative as he steps into the living room where you’re curled up on the couch, your knees drawn to your chest.

You glance up at him, your expression guarded, and his chest tightens.

“Hey,” he continues, trying to keep his tone light, casual, like he’s not unraveling inside. “I was thinking we could—” He hesitates, the words catching in his throat. “You know. Watch a movie or something.”

You smile faintly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m not really in the mood, Tony.”

It’s the same excuse you’ve been giving him for weeks now, and it stings just as much as it did the first time. He nods, stepping back like he’s been burned.

“Right,” he says, his voice clipped. “Of course. You’re… busy.”

You feel the weight of his disappointment, and it makes your stomach twist with guilt. You want to reach out, to tell him the truth, but the words won’t come. You’re too scared—scared of what he’ll say, scared of what he won’t say.

Tony doesn’t press the issue. He never does. Instead, he retreats back to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. But you know him well enough to know he’s hurting. You’ve seen the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore, the way he avoids looking at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You hate it. You hate yourself for causing it.

But every time you think about telling him the truth, about letting him into the tangled mess of emotions you’re drowning in, the memory of his relief when he thought everything was fine stops you. You can’t bear the thought of seeing that same relief again, of watching him pull away from you because this—whatever this is—was never supposed to be more than just sex.

The problem is, it’s so much more for you. It always has been. And the thought of him not feeling the same way, of him walking away when he finds out about the baby, is enough to keep you silent.

So you stay distant, building walls around yourself even as your heart breaks every time you see him. And Tony, for all his brilliance, doesn’t know how to break through them.

It’s late when Tony finally breaks. The night air is cool, flowing in through the windows of the lab as he works, tinkering with something that doesn’t need fixing but still allows him to focus on something other than the gnawing feeling that’s been growing in his gut for the past few weeks.

He can’t ignore it any longer.

You’ve been so distant, so closed off. Every time he reaches for you, you pull away, your smile strained, your touch hesitant. He knows something’s wrong. You’ve been avoiding him—more than usual—and it’s like the light that once sparked in your eyes when you were around him has dimmed. You’re still there, physically, but emotionally? Mentally? He’s losing you, and he doesn’t know why.

At first, he thought it was just stress. You’ve both been running at full speed with everything going on in your lives—missions, the Avengers, the constant media circus that surrounds everything you do. But as the weeks have stretched on, and you’ve pulled further into yourself, Tony’s mind starts to wonder. He tries to brush it off, tries to tell himself that maybe you’re just going through something, or maybe you’ve just gotten tired of the arrangement you two have been navigating.

But that would mean he’s losing you, and the thought of that makes his chest ache.

He’s pacing now, a strange sense of urgency growing inside him. He can’t keep pretending everything’s fine. He can’t pretend he hasn’t noticed the way you flinch when he touches you, how you go out of your way to make excuses not to be close, to keep that emotional distance between you. It hurts. It cuts deeper than any physical wound he’s had, and if he doesn’t get to the bottom of it, he feels like he might lose himself entirely.

Without thinking, Tony heads toward the living room, his footsteps heavy as he approaches the place you’ve been hiding out in for the past hour. He’s not sure what he expects when he opens the door, but he knows he needs answers.

When you look up at him from the couch, curled up with a book in your hands, he sees it again—the sadness behind your eyes, the coldness in the way you hold yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve looked at him like that, and it hurts more than he’s willing to admit.

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice more strained than he meant it to be, “We need to talk.”

You blink at him, like you were expecting him to say something else, something easier to hear. But instead, you set the book down, letting out a long breath. “What about?”

Tony steps closer, his brow furrowed in frustration, eyes searching yours for any sign of the woman he once knew. “You’re not fine. I know you’re not. And I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay between us when it’s not.”

You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something, but the words die on your tongue. You’re not ready to tell him, not yet, but Tony’s insistent stare makes you feel like you don’t have a choice.

“Please, just tell me what’s going on. I—” He cuts himself off, not sure if he’s about to confess something he isn’t ready for. “I hate this distance between us. I hate how you’ve been avoiding me, and I’m not going to let you shut me out. Not when I know something’s wrong. So please, just tell me.”

You stand slowly, turning away from him, eyes cast down to the floor as you try to steady your breathing. You know you can’t keep this secret any longer. He deserves to know, but you’re terrified of his reaction. Terrified that he’ll leave, or worse, that he’ll shut you out just like you’ve been doing to him.

“I—” you start, your voice cracking slightly as you turn back to face him, your words hanging in the air like a fragile glass balloon ready to pop. “Tony, I’m… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, the room feels impossibly still. The sound of your heart pounding in your chest is louder than anything else. Tony’s face doesn’t change immediately, and for a second, you wonder if he’s even heard you. Maybe he didn’t catch it, didn’t really understand what you just said.

But then his eyes meet yours, and you can see the shock flicker across his face, his mouth opening as if he’s about to speak but nothing comes out.

The silence between you both stretches, and you hate it. You hate the tension that fills the space where once there was laughter, banter, comfort. You take a deep breath, the weight of your confession settling on your shoulders like an anchor, and you brace yourself for his response.

“I know you don’t want this,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I saw the way you reacted when I told you my period had come. You were relieved, and I know that means you don’t want a kid. And I—”

But Tony doesn’t let you finish. He’s already moved toward you, his expression softening, and before you even realize it, his hand is gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear you didn’t know had fallen.

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his voice quieter now, but his words are firm, like he’s trying to make you understand something important. “I wasn’t relieved because I didn’t want the baby. I was relieved because I remember you saying you didn’t want kids right now.” He lets out a shaky laugh, almost embarrassed by the way his own words feel in his mouth. “I guess I got scared for a second, thinking this was all happening too fast, but it wasn’t about not wanting a kid. It was about… us. About where we are in life. I wasn’t sure if you were ready for this, for everything that comes with it.”

You stare at him, blinking as the shock of his words sinks in. For a moment, all you can do is stand there, trying to process what he’s saying. He’s not angry. He’s not freaking out. He’s—he’s relieved? And then the smile that spreads across his face is one you’ve never seen before. It’s so full of hope, of joy, that it almost knocks the wind out of you.

“You’re happy?” you whisper, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound steady.

Tony’s grin widens, and his eyes are shining with something so genuine, so raw, that it’s impossible for you to look away. “You have no idea,” he says, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “I’ve wanted this. I’ve wanted to be a dad for a while now. I’m happy, Y/N. I’m so happy.”

The air between you both changes instantly. The heavy weight that’s been pressing down on your chest—your fear, your anxiety—lifts just a little. You feel like you can breathe again, the walls you’d built around yourself crumbling with every word he speaks.

You look up at him, your own smile breaking through the uncertainty, and before you can stop it, the words spill out. “I think I’m happy too, Tony.”

Tony’s expression softens, his eyes softening as he reaches for you, pulling you into an embrace so tight it almost feels like he’s never letting you go. You bury your face in his chest, your heart racing with a mix of emotions—relief, happiness, fear, but most of all, love.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “We’re doing this together. Okay?”

You nod against him, your arms wrapping around his waist as if you never want to let go. “Okay,” you whisper, a quiet laugh escaping you as the weight of the moment finally settles in. “Together.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe that no matter what comes next, you won’t be facing it alone.

Later that night, after the quiet joy of shared smiles and whispered promises had filled the room, the weight of the moment seemed to settle in more than ever. The excitement, the relief, the joy of the baby—all of that felt real now. But there was still one thing neither of you had addressed. The question that hung in the air just as heavily as it always had: What are we?

You weren’t sure when it started. When the blurred lines between “friends with benefits” and something more had begun to form, but you knew it was there now. It had always been there, from the moment his lips had first brushed against yours, from the first time you’d shared something deeper than just casual touch. The emotional attachment had crept in slowly, quietly, and for a long time, you had tried to ignore it.

But now, with a baby on the way and the delicate balance of your secret relationship on the verge of shifting, there was no denying it any longer.

Tony had been unusually quiet after the rush of emotions had faded, after you both had settled into your shared space on the couch, your legs tangled beneath a blanket. You’d both exchanged small touches, playful nudges, and soft words of reassurance, but as the night wore on, the air between you thickened again, and you both knew what was coming.

Tony wasn’t the type to shy away from hard conversations, especially not when it came to the things that mattered most to him. And now, with the future of your relationship hanging in the balance, he had to know: where do you two stand?

“Y/N,” he starts, breaking the comfortable silence that had wrapped itself around the two of you, his voice low, hesitant. “We need to talk about… us.”

You glance up at him, your heart picking up speed at the seriousness in his tone. He’s not looking at you now, not like before, when his eyes had been filled with a bright, carefree joy. No, now his gaze is intense, studying you in a way that makes you feel exposed. Vulnerable.

“I know,” you reply softly, the words almost a whisper, your fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket. You’re nervous now, your chest tight, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. After everything that’s happened, after the whirlwind of emotions surrounding the pregnancy, now comes the quiet storm that you’ve been avoiding. The talk about what your relationship is—what it could be.

Tony shifts, his body language tense. “We’ve been doing this for a while now—casual, no strings, no commitment. But now… this changes everything.” He lets out a breath, rubbing his hands over his face as if trying to wipe away the uncertainty. “I can’t help but wonder if we’ve been fooling ourselves, pretending we’re just two people with a little arrangement. I need to know if you feel the same way I do.”

Your stomach flips at the sincerity in his voice. The seriousness of it all hits you in a way you weren’t expecting. You’ve always been good at keeping things light, at pretending that this thing between you both was just about fun, just about the thrill of being together without the complications of a real relationship. But now, with the baby coming, everything has changed.

Tony continues, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know about you, but… I’m not just some guy you hook up with and then move on from. That’s not what I want anymore. I never thought I’d say this, but I—I want more than that with you. I think I’ve wanted more for a long time, even before we got here, and now… with the baby, I don’t know how to act like we’re just two friends. I can’t.”

You swallow, the knot in your throat tightening, making it harder to speak. You want to say the right thing, but you don’t even know what that is anymore. For so long, you’ve kept the walls up, kept yourself detached from him, from the idea of ever needing more than just him in your bed, in your life.

But now, after everything that’s happened—the broken condom, the shock of the pregnancy test, the tenderness of his touch, the way he looks at you now—you can’t pretend anymore. You know what you feel. You’ve known for a while.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice trembling. You can’t stop the truth from slipping out, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself be honest with him. “I’ve been so scared, Tony. I was scared to let myself feel more than just… this. I didn’t want to be vulnerable. I didn’t want to fall for you, but I did. And now, with this… I don’t know what that means for us.”

He leans in, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee, grounding you with the warmth of his touch. “It means we figure it out. Together.”

You meet his gaze then, really look at him, and for the first time since all of this started, you feel the fear melt away, replaced by something that feels like hope, like relief. Maybe it’s too soon to figure everything out—maybe the fear will still be there tomorrow, when you wake up and face the reality of being parents together. But right now, in this moment, you realize that whatever comes next, you’re not alone.

“I’ve never wanted anything more than this,” Tony murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want us, Y/N. I want this—whatever it is—if it’s with you.”

Tears well in your eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. “Are you sure? Because, Tony, this is… a lot. We’re talking about everything changing. Our whole lives—”

“I know,” he interrupts, cutting you off softly. “But that’s the thing, Y/N. It’s supposed to change. It’s supposed to be big. And it’s gonna be scary. But I’d rather be scared with you than pretend we’re okay with something less.”

You smile, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks, but they’re not tears of fear anymore. They’re tears of relief, of joy. “I feel the same,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want anything else either. I want us.”

The air shifts around you both. The weight of everything that’s been left unsaid, the uncertainty, the fear, all of it starts to dissipate in the wake of your words. In the silence that follows, there’s a quiet understanding that passes between you, something unspoken but deep. You’re not just two friends anymore. You’re something more. Something real. Something that might still be terrifying, but you’re willing to take that step together.

Tony leans in, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “We’re gonna figure this out, Y/N. We’ll do it together, okay? All of it. No more running from it. No more pretending.”

You nod, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the peace of knowing that he feels the same way. For the first time, you don’t feel the need to guard yourself, to hold back. Whatever happens next, you know you’ll face it with him by your side.

And for the first time in months, you allow yourself to feel the hope that the future might not be so terrifying after all.

“Together,” you whisper back, your voice full of resolve.

“Together,” Tony agrees, his smile softening as he leans back into the couch beside you. You both sit there for a long moment, the world outside forgotten, the future uncertain but no longer so intimidating. With each other, you feel ready for whatever comes next.

The decision to tell the Avengers comes surprisingly easy, though Tony initially overcomplicates it—as is his style. He drafts no fewer than six different ways to break the news, each one more elaborate than the last, from a staged press conference to a spontaneous "Oops, did we drop a clue?" moment during dinner. Ultimately, it’s you who insists on something simple: just sitting everyone down and saying it outright.

The team gathers in the common area after a particularly grueling mission briefing. Steve sits on one side, arms crossed in casual curiosity, while Natasha and Clint exchange knowing looks, as if they’ve already pieced together whatever you’re about to say. Thor leans back with an air of amused disinterest, and Bruce glances between you and Tony with a subtle frown, clearly trying to deduce what’s happening.

Tony clears his throat, standing with his hands shoved into his pockets—a nervous habit you’ve grown to recognize. You sit beside him, trying not to laugh at the way he fidgets like a kid preparing to confess he’s broken something.

“So,” Tony begins, his voice smooth but a little too loud, “we’ve got some news. Something big, something life-altering. Not world-ending, don’t worry—though it is arguably more exciting than an alien invasion or a helicarrier falling out of the sky.”

“Get to the point,” Natasha cuts in, raising an eyebrow, though her smirk betrays her amusement.

Tony glances at you, and you take his hand, offering him a reassuring squeeze. You look at the group, your heart racing but a soft smile playing on your lips. “We’re together,” you say simply, “and… we’re having a baby.”

The room falls silent for a beat, and then chaos ensues.

Clint immediately lets out a loud, theatrical “Called it!” while Thor booms a congratulatory cheer, clapping Tony on the back so hard he almost topples forward. Natasha simply smirks, her sharp eyes flickering with something close to approval. Steve blinks once, then twice, before nodding with a small smile. “Well,” he says, “it’s about time.”

Bruce, for his part, is the most measured. “Congratulations,” he says warmly, his expression soft as he looks between the two of you. “That’s… big news. You’ll both be great parents.”

Tony, who thrives on reactions, looks around at the mix of responses, a crooked grin spreading across his face. “Wait, that’s it? No one’s shocked? No dramatic gasps? No ‘Tony Stark, settling down, what has the world come to?’”

Natasha tilts her head. “We’re not blind, Tony.”

“And you’re not exactly subtle,” Clint adds with a laugh. “The sneaking around was cute at first, but come on. The looks? The way you guys act around each other? It was only a matter of time.”

You laugh, leaning into Tony’s side as he rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t care if they saw it coming—he only cares that you’re here, by his side, sharing this moment with him.

As the weeks pass and your belly starts to grow, Tony’s excitement becomes something of a full-time personality trait. He’s protective in a way that sometimes makes you laugh and sometimes makes you roll your eyes—like when he insists on scanning the ingredients of every snack you eat or hovering too closely while you climb the stairs.

“Tony, I’m pregnant, not fragile,” you remind him one evening when he’s fussing over your attempt to carry a laundry basket up from the bedroom.

“Yeah, well, you’re carrying my kid,” he retorts, taking the basket from your hands with a flourish. “And I’m not taking any chances.”

But it’s not just the protectiveness. There’s something else, something deeper. Every day, he seems more in love—not just with you, but with the idea of the life you’re building together. He tells you often how beautiful you are, how the so-called “pregnancy glow” makes you shine brighter than any reactor core he’s ever built. And when he’s not busy marveling at you, he’s completely, utterly enchanted by the baby growing inside you.

Tony spends hours talking to your belly, as if the baby can already hear and understand him. He lays his head against your stomach whenever he can, his voice soft and full of wonder as he murmurs stories about the world, about your life together, about the adventures waiting for the little one.

“You know,” he says one evening, his hand resting gently on your belly as he leans in close, “you’ve got it pretty good in there, kid. Mom’s amazing. She’s brilliant, and funny, and stubborn as hell—you’ll learn that soon enough. And me? Well, I’m not so bad either. We’re gonna be a great team, the three of us.”

You watch him, your heart swelling at the sight of the man who, not so long ago, had been the epitome of carefree, refusing to be tied down. Now, he’s the man who can’t wait to be a dad, who looks at you like you’re his entire world.

“I think they’ll be lucky to have you,” you say softly, running your fingers through his hair as he continues to talk to your belly.

Tony looks up at you, his expression tender. “Nah,” he replies, his voice teasing but warm. “They’ll be lucky to have you. I’m just along for the ride.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss him, and he smiles against your lips, his hand never leaving your belly. Moments like this are becoming your new normal—quiet, intimate, filled with the kind of love that feels like it’s been there all along, waiting for the right time to bloom.

As the baby kicks for the first time a few weeks later, Tony’s excitement is nothing short of infectious. He whoops loudly, startling you for a moment before his hand immediately presses against your stomach again, his grin wide and boyish.

“Did you feel that?” he exclaims, his eyes lighting up as he looks at you.

You nod, tears springing to your eyes as you smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, your hand covering his. “I felt it.”

“That’s my kid,” he says proudly, leaning down to kiss your belly. “Already making an entrance.”

You can’t help but laugh, your heart full to bursting. In moments like this, it’s hard to remember why you ever doubted this—why you ever doubted him. Tony Stark, for all his flaws, is everything you never knew you needed. And now, as you prepare to welcome the biggest adventure of your lives together, you know one thing for sure: you’re in this together, every step of the way.

[rayroseu]

Lilia's proposal is so meaningful now knowing the depths of how the Senate controls the Draconias 😭

From their job, the way they dress (only black clothes as its fitting for a royal), their personality (must be noble and dignified), what place they go to, who are they friends with, and even who they love and marry too... as stated by Lilia that Meleanor used to have arranged marriage (highly likely its because of the Senate wanting to make political gains from another dragon nation by marrying Meleanor to them😔)

Mind you that this is a memory when Lilia and Meleanor was still kids.... meaning the Senate already was profiting off Meleanor by putting her in an arranged marriage 😭💔

I feel like Meleanor was so upset by this arranged marriage and how controlling the castle is, thats why she's such a troublemaker... Perhaps thats just her acting like a child but the Senate keeps her on a leash to act more dignified rather than a "tomboy"-

So, I really think that Lilia's proposal, his love confession to her when they were children must've been a precious memory for Meleanor...🥲💕

Dragons don't like distant love, like how Malleus rejects Maleficia's magic because she never visits Malleus... And distant "love" is usually what happens in arranged marriages

"One shouldn't take lightly of their vows of love to someone" (Suitor Lilia).... Imagine how Meleanor probably felt so happy that a person proposed to her purely because of LOVE and not because the Senate told them so 😭‼️

Even if she's teasing here, the fact that Meleanor remembers the proposal even 200 years, she took that seriously argh... 😭💕‼️

Perhaps because of Lilia's proposal that Meleanor finally stopped being in a arranged marriage???😭😭

Like I'm imagining what happened was that Little Meleanor told Mother Maleficia that's she's married now!! to a fae in Briar Land!! so she doesn't need to be married off in a faraway land now 😭🥲💔

Like She's married to Lilia Vanrouge! My future Right General... 🥲💕💖💕

"I never loved anyone...!" "But you love me and my husband and someday you'll love our child too-" 😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔 IM THEMM....

(god i wish they reveal levan now i want him to simmer with my lilinor thoughts... 😭)

[tyudearyous]

pride and prejudice - j.yh

pairing : jeong yunho x (f) reader

very much inspired by pride and prejudice with some plot changes

word count : 5.8k

genre : fluff, angst

author's note : THIS IS ALL FOR MY MUTUAL WHO PROPOSED THE IDEA OF YUNHO BEING LIKE DARCY. THIS IS FOR YOU!

masterlist

...

living as a fallen royal has not served you any happiness. in fact, it has only brought sorrows after sorrows, one you were overwhelmed with. but none of those sorrows would ever be lifted off you, not until you die, you suppose. why is that? because you were the eldest daughter out of the five, the only anchor in your already broken family. the only sane person between your reputation crazed parents.

“mother!” you grabbed your mother’s arms to make her face you. disgust filled your face and you couldn’t even process what just happened.

it was three days after your sister’s seventeenth birthday, she was the second born and she was three years younger than you. however, your parents had the audacity to go and basically wed her off to a nobleman in efforts to dignify the family’s name.

“mother! she’s just seventeen. what are you thinking!?” you screamed slightly making everyone in the house notice. “you. have no rights to say anything towards me young lady.” your mother pointed to you with seething anger on her face. her behavior only baffled you even further. “must you go through these lengths? she is just seventeen mother! she still has her lif-” “exactly. she is seventeen, a marriable age. unlike you, twenty yet unwed. it is embarrassing enough for me to have an unwed daughter like you” you were speechless. there was no way your mother just said that in front of you and left. just as you were about to catch up to her, you were held back by your sister.

“angela, we can talk after this okay” you try to make her let go of your arm but she was persistent. “sister, i am fine with this” her eyes gazed straight at you with her desperately trying to hold you. “no, you still have so much to see and learn. it is not your duty to marry, i will find a way for you alright?” you grazed her cheeks slightly to reassure her. “no, i wish for this. it is the only way our family can be stable again. i am fine with this sacrifice. no, i even heard that he is a good guy, so fret not my sister. fret not, alright?” she leans onto your embrace making you hug her. this whole ordeal is breaking your heart. was it your fault? why was the universe so cruel?

…

“my daughter angela, a carriage will come over to pick you up today at noon and i want you to go with her as well, y/n” your father said on the dining table. your appetite immediately gone and your face soured. “listen, y/n. i am not pressuring you what so ever. however, you are twenty this year darling. soon you would be past the marriable age and it would not be good for you” your father held your hands but none of his words felt like a concern for you, instead it all just feels like salt to an injury. “alright, i will prepare myself then” you immediately stood up from the dining table to go to your room.

“oh? have you finished getting ready?” you asked your sister who was sitting on her bed next to yours. “yep, you are coming with me right?” she asked you in which you nodded. she was wearing her favorite pink gown adorned decorations that made her beauty unmatchable. you had to admit, out of the five sisters she was the prettiest. it was as if a white rose suddenly appeared in a garden of red roses, that was how she was.

“you look great, i’m sure he would fall in love with you as soon as he saw you” you smiled to her widely before getting ready yourself. you opted to wear a rather normal gown in the shade of jade. you didn’t want to overdress your sister, nor did you want attention on you.

love has always been a difficult topic for you. you didn’t want to sell out your future to a man in the name of marriage and also, woman generally wasn’t given any freedom post marriage. you had to either be an obedient doll for your husband or you’d be divorced and thrown away in a second. it was either in between and that is why, love scared you.

but either way, it was your mission to at least be a good companion for your sister. to cover up all the ugly side behind her and your family, to be a good guardian for her.

soon, the carriage bell rang. notifying its’ presence and urging you both to go inside. your sister excitedly runs down the house and bid goodbyes to your parents who were waiting out the door.

“take care of her okay?” your father bid goodbyes to you by squeezing your hands while your mother only looked at you. “i will, goodbye” and with that, the two of you were in the carriage off to the Northwestern Palace where her future husband is waiting for her.

“sister?” your sister called out to you, breaking you out of your daze. “yes, my angel?” you scurried to sit next to her and held her hands. “i am scared” your sister starts to tear up. “darling, it’ll be alright. it’ll be alright.” you brought her in to hug and comfort her. just why, why would an innocent soul like her have to go through all this.

…

“ladies, we have arrived at the Northwestern Palace” the coachman knocks on the carriage door before swiftly opening it, making a way for you and your sister to exit the carriage. the whole ride was pretty serene. nothing much happened, except for the fact that your sister felt worried about the whole meeting. it was inevitable, love is scary. however she immediately recollected herself and is back to the usual happy go lucky sister you have.

after a small walk, a luxurious white pavilion is visible where two (seemingly) esteemed gentleman were sitting. the two then stood up noticing your presence before bowing to greet the two of you. you also curtsied to greet them together with your sister before walking even closer to the pavilion.

“greetings, i am y/n from the house of brigitte and this is s/n. very delighted to make your acquaintance” you and your sister curtsied to greet the two men in front of you. “oh yes, i am san from the house of choi and this is my companion, yunho from the house of jeong. thrilled to make acquaintance with you both as well.” he greeted you cheerfully before ushering you to take a seat on the table in the pavilion.

for a second, you felt small. this whole place, the pavilion, the table, their presence, all felt overwhelming. if it weren’t for your sister who was chatting delightfully with san, you think you’d suffocate from stress.

while san and your sister chatted well together, you decided to talk to yunho for a little bit. “um, so how did you get acquainted with mr. choi?” you ask while taking a sip of your tea. “i’m sorry but is that your business?” he responded coldly. you were frozen for a second, unable to react. “oh, i apologize, my curiosity got the better off me” you laughed it off before taking another sip. it was clear enough, this guy in front of you has zero interest in forming acquaintances with you. it was fine, as long as your sister was happy it was fine. soon the afternoon went by a flash. it was an enjoyable experience for your sister, it was all that matters.

…

“how was it?” your vivacious mother asked your sister once you arrived back home. “it was great, mother. he was a gentleman, anything i could ask for” she replied, making your parents exhale a big sigh of relief. they seemed so happy, and you were too but there was a hint of bittersweetness in your heart. after all, you were the disappointment for them and did you even have the right to be happy? but you digress. “i will be off to my room now, if you need anything just call me” and with that you went upstairs to your room.

“sister!” your youngest sister came up to you. “hi sweetheart, what’s wrong?” you crouched down to ruffle her hair slightly. “is it true? sister angela is getting married?” she asked you and you nodded. “yes, angela has met her prince charming you know?” you smiled to her. “but what about you? have you not met him?” you froze slightly before shaking your head. “it’s late already, let me tuck you into bed okay sweetheart?” you ushered her to go back to her room to rest up. you just didn’t want to answer much because it’s all too conflicting for you. it’s all too much for you. even so, you did wish to meet your prince charming, you wished but it was just a mere wish. a mere wish that has very low chances of getting granted.

…

“y/n! prepare the guest room please!” your mother called out to you in the middle of the morning. you were confused, why would they need the guest room ready, for who? and why is she asking that of you this early? “mother, who is coming?” you asked as you went down the stairs. “it is your father’s colleague. he is coming over with his son” she explained to you. “and who exactly?” you asked while you start to dust off the room. “the house of park” oh, it was seonghwa. he was once deeply infatuated with your sister, so obviously you knew him. he wasn’t a bad guy, per se. however, you just don’t feel good about him sometimes.

as you were cleaning, the day started to go by and it was now afternoon when the esteemed guests came by. your parents greeted them with extreme joy and they also greeted everyone back. you led them to the guest room where your parents and them chatted off. you stayed at the door, tending to their drinks and snacks when seonghwa snuck up on you.

“um, so, where’s angela?” he asked. “oh, she’s going to come down soon” you replied before he went back to his seat. sure enough, your sister soon came down and it was as if seonghwa just saw an angel. his eyes immediately lit up and a big smile adorned his face.

“so, mr and mrs brigitte. the purpose of our visit today is actually because we want-” “no father, i will say it myself” seonghwa cut his father off before clearing his throat. “miss angela brigitte, i have taken a great liking towards you ever since the first day we met. will you do me the honor of being my wife?” seonghwa knelt down in front of angela and took her hands to kiss it slightly.

“i must apologize” angela took her hands off seonghwa’s. “i am already engaged to mr. san from the house of choi” and the entire room fell into a tense mood. seonghwa quickly reassured angela that it was alright and your parents ushered you and angela out of the room to not make the room even more tense. thus, you brought angela back to your shared room where she cried.

“i feel like a horrendous person. i feel bad” angela cried out to your shoulder. “shush baby, it’s alright. i am sure he would understand alright” you comforted angela throughout the night but unbeknownst to you, the park family and yours agreed on an alternative. an alternative you wouldn’t even want.

…

somehow seonghwa kept going to your house, despite getting rejected by angela. you were confused on why he was doing all this. on an instance even, he brought you to meet one of his longtime friends, hongjoong from the house of kim. it was all confusing but creating relations wasn’t something you were against.

“i heard you are acquaintances with san from the house of choi?” hongjoong asked. “yes, he is about to be wedded to my sister after all” you replied with a smile. “then, may i assume you are also acquainted with jeong yunho?” your eyes shot up and you froze slightly. “not exactly, why?” you asked. “i should warn you about him. he is not a good man. the kim family has been the greatest supporter the jeong family could ever ask but what did that guy do? deny us from our rights” hongjoong took a sip of his tea angrily. “hongjoong, let’s not-” “no seonghwa! i am merely stating facts. i had to work like a dog to save my family from bankruptcy when we were exiled” hongjoong explained further. “why were you exiled?” you asked. “because we didn’t have one vision thats all. either way, be careful of him”

you weren’t the type to trust someone immediately. after all you were a big skeptic, however because seonghwa trusts hongjoong so much, you just couldn’t help but feel a slight empathy. how could someone pay literal dust to someone who has been loyal, and even if there were differences of views, shouldn’t it be talked over? you didn’t want to involve yourself though so you just decided to stay neutral. one thing is for sure, jeong yunho did not seem like a good guy at all.

…

it was the night of the ball in the Northwestern Palace and sure enough, you had to dance with the man himself, jeong yunho. you didn’t hate him but that did not mean you liked him. he has been nothing but rude to you ever since the first meet. however, you cannot deny. he is a great dancer.

“i am surprised you are good at this” you said in attempt for a small talk. “it is merely the basics my lady” he said as he let you go to twirl and held you by your waist again. “sure, basics” and you both danced until the music ends. what you didn’t expect was for him to initiate a small talk.

“would you like to take some time in the garden?” yunho asked as he took a sip from the glass of champagne he was holding. “sure” and with that the two of you went down to go to the garden. this did not go unnoticed by san and angela. “look, your sister” san pointed towards your direction to your sister. “let them be, let’s just hope for the best” she laughed before resuming to their own conversation.

“i did not strike you as someone who would ask a lady” you joked. “i am merely doing this as an apology for last time” yunho waited in front of the stairs, offering his hand for you to take while you go down the stairs. “thank you” you said before he led you to the garden of the palace.

“so, what did you want to talk about?” you asked him as you took a seat on bench nearby. “i was wondering on a few things actually” he sat next to you.

“how are you alright with your sister overstepping you?”

“in marriage?”

“yes”

you sighed and stayed quiet for a moment. of course people would ask that. of course it would be a topic in your conversation. after all, people deemed it to be rude but you couldn’t care less.

“perhaps i just do not care? all i ever wanted was happiness for my sisters and it is not her fault for finding love before me. and if you ask me how did it came to this, i also don’t know. perhaps it’s just the universe’s will? either way, i don’t have a problem with that”

“i have heard that you rejected several marriage offers”

“yes, just one though to be exact. i do not find myself ready when i got that offer. i was still sixteen after all. now that i am twenty, i couldn’t thank my sixteen year old self more than anything”

“and why is that?”

“because i got to experience life. if i got married, i wouldn’t be able to do that”

“how? you still have your life even after you marry? it is not the end of the world”

“to you yes, to me no. i would have to be entangled with housework, wifely duties, and when i have a child as well, i can’t do anything freely. i am not saying i don’t want to get married but i still find it to be not something i highly desire.”

“let’s say, someone proposes to you today. will you accept it?”

“i do not know. if i could see myself loving that person, perhaps i would but if i couldn’t i think i would reject it once again”

yunho nodded understandingly. turns out, he wasn’t too bad. he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was. he was a good listener and also a very logical person. the conversation actually went well because he was actually a good conversationist. perhaps this person wasn’t that bad but you digress.

…

it was as if the universe was playing a joke to you, seonghwa decided to propose to you in exchange for not getting angela. of course you rejected it. how could you be used a replacement? it was a disgraceful move on its own. you were even more flabbergasted when you knew it was your parent’s idea. what the actual hell are they thinking?

“do you perhaps not possess a brain to think?” you angrily opened the door to their bedroom

“honey, what is this behavior!” your mother shouted

“what is this behavior? you have the audacity to ask me that? am i an easy thing to use as a replacement for my sister? are you planning to sell me out?”

“y/n please calm down”

“y/n! we are doing this for your greater good. what future lies beyond you if you refuse him. we are doing this because we love you. we are doing this because we wish for what's good for you”

"but that is not how you do it!" you screamed into the room

you couldn’t even talk anymore. you felt so incredibly betrayed. how could they treat you like this? how could they treat you this horrible? you knew they were slightly insane after they lost their estate to debt but this was beyond your limit. your entire dignity crushed into pieces, ground up to the floor and thrown away six feet under the ground. it was shit, completely shit.

“my daughter, can we talk?” your father came over to the dining room where you were crying profusely. “what more do you want? do you not understand how that made me look? i look like an easy woman, father. i look like an easy shit to trampled upon” he shushed you before bringing you to a hug to comfort you. he didn’t say anything, perhaps too guilty to even say anything. at least he knows his mistake.

…

it has been several months since everything happened. you decided to do things like how you are used to. forgive and move on. seonghwa even got married already because one of your friend was scared she’d become a spinster. you apologized to seonghwa and seonghwa thankfully was a good man. he understood your rejection and reaction, he understood everything.

however, angela’s relationship with san was something else. choi san was a busy man and it was a given he wouldn’t have much time. but if he was determined, he could at least spare just a few minutes with angela but that never happened. so when his party left for a neighboring country, you told angela to go to your relative’s house since they live in that neigboring country and she did.

now, with nothing to do on hand, you decided to visit seonghwa and your friend. after all, there was nothing wrong with a small catch up session between friends. it was quite a long walk but not one you’d complain about and when you arrived, it was a small yet comfortable bungalow they are living in. very suited to seonghwa’s love for simplicity.

they invited you for dinner and you chatted away quite happily until seonghwa brought up something he heard a few days ago during a party.

“i do not know if this is for sure or not but i heard yunho has been trying to separate san and your sister because your family is “unsuitable” for the chois”

“what?” you were confused.

“who said that?”

“colonel song, a close friend of his”

oh. that was the nail to the coffin you suppose.

…

after hearing what seonghwa said, you immediately took the train to go to the neighboring country to meet your sister. you went there not to meet your sister, but to meet jeong yunho instead. once you arrived, you immediately went to the jeong estate. it was raining but you couldn’t care less. but as you were on your way, you spotted him near his estate.

“miss y/n, it has been a while. i have been looking for you”

“good you’re here. wait, pardon?”

“i have been searching for you ever since i knew of angela’s presence here in this country”

“why? for what exactly?”

“i have thought about this day and night.”

yunho cleared his throat before continuing.

“in vain i have struggled, and it just will never do. my feelings have gotten to my better judgement. allow me to tell you how ardently i admire you”

“i don’t understand”

“i love you. will you please do me the honor to be mine?”

“no. i cannot”

you were beyond confused. this man separated your sister, deeming your family unfit for his standards and besides the garden conversation, he never paid any attention towards you. so what is this sudden confession.

“didn’t you say my family is unsuitable? so why are you acting like this?”

“i cannot care less. i cannot care less about statuses right now”

“so why did you separate angela and san?”

“didn’t miss angela not want it? she was being very passive and i did not want san to get heartbroken any further”

“you have no rights to do that! and no. angela loved him. the reason why she is even here is because of choi san. you have no rights to do that, mr. jeong”

“i apologize”

“is that all you could think of?’

“what more do you ask from me?”

“i don’t know. i just cannot accept it. you have always acted so cold towards me and now suddenly you’re professing your love towards me? mr. jeong, respectfully, that is not the way to get a woman’s heart. in fact that is a way to drive a woman away”

“for ever since i was born, i was raised to be indifferent. i have always been indifferent but this. this is the first time where i let all my logics out the window. this is the first time i had ever let my feelings control me, my lady. i am not asking for much.”

“right, you are an indifferent individual. then care to explain your decisions regarding the kim family?”

“what sort of decisions?”

“i don’t know, you were the one making it. why would you do that to a family that has been nothing but loyal to you, mr. jeong?”

“i am afraid you do not know anything, miss brigitte”

“oh? so i don’t know enough do i?”

“the kim family embezzled the jeongs. do you know that?”

“what?”

“miss, i did not take you for someone who blatantly believes lies. however, i do hope you would think twice before believing someone and i believe that this proposal has not come to a good ending thus i will leave now. i have gotten a carriage ready for you. my feelings have not changed at all, however i think that you might need some time, so i am granting you that time”

oh, you did a big mistake didn’t you?

…

“y/n, a letter has come for you!” your sister screamed. “angela it’s 9 PM, who would even-” you recognized that seal. that seal is not from a mere family, it was the seal of the jeongs. “when did this arrive?” you asked angela after taking the letter from her hands. “a guard sent it just now, is it from the-” “i will be in my room, alright?” you scurried to go inside of your room and quickly took your letter knife to open the letter.

to miss y/n of house brigitte i am writing,

i apologize for the disturbance as it is very late right now. however, my heart is at unrest.

i do not know where or who told you regarding what happened to the kim family however, i do hope that you would trust me more than them.

the kim family followed the jeong from the start, however the last generation of the kims has been nothing but a problem for the jeongs.

they have embezzled us out of our own mines, land, field, and everything.

as the current head of the family, i had to do what was necessary and that is to protect my own family. it was not an easy decision but ultimately, i had to exile them.

they have been getting support from the parks now, which i am grateful for.

i do hope you will stop seeing me as a horrible man, for i am serious about my feelings for you, lady brigitte.

i am sorry for the lengthy disturbance but i hope this clears out the misunderstanding between us.

good night, may you have sweet dreams.

signed, jeong yunho

…

it has been two weeks since you and your sister went to your nephew’s house and it is now time for you both to set home. this time though, your relatives are the one visiting your country. however what you didn’t expect is for you to run into yunho out in the wild.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, confused. “i was just having my stroll, greetings i am yunho from the house of jeong” he introduced himself to your relatives. “ah yes, the esteemed jeongs. we are the gardleys from the south” your uncle and aunt bowed to greet yunho which he returned in another bow. somehow, you and your party ended up in the Westnostern Palace which is a closed off territory of the jeongs. yunho offered a brunch for you and your relatives, this was out of nowhere.

it was truly a brunch for the royals. the meals served were meals only high status-ed families would eat. you were grateful but all of this felt like it came out of nowhere. perhaps this was his way of trying to win your heart and you couldn’t help but smile at it. while your relatives and yunho were chatting away, you excused yourself to go to the washroom when in reality, you wanted to take a stroll around the palace. that was when an elderly lady suddenly came up to you and struck a chat with you.

“oh my, you must be the miss brigitte everyone here is talking about!”

“pardon?”

“oh silly old me, i am margareth”

“oh, yes. i am y/n from the house of brigitte. it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance”

“yes, our little yunho has been talking about you” she said while laughing slightly. you were frozen, what is that even supposed to mean?

“talking about me?”

“oh yes, he has been going around the estate asking for advices on you know” she nudges your shoulders slightly. you didn’t know how to reply so you just laughed along.

“either way, i am glad” you stayed quiet, to listen to her.

“i am glad he has finally found love. he has been keeping his heart at such guard to the point even i, as his former caretaker, was very worried.” she continued before she held your hands gently.

“child, i know love might be scary for you but trust me. yunho is a good person, he is just a little rough at first. child, he can bring you the happiness you’ve desired since forever. i hope you can be happy with him” words could not leave your mouth, you only stared at her while she smiled at you.

“granny margareth!” you snapped out of your daze after hearing yunho’s voice.

“oh-ho, that is my cue to go now. i wish you the best of luck, child!” she said before leaving, giving you time with yunho.

he soon joined you to gaze upon the garden of the palace and stood next to you. yunho cleared his throat, making you gaze at him.

“have you finished chatting with my relatives?” you opened the conversation.

“ah yes, they were very enthusiastic people. i had a great time” his sudden soft demeanor makes you want to laugh honestly. it wasn’t a bad thing, just very out of character for him.

“i see” you replied but you couldn’t hold back your giggles

“pardon?”

“oh, no. it’s just funny to me”

“what’s funny?”

“you, right now.”

“right, i must look like a lovesick fool”

yunho admitting it himself just feels way too funny for you, causing you to go on a fit of laughter. he only stared at you, with a slight smile. taking in how he made you laugh, how your smile completely lit up his whole world. oh, he was so in love.

“lovesick fool, oh dear. i’m sorry” you try to regain your composure.

“no it’s alright, i like watching you smile” he replied. you only raised your eyebrows before one of his guard men called out to him, informing him that your relatives had finished touring the palace with his butler.

“let’s go back shall we?” he offered his hand to guide you, in which you accepted this time.

yunho isn’t as bad as you thought.

…

as if the universe is finally giving you a break, san came by the brigitte’s estate to propose to angela. you also soon found that yunho helped san get the permission of the choi family. he persuaded them to let him marry angela despite your family being inferior compared to the chois. yunho was such an enigma to you. however not one you hated, in fact one you’d love to figure out. his entire demeanor and how it changed almost in one night. how he suddenly became this soft and kind individual despite his reputations being the absolute opposite of that.

thus when he visited your estate, you couldn’t help but welcome him with open arms for what he has done for your sister.

“greetings, um” yunho stuttered slightly. he was visibly nervous and he didn’t know how to properly act this time. you couldn’t help but smile endearingly at him.

“greetings, mr. jeong. how can i possibly help you?”

“may i invite you to go on a walk with me, perhaps?”

“sure.”

…

yunho never struck you as a big romanticist. however, all of his actions recently show otherwise. this guy was a big romanticist. he is definitely a firm believer of soulmates and it is adorable. beyond the cold expression he wears, the fancy suits and coats that make him unapproachable, he is just a plain guy who loves hard.

you both strolled around the Northwestern Palace, the place you first met each other. though the first encounter was rather lukewarm, your current relationship was much better than that. when you reached at the end of the palace’s park, a glistening lake could be seen. the atmosphere was incredibly soothing and heartwarming. seeing swans nurturing each other, you couldn’t help but smile while gazing at the scenery.

“so, um. miss y/n” yunho cleared his throat.

“yes?”

“i would like to take upon this chance, to… try once again” oh, so that was what he was after.

“miss y/n of house brigitte. i, jeong yunho, have simply fallen for you. i cannot contain these feelings within me anymore. i apologize if i have ever made your heart hurt from before, however i can promise you one thing. i will devote myself to keeping that smile on your face. i will make sure your days ahead are nothing short of happiness. miss y/n, would you do me the favor of letting myself become yours?” he knelt down in front of you with a small box on his hands. it was a ring, he was proposing you. you have been in this situation several times, but none have made you this glad to receive one.

“yes, i would” you replied. this time, it was different. perhaps it was yunho’s magic finally working on you, but you couldn’t be more glad that it was him.

he quickly smiled and slipped the ring into your finger then he lifted you up in an embrace. “hey!” you laughed. “thank you” yunho gazed straight at you before pulling you in for a kiss, your first kiss.

finally, love found you.

…

“y/n, are you serious about this?” your father asked you. he had received a formal letter from the jeongs, inquiring him about their plans to officially propose you.

“yes father, look” you showed off your ring finger, now adorned with a ring that had a small aquamarine gem.

“did you not dislike him before?” your father asked you once again. he was well aware about how you felt regarding yunho since the first.

“yes but those feelings have changed. father, are you questioning my decisions now?” you replied with a grin on your face. this made your father give up and accepted the situation.

“i am glad you finally found the one” your father got up from his seat to hug you and you hugged him back.

…

“From the very beginning— from the first moment, I may almost say— of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”

―

Jane Austen,

Pride and Prejudice

…

the end.

[adokyoguen]

Can you write a fic where Muzan sees the reincarnation of his late wife who he married when he was a human.

★۰ ໋࣭ muzan x reader.

omg I really liked this request so much that I wanted to do two parts, lol

this will be before Muzan finds the reincarnation of his late wife okay? I hope you like it and I'll be posting the second part soon :)

note: any grammatical errors made, please ignore. English is not my first language so I ask for patience :((

Muzan was never affectionate, at least the upper moons never noticed a feeling of empathy or an ounce of happiness in muzan. Everyone described him as spiteful and insensitive, he sees no value in humans. To his subordinates... he never showed respect.

But what no one knew was that a long time ago, Muzan actually had a family, he didn't have children, but Muzan has a wife, or rather, he did. She died a long time ago, he didn't even remember her face anymore, like, it was more than a thousand years alive as a demon... how could he remember? But he remembered all the effort she had put into giving her husband as much comfort as possible. Muzan was currently in the Infinity Castle, testing some experiments, but it seemed like something was wrong, the man felt something draining his energy. Even if it was 0.1%, he could feel it.

Was this some effect of the experiment? No... Muzan knew very well what he was messing with, and no side effects involved mental fatigue, especially from the first Oni that existed. Maybe it was his intrusive thoughts about humans that ended up leading him to you. He really hated humans, he wouldn't hesitate in the slightest to take one's life, but with you... was it different?

When he turned into an oni, you were there, in fact neither of you two understood very well what had happened to Muzan, but you never treated him with indifference... you had a pure heart, too pure to live in this world cruel, too pure to be rotten.

On the one hand, he would have immensely wished that it had been him who had killed you, it would have been much more dignified than a simple death from natural causes, at least for you. It's ironic to say that Muzan fell in love with you precisely because of your pure heart, since the man was totally the opposite. Even if you were here, Muzan wouldn't be the same caring husband he was years ago, but deep down, he would know that you would never give up on him.

Muzan sat on the chair, trying to clear his mind to return to the experiment, he cursed you deeply for appearing in his thoughts just when he was busy with something that could revolutionize the lives of oni's.

But then... there you were.

Muzan raised his head after feeling a presence in the same room as him, the man knew that Nakime wouldn't put anyone in the infinite castle if it weren't for Muzan's own request, so why is he feeling watched?

The answer was you.

For some reason that even he couldn't describe, you were there, exactly as you were buried, for a split second, he might have thought he was going crazy, but he didn't want to think about it. Muzan got up from the chair and approached his late wife, you looked so... cold. He didn't show any hint of emotion in his eyes when he raised his hand to touch your cheek, that touch wasn't a form of affection, it was just a test to see if he could feel your skin.

And the answer was no, the hand instantly passed across her figure. How were you here? Had he cursed his soul or something? Haven't you rested in peace all these years?

— Y/N?— Muzan calls you, hoping that you could respond.

Hope, this word is something he hasn't had for many years, of course his greatest hope was the blue Spider Lily Flower, but he never felt hope in the human race. But well... you're not human anymore, so he didn't care about his momentary weakness.He watched her hand come up and land on his hand, which was flying across his cheek. Muzan felt his senses scramble when you gave him a smile, that smile he thought he would never see again.

Muzan never left his cold expression, after years of being an oni and killing people... he no longer felt anything inside him, and at that moment, it was the same. His thoughts were interrupted with smoke filling the place, Muzan hurried to move the container that was causing this away from his table, so that the smoke would stop.

His gaze turned to you, but you weren't there. The man looked at the room he was in, looking for any sign of his presence, even though he felt that there was no one else with him. Muzan sat in his chair again, looking at the blueprint he was studying on his desk.

Brugmansia suaveolens of course... how did he not think of that before? The man took his notebook from the table, where he had notes about the variations of plants on the planet.

Brugmansia is a genus of seven species of flowering plants in the nightshade family Solanaceae. They are woody trees or shrubs, with pendulous flowers, and have no spines on their fruit. Their large, fragrant flowers give them their common name of angel's trumpets, adjacent to the nickname devil's trumpets of the closely related genus Datura.

Side effects of Brugmansia include nausea, vomiting, dry eyes, increased heart rate, dizziness and visual hallucination.

[alta1red]

EDEN. | 𝑰𝑴𝑨𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑬 II. Your very presence,

𝑺𝒀𝑷𝑵𝑶𝑺𝑰𝑺 : THE HAZBIN HOTEL CAST AND THEIR OPINION OF YOU.

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : ( None that I'm aware of, although do inform me if I missed something ! )

𝑷𝑻 : II

♪

" Well.. Uh, Eden ! I can happily say you've got the job ! " Charlie happily announced, seemingly overflowing with excitement, observing the pep in her step as she walked towards you —she took your hands in hers as she shook it with vigorous energy.

" I'm so happy you joined us, here at Hazbin Hotel ! "

— Bingo, just what you needed to hear from the 'Little Morningstar' Herself. After all, your resume was damn near flawless, ( although erasing abit of your lore, like, you being an important figure up in the clouds ! ) Denying such a resume would be an utter loss the hotel of course !

— The hard part, however, is pretending to be a Sinner —And while sure you're not exactly a Saint, you've been drilled with proper manners, and overly kiss-ass behavior from Michael's, " How to be a proper Angel 101, " Lessons.

— Working as a gardener was easy in the long run, you've been taking care of plants for millennia — Although you could say a little One-Eyed Darling is abit iffy with the soil you had staining and dirtying your uniform, and well.. the dirt in general, but ! You were of course polite, being a dirty slob was incredibly embarrassing !

— So, just to ease Niffty you kept the dirt, soil, and grime all In the outside. ( Exception is the dirt, soil, and grime in the flower pots.. ) You often lead her to bug species that were harmful to your plants, finding amusement as she ruthlessly, and painstakingly kills their mother's. Maybe Charlie should say that she's only 75% percent harmless ?

— Your relationship with the Daughter of the Morningstar was, peaceful, maybe? You often let her rant to you about mundane stuff, finding her little shows and musicals, ballad's and all the such abit endearing, often leading you to follow the rhythm, and tapping your finger along to the beat as she sings, ( although you never joined such activities, ) You notice alot of her quirks, like her using hand gestures, her mushing out on a few words, ( and how she's abit naïve to how some of the residences -sinners, ehem, if not most of them were rather unredeemable. )

— She often reminded you of a certain Seraphim from up there, their resemblance being uncanny, but nostalgic. And due to you getting used to the Seraphim's personality you found it relatively easy to get along with Charlie, your day to day chats, and her suggestions for flowers were a delight, ( Let's hope she doesn't find out a few of the flowers she suggested, and you planted, don't belong in Hell. )

— She thinks that you're reliable, and a very comforting person to be around —She truly believes you deserve to be redeemed with how righteous and charitable you act, she considers you a sister, a person she can rely on when things go south, someone to have sibling conversation's with !

— Although, her girlfriend —Angel in disguise, hehe. You noticed Vaggie held a tense atmosphere around you, not that you minded, you were new, and 'Sinners' aren't exactly to be trusted, but you both kept a respectful and polite attitude towards eachother, in respect of Charlie.

— As time passed however Vaggie found you oddly nostalgic, your behavior.. and your mannerisms were too 'pristine' and 'polished' almost as if you'd been drilled with lessons for so long, or, maybe Vaggie was just imagining it, you held an aura which screamed 'Noble' in some way, but with the way you carried yourself..

— Vaggie had to just be imagining when she saw Blue Blood drip down from your finger, right?

— Now, moving on to Alastor; he was polite to all the ladies in the Hotel ( Including you, ) however you always notice how his shadows linger longer than they're supposed to, ( Is he watching ? ) He held a dignified aura within him, his voice —Static, that's what you could hear, and if you didn't pay much attention maybe you would've missed how there was a laughing track, only heard if you payed more attention than you should.

— Your first meeting with him, was.. well, eerie.

— " Alastor'— He grabbed your hand and shook it, the action causing you to tumble abit, before gaining composure —' Pleasure to be meeting you dear, quite a pleasure ! " He greeted, giving you his all too famous never ending smile. You smiled back politely, and then said, " Eden.. Although you could call m— nevermind, I'm the new gardener, honor to meet you Sir ! " You gave back the same energy, it's impolite to not too after all.

— Alastor enjoys your modest fashion, and how polite you are, quite a darling ! ( He doesn't like you. )

— For Angel Dust's opinion however.. A prude, with a clean streak ( how'd ya even end up in hell with such a goody-goody personality ? ) Sure Toot's, everyone has their own secrets but being so mysterious in a place like Hell ? Might aswell just be open with your crimes and all, not like anyone has the ability to judge ( Hell is Hell, )

— Although your company ain't too bad, after all —You give 'hella good advice, however he recognizes that look on your face —You're hidin' something big-time, and even then with your reckless and ditzy actions he KNOWS you aren't tryna' hide it at all.

— Husk.. He pays zero mind to you, often having chats some nights when you go for a swig- or -two, you were cryptic —In a different way, unlike a certain Smiles for Day's. You weren't eerie, neither creepy, just too secretive, everyone's knows it.

— Husk knows how Alastor feels about you, and to be honest, it ain't pretty. Consider how he knows about Alastor's certain feelings about someone being far more powerful, being petty, and all.

— But how much longer until everyone knows how deep of an entity you actually are?

FIN.

[lullaebies]

Aegon III/Jaehaera prompt/request: Jaehaera is with their kids (maybe they're in the godswood playing) and Aegon ends up joining them?

(also Alicent is alive because why not? And if two of their daughters could be named for their moms I think that'd be cool)

“Get down from the tree at this instance, young lady,” Alicent warns, face lifted to look at the very branches of the heart tree. 

Jaehaera snaps her head back. Her grandmother had been a great aid with her daughters, but sometimes they grow rambunctious beyond belief. Helaena and Rhaenyra are seven now, and their elderly grandmother had struggled to keep pace. Alicent’s now grey hair has blended somewhat unremarkably between her silver-haired family, but it is hard to match with a dragon-spirit.

“No,” Helaena answers, hugging the thick branch of the tree, silver strands cascading down, hanging in the air. “I like it here.”

Jaehaera frowns at her from below. She had been busy braiding Rhaenyra’s hair with all the flowers she wanted in it. Helaena was supposed to wait her turn, but alas, she would not. “We said no climbing, Helaena!”

Her daughter sticks out her tongue, managing to sit up on the branch fearlessly. 

“I will get a Kingsguard,” Alicent says after trying to lift her hands to reach her; the heart tree is stocky rather than tall, but her hands are too short. “I will not have you falling down this branch!”

“I never do!” The girl answers, dignified.

Jaehaera ties off Rhaenyra’s braid, and the girl stands up, looking at her sister. “Yes you do!” she says, while swishing around her braid proudly. “Grandma will get Mister Willy to get you!”

Jaehaera tries to maintain a serious demeanor. Ser Willis Fell will never vanquish this silly nickname. Jaehaera lifts herself to come by the tree. “It is time to get down, Helaena.” 

“Don’t wanna,” the girl repeats in giggles, stuck to the tree like a cicada. Her little stubborn girl. This Helaena is not her mother, but she can’t help but feel stressed at the idea of her falling. Jaehaera is sure her grandmother feels similarly; only a few years ago she had refused to leave her rooms, still. 

“Papa,” Rhaenyra suddenly exclaims, running towards an incoming figure and hugging his leg. “Helaena climbed the trees again!” 

Aegon, patting gently against her head, hums. “And is making far too many people beg again, is she?”

“Yes!” 

Jaehaera turns around to him, a little sigh escaping her when her husband comes by her side. “She was supposed to be waiting her turn for a braid.”

Aegon hums. “The first mistake was expecting her to wait,” he says, and after some pause, kisses the side of her head. He’s been opening slowly to all touch since their daughters grew up.

They’ve come into a good place in their marriage, this last year. He tries to reach out more, even when her grandmother still turns stony whenever he comes around. Alicent curtsies at him respectfully, but is clearly concerned more by her granddaughter to spare him too much of her gaze. She lifts her arms again. “Helaena, come down.”

Aegon gives Jaehaera one glance, before he steps forward between grandmother and granddaughter. “Let me,” he says, and he lifts his arms himself. Alicent’s brown eyes squint at him, but move aside. He actually reaches the legs the girl had been swinging, and she giggles. “Jump to me, daughter? I’ll catch you.”

Helaena licks her lips. Her deep amethyst eyes have a happy glint to them. This is just a way to fly for her. The girl lifts herself off the branch, and falls, but into her father’s safe arms. He catches her in a big hug.

“There we go,” he says, smiling at his daughter as he turns back to Alicent. “Now we all can be calm.”

Her grandmother still struggles with Aegon at times, but her brown eyes turn softer then, holding her wrinkled hands together as she watches her chuckling granddaughter. Alicent gives him a nod and speaks gently. “Thank you, your Grace.”

Aegon nods back at her, gracefully humble. Looking back at Helaena, he holds the strands of her hair. “Do you want your hair braided too, now?”

Helaena glances at Rhaenyra, and they share some mischievous look. “No,” she says. “Papa’s turn.”

“Papa’s?” he asks, and before Jaehaera knows it, Rhaenyra tugs on her hand and rushes her to her father. Helaena is already tugging on Aegon’s hair. 

“Papa’s turn, papa’s turn!” Rhaenyra repeats, and Jaehaera laughs at the look on her husband’s face. Oh, he’s positively shocked, almost speechless as he realizes there is no escape.

Jaehaera brings a hand to his shoulder. “Your turn, husband,” she tells him. “Sit down, if you may.”

“..If you ask so kindly, I suppose I must,” he says in soft exasperation as Helaena already tugs on some of his strands. He hardly ever breaks into a smile, but there is a tug on the corners of his lips. He sits down, and lets Jaehaera and their daughters come around him. Jaehaera runs a hand through his hair gently, hoping he knows she is glad for this, too.

Her grandmother sits slightly farther away, watching all throughout, any frown or scowl notably absent. Later, when Jaehaera escorts her back to her rooms, Alicent gives her an old book. Beautifully illustrated, but not well tended to — it seems a page of it is missing. 

“You should read it, with your husband and the girls,” she tells her. “The kindest of days are those passed with stories told at the shade of the heart trees.”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Fast Car (S.R.)

Summary: Reader drives a sleepy Spencer home. Request: Dr. I Cannot Drive Spencer Reid trying to convince reader to drive him somewhere Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: Driving Word Count: 700

MASTERLIST

The Virginia backroads seem longer at night. Most of the world is sleeping and you are wishing for the same, but your bag is heavy and still sitting on your desk.

In the dim lighting of the closed bullpen, you look over at the only other one left. The same man who had offered you a ride to and from work… but was now slumped over, half-asleep on his desk.

You can’t find it in you to be bothered when he looks so sweet—a little bit pathetic with his bedhead and pouted lips—but sweet, nonetheless.

He doesn’t lift his head when you approach him, but he does whine. He shifts like he can turn the desk into the bed he wishes it was.

“Come on, wonder boy, it’s time to go home,” you chuckle.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles.

You don’t dignify the protest with an answer. Instead, you slowly pull his chair back until he must move.

He does. He groggily pulls himself as together as he can, but it’s you that carefully arranges his hair back into its normal state of disarray, giggling all the while.

Spencer’s face turns pink at the gesture, but he tries to hide how fondly he feels.

He fails, of course. You can see it clearly in smitten eyes that scan your face for any hint of reciprocity. You wonder if he can see it, since you feel it so strongly.

If he does, he doesn’t mention it. He just clears his throat and asks, “Do you… do you think you can drive?”

“Why?” you ask in a very rhetorical manner, “Is something wrong?”

Spencer answers, anyway.

“I’m fine, I’m just really tired. I didn’t sleep well last night, and driving is… exhausting. There is so much to pay attention to, and I don’t want to do any of it.”

“I know,” you coo. You place both hands on his cheeks and squeeze until his yawn turns back into a pout. “Poor sleepy boy can’t do two things at once.”

“It’s way more than two things!” he squeaks.

You smile. You recognize the rant coming from a mile away and decide that no matter how much you love to hear him talk, you’d rather hear something less morbid. Even more importantly, you’d like to hear it on your way home.

“Spencer, not only am I happy to drive, I would prefer it,” you explain.

His offense is immediate as he replies very sternly, “Hey! I’m a very good driver!”

“Oh yeah?”

He catches the smirk on your face; he knows you’re only teasing him. But his competitive nature bleeds into his voice as he huffs, “Better than you!”

“We’ll see about that.”

He accepts the challenge. Or at least, he pretends like he does until the wheels start turning.

It takes him less than five minutes to fall asleep in the passenger seat. You think about waking him just to tease him, but you ultimately decide to let him sleep.

You watch the road but wish that you could watch him instead. You listen to the soft sound of his breath through the ruckus of the road beneath your wheels. You think back to the taunt you’d delivered back at the office.

When you’d mentioned your preference for driving, you hadn’t meant it as an insult. You had simply meant that you liked how peacefully he slept in your company. You loved the way he never doubted that you would keep him safe.

It hadn’t mattered to you who would bear the burden of watching the road; any amount of time, no matter how infinitesimal, would be worth whatever the world requires.

Your foot eases off the gas pedal as you reach a long stretch of road. There are no headlights in your rear view. It’s just, Spencer, and the Virginia night sky unimpeded by city lights.

The car almost comes to a stop before a pothole. You maneuver around it, careful not to jostle the sleeping boy to your side.

For as long as you can, you drive under the speed limit and watch twice as hard for anything that might excuse you to take just a little bit longer.

The car coasts down the road.

Spencer had never slept better.

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