#she made him do it so much he could probably STILL do it to this day if he wanted to

[withahappyrefrain]

mmm i’m thinking “When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?” with our beloved bobby. he’s very serious about face sitting, y’know 😌

He does!!!! Especially older BF! Bob ☺️☺️☺️ slight daddy kink at the end!

"You want me to what?" Surely, he couldn't have said what you thought he said.

Just moments ago, your limbs were tangled with your boyfriend's, hips jerking against one another. Bob's request made you stop in your tracks.

"I think you heard me darlin'," there was a twinkle in his eyes. Dare you say it, it looked almost mischievous. His normally bright blue eyes had darkened.

"Bob, if I sit on you, I'll cr-"

"When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?" The sternness of his deep voice made your thighs clench. Bob extended his arms out, motioning you to grab his hands.

With shaking legs, you began to move up Bob's body.

"No one's ever asked you to do this, have they?" You shook your head and Bob could feel his cock twitch. Why every partner of yours has treated you like shit was beyond him.

But he was delighted that he would be the first (and hopefully last) person to show you this way of pleasure.

"That's it, atta girl," He encourages as your core gets closer to his face.

His obscenely large hands grip your thighs, kneading the soft flesh, "Fuckin' love these thighs."

"Really?" It was a genuine question. You were used to people focusing on your tits and ass.

"'Course I do. So fucking soft but I know they could crush me if you tried," He places soft kisses up your thighs, gentle bites leaving you gasping, gripping the bedframe for some stability.

"Then there's this sweet lil' pussy," long fingers skim your soaked folds, eliciting a whimper. You didn't question him this time; when it came to your cunt, Bob would worship. He made that known early on.

He gets up on his elbows, placing a kiss dangerously close to your clit, "Fuck, she's already so wet for me. You excited sweet girl?"

You nodded, trying to muster up all the available strength you had so as to not collapse from his words, "Y-yes sir."

The title earns a low growl from Bob, your thighs clenching at the sound. He could probably see it but you weren't concerned. Despite being in such a vulnerable position, you felt mostly at ease.

Except for the fact you had no idea what you were doing.

As if Bob could sense it, he placed his hands on your thighs, "Alright, y'gonna lower yourself slowly, okay sweet girl?"

You nodded, following his instructions.

Bob usually was patient, it was one of the many qualities that helped him become an Admiral. But the sight of your soaked core, just dying to be touched, made him lose all sense of the trait.

His mouth eagerly latched onto your cunt, tongue exploring every inch of you. A loud moan vibrated off the walls of his bedroom. Your fingers gripped the wooden bed frame tightly as Bob's tongue lapped up your arousal.

His hands moved to your ass, gripping the ample flesh. Bob would be the first to admit he was addicted to your taste, to you. If Bob could spend the rest of his life pleasing you, he'd die a happy man.

You found your hips rocking back and forth. Immediately, you stilled them. After all, that would be too much, right?

"Don't stop," Bob murmurs, his voice slightly muffled, "I gotcha baby."

The pet name made you weak both in the knees and the heart. How could one man be simultaneously so hot but also so fucking sweet?

Beginning the motions again, one hand moves down to grip Bob's sun kissed locks. He hums in approval, vibrating against your core. His tongue alternated from exploring your entrance to sucking your throbbing clit. As he continued his ministrations, you found yourself unable to keep your voice level down, the room echoing with your moans.

Perks of owning a house, don't have to worry about noise complaints.

Every time his buttoned nose brushed against your clit, it sent you closer and closer to the edge. You tried to slow your hips, but thanks to his grip on your ass, Bob was able to move with you ease.

"Bob-Bobby, I'm close," your voice was desperate, almost pathetic. You hardly recognized it.

And yet, you felt no shame. Gone were the days of being overly self conscious during sex. You had Bob now, who made you feel safe.

Still, it was a shock when he continued his ministrations, rather than lift you off. Your hips now had a mind of their own, rocking against Bob's face in an attempt to chase the high that was just within reach.

When you looked down, the sight below you took your breath away.

Blue eyes half closed in pleasure, hands kneading your soft thighs, sandy brown hair disheveled, some strands having fallen over his forehead. His mouth greedily devouring you.

He looked beautiful. He looked like he was getting just as much pleasure out of this as you, maybe even more.

Your head lolled backwards as white hot pleasure coursed through your body. Your hands gripped his hair, hips rocking erratically.

His name echoed off the walls, his moans mixing with yours.

"Fuck! D-daddy!" The nickname slipped out. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about ever since you and Bob started dating. It was just the concept of bringing it up that you were still figuring out.

A downright feral growl escaped Bob's lips. The next thing you knew, you were lying on your back, Bob's hard cock teasing your soaked entrance.

"Say it," he growled, "Say it again."

"Daddy?" Bob sharply inhaled through his nose, his cock swiftly entering and filling you completely.

"Daddy!"

Bob panted in your ear, his hips driving into yours at a feral pace.

Now that he had you, he was never letting you go.

[1d1195]

Most - Extra I

Read Most here | ~2k words

From me: It's probably too early for an extra for them, but I seriously couldn't resist. Takes place sometime within the first couple of months of the last part.

Warnings: this is going to be disgustingly sweet. Nothing to report except you'll have a toothache after reading.

Summary: Harry gets to rush home from work now to the love of his life. Everything about her makes his heart ache.

Harry was exhausted. Now that she was home, he didn’t have a reason to avoid going home to be by himself. There was no need to feel suffocated by loneliness because he wasn’t alone anymore. So, he changed his work schedule quite a bit. He wasn’t single anymore (even if he never felt that way anyway). But he didn’t do overtime much anymore. He didn’t pick up shifts that others didn’t want or were unable to work due to their own families. The station was never left stranded regardless, but he wasn’t the go-to ask anymore. He felt a little bad and still occasionally took a short overtime shift, but not nearly as many as the insane hours he was prior to her coming home. He didn’t take his time leaving either the way he used to. There was no need anymore. Fortunately, all his coworkers were completely understanding.

48 hours on and 96 hours off. A normal shift for a firefighter. It was so much better than the 18-hour days he was doing before she returned. He could see her for days at a time. He pampered her, snuggled her, and kissed every inch of her skin like she might disappear again even though he really didn’t believe that anymore the way he did when she first came home.

But the end of this two-day shift left him exhausted. It was exceptionally busy. Thankfully, no one was hurt. Only one small house fire contained to the kitchen and the toaster that caught the curtain in the window at fault. There was lots of paperwork that needed filing and reporting for a hundred different things. There was more training. Another visit to the elementary school and a safety outreach program in partnership with other community groups.

Harry grabbed his bag from the back seat, locked his door, and headed inside. Each step felt heavier than the next. He couldn’t wait to get into bed beside her and snuggle her. With the way her work schedule was, she had arrived home after him the last few times. But today, her car was parked next to his. It made his heart flutter. Happy that he had everything he ever wanted. The love of his life, a cute house, and everything. But Harry could have done without the house, the car, the career he loved.

She was there.

That was everything.

It was late. Almost eleven. The outside air was chilly. The moon glowed so bright it almost felt like a stage light on his arrival home. There was the smell of a campfire somewhere a few streets over. All concluding to a perfect fall night. He almost wanted to wake her just so she could come outside and smell it because it reminded him of a bonfire they went to when they first started dating. They made out under a tree and giggled about all their future while their friends drank around the fire.

Quietly, he unlocked the door. He was hoping she wouldn’t wake from his arrival. Her classes alongside work had been kicking her butt. Maybe worse than a 48-hour shift not that she would ever let him think that. No, she doted on him and made sure he was doing okay regardless of how tired she was. It made his heart ache with how much she adored him, but Harry was lucky to have five days off between his shifts. She was lucky if she had one.

Kicking his shoes off right inside the door he was overwhelmed with how good it smelled. A combo of whatever she cooked for dinner and the now permanent scent of her hair care wafting through the house from bathroom all the way to the living room. If this had been even a year ago, Harry never would have thought it was possible to have it all. But the smell of her shampoo was enough to make his eyes watery. Especially after a long couple of days.

He dropped his bag by his shoes, locked the front door, and turned to make his way to the kitchen to put his Tupperware in the dishwasher. He wished he looked sooner because the sight made his heart skim a beat. A strangled, quiet groan came from his throat, as he tried to stop it so he would wake her. Wouldn’t start sobbing with how much he adored her.

Harry rushed to the living room sofa, dropped to his knees beside it. One hand fell to her hip and danced up the curve of her waist, resting on her ribcage as her breath moved her body up and down at gentle intervals. “Kitten,” he murmured.

She didn’t stir. Harry placed a hand over her ear along the side of her head. Softly he rubbed his fingertips into her head. “Baby,” he tried again. Seeing her so peacefully on his couch made him possessive and happy. He wanted nothing more than to watch her like she was his favorite show. All she had to do was sleep; it was enough entertainment for him. They dreamed of things like this and now it was here, and he felt so much love it made him want to cry.

She grunted softly. “Hi baby,” she hummed reaching out and grabbed at his T-shirt. She pulled at the chest, right below the collar of it and tugged him toward her more. Then, she slid her hand over his face. “You okay?”

“M’fine. Why aren’t y’in bed, kitten?"

"S'cold,” she mumbled, yawned.

“So, turn the heat up, baby,” a smile was in his voice as he shook his head at her.

She shook her head back in response. Slowly, she sat up. Her arms came and wrapped around his shoulders and tucked her face into his neck. “Not that kinda cold,” she mumbled.

Fuck, he loved her so much. She was so cute it made him want to scream. She was purposefully on the sofa. Waiting for him.

He swallowed the emotion that was blocking his throat, and he exhaled slowly to calm himself before he had to explain to her why he was crying like a baby because of her and how much he loved her.

He was royally fucked when she walked down the aisle. He would blubber. There wouldn’t be enough tissues in the world to dry his eyes.

“Baby, y'can't sleep on the couch every time m'at work."

"Watch me."

God. His arms tightened around her waist, and he kissed the side of her head as he rocked her gently. He couldn't be close enough to her. "S'bad for your neck t’be on the couch, kitten.”

"It's bad for my heart to be without you in bed."

Harry was going to sob because of her. He squeezed her again. He wasn’t arguing. He just wanted her to be comfy and cozy. Gently, he gripped just behind her knees and pulled her legs around his hips and swiftly stood all in the same movement. He kissed her temple. “Are you hungry?” She asked sleepily. “I’ll make you a plate,” but she nuzzled into his neck, and he almost wanted to say yes, just so he could see how she would manage while half asleep. He thought it was adorable. She was adorable.

“No, kitten. M’fine.”

She frowned. “Did you eat?”

“I ate baby. Don’t worry,” he promised.

“You don’t have to carry me. I’m heavy and you worked so long—”

“Shh,” he hushed. He supported one arm beneath her bum, cradling her to him. He carried her to the bedroom and placed her softly on the mattress before he moved away. She pouted rubbing at her eye with the palm of her hand.

“Where are you going?”

He really didn’t think his heart could take how cute she was. It felt like it was bursting, threatening to break out of his ribcage and find its way into hers so it could be next to her heart. “M’jus’ changing, baby, showered before I left,” he explained. “Gonna be all snuggled close.”

She sighed with relief. Crawled beneath the covers and waited patiently while Harry stripped down to his boxers and went to the bathroom to quickly swish his toothbrush around his mouth.

Harry wasted no time getting into bed. He lifted the sheet, blanket, and comforter that she had decorated the bed in a pattern Harry never would have had if she didn’t live with him. It was plenty warm. Rendering her defense all the sweeter.

He opened his arms for her to nuzzle against him where she also wasted no time falling into his embrace.

Maybe one day she would sleep in bed without him suffocating her with his cuddling.

But it wasn’t going to be any time soon.

“I love you,” she murmured to him.

“I love you,” he kissed down the length of her neck.

“Missed you so much.”

Sometimes he didn’t know if he meant her shift or the three years that he didn’t see her.

“I missed you, baby,” honestly it didn’t matter what she meant because the moments she wasn’t within his sight he missed her like crazy. Too much time apart made him a little insane. A little hungry for time that he couldn’t get back. But he would try anyway and enjoy every second of it. “Don’t sleep on the sofa waiting for me,” he hummed. He worried about her always. “It’ll hurt your neck.”

“Don’t you care about how my heart will hurt, Harry?” Her voice was soft, joking.

“More than anything, kitten,” he promised, seriously. “M’always going t’come home t’you though. Did y’sleep on the sofa last night?” He wondered, realizing that there was always going to be a day he didn’t know where she slept. She nodded against him. No speaking. Perhaps she was too tired. Too tired to pretend as well. There was a tight pressure around his heart and a half-smile, half-frown pulled on his lips. “Baby,” he tutted. “I don’t want you t’do that.”

“S’too late. Spent too many nights without you,” she mumbled.

So, Harry understood. He would have to think of something to help her. But for now, he understood. “M’in love with you,” he reminded her.

“Me too, baby,” she squeezed him making him feel whole.

He cupped the back of her head, kissed the center of her forehead letting his lips press there for so long he hoped it would suction his mouth to her skin just so he never had to let her go ever again. “Can we have French toast in the morning?” She whispered.

He nodded easily, his eyelids felt heavier as they closed, and his chin bumped the top of her head. “Whatever y’want, kitten.”

“Whatever I want?” She murmured.

He nodded again. “Always.”

“Harry?” She whispered. It seemed she got a bit of a second wind from the time he got her off the sofa and brought her to bed. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t feeling any bit of it. As much as he wanted to stay awake and talk to her for hours on end, he hadn’t slept much the last two days and he felt sleepiness winning over the desire to speak.

“Hmm?” He hummed, almost falling fast asleep before he could hear her again.

“I hate sleeping without you. I never want to do it ever again unless you’re working or you’re on a trip with your family or because Niall wants to sleep with you,” she took a deep breath while Harry smiled and shook his head at her. “So, when we get married, I don’t want to do a single night apart, not even the day before.”

Harry reached for her left hand that rested on his shoulder and he softly rubbed her ring finger. He nodded. Kissed the crown of her head and sighed. “Okay, angel,” he murmured. “No night’s apart that aren’t necessary.”

“I’ll stop talking. You can go to sleep.”

“Don’t get out of bed in the morning,” he murmured and squeezed her tighter. “I hate when y’do that,” he grumbled.

She giggled. “I’ll wake you.”

“Good,” he sighed. “I love you. More than anything.”

“I love you,” she answered. “More than anything.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydrawings @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

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most: @harryspirate

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Crash Course

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

word count: 822

pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

summary: Y/n returns to the paddock after recovering from her injuries, and Lando confronts her with his growing feelings

______________________________________________________________

The days following the crash were a blur for Y/n, filled with recovery sessions and endless interviews about the accident. The media buzzed with speculation, talking more about the rivalry between her and Lando than about the championship itself. Everyone wanted to know if the tension between them had reached a breaking point.

But Y/n couldn’t stop thinking about what Lando had said. His confession kept replaying in her mind, stirring something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. She kept pushing it aside, trying to focus on her recovery and the upcoming races, but it lingered in the back of her thoughts, persistent and confusing.

A few days later, Y/n was back at the paddock, still moving a little stiffly but determined to show everyone she was ready to race again. She walked through the garage, her team bustling around her, making sure everything was in place for the next practice session.

As she sat down to review some data, she felt a presence behind her before she heard the voice.

“Back so soon?” Lando’s voice was light, but she could hear the edge of concern behind it.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder, seeing him leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were studying her closely, as if assessing whether she was really okay.

“Did you expect me to stay away?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

Lando smirked, pushing off the wall and walking closer. “Just making sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m fine,” Y/n insisted, though the slight wince as she shifted in her seat betrayed her.

Lando noticed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure about that?”

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes. “You sound like my doctor.”

“Maybe I should be,” he teased, but there was an underlying sincerity in his tone. “Look, I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Y/n paused, the playful banter between them losing its edge. There it was again—that concern, that softness. She wasn’t used to this version of Lando, and it made her feel off-balance.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked quietly, looking up at him.

Lando hesitated, his playful smile fading. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before sitting down on the chair next to hers. “Because I meant what I said, Y/n. After the crash, when you almost collapsed… I realized how much I care. More than I probably should.”

Her heart skipped a beat, the air around them growing thick with tension. “Lando…”

“I know we’re rivals,” he continued, his voice low and serious. “And we’re both fighting for the championship, but… that doesn’t change how I feel.”

Y/n’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. This was happening—he was actually saying it, putting into words what had been unspoken between them for so long. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could she explain the way she felt, when she wasn’t even sure herself?

Seeing her hesitation, Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I get it. This is complicated. And if you don’t feel the same way, we can forget it—”

“No,” Y/n interrupted, her voice firm. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “It’s not that. I just… I’ve been so focused on beating you, on proving I’m the best, that I didn’t stop to think about anything else.”

Lando’s eyes softened, a glimmer of hope flickering in his expression. “And now?”

Y/n looked at him, the weight of her feelings settling in her chest. “Now, I’m starting to realize there’s more to this than just the rivalry.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as they looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. The tension that had always existed between them was still there, but it had changed—shifted into something neither of them had expected.

Lando leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… what now?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart racing. She knew they couldn’t just flip a switch and change everything. They were still competitors, still fighting for the same title. But maybe—just maybe—they could be something more, too.

“I guess we see what happens,” she replied softly, her eyes locking with his.

Lando’s lips curled into a small smile. “I like the sound of that.”

Before they could say anything else, Y/n’s team called her over for a briefing. She stood up, feeling Lando’s eyes on her as she turned to leave. Just before she walked away, she glanced back at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the end of their rivalry—but it could be the beginning of something else. Something that neither of them had been prepared for, but now seemed impossible to ignore.

[rafedarling]

What about single dad Drew with like his 3 year old baby girl who looks just like him. And he’s her favorite person on either and she’s his 🥺

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

pairing: none, just single dad!drew

summary: drew is a single father to his three-year-old daughter, lila, who is the spitting image of him. with her big blue eyes and a curious smile that matches his, they share an unbreakable bond. lila’s love for her father is as fierce as his devotion to her, and every moment they spend together becomes a memory drew treasures. through the little joys and challenges of parenthood, drew learns that being a father is the greatest role he’s ever had. but most of all, he discovers that the pure love of his daughter can heal wounds he didn’t even know were still open.

warning(s): fluff, emotional family bonding, mentions of single parenthood, brief reference to past heartache (lila’s mother is absent).

au’s: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @enjoymyloves @akobx @rubixgsworld @xoxohoneymoongirl @mileyraes @maybankslover @noobmazter69 @littlelamy @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry @bisexualcvnt @stuffyownswrld @anamiad00msday

It was one of those mornings that began with slow and gentle, Drew stirred in his sleep, groaning slightly as he felt the small, familiar weight of his daughter beside him.

Lila had crawled into bed with him sometime during the night, the way she always did when she had a bad dream or just wanted to be close to her daddy. Drew never minded. In fact, it had become one of his favorite parts of the day—waking up with her warm little body tucked against his side.

“Daddy,” Lila’s sleepy voice whispered, barely more than a breath as she wiggled closer.

Drew blinked his eyes open, his vision blurry from sleep, but he didn’t need to see to know it was her. He could recognize the feel of her curls against his arm, the smell of her lavender baby shampoo, and the soft sound of her breathing.

“Morning, princess,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He glanced down and saw her big blue eyes looking up at him—eyes that mirrored his own so perfectly, it always made him pause. He smiled sleepily, brushing her unruly curls out of her face.

Lila giggled, her little hand resting against his cheek. She was always doing that, always touching him, like she needed the reassurance that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Daddy, I had a dream,” she said, her voice serious as if she was about to impart some great wisdom.

“Oh yeah?” Drew replied, feigning interest, knowing the dream was probably something nonsensical. “What was it about?”

“There was a unicorn,” Lila began, her eyes wide with excitement. “And he was pink! And he could fly, and we went to space, and there were lots of stars. And then you came and helped me catch them.”

Drew’s heart melted as he listened to her. Her imagination always amazed him, the way she could create entire worlds in her mind. “Wow, that sounds like a great dream. You caught the stars, huh?”

Lila nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Yep! And I saved one for you.”

Drew smiled, pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head. “Thank you, princess. I love it.”

Lila beamed, proud of her imaginary star-catching prowess, then her stomach growled, and she let out a tiny giggle.

“You hungry, huh?” Drew chuckled.

“Mmhmm. Can we have eggs, Daddy? And toast?” Lila asked, her voice bright with anticipation.

“Eggs and toast coming right up,” Drew said, lifting her effortlessly into his arms and carrying her toward the kitchen. She clung to him, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck, her cheek pressed against his chest. There was something about the way she held onto him—like he was her whole world, and in truth, she was his.

In the kitchen, Lila hopped onto her usual spot at the counter, kneeling on the stool as Drew began preparing breakfast. She had taken to watching him cook with the same focus and attention that she gave her favorite cartoons.

“Can I help?” she asked, her little legs swinging as she leaned forward eagerly.

Drew smiled over his shoulder at her. “Of course, chef. I’ll let you stir the eggs, okay?”

Lila grinned widely, proud of her role in their breakfast routine. She stood up on her stool, bouncing a little as Drew handed her the whisk. With intense concentration, she began stirring the eggs, her little hand gripping the whisk as she moved it back and forth in the bowl. Drew watched her with quiet amusement, amazed at how even something as simple as stirring eggs could make her so happy.

“You’re doing great, Lila,” Drew said, placing a hand on her back to steady her as she leaned too far forward.

“I’m a good cooker, Daddy,” she declared, her tone full of self-assuredness.

“You are,” Drew agreed, chuckling softly as he took over, scrambling the eggs in the pan. He added some diced tomatoes and a sprinkle of cheese, knowing Lila loved the little bursts of flavor.

“Can we have juice too?” Lila asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Juice coming up,” Drew replied, reaching into the fridge for her favorite—apple juice. He poured some into her tiny cup, the one with the little dinosaurs on it that she always insisted on using.

“Yay!” Lila cheered, clapping her hands together.

When the eggs and toast were done, Drew carried the plates to the table and helped Lila into her seat. She immediately dug into her food, her face lighting up with each bite.

“Daddy, these are the best eggs ever,” she said between mouthfuls, crumbs gathering on her lips.

“Glad you like ‘em,” Drew said, shaking his head with a smile. He could never get over how much joy she found in the simplest things. It was one of the many things about Lila that made his heart ache with love.

They ate in comfortable silence, the sound of Lila’s chatter and the clinking of plates filling the room. Drew sipped his coffee, feeling that familiar warmth settle in his chest. He had always heard that being a parent changed your life, but nothing could have prepared him for just how much his heart would expand for this little person sitting across from him.

Lila finished her breakfast with an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction, then leaned back in her chair, her legs still swinging back and forth beneath the table.

“What are we gonna do today, Daddy?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity.

Drew thought for a moment, considering their usual weekend routines. It was Saturday, and Saturdays were their special days—days meant for playground visits, spontaneous adventures, and all the cuddles in the world.

“Well,” Drew began, wiping her sticky face with a napkin. “How about we go to the park, and then maybe we can make some art when we get back? What do you think?”

Lila’s eyes lit up. “The park! And can we make a rainbow? I wanna paint a rainbow.”

“Deal,” Drew said, laughing softly. “Park first, rainbow later.”

Lila bounced excitedly in her chair, unable to contain her excitement. “Let’s go, Daddy! Let’s go now!”

Drew stood and started to clean up the plates, but Lila had already darted off to grab her shoes from the hallway. He shook his head, marveling at her boundless energy, and followed her, grabbing her tiny pink jacket from the hook by the door.

At the park, Lila ran ahead, her tiny legs carrying her as fast as they could toward the swings. Drew trailed behind her, his eyes never leaving her. She was so small, yet so full of life, and watching her made him feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“Push me, Daddy!” she called out as she climbed onto the swing, her little feet dangling as she gripped the chains tightly.

Drew jogged over and gave her a gentle push, smiling as she squealed in delight. The sound of her laughter filled the air, and Drew felt the now-familiar swell of pride and love wash over him.

Lila was everything to him. Every smile, every laugh, every tiny hand held in his—it all reminded him that he was exactly where he needed to be. He may not have planned to raise her on his own, but the moment she came into his life, everything else faded into the background.

“Higher, Daddy!” Lila begged, her laughter bubbling up again.

Drew obliged, giving the swing another push. Her laughter rang out louder, her curls flying wildly around her face.

He couldn’t help but smile, knowing that no matter how fast life moved, moments like these would always be his favorite.

By the time they made it home, Lila was beginning to slow down, her earlier energy now spent. They spent the afternoon painting rainbows at the kitchen table—Lila’s small hands making a mess of the watercolors while Drew watched her with soft eyes.

Her rainbow was more of a colorful blob by the time she finished, but to Drew, it was a masterpiece.

“Look, Daddy! I made it for you,” she said, holding up her painting proudly.

Drew took it from her, his heart swelling. “It’s perfect, Lila. Just like you.”

Later, as the evening crept in, Drew tucked Lila into her bed, her soft whispers filling the quiet room. “Daddy, can you stay with me?” she asked, her small hand reaching out for his.

Drew smiled, crawling into the bed beside her. “Always, princess. Always.”

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All (Alternate Ending - Character Death)

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; arguing; crying; mentions of therapy/counseling; kidnapping; violence; guns; injury; main character death

Please read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

Had someone ask for a different alternate ending so here it is :)

*This picks up from part 13 in italics*

The moment the video stopped, you locked eyes with Simon. Your puffy eyes made him internally broken, but his facial expression hadn't changed, and you didn't know if he was upset that you had gotten revenge for cheating on you... or if it was something else. You wanted to say that it meant nothing. That you were drunk and fucking mad at him... but you couldn't say shit with the tape still over your mouth.

"I have to say, she sounds.. so damn good. Doesn't she?" Jax teased as he asked everyone in the room. Even with Andrei not responding, since he was the one who had his tongue on you, Jax smiled at Simon like he had won or something, "How does it feel?" He walked and stood behind Simon as he leaned down so his face was almost next to his, looking at you, "Tell her." He demanded.

Simon's eyes never strayed away from yours as you continued to cry. The look on his face hadn't really changed, but his eyes told you exactly how he felt. The regret that ran through his soul.... he wished he could been a better man; a better husband. You didn't deserve any of this.. yet you stayed. You had wanted to work on your marriage even after the ugly truth came out. It was his fault, and he would forever kill himself over it. He would be grateful if you ever forgave him, promising to give you the entire world and more after he so much tore yours apart by cheating.

"I love you," he lowly said, making you cry even more. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart... for everythin'."

"Satisfying, isn't it?.. Finally realizing your mistakes?"

Simon finally tore his eyes away from you and looked at Jax, "Let her go."

He paused, acting as if he was thinking about something, "I thought about it," he teased, "but see... I can't do that. She's knows far too much... much more than our girl Williams," he joked - a terrible one that made both you and Simon shoot him the deadliest glare.

He raised his gun up, pointing it at you, making your eyes widen.

"Let her go, Jax," Simon raised his voice, "This is between me and you."

"Oh, it's not just me," he chuckled, "But I guess it would be easier to take you out first." He moved his gun to point it at Simon's temple.

You yelled through the tape and thrashed around as you tried to get out of the restraints. Your skin was probably raw at how much you rubbed at the ropes. You wanted to beg him not to shoot your husband.. you even tried to. But it was pointless.

"Say goodbye to your wife... Lieutenant."

Time felt like it slowed down as you and Simon looked at each other. He looked angry and sad, but no doubt love. He loved you for everything you had given him, everything you had done for him. And if this was the last time he'd see you... then so be it. He was ready... and you didn't want that. You weren't ready to leave him; to say goodbye.

The wails that came from your muffled lips had you choking on the saliva that bubbled up in your throat. You wanted to vomit so bad.

"Close your eyes love," Simon told you. You didn't want to. God you didn't want to. But you couldn't stomach the thought of seeing him die right in front of you, so you shut your eyes tight and waited for the loud popping sound of Jax's gun to go off.

BANG!

The moment the loud pop echoed in the room, your eyes opened as you looked at the scene in front of you. And god, did you begin to wail as you saw your husband. He was slumped over in the chair. A bullet wound at his temple. Jax, who had taken a step toward you as he smiled, made you thrash in your restraints forcefully.

"When they find you... tell them Makarov said hello," he said as he snatched the tape off of your mouth. You couldn't help the loud cry that left your lips as you looked at him with pure hatred.

"Fuck you!!" you screamed, but it didn't even faze him.

He and the rest of the men walked out of the room, Andrei giving you a malicious wink before he shut the door. You couldn't help the loud cries that continued to come from your mouth as you sat there and looked at Simon.

He was dead.

God, you wanted to fucking die with him. The pain of knowing he was murdered all because of something that was bigger than this would haunt you forever.

20 minutes later, heavy footsteps rushed through the door, and you almost thought it was Jax and his men again until you realized that Price, Johnny, and Kyle had come in with their guns drawn.

But it was too late.

The moment they saw how distraught you were and looked at their comrade with his head hanging forward, they knew. The fucking knew that they were too late in rescuing both of you. Johnny kneeled down in front of Simon, putting his fore and middle finger against his neck to check for a pulse like he'd find one. "Fuck," he said as he looked up at the other two men.

Kyle rushed over to you and began to cut away at the ropes that tied you up, and the second you were free, you leaped out of the chair and ran to Simon, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cried. He was cold.. ice cold damn near, but you held onto him like he would somehow take a breath of air.

But you knew he wouldn't, yet you still continued until Price tried to pull you off of him.

"Y/n," he softly said.

"No!" you yelled, "He can't leave me! He can't- He's gotta come back. We have to work through this! Please John... please wake him up!"

Fuck.

His sad eyes eventually met yours as he frowned, "I'm so sorry."

************************************************************************

Someone once told you in the past to read about the 5 Stages of Grief. You thought it was silly. What did you have to grieve about, when all you wanted was to be happy with your husband? You didn't think about that kind of stuff, especially when it came to him. But hell, did you wish you had picked up on a few things at least.

Denial.

Even with Simon being taken away when the police and corners arrived, you still couldn't believe he was gone. It was like you were waiting for him to come out of every corner to surprise you - like he did at the club. The first couple of days were the worst, as you would call his phone only to hear it ring on the nightstand next to you. The day of the funeral, you almost passed out twice from how everything hurt (physically and emotionally).

Anger.

The anger that flowed through your soul was more than knowing Simon cheated on you. It was more than knowing you cheated on him. You wanted to kill Jax. You wanted to make him pay for taking the love of your life. But you knew that was a crazy thought. It still didn't stop you from breaking things in your apartment - the glass of wine you were drinking out of, the vase on the side table. Days after the funeral, you quit your job because you couldn't stomach the thought of leaving your house because you were afraid and angry that Jax or Andrei would kidnap you again.

Bargaining.

You had no one to bargain with except whatever angels were up above to bring your husband back. And bargaining, you did. You begged and begged and begged like it would make a difference. You had even bargained for the universe to take you instead of Simon; to switch places with you.

Depression.

The worst phase you felt. You wanted to die. You thought about it so many times. It didn't make you feel better when you continued to go to counseling - for different reasons now. You just wanted to be with your husband again. The plaguing thoughts of taking a bunch of pills and never waking up crossed your mind so much during that phase.

Acceptance.

When things finally settled - and fuck did it take a while for that to happen - the only thing that had changed was knowing Simon wasn't going to come back by some miracle. Every other day (if not every day), Price, Johnny, or Kyle would come to check on you, along with Ava, who constantly brought dinner just to make sure you would eat.

It was heartbreaking. Simon was gone. It wasn't like you two had gone through the divorce, but he was gone from you forever.

But what hurt the most was the note you found in your husband's belongings when Johnny brought them from his office. Even he felt weird that they had cleaned out his space there, saying it wasn't right.

It was crushing to read it, and you cried in Johnny arms for a long time that he ended up putting you to bed and calling Ava to stay with you because he had to leave.

The note was written a few days before you were kidnapped. Simon once again apologized for everything that he did, the pain he caused you, and the deep love he expressed to you. He went into detail about his feelings and how he would die for you if it ever came to it.. Fuck it was like he had predicted his own death or something.

Why did life have to be so fucking cruel? Why were things the way they were? Just because you had accepted that he was gone didn't mean you were ever going to be over it. But you could only hope that somewhere up in the skies he was watching over you.

Not going to lie.. this was hard to write because I teared up proofreading this but let me know how you all like it!!

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654 @jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @chloeforde @cownini @ssc7514

[0x-cinder]

Zoro and fem!reader are having a drinking contest and a barely sober reader ends up dancing with an arrogant stranger.

Trigger Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mild references to sex, non-detailed descriptions of vomiting.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

"I wasn't Jealous!"

"Give up, swordsman, you'll never beat me!" you exclaimed.

"No shot, Princess!" The swordsman barked, downing his third beer of the night, "There's no way I'm letting a woman out-drink me!"

With a determined look in your eye, you waved down the bartender and ordered your third drink, "Watch me."

Zoro laughed in response and followed your lead, requesting another beer.

The rules were simple—a drinking contest where the loser had to help Sanji with the dishes for a week. You didn't plan on losing, so you made sure to choose a punishment that Zoro would despise.

However, after watching you down your sixth drink of the night, Zoro began to think that accepting your challenge may have been a bad decision, especially because you started swaying just after the fourth round.

"Alright Princess," he said sternly, leaning in so that you could hear him over all the noise inside the busy tavern, "maybe you should call it quits for the night."

"I will do no such thing!" you exclaimed, shaking your head profusely, "not until you surrender!"

Zoro paused, weighed his competitive spirit against the thought of carrying you, blacked out, back to the Sunny…

It was a short walk to the docks. You'd be fine.

Taking his silence as a refusal to yield, you waved down the tired-looking bartender and ordered another round.

A few minutes later, you felt the sudden urge to use the restroom as seven rounds of drinks finally reached your bladder. You stood, steadying yourself against the bar.

"Be right back," you slurred to the swordsman before making your way across the tavern towards the lady's room, putting a great deal of effort into appearing as sober as possible.

Zoro chuckled as he watched you stumble away.

You joined the Strawhats three months ago when the crew docked in your hometown for supplies. Zoro and Luffy stopped for a drink at your father's bar after being chased by an angry shopkeeper for "scaring away paying customers." Luffy caught you scribbling a story on a napkin behind the bar and, after sneaking a peak at what you'd written, decided you'd be the crew's chronicler, responsible for documenting the Strawhat's "glorious adventures."

The swordsman didn't talk to you much at first, but he soon got used to your presence as his crow's nest became your favorite writing spot. He'd noticed that you'd stop writing to watch him train sometimes and found himself pushing harder to impress you. Then, after a close run-in with the Blackbeard Pirates, he convinced you to let him teach you how to wield a sword. His chances of losing you were significantly lower if you were armed.

The bartender slid a glass of water across the bar, snapping the green-haired man out of his thoughts.

"For your friend," he winked, "You'd better give up soon, the poor lass is going to drink herself sick."

The green-haired man figured the barkeep was probably right anddecided to "give up" for your sake once you returned. You'd probably be too hungover to remember it in the morning, anyway.

Yet, 5 more minutes passed. You still hadn't returned. Zoro let out an exasperated sigh, no way she got herself stuck in the bathroom he thought.

Zoro crossed the tavern floor and lifted his hand to knock on the bathroom door.

Before his knuckles hit the wood, however, the door swung open to reveal a woman who looked nothing like you. "Wrong one, handsome, the men's is over there," she said, gesturing towards a door down the hall.

Zoro didn't respond, too focused on soothing the mild panic rising in his chest. The woman gave him an odd look before maneuvering around him and disappearing into the crowd on the dance floor.

Where the fuck did she go? He thought, How on earth did I lose track of her?

The swordsman circled the tavern's main room, his anxiety growing with every face he spied that wasn't yours.

Just as he started to get the horrible feeling that you'd somehow left the bar without him noticing, he caught a glimpse of you near the center of the crowd of dancing bodies.

Eyes locked on your position, Zoro pushed through the crowd to find you dancing in the center of it all. His panic eased, relieved to have found you, but anger quickly took his place as he noticed the hands of an unfamiliar man wrapped around your waist, guiding your hips with his to the music, holding you too close for the swordsman's comfort.

The stranger spun you around, and your eyes met his. Your smile widened. "Zoro! There you are,∼" you shouted, pushing away from your dance partner and stumbling towards the swordsman, "I wondered where you'd gone!"

"Hey, you disappeared on me, Woman." Zoro argued, pushing his index finger against your forehead.

You took his hand and spun around, "Whatever. Come dance with me∼"

"I don't dance"

"C'mon∼" you snaked your arms around his neck, pushing yourself against him.

Zoro felt every inch of his body grow warmer at your touch; his mind ran blank for a moment before he reminded himself that he should probably get you home. He gently pushed you off of him, "You've had a lot to drink, maybe we should-"

"Don't waste your time with this killjoy, sweetheart," A voice sounded over your shoulder. Your dance partner appeared behind you, reaching for your left arm, which now hung loosely by your side. "Come hang out with the fun people∼"

Zoro couldn't stop the glare that spread across his features as the stranger gave your arm a slight tug, which, in your unstable state, was enough to make you stumble right into him. The man caught you, arms pressed tight around your waist to provide as much stability as he could without falling to the ground with you.

You gave him a sheepish smile. "oops, sorry."

"You're welcome to fall for me any time, darling." He winked.

Zoro felt rage start to seep back through his veins.

"Alright, princess, time to go. You're gonna hurt yourself and I promised Nami I'd return you in one piece," the swordsman said sternly, reaching for you.

The stranger leaned closer to Zoro, still holding you firm against him, "C'mon man, don't be a cockblock." He said with a smirk.

Zoro's blood reached its boiling point. Before he could stop himself, he swung his already clenched fist straight into the bastard's face, propelling him backward. You would have gone flying with him if Zoro hadn't caught your wrist and pulled you back.

Your stomach heaved at the sudden commotion, and the room spun as you hunched over and vomited, barely missing Zoro's right foot.

The swordsman didn't give you a chance to recover as your former dance partner stood back up, red in the face with anger and humiliation. Not to mention the bartender, who was making his way around the bar to catch whoever was disturbing the peace.

Zoro scooped you up and dashed out of the tavern. Of course, he would have loved to stay for the fight, but he didn't want to risk getting you caught in the middle of it, especially in your heavily intoxicated state.

Once he was certain no one was tailing you both, Zoro turned into an alleyway and set you down, where you proceeded to hurl the contents of your stomach onto the pavement. The green-haired man sighed and pulled your hair away from your face as he waited for you to finish.

Once your stomach was empty, you stood. Still a little dizzy, but at least the nausea had subsided.

"Better?" Zoro asked, removing his hand from your hair.

"Much better."

"You shouldn't dance with strange men." He chided.

"And you shouldn't punch people just because you're jealous."

Zoro felt his face flush. "I wasn't jealous, woman."

"Yeah you were." you teased, pointing a finger into his chest, "I was just having fun and you punched him because you were jealous." you smiled, drawing out the syllables in the word "jealous" just to tease him.

"Remind me never to let you have more than three drinks ever again."

"And remind me never to make you jealous again." you giggled.

"I was not!"

"Were too∼"

"Why would I care who you dance with!?"

"I don't know, you tell me∼"

"I can't because I don't!"

"Then why'd you punch him?"

"Because he just wanted to fuck you!"

You both went silent. You'd been so focused on the argument that you hadn't realized you'd been moving closer to Zoro with every retort.

You held his gaze and a devious grin spread across your lips, "And why does that bother you so much?"

Checkmate.

Zoro remained silent, but he didn't pull away from you. "I-" his eyes flickered down to your lips. For a second, you were sure he was going to kiss you.

"Forget it." He sighed, smelling the alcohol on your breath; kissing you while you were like this would make him no better than that bastard in the tavern. He started to back away, "You're drunk, you don't know what you're-"

"I'm sober enough to know you want to kiss me."

The swordsman froze, heat rushing to his face, "I-" he stuttered, looking away. Your eyes were tempting him, and he was desperately trying to keep his composure.

"Am I wrong?"

"You're drunk." He was so close you could feel his breath catch in his throat.

"But am. I. wrong?"

Unable to hold back any longer, the swordsman closed the gap between you, pushing his lips firmly against yours. Sparks of heat rushed through your body as you kissed him back, placing your hands on his chest as his came to rest on your hips.

The kiss started slow and sweet, almost cautious. You'd never seen Zoro treat anything as gently as he was treating you; it made your stomach flutter. You slid your hands up his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. He responded by snaking his hands around your waist and pulling you closer. His movements became more desperate as he pushed your body against the wall of the alleyway. You moved your hands into his mossy hair, and he groaned, pulling you tight against him as if you were going to disappear the moment he let go. You smiled against him and bit his bottom lip playfully. He went rigid for a moment before breaking the kiss.

"Slow down there, princess. I don't want-" he stumbled to find the right words. "I didn't mean to-"

You looked up at him expectantly.

He stepped back. "Fuck. I'm sorry." He took a deep breath and another step back, "I'm sorry."

"You're missing a crucial difference, swordsman." You hummed, ruffling his hair.

"What do you mean?"

"I actually want you."

He stood for a moment, stunned by your words, letting them sink in.

"You…want me?"

[shxxxbi]

EVERYTHING THAT WASN'T INCLUDED IN LOVE SEA THE SERIES 🌊

Episode 4 (Chapters: 12 - 14)

<-prev

Breaking a promise

Rak felt like shit here. He had called Mook to extend his stay but his secretary had refused sternly; so after Mut spent two nights pleading for him to stay, Rak tried to find an excuse to keep his promise. He considered telling his secretary that the manuscript wasn't finished, that he needed more time, even considered telling her all the boats had sunk and it was impossible for him to go back to the mainland. But in the end, he had no choice but to admit defeat. He felt terrible for breaking his promise to Mut, meanwhile the younger boy appeared almost unfazed. His face was "just the usual, totally normal one, with the usual smile and the same look. Not a hint of regret."

"If he didn't care, then why would I?"

So Rak picked up his phone and transfered Mut the money for "his services". Now more than ever, Tongrak was convinced that all that had happened between them was just sex. Mut sold his service and Rak had bought it. Nothing he hadn't already done before with other people...

...yet, Rak had "never felt this hollow"

How much would it cost for you to go to Bangkok with me?

That hollow feeling in Rak's chest kept expanding. Memories of the time spent together with Mut flashed through his mind until a sudden warmth urged him to move. Tongrak was confident in his decision, in asking Mut to go with him. However, he still insisted that what he was feeling was not love. That it was just personal pleasure. And if he could afford it, what was the problem?

"The guy sold his service anyway. Right?"

WHAT!!!??

She didn't like this man at all. That's what Mook kept telling herself when she saw the man her boss had brought back with him. He made her feel "as tiny as an ant". Mook had screamed so loud upon hearing what Rak had done, that the airport staff almost came over to ask what was wrong.

"Brought back, as in purchasing?! Are people buying and selling men now?!"

I don't trust you

Mook wanted to back down the moment she met eyes with Mut. She wasn't familiar with men at all, the only men she was close with were her family members and Rak. Mut intimidated her, with his big body and his dark and scary face, so much so it made her want to cry. But no one could be trusted this days, what if this man assaulted Rak? What if he stabbed her boss with a knife in his sleep?

"She had to protect Rak!"

Mut, on the other hand, found her amusing. She was so small, he could "probably blow her away with a puff". But he was never one to bully someone weaker, so he turned to Rak.

"What should i do? If I show respect, she won't back down. But if you tell me to handle her, this little lady won't stand a chance."

Little Trivia: Rak's house

Contrary to the show, Rak's house is on the 27th floor of a very luxurious condo complex in the heart of Bangkok. It has 3 bedrooms, with the main one featuring a large wall window that offered a wonderful view of the bustling streets below. As for the other two bedrooms, one is a guest bedroom and the other one a study crammed with books. As for the kitchen, it is entirely made of Italian marble and has, basically, never been used.

Bro, are you crazy?!

This phone call actually happens after Rak and Mook have already set off to work. Mook had been waiting outside the door to Rak's house as soon as the sun was up, too terrified to enter on her own and find the two men fucking in the living room, so she waited for Mut to let her in. After the secretary and her boss had left, Mut gets a call from Palm. The younger boy kept shouting and calling him crazy, but Mut knew very well what he was doing. Many people would describe him as very mature for his age, but Mut knew he still tended to act childish at times. Just like he had done now. Following a man to the mainland with no plan whatsoever, simply because he was unwilling to let him go. Mahasamut knew that their paths would most likely never cross again, this was the only opportunity he had to keep Tongrak close. And he would not let it go.

Little Trivia pt.2: Mahasamut's age

Mut's age is never explicitly confirmed in the novel, however thanks to Khom we can figure it out. In "Love Sand", the story of Khom and Connor meeting and falling in love takes place when Khom is 19 years old. Many characters of Love Sea appear as side characters, including Palm and Mut. Palm is described as a boy around 17 years old, while Mut is "a few years older than him and around Khom's age". Fast forward to Love Sea (that chronologically takes place a while after the events of Love Sand), Mut describes Khom as his "younger close friend and brother". Also, in the prologue of Love Sea, Tongrak tells us that Khom is a decade younger than him. Since Rak is about to turn 31 and the two boys are around the same age, with Mut being apparently slightly older, Mahasamut should be around 21-22 years old, making the age gap between Mutrak around 9 or 10 years!

DISCLAIMER🚨: I have not read Love Sand, all the infos I have written come from people I know that have read it. Therefore, I apologize if something is incorrect🙇🏽‍♀️

Can you read the report and understand it?

Fortunately for Mook, Mahasamut had decided to go to the hospital alone and not drag her along. Said report was currently being examined by Tongrak and poor Mook couldn't help but wonder why her boss was smiling like that. How could a report make him so happy? She didn't understand anything of what was written, she didn't know a thing about STDs. How could she, she had never even had sex with anyone. Her confusion faded when Mahasamut explained he was clean, only to be quickly replaced by embarrassment at his next words.

"Maybe next time we can skip the rubber. I promise I'll pull out"

Yet, nothing could prepare her for Rak's answer

"Who said you have to?"

Mut kept teasing Mook for a while after that, while Rak observed them in the distance

"They get along very well. This is nice. The room isn't quiet anymore."

What if I say I won't agree to it?

Mut read the contents of the contract: Tongrak would provide him sixty thousand bahts monthly as compensation and cover all of his living expenses, including housing, food and even education, if he wished to pursue it. However, Mut had obligations as well: not disturbing Rak during working hours, not doing anything Tongrak disliked and, most of all, their relationship would end immediately at the writer's discretion. There was no love, nor commitment included. Mahasamut had to supress a growl in his throat. He disliked what Rak was doing, disliked how he was treating their relationship as if there was nothing but sex between them, nothing but money. But he knew this was the only opportunity he had to get close to Tongrak and he couldn't let it slip away, even if he wouldn't have much time. So, all he could do was clench his fists and hide his thoughts with a perfectly fine smile.

So, you're saying you can love me, Khun Tongrak?

Being very fair-skinned, when all his blood rushed to his face, Rak easily turned a bright red that let everyone know he was blushing. And Mut's words had him blushing hard. Tongrak had experienced every kind of flirtation imaginable from both men and women, but just a few words from Mut were enough to leave him speechless. Had the younger boy not read the contract? Had he not realized there was no emotional attachment between them, only money? How could he be so brazen in asking for love? But, most of all, why the hell did Rak's heart skip a beat?!

Vivi was very impressed by the island boy. She knew there must have been something special between them if Rak had brought him home; just as she knew how much her friend deeply craved for someone's love, even if he refused to admit it.

"You can just call me Vi, no prefix needed. And if Rak ever dumps you, just come to Big Sis. I like you."

"That might be difficult," Mut declined, "I won't let myself get dumped so easily"

And Mahasamut had never been more serious. He wouldn't let Tongrak drift away from him.

"I didn't say you could come in" "But you didn't say I couldn't come in either"

Here Mut actually enters Rak's room and sits on his bed, while the older man is busy playing on his phone. Unable to ignore Mut's gaze any longer, Rak put his phone down and looked up at him.

"That's better. Didn't anyone tell you that when you talk, you should make eye contact with the person you're talking to?"

Finally they talk about the contract, about their conversation downstairs and about how Rak doesn't believe in love, and this all but puts a sad smile on Mut's face. So, the younger boy reaches out to hold Rak's hand and intertwine their fingers.

"I know you don't believe in love, but I never said that I don't [...], you can't stop me from loving you."

Tongrak was at a loss for words. Confusion was written all over his face. He had never dealt with a situation like this before. He had never met anyone who said they'd love him.

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻

THIS. THIS IS THE MOMENT I HAD BEEN WAITING FOR.

In the novel, this does NOT happen. Or, better said, it is not a kiss on the lips. It's a kiss on Rak's temple. Now, why am i putting so much emphasis on this, you might be asking. I think this is another masterpiece of improv by our ship captain Khun Thitipong. In the novel, there is A LOT of emphasis on the fact that Mut desperately wanted to kiss Rak's lips but, since he had just made a very important speech about pursuing Rak and making him change his mind about love, Mahasamut decided that he couldn't give in to his desire. He wanted the words he had just said to embed themselves in Rak's heart. To make Rak think about him, about them, as more than just what happens in bed, and that is something that would take time. So kissing his lips had to wait. Now, after making this such a big thing, I don't think Mame would just suddenly change her mind for the show. Therefore, if 1+1 is 2 and the shit-eating grin on Fort's face and Peat's eyes are anything to go by, I assume Thitiwhipped decided to take matters into his own hands. Also, it seems Peat hinted at this himself in the reaction video for episode 4: after watching the kiss scene, Peat himself asks Fort if the kiss was scripted or just his improvisation.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk 🫳🏽🎤

[hotvintagepoll]

Marjorie Main (The Women, Summer Stock)—a world weary dame who wore her midwestern accent on her sleeve. marjorie main kills it as a reno ranch owner in "the women" (1939) and as warm mother hens <3 she was no shabby actor either! this scene with her and humphrey bogart fucking haunts me [link]

Zero Mostel (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, The Producers)—Archetypal. Comedian of all time. The worst combover in cinematic history, probably. Could make more laughter with one muscle in a singular eyebrow than 98% of all men across the face of the earth. Hardcore Committer to the Bit. Man of all time, and also told HUAC directly where they could shove it, which is a primally appealing and scrungly quality.

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Marjorie Main:

Zero Mostel:

"The chase scene in FORUM is just. it's fucking iconic. It's one of the funniest pieces of cinema I've ever seen in any context, everything about it is genius, and the heart and soul of it is Zero Mostel as Pseudolus. Casting him alongside a young Michael Crawford (of later Phantom of the Opera fame) really highlights the differences between the young romantic lead and the older, sensible, and yet entirely scrungly middle aged man (Mostel was 55 at the time) somehow manages to come off as even more desirable. He has no shit together, not very good plans, is panicked for most of the story, and the charisma of a champ. His flailing, helpless attempts at fighting the gladiator is so... he's so scrungly. "

"He's not fancy, he's not pretty, he's not good at much of anything, but he is Genius despite that."

"There is a magic to Zero Mostel that he manages to bring to roles where he is simultaneously the worst person ever, and also, compelling in every possible way. He had his biggest period of fame in middle age after he got taken off the Hollywood blacklist, and being a fat middle aged man with thinning hair is what gives every single bit of his characters power. As the original Max Bialystock he would eat the entirety of The Producers except that Gene Wilder as Leo Bloom is a genius casting decision, as Mostel's intensity against Wilder's deep discomfort ends up being the right chemistry. In many ways he reminds me of Buster Keaton, the pinnacle of hot scrungly little guy—a unique and expressive face, an instinctive understanding of comedy, active at the same time, and also they were both in FORUM together. Mostel came from an Orthodox Jewish family, was a trained painter with a degree in art, spoke four languages, and when he was blacklisted during the Red Scare and brought before the HUAC, he didn't just refuse to name names, he made fun of the senators. He was disabled after an accident, and still did dancing in movies and things like stunts in FORUM. He did a ton of work on Broadway too, including originating Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, making the musical more Jewish as he did so. Frankly, I don't think any of those roles (or the eventual later film versions of Fiddler/musical version of the Producers) would work with anyone else. It had to be a fat balding middle aged leftist Jew from Brooklyn. The scrungly is essential.

"the scrungle factor of max in every version of the producers is through the roof but nathan lane does it as suave scrungle. zero mostel does not do suave scrungle. he does old jewish man getting into an argument with the rabbi at the full synagogue passover seder about how much wine has to be in the glass for it to count as "one cup" scrungle; he does old jewish man whose entire fridge is full of pickled herring scrungle. it's offputting in all the ways that make it genius."

[dragon-ashes1485]

TROP s2 ep7. A rant.

Firstly, this episode has been such a joy to watch, secondly, my heart rate is concerning.

Galadriel:

I loved the scene where she was in the cage, completely ready to die, because she wants to make things right. The scene with Celebrimbor was fantastic, at any moment I expected it to actually be Sauron, but the gentle way she talks to him and held his face like a child broke my heart. Phenomenal acting on both sides and the music was also amazing. Her kindness towards Arondir broke me. Her advising him against seeking out Adar was pure irony given her hunt against Sauron.

Galadriel sneaking around in that orc cloak was so stressful, even though we know she lives.

She seems kinder than in previous episodes, perhaps a result of no longer being around the ring? Or maybe she's just realising everything is going wrong. Either way, can't wait to see where her character goes next.

Elrond:

This guy. I loved how at first he looked ready for battle, but that he was also terribly afraid. But something seemed to switch in his character when his horse was killed and his pure anger there really shocked me. Also absolute savage for sending that orc flying.

I would like to take a moment to admire that he pauses to briefly mourn his horse.

The stunts that he performed are insane in this episode, and I love how Arondir keeps him safe throughout the later part of the battle.

"Durin will come" was such an important part to me, Elrond really looks like a young boy, as if he were sat on the beach during the third kinslaying again. I think the way that was portrayed was breathtaking.

And how he sits, looking up at Adar, completely ready to give in, broke me, he is utterly defeated. He has been abandoned once more (I know there were reasons but that's probably how Elrond feels). He then tries to stab Adar, but it is clear from where he aims for that he doesn't want to kill Adar, he wants to hurt him. His sigh when Adar got the ring kind of made me laugh, he's so done with all this crap.

I can't wait to see the aftermath of this.

Minor characters:

Camnir: so glad he was not in this episode or I would have cried.

Vorohil: please let this guy live. I will be sad.

Rian: I am sad. But absolute props to her for that savage arrow in her final moments.

Narvi: he just watched his kin be killed by his own king...let Narvi be ok.

Celebrimbor:

Ow. I hurt. Charles Edwards is an absolute gem, no he may not "look right" for Celebrimbor, but his potrayal of Celebrimbors descent was amazing.

Also, props to the set team for the scene where the forge transforms into its true state.

He tries so hard to fight against Sauron, he literally cuts his own thumb off. His own. Thumb. And when he's caught by the guards, he tries so hard to explain. I was so scared they'd just hand him back to Sauron until Galadriel showed her face.

I feel like I need to mention Mirdania. She was another product of Sauron's deception. Her death was horrifying and...I just can't even. Her naivety to believe "Annatar" about Celebrimbor, a man she greatly admired, was so sad, and then for her to spend her last moments believing that Celebrimbor had killed her? Ouch.

Celebrimbor tried so hard to escape, only to do what a true lord of Eregion would do, return to the only place he could protect it from, and the place he had just escaped. His bravery really shines through, and in the end it is he who comforts Galadriel.

ps: shot on the left is fantastic.

Sauron:

Still a bitch. But now with Darth Vader powers for some reason. Probably about to destroy Alderaan. I have no more to say.

Adar:

Yea I'm expecting a full orc rebellion next episode. He doesn't care as much as he did about his children which is why they were loyal to him in the first place. Glûg stayed behind when the others went to fight so I think that says a lot. It'll be interesting to see where that goes. I also hate him now because Arondir.

Durin:

Durin's speech was so middle-earthy I loved it. And then it goes to shit. I love that he got Narvi on side. The scene where he sees Elrond again means so much to me, there has not been enough of these two in this series and I really hope ep8 rectifies that, particularly after what happened (or rather, didn't happen) on the battlefield.

I love that Durin admires Elrond's new hair, as he should, it is fabulous. ALSO WHERE IS DISA. I swear if Disa dies, then I do too.

Look at this dwarf in his element. Also eff his dad, his dad is a prick.

He's really starting to come into his own, fighting against the evil. And you can see later how much his father's actions hurt him because not only does it mean he can't aid Eregion, but his father has killed dwarves. His own kind.

Amazon, please be kind to Durin next episode.

Gil-Galad:

Not much to say except from look at this boi in all his regalia. Love it when you see a monarch actually in the fighting, makes you like them. Especially as Gil-Galad has not been the most likeable chap this series.

Arondir:

Anyone needs me, I will be crying. That's all I have to say.

Overall thoughts on episode:

Battle sequence was 10/10. The effort put into this show amazes me. Fantastic acting from everyone, namely Charles Edwards, Charlie Vickers, Robert Aramayo and Morfydd Clark (ok fine, everyone). Well done to all the stunt horses as well, such good horses. Bear McCreary's soudntrack shone this episode, including so many characters themes. Also the last ballad of Damrod in the credits!

I am both anticipating and dreading next episode. What will happen with Celebrimbor? And what of Khazad-Dum? How will Adar use the ring? And will we need a box of tissues?

[ghostradiodylan]

Probably a lukewarm take, but other than the (lack of an) ending, the Laura and Ryan scenes are some of the worst written and conceived parts of The Quarry.

And this is completely separate from whether Ryan is interested in Dylan (he is, but that's another post and not important to this rant) or Kaitlyn; even if Ryan had no other potential relationships in the game, even if Laura wasn't practically married to Max, wearing his ring around her neck the entire time they're talking, it still would feel flat to me because nothing about it is earned.

Laura is on a killing spree with the single-minded goal of saving Max. She genuinely believes the only way to do that is to kill Chris Hackett. Even if you've made her argue with Max to the extent that they can, they're still a strong unit when she goes out to solve this werewolf thing once and for all. Even if you don't believe in love think their relationship would survive all this trauma, she deeply believes she owes it to him to rescue him, that is her entire guiding ethos during the game.

Ryan is going with her to try to keep that from happening because Chris has been his friend and mentor for years. We know Ryan has an absent mother, unmentioned father, and a potentially turbulent family life, and he's been coming to HQSC for so long that it feels like home to him, that Chris and his kids feel like family. Laura has already killed Kaylee. Even if Ryan completely bought into the werewolf thing by now, that would be a tough pill for him to swallow, given his reaction to her death.

Then, they fall in the titular Quarry and suddenly have the option to express a completely unearned sort of camaraderie with each other. Why is Laura asking Ryan about his love life in the first place? The question about him being single makes sense as a dig, but it doesn't make any sense for her to ask about him being a 'brooding and mysterious loner' because... she hasn't actually seen him do anything brooding or mysterious? How did she even get that impression? If Laura's got some kind of borderline psychic intuition then this is really the worst possible use of that ability--she should have foreseen her need to go to that motel and stay the fuck out of locked storm shelters instead.

It doesn't make a lick of sense for her to say that Kaitlyn looks up to him either. She hasn't seen that. Hell, we as players haven't even seen that! Kaitlyn seems generally tolerant of but unimpressed by Ryan. She has the option to be impatient with him multiple times and even get the chyron that she's ‘losing respect’ for him if he suggests she take the gun and go after Nick instead. This seems like an objectively good idea, since she's a much better shot than Ryan, a fact which the game keeps telling us despite refusing to give her a gun until the last possible second, though maybe the concern is that she'd have to drag Nick back to the campfire herself. (Honestly, I think Kaitlyn could do it, I think she's like a mighty ant who can lift many times her own weight, but that's not what this post is about.)

Ryan, for his part, shouldn't really be willing to talk about any of this with Laura either. He canonically doesn't even want to talk to his coworkers about his animation school decision (in the office scene with Dylan and at the campfire with Emma if you choose truth like a lunatic) and he's known them for at least two months, if not for years attending the same camp. But he met Laura a few hours ago and is suddenly willing to spill his guts about who he does or doesn't have a crush on and who does/doesn't have 'the hots' for him, despite the only experience they have together being her leaving his friend of several years dead facedown in a pool and expressing a strong desire to kill his father figure? I simply do not buy it.

I'm not sure if this was supposed to go along with the relationship system that they scrapped or what (there's not a single shred of Ryan and Laura stuff in the datamine that I've been able to find), but all it really serves to do is muddy the waters by trying to force some level of intimacy on Ryan and Laura before the big confrontation at the Hackett House. But that confrontation itself should have been the thing that forged that intimacy between them and allowed them to go on to fight Silas together.

Overall, I think it's a major sign that the back third of the game got a very rushed and, frankly, bad chop job (which we know is true) and that they struggled to tie the resulting loose threads off in a way that made any kind of narrative sense. It's a shame, because the writing in The Quarry is actually way better than most people give it credit for, it just wasn't allowed to pay off in a lot of ways that clearly were intended.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin, Part 4

Warning: alcohol, graphic description of a bipolar crash and panic attack (or, at least how I experience them). Please take care of yourselves and don't read if you think it might trigger you. Much love to my fellow rapid-cyclers. 💚

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Stepping into the foyer, the soft darkness envelopes him. Holding the door gently, he makes a futile attempt to mitigate the screaming hinges, before giving up and just closing the damn thing.

He's tired. It feels like he's been running a marathon, and as far as the exhausted muscle in his chest is concerned, he has. It's been pounding like a god damn drum, nonstop, for hours.

If you asked him, he couldn't tell you a word that was said during the ceremony. You'd consumed his senses, filled them completely. He only looked away from you once, to fumble in his pocket for the ring, otherwise he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over every inch of you. He caught your scent on the evening wind, and the spinning in his chest turned faster.

He tried to hold onto his thoughts, but they ripped from his grasp as they started to spiral. He clenched his jaw, he had to hold it together. He was the Best Man at his best friend's wedding and he had shit he was responsible for. But his mind has always been a bigger beast than he is.

Look at her.

Fuck, she's beautiful.

She's perfect.

Your kind of perfect.

This will never be you, you know.

Freak.

Unwanted.

If you were human, you'd be together already.

If you were human, you'd probably be engaged by now.

Why does she waste her time on you?

All you do is drag her down.

Chain her to the sewers when she should be living a real life.

With a real person.

Why?

Why do you do that?

Why are holding her prisoner just so you can feel better about yourself?

He couldn't hear past the rush in his ears, but he was vaguely aware that there was cheering around him. Then you'd turned to look at him, smiling like the sun, and the answer crashed over him like a violent wave.

You're a monster.

He stops just short of the sitting room, eyes closing and jaw clenching, as the memory floods him.

You'd turned to him and smiled and for one moment everything stopped. You were the only thing that existed in the universe. You *were* the universe.

That's when he hit the wall.

A sharp inhale was the only outward indication of the crash. But inside, he was screaming.

You're light streaked through his veins like fire along saltpetre. Burning away all pretense. No matter how much he wanted, no matter how much he needed, he would never be more than this. He could dance with you, sing with you, laugh and cry with you, but he could never ever love you.

Unacceptable.

Unworthy.

Unloved.

The guests in attendance began to disperse, while the bridal party stuck around for pictures. Through the smoke haze he could see very little, and could hear equally as well, though his body seemed to know what it was doing. He had no choice but to trust it.

His heart was pounding, and he's pretty sure at some point Casey thanked him, but his only thought by that point was to get away from everyone.

As soon as there was an opening, his body excused itself and made for the house. He was winded by the time he reached the side opposite the party, the panic attack threatening to consume him.

He put a hand on the wall, leaning against it with his head down, trying to breathe through the burning. His hand flexed and the antique wood siding of the house cracked under his fingers. He ripped his hand away, scalded.

You destroy everything you touch.

He'd stumbled backward, staring at the spiderweb cracks left behind by his fingers, a dry sob escaping him.

What hope does she have?

Eyes closed tight, he balled his hands into fists and pushed everything down. Get it together, he'd berated himself, you still have shit to do.

Three deep shuddering breaths and then he could breathe evenly. He locked the panic down tight and opened his eyes. It would hit him later, and twice as hard, but this was more important. Just a few more hours.

The reception was a blur of flashing light and discordant sound, and he avoided you for most of it. Or tried to, anyway. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape you.

Four separate times you had hunted him down and begged him to dance with you. And as the champagne flowed, and the night spun on, you became harder to avoid.

"Boo!" you said, peeking around the bar at him, grinning. Your cheeks were flushed pink from drink and dancing, and your scent wrapped around him with the night air. He tightened his jaw and tried not to breathe.

"Yoooouuuuuu've... been avoiding me," you accused, slinking around the wall, practically lying against it.

"Busy," he rumbled, starting to mix a drink for no one, and not looking at the siren calling to him.

"Oh come on, Red," you'd pouted, standing up from the wall, "The night's almost over and you haven't danced with me once." You walked over to him "Please? You've been working this whole time, come have some fun. I promise the reception won't fall apart without you." You teased, placing a hand on his forearm.

He froze the moment you touched him. He was shaking and he prayed to anyone who would listen that you wouldn't notice. The last thing he needed was you knowing that something was wrong. you cared about him too much, and your knee-jerk would be to fix it.

His hand tightened around the high ball and Mike popped his head around the corner like a god damn superhero, "Hey, they need you for the bouquet toss."

"Okay, one sec," you replied, and he disappeared again. "Please try and have *some* fun tonight?" You squeezed his arm gently, before letting go.

When you removed your hand his skin burned, and it wasn't until you were out of sight that he risked breathing again. He'd set down the glass, braced himself on the bar, and closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the cracks in the glass where he'd been gripping it too hard. He drew a deep breath.

He wasn't going to make it.

Snatching the bottle and leaving the broken glass, he made for the house. He skirted the perimeter of the reception, trying to be as inconspicuous as a 6'5, 350lb, bipedal turtle dressed in a tux can be.

He heard the countdown and made the mistake of looking over as April's bouquet flew through the air. You weren't even trying, you were talking, but, as if the Gods were punishing him, it had landed in your hands anyway, and he felt his pounding heart clench.

He watched as one of the other guests came up to you and placed a very human hand on your arm, presumably asking you to dance.

It will never be you.

He turned and continued toward the house until he heard familiar clumsy footsteps coming up the hill behind him.

"Hey, where's the fire, Red? Oops!" You'd said, giggling as you nearly tripped.

Your voice pierced him like an arrow, pinning him in place. He tried to take a deep breath as quietly as he could, but you've always been too good at reading him and asked if he was okay.

You'd persisted when he tried to brush you off, and he'd come up with some excuse. The longer you stayed there with him, the faster his resolve was crumbling, and he didn't want to fall apart in front of you. This was not your problem, and there was no point in runining your night, or your friendship.

He attempted to sidestep you, and you'd brushed against his arm. Your touch seared him, and reflex caught your wrist in his hand. For the first time in hours he met your gaze.

Disgusting.

Unworthy.

Why? Why make him this way? Why give him the ability to fall in love at all if he wasn't allowed to? What kind of cruel bastard...

Your wrist flexed in his hand and you looked up at him with an expression that said, I'm here. Whatever it is, I'm here. It's a familiar look, and it brought him back to himself. You're always the one he runs to. Now he was running away.

He dropped your hand, muttering an apology and fled without another word, leaving you behind.

Heart hammering in his chest, he nearly stumbled with the force of it. He made it to the other side of the house and collapsed, a wave crashing over him. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning, pulling in air, and getting nothing except dizzy.

On his knees, hands pressed to the ground beneath, it felt like his shell was crushing him. He maneuvered himself to sitting on the cold slate tiles, pulling his knees up to his chest.

There were no more words inside his head, only screaming, and he squeezed his eyes shut, and gripped his head tight, begging for it to stop. Some vague part of him was aware that he was crying, but any thoughts were swept up into the vortex inside of him.

The panic attack held him, shackled to his faults, for seventeen minutes, but it could have been a year. By the time he finally felt it begin to subside, he was exhausted and trembling.

He'd retrieved the bottle of whiskey that had rolled under the nearby bench, and, with great effort, managed to pull himself onto it. He'd held onto the bench to steady himself, before opening the bottle and drinking nearly half of it.

He remained there until his father found him.

He takes another deep breath, exhaustion seated heavy, like a stone in his chest, and rests a hand on the wall beside him. He needs sleep. He continues to make his way toward his room at the back of the house, passing by the open archway to the sitting room.

Where he finds you.

...

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look to me down

Assassin - Sultan + Shepherd

...

Tag List:

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll

[antianakin]

What Anakin would have done to Padme if he found out that she had helped plant the seeds of the Rebel Alliance? (Based on ROTS's deleted scenes).

I don't think Padme WAS actually planting any seeds of a rebellion* (clarification on that below the cut), but I do think Anakin would basically VIEW it as equivalent to Padme starting a rebellion because, to him, loyalty to the Republic and loyalty to Palpatine are the same thing. His reaction to discovering this probably depends on at what point he finds out about it.

When we first see the Loyalists in the ROTS deleted scene, it's clear that this is a work that's been in progress for a whille, so Anakin could have theoretically discovered her actions prior to the events of ROTS. Anakin is loyal to Palpatine, so I don't think he'd be HAPPY about her choices at any point and he'd definitely try to talk her out of it initially. If we take his actions in the Clovis 2.0 arc as canon, then you can easily make the assumption that he could get very demanding and even violent towards her but he probably wouldn't go so far as to actually threaten her life. He might threaten to tell Palpatine, though, and that'd likely be the end of the Loyalists.

Now let's say he finds out at the beginning of ROTS, after he and Padme reunite but before Order 66. Anakin is literally days away from genocide here, days away from strangling Padme because he thinks she's betrayed him to Obi-Wan, so he can't exactly be called emotionally stable. We also know that Anakin would not take the information that she's actively committing treason against the Chancellor WELL because there's a scene in the film where Padme tries to point out that the Council might be right about Palpatine being corrupt and Anakin shuts her down. If he hasn't yet gotten the hints from Palpatine about Padme being unfaithful and untrustworthy, then he'd likely get it the minute he brought this information to Palpatine, and that could lead to violence against Padme. He MIGHT be able to hold himself back, but Anakin's pretty unstable for this entire time period, so even if he hasn't committed to being a Sith yet, the chances that he becomes violent towards Padme if he discovers something like this are pretty high, though he still probably won't be attempting to kill her yet.

If the discovery happens after Order 66 but before the confrontation on Mustafar (not sure at what point this would happen, it would have to be that night when he comes back to her for about 2 minutes I guess), we know what happens. It's exactly what happens on Mustafar. Anakin is immersed in darkness now and Padme pushing back on his choices, Padme seeming to reject him, pushes Anakin to kill her. There's no other way that that ends.

I don't think Anakin trusts Padme all that much even at the best of times, and I think Anakin's very black and white view of the world makes him so loyal to the Republic (and Palpatine by proxy) that if someone questions Palpatine, he assumes they're a traitor to the whole Republic. He can't even conceive of lying to Palpatine or withholding information from him because, to Anakin, this is equivalent to going against the Republic itself. Anakin's version of Padme that exists in his head is perfectly loyal no matter what, she HAS to be, so he won't accept anything else from her. If he discovered she'd betrayed Palpatine, it would be seen as a betrayal of the Republic and a betrayal of his trust in her. And I don't ever see that going well for Padme even if it doesn't immediately end with Anakin deciding to murder her.

So, TL;DR, Anakin would react badly to this revelation no matter what, but HOW badly he reacts and how quickly he resorts to violence likely depends on how early Anakin discovers this.

*Padme's not INTENTIONALLY planting the seeds of a rebellion. You can only claim that because her ACTUAL goal ultimately fails and Palpatine creates an Empire and Bail Organa is able to utilize some of the connections they made to get support for his rebellion. The goal of the Loyalists during ROTS is ONLY to take out Palpatine as the leader of the Republic somehow. It's considered treason against their leader, which is why they have to be secretive about it, but it's not really a rebellion. They're certainly not trying to take out the entire government nor are they actually rebelling against the Republic as a whole. Palpatine has just made himself so powerful that their usual avenues for removing current leadership and gaining new leadership are no longer available, so they have to go for alternative options.

[reverieblondie]

The Dark Prince: Chapter 2, First Night in Waldemar

Paring- Dark Prince Rolan x Blessed Princess F!Tav

Warnings- 18+ MDNI, will include violence and smut, and two pinning idiots. (In this chapter... we get steamy...) Fingering, clothes ripping, Scent kink, Unprotected sex. Its the first night in Waldemar

Summary: Two carriages arrive to Waldemar... and the couples first night as husband and wife begins.

A/N: I want to give a huuuggggeeeee thank you to @sav-not-tav and @vera-king-hrfl for sending me some Rolan gifs and Screenshots for me to use for this series! I will be giving them a shotout every chapter, this one is from Sav! Thank you my lovely! Another huge thank you to my Sweet Anon for helping me with writing and editing this story! If you love anything Astarion says its because of them! they have nailed his characterization and have helped me soo much with this story!

<- Chapter 1 The Union

Though this is the night that many young lovers dream of after they have spoken their sweet promises to one another… when your wedding, your union is a tactical arrangement. One of political gain, it can turn a night meant for romance into a night of lines drawn in the sand as two people get to know each other for the first time.

The two newlyweds were not in particularly chatty moods. After all, what was there for them to say—what was there for any of them to say? Congratulations or condolences?

Before being able to resume reading, Tav had spent the first little while of the trip trying to convince Shadowheart and Lae'zel that she wasn't insulted by the actions of her now-husband. The newly made Queen was only met with a suspicious stare from her lady-in-waiting and a scoff from her knight that such a weak lie was beneath her. Eventually, Tav conceded in a hushed voice that yes, fine, perhaps she was a tad insulted; this was quickly followed by slightly more insistent whispers that the githyanki could put her sword down as it was still unnecessary.

All the while, Tav could hear her other knight and the older armored tiefling, General Zevlor, talking amongst themselves from where the two men sat outside, taking turns steering the horses that pulled them along. Tav couldn’t help but smile as Wyll went from merely swapping polite small talk with the general to hearing them exchanging hearty laughs and pleasant words. Wyll always makes getting to know people look so easy and effortless… maybe she could learn to be as charismatic, might make getting to know the King easier. 

In Rolan’s carriage, the new King largely kept his gaze turned towards the outside, his eyes skimming whatever part of the landscape he could see for the lights of Waldemar’s capital. Sitting across from him, the two vampiric elves chortled between each other, showing off the silver, pearls, and ornate rings they each had swiped from the various wedding attendees. The newly made King knew he probably should have frowned at those associated with him acting in such a matter, but he found it hard to bring himself to care about such things, so he simply didn’t bother. Rolan barely paid it any mind as the two vampire spawn continued trying to one-up each other, only briefly interjecting if their banter began to tip into bickering or if they snapped at Aurelia when she tried to do the same as she steered the carriage, as his mind was preoccupied with more important matters. More than once, he caught himself drumming his fingers or tapping the end of his tail against the padded seats as he impatiently waited to return.

The two well-made carriages made good time; the no-man’s-land between Sivailon and Waldemar rarely suffered from bandits thanks to Halsin and the other druids who lived there. While the travelers and the smaller settlements of Waldemar would still have to deal with the occasional raids from wandering marauders, there was nobody foolish enough to try waylaying the Dark Prince—the Dark King. Not anymore.

Tav eventually finished her pre-wedding reading, leaving the new Queen with little to do but wait. She had known that things would not completely change in a handful of hours, but she had hoped to have gotten the chance to establish even the smallest amount of rapport with her new husband and co-ruler; there was only so much one could learn from reading, especially when most material she could find on Waldemar was about the... previous rulers... and thus was potentially out of date.

She supposes she could ask General Zevlor her questions, but as she listened to Wyll and the older tiefling continuing to converse amicably and even levity...

No, Tav decided, I can’t do that to him.

She knew Wyll would have removed himself from the conversation in a heartbeat to make way for her, but she also knew more than just her own life was changing this night; Wyll, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel’s daily lives were all changing so that they might stay by her side in a new kingdom. No matter how willingly they came, the least she could do for her friends was to allow them the opportunity to forge connections of their own the way Wyll was doing now.

The way she wished she could be doing right now...

For now, Lae’zel seemed content to keep her piercing gaze trained outside, watching the landscape pass by. Shadowheart was quick to notice when Tav began to grow restless. It wasn’t long before the cleric started discussing what she knew regarding the caravans meant to transport their personal effects to Waldemar palace over the next several weeks. Lae’zel would occasionally chime in to point out a few naturally formed landmarks or potential hazards once they were well beyond the ill-defined boundaries of the no-man’s-land of the druids and the kingdom of Waldemar. Tav gratefully accepted the distraction her friends offered.

Eventually, in what felt like no time, Lae’zel alerted the two Selûnites of the lights from Waldemar’s capital city, which were now barely visible in the distance.

Both carriages slowed to a stop, and Tav heard the sound of moving armor as General Zelvor once again relinquished the reins to Wyll. The older Tiefling made his way to the carriage door.

Gathering the skirts of her dress in one hand, Tav gratefully accepted the general’s offer of a gauntleted hand to help her down. When she looked towards her husband’s carriage, she was nearly startled upon seeing how close the three vampire spawn had gotten; the pale, elfin man was already leaning against the carriage wheel she had just exited, and the other two were not far behind.

How had they moved so quickly without making a sound?!

The vampire leaning against the carriage raised a hand as if to shoo aside a squire, “If the moon princess would be so kind as to make way...”

A flash of embarrassment shook Tav out of her brief stupor—at least, she hoped it had been brief—and she swiftly stepped away from the carriage door. Her nerve-weary mind didn’t even register what the vampire had said until she saw the angry expressions of Lae’zel and Shadowheart looking out of the carriage to glare at the elf as he sauntered over to the threshold.

“So which of you lucky ladies gets to aid me into the carriage?” the pale elf crooned as if speaking to a pair of swooning maidens.

Shadowheart schooled her expression into one cold scorn, “Keep talking like that, and perhaps we will leave you to walk the rest of the way.”

 "Touchy, touchy, darling." the vampire tsked, "Didn't you see the wedding? We're all supposed to be friends now."

Tav could still hear the verbal barbs the two groups exchanged, even though she couldn’t make out the words by the time General Zevlor was helping the new Queen into her husband’s carriage. As she settles beside her co-ruler, she thinks she hears a blitter scoff from the Dark King. When she looks towards him, she only glimpses the glow of his eyes for a moment before he’s looking out the window again towards the lights of Waldemar’s capital. She doesn’t have long to dwell on it, for soon the general has taken up the reins of their royal carriage, and they are once again moving towards the city; a quick glance out the window confirms that Wyll is steering the other carriage to follow them—even as it seems he has to call over his shoulder at its passengers. 

It was only a handful of seconds before Tav began to mindlessly fidget as the silence sat between them like an unwanted passenger. There were countless possible conversation starters, questions she wanted to ask him, but all either fled from her mind or the words died in her throat whenever she opened her mouth; her husband still hadn’t looked at her since she entered the carriage, instead keeping his glowing eyes trained out the window towards the lights of Waldemar’s capital.

With how close the two sat, Rolan was consistently aware of his new wife’s shifting and fidgeting, even as he kept his gaze focused on the horizon, and his mind focused on more important matters. The newly made Queen had shifted again, causing his eyes to roll. He wondered if perhaps she was trying to put distance between them, possibly trying to escape his infernal heat that was undoubtedly prickling at her skin with how close they sat to each other, or perhaps she was uneasy now that she was once again forced to be beside a hellspawn—beside the fiendish usurper. His Queen adjusted again, and he found himself wishing she would have just sat across from him rather than try to suffer through his proximity in silence like some sort of martyr.

A thought occurred to him about the people who would be waiting to see the new royal couple—to see her. He had given them a proper Queen to fawn over. Unlike himself, she is innately touched by the divine and from proper nobility... but if she is visibly frightened of him…

Rolan contemplates if he should say something, remind her they both needed to look presentable or try to comfort her.

Comfort her?

Rolan wants to scoff at the idea.

I don’t even know how to comfort Lia and Cal.

Before he could stop himself, his eyes briefly flick over to the stranger sitting beside him; luckily, she didn’t appear to have been staring as he’d been expecting her to, so she probably—hopefully—hadn’t noticed his glance. He wasn’t eager to get dragged into a conversation with her. He was even less interested in having to deal with his new wife sneering at his sharp teeth or recoiling from his clawed hands.

Rolan was only distantly aware of how the impatient flick of his tail lapsed into it lashing across the excessively padded seats. At least until it smacked against a gown-covered leg, eliciting a startled ‘Oh!’ from the woman beside him.

Growing frustration is quickly replaced by a flash of embarrassment as he whips his stupid, mindless tail away from her as if the contact has burnt him. Her eyes met his a moment later, and he realized too late that he had ended up staring.

Tav watched as her husband once again angled his face away from her. Clearly, he had been as surprised as she’d been, at least if his wide-eyed expression had been anything to go off of. She had met a few tieflings before and knew that, for many, their tails were part of body language.

Perhaps the Dark King is nervous, too? Or maybe he was irritated...

Once again, Tav keenly felt the absence of understanding. She knew there would be a great deal to learn. Still, she’d hardly anticipated how... daunting it would be to ask. Biting the inside of her lip, Tav debated whether she should say something or maybe take a shot to lighten the mood. Tav eventually shelfs the idea before returning to the uncomfortable silence between them.

So, she nearly jumps in her seat when the Dark King speaks up.

“Pardon me…” his eyes once again glancing at her, more specifically where his tail had thumped against her leg.

It was not exactly the conversation she envisioned, but she still found herself with a small, slightly relieved smile, “It’s alright.”

The long, low sound of a horn echoed out to herald the arrival of Waldemar’s new royal couple, causing the pair to look out the windows again as both carriages finally passed through the threshold of the city’s gate.

Up and down the city streets, hundreds upon hundreds of people hold up the warm lights of candles and lanterns, like a sea of flickering stars that had fallen from the night sky and parted to let the royal carriages through. They look on with eager eyes, ready to catch the sight of their Queen. 

They gaze up at her with awe, and some even begin to bow as the carriages, now moving at a slightly slower pace, pass by. It’s not until Tav’s eyes meet with a young child sitting perched upon the shoulders of another onlooker, both smiling up at their new Queen, that she snaps out of her daze. She waves and smiles at the people, though only a few of their expressions are fully illuminated until a sudden burst of light draws the crowd’s attention.

The people seem awed and intimidated in equal measures, though no alarm is raised. Tav glanced around in confusion before quickly noticing a soft glowing light between the Dark King’s palms while he recited something under his breath.

His clawed fingers curl and flex gracefully as what started off as a small mote of light steadily grew into a whorling orb of colors. Tav feels almost hypnotized by the beauty of his spellcasting, watching as the magic is pulled and shaped between his hands without slipping from his control.

Then, in one smooth motion, he stands and tilts his hands toward the carriage window. The whorling orb blooms into a dazzling spray of colors blazing overhead, which the crowd receives with quiet sounds of wonder.

They aren’t the only ones moved by the display, and Tav lightly brought a hand to politely cover her slack-jawed expression as she watched the spell’s aftereffects, still artfully coiling through the air even as it faded. She’d known Rolan was a wizard, tales of his terrifying power were still circulating throughout the Sivailon court, but she hadn’t been expecting the beauty she had just witnessed.

It’s as if the obvious hits her once again she looks out to the streets. This is Waldemar, the kingdom born anew through revolution. Glimpses of old bricks paired with new ones show the repair after the revolt three years ago. She is in Waldermar—the kingdom and the capital city—ruled over by the usurper and now, by marriage, her.

The Dark King continues to garner the crowd’s attention as he releases another spell to go twisting through the air, replacing the last one that has since dissipated. Tav’s fingers fidget once more as she hesitantly pulls on the innate magic in her veins. She feels it rise within her, like the ebb and flow of the tides pulled by the moon.

Should she join in? She knows her magic will be different from his, but... What if this was a new custom she wasn't privy to? If this is important to her new husband or the people he rules, she should try her best to participate before giving the wrong impression.

The new Queen abruptly stands, drawing Rolan’s attention. He maintains concentration on his last spell with little difficulty as he watches her softly mutter an incantation, stopping and repeating herself as if unsure of her recital. She moves her hands in a manner familiar to him, though her motions are more strained and tense. It is as if all her concentration is going to what he recognizes as a relatively simple spell. The magic of the spell waxes and wanes far more than it should. Her hands move more frequently than such a simple casting should require as she goes back and forth between needing to stop the spell from unraveling itself and needing to keep it from fizzling out.

It’s painfully clear to his learned eyes that she is untrained.

He wants to scoff but holds it in, Typical sorcerer.

They call her a ‘divine soul,’ but he supposes the princess has been too worried about her dresses and tea parties to focus on honing her innate magic.

At least she isn’t trying to cast with her pinky raised.

Once the spell was not immediately at risk of dissipating in her hands, she rushed to throw it up. Dancing lights, a mere cantrip, just as he had predicted... The silvery-blue motes drifted through the crowd, the light rippling instead of maintaining the soft, steady glow it was supposed to have, and every slight bump of the carriage seemed to strain his Queen’s ability to maintain concentration on the spell.

It’s unpolished and sloppy, but the people cheer in awe anyway; some even clap or weep as they praise their new Queen, blessed by the moon herself. Rolan bites back his frustration. Perhaps with proper guidance and a more practiced hand, she would have potential, but that was hardly his concern. All that mattered was that her magic came from the divine, and the people knew it. Let his detractors cry out against and cower before his infernal blood, but now they could placate themselves with her presence.

Eventually, they pass through the castle’s massive gates, and Rolan slowly releases the hold of his spell, allowing the display to fade away as he returns to his seat. His new Queen seems to follow his lead, rubbing her hands as if the dainty things had been strained from casting her little cantrips. This time, he is more mindful of his tail, making sure the appendage stays away from her as the tip of it sweeps against the floor in silent anticipation for this ride to be over.

Meanwhile, Tav takes in the large palace of towering cobblestone where she will be conducting her queenly business. It seems as if light is spilling from every window, like every candle within had been lit in preparation for their arrival. Idly, she wonders how the castle compares to the one in Sivailon. Both kingdoms were old, though neither was meaningfully more ancient than the other. Hopefully, Waldemar’s palace would not be dissimilar from her Sivailon home.

General Zevlor eased the carriage to a stop right at the front steps of the castle, where two rows of well-armored soldiers, many of whom seemed to have horns or wore helms styled to look as such, stood on either side of the path leading to the threshold. Three teiflings seemed to be waiting by the entrance; one was a tall, muscular woman with a broken horn and ruby red skin, the next was a shorter woman with periwinkle skin and was dressed in a colorful ensemble, and last was a young man wearing a wide smile while his tail swayed back-and-forth as he watched the carriage with clear giddy anticipation.

The Dark King was the first to step down from the carriage, and it seemed his boot had hardly touched the ground before the three tieflings came forward.

“Rolan!” The young man of the group rushed forward with his arms out.

Tav was practically in shock as her husband rolled his eyes but didn’t hesitate to meet the young man’s embrace with one of his own. This was the friendliest he’d been all evening, and if the new Queen hadn’t frozen mid-exit, she is certain she would have slipped out of the carriage from sheer surprise.

“Welcome to Waldemar, Queenie!” a sudden boisterous voice called out, making Tav jump as she looked to see the woman with the broken horn swiftly approaching. “Here, let me help you down.”

Where Zevlor had cautiously offered his hand to help, this woman firmly scooped Tav up with both arms before setting her back down with ease. Tav had to admit being hoisted and carried, even if only for a moment, had her cheeks warming—though a distant part of her mind recalled how the stories typically had one of the newlyweds carrying the other rather than it being done by a beautiful stranger with a smile that seemed bright enough to be its own source of illumination.

“Karlach, weren’t you advised not to help people down like that anymore?” The other tiefling woman—who on closer inspection seemed to be dressed in a set of performance attire that complimented her physique beautifully—said while approaching with a polite smile of her own that didn’t hide the concern in her eyes, “Besides, that’s not how we should approach… nobility…”

Beyond those words, an otherwise unspoken exchange seems to pass between the two tiefling women, though it is over so fast that the true contents are known only to them.

“Right.” The bright smile on the muscular tiefling—Karlach—dims a bit, becoming slightly embarrassed as she stepped back from the Queen, “Sorry, didn’t mean to… scare you...”

“Oh!” Tav quickly scrambled to find her voice again, “No! You were fine! I wasn’t frightened! I found your warm welcome was quiet- Well- Welcoming.”

Karlach beamed in response before happily turning to the other tiefling woman, “You see, Alfira! No feathers ruffled. Plus, I think Rolan didn’t want me to ‘surprise lift’ him again.”

Tav pressed her lips together, attempting to hide her amusement as she pictured the dreaded Dark Prince being unexpectedly hoisted into the air so casually. She’s almost tempted to ask for a demonstration.

“Please forgive our Royal Enforcer.” Alfira said, her smile slightly more relaxed, “Karlach tends to be quite casual—even with royalty.”

Karlach shrugged, “I’ve known Rolan since before people began calling him ‘Prince,’ and we’ve gotten this far. Don’t really see the point in changing it up just because folks are calling him ‘King’ now.”

“I can hardly see any issues with that.” the new Queen agreed, “One should be able to trust their friends and their court; it’s only natural the two would overlap at times.”

The expression on Karlach’s face somehow brightened even further, and a soft chuckle escaped Alfira before she cleared her throat and attempted to resume propriety.

Tav turned back towards the carriages, intending to locate her own small court of friends and wave them over so they could be introduced. She then froze as she spotted the vampiric elven man glaring at her. His mouth twisted further into an unapologetic sneer as their eyes met.

The sounds of bickering help Tav tear her gaze away to land on her friends. Wyll had paused from regularly chiding the others to behave themselves while he was handing off his reins to a handful of tieflings who had since emerged to take care of the horses and the two carriages. It appeared he was taking the opportunity to introduce himself to the servants as he helped them unload what belongings her court had been able to pack, though they seemed surprised he was even talking to them. Lae’zel is already sizing up the new environment, scrutinizing everything and everyone in sight as she has all evening. Tav knew that her knight would make it her duty to personally map out the palace within the week and that her friend was waiting to assess if her presence wasn’t otherwise needed before doing so. Lastly, Tav’s gaze falls to Shadowheart, who was showing remarkable restraint considering the vampiric elven woman who was currently trying to drape herself against the Queen’s lady-in-waiting—much to the tiefling vampire’s apparent dismay. The half-elf’s expression was stoic, even as she traded verbal jabs with the other woman, but Tav could see how her friend was internally debating whether or not to borrow Lae’zel’s mace and remind the undead that she was also an active cleric of Selûne.

“Come now, just a bit more of your time.” the elven woman cooed with a mocking smirk, “Our conversation was so enchanting. Why let it end now? Perhaps we could all share a meal…”

“I would tell you to drop dead, but I suppose that still wouldn’t spare me from your chatter,” Shadowheart responded coldly, physically brushing the elven woman off her shoulder before striding away from the three spawns.

“Let our new friend go to her mistress, Violet.” the pale elven man suggested, his tone flippant as he watched the selûnite make her way toward the Queen with a mean-spirited smirk of his own, “I’m sure there will be plenty of chances to grab a bite with them soon enough.”

Cal and Rolan had since released each other, and the newly made King noticed that Aurelia had nervously been glancing between her fellow tieflings and her fellow vampire spawn. Rolan gave a slight nod, and Aurelia sagged slightly in relief before ushering Astarion and Violet away. Both were clearly less eager to remove themselves from the situation than their sister, but they still ultimately complied with only a minimal amount of complaining.

Cal placed a hand on Rolan’s shoulder to regain the his attention, “So are you going to introduce me to your wife or... ?”

Rolan rolled his eyes, “Don’t start...”

“Can I at least know if I should call her Queen or Sis?”

“You’re not funny, Cal.”

“Come on, Rolan. I’m trying to be happy for you.”

“This is serious business.” Rolan sighed, “Please, just keep the quips to yourself.”

Now it was Cal’s turn to roll his eyes, “Gods forbid we try to be friendly with your new wife.”

Of course, Cal was still concerned about being friendly. Rolan fondly realized he’d be a fool to have expected otherwise, but he brushed the thought aside.

“Where is Gale?” Rolan asked, “Has he gotten confirmation that Waldemar’s settlements received word of their new Queen?”

Cal didn’t respond—instead, he stared past his brother in blatant surprise. Perplexed, Rolan followed his gaze to the Queen’s gith. Rolan gave his brother an unamused look.

“I believe the gith is one of her knights.” Rolan clarified dryly, causing Cal to jump as if he’d forgotten his brother was right there.

“Sorry, I was just...” Cal glanced at Rolan before once again staring at the gith in wonder, “I knew the rumors, but I wasn’t expecting her to look so... I mean, look at those ears; they look like ours but more... elaborate, I guess? Elegant? She kind of looks like an elf but... not an elf...”

“Yes... Very fascinating.” Rolan drawled, pinning his brother with a pointed but quizzical look, “Though I recommend we leave, or you make your staring more discreet before she notices; I have yet to see her without a hand on her sword.”

Cal opened his mouth to protest but paused before sighing as he and his brother moved to enter their palace. Their retreating figures were noticed by the new Queen, who had been introducing Karlach and Alfira to her own court.

Tav hastily excused herself as she went to catch up with her husband. Lae’zel, Wyll, and Shadowheart quickly did the same, and Alfira shared a knowing glance with Karlach and Zevlor before she followed suit.

As the Dark King and the other young man made their way inside, Tav managed to catch up—in heels, no less—and overheard the two already discussing several of Waldemar’s other towns and cities. They evidently heard her approaching as the pair stopped to look back at her, their conversation trailing off.

“Oh, please, do not stop on my account.” Tav requested, hoping she didn’t sound too breathless, “Though perhaps I could be informed of any important situations as we make our way...”

Her husband’s tail flicks as he regards her silently and unreadably. The other tiefling, who greeted him with an embrace, just glances between the two newlyweds.

Tav hears the footsteps of her court, so she isn’t surprised when they join her, though she hadn’t expected Alfira to be with them.

“My apologies, your Majesties!” Alfira chimed in before addressing Tav directly with a short bow, “The King has assigned me to attend to you, and, as such, my first order of business is to give you a tour of the palace. He has also prepared a surprise for you that should be ready once the tour is complete.”

At that, Tav’s eyes widened, and she again felt her cheeks starting to flush.

A surprise from her husband on their wedding night... She suddenly felt breathless for a very different reason.

“That sounds lovely...” Tav heard herself answer before she and her friends began following the blue tiefling through the castle. Tav turns to see her husband's back walking in the opposite direction without a second glance.

It doesn’t take long before Tav notices Lae’zel beginning to grow restless and impatient, the knight letting out a ‘Chk’ every time Alfira’s guidance repeatedly leads the group from one end of the palace to the other and back again.

The longer the tour dragged on, the more Tav began to share in her knight’s frustration. The Dark King had been distant from her all evening, but she could swallow her own disappointment and accept it. They were practically strangers, and she could understand why someone in that position might be so reserved towards her on a personal level. However, they would inevitably have to face each other if she was to be able to perform her duties as his co-ruler, and yet...

Tav tried to calm herself and remain attentive to Alfira’s words, trying to at least use the time to learn about the palace and its other inhabitants—starting with Alfira herself. Apparently, the tiefling is a bard who specializes in lore, which not only helped explain the woman’s attire but also how she knew so much about the various pieces decorating the castle—although Tav was fairly certain that much of the artwork decorating the place had not been put there by the... previous rulers...

By the time they crossed paths with Karlach again, Tav could tell the meandering tour was wearing on them all. Shadowheart had been following closely at Tav’s side ever since Alfira had led them away from the Dark King to take them on this tour, but now her fellow selûnite was not even bothering to hide how she looked upon the bard with suspicion—although Karlach opting to tag along seemed to help alleviate the cleric’s agitation a little bit. Lae’zel looked down every hall they passed, causing the few servants milling about to scramble away or quickly avert their eyes from the group. Even Wyll seemed to be struggling to maintain his naturally open and friendly demeanor as the group continued to pass by still lifes of grim items arranged in a similarly grim manner, pieces depicting fiery or desolate rocky landscapes, and renditions of frightening creatures ranging from mundane beasts to fiendish beings.

The addition of Karlach’s friendly company could only do so much to soothe the growing awkwardness, especially after Tav had asked about her husband and the Royal Enforcer apologetically relayed that the Dark King was still busy. Tav didn’t even bother trying to ask with what. As frustration and nerves tangled in her mind, Tav found her hand drifting up to fidget with the string of oak leaves around her neck. It was almost a relief when Lae’zel eventually decided to speak up.

“Enough of this farce! Either our guides are unfamiliar with their own domain, or they have been intentionally dragging out this exercise in pointless tedium!” the githyanki snapped before addressing Tav, “My Lady, I take my leave of you for now. I intend to properly learn the layout of this place.”

Karlach visibly tensed, and Alfira appeared to almost protest.

“Very well, I see no problem with you accumulating yourself in whatever ways you require.” Tav replied, her tone calm but leaving little room for argument, “Please, try to be gentle, in both word and deed, as you do.”

“As you wish.” Lae’zal nodded, before making her way down one of the halls and disappearing around the corner.

When Tav returned her focus to the pair of tieflings that had been guiding them, she noticed that the Royal Enforcer seemed to be letting out a breath and had relaxed her posture again while Alfira continued to stare down the hallway after Lae’zel, the bard apparently lost in thought for a moment.

“So, Queenie,” Karlach piped up, a grin already brightening her face again, “Think your knight would be up to doin’ the occasional spar? I bet she is tough as infernal iron.”

Tav was about to respond when Alfira suddenly clasped her hands together in a friendly gesture, the sound of which managed to get the group’s collective attention.

“Karlach, I thought of something fantastic!” the bard exclaimed, “After she sees the ballroom and gardens, I think the Queen would love to see the palace forge as one of the last stops. You and Dammon could even show her around!”

Wyll lit up at the mention of a ballroom and was clearly trying politely to hide his suddenly renewed enthusiasm, but Shadowheart looked at the two tieflings with confusion.

“You... have a forge?” she asked, “Here on the palace grounds?”

“It was Rolan’s idea to get one added. More convenient to get important repairs done that way.” Karlach happily explained, “And Dammon doesn’t have to deal with bastards going out of their way to cause trouble for him anymore since he started living here, too.”

“And who’s Dammon?” Wyll asked, prompting the Royal Enforcer to get a giddy expression as her tail swayed.

“Only the best damn blacksmith in Waldemar!” Karlach declared proudly, “And my wonderful boyfriend!”

Between Wyll’s barely hidden excitement at the mention of a ballroom and Karlach’s unrestrained joy, Tav couldn’t help but smile. A glance revealed that even Shadowheart’s cool expression had softened slightly.

“I would be delighted to meet him.” Tav said, lowering her hand from the sacred oak leaves on her neck when an idea struck her, “In fact, I would like to ask him about a possible commission for myself. If you don’t think he would mind...”

Karlach’s smile grew impossibly bigger, “Queenie, Dammon will be thrilled!”

“Perfect!” Alfira interjected, “Karlach, you finish showing the Queen around, and I’ll tell Dammon to meet you at the forge.”

The bard didn’t wait for an answer before taking off, leaving Karlach to gleefully usher the new Queen and her court through the palace, the remaining knight inquiring about the ballroom. Alfira rushed through the castle, the decorative bells of her attire jingled as she sped up, running by familiar faces still busy at work in the castle even on this late night. Finally, after racing almost halfway across the castle and scaling a massive flight of stairs, she made it to Rolan’s office. She didn’t even bother announcing her presence before she slipped in and shut the door behind her, causing whatever discussion Cal and Rolan were having to halt at her arrival.

“Alfira?” Cal asked, his confusion quickly turned to mild concern as the woman made sure to lock the door before facing them. “Alfira, what’s wrong?”

“The gith- The githyanki knight-” Alfira forced herself to speak, even as her lungs still burned for air, “She is wandering the castle unsupervised.”

The bard leaned her back against the solid, intricately carved wood of the door as she caught her breath. Cal straightened up from where he’d been leaning over his brother’s shoulder while Rolan set aside the notes the pair had been looking over before he could risk crumpling the pages in his irritated grasp. The two waiting silently for Alfira to continue.

“I kept the tour going as long as I could, but Lae’zel—the githyanki—grew impatient and is now exploring the palace herself.” She continued after a moment, “I left the rest with Karlach and came directly here.”

“Gods damn it…” Rolan hissed, pushing himself back from his desk.

He hadn’t expected Alfira would need to report to him already. Perhaps he should have anticipated that a princess so used to getting her way would  be the type to so brazenly have her people begin snooping before the first night was out. At least he’d had the foresight to assign Alfira to her in the first place; now they just need to figure out what to do about the wayward gith.

“Should we get one of the spawns involved?” Cal piped up.

“Not practical.” Rolan dismissed, beginning to count the spawn off on his fingers when Cal looked at him with disbelief, “Aurelia, Astarion, and Violet are already faces she knows from this evening. Dalyria is preoccupied with the apothecary, and Leon’s eyes make him too recognizable.”

“Wait, what about Petras?” Cal asked.

Rolan looked at his brother as if the answer should have been obvious, “He’s… Petras.”

“Right...”

“None of them would be able to follow her outside during daylight either.” Alfira added, “Not without the constant risk of bursting into flames anyway...”

“I could alert Minthara.” Cal offered.

Rolan considered it for a moment but then shook his head, “Her time and resources are better spent keeping an eye on Waldemar’s other settlements.”

“Though she should still be informed about this, right?” his brother insisted, “Even if just to make her aware of it.”

At that Rolan nods, “Alfira, you will bring word of this to Minthara as you did me.”

“Understood.” the bard agreed, unlocking the door to leave before pausing, “I’ll need to take a detour first... and grab a bottle of wine.”

“What?”

“I’m supposed to be telling Dammon to meet the Queen and her court at the forge so he and Karlach can show it to her.” Alfira explained, “I’ll need another excuse for being late to rejoin them.”

Then, she was out the door without waiting for either of them to respond. Rolan leaned back in his chair, running his hand down his face as he let out a heavy sigh. He just wanted to be done with tonight.

“I’ll do it.”

Rolan jerked his head towards Cal, “You’ll what?”

“I can keep an eye on the githyanki.” Cal repeated, “Make sure she doesn’t spy too much.”

Rolan could only stare at his sibling in silence for a moment, “You are aware she could very well be extremely dangerous, correct?”

Cal crossed his arms and looked at Rolan the way he always did when trying to imitate Lia’s and their mother’s stubbornness, “I’ll just have to make sure my staring is more discreet then.”

“Zurgan. Fine!” Rolan bit out, taking off his jacket to remove the harness for the hidden dagger he wore in its specially made sheath, “At least keep this on you and never turn your back on her.”

Rolan practically shoves it all into his brother’s hands, and he can tell Cal nearly rolls his eyes as he accepts it. They lapsed into silence as Cal donned the harness under his own jacket. Rolan forced himself to look down at the pages he’d set aside on his desk as he heard his brother walk towards the door. He forced himself to try to read the words as he heard the door open.

“I’ll be careful, Rolan.” Cal murmured, “I promise.”

Rolan didn’t let himself look up from the page until he heard the door close.

By the time Alfira finally rejoined Tav and the others, they had already met Dammon at his forge, which he and Karlach had shown off proudly. As the blacksmith had explained when asked about Alfira’s whereabouts, the bard had arrived later with wine and vessels from which to drink it. It was Shadowheart who noticed Alfira’s return as Dammon and the others were focused on the sacred oak leaves Archdruid Halsin had gifted Waldemar’s new Queen.

As Wyll helped the two ladies-in-waiting set up an area for the group to sit, Dammon finished his assessment with a nod, “It will take some time but I can do it. I will need to ask Gale about creating a controlled enough charge of lightning to have the silver to ahear to the organic matter of the leaves... Then I will, of course, have to make sure it comes out flawless and that the silver used is pure with no discrepancies… Oh! Then there’s-”

Karlach draped her weight against Dammon, causing him to stumble slightly and break off from his rambling. She followed up with a kiss to his cheek that had him grinning even as he instantly flushed a deeper shade of red.

“In Common, love.” She chuckled with affection as she guided him to sit down with the others. “I think you lost poor Queenie over here.”

Dammon then turned back to Tav, who could only stare wide-eyed as she tried to follow any of what the blacksmith had just explained. A quick glance at the others showed that they were similarly lost.

“Right, right...” Dammon chuckled. “Yes, I can preserve the leaves in silver. It should take about… four days to do it, give or take.”

“That’s wonderful! Thank you!” Tav beamed at the young couple before excitedly brushing her hair aside so Shadowheart could help remove the necklace and hand it off to Dammon.

Alfira began to pour them each a serving of wine as Karlach smirked, “See? What do I say? Best damn blacksmith in Waldemar.”

Dammon bashfully rubbed the back of his neck at that as Tav smiled at them before softly clearing her throat, “Now, regarding payment... Would you rather I pay you in advance?”

The blacksmith shook his head, “You can pay me once the commission is finished, your Majesty. I know you’re good for the coin.”

“Besides, we’ll know where to find you.” Karlach teased with a friendly wink.

“Yes, I suppose you do.” Tav chuckled, “So, will 7,500 gold be enough?

There is a sudden silence as Karlach and Dammon stare at Tav with wide eyes.

Shit! Was that too low? Are they offended?!

Tav nervously fidgeted with the material of her gown beneath the table, “Or would 10,000 gold suffice?”

Dammon makes a strangled noise that has Tav fearing for a moment that he’d inhaled his wine as Karlach pulled the blacksmith to lean against her and patted his back, “Slow down there, Queenie. You’ll give Dammon a heart attack if you go any higher.”

Dammon blindly fumbles for his girlfriend’s hand as he stares off into the distance, “It’s- It’s only a 100 gold job... Any higher, and I might as well be robbing you.”

“Well, I’m glad you told us then. I certainly wouldn’t have known any better.” Wyll laughed, giving the blacksmith a friendly and approving smile, “Seems the Royal Enforcer has chosen a man as honest as he is talented.”

Karlach smirked, “Damn right I did.”

“Then... How about this,” Tav spoke, now more sure of herself, “100 gold for the commission and 100 gold for you delivering it personally.”

Karlach and Dammon share a smile before the blacksmith holds out his hand, “You have a deal, your Majesty.”

With a handshake and an agreement made, Shadowheart points out the late hour, and Alfira agrees that it would be best for the new Queen and her court to turn in for the night.

Though not before Rolan’s gift.

They part ways from Karlach and Dammon, bidding the pair a good evening before the group once again follows Alfira through the hallways. In seemingly no time at all, Alfira stopped at an ornately decorated door, which she opened with a flourish before turning to hand Tav a gilded key and gesturing for the Queen to enter.

It’s a beautifully decorated room, with an ornate desk and chair placed in front of a large window, fresh-cut flowers arranged in a variety of gorgeous vases, plush couches, and a grand, luxurious bed. Tav walks around the room, trying to take in everything from the elegant furniture to the tea set with silver detailing.

“These are your quarters for you to do with as you please.” Alfira explained, “King Rolan felt you would enjoy your own space.”

That or he would enjoy keeping his own space… Tav thought before she could stop herself, though she brushed it aside and offered a sincere thanks to be delivered to her husband for the lovely gift.

Alfira bows and then looks towards the others. “Now, I’ll see you both to your rooms. I’m sure the Queen is ready for bed.”

Butterflies erupted in Tav’s stomach as she bid her friends and her new lady-in-waiting goodnight, leaving her alone with her thoughts as the group departed.

Soon, she was pacing around the room. It’s the first time she has been alone this evening, and she suddenly isn’t sure what to do with herself. She tries relaxing, idly casting a few cantrips, and even tries to focus on praying to Selûne… but her restless mind keeps returning to the same thought…

When will her husband join her, and what will they do when he does?

Well… she had a semblance of an idea regarding the latter... Tav stripped out of her wedding gown and removed her jewelry, leaving her to continue pacing around the candle lit room in only the pale blue slip the head selûnite cleric back home had insisted on for the occasion. However, as Tav looks at the soft color and the delicate embroidery, she is unsure if this is something that the Dark King would even like. Maybe he’d prefer something else? Perhaps red, low cut, and sheer…

If he were to run those claws over such material, then he could so easily tear it away. Then again, he could probably tear any material off her if he so pleased

Her cheeks burn at the thought. She moves across the room quickly to throw open the window, hoping the cool evening breeze will ease her flushing skin and help quell her racing mind.

Leaning out the window, Tav lets the night’s chill wash over her. She tells herself that she shouldn’t be so nervous... Married couples do this all the time after their weddings. Besides, King Rolan is  handsome. Though most couples have had more of a relationship, more conversations before their first night together… She had  hoped they would have had a chance for that after the ceremony. This all would likely be less nerve-wracking then.

Though... Perhaps this is what he likes... Hearts racing, body shaking with uncertain anticipation, getting to know each other’s bodies first when everything is still so painstakingly new...

Tav shakes her head, hardly feeling the night’s chill as her face heats instantly again. Closing the window with a sigh, Tav continued trying to wrangle her thoughts and finish getting ready.

She toyed with the idea of doing something with her hair before ultimately deciding to just leave it down. Then, after finding a few bottles of fragrant oils arranged on a vanity, Tav sat on the canopy bed, slowly massaging them into her skin. She made her body relax, relishing in the soothing motions, how it made her skin feel soft, and how nice it smelled. Hopefully, this would impress him. Tav suddenly pauses from rubbing the oil into the skin of her legs and groans in frustration.

Since when has she ever been so worried about such a thing? Why now?

Again, Tav shook her head. She knew why—of course, she knew. She wanted this to work. Sivailon needed this to work.

Tav sighed heavily, allowing herself to slump back into her pillows. She spares a look towards the flickering flame at her bedside. Maybe she should snuff the flame out... or that was for him to do when he arrived?

He could probably pinch it out with his fingers... The heat barely had an effect on his warm skin.

She groaned as her thoughts wandered once again, though she didn’t bother trying to stop them this time and merely let her eyes fall closed.

A stirring wakes her, prompting Tav to sit up, her head groggy as she looks out into the darkened room. Someone had extinguished the candle at her bedside, and now the only illumination left is a soft beam of silver moonlight spilling in from the window. Tav’s gaze follows it until she spots movement in the shadows, and then two eyes, like twin eclipses of fiery gold, stare back at her from the darkness.

Tav felt the blood rush to her face as she watched, straining her eyes as she tried to see him better through the dark. With how he moves, she realizes he is taking off his clothes. As if aware of her curious gaze, he crosses through the stream of moonlight, allowing her a fleeting glimpse of his body, revealing he’d already shed his top and his jewelry. As he draws closer, she can just make out his hands, unfastening his belt.

She tries to say something—anything—but breaks off with a gasp at the feeling of his hands softly caressing her shoulders while his glowing eyes roam her face. The Dark King’s body is so close, she wonders if the heat she feels is from him or the anticipation simmering just beneath her skin.

The Dark King guides her to lean back as he joins her on the bed, his eyes burning a path down the silk slip to where he now sits between her legs. He looks back up, his gaze holding a silent question she eagerly answers. She gently nudges one of his hands lower and nods as he drags his dexterous fingers past the sides of her breast to the curve of her waist. His claws lightly trace over the silk, slowly causing her body to arch up into his touch. When he reached where the cloth was now riding up her hip, his hands stilled as he glanced back at her expression again before resuming.

She shudders as he leans in closer, his breath fanning across her ear as his hand dips beneath the hem of the slip and it feels like a tingling fire is left in its wake. Tav watches as the Dark King slowly ghosts his sharp claws up the soft skin of her thighs, the muscles tightening in response to his touch. Her heart pounds within her chest, as his finger wonders then he stops as his finger brushes against the wet spot of her underwear making her gasp. He does it again, more purposefully this time, as he makes a low hum of approval.

The Dark King shifts his position, allowing him to lower his head to the crook of her neck so that he could feel more of her. He smirks as he presses his lips to her skin before teasing her with his sharp teeth before drawing away.

Tav released a shuddered huff, though she could hardly tell if it was from relief or disappointment.

“Don’t worry,” the Dark King whispered into her ear, “I promise to be gentle.” 

Tav reaches up to do her own exploring, blindly feeling along the length of his horns, trying in vain to map them out in her mind. She feels his breathing become more shallow when she runs a hand through his hair, slowly combing her fingers down through it as she carefully tugs him closer, her fingers carefully caressing his chest.

Was that just her heart racing, or was his hammering away too? He pulls back before she can figure it out. The Dark King finally shoves her silk slip further up her body with one hand as his fingers finally push aside her underwear, granting a clawed digit access to trace her wet slit. Slowly he moves up to her clit, so swollen and sensitive to every little touch. Tav’s back arches as he circles the bud. His tail coils around her leg, and he slides an arm under her back. He lowers himself slowly until his weight begins to press down on her. She is torn between wanting to pull him closer and wanting to better explore his body when he returns his head to the nape of her neck, first breathing in her scent before his warm lips start to kiss along her already feverish skin.

They still haven’t really said anything to each other, but maybe they don’t need to. Tav takes a sharp inhale as she felt his tongue against her skin, her husband clearly more focused on using his tongue for something other than words.

Fuck it.

She starts to move her hips softly against his hand, and that is all the hint he needs. The Dark King hooked a claw under her panties, effortlessly tearing the material before discarding it. His hand soon returned to feeling how she was dripping for him. 

Tav lets out a pleading whine and once again feels him smile against her throat. Then he moves forward, his hips nudging her legs further apart and leaving her cunt exposed to him. His eyes watches her quiver as he drags his length against Tav’s wetness, coating himself in it. The heat of him made her shiver as she fought the urge to grab him by the shoulders and grind her hips on him to reach her pleasure. He pauses, pushing himself up to look into her eyes. His own were now completely dilated as he brought their faces closer. Then he pushes the tip inside her slowly watching her face contort. She moans at the stretch, a sound the Dark King swallows as he leans in and finally gives his bride a kiss…

Tav wakes with a gasp, only to immediately squint her bleary eyes against the light of early morning. She slowly turns her head to the side of the bed before sitting up to look about the room, only to find herself alone. Her gaze catches on the candle at her bedside, completely burned down to the wick with the last few wisps of smoke signaling how the flame had just recently sputtered out. Tav moves to more firmly prop herself up as she uncomfortably shifts in her ruined panties—ruined but still on her and in one piece.

He never came…

[raleighrador]

Most fics I have read - even/especially the very good ones - that include Anakin having a relationship with Obi-Wan after Mustafar (or AUs where something similar to Mustafar occurred) are almost always frustrating to me. At least unsatisfying.

Anakin having any kind of positive relationship with Obi-Wan post Mustafar always seems to rely on a level of introspection and self awareness that frankly my head canon of Anakin is totally incapable of.

Anakin is not a forgiving person, even at his best. He is kind and generous but not forgiving. He remembers every slight (real or imagined). He holds onto those memories and lets them fester.

He also remembers all the good. He never forgets them. He cherishes them and polishes them and places them on a pedestal.

It's why (and a symptom of) he's so fucked in the head when it comes to his most important relationships.

He has no synthesised view of Obi-Wan or Padme or Palpatine or Luke. They are all of the things they have ever done to or been to Anakin.

What changes is the weighting Anakin gives to each of these things, with a massive recency bias.

I don't see how Anakin, in the full knowledge that Obi-Wan is the man who cut off his limbs, set him on fire, left him to burn, left him for Sidious to find, and then stole and separated his children before Padme's body was cold...

Could ever forgive him.

The why's and the intentions and who deserved what just wouldn't matter to (my head canon) of Anakin.

In lieu of self-awareness many fics give Anakin basically limitless self loathing. So instead of dealing with Obi-Wan or Padme or whatever he just hates himself so much that he doesn't have time to hate Obi-Wan anymore.

There is a lot I like about this (narratively/as entertainment) but I think the thing it misses is that is how Anakin worked prior to Mustafar anyway. He already hated himself almost limitlessly and he still found the time and energy to hate Obi-Wan.

After Mustafar he would have so much more justification for that hatred and resentment. So why would his self loathing get in the way?

The longer the timeline of these stories aligns to canon the more true this becomes.

I think by the time you get to Ghost Anakin at the end of ROTJ the things he would regret most are (in no particular order): choking Padme, handing Luke to the Emperor, torturing Leia, chopping off Luke's hand. MAYBE he regrets Alderaan but only in as much as it made Leia sad and means she hates him.

And he would likely blame everyone and anyone but especially Obi-Wan for this.

If Leia's surname was Skywalker, if they weren't separated, if Luke wasn't lied to about who Vader/Anakin was, if the Jedi hadn't filled Luke's head with lies and trained him as a weapon etc.

The rest of it? I just don't know that Anakin would really regret that much of it. I don't think he would see much difference - even with hindsight - between what he did as Vader in service of the Empire and what he did as Anakin in service of the Republic.

Killing the Jedi younglings probably sits in its own category. However, I maintain that Anakin would believe this was an acceptable price to save Padem IF it worked.

That might be his biggest regret - that none of it worked, that he lost Padme and his children anyway.

But any time travel force shenanigans where Vader uses the dark side to yeet himself into the past such that he can save Padme etc.

He would think that was a good deal.

There is the final (meta) element to all of this which is that Anakin's eventual forgiveness of Obi-Wan seems to generally function more as a narrative tool to assuage Obi-Wan's guilt, rather than some kind of real character development for Anakin.

And TBH I just want Obi-Wan to suffer/don't cate about him but that is another post.

I do however have sympathy for this - because I think Anakin is really, really hard to write.

A "redeemed" Anakin in my mind isn't one who suddenly becomes some kind of virtuous rules based utilitarian like the Jedi aspire to be, like Obi-Wan is.

A redeemed Anakin is one who chose his son, chose his family. A redeemed Anakin is one who was finally put in a position where choosing his family WAS the greater good. Anakin chose to save Luke - and kill Sidious - for the exact same reason and applying the exact same logic he applied to every other major choice he ever made.

And I don't see that Anakin as ever getting over what Obi-Wan did to him and his family. At best I see him not killing Obi-Wan because it would make Luke sad.

[sketch-guardian]

Imagine the students with an mc who’s like a middle aged man and has a beer belly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone write about a loud middle aged man in obey me

You're right, I guess I haven't seen many headcanons about such theme either🤔so I'll do my best to fix it☺For my headcanons, however, I usually use a gender neutral MC to make everyone feel included, so I hope this small change won't bother you too much🙈(I also apologize for the delay😥classes have started in uni again and I'll have less and less time to reply to asks, I might need to close the askbox for headcanons soon😭):

"RAD CLASSMATES+NEW EXCHANGE STUDENTS WITH A MIDDLE AGED MC WHO HAS A BEER BELLY"

DEMYA

Demya loves a bit of meat on bones, she can appreciate the thinnest or most muscular physiques too, however she would find a bit of plumpness charming, because it would make her mouth water. Middle Aged MC however wouldn't have to fear being mauled, because as Demya's mate, they would be off limits and have privileges that others would not be granted. Demya may nibble or kiss Middle Aged MC's beer belly out of affection while liying down on it during cuddle sessions in her soft nest, so hopefully Middle Aged MC doesn't mind having some marks, in easy-to-hide spots. Since Demya and Middle Aged MC are both troublemakers and food lovers, they would likely be a loud and occasionally chaotic couple, but still very much in love

DOMNRA/MOBIM

Domnra is a pretty fit and sporty demon, however he wouldn't force Middle Aged MC to follow his training regime, he would leave the choice up to them, depending on how they feel, Domnra would joke about Middle Aged MC deciding to settle down with a demon of all the available options though, at such an age too. Domnra could become Middle Aged MC's drinking buddy, celebrating with glasses of alcohol and getting angry at TV, shouting and breaking havoc, Domnra would mostly be a depressed drunk though, as if Demonus eased his anger issues. In quieter moments, Domnra would hold Mobim in his arms and rest his back on Middle Aged MC's soft beer belly, playing some music to listen to together, making sure to satisfy both of their tastes in music

AZUL

Azul is a twink, so the idea of ​​carrying Middle Aged MC in his arms or holding them on his lap without using magic would be quite out of the question, at least for Middle Aged MC at first, because they wouldn't want to risk hurting Azul with their weight, however he would likely be into such stuff and, as a demon, he would still be rather resistant, so as far as he is concerned, Azul would let Middle Aged MC crush him, hell he would even thank them. Being quite eccentric, Azul wouldn't care if Middle Aged MC made a racket, to be fair he's chaotic too so they would be one of the wildest couples at parties, and if they were to suffer from insecurity due to their age or chubbiness, Azul would remind Middle Aged MC of their beauty through drawings and photographs, or straight up physical intimacy such as kisses and hugs, if the first options didn't work. Azul would like Middle Aged MC to feel confident in their own body and if they wished to lose weight, he would support them, suggesting dancing as a fun exercise

ZURI

Many demons would wonder how the hell Middle Aged MC managed to woo an ethereal and elegant woman like Zuri, the answer probably being their charm and genuine feelings winning the demon over somehow, making her overlook their appearance for a while, their relationship could almost remind a bit of the one between Morticia and Gomez, in a certain sense. The occasional loud mess might upset Zuri, who often gets migraines due to her hectic work, therefore she would appreciate if they could spend some quiet quality time together, while occasionally sharing a glass of Demonus. However, Zuri would still attempt at helping Middle Aged MC with their drinking problem and would try to clean them up a bit, by buying them expensive suitable clothes that compliment their figure and curves

ODON

Not gonna lie, the first thing that came to mind when thinking about a couple made of a middle-aged human and a horror beyond comprehension was Gravity Falls, specifically Stanford Pines and Bill Cipher, even if the dynamic would definitely be different. For Odon, most people, both on Earth and in Devildom, are quite young when compared to them, even Lord Diavolo, so they wouldn't really pay too much mind to Middle Aged MC's age, only if pointed out, it wouldn't make any difference though, especially because Middle Aged MC would still remain the youngest, even compared to the only other human in the exchange program (Solomon). Odon wouldn't care about Middle Aged MC's appearance, considering that the form in which they technically presents themselves doesn't correspond to their true monstrous appearance, so Odon would love Middle Aged MC no matter what and their messing around wouldn't even bother the eldritch horror, on the contrary it would amuse them, plus Odon would keep Middle Aged MC company while they drink, to make sure they're okay, drinking a cup of green tea instead of alcohol. Odon and Middle Aged MC would often lounge together, like an old married couple, on a couch covered in a flannel blanket while reading books, in the comfort of Odon's cabin in the woods. It would be cute to imagine such a domestic life

REMIEL

Remiel is aware of how fragile and short life can be, she considers it precious and would get quite concerned over Middle Aged MC's health status, from a logical and medical point of view. Their age would also remind Remiel of how little time she has left with Middle Aged MC and therefore, despite some somberness, she would try to enjoy as many moments as possible with Middle Aged MC, kindly trying to help them change their harmful habits, not wanting the day in which she will have to assist their soul in reaching the afterlife to approach so soon. Remiel, apart from her wings, has cold skin, so being in Middle Aged MC's arms, pressed against their soft and warm beer belly, would certainly be a new, but pleasant experience, a source of heat, perhaps enough to lull the angel of death into a light nap, which she would honestly need, as she often attends to her celestial duty. Middle Aged MC being loud would surprise Remiel, since she is more used to a calm and isolated environment, however it wouldn't bother her too much, since she literally has two uncles and an aunt, who don't know much about the concept of being quiet, whether it's because of her powerful voice (Fury), his heavy step (War) or his shenanigans (Strife)

NATHANIEL

Nathaniel would notice Middle Aged MC's age and size, however he wouldn't give too much weight to such details and would focus more on their affinity and how to spend time together. Nathaniel would be quite capable of handling Middle Aged MC being loud, after all he isn't the Archangel of Patience for nothing, however if Middle Aged MC bothered him too many times during his meditation sessions, then Nathaniel might decide to take revenge, it would be unclear how or when and Middle Aged MC would live for a while with anxiety, not knowing what to expect and when the angel would strike, usually it would just be a little tease anyway, because he's lenient. Being very chill, sometimes, Nathaniel would let Middle Aged MC sit on his lap while he meditates or while they rest like, playing with their belly as if it were a stress reliever and resting his head on their shoulder, finding the act very therapeutic. As for drinking, Nathaniel would just make sure Middle Aged MC doesn't overdo it

URIEL

Even Uriel would have no idea how Middle Aged MC managed to capture her heart and yet, much to her embarrassment, they still somehow accomplished such feat, however, due to having a reputation, the warrior angel would appreciate if Middle Aged MC avoided being loud or messy while she's busy with important celestial matters. Uriel knows how fragile humans can be and how many things can contribute to a premature death, therefore, not considering Middle Aged MC's lifestyle healthy, she would try to help them exercise, stop drinking and eat healthy, at least Uriel would do her best to not turn the experience into military training. One thing Uriel would be able to do with ease would be lifting Middle Aged MC in her arms, without effort or trouble, no matter their height or how big their beer belly is, Uriel is strong and Middle Aged MC would be like featherweight to her, so that would probably make them feel like royalty. Uriel would also enjoy the contrast between her sturdy body and Middle Aged MC's soft one

[desperatelyneedcoffee]

Robin, Spoiler and Nightwing are all out on a mission. They're fighting the same group of people but have been split up thanks to super shitty circumstances. Batman, Red Hood, Red Robin, Black Bat and even Signal are still grouped together - they're on two different roofs but they're still close enough to help each other - but their mission isn't related to the other.

Batman and Oracle completely underestimated how dangerous the first group of villains were, leading to the 3 vigilantes getting injured. Like, really injured. Like, calling out for your parents injured because you don't have any other option.

Robin came out with a bruised cheek, a couple stab wounds and a dislocated shoulder. A dislocated shoulder he could deal with but there's only so much he can do after being stabbed. The injuries weren't even the worst part to Damian, it's the fact that he was quite literally backed into a corner by a large group of people. Despite having been taught to always be prepared and never underestimate people, he did exactly that after Oracle 'confirmed' they were medium level thugs. He was reluctant but he did call for Bruce in the end.

Stephanie came out with half the bones in her feet broken, one knee cap fractured, a bloodied face from a broken nose and a fractured rib or two. Most of which came from being forced over the edge of the roof without her utility belt. ((Don't ask why she doesn't have it on idk either.)) Steph called for Bruce as her foot slid off the rooftop. The fall could have been worse but it still scared the absolute living shit out of her.

Dick barely made it out. He was sprawled out on a rooftop far away from the others, barely able to move. The fight gave him two fractured eye sockets, a broken nose, busted lip, a ruptured eardrum (which later got infected), broken ribs - one of which was jabbed into his lung, probably internal bleeding somewhere and one large cut along his leg. His face was swollen, black and blue, just like the rest of him. When he spoke into the comms, he told Bruce to get the others first and that he'd be fine.

What a shit fucking lie that was.

Batman ordered Red Robin and Black Bat to go collect Spoiler, Red Hood to collect Nightwing and Signal and him would get Robin. By the sounds of Nightwing, it was better if Jason went there instead. It would be much quicker considering he can lift heavier objects with more ease than the others, bar bruce.

Everyone made their own way back and Oracle ensured that surgery was ready and available for the three of them when they arrived.

Damian was the first one to be able to move around more comfortably since the mission, then it was Steph and then Dick. Steph was bound to a wheelchair for a while and had a lot of physical therapy to deal with. Dick was asleep for a couple days, waking up and going back to sleep every few hours. He was unrecognisable for a good few days as well as deaf in one ear.

Everyone took turns sitting with him, holding his hand, letting him know that he wasn't alone. Some would sit in silence, others would talk to him about random shit to try and make both of them feel better.

Everyone wondered what happened that night though. Babs never makes the wrong call, or at least not when it comes down to a mission. Something had to have been hacked or changed before the mission started. She and Bruce were working on finding the truth whilst the others rested and calmed down.

All three physically healed quite well but mentally they were shaken up, even if they constantly denied it. Bruce would just have to force therapy down their throats again while denying he needs it himself.