#so we spontaneously decided we need to book NOW

[ailendolin]

I have just booked a 14 day LotR tour in New Zealand for 2026!

Ever since I watched Fellowship of the Ring in the cinema in 2001, I have been wanting to go to New Zealand and visit the filming locations. This is a dream come true for me. I have been waiting 25 years for this moment and I'm honestly feeling a little dazed right now because it hasn't truly sunken in yet that I'm finally going on this adventure - and with a very good friend, too!

I'm so excited that I'm grinning from ear to ear and can't stop smiling!

[perfectlyoongi]

HUSBAND!YOONGI who asked you to marry him without a ring or planning, just the desire to be yours forever motivating Yoongi. you were about to go to bed, tired from another long day of work, but when he looked at you, focused on your night routine, arranging things for the next day, Yoongi realized that was a vision he wanted to have for the rest of his life; Yoongi's words came without hesitation, spontaneous, carrying with them all the hope and desire for a full life by your side. “let’s get married. i can't bear to spend another day with the fear of losing you. i want this life we have forever.”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who at your wedding, at the end of the day under the sunset, pulled you away from all the guests and said private vows just for you. at the ceremony Yoongi was nervous, too eager to hurry up the ceremony and finally have you forever and ever, and, as such, his vows were beautiful, yes, but brief; however, when the day was ending, when dancing and laughter occupied all the space, Yoongi gently held your hand, taking you to the garden, pouring out his soul in the form of simple words. “i promise to love you. not as i love you now, or as i loved you yesterday, but as i will love you tomorrow and the day after, for i continue to fall in love with you constantly and my love will never diminish, only grow.”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who sits in the kitchen with a guitar and serenades you. whenever you were cooking, cleaning the kitchen, or simply working, Yoongi would take his guitar to the kitchen and embellish your tasks with a gentle melody echoing through the room, the music that your husband played for you comforting your heart and making you smile every time Yoongi decided to accompany his guitar with his sweet voice. “i wrote a new ballad with you in mind. wanna hear it?”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who likes to be the little spoon when you take a nap on a sunday afternoon. Yoongi liked to have you in his arms, to have the feeling that, in a way, he was protecting you from the world and that he contained within you all the essence of your soul that made you so unique, so beautiful; however, Yoongi wasn't going to deny that he also liked to feel held, to have your hands around his body in a warm blanket of pure love and tranquility. “do you want to take a nap with me? i wouldn't mind being held now... because… i need you, to... you know. please?”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who adopted a dog on your first anniversary. Yoongi would be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking about a family with you since the day he told you he loved you — it was stronger than him. you made Yoongi dream, dream about things he never thought he wanted, things he never thought he was worthy of wanting; you were magic for Yoongi, an eternal source of dreams and hope and he just wanted to repay you — a dog, an animal that would keep you company when he was away, an animal that was capable of loving you almost as much as Yoongi, almost. “i don’t know what magic you have in you, but i just want to continue to grow with you and make our relationship grow. this dog is the beginning of our family.”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who reads you books out loud when you are tired or sad. Yoongi asked you to lay your head on his lap and choose the book he would read: poetry, fantasy, even plays he was capable of reading and interpreting for you if it meant you resting and laughing for moments; there were entire hours of nothing more than your husband's melodious words filling the room, various tales and stories coming to life through his voice while you closed your eyes and let yourself be carried away by the narrative recited by Yoongi. “if i read you shakespeare and look at you while i read the love dialogues, does that count as a confession from me to you?”

HUSBAND!YOONGI who loves you unconditionally for years and years on end, the feeling that was planted in Yoongi's heart only growing with each moment shared with you without ever withering or losing a single fragment. as if linked by the oldest constellations, your love was constant, long ago idealized by the universe itself with traces of stars and magic making your relationship lasting in each lifetime. “i don’t want to stop dreaming about you. i don't want to stop loving you. you are the only reality for me and i only exist with you by my side.”

[satorhime]

. ･｡･ right where you left me ࿐gojo satoru.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : angst, fluff, dad!gojo (reader ‘n’ gojo have a daughter), set in 2018 and 2023, reunion, beach trips, established relationship ! f!reader. ･｡･ w.c. 3.7k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : time remains the one enemy gojo can’t defeat. ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ��ྀིა notes: ik there’s a gazillion reunion fics but this has been sitting in my drafts since oct n i suddenly felt like finishing n sharing so i hope u enjoy <333 ‘m gna go cry over this fic now ;u;

satoru is having a damn good day.

it’s suspicious, it feels like a fever dream, and he can’t really pinpoint where the dubiousness comes from. maybe it’s because he feels as if he doesn’t deserve it, like if he allows himself to relax like this something terrible will happen while he slacks off. or maybe, it’s because he’s only ever had those truly good days in his youth when he was devil may care and his concerns for the wellbeing of the world slid off his shoulders weightlessly, like sheets of rain on a rooftop. a wild and selfish kind of happiness that begun in spring and ended too quickly in winter.

but today is a good day. he forgot to charge his phone last night, he is in the best mood he’s been in all year, and he can’t stop fucking smiling. gojo satoru is thriving, on top of the world, a little bit of that nostalgic, adolescent joy warming up his chest.

and it’s all because it’s a sunny day, the water is cool, and he’s on the beach with you and his baby girl.

the three of you decided to steal away on a spontaneous trip to okinawa that forced him out of his work uniform and into swim trunks with a bare chest, simply because you burst into his office with big droplets of tears in your eyes declaring yourself a terrible mother because you realized that your daughter was already three years old and she had never seen the ocean before.

it had taken him ten minutes to book three first class tickets and secure the private family villa for the weekend, fifteen to get packed, and twenty to board after hearing that.

he would do anything to please his girls, after all.

“‘anna go into the bathtub, mama!” your baby whines impatiently from the embrace of your arms, squirming and squiggling for you to let her down as she points towards the rolling ocean waves behind you. ever since she learned how to walk, she’s lost all patience for her doting parents carrying her around— especially when something catches the attention of those big, pretty blue eyes. it didn’t take long for her to become enamored with the sea, wanting nothing more than to get out of your hold and toddle towards the shallows.

“it’s called an ‘ocean’, cupcake,” you correct her, voice full of amusement and affection as you crane your head forward to kiss the soft skin of her chubby cheek, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “too bad we’re being held hostage by dada right now.”

“i heard that,” satoru mumbles with a pout, his third melon popsicle of the day hanging from one side of his mouth. droplets of green slush drips onto the broad planes of his chest in a sticky mess as it melts but he’s wholly focused on the two of you, one summer blue eye winked closed as the other peers through the lens of the polaroid camera looped around his neck. “but wait, just one more photo of my two favorite girls!”

“you’ve been taking photos for the last twenty minutes, satoru,” you huff. “we aren’t going anywhere, you know. you don’t have to take so many.”

“our baby needs to see what the three of us looked like in our prime, before we grow old and gray together.”

“you’re so ridiculous, gojo satoru.”

but despite your exasperation, you remain put. it’s hard not to feel the same way he does on a perfect day like this— contentment, light in the heart and full of love because of this little trip. the camera focuses in on you and your daughter before the shutter clicks, each snap immortalizing the sight of you and your baby girl illuminated by the lazy autumn sun.

“and done!” he cheers, catching the polaroid in his palm as it slides from the slot. it wobbles between two of his fingers as it develops, but he can already see that it’s a perfect picture. he feels his heart sink in his chest, melting into a syrupy sweet puddle of happiness that makes him lightheaded and anxious.

oh, you’ve never looked as pretty as you do right now. like a dream, a forever kind of love he never plans to let go of. wearing that cute little swimsuit he likes so much with his sunnies perched on top of your head and his baby propped up on your supple hip. the two of you are beaming, cheeks squished together, your daughter’s hand cupping your face fondly.

it’s the kind of picture that others would coo at and fawn over if he framed it in a museum, but satoru retrieves his wallet from the pocket of his swim trunks, tucking the polaroid safely in the trifold for his own selfish keeping.

“i think she really likes the beach,” you tell him, squatting to set your daughter on her feet. she waves to you and satoru before waddling toward the shallow surf, her little legs stumbling in the thick body of sand. “this was good of you, satoru.”

“what? you think i’d miss the opportunity to spend time with my best girls?” he asks you, a hand on his chest with an affronted look on his face. you resist the urge to snort as the two of you follow closely behind your stumbling toddler, rushing towards her every time she gets distracted and attempts to eat the sand or chase one of the seagulls.

“you’ve been busy lately, that’s all,” is how you respond, the accusation washed out of your tone for the gentle words instead. you don’t bring up how many milestones, how many little memories he’s already missed, just by being who he is— that no matter what, he’ll always belong to his duty first and his family second. no, you’ve always shown patience and understanding. never complaining when his side of the bed is empty before morning or your girl requests for her father to read a bedtime story in that animated, comical way you can never replicate for her. making her settle for your offkey, wobbly lullabies instead.

“i know,” he says quietly, suddenly serious— keeping one eye on your baby girl who is currently splashing her hands around in the sand and water. “one of my first year’s a vessel so the curses are getting more pesky. i don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“you think something’s about to happen?” you ask, looking up at him, but he presses a kiss to your temple and you wrinkle your nose at the sticky feeling of his lips.

“nah,” he replies, and you almost roll your eyes because you know he’s lying. even though satoru has done his best to keep you hidden from his world, you’re no fool. you already know why he rarely comes home at night, why he was absent for christmas last year, why your daughter has never met her paternal grandparents. you know that with the reappearance of several ancient cursed objects, there is thunder crackling among the clouds. “don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

satoru turns up the volume on the waterproof boombox half-buried in the sand next to your belongings. he can’t stand your choice of music, finds it noise most of the time, but it’s the distraction the atmosphere needs to throw off your questioning. he pulls you to sit down between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around your body.

ocean foam splashes against the tips of your toes as the two of you sit at the surf of the tide in peaceful silence, time getting away from you both in the warm sun as your baby girl plays, her energy endless— waddling around and squealing at the different curiosities and wonders the beach has to offer.

whatever will happen, satoru won’t allow it to be today.

“satoru,” you call after a long quiet, craning your neck to look up at him. “if you—”

“what, you think i’m gonna croak sometime soon?” he shoots back, already knowing where the conversation is heading. so he holds you tighter, his strong arms a protective cage around your body as his shades slide down the attractive slope of his nose. he cracks a grin at you, another obvious deflection because he knows you can’t resist when he looks at you that way. not with his hair mussed from humidity, a strip of sunscreen on his nose as he chews on that damn wooden stick from his ice pop earlier.

“i know what you’re doing,” you shake your head. “and it’s not working. i’m just worried, i’m allowed to, as your wife. you think you’re invincible but if something happens to you that’ll… it’ll—” it will break us.

satoru’s smile fades, but he thankfully doesn’t need to reply because your daughter is waddling up to the both of you now, her sand-caked hands full of seashells and stones that glimmer in the sunlight. he wants to scoff because if anyone understands the consequences of failing those you love, it’s him— it’s all he’s ever known.

“what ya got there, princess?”

“fish—!” she cries in her sweet, babyish voice. some of the shells tumble from her hands, and you watch as her expression switches from happiness to dismay to finally confusion. you have to bite your lip to hold back laughter when instead of picking them back up, she dumps the rest of the seashells in your lap. “now i don’t have any fish.”

“i think those are seashells, princess,” gojo says with a grin, picking up a shell that rests on top of your thigh and holding it up to the sunlight. “this shell looks like it belongs to a hermit crab, like your megumi-nii.”

“you’re a terrible influence on our daughter, you know.”

“i’m just setting up future dynamics, angel face,” he grins.

“look look look!” your daughter gasps, bringing your attentions back to her. “this swee-shell looks like dada—!” she squeals excitedly, her new finding held delicately in her little sand-covered palm. she stands up on your thighs to reach her father sitting behind you, holding an iridescent blue seashell next to gojo’s eyes, her tiny mind comparing the colors in wonder. meanwhile, satoru wears a smile that burns so wide it hurts his cheeks.

“it looks like you too, princess,” he boops her nose, gently taking the seashell and holding it to her eyes next. her answering giggles sound like a sweet bell calling him home to heaven, but he can’t answer it because there are two people on this earth who laugh and smile at him like he hung the moon and painted the stars. “if you put it in your pocket now, the ocean won’t call the cops on you for stealing it.”

“no, this one ‘s for dada,” she insists, shoving the pretty blue seashell back into his hand.

“thank you, my mini angel,” he ruffles her hair, and you smile softly at the little exchange because though she may be enamored with her new discoveries at the beach, her father will always be one of her favorite wonders of the world.

“i ‘anna go find one for mama now!” she announces, and you wonder how she hasn’t run out of energy yet, but you nod and stand to your feet, dusting the sand away from the bottom of your swimsuit. your baby’s entire hand curls around your pointer finger, and she pulls you along with great effort.

you glance back at satoru and find that he’s watching the two of you head closer to the water, that uncharacteristically genuine smile still on his face, and you part your lips to call him to your side— where he’s always supposed to be.

“you didn’t think we’d let you slack off, did you? finding seashells is serious business, satoru!” you tease, pretty eyes crinkling with unbridled happiness, haloed by the waning sun and the orange dreamsicle sky that holds it. “hurry up!”

“wait for me just a little while, i’m coming to you,” he calls back, a lopsided grin spreading across his mouth before he raises the polaroid camera to his face, snapping one last candid photo of the two of you before he jogs towards his little piece of heaven.

but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things when the distance between heaven and earth keeps growing further and further apart—

“satoru, you can’t stand outside forever,” your voice is gentle as it speaks behind him, your hand laid delicately on his back in comfort; breaking the sorcerer out of deep reverie, the edges of the old memory fading, replaced by the pink paint of his daughter’s bedroom door that he’s been standing in front of for the last thirty minutes. his thumb brushes over the polaroid in his hand, the one that had been his salvation and his undoing in the prison realm. he’d taken it out without knowing, his eyes reading over the date written in his handwriting.

october 30, 2018

the picture of you with your daughter on your hip that he took at the beach all those years ago— that had been the last time he’d seen her.

four, no, five years?

his feet are nailed to the floor because change makes satoru shut down, and everything has changed since then.

while time was immeasurable and immovable inside of the prison realm for him, the clock had ticked on outside of it and just like that, his little girl is no longer three years old, giving him seashells that matches his eyes or hitting the back of his ankles with her big wheel or—

“you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you sigh. “you’ve been unsealed for months. you’re her father, no matter what.”

“i’m a stranger to her,” and to you, but he doesn’t say it. you had waited for him, in every aspect of the word. held out on hope and faith in his strength that he would return to your side, where he’s always supposed to be.

“you’re n—” but you’re cut off when the door opens to reveal your daughter standing on the other side. the child standing before him is almost unrecognizable. she’s much taller and older, wearing track pants underneath her school dress with ribbons in unruly waves of white hair. the last time he’d seen his daughter, she had been three years old and still learning things like colors and sight words and that feeding megumi’s demon dogs her vegetable purée was against the rules. now, gojo satoru was the father of an eight year old and he’d missed everything because of a mista—

“you can come in,” she says, blinking up at satoru with an expression void of emotion. “but i’m not finished with my homework so if you stay too long, you’ll bug me.”

“how did you know i was outside?” he whistles nonchalantly, unbothered by the attitude that she gives him. it fills him with bitter satisfaction that she isn’t excited to see him, that someone is angry that he failed, regardless if he won in the end. he can handle bratty children who hate him and only look at him as a tool for their success, he can’t handle a daughter who cried herself to sleep every night waiting for him while he was losing his sanity away in a cube.

or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“i could see you and mama through the door, duh,” she replies, hip cocked to the side in an amount of sass she had to pick up from you. “mama says i have your eyesight. i don’t really get it, but it makes it easy to cheat on tests.”

he could see it in the bright blue of her eyes, even if she hadn’t confirmed it. plain as daylight, she’s exactly like he was at that age. easily irritable and bratty, cocky and spoiled rotten. suffering from the weight of being an uncontested heir to an ancient dynasty at the age of elementary.

“i used six eyes to cheat on tests too,” he relates with pride, and then he bends down to her height, waving his palm. “sooo you probably got some questions about where i was—”

“not really. grandfather said you were sealed because you’re foolish and let weakness distract you.”

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you scold, “apologize.”

“why? i don’t want to.”

your daughter turns, disappearing back into her room after that and seeming like she doesn’t care if satoru follows or not. your hand travels up the long expanse of satoru’s back in a soothing circle as you step closer.

“huh, that’s new.”

“sorry, she’s… i don’t know if acting out is the right term,” you say, pain in your voice. “she doesn’t really understand why she’s so different, or why you were … gone for so long. i know you didn’t want her around your family so i kept her away as best i could, but she started to have crippling migraines because she didn’t know how to use her ability and well… they were the only ones who knew how to help. filled her head with foolishness every time she visited the estate, though and it’s changed her.”

“huh,” is all he says, a broken record, tongue running across his inner lip in thought.

“do you need me?”

“what, you think i can’t handle her?”

“well, you were outside the door for a half hour, ‘toru.”

he shoots you a lopsided grin before he’s stepping into his daughter’s bedroom, glancing around at the unfamiliarity of it all. you follow close behind, watching with a heavy heart as he takes in the difference eight years can make.

her tiny baby crib has been traded for a poster bed decorated with a sanrio duvet and various stuffed animals where a laptop and study papers lay scattered on top. the angel themed decorations, along with her first ultrasound photo you and satoru had hung up in her nursery had been replaced by pink paint and pictures of her with a group of friends from school and a photo of her on a volleyball team.

he has to rip his gaze away.

“so,” he starts, standing in the center of the room and trying not to feel like an intruder, desperate for something to say— something to relate to her with. “how many episodes did i miss? did aya-chan ever get married?”

“i’m too old to play with dolls now, father,” she huffs, scrunching up her nose, and though satoru expected that exact answer, it doesn’t stop his heart from shattering into a million pieces. he feels that familiar itch, anger welling in his body until it burns at his fingertips because this is no one’s fault but his own. “don’t you know anything about me?”

“my bad, you’re a big kid now,” he snorts, even as his chest aches. he sits on the edge of her bed, flipping up one edge of the coloring book laying next to her laptop. “maybe you should start paying taxes.”

“i’m also too young to pay taxes. you really don’t know anything about me anymore,” she snaps, and she’s right— he doesn’t and it burns like saltwater on a wound. now he knows why you asked if he needed you; he’d hide behind you if he could, but he settles for flickering his eyes up to you helplessly.

you realize that neither of you can be upset with her for being angry that one of her favorite people vanished out of thin air. that while he was sealed, his clan had taken advantage of his absence and your powerlessness against them, and had begun spoiling your child rotten, teaching her how to use her ability— plumping her up for the inevitable day that she becomes her father’s successor, turning her against him.

“i think,” you say softly, leaning against the frame of the door. “that your dada— your father— would like to learn, though. he’s missed a lot, baby.”

she considers this for a long while, then she heaves a great sigh, hackles lowering. she scoots off the bed and before satoru can feel the hurt of figuring she doesn’t want to be near him, she does something unexpected. she moves one of her trophies out of the way to open her closet door, rummaging around for the longest before she yanks out a cardboard box you had labeled ‘donate one day since my snotty kid is a hag now’— it’s a box full of old dolls, covered in dust. she sits on her knees in front of the box, peering inside.

“aya-chan didn’t get married, but hinata-chan did,” she explains with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes, taking out the dolls one by one and setting them on the floor in front of satoru’s feet.

“to the mailman that lived in your ugliest dollhouse?”

“you remember,” her eyes widen a little in surprise before her expression shutters again, smoothing out the doll’s colorful polyester dress before reaching back into the box and retrieving a brush covered in synthetic hairs. she looks at it for a while before extending her arm and offering the brush to her father. “aya-chan decided to be independent and explore the world. she’s planning to go on a trip soon so she needs to get ready. do y’wanna brush her hair?”

satoru is sliding off the bed and sitting cross-legged on the floor before he knows it, barely wanting to breathe because he doesn’t want to shatter the fragility of the moment between them. he takes the brush, and seconds later she hands him one of the dolls that had once upon a time been her favorite one that no one was allowed to touch. you would giggle at the delicate way he brushes the doll’s hair with utmost care and precision if you weren’t about to cry at the scene instead. “oh, and where’s she headed?”

“okinawa.”

“ponytail or messy bun then?” you don’t think you’re imagining the wobble in his voice. “to compliment her swimsuit.”

a tiny, hopeful smile twinkles over your lips at the two of them on the floor, babbling away to each other about the outlandish stories they’ve created together with her dolls. how many times had you offered to play with her, only for her to burst into tears because it wasn’t the same? you know that this won’t bridge the gap between the years that have been lost, but it’s a start. just hearing the soft murmurs of their conversation, the sound of your little girl giggling for the first time in ages, makes your heart swell.

time may be an undefeated opponent, and with it comes change that no one can control, but something tells you that as long as the three of you are together— everything will be okay.

you tiptoe out of the room, because they need time to catch up and apologize and reconnect, to learn one another once more, but before you close the door, you don’t think you’re mistaken when you hear, “can we go back to the beach too, dada?”

[anniebeemine]

What Do We Do Now?- s.r. x fem!reader

I lost the request for this so I am so sorry!! I remember that it was something along the lines of finding out you're pregnant with Spencer and not really knowing what to do.

You’d been going at it like bunnies for weeks, so the little plus sign shouldn’t be a shock. But as you stared at the pregnancy test in your hand, the small, unmistakable plus sign staring back at you, a wave of disbelief and confusion washed over you. You sank down onto the edge of the bathtub, your mind racing.

This wasn’t part of the plan. Not yet, anyway. Sure, you and Spencer had joked about it, teased each other with the idea of having a mini genius running around, but it was always in some distant, far-off future. And now, here it was, staring you in the face, very much real and present.

After the initial wave of emotions subsided, you began to replay the past few weeks in your mind, trying to pinpoint when this could have happened. You thought back to the night in his office, when the case had weighed heavy on both of you, and you’d found comfort in each other, right there on his desk, with the city lights flickering outside the window.

Or maybe it was that lazy Sunday morning, when you both had decided that staying in bed all day was the only logical plan. You remembered how Spencer had looked at you, his eyes dark with need, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough.

And then there was the weekend getaway, a spontaneous trip to a secluded cabin, where the two of you had practically lived in bed for three days straight, wrapped up in each other, forgetting the outside world existed.

As the memories flooded back, you realized there had been plenty of opportunities—moments when passion had overtaken reason, and precautions had been forgotten in the heat of the moment. The realization made you smile despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through you.

Spencer had always been meticulous, careful, the kind of man who planned everything down to the smallest detail. But with you, those plans had a way of falling apart. You were the one thing in his life that was unpredictable, and you knew he loved you for it.

You took a deep breath, the reality of the situation beginning to sink in. You were pregnant. You and Spencer were going to have a baby.

The thought both thrilled and terrified you. How was he going to react? You knew he’d be supportive, of course—Spencer was nothing if not dependable—but this was huge. Would he be excited? Nervous? Overwhelmed? All of the above?

You stared at the plus sign a moment longer, then set the test down on the counter. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. You needed to tell him, and you needed to do it now.

You stood, feeling the weight of the news settle into your bones, and headed out of the bathroom to find Spencer.

You found Spencer in the living room, hunched over his laptop with a focused expression. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the keyboard as he finalized your travel arrangements. The sight of him so engrossed in his task brought a wave of affection over you, momentarily easing the anxiety that had settled in your chest.

“Hey,” you called softly, walking over to him.

He glanced up, his face lighting up with a smile the moment he saw you. “Hey, I just finished booking everything. We’ve got two tickets to New York, and I managed to snag reservations for the Met and the Natural History Museum. Oh, and I found this great little restaurant for dinner tomorrow night—everything’s set.”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat as you watched him. He looked so excited, his eyes gleaming with anticipation at the thought of the trip. You knew how much he’d been looking forward to it; he’d been talking about it for weeks, planning out every detail to make sure everything was perfect. The idea of dropping such life-changing news on him right before you left seemed… unfair.

So you swallowed back the words that were threatening to spill out and forced a smile instead. “That sounds amazing, Spencer. I can’t wait.”

He reached out, pulling you into a warm embrace. “It’s going to be great, I promise. Just the two of us, a whole weekend to ourselves, exploring the city. You’re going to love it.”

You nodded against his chest, the scent of his cologne grounding you. You’d tell him, just… not now. After New York, when the two of you had had your fill of museums, Central Park, and cozy dinners—then you’d sit him down and tell him everything. For now, you’d enjoy the trip, focus on the two of you, and the news would wait.

Spencer pulled back slightly, looking down at you with a curious expression. “Everything okay? You seem a little… off.”

You quickly plastered a reassuring smile on your face, reaching up to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. “I’m fine, just trying to wrap my head around the fact that we’re leaving in two hours and I haven’t even started packing yet.”

He chuckled, relieved, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Well, we better get moving then. You know how you get when you’re in a rush—you’ll end up packing everything but the kitchen sink.”

“Hey!” You swatted at him playfully, but the lighthearted banter did what you needed it to do: it pushed the tension away, allowing you to focus on the task at hand.

You made your way to the bedroom, Spencer following close behind, and began pulling out clothes, toiletries, and everything you thought you might need for the weekend. As you tossed items into your suitcase, you couldn’t help but glance over at Spencer, who was meticulously folding his shirts and placing them neatly into his own bag.

Two hours. In two hours, you’d be on a plane to New York, embarking on what was supposed to be a romantic weekend getaway. You’d tell him after the trip, you reassured yourself. You’d find the right moment, when the time was perfect, and you’d tell him everything.

For now, you had to pack, get to the airport, and prepare yourself for a whirlwind weekend with the man you loved—and the secret you were carrying.

After a full day of exploring the museums, your feet were throbbing, but the excitement and happiness you felt more than made up for the discomfort. The Met had been everything you’d imagined, with Spencer leading you through each exhibit with an enthusiasm that was contagious. By the time you left the Natural History Museum, you were both buzzing with the thrill of discovery, chatting non-stop about the artifacts and exhibits that had captured your attention.

As evening fell, you found yourselves at a cozy little restaurant Spencer had found, nestled in a quiet corner of the city. The dim lighting and soft music created the perfect ambiance, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment as you settled into your seat across from him.

Spencer wasted no time in ordering your favorite wine, a detail that made your heart swell. He knew you so well, always attentive to the little things that made you happy. When the waiter brought the bottle to the table and poured you each a glass, you lifted yours to your lips, pretending to take a sip. The rich aroma of the wine filled your senses, but you quickly set the glass down, opting instead for the cool, refreshing water that sat beside it.

As you talked, you found yourself falling into the familiar rhythm of conversation that had always been so effortless between you and Spencer. You discussed the museums, laughed about your sore feet, and planned out the rest of your trip. But despite the easy flow of words, there was an undercurrent of tension that neither of you addressed—an unspoken awareness that hung in the air.

When it came time to order your entrees, you noticed Spencer's gaze lingering on you a little longer than usual. He had always been observant, noticing the small details that others might miss. You could tell he was processing the fact that you had barely touched your wine, a departure from your usual behavior. But just like you, he chose not to say anything, allowing the moment to pass without comment.

The waiter took your orders, and as he walked away, Spencer reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “This has been such a perfect day,” he said, his voice soft and sincere.

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “It really has. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, a warm smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”

For a moment, you considered telling him right then and there, the words hovering on the tip of your tongue. But the thought of shattering this perfect evening with such heavy news made you hesitate. Instead, you leaned into the warmth of his hand, deciding to savor the moment a little longer.

The rest of dinner passed in a comfortable mix of conversation and shared silence. You both skirted around the unspoken tension, choosing to focus on the here and now. Spencer didn’t mention your untouched wine, and you didn’t offer an explanation. It was as if you had silently agreed to let tonight be about enjoying each other’s company, postponing the inevitable conversation until later.

As you walked back to your hotel, hand in hand, the cool night air a welcome relief for your aching feet, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You knew you couldn’t keep the secret much longer, but for tonight, you let yourself be happy—happy to be in New York, happy to be with Spencer, and happy to be wrapped in the simple joy of being together.

Later that night, you found yourself standing on the balcony of your hotel room, gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. The cool breeze gently brushed against your skin, and you hugged your arms around yourself, lost in thought. The day had been perfect, a beautiful blend of culture, laughter, and love, but the secret you were carrying felt heavier with each passing moment.

You heard the sliding door behind you open, and soon Spencer was at your side, his arms slipping around your waist as he pulled you close. His chin settled on your shoulder, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your neck as he nuzzled into you.

“It’s beautiful out here,” he murmured, his voice soft and content. “But not as beautiful as you.”

You smiled, leaning back into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. “You always know just what to say.”

Spencer chuckled, his arms tightening around you slightly. “It’s easy when I’m with you. You make everything better, you know that?”

You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of his face as he pressed a kiss to your temple. His eyes were full of love, a deep and unwavering affection that made your heart ache in the best possible way.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “More than anything. I don’t think I could ever put into words just how much.”

You swallowed, your heart racing as you felt the moment slipping away from you. The words were there, hovering on the tip of your tongue, but saying them felt like crossing a line you weren’t sure you were ready for.

But this was Spencer, the man you loved more than anything in the world. The man who would stand by you no matter what. You owed him the truth.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hummed in response, still nuzzling into your neck, content in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you felt him tense behind you. His arms froze, his breath hitching as he processed what you had just said. You waited, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what his reaction would be.

But then, slowly, you felt him relax, his hold on you softening as he exhaled a long, shaky breath. His hands gently moved to rest on your stomach, and you could feel the tenderness in his touch.

“Pregnant,” he repeated softly, as if testing the word on his tongue, making sure it was real.

You nodded, your voice trembling as you spoke again. “I found out right before we left. I didn’t know how to tell you… I didn’t want to ruin today.”

Spencer turned you around in his arms, cupping your face in his hands as he looked into your eyes, his expression a mix of awe and overwhelming love. “You could never ruin anything,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “This is… it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, relief flooding through you at his reaction. You had been so scared, so uncertain, but now, seeing the love and joy in his eyes, all of those fears melted away.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, one that spoke volumes of the love he felt for you. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could see the tears in his eyes as well.

“I love you too,” he whispered back. “So much. And I love… I love that we’re going to have a baby.”

You smiled through your tears, wrapping your arms around him as he pulled you close once more, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. The two of you stood there on the balcony, wrapped in each other’s arms, the city below fading into the background as you held onto the promise of a future you would build together.

[4dkellysworld]

After deciding 'it is done'

This is more of a manifestation themed post (it's a draft from March when I spontaneously felt like writing it but didn't post it) because I felt like it but I'd appreciate if I didn't get any asks about manifestation* (unless I change my mind later) cos I'll share what I can and there's a lot of material available already! You can see my past post on this topic here. For more posts on it, see @4dbarbie-archive and realisophie's posts here and here and there's also some over at @ndjournal in the experience sharing tag.

*Also because I don't want to send mixed messages to the readers of this blog. I see conscious manifestation as a way to challenge & break limitations and concepts from the mind, not to get things in the world (kinda like Neo learning to bend the spoon in the Matrix if you get me lol). The latter will only pull you deeper into ego and the world, which isn't conducive to self-realization (if that's your goal) if you're focused on satisfying ego and the worldly life. If that makes sense and you resonate and agree with that, then we are on the same page but not everyone is and that's okay too, just do what feels right to you. Just sharing my reasoning :)

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I've been reading this book called Parallel Universes of Self because I read the author Frederick Dodson had an interesting reality shifting experience. I didn't expect to read info on manifestation but they are pretty much the same. I have a few books of his that I'm skimming through out of curiosity and there's some interesting stuff (I might share some other things later, he doesn't just talk about manifestation, but also consciousness, reality and even non-duality).

I thought I'd share the below excerpt because it's explained really well and might help some others. It's also a nice succinct summary of what Ada and Soph talked about for materialization/manifestation as well. I can remember pretty much 95% of the things I've ever "manifested" were from when I acted the way he described after I had decided "it is done". It's easier to do this for things you don't care about because you just end up forgetting about it entirely and then it shows up and you're like 'oh yeah!! nice'.

In the hours, days and weeks after simply rest in the new viewpoint, rest in the fulfilled reality. This means that you don’t try to “make it happen” because you have already claimed it as real. You don’t affirm, visualize, repeat or wait for it. You don’t hope for it to come in some future. Because you have claimed it as already real you don’t even think about it much either. You don’t ask when, how, where it will show up. Instead you simply do what offers itself to you throughout the day, and this will involve commonplace activities. Daily life continues in a natural manner without neediness or lack. Once in awhile you may want to re-feel the body sense of the chosen reality, and enjoy what you have claimed as true, but often not even that is necessary. Furthermore you needn’t be “acting as if” the desired reality is manifest, for that still implies separation. Simply cease to behave in a way that presupposes that it is not already so. You may refuse to ascribe relevance or importance to any events that seem to contradict your newly chosen reality. From the new viewpoint such events may still exist and come up but they are no longer relevant enough to be reacted to and interacted with. They may be the way things are at the moment, but they are no longer the way you are. The corresponding physical manifestation will appear when you stop needing it, chasing after it, looking for it but are instead willingly and lovingly identified with it…not for the sake of “making it manifest” *, but for the sake of experiencing its joy in the here, now and today. *Because trying to make it happen/manifest reinforces the idea/belief that it isn't

This is the same as what 4dbarbie said about getting ego out of the way or as Lester Levenson said, let go and let God. Just let it happen and stop trying to control the process because the more you try, the more you reinforce the fact that it isn't already so. Basically stop putting in effort once you know it is true, just continue knowing with calm and ease that it is the way you want it. Ada also said here:

If you have thoughts like "I need to say my affirmations", "I need to check my state", you're not living in the end but still desiring. When you're able to look at the thing you desire as being something that was once a dream, but now only a memory - you've entered the state of the wish fulfilled. When desire turns into identity, you know you've succeeded in fulfilling yourself.

Yes we're conditioned to think we need to work hard and put effort to earn things in the world but when it comes to manifesting, this sort of mentality will only sabotage and hinder your success. You can literally just decide you have it and then never look back. This sort of mindset can take a bit of time and practice to get used to because it is not something we're used to but the more you practice, the easier it gets.

Here is an excerpt from an astral projection book (I think it's from The Illusion of Method?) I thought was really apt at describing this too. He's talking about AP but you can apply it to manifesting or pretty much anything as well.

Unless you are masochistic, I ask you to reconsider the painful idea of obsessing about time. Bear in mind that results will come whenever they have to, and counting the minutes won't make the outcome arrive faster. It's best if you just forget about it, and accept that it is something that you can't control. You must be patient—most of the time the desired results arrive immediately after giving up control of time. If you are frustrated and/or are afraid of failure, then it means you believe you are in control—and this translates into the feeling that you are responsible for both positive and negative results. Well then, stop thinking that way! Exempting yourself from responsibility is the best course of action there is. As seen in the previous chapter, those who project on command are the ones who couldn’t care less about AP. But the more you obfuscate yourself, the lesser your chances of success —and trust me, you won’t want to get trapped in that vicious cycle. Astral projection works when you stop worrying about failure because you trust that it will happen, whether you “do” something or not.

It’s the same thing: just in the same way that being hasty for sleep to occur keeps us wakeful and alert, being expectant over the OBE will keep us caged in the physical body. If the mind is constantly thinking about the goal, it can easily enter a state of expectancy* and impatience. In such state, the mind is no longer relaxed because expectancy is a state of unrest. This form of tension is what hinders the outcome—thus, the key to being relaxed (i.e., essentially lacking mental tension) is to forget about the goal entirely. If you don’t have the goal in mind you don’t enter a state of expectancy, and therefore you are free from mental tension. *expectancy is the same energy as trying to make something happen.. reinforcing the idea/belief that it isn't so

So, exempt yourself from responsibility means there's nothing more to do because ego is not in control and can do nothing.

[lavenderlacedquill]

FIRST DATE WITH WILL!!!!!!!

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢����𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

Will Graham Masterlist <3

Navigation Page <3

Decided to go with a headcanon for this one because it made the most sense!

✧˖°

We all know it's canon that Will doesn't "date", that's just not his move, and I very much stand behind that sentiment. He doesn't seem up to the dating semantics and investing time in people he isn't sure would be willing to do the same with him.

You two will have been colleagues or friends to some degree for a while before that spark turned into something else. But when it does, he would just be a sweetheart.

Will definitely doesn't seem to be a first date dinner person, and would probably opt for going to a museum, seeing a movie, or teaching you how to fish. These situations have less pressure on the both of you and would let you both have a good time without feeling the need to perform.

You two didn't have the traditional "are we together" conversation, it just wasn't necessary. You love spending time with him, he loves spending time with you, and that was all the clarification you needed.

If you work together, he 10000% will leave small gifts at your desk. Snacks, sweet notes, and, if you're into them, little things for your desk. They'll be random and spontaneous, always bringing a smile to your face (You'll get him back with a surprise coffee before one of his lecture starts :)

You'll likely move in with him once you've both decided you would rather not wake up without each other, and his face will have a smile plastered all over it for the entire moving day. He'll make your first official night together special by cooking you both a lovely dinner, among other things ;)

If he leaves for work before you do, he will ALWAYS give you a kiss before he leaves and makes sure you will have fresh coffee/tea ready. He will leave a sweet little note by your bed so it will be the first thing you see when you wake up.

You both will destress from your busy days together, always making sure to check in with one another and remain in the loop about their daily lives. This would be especially important to Will, whether you work together or not, because his job is very demanding and can feel isolating. He appreciates hearing about your daily doings and it helps him come back to reality in a way.

With his nightmares, you'll come up with a routine that works the best for him. You'll comfort him when he needs, give him space when their especially bad, and will always be open to talk about them if he is comfortable. He'll likely feel guilty for waking you, may even feel like he is imposing on you, but you'll always reassure him otherwise. He'll be grateful, even if he has a hard time expressing it.

You'll be fishing buddies! Whether you fish alongside him or read by the bank, you will always accompany him. This time wouldn't always be spent actively communicating with each other, more so just existing together, and that's beautiful. You appreciate any chance you get to be still together.

As it concerns Hannibal, Will tries to keep you out of that equation. He is somewhat aware of Hannibals habits of manipulation and does not want you to become tangled in that. Now, he doesn't deliberately try to hide you, but does not advertise you either. You're his. Plain and simple. This being said, I don't think Will would hide what happens in his visits from you, but gives you the choice to be as involved as you want to be.

He'll take an interest in your hobbies if you welcome him to. He'll ask about books your reading, crafts you've made, or movies you've watched with genuine curiosity. He loves watching and listening to you talk about something you're passionate about.

Will is BIG on communication. Arguments are handled with utmost respect, and will always be resolved without yelling. You both make a point to bring issues up to each other when they present themselves, because you have a lot of love for each other and the safety you feel in your relationship. That will always be taken seriously.

Overall, your relationship would be beautifully complex. He doesn't take me as the type to settle for someone he isn't absolutely in love with. You will never have to question his love, and neither will he.

✧˖°

The gif I used is from the ever talented @hughdancybabyface. I am very new to using gifs on Tumblr and crediting their creators, any advice is welcome!

I am currently taking requests! Send me all of your lovely Will Graham thoughts, just please read my guidelines first :)

[m00nsbaby]

Helping you with homework.

Moon system x reader. - Headcanons.

Steven.

God bless Steven Grant's heart.

Although you didn't enjoy asking for help with things like this, you knew your boyfriend was the right person for your history assignment.

Unfortunately, remembering dates was your kryptonite.

"I'll explain it to you, okay?" He put on his glasses, and you sighed.

How were you supposed to concentrate when he looked like that?

You watched him go to his room and return with at least six different books in his arms.

And you pushed your chair so close that your shoulders touched.

It started well; you were understanding the timeline from prehistory to the Middle Ages.

However, you didn't take into account that once Steven started talking about his hyperfixations, he didn't stop.

By the second hour, you weren't sure if you were still retaining anything, so you did what your instinct dictated.

You hugged his arm, the one he wasn't using to underline sentences in his book, and your cheek rested against his shoulder.

Steven's heart raced, as it always did when you touched him spontaneously.

"Am I boring you already, love?" He kissed your hair, and shortly after, you felt the weight of his cheek against your head.

"Never," you simply said as the letters began to dance in front of your eyes.

The truth was that his voice relaxed you. Steven had a tendency to speak quickly, his accent resonating in your ears and warming you to your core, but when things got intimate, his voice seemed deeper.

He spoke slowly to make sure you didn't get lost in his words.

You yawned, and he noticed but didn't say anything. In fact, he kept talking.

And talking.

And talking.

Until your eyelids grew heavy.

"And with that, we conclude the topic of feudalism." You had fallen asleep about 10 minutes ago, hugging Steven's arm and feeling his slow breath against your body.

He chuckled, a sound you didn't even register.

Steven didn't feel bad about it; he knew school was taking its toll on you, and that day you hadn't taken your usual daily nap.

He knew better than anyone that you needed rest.

And because he had once read that people feel sleepy when they're comfortable with someone.

He didn't mind having to continue your assignment by himself, doing everything possible not to move you from his shoulder.

And taking breaks now and then to place a hand on your forehead to keep you from falling forward when you nodded off.

The next day, you woke up in your bed, and Steven had already gone to work.

Under a note with a happy face drawn on it were the seven pages of your handwritten essay.

You ended the day with the highest grade in your group, several congratulations, and many embarrassed smiles that screamed, "I didn't even lift the pen off the desk all night."

Marc.

"I beg you." "No."

"Marc?" "No."

"Please?" "I said no."

You had been following him around the house for about 5 hours. Usually, you had no trouble completing your responsibilities from start to finish, but on days like today, you didn't even have the energy to turn on your laptop.

And Marc, of course, had already decided that there was no way he would help you with something like this.

In his school days, he didn't even do his own homework.

"Please, please, please." "I said no."

After begging for the 46th time, you finally gave up. The rest of the day passed just as boringly until dinner when you took the last sip of coffee from your cup.

"I'm not going to do it." After a week of constant sleep deprivation, you decided that you could afford to sleep for 8 hours just this once.

Marc looked at you in silence for a few seconds before nodding his head.

"Then let's go to sleep."

You obeyed, and you both went hand in hand to bed. Like every night, you felt him press you against his body with both arms.

The exhaustion in your body made you give in in less than 10 minutes.

But Marc couldn't sleep.

At 12:27 in the morning, he quietly got out of bed.

And at 01:53, you woke up. The fear of not feeling your daily companion almost made you cry like a little kid.

You got up to look for him, and it wasn't difficult at all. The light from your laptop illuminated the entire dining room.

And the sound of the keys echoed through the house.

"Marc?" "No," he replied again. Admitting such gestures was not his strong suit.

Still, he pushed the chair back to give you space, and you dragged your feet to sit on his lap.

You sat sideways, your head resting on his shoulder as the warmth of his body relaxed you from head to toe.

He kept typing.

You don't know how long you slept there, but a while later, you felt him carry you to bed.

And just a few hours later, your alarm went off, with Marc's arms crushing you against his chest, and your laptop patiently waiting in the dining room.

Jake.

Spanish was never your strong suit.

And you knew very well that Jake was the one who could help you, but once you asked him, you knew he wouldn't stop bothering you.

He, on the other hand, was an expert in both things: speaking fluent Spanish and teasing you.

"Jake?" "Yes, honey?" "Can I ask you something?"

And as you suspected, he didn't leave you alone all day.

"Could you pour me a glass of water?" "¿Perdón? No te escuché." (Sorry? I didn't hear you.)

You looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"¿Y bien?" (Well?)

"Un… vaso de… agua." (A glass of water.) "¿Por qué?" (Why?) "Por favor." (Please.)

You rolled your eyes for the 17th time that day.

And he kissed you for the 23rd time.

"¿Amor?" You looked up from your phone. "¿Cómo se llama esto?" (What's this called?) You watched him point to his fork.

You were 12 seconds away from murdering him with your own hands.

"Tú puedes." (You can do it.) He sounded like the host of a children's program. "Te…"

"Te…" You stared at him, waiting for more clues. "Neeee." "Dor."

Kiss number 27.

You won't deny that you didn't hit him multiple times and gave him full-body shoves since you needed all your strength to at least get him to move.

And he mocked you every time.

"I hate you." "No-oh. Intenta de nuevo." (Try again.) "¡Te odio!"

At least this time he made you laugh.

It turns out that all day you didn't get around to doing the study session you had planned for the day.

And you probably learned more than if you had done it.

Still, you cursed when you felt your boyfriend's hands on your shoulders as he approached you from behind.

You looked up, and he leaned down to your height, with that mischievous smile that seemed permanently etched on his face.

"What?" "Te amo." (I love you.)

You blushed.

"Te amo." you said back as you received a chaste kiss on your lips.

You had lost count.

"Eres el amor de mi vida." (You're the love of my life.) Another kiss. "Espero algún día encontrar las palabras para hacerte saber cuanto te amo." (I hope to someday find the words to let you know how much I love you.)

You stopped paying attention once his lips started brushing against yours as he spoke.

"Te amo." he repeated, placing another kiss on your lips.

And when you thought the day was over, he didn't miss the opportunity to test your patience once more.

"Goodnight, babe." "No te entendí." (I didn't understand you.)

In the darkness, you heard the thump you gave his chest.

"Buenas noches." You kissed his shoulder.

And yes, the next day, you let him enjoy his multiple "I told you so" moments when you passed the exam.

[callsignseagull]

all you had to do was stay ✪ part 9

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!reader

Summary: Six years ago Jake hit your life like a hurricane. In and out in a matter of weeks. You thought after you get over the disappointment of him leaving without saying a word you’d never think of him again. But then two pink lines change your life forever. Now he’s back and still has no idea that the little girl by your side is his daughter.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: a little bit of angst, me not knowing how the navy works so just assume it works like that lol, SMUT 18+ [unprotected sex, oral f receiving, a little breeding kink maybe?, dirty talk, praising, cumplay, the whole thing is pretty filthy considering this series has been quite tame so far lol]

A/N: Here’s part nine!! the final part before the epilogue!!!! enjoy

feedback is always appreciated <3

series masterlist || masterlist

You use every opportunity to distract yourself from the fact that Jake is gone and you don’t know when he’ll be back. If he’ll be back. You really try your best not to think too negatively, but you can’t help worrying. You just hope it gets better with time, because you know for a fact that you’re going to be with Jake when he comes back. If he comes back.

You shake your head to get rid of these thoughts. You have to stay positive, if not for you then for Josie. She’s the ray of hope in your dark thoughts. She doesn’t even consider the fact that Jake might not come back. You know it’s because she doesn’t know the severity of this mission and the dangers of his job in general. But it still cheers you up. 

Thankfully, your week is packed full with promo for your new book. You’ve got several signings and interviews, and you thank whoever is responsibly because it couldn’t have come at a better time. Josie spends a lot of time at Penny’s while you’re working. Penny is restless as well. With your whirlwind of emotions around Jake’s return you completely missed that Penny rekindled an old romance as well. And now you’re both praying that they’ll get back from their mission unscathed.

You’re in LA for the day, being interviewed and doing a signing in a small bookstore. Just like the days before, you’re thankful for the distraction. But it’s also exhausting. You’re not used to this much human interaction, and as much as you love seeing your little readers’ smiling faces and listening to parents tell you how much they love your books, you feel like your own smile is stuck on your face. Your cheeks are hurting. And it’s draining to pretend to be carefree. 

When you finally leave at the end of the day you can’t wait to pick up Josie and go home. You honestly just want to sleep. This was your last commitment for a while and you’re already thinking about just spending a week doing nothing except play with Josie. You need to recharge your batteries.

Back in San Diego, Josie seems equally as excited to see you. 

“Thank you so much for looking after her and Muffin,” you give Penny a hug. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Penny waves her hand dismissively. “I love spending time with these two. And I know both of us could use the distraction.” She gives you a lopsided smile.

You nod your head. “Yeah I guess so. It’s just hard not knowing anything.�� 

“They’ll come back.” Penny sounds certain, but you know she’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to reassure you. 

You feel yourself tearing up, so you just nod again. “You have fun on your sailing trip okay?” Penny and Amelia decided to go on a spontaneous sailing trip first thing tomorrow morning. You know it’s another distraction for Penny, but you don’t mention it.

“We will! And you get some rest, okay?” She gives you that concerned mom look and you have to roll your eyes.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice.” You laugh. “I’ll probably go to bed right after tucking Josie to sleep.” 

Penny laughs, then you call for Josie and head out after saying goodbye to Penny.

Dinner consists of Josie’s favourite take-out, you’re too tired to cook anything and you live for the smile on Josie’s face.

“This is my most favourite!” Josie exclaims and throws the rest of her chicken nugget into her mouth.

You chuckle, “I know, honey.”

“We need to go there again when Daddy comes back.” She says it so matter of fact it makes you smile sadly.

“We will.” You pat her hand gently. “I’m sure he’ll love it just as much.” 

“More than me?” She looks at you with wide eyes.

“Now, that’s impossible. He doesn’t love anything more than you.” You run the back of your hand over her cheek and she smiles.

“Not even you?” It makes you stop for a second. You’re pretty certain he was about to tell you he loves you before he left, but maybe he wanted to say something completely unrelated? You’ve been mulling it over for days, and the more time passes the more you doubt that that’s what he wanted to say. But there’s still a small glimmer of hope somewhere inside you.

You don’t exactly know what to say, so you settle on, “Not even me.” 

Once you’ve tucked Josie into bed you change into more comfortable clothes and curl up on the sofa. You don’t think you can pay attention to anything on TV but you turn it on anyway, even if it’s just a background noise to your spinning thoughts.

✩̿✪̿✩̿

It’s after Josie’s bedtime when Jake uses the key you gave him for the first time. He could’ve rung the bell, the lights in the living room are still on, but he wanted to surprise you. 

Muffin greets him at the door, his tags giving a soft jingling sound not unlike Jake’s dog tags. He smiles. 

“Did you look out for our girls? Yeah? Good boy.” He rubs behind Muffin’s ear, then ventures further into the house. He can faintly hear the TV in the living room, so that’s where he goes, the sound of his heavy boots muffled on the carpet.

There you are, curled up on the sofa, asleep. Jake smiles to himself. He missed you so much. He was only gone for a week, possibly the shortest mission he’s ever been on, but he missed you the second he said goodbye.

He doesn’t really want to wake you, if you fell asleep on the couch you probably need the sleep. But he wants to see your eyes, your smile, wants to hear your voice. So he slowly crouches down by your side and gently pushes your hair out of your face before running the back of his hand over your cheek, back and forth until your eyelids start to flutter.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers and then your eyes finally snap open. He watches as they fill with tears and then you throw your arms around his neck and pull him close. It only takes him a millisecond to reciprocate the hug. Holding you tight, he leaves kisses on your temple. 

After a while you lean back to look at him and seeing the tears streaming down your face breaks his heart. “What are you crying for?” 

“Happy tears,” you assure. “I’m just happy to see your stupid face again.”

He chuckles, “You don’t think my face is stupid.”

You shake your head. “No, I really don’t.” 

This makes Jake laugh out loud. He squeezes you a little tighter. “I missed you, too.” 

And then you stand there just looking at each other.

*

He’s home. You still think you’re dreaming as you stare at him standing right in front of you. His green eyes are sparkling in the low light of the living room and you’re filled with such a warmth you can’t put it into words. Or maybe you can. Because it’s love. You love him. You’re about to open your mouth and just blurt the words but Jake is quicker.

“There’s something I promised to tell you when I get back.” He whispers, running his thumb over your cheek.

You nod, “And what’s that?” You don’t dare speak louder than a whisper, afraid to burst the bubble you’re in.

Jake’s eyes roam over your face before they lock on yours again. “I love you.” He says and then new tears are in your eyes.

“I love you, too.” 

Jake seems just a little bit surprised at your words, “Yeah?” he sounds hopeful.

“Yeah,” you nod, “so much.” 

“C’mere.” And then he finally pulls you into a kiss. You bury your hands in his short hair and pull him as close as you possibly can.

Never before has a kiss made you feel this much. Kissing Jake has always been special, you used to think it was just because of the sexual tension between you two, but it’s more than that. You don’t ever want to kiss someone else ever again.  

Somehow you end up straddling him on the sofa, his hands on your hips. You feel him growing hard beneath you and it doesn’t help with curbing your own arousal. As you start grinding your hips against his, Jake moans into your mouth.

“Maybe we should take this to the bedroom,” you say, after pulling away just enough to talk. The tip of your nose is still brushing against his.

“You sure? We don’t have to.” Jake leans back just a little bit more so he can look at you. His thumbs have slipped under the fabric of your t-shirt, rubbing gentle circles on your skin.

“I’m sure,” you nod. “I wanna feel you.” You feel Jake’s hands tighten around your hips before he lets out a breath.

“Okay,” he gives you one more deep kiss before he lifts you up and makes his way over to your bedroom. He gently lays you down on your bed, his hands roaming over your body and you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anybody so bad.

You tried dating a few times since Josie was born, but nothing ever came of it. Did you need someone to scratch that certain itch every once in a while? Yes. And you got that. But it never became more than that.

But this? This didn’t feel like you needed to scratch an itch, to just get it over with and then you can go on with your life. Nothing has even really happened yet and you already know you won’t be able to get enough of him. 

Slowly, so slowly, you undress each other. Both of you cherishing every inch of skin exposed. Until you’re bare in front of him, your knees either side of his head while he trails kisses over your inner thighs.

“So pretty,” he murmurs against your skin. “I missed your pretty pussy so much.” He gently runs his thumb over your clit and it sends a jolt of electricity up your spine. “Missed your taste.” And then he leaves a kiss on your clit before licking a stripe up your middle. “So sweet,” he hums before doing it again. All you can do is bury your hands in his hair, arch your back and pull him closer. 

It’s like devouring you is Jake’s favourite pastime, he’s got his eyes closed, one of his hands gripping your thigh, the other on your belly to keep your hips steady. And every time you’re about to come, he moves away and peppers kisses on your inner thighs again.

“Jake, please.” You finally whine, tugging on his hair. 

“Please, what?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Need you inside me.” You give his hair another tug, and he finally crawls over you, so his head is hovering over yours. You can smell yourself on his lips and it makes even more warmth pool between your thighs.

You can’t really read the expression on his face until he says, “I didn’t bring any protection.” He gently moves your hair out of your face.

“I don’t have anything here either,” you realise. You weren’t expecting to have sex anytime soon. Were you thinking about doing it with Jake? Absolutely. But you didn’t allow yourself to actually consider it until he was home safe. You sigh. “And I’m not on birth control, either,” you admit. “It should be a safe time though …” you trail off. Is it reckless to have unprotected sex when you’ve already had an unplanned pregnancy? Yes, absolutely. Is the thought as scary as it should be? No.

“You mean …?” Jake tilts his head.

“I’m healthy. And if you’re planning on sticking around …” 

Jake places a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m sticking around. I’m not gonna leave again, unless you want me to. I might not always be around, but I’ll always come home to you. Always.” The honesty in his voice makes you tear up again. You wind your legs around his hips and feel him heavy against your thigh.

“If you’re okay with it … I’m willing to risk it.” You haven’t even fully uttered the sentence before his lips are on yours again.

“I’m willing to risk it with you any time, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” you say and pull him into another kiss. 

“And I love you. So much.” 

And then he positions himself at your entrance and slowly pushes in. You throw your head back because it just feels that good. When his hips are flush against yours he pauses for a second, both of you enjoying the feeling of finally being together. 

Jake starts moving in and out of you slowly, filling you with leisurely thrusts. And it feels so good. Until you need more.

“More,” you moan.

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna last.”

“That’s okay.” 

“I want you to come first.”

“I’ll come with you.” You move your hands between your bodies and start rubbing your clit. It doesn’t take long for Jake to pick up his thrusts, the tip of his cock rubbing against your g-spot every time.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his movements becoming erratic.

“Come for me Jake,” you whine. “Come inside me, please.”

You feel him starting to twitch inside you. “Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” And then he’s kissing you again, swallowing your moans while bucking his hips into you, his release painting your walls and you’re right there with him. Goosebumps are covering your body and all you can feel is him.

You stay like that for a while, both of you catching your breath, his heavy weight on top of you, but you’re enjoying it. You feel safe, you feel loved.

When Jake pulls out his eyes are fixated on the way your combined come drips out of you.

“So fucking beautiful,” he runs his fingers through your folds, spreading your juices, and starts playing with your clit. A moan bursts out of you.

“You got one more in you”?

“I don’t know, Jake.”

“C’mon, baby. One more.” The nickname is new, but you don’t mind it. It makes your insides flutter.

“Kiss me.” He obliges, his thumb on your clit as he enters you with two of his fingers while kissing you senseless. When he moves his kisses down your neck you can’t contain your moans.

“You gotta be quiet, baby. As much as I’d love to hear you scream for me. Can you do that for me?” You nod and bite your lips together. “Good girl.”

It doesn’t take long until you’re on the edge again and with one more flick of your clit you’re coming again.

“That’s it. That’s it, baby. Just like that. Look at you. So gorgeous.” Jake’s words and his gentle caresses carry you through your orgasm until you’re completely spend and you’re too sensitive. When he notices, he moves his hand away and gives you another kiss. “My sweet girl. So good for me.” 

“I love you.” It seems you can’t stop telling him.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles. “I love you.”

 ✩̿✪̿✩̿

You’re woken up by a trail of kisses being left on your shoulder. You’re still tired but at the same time you feel like you’re filled to the brim with energy. You and Jake didn’t get much sleep last night. Turns out when he said ‘one more’ he was lying. Because there were two more in the shower after that.

You slowly turn around so you can look at him. His hair is messy and the warm sunshine falling through the window makes him look like an angel.

“Hi.” You can’t contain your smile and Jake mirrors your expression.

“Hi,” with the arm he’s got wrapped around you he pulls you closer to him. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

You didn’t think it was possible but your smile becomes even bigger. “Good morning.” 

“You look happy.” 

“I am.” You admit. “Could get used to waking up like this.” You wind your leg around his hip, and you can feel him against your core even through multiple layers of clothing, it’s enough to make your heart start racing. The look in Jake’s eyes becomes heated.

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your ass and gives it a squeeze. It makes you giggle.

“Mhm.” You nod, shuffling just a little closer to him.

“Well, funny you mention that, actually.” Jake’s hand is running over your back and it takes a moment for his words to register.

“Huh? What do you mean?” You sit up a little, shifting so now Jake’s on his back while you’re partially hovering above him.

“I’ve got this new position that requires me to stay in San Diego long term. And I kind of need a place to stay.” You can only look at him with wide eyes. What? “I don’t have to … I can just … If you don’t want me to, I can look for a place of my own. I didn’t mean to just … invite myself, I guess. I just thought—“

You interrupt him with a kiss. “You’re staying here?” 

“Yeah,” he nods and smiles a little sheepishly. “I got a position at Top Gun. Nothing special but with the possibly of becoming an instructor one day.” He shrugs. “I’ll be right here for the foreseeable future. I wanna be close to you and Josie. Even if you don’t want me moving in, which I understand—“

“You want to move in?”

“Of course I do. We’ve already lost so much time, I’ve lost so much time with Josie … I don’t want to lose any more. You’re it for me sweetheart. I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Your mouth drops open at that.

“If you want to.” He smiles. “I want to give you your dream life, with the husband and the white picket fence … two point five kids.“ 

You pinch him playfully, but then lean in to give him another kiss.

“Sounds like a plan,” you murmur, before kissing him again. Jake pulls you closer and you can feel the smile on his lips. He breaks the kiss and you can tell he’s about to say something when you hear the door being opened slowly.

It’s Saturday morning, and that usually means Josie will come over for some cuddles before breakfast. You turn to the door with a smile.

Josie pokes her head in, her hair messy from sleep and here eyes still halfway closed. That changes when she notices you’re not alone.

“Daddy?”

“Hey, Peanut.” That’s all it takes for Josie to come running towards the bed, climbing on it and tackling Jake in a hug.

“I missed you soooooooo much,” Josie shouts, and Jake laughs.

“I missed you, too. Every second of every day,” he smiles. 

 ✩̿✪̿✩̿

Just like you promised yourself you would, you spent the following week doing nothing except spend time with Josie. Except, you’re not doing it alone but with Jake. He’s got a bit of free time before starting his new position and while he needs to move his stuff down from Lemoore, he claims he doesn’t have much to move, one trip would suffice. 

Together, the two of you decided to just take the plunge and have him move in. Why waste any more time? Josie was quite possibly the biggest fan of that idea. Jake will have a shadow 24/7 if she has her way, but you don’t think Jake would have a problem with that.

“You ready?” Jake pokes his head into the bathroom, where you’re finishing your make-up. 

“Almost.”

“I love you.” 

You turn to Jake with a smile. He’s been saying it every chance he gets, says he needs to make up for the last six years. 

“I love you, too, you big goof.” 

“Hey!” He playfully pouts, “don’t let the others hear you call me that. I have a reputation to uphold.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “And what would you like me to call you instead?”

Jake stalks into the bathroom, pretending to think. He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “How about Daddy?” He whispers and you can’t stop the goosebumps from appearing on your arms.

“Why am I not surprised?” You laugh. “Should’ve known you’re into that.” 

Jake hums, then says, “Only because you made me one.”

*

The Hard Deck is not super busy this evening, it’s still early and the middle of the week but Jake wanted to introduce you to the people who made sure he got home safe. Even though he was the one who saved Maverick and Rooster, but Jake won’t be petty. Maybe. 

Jake’s almost bursting with excitement as he pulls you by the hand, Josie on his hip. The group’s chatting in the back of the bar but as soon as they spot Jake all conversation stops.

“Is that Bagman or am I hallucinating?” Phoenix stage whispers. 

Coyote nods, “I think it’s real.” 

Jake rolls his eyes before pulling you into his side. “I wanted you guys to meet my family.” He introduces you, then looks at Josie. “And this is my daughter Josie.” 

Josie blushes, then rests her head on his shoulder and waves. 

For a moment the rest of the squad just stare. Then Phoenix is the first to speak up again, “Hi, Josie. It’s so nice to meet you.” She gives Jake a look as if she’s never seen him before. 

“I guess that explains where you’ve been half the time.” Coyote muses. 

“I had some groveling to do,” Jake nods. “And they’re much better company than you guys.” 

The whole group breaks out into protest but Jake just shrugs his shoulders. 

He turns to you, “You good on your own for a moment? I’ll go get us something to drink.” 

“Of course, go ahead.” You smile and for a second Jake just takes you in, then he sets Josie down beside you and gives you a kiss. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

At the bar, Jake leans against the bar top and watches as you talk to the squad. He didn’t realise it, but while he was starting to rebuild his relationship with you and getting to know Josie, the three of you slowly becoming a family, he also gained another family. He knows he was an asshole when they were first put together as a team, but ultimately, he grew to love these people. Even Rooster.

As if he had conjured him, Rooster shows up next to him. A certain understanding pass between the two men, then Rooster says, “You look good, Hangman.” 

Jake huffs a laugh and smiles, “I am good, Rooster. I’m very good. I’m happy.”

~~~

A/N: This is it... the end. For now at least. I wanna write an epilogue so that will be coming but then it's time to say goodbye to these :(( who else is sad about that?

taglist: @annathesillyfriend​ ✪ @lovebittenbyevans​ ✪ @heyhihellowhatsup0​ ✪ @one-sweet-gubler​ ✪ @wooya1224​ ✪ @iammirrorball​ ✪ @lolcaca​ ✪ @caitsymichelle13​ ✪ @soulmates8​ ✪ @soleilgrec​ ✪ @lilylilyyyyyy​ ✪ @winters-queen​ ✪ @i0veless​ ✪ @the-romanian-is-bae​ ✪ @mandyppp​ ✪ @dempy​ ✪ @mizuki80​ ✪ @averyhotchner​ ✪ @babyice1274​ ✪ @captain-fandomwriter58​ ✪ @hangmanscoming​ ✪ @caidi-paris​ ✪ @linkpk88​ ✪ @djs8891​ ✪ @lnmp89​ ✪ @startrekfangirl2233​ ✪ @gigisimsonmars ✪ @clancycucumber230 ✪ @emilyoflanternhill​ ✪ @roostersforevergirl​ ✪ @celestialeviereads​ ✪ @blackwidownat2814​ ✪ @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak​ ✪ @grxcisxhy-wp​ ✪ @atarmychick007​ ✪ @dakotakazansky​ ✪ @alana4610​ ✪ @memoriesat30​ ✪ @entertainmentgal8​ ✪ @shanimallina87​ ✪ @smoothdogsgirl ✪ @i3k2ts​ ✪ @frenchtoastix​ ✪ @twsssmlmaa​ ✪ @elijahmikaelsonbitch​ ✪ @simpxmarvel​ ✪ @harrysgothicbitch​ ✪ @midwestmarvelbabe​ ✪ @lunamoonbby​ ✪ @wkndwlff​ ✪  @anarchyrising​

[seelestia]

— 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄?

SUMMARY. in which you decide to do their eye makeup for them and the many antics that come with it.

CHARACTERS. zhongli, alhaitham, xiao, wanderer, gorou, itto.

GENRE. fluff, slight crack, established relationship.

CW. close proximity, one use of pet name, zhongli sorta acts like a cat, alhaitham is a lil insufferable but you love him, wanderer is also an inch away from choking you (affectionately).

THOUGHTS. question: is their eye makeup waterproof or do they apply it every morning?? fascinating. p/s: happy birthday to @zhongrin! lots of love to one of the best people i've ever met on this site <3

✰ masterlist.

© written by @seelestia. do not copy, translate, repost to other sites nor claim as yours!

— ZHONGLI.

❝Apologies, dear. Is this distance acceptable?❞

ZHONGLI smells of rich cologne and the vapor of tea brews wafting through the air when you step into a teahouse. You know this, of course, you've buried yourself in his embrace countless times before — but to have your face so close to his like this, you've never felt an urge to look away quite this strong before.

You stay composed, however, Zhongli can't always be the only one with the cool composure in this household, after all. "Mhm, perfect," you nod with a quiet hum as he closes his eyes, settling his chin in your palm so snugly that you laugh.

"You're like a cat," you remark, trying to suppress the littlest impulse to bump your forehead onto his in an affectionate way. "Is that so?" Gentle eyes that resemble amber gemstones flutter open to meet yours.

(Almost, were you accidentally about to poke his eye out of sheer panic from his beauty. Almost.)

"I'm glad to know that comparing me to felines seems to bring you amusement," Zhongli brushes his hand against your hair, "But let us focus on the task at hand, my love."

"Lest we miss our reservation at Liuli Pavilion. It is most polite to be punctual," he reminds you. How mean of him; to say such things and expect you to fully register it when he is softly rubbing your cheek like this as if lulling you to sleep.

Seriously, the amount of self-control you have to muster spontaneously in order to fight off the need to lean further into his hand is indescribable. Who's supposed to be the feline again? Anyway. "Okay, okay, I won't dawdle anymore," you adjust his chin in your hold as your other works to bring up the eyeliner to his eye.

"My husband has to look his best, after all," you slip in a little joke."Of course, darling," but Zhongli's answer doesn't sound like he's kidding at all.

(How can he say that with such a straight face? This man, seriously.)

— ALHAITHAM.

❝You're actually concentrating, I'm impressed.❞

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" you scrunch your face, frowning at how his words are jabbing at your pride. Has he not realized the power you have in your hands right now? You could actually poke his eyes with the eyeliner you're holding if you want to — not like you would, but Alhaitham is making it a smidgen harder to resist.

"I can focus, alright?" Huffing, you put aside your trivial grudges to grab his chin softly with your other hand. Alhaitham relents with an entertained smile, "All those times you fall asleep every time I read to you says otherwise."

"Well, that's— that's different," you stammer. In your defense, most of the books he chose to read to you are either theoretical physics or philosophies; it's a wonder how you're lulled to sleep even though it isn't a storybook. Of course, Alhaitham's library is a range of wide genres but you're starting to think he picks those books solely for you.

You're pulled out of your train of thoughts when you put in some distance to view your finished artwork. With Alhaitham's face as the canvas, somewhat comically.

(Well, aren't his eyes pretty? They look even sharper when accented with the eyeliner... whether that be for better or for worse. You shake your head internally at any poor person who happens to test his patience later today.)

"Wow," you mumble dazedly, "Red eyeliner really suits you." He raises an eyebrow at the genuineness in your quiet voice but only lifts his face away from your hand in response. Alhaitham regards your efforts in the mirror beside the two of you with a hum, "Maybe we should make this a routine, then."

There is a little something oddly hidden behind his sentence. Accusingly, you voice your suspicion by squinting your eyes at the Scribe, "...You just don't wanna do it yourself, do you?" And he enables it without a doubt, "Feel free to speculate."

(Ugh, this man.)

"But regardless..." he crosses his arms against his chest with a nod, "It doesn't look so bad."

(Would it have killed him from the inside out to say a compliment with a positive connotation? Okay, whatever, you love him.)

— XIAO.

❝....❞

Silent, quiet, and frozen in place like a statue.

The mere presence of those traits are more than enough reasons to have you worrying whether or not XIAO is still breathing. He is, thankfully, you can confirm that from the close proximity between the two of you and you mentally let out a sigh of relief.

(Thank the Archons you didn't lean in any further lest you would've heard how terribly his poor heart is faring and he doesn't want that.)

There is one more problem, however.

"You don't have to close your eyes that hard, you know..." you try to start, but Xiao still doesn't falter one bit; "It is of utmost necessity," he insists for the nth time since you've lost count.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

(Talk about stubborn.)

Your question is coming from a place of genuine concern because the frown on his forehead looks like it's going to engrave itself there forever from how intensely he is closing his eyes... Doesn't that hurt? You resist the urge to soothe away that frown with your thumb.

It's a good thing that it's only the two of you here right now, though. A stranger would be scared to death if they were to be gazed at with such an intense look and from the Conqueror of Demons at that. Oh, whatever will happen to your efforts of trying to prove to the children at Liyue Harbor that Xiao is actually a softie? Gee.

(But still, you can't help but smile.)

"Utmost necessity, huh?" you echo back his words with a hum. Your intentions bear no mockery but it seems the adeptus still manages to find some sort of dissatisfaction in your reaction. "Do not smile at me like that," Xiao mutters within a choked exhale that only serves to make him come off less stern than he would've liked.

His eyes are still, very much, closed as far as you can see.

The irony of it all tickles a chuckle out of you, mirth glazed over your eyes. "Is this an Adepti art I'm not aware of or are you secretly looking at me even with your eyes closed?" you ask cheekily. Xiao's cheeks are but a mere inch away from bursting into flames and he can only use words as his defense.

"...There is no need for you to know," he huffs.

Well, he isn't denying it, that's for sure.

(The answer is intuition.)

— WANDERER.

❝...Are you done yet? Any more second of this torture and I might just perish from boredom.❞

You're doing his makeup for him and this is the kind of treatment you get? You would've faked a gasp if you weren't so busy holding in a laugh over how his body is betraying his speech. That flustered look on WANDERER's face isn't helping his case at all.

"Uh-huh," your drawled out reply is enough of an indication to show that you're not really taking his words (threats?) seriously. Wanderer's bark can be as harsh as his bite, but you've never minded all the barks he sends your way — so much so that you barely even spare him any eye contact in favor of perfecting the red shade you're trying to blend around his eyelids.

(Perfection requires concentration, they say.)

But that doesn't mean you can't see anything else, though. You're uncertain if the Wanderer realizes this or somehow forgets because you can, in fact, see from your peripheral vision — and from said peripheral angle, he seems to be looking at something of yours rather intensely.

"You're staring at my lips," you point out.

"Shut it," he grumbles out his defense as fast as lightning.

(Caught him red-handed.)

"Sorry," you chuckle teasingly, "If you want a kiss, you're gonna have to wait for a bit." The way he looks so undeniably irritated by your statement makes you have no other option but to burst into a mini chuckling fit.

"Ugh, it's not like you can't lean in closer to—" His mouth snaps to a stop once it dawns on him; that your words are an attempt at reading his mind and he is technically confirming it to your face.

"Actually, nevermind, whatever. Just get this over and done with," he averts his eyes quickly with a scowl that feels as harmless as a naby deer (to you, anyway). "Giving up already?" you raise an eyebrow jokingly. With how Wanderer closes his eyes with a sigh, you assume he is only mere seconds away from giving your forehead a good flick.

"Don't think you're completely off the hook," he sternly interjects with a huff, "You still owe me some kind of compensation for taking your sweet time with this."

"And will that compensation be in the form of a kiss, per chance?" you hum amusedly.

"...It better be," he closes his eyes as if to signify the end of his willingness to comment any further.

Wanderer has never been one to shy away from the truth, but that is only because its taste always turns out bitter. Yet, in this case, when the truth entails something as embarrassingly sweet as desiring a kiss from you, then it becomes a conundrum for him.

After all, he is not fond of sweet things but he is fond of you. Maybe, this close proximity is getting to his head a little too much for his liking — darn it, he knew this was a bad idea the moment you showed him those puppy eyes.

— GOROU.

❝This is... embarrassing...❞

GOROU looks like he is merely a hair's breadth away from digging a hole into the ground and burrowing in it forever. But thankfully, the only thing keeping him on the surface happens to be you, the person holding him still by the cheek.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about," you squish his cheek gently and Gorou lets out a noise akin to a little whine. "What if one of the soldiers sees us?" he protests, yet makes no actual initiative to remove himself from your grasp.

"Let them," you tap the eyeliner pen against his forehead two times and he winces dramatically as if you just struck him over the head. "Ouch!" Gorou rubs the sore spot instinctively and you can feel a faint trickle of guilt (even though you only hit him with the amount of strength someone would need to blow a dandelion), yet that is still not enough to the little lecture you're about to give him.

"Being the General of the Resistance doesn't mean you have to do everything yourself. It's okay to rely on someone to do something for you once in a while, you know."

"Even something as small as letting them do your eye makeup for you," you huff with a proud smile as an emphasis, carefully tracing a line on the outer part above his eyes.

"...Mmpf," the muffled noise that comes out of his mouth has you raising an eyebrow. Although unsure if it's because of that pout on his lips or his puffed cheeks, you still let out a little laugh at the thought of said possibilities anyway.

"Pfft, what's that sound?" you tease, "Does that mean you agree with me or not?"

"[Y/N]," Gorou calls your name in a stern tone or at least, tries to.

(He has never been good at scolding people but he swears if you keep on teasing him, he'll actually explode. ...And by that, he means melting into a puddle of jelly on the ground.)

— ITTO.

❝You gotta make em' look super dope, alright? Make sure you put more highlights on this one! And oh, this one right here too!❞

No one really knows whether the tattoos on ITTO's skin are actually real or not. Knowing he is someone of Oni blood doesn't narrow down the answer any further but if you were to ask him about them yourself, Itto prefers to call them "100% natural, baby!".

Not to mention, he is always looking for ways to make them stand out or look cooler — which led to this grand idea of asking you to do his makeup for him because apparently, your touch is magical since you're his favorite person on this emtire planet (his words, not yours).

...He can come up with the most random things to say sometimes. But hey, seeing a grown Oni beg on his knees sure was something and you didn't have the heart to say no to him.

"Sooooo," Itto starts with an attempt to clear his throat professionally, "How does it feel like having the honor to prepare me for my next battle?" he accentuates his sentence with a series of haughty laughter that cause his shoulders to shake vigorously.

"Don't move," you scrunch your face with a frown, pinching him indignantly for nearly breaking your focus. "Yikes! Sorry, sorry, I'll stay still!" the Oni yelps, a noise so embarrassing he almost cups his mouth like second nature.

But he doesn't do that, in fear of being pinched by your lovely fingers and proceeds to look at you with eyes befitting that of a kicked puppy's. "...You'll come and cheer for me, right?" Itto asks pleadingly and you smile.

"Of course," you say and he has to resist the urge to do a full-on fist bump into the air. But you still have some more left to say as you continue, "Just don't cry if you lose, alright? You'll ruin the makeup and besides...." There is a devious grin resting on your face now, "You don't want the kids to think your face makeup look like tear marks, don't you?"

Yup, there comes that offended gasp you've been waiting for.

"What— heck no!" Itto places a hand on his chest dramatically, "Tear marks?! Preposterous! The Arataki Itto doesn't shed tears! Of course not!" You can only hide your giggles behind your palm while Itto struggles to defend his wounded pride.

"...Forrealthough, doesitactuallylookliketearmarks—"

Now, you've got him second-guessing himself (but at least, he's cute?).

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

© SEELESTIA, may 2023. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @hcikazu @tsuk4sa-yug1 @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @daisydkj @omgscaramouche @coquettemaiden @lemontum @herdrops @lleoll @xiaosonlybeloved @chiisananingen @irethepotato @ainescribe @blooodyvampy @starlightaura @jihyuniepark @duhsies @maybemiko @lordbugs @sakkakuu-squared — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]

[ricep0pp]

already having to relive the Octavian/Luke comparisons and i think i may in fact spontaneously combust.

the blatant misremembering of Octavians character simply because readers just went along with whatever the main cast thought is honestly a little bit infuriating. he's the most spectrum coded character in HoO and most of his actions up until he is literally *brainwashed by Gaea* are justifiable.

"b-but he destroyed Percy's pillow pet comfort item!!" okay, maybe think about how he has to do this with his own comfort items every day? it's literally his job and it's very likely that nobody has ever gotten upset with him over it before. and *Reyna told him to do this* so why are we mad at octavian if it was an order from the praetor to do an augur thing and the easiest way to do that was with an item that had a connection to Percy?

i will also never get over the banquet scene at the beginning of MoA. Octavian literally does nothing wrong here but the characters decide that they just really want to make him the butt of every joke simply because they find him 'annoying'.

after Reyna does the toast and Jason is recounting their rescue of Hera/Juno, Octavian interrupts him in an exclamation of disbelief that they hadn't noticed that the queen of the gods had been imprisoned in a location that was very important to the romans. is interrupting rude? yes, but he obviously seems distraught over the fact that Juno was unknowingly imprisoned. instead of politely explaining the full extent of the situation, what does Piper do? immediately use charmspeak on him.

next, when Percy praises Jason's skills ("No wonder they made you praetor."), Octavian immediately brings up the fact that they have three praetors now that Jason has returned. this is really important, especially from his perspective since he's such a stickler for rules and regulations. Percy decides to immediately abtagonize him, and then completely dismiss his frustration over Percy choosing to step aside for Jason. Octavian has every right to be offended over this, even if it's not necessarily the most correct time to bring it up. Percy antagonizes him, and then basically blatantly insults him by treating the position he's worked his entire life for as if it's nothing important.

after that, Reyna has Octavian recite the great prophecy, ignoring his hesitancy (that is entirely warranted considering greece and rome have been at war for literal millenia). when Annabeth recites the last two lines of the prophecy and Frank brings up her parentage, Octavian has a right to be skeptical. in rome, Minerva isnt even a war goddess, and doesn't have children. without understanding how the gods operate in their seperate forms, it's reasonable, considering they arrived in a war ship, are being lead by a child of a war goddess that they are wholly unfamilliar with in more ways than most of the other major gods, and are, in fact, greek, to be suspicious of the groups intentions.

when Annabeth and Percy list the seven demigods they believe should go on the quest, Octavian is again rightfully upset. There are rules and procedures that are being completely ignored, and by visitors that are already suspicious to him and have made it very clear that they do not care about his opinion, even though he's on the senate and *the fucking augur.* he is once again interrupted, but this time by the book itself as Tyson shows up.

Ella then recites the 'mark of Athena' prophecy, which Octavian *once again* has every right to know about. prophecies are his job, and his entire *personality* as far as camp jupiter is concerned. i understand that it basically says 'Annabeth will destroy rome' but her secrecy in regards to the quest her mother gave her has never once made sense and is not justified in any way. instead of even saying something simple along the lines of 'Athena made me swear to secrecy', Percy for some reason is made to be the character that needs rescuing (in a situation that has nothing to do with him) and Annabeth takes the opportunity to make Octavian into the fool in front of all of his peers. it feels even worse later on when Annabeth and Reyna discuss the prophecy but only to agree that it even *is* one, and for no purpose beyond that for several paragraphs.

THEN when Leo offers a tour of the Argo II to Octavian and Reyna *once again* dismisses his suspicions, she winds up partly to blame for the resulting attack, as well as Leo for never telling anyone about gaea, and Annabeth for not saying anything when she noticed Leo was acting off. when Gaea attacks CJ and Octavian relays to Annabeth that he saw Leo open fire on the city, she assumes he's pulling some trick to get them to fight each other. she had known him for all of maybe a few hours and for some reason, watching her friends and boyfriend openly bully him has convinced her that he could be evil?

mind you, all of the above events happened over the course of *two* chapters, both of which are from the perspective of Annabeth who had only just met Octavian.

he only really began doing things you could consider 'evil' once gaea had fullt brainwashed him and driven him mad. and even then, he gets a fucking joke death?? as the only character up to this point that i was ever able to identify with on an ASD level, that feels really shitty! and the fact that the fandom just jumped on the Octavian hate train really drives home how people cannot handle spectrum coding/writing/*people* unless its presented in a cutesie helpless way.

but back to the original point of Octavian being compared to Luke; Luke was scheming the *entire* time we knew him. He did not want to protect his home, he did not have any real morals or self imposed rules. all he cared about was getting back at Hermes for not showing he cared about him (which is kind of bs considering Hermes is one of the busiest gods in the pantheon but as a fellow neglected kid i get it.) Luke was willing to do this in any way, even if it meant literally destroying the world. Octavian was just trying to keep his home safe in the way that any historical roman would have.

You also kind of have to consider his background. he was left at camp as an unwanted baby. we dont even know if his parents named him or if the camp did. his only identity is that he's a legacy of Apollo with a gift that is incredibly useful to CJ. this, along with his very clear coding (whether intentional on Rick's part or not), only shows me a character that was always unwanted and outcasted from the only place he even could call home. he doesnt want to be praetor for power, he wants to be praetor to prove to everyone (and himself) that he's worthy of being one of them. if he wanted power for the sake of power he could easily use his augur position to manipulate his way up, but never once do we see him attempt this. it doesn't help that he's named after THE Gaius Julius Ceasar Augustus, the man that founded the fucking roman empire in the first place. imagine how that must feel? to have your identity tied to such massive, larger than life people? imagine feeling like you have to live up to that in a place that seemingly fucking hates you for existing and only keeps you around because youre useful??

i really wish people would stop blatantly villainizing Octavian, dudes literally just an 18 year old autistic kid that was victimized by Gaea. give him a break, please.

[ov105]

Express Moon

Never have I written anything where I switched leads so many times. It’s depicted as a quickie, but it’s writing process was anything but. I just had too many ladies that fit what happens when you read more. That being said, I’m probably taking a bit of a break, I still have ideas, but I need some time to flesh them out to begin writing.

Hopefully, this would do good despite the hectic changes that I did.

2,938 words of Jo Yuri. 

Enjoy!

Rubbing my forehead, I slammed my laptop down. The audible thud left me thinking I couldn't take this shit any longer. Grumbling, I decided to plop down on the couch and sleep it off. Hopefully, I'll return feeling like doing my tasks instead of giving my monitor a fistful. I also hoped, for about the second I looked outside, that it was just the storm making me moody.

Lying on the couch, I didn't want to turn on the TV. Reading anything but social media to not further my stress, I was already beginning to entertain the thought of eating the ramyeon or just going to sleep. It was neither of those.

Hearing the four beeps of the keypad lock shook me awake. It was Yuri, and she had only a slightly better disposition than I.

"Bad day?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she lightly nodded.

Sitting on the couch, Yuri put her backpack beside mine and snuggled beside me. She was getting lost in her world—through her phone—beside me. All I knew was she was reading another book on it.

Having moved to dorms just a train ride closer to campus, the only thing that separated us was an elevator ride. It was an open secret between our friend groups, which despite their best efforts, couldn't bust us. And I thought they were better than Dispatch. However, we agreed that we were in too deep at this rate. Yuri crashed into my place more often than she should, often only leaving to sleep in her bed. But besides that, she wasn't a menace either, if only that meant having to eat somewhat less.

But then, she gave me an idea of what she was thinking.

Yuri's left hand snuck down my shirt, dropping subtlety as she slipped in under my shorts and grabbed onto my shaft. Slowly massaging it, I could just imagine the silent giggle on her face.

"Yuri."

I called out, and she just turned to me. Grin on her face. Trying to beat her to it, I knew refusing a hot-blooded 21-year-old was a bad idea. I also needed something to take me off of things.

"On the floor," I pointed.

Yuri stood up, turned around, and pulled her shirt off herself. Wearing a black bra, I knew she matched it with her panties, proving myself right when she unbuttoned her pants—knowing that it was my favorite color of her underwear, one that made her blush when I had complimented her wearing it.

"Couldn't you wait until after dinner?" I asked.

"Dinner can wait."

She knelt without removing the rest, stripping me down until she was right before what she wanted. Barely able to count to ten from throwing my clothes away, opening my legs, and now licking my cock, already halfway erect, in its length before wrapping her lips around it. Her fingers came around like a ring on the base, cradling my balls as her mouth propped them up. Having confessed to liking the feeling of my cock becoming hard as her tongue worked around it. Closing her eyes, pulling her pace a bit, sucking with her lips and relishing it as her tongue cradled it, letting the soft tissues flood with blood, hardening into solid flesh that began striking her palate at every stroke.

As she held her hair up in a ball, I felt her throat starting to constrict a bit as it struck the back of her mouth, making it seem Yuri was wavering. However, she wasn't one to ruin her surprises too early. Spontaneity was more of my thing. Deciding to double down or pull her mouth back could only tell me if we were having sex. She did the latter, leaving my shaft hard and wet as her lips drew circles around the tip. On some days, she decided to play me longer, and this was one of those days.

Giving herself a better grip, she then pulled away. Only using her tongue, licking my cock, stroking it when she wanted to, and sometimes letting the saliva drip down her lips. Her eyes gave me that stare, far from blank or mindless, but told me all I needed to know; she just wanted to give me a blowjob that bad.

Having small, perfectly shaped lips for a blowjob, The way she had me, quite literally, on a tight grip that only her vagina could match. Grazing her lips along one side and her tongue down the other end before keeping it at the tip.

"You like it sloppy, right?" Yuri asked.

I meant to answer, but instead, an approving smirk formed on my lips.

"Alright."

Just then, she caged the tip, played around with it, and then dove down halfway. A loud slurp followed her mouth as she looped, then back down again, a messy slurping following as she rose back up. Opening her mouth at times just to see my cock appear and disappear back into it, again and again. The saliva she was carelessly putting everywhere now gave her all the leverage she needed over me. My cock, now frozen solid in her hands, the tip having glossed over from how much she licked it, the wick, her lusting mouth being the matchstick that had lit it just minutes ago.

A bobbing motion came over her as she closed her eyes and gently craned her neck, not too fast, not too slow. Just fitting enough to fit the crosshairs of what defined a perfectly sloppy blowjob. Maybe not, just biting my lip every time a shock came up from below and a twitch from watching her.

And even when she was at her sluttiest, she was still gentle enough not to play dirty, and when she had control—we were in each other's grip—it was odd to think of thrusting my hips now.

One, two, three; gawk, gawk, gawk.  

That was the sequence Yuri took. Seeing her small face bouncing so dirtily on my cock left me with few words nor synonyms to describe it.

Feeling her throat tightening up as it struck it, now that she was more daring, she didn't seem to mind. It was, however, not unusual to see her trying to fight her gagging on my cock, stopping for a bit before continuing. When she pulled back, I saw her lips trailing from saliva on my shaft or a string of spit from my head when she pulled away. And when she was sucking away, the feeling of her warm saliva trickling down my balls, onto her fingers, and then the couch.

Being her idea of a quickie, she skipped the corkscrewing and teasing to make sure I kept my load to myself. What she didn't know, whatever, was that I liked it more when she wasn't rushing. One thing she did, particularly when she was enjoying herself, was slip a finger inside her panties.

She was only using her mouth, her right hand resting on my thigh, with her left hand's fingers on my groin, still where she had them earlier. By this point, my cock was wet enough, with Yuri slobbering away. Taking a natural rhythm as her fingers slid between her folds, her head began to tilt left and right as she slowed down further. It was almost as if this was just one of her dreams when she was alone with herself.

A minute later, Yuri gagged. Pull back. She got carried away again. Just as she was about to wipe her lips with her hand, she caught my gaze, then, thinking for a second, licked her lips, then the side of her palm under it, wiping her drool off before she dove down on my tip again, carrying on like it was nothing to her.

It was about sending a message—malice—after all.

I didn't talk too much when she gave it to me. That was her department. Unless it was one of us getting closer, the way my expressions seemed, in her words, told her all she needed. I was an open book, for that matter, and apparently, I had let my guard down.

I just watched as she made good work of me, that for a moment, I forget I was a ticking bomb myself. Switching from using her lips and tongue, owning my cock as I presented it to her. Tightly wrapping and sucking hard, slowly but loudly, knowing we had all the time in the world, alone. Though for all her attitude, both of us only shared the kink of seeing one another trapped in pleasure, unable to run away unless we want to ruin our orgasms. 

Suddenly, she picked up her pace. A rapid guzzle replaced the slow slurping, my toes curled, and I moaned. It was an ambush from Yuri. Who looked up at me with a needy look in her eyes that told me she meant business. The same ones almost always stared at me in conversation from across the table, now expected me to blow my load down her throat. I knew better, she thought this would make me cum at that moment, as it had before, but I kept myself at bay, though just by a thin margin.

Finally, she let go, a loud pop, then a lick before she spoke again.

"You didn't cum?" she asked. I shook my head.

"Alright then, I'll help you out."

Yuri stood up with a wry smile before she unhooked her bra, then bent down, and when she rose, she was completely naked. Turning around to show her ass, she squatted down with her hand trying to find my cock. Not needing my help, she caught and stroked it a few times before sliding it between her ass and placing it right under herself. Feeling the warmth of her pussy as she poked it between her folds.

"This is what you meant by helping me out?" I teased.

Yuri didn't answer, instead flashing me a look as she let go of her hand and pushed downward. Sliding easily into her as I felt my tip poke inward, and without stopping, her moans only grew louder as the entirety of my shaft disappeared inside her. I felt myself shuddering as the squeezing of her slick walls threatened to make me cum so quickly. It never helps that we were doing this raw.

All that simply meant yes.

She placed her hands on my thighs as I did on her waist and began to ride me. Taking short hops that made sure she got used to taking me in again after a month. Throwing her head back, moaning and growling when she made her bounces longer, getting tighter by the second as we both eased into the act.

"Fuckkkk..," were the only words I could make out from Yuri as she hastened her pace. I was losing sight of her as she put her eyes off me, though what use were my eyes when she put all of me inside her. The long, slow bouncing she had grown to love in our time together was the only pace she assumed.

With another slap, Yuri then looked back at me, lip bitten. Slapping her ass as I put my hands around her hip, she asked.

"You like it fast or slow?"

"Just fast enough."

Yuri scoffed, turning away, closing her legs, and put her hands on mine. A beautiful display that, unfortunately, I was unable to see as I felt her pick up the pace. Every thrust seemed like the last as her thighs clashed with mine, taking me at full length as I began to twitch again. I felt my breathing getting heavy as I felt the familiar stiffening coming onto my hips, rendering me frozen.

Then, Yuri's orgasm came creeping in. I felt the shudder in her fingers, the shaky breaths, the shifting hips as she straightened her back. We began to lose it as we came close to cresting the edge. Being the bystander as she became more erratic, a sporadic pace replacing the controlled one I thought she could hold for longer. Trying to consider whether I should just let her loose and make either one of us cum first or tell her to turn around.

I made up my mind, and just as my lips opened to call her, nothing came out at first. By this point, she was also building up her release, like a string being pulled back by herself. I thought that, well, this was it. If she goes, so do I.

"Fuck!" Yuri cried out as she stopped, visibly shaking as she hung her head.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I-it's too good," replying as she turned around. Her face was flushed. She was probably just that close. I heard her take deep breaths before she slipped off and stood up. My cock, hard and glistening, was now uncaged, twitching, and alone, but not for long. Turning around to kneel, Yuri parted her lips, pointed it with two fingers, kissed the tip, and then took it back in. In such sensitive conditions, I balled my fist as my breath left me to shut my eyes and just hang on.

Yuri then tried to talk with my cock in her mouth. It was gibberish. She was filling her mouth with it, after all. But I could make a question out of it.

"Are you going to cum now?"

I just nodded.

I thought she was going to finish me then and there. However, I was let go. This time, Yuri straddled me. Giving her tits a suckle before I staring up at her as she eased in, catching my gaze, then giving me one deep kiss as she captured my cock and slid back down on it. Letting go only to moan as she began to ride.

Figuring that I wouldn't last much longer, she was in a squat, the position that always struck—by prior reactions—the deepest, and with how hard she was riding me, our groins already slapping. I didn't need to wonder why she was so loud.

Putting her hands on my neck, she saw me glancing out the balcony window, feeling her hand push me to face her. Giving me another peck on the lips as her fingers dug in as rebounded to the same barely controlled pace she had earlier. Pushing her stamina to the limits as I felt her pussy begin to tighten up. It was worth the expense. Having already been at the cusp of it earlier, this was just a single sprint to her climax.

I might've even heard a growl somewhere. I hissed through my teeth, not even hearing myself as Yuri became tighter, no more than a powder keg waiting to blow. Anytime now, anytime now. Her eyes were darting about, looking down at her hips, bouncing and recoiling with every stroke, throwing her head up, groaning as she shut her eyes. And when she looked at me, I felt like a bystander.

I didn't even know where she got this much endurance every time she was so close to cumming. Still, I was slipping, and my legs were shaking like hers. We exchanged cusses and fluids as our bodies began to stiffen, with her placing her hands on my thighs as she arched her back to me while I held onto her ass. I told her I was cumming, but I don't think she heard me.

I went first. I felt my shaft turn into a rod as I burst. The first few shots took my breath with them, pushed down with my arms and toes curled along as I hit the couch and swung my head back. And then, Yuri followed, letting out one final scream as she abruptly cut her pace to a halt, letting out an exhale that rose in volume into a shrill moan, her arms shaking as she bawled her fists, her hips grinding as her expression bounced between a satisfying orgasm face into a scowl as she forced herself to move and get herself over with. As both of us shot past ourselves, her choking my cock to get every last drop of it, being the way she wanted it inside her.

I then felt her hand pushing my head straight, one tired breath from her as I opened my eyes, Yuri closing in, and we put our lips together. She was putting her legs down as we were both expended, sweaty messes as our foreheads were on one another and in an embrace as we caught our breaths.

Getting off of me, she was surprised at how much cum leaked out of her. Though having done this a few times, she knew what to grab, not to make a leaking mess of herself, save for a few drops. A stain was still on her legs, of course.

"Wanna go for a second round?" Yuri asked as she wiped and crumpled the tissue.

She was just as spent, and I always seemed to fall for that ruse.

"Where?"

"In the bedroom."

"I'm hungry now," I replied. Well, who wouldn't?

"Fine, after we shower, dinner," Yuri agreed, "Though you're eating me later."

Snarky, corny, but sassy, I just rolled my eyes and nodded, though that didn't mean we weren't showering together. I just gave up hope of dinner on time with a glance at the clock on my phone. It was still relatively early, after all. Looking at her as she opened the door, she turned around, waiting on me from the door, a last chance, if you will.

I just scoffed and stood up.

[pascaloverx]

OUR SECRET — MYG

final chapter

Summary: You and Yoongi are having an affair. No, you are not being his lover. But the world is not ready to know that an idol is dating someone. So you two were doing your best to make sure no one found out. Until he breaks up with you. His mistake.

Author's note: It was a beautiful journey to write this fanfic. But unfortunately, it comes to an end in this chapter. I will miss all the readers of this fanfic, which was so precious to me. Thank you all, and until next time.

PREVIOUS NEXT

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Upon reflection, this philosophy could be right, but no one mentions that sometimes, just sometimes, life gives you lemons and you don't have the strength for anything else. It's been two months since your baby passed away. You're trying to move forward, but the path ahead seems so murky, as if there's nowhere to go. Since your daughter's passing, you and Yoongi have been trying to maintain a sense of peace, but it feels like a hollow peace. He works all day and only comes home late at night. You've returned to work as a book editor, doing some freelance work from home.

"How is this going to be?" You ask, with the laptop in your lap, as you stare at the corrections needed for the new book that some new author wants to publish at the publishing house where you work. Yoongi looks at you, bringing a plate of food that he's trying to learn to cook.

"What do you mean by that?" Yoongi speaks as he hands you a plate and takes another for himself. You look, trying to understand if he hasn't noticed that you've been treated like a child since your daughter died.

"I mean, husband, that I know you've been neglecting your concert schedule and what should have been your tour with the boys, because of me. It's noble of you, but you know that I can take care of myself, right?" You say, tasting the macaroni that Yoongi made. He's a good cook.

"Wife, I'm not just doing this for you. It's just that I didn't plan on working at this time. But believe me, I'm working on a new album." Yoongi says as he turns on the television to watch the sports channel. At least that's what you think he's watching.

"Even so, I may seem fragile, but I can be alone. I can even call you while you're away. I don't want you to neglect your life because of me. I'll be here when you come back, no matter where you're from." You say as you set your laptop on the table and sit close to him. You continue eating the macaroni he made. Eventually, both of you finish eating, and you decide to put some music on the television. He looks at you angrily for changing the channel from sports. Then you extend your hand to him, hoping he'll take it so you can dance. After some grumbling, he gets up and pulls you close by your waist.

"You know it's weird for us to dance like this, for no reason after dinner, right?" Yoongi asks, and you feel a bit awkward about saying that you're trying to be spontaneous. It's been a while since you and he have done anything cute together.

"Loving someone means doing senseless things with them, you know? And I think it's been a while since the last time we were romantically together. Our beginning was all secretive and full of passion. Then we had a dramatic breakup that resulted in a surprise pregnancy that left us both grieving for our daughter. We're married now, but I feel like we barely dated. Maybe now is the time for us to do cute, silly, and romantic things." You confide in Yoongi as you rest your head on his shoulder, and you both continue dancing slowly.

"I don't regret any of this, though. Our love story is confusing. Maybe even complicated. But at least I have you. And you have me. And I may not show it very well, but you are the most precious thing I have now. I love my fans, I love my group, but my love for you is greater than the success I have. I know it took a long time for me to say this to you, and I'm really sorry for not being the man you deserved, but I want to be now. Know that." Yoongi says, pulling his head back slightly, looking at you, and you immediately kiss him. A calm and peaceful kiss. Exactly how you want your love to be.

"You know… I could go on tour with you if you need me to. And I think in the future, we can consider expanding our love, but for now, it would be good to take some time to reconnect, you know." You say with your mouth still close to Yoongi's, who gives you a few pecks while seeming very lost in your lips to care much about what you're saying.

"I think this part of reconnecting is very important. Do you want to start now?" Yoongi says and kisses you. A deeper kiss, and extremely needy. Needy for you. You try to show that you feel so much I miss his kisses as much as he does. The truth is, you want Yoongi. You want to give a chance to a flame that has been extinguished for some time. Yoongi holds your face gently but firmly and intensifies the kiss. His hands roaming your body make you feel alive.

"Honey, I think we should take this reconnection to the bedroom, don't you think?" You speak as you move away from him a little and walk at a pace very slowly to your room. Your heart feels like it's going to escape through your mouth, because of your nervousness. But then Yoongi grabs your hand and spins you around.

"I love you." He says smiling slightly and kissing you. You know he loves you. And you feel the same way about him. You then pull him to bed and there you reconnect in the most beautiful way.

Your story continues to be a lesson for some time that not every love story happens in the same way. You loved each other and just when you were separating, you discovered that together you could be better. With Yoongi you faced grief. And with you, Yoongi matured. Fortunately, years later you adapted to married life and he was able to return to being a world-famous singer. You have a mature relationship filled with reconnections. Every year you go to the cemetery to take flowers for your daughter. It seems that sometimes finding a happy ending means going through many barriers. But you're trying to live your happily ever after with Yoongi.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Quinque gazump linkdump

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

It's Saturday and any fule kno that this is the day for a linkdump, in which the links that couldn't be squeezed into the week's newsletter editions get their own showcase. Here's the previous 23 linkdumps:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

Start your weekend with some child's play! Ada & Zangemann is a picture book by Matthias Kirschner and Sandra Brandstätter of Free Software Foundation Europe, telling the story of a greedy inventor who ensnares a town with his proprietary, remote-brickable gadgets, and Ada, his nemesis, a young girl who reverse engineers them and lets their users seize the means of computation:

https://fsfe.org/activities/ada-zangemann/index.en.html

Ada & Zangemann is open access – you can share it, adapt it, and sell it as you see fit – and has been translated into several languages. Now, there's a cartoon version, an animated adaptation that is likewise open access, with digital assets for your remixing pleasure:

https://fsfe.org/activities/ada-zangemann//movie

Figuring out how to talk to kids about important subjects is a clarifying exercise. Back in the glory days of SNL, Eddie Murphy lampooned Fred "Mr" Rogers style of talking to kids, and it was indeed very funny:

https://snl.fandom.com/wiki/Mr._Robinson

But Mr Rogers' rhetorical style wasn't as simple as "talk slowly and use small words" – the "Fredish" dialect that Mr Rogers created was thoughtful, empathic, inclusive, and very effective:

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/07/09/the-nine-rules-of-freddish-the-positive-inclusive-empathic-language-of-mr-rogers/

Lots of writers have used the sing-songy fairytale style of children's stories to make serious political points (see, e.g. Animal Farm). My own attempt at this was my 2011 short story "The Brave Little Toaster," for MIT Tech Review's annual sf series. If the title sounds familiar, that's because I nicked it from Tom Disch's tale of the same name, as part of my series of stolen title stories:

https://locusmag.com/2012/05/cory-doctorow-a-prose-by-any-other-name/

My Toaster story is a tale of IoT gone wild, in which the nightmare of a world of "smart" devices that exert control over their owners is shown to be a nightmare. A work colleague sent me this adaptation of the story as part of an English textbook, with lots of worksheet-style exercises. I'd never seen this before, and it's very fun:

http://ourenglishclass.net/wp-content/uploads/sites/6/2024/09/bravetoaster.pdf

If you like my "Brave Little Toaster," you'll likely enjoy my novella "Unauthorized Bread," which appears in my 2019 collection Radicalized and is currently being adapted as a middle-grades graphic novel by Blue Delliquanti for Firstsecond:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

Childlike parables have their place, but just because something fits in a "just so" story, that doesn't make it true. Cryptocurrency weirdos desperately need to learn this lesson. The foundation of cryptocurrency is a fairytale about the origin of money, a mythological marketplace in which freely trading individuals who struggled to find a "confluence of needs." If you wanted to trade one third of your cow for two and a half of my chickens, how could we complete the transaction?

In the "money story" fairy tale, we spontaneously decided that we would use gold, for a bunch of nonsensical reasons that don't bear even cursory scrutiny. And so coin money sprang into existence, and we all merrily traded our gold with one another until a wicked government came and stole our gold with (cue scary voice) taaaaaaxes.

There is zero evidence for this. It's literally a fairy tale. There is a rich history of where money came from, and the answer, in short is, governments created it through taxes, and money doesn't exist without taxation:

https://locusmag.com/2022/09/cory-doctorow-moneylike/

The money story is a lie, and it's a consequential one. The belief that money arises spontaneously out of the needs of freely trading people who voluntarily accept an arbitrary token as a store of value, unit of account, and unit of exchange (coupled with a childish, reactionary aversion to taxation) inspired cryptocurrency, and with it, the scams that allowed unscrupulous huxters to steal billions from everyday people who trusted Matt Damon, Spike Lee and Larry David when they told them that cryptocurrency was a sure path to financial security:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/15/your-new-first-name/#that-dagger-tho

It turns out that private money, far from being a tool of liberation, is rather just a dismal tool for ripping off the unsuspecting, and that goes double for crypto, where complexity can be weaponized by swindlers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/13/the-byzantine-premium/

We don't hear nearly as much about crypto these days – many of the pump-and-dump set have moved on to pitching AI stock – but there's still billions tied up in the scam, and new shitcoins are still being minted at speed. The FBI actually created a sting operation to expose the dirtiness of the crypto "ecosystem":

https://www.theverge.com/2024/10/10/24267098/fbi-coin-crypto-token-nexgenai-sec-doj-fraud-investigation

They found that the exchanges, "market makers" and other seemingly rock-ribbed institutions where suckers are enticed to buy, sell, track and price cryptos are classic Big Store cons:

http://www.amyreading.com/the-9-stages-of-the-big-con.html

When you, the unsuspecting retail investor, enter one of these mirror-palaces, you are the only audience member in a play that everyone else is in on. Those vigorous trades that see the shitcoin you're being hustled with skyrocketing in value? They're "wash trades," where insiders buy and sell the same asset to one another, without real money ever changing hands, just to create the appearance of a rapidly appreciating asset that you had best get in on before you are priced out of the market.

This scam is as old as con games themselves and, as with other scams- S&Ls, Enron, subprime – the con artists have parlayed their winnings into social respectability and are now flushing them into the political system, to punish lawmakers who threaten their ability to rip off you and your neighbors. A massive, terrifying investigative story in The New Yorker shows how crypto billionaires stole the Democratic nomination from Katie Porter, one of the most effective anti-scam lawmakers in recent history:

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2024/10/14/silicon-valley-the-new-lobbying-monster

Big Tech – like every corrupt cartel in history – is desperate to conjure a kleptocracy into existence, whose officials they can corrupt in order to keep the machine going until they've maximized their gains and achieved escape velocity from consequences.

No surprise, then, that tech companies have adopted the same spin tactics that sowed doubt about the tobacco-cancer link, in order to keep the US from updating its anemic privacy laws. The last time Congress gave us a new consumer privacy law was 1988, when they banned video store clerks from disclosing our VHS rental history to newspapers:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act

By preventing confining privacy law to the VCR era, Big Tech has been able to plunder our data with impunity – aided by cops and spies who love the fact that there's a source of cheap, off-the-books, warrantless surveillance data that would be illegal for them to collect.

Writing for Tech Policy Press, the Norcal ACLU's Jake Snow connects the tobacco industry fight over "pre-emption" to the modern fight over privacy laws:

https://www.techpolicy.press/big-tech-is-trying-to-burn-privacy-to-the-ground-and-theyre-using-big-tobaccos-strategy-to-do-it/

In the 1990s, Big Tobacco went to war against state anti-smoking laws, arguing that the federal government had the right – nay, the duty – to create a "harmonized" national system of smoking laws that would preempt state laws. Strangely, politicians who love "states' rights" when it comes to banning abortion, tax-base erosion and "right to work" anti-union laws suddenly discovered federal religion when their campaign donors from the Cancer-Industrial Complex decided that states shouldn't use those rights to limit smoking.

This is exactly the tack that Big Tech has taken on privacy, arguing that any update to federal privacy law should abolish muscular state-level laws, like Illinois's best-in-class biometric privacy rules, or California's CPPA.

Like Big Tobacco, Big Tech has "funded front groups, hired an armada of lobbyists, donated millions to campaigns, and opened a firehose of lobbying money," with the goal of replacing "real privacy laws with fake industry alternatives as ineffective as non-smoking sections."

Whether it's understanding the origin of money or the Big Tobacco playbook, knowing history can protect you from all kinds of predatory behavior. But history isn't merely a sword and shield, it's also just a delight. Internet pioneer Ethan Zuckerman is road-tripping around America, and in August, he got to Columbus, IN, home to some of the country's most beautiful and important architectural treasures:

https://ethanzuckerman.com/2024/08/29/road-trip-the-company-town-and-the-corn-fields/

The buildings – clustered in within a few, walkable blocks – are the legacy of the diesel engine manufacturing titan Cummins, whose postwar president J Irwin Miller used the company's wartime profits to commission a string of gorgeous structures from starchitects like the Saarinens, IM Pei, Kevin Roche, Richard Meier, Harry Weese, César Pelli, Gunnar Birkerts, and Skidmore. I had no idea about any of this, and now I want to visit Columbus!

I'm planning a book tour right now (for my next novel, Picks and Shovels, which is out in February) and there's a little wiggle-room in the midwestern part of the tour. There's a possibility that I'll end up in the vicinity, and if that happens, I'm definitely gonna find time for a little detour!

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

[obeythebutler]

Hey so I see you said your prompt requests are open. I love your writing! I was wondering if you could maybe do Satan with the prompt: spontaneously deciding to paint their spare room on a Sunday. No pressure, you don't have to write it if you don't want to! Love ya byyyee

Sundays are meant for indulging yourself in the House of Lamentation.

In yours and Satan's case, it means coming to his room to read that one book you've been waiting for all week.

"All set?" Is the first thing you say when you step into his room with two cups of tea. The rare blend which you'd procured from Barbatos after helping him get rid of rats in the castle.

His room is set in darkness, unlike that of his brothers.

You have come to the conclusion that it must be a demon thing. You know, eyes meant for navigating in the darkness and all that jazz. While in the human world, you had gifted a pair of sunglasses to the blonde demon after his incessant complaining about the human world being too bright.

And even if his room is suited to his tastes and nature, even if he has a formidable knowledge of all things in the three realms, who in the nine layers of hell keeps candles on top of precious books?

Your Satan.

"Your room is a fire hazard," You state after having finished half your tea, his arm snaked around your waist. "Plus how do you even know where which book of which topic is?"

Satan shrugs. "I've got it all in my mind, so it's organised to me."

"To you."

"I tried 'organising' stuff once," He mutters, eyes scanning the text in front of him, book in hand as you both read. "Made different columns of books. The first toppled over after three hours. One week later and it returned to its usual state."

"There are many spare rooms in this house. One behind the Planetarium hasn't been discovered by the others yet. Why don't you try keeping some of your collection there?"

"That room isn't exactly suited to my taste." Satan turns the page. "Plus there's a dire need of renovation. I'll have to put some curses to ensure no one can steal those manuscripts."

You say nothing for a few minutes.

Enough time to finish reading the last three pages of the third chapter, and rest your head on his shoulder.

When you flip to the fourth one, the words spill past your lips without thought.

"Want to paint that room with me?"

The book slams shut.

Hours later, after having scrounged Devilkea, there's a color that you both agree upon. When the clock strikes three, you and Satan are armed with paintbrushes and rollers, ready to attack.

"That corner needs more paint," You say, turning your head towards where Satan works.

"That looks alright to me," He furrows his brows. "Does it look different from there?"

"Yeah, just a bit more."

Thirty minutes pass by like a breeze. Your arm hurts at the end, though, and since an idle mind brews mischief you decide that Satan needs a pop of colour.

You wait for the demon to get engrossed in his work, and then execute your move. It was wisely decided to wear old clothes for this activity, given that you were wearing your favourite shirt today.

An undignified squeak spills past the demon's lips.

"What was that?" He hisses. There's paint all over his behind now.

"Paint."

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

You grin at him, all teeth. "When everything has dried, we can shift some of your books here. Place some charms on this room, have a little corner all to ourselves." Satan smiles at that.

"Add your stuff too," He tells you, stepping down from the ladder since that part of the wall is completed. "One of your cushions, maybe? You've got too many."

"Never too many."

[walkingstackofbooks]

AITA for being "too dedicated" to my job?

Unfortunately I can't give too many details, my work is pretty strict on privacy, but let's say I (48 m) work as for this security company. I'm in charge of recruiting and vetting new candidates - as you can imagine, this is a pretty rigorous process, and there is no room for mistakes. I wish I could say how bad the consequences would be if we hired someone with bad intentions, but that might pinpoint what I do too accurately.

So there's a doctor (m 33) who works for one of our sister companies - obviously there's a lot of information that needs protecting in the medical field - and we've had our eye on him for a while. About a year ago, it turned out he'd been lying about his background to cover up some illegal activities he'd done in the past - strike one. Then, a few months later, he was involved in a conspiracy to release strictly controlled information into the hands of people who would have done unspeakable things with it - strike two.

Despite this, the powers-that-be decided to keep him on - he is, admittedly, an immensely talented doctor, and there were enough mitigating circumstances in both instances that our sister company felt that he was free of blame. We, however, felt he needed closer monitoring, and so over the past few months I've been sending people in to observe him closely, so we could be sure he's working for us and not outside influences.

We didn't get anywhere. The trouble was, while he wasn't doing anything "suspicious", he was also acting so perfectly in line with regulation that that in itself seemed suspicious. Trust me, I've been working in this business for a long time - very few people are *that* good for *that* long.

So this got us thinking - either he was a very serious threat and needed to be dealt with, or else a ridiculously talented, ridiculously good doctor who would be an asset to our company, right? But the usual methods weren't getting us anywhere. And with his skills of deception (that law-breaking I mentioned? He'd hidden it for fifteen years) and capacity for sudden actions (the secret-selling was planned spontaneously within 24 hours), I know we'd have to do something slightly... off the books, let's say, to get the results we needed.

My plan was very simple - we arrested him and questioned him, using an implanted relay to record his neuroelectric responses so that we'd know for sure if he was innocent or not. Admittedly, we didn't want to cause a stir in the sister company, so on one of his days off, we carried out the whole thing in a holosuite, so that the responses of his colleagues etc. were all controlled by us, and he believed that it was real. Part of the investigation included sharing our suspicions with him that he was working for some other organisation with harmful intent, and we manufactured some evidence to see how he would respond.

Fortunately for all of us, it turned out he was innocent. It seemed our sister company had judged the mitigating circumstances well, and that those incidents truly were things in the past that he regretted - and he certainly wasn't working for anyone outside the company. In fact - just like me, it seems - he is a man who works with the company's and our clients best interests at heart, at all times. Naturally, we debriefed him, congratulated him on passing our test, and invited him to join us as a medical consultant - to put his talents to even greater use. He declined, though, and we parted ways.

So here's where the debate comes in. Some of my colleagues think I went too far in my methods, but I stand by my actions. The doctor absolutely could have been a security risk, and I'd argue, in fact, that all evidence pointed towards him being a traitor. At any rate, everyone in my company who knew about him was anxious about his loyalties before I did this, and now we don't have to expend any more resources on figuring out what his deal is.

I also believe that I wouldn't be facing this criticism if the doctor had agreed to join our company, which is a decision I had no control over. Some of my colleagues feel that he would have been a real asset and are frustrated that my actions put him off our company - however, I would argue that if he can't understand the reasons for what I did, he's not a good fit for our company anyway. And besides, it's only been a week, he might well change his mind in the future. It's really too early to tell.

Tl;dr - my job is investigating security threats. I used a simulated environment to arrest and interrogate a doctor about whom everyone in my company had extreme concerns, and discovered he was not a threat. Now some people are saying I went too far: I say I was just doing my job.

(in response to this challenge set by @the-last-dillpickle and @hellostuffedtiger for Sloan AITA posts)

[promptthebear]

Oh my god I just found you through AO3! I'm so excited to read your other works! If you wouldn't mind, I would love to hear some of your headcannons for Tyrion! 🧺

Okay, so I thought a lot about this one and well, this is what I decided on so hopefully it’s okay 🫣

In my defence, I’ve been lurking on the Tyrion x Reader tag for a loooong while and always secretly hoped someone would do this first but unfortunately not so here goes.

PS. This ended up being so long holy shit. Some of these prompts ending up being almost mini fics in their own right. Wish I could say I'm sorry about it...but my Mom taught me not to lie so.

🔥Tyrion Lannister NSFW Alphabet🔥

CW: Brief mentions of canon typical assault and violence. Discussions of soft dom/sub dynamics. Also what it says on the tin, discussions of sex and sexual content.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Say it with me now, this man is an aftercare KING. To him, it’s almost as important as the main event, a good story needs a satisfying epilogue after all.

This is partially from his years of experience, but also his own desire to feel loved. We all know Tyrion’s met his needs exclusively with sex workers since Tysha left his life. He knows how awful it is to wake to an empty bed and cold sheets, but is also very much aware that’s part and parcel with the life he’s chosen.

When you come around, whether that’s through a spontaneous relationship or an arranged marriage, Tyrion wants to give you the full benefit of all he has to offer. It’s pretty normal for you to spend hours cuddled up in bed, basking in the after glow, talking about nothing in particular and feeding each other little bites of food and sips of wine.

If you’re really lucky, Tyrion might also read a little to you from whatever book he’s got on hand. He loves nothing more than to have you rest your head against his bare chest while he murmurs into your hair about history or herb sciences or whatever’s caught his interest this week.

Tyrion also isn’t opposed to helping you clean up or having a shared bath. You can bet he’d be extremely gentle and attentive, taking extra care with anywhere on your body that may be sore or sensitive. He’ll also get frequently distracted from the task at hand to stop and tell you how beautiful you are, how much he cares about you and to cover your face and body in soft kisses.

This man just has a lot of love to give, and when you have his trust and commitment, he’s going to be thrilled at finally having someone to share it with. Every once and awhile, you’ll catch him running his hands over your body while you’re together, like he’s trying to memorize every inch before you disappear. Enjoy those moments, it means he’s finally starting to let his walls down and accept you’re sticking with him for good.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Okay, so these two are going to be really obvious but I’ll explain, I promise. There’s not a lot Tyrion likes about himself. He’s accepted what he is, but that doesn’t mean he always likes it. However, when pressed he’ll admit that what he’s most proud of are his mind and his cock.

His mind is a given. It’s what keeps him alive and valuable in the political minefield that is King’s Landing. Without that, who knows what would have happened to him? He also loves when he can use his wit to make you smile or gods willing, laugh. Your laughter is the most precious sound in the world to Tyrion and he loves that he can be the cause behind it.

As for his cock, well, it’s mentioned in the books that Tyrion feels like in the dark, he feels and can be the same as any other man. He truly seems to feel that in the bedroom, it’s the one other place his size doesn’t matter. His equipment works as well as anyone else’s, and he’s very proud of all the pleasure it brings you.

When it comes to his lover, Tyrion really only has two priorities. He likes breasts and a good heart. Everything else is just gravy.

Based on his love scenes with Shae in the books, I feel like Tyrion is a big fan of boobs. He even jokes about it when he meets Oberyn about how a tit in his mouth is the only thing that can still stop him fussing. Also, see the gif above lol. Whenever he’s had a hard day, Tyrion wants nothing more than to open your dress, and bury his face into your chest where he can lose himself in the softness of your skin and scent of your perfume.

Breast size also isn’t a deal breaker for Tyrion. As far as he’s concerned, any breasts of any shape or size are wonderful. If you’ve ever felt self conscious about what’s in your corset, that won’t be a problem after Tyrion’s got his hands on you. He spends so much time caressing and kissing them that you start to love them as much as he does. And if anyone makes any snide remarks about you not being well endowed enough? Well, Tyrion’s got some extra creative ways to make them reconsider that train of thought.

Above all else though, he needs someone kind. He’s been surrounded with liars and people who are trying to manipulate him for so long, that in the end he figures that's all there is for him. Of course, the second he realizes hes with someone a little too like Cersi or any number of the social climbers at court, then things are going to go tits up. That relationship will crash and burn so quickly, and the fall out is incredibly messy. Tyrion will then turn to drink and brothels to lessen his pain, meets a new distraction who smells an opportunity and the vicious cycle starts all over again. Which is not to say any of the women Tyrion finds himself with during this time are to blame for being insincere, they're trying to survive same as anyone else and hes a promising meal ticket.

If anything, the fault for this lies with Tyrion’s own self destructive tendencies and all the bullshit Tywin’s put into his head over the years. His father has allowed his son so few opportunities to have love and be loved, that whether he knows it or not, Tyrion keeps choosing poor matches to keep one step ahead of Tywin and be hurt on his own terms. Heartbreak is heartbreak, but having pain you control is slightly better than having it forced on you at any given moment.

The best chance you have of breaking this pattern and actually have a genuine relationship with Tyrion is by being sweet with him. He’s going to fight it at first, kindness is so alien to him that he takes it as exploitation at face value and will either brush it aside with a well placed quip or outright deny it to your face. Have a little patience. Tyrion has wrapped his hurt around his heart like a protective shell, but once he realizes you’re different and truly care about him, hooo boy. The flood of affection and loyalty you’ll get from him will be unparalleled, so it’s well worth the wait.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Over the years, Tyrion’s found some pretty creative places to deposit his seed. It just kind of happens when you frequent brothels exclusively. As much as those places PROMISE the women won't give you a bastard, pretty words don't mean a whole lot when an unplanned child shows up on your doorstep, so Tyrion’s learned to be extra cautious.

If the two of you aren’t married or just casual lovers, Tyrion will probably keep that same practice if only to preserve your honour. Your mouth, breasts and stomach are perfectly good options as far as he’s concerned, be ready to hear some “pearl necklace” jokes out of him.

If the two of you are married though? Inside, hands down, 100%. With your consent that’s always where he wants to finish, both because of the closeness it creates between the two of you and also the added benefit of possibly getting you pregnant. To Tyrion, this is a true testament to how much you love and trust him, and a way to mark you to others as his and his alone. Just knowing you want to be with him and bear his children can be as much of a turn on for him as the actual sex itself.

Sometimes when he’s done, he’ll sit back and spread your legs to have a nice, long look at his handiwork. It‘s just so satisfying to see his cum dripping out of your cunt, and odds are this’ll have him raring to go again before your first orgasm is completely out of your system. The two of you won’t have any problems producing an heir, trust me.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There’s not a lot Tyrion keeps to himself when it comes to sex. He’s a pretty open book, and when you’ve visited every brothel from the North to the last port before the Free Cities, sometimes your secrets get told for you.

However, the one thing Tyrion’s managed to keep out of public knowledge is an ongoing fantasy he’s had about fucking his lover or wife in his father’s bedroom at Casterly Rock.

It’s not that Tyrion wants to be his father necessarily, as much as he jokes about being Tywin made again on half the scale. It’s more so about taking control in a way that would shock and appall Tywin, with a hint of added vengeance for what happened to Tysha. His father has had his fingers in Tyrion’s private matters for so long that he’d love nothing more than to finally turn the tables and truly make Casterly Rock his “whorehouse” like Tywin’s always feared.

I don’t think this is a fantasy he’d ever admit to anyone though, not even to you, no matter how drunk he gets or how long you’ve been together. It’s too strange and too petty to suggest to anyone…right?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

We all know it, our boy has had more lovers in the short time he’s been alive than some men will ever see in a thousand lifetimes. The benefit to this, though, is he’s had some amazing teachers and has learned some pretty special skills he can’t wait to try with you.

If you’re a virgin when the two of you meet or married, then Tyrion will take excellent care of you, making sure you’re safe, comfortable and cumming until you don’t know your own name. But if you're on the more experienced side? Well, get ready to be put through your paces, Tyrion wants to see what you’re really made of and maybe show you some new things along the way.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Now, Tyrion’s tried every position in recorded human history and invented some new ones just for kicks. But, unfortunately, if there’s a significant height difference between you two then his size is something you'll need to be mindful of. There are some positions that just won't be comfortable or even pleasurable for either of you, regardless of foreplay or flexibility.

Since he’s aware and very accepting of his limitations, there are a few tried and true positions Tyrion falls back on because he’s found that they’re consistently enjoyable for both him and his partner, while still allowing for some variation.

The first of these is, unsurprisingly, cowgirl. Having you on top is the easiest way to negate any major differences in height or physicality. It’s also a lot less painful for Tyrion’s legs, and allows him easy access to your clit and breasts, as well as having full view of your face so he can gauge your enjoyment. This position also affords itself to different paces, whether you're going for something soft and sweet with gentle words whispered between quiet grasps, or something more frantic and rougher where Tyrion meets you thrust for thrust by grabbing hold of your ass and pushing his hips up against yours.

There’s also just something about letting you have control of your pleasure and the sight of you hovering above him like some kind of sensual goddess that leaves Tyrion entranced. He absolutely loves watching you come undone above him, every slight shift in your expression, every little noise you make, they’re all incredibly precious to him. If he’s ever particularly distracted in his work, if he’s messing up his sums or seems miles away listening to petitions at court, you know it’s because he’s reliving these beautiful moments again in his mind and wondering how to make next time even better for the two of you.

Now, while Tyrion values sex for the romance and intimacy it can create between partners, there are also many times where he’s in desperate need of stress relief and the only way he’s going to get it is by fucking it out of you. On days where court has gone on for longer than usual, or the council is being extra stupid or Joffery has somehow managed to reach new levels of depravity yet again, the only position Tyrion is interested in is doggy style.

Everything about this position with him is going to be fast, rough, and probably a little messy. As soon as you’ve given him the go ahead, he’s pushing you onto the nearest flat surface and rucking your skirts and petticoats up to your navel. Any foreplay you have is going to be rushed, Tyrion’s not normally a selfish lover but when he gets like this, all he wants is to have you ready enough so as not to cause you pain. You can expect him to work you over quickly with two of his fingers thrust into your cunt and his mouth attacking your clit relentlessly. The second he feels you start getting wet, it’s all he can do to mutter “turn over” between clenched teeth and then he’s on you like a man possessed

From this point, the best advice I can give you is to hang on for dear life, because this isn’t going to be the Tyrion you’re used to. He’s basically going to use you like a human cocksleeve, gripping onto fistfuls of your skirts and thrusting into you at breakneck speeds. The change in angle would also allow him to hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars, again and again. It’s both too much and not enough all at once, and you’d be a whimpering mess within minutes, not that Tyrion would take any notice. Normally, he’s very attentive but in this moment he’d been far too concerned with chasing his own pleasure, a far off look in hi eye as he grunts and moans softly with each push of his hips.

When he finally cums, it’s like some strange spell over him finally breaks. He’d bed over your back, shoving his face against the fabric of your dress to muffle his half strangled cry. You’d be pretty much collapsed at this point, your elbows long since given out supporting you in the face of so many quick fire orgasms. Tyrion would pull out of you, shaky and breathing hard, and somehow manage to walk on wobbling legs around to where he can look you in the eye. He’d push your sweaty hair back from your face, and cup your flushed cheeks in his hands like he’s afraid you might break into a thousand pieces.

The first words out of his mouth would then be “I’m sorry” as he pulls you into his waiting embrace and brings up a hand to cup the back of your head. He’d hold you like that for a long while, apologizing profusely for being so rough with you and explaining about all the bullshit he endured today, and how thankful he is that he can come home and have you here to take care of him. He’d be so worried he’s hurt you, and all but weeps in relief when you manage a tired smile and a soft “It’s alright. I know, things have been tough on you. You didn’t hurt me, I’m okay.” Expect lots of extra attention from him and treats tonight, as well as a long hot bath in your future.

When Tyrion isn’t trying to screw his problems away, I can also see him actually enjoying missionary a fair bit. While it isn’t the most ideal position, he can’t kiss you as much as he wants and being on his knees for so long will have his legs spasming for awhile afterwards, it does have its merits. He loves being able to play with your clit so easily, and the feel of your ankles hooking around his back. This position also gives him the perfect angle to bury his face in your breasts and he’s cum like that on more than one occasion.

Tyrion is also a bit of a romantic at heart, though he wouldn’t admit that for love or money. The fact that this position is so traditional in its essence is actually something he really enjoys. It reminds him of his first time with Tysha, the two of them fumbling and in love and having no clues about sex beyond this one basic thing. There’s so little that hearkens back to happier times in Tyrion’s life, the few things that allow him to do so, he’ll want to cherish them at every opportunity.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Oh gods, Tyrion is secretly the biggest goofball. You see a little bit of it in the books when he’s teasing Tysha and Shae, and if you’re receptive to that kind of thing he’ll be more than happy to provide it for you. This man could be buried in you to the hilt and pausing to crack jokes. If someone happens to fart or make a strange sound or maybe experience a sudden onset cramp? No worries, Tyrion will take it in stride with plenty good humour.

When you’ve had sex as many times as he has, you quickly realize it’s not as pretty or seamless as the stories and songs often depict. In the real world, people and their bodies are flawed. Things don’t always go as planned even when you’re being intimate, and being able to experience everything you have to offer no matter how embarrassing is what Tyrion considers to be one of the many pleasures of being with you. Besides, if you don’t laugh at yourself first, other people don’t hesitate to do it for you, so why not beat them to the punch?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the caret match the drapes? etc.)

So I feel like shaving and waxing isn’t really a “thing” in Westeros, outside maybe some of the more exotic brothels closer to the Free Cities and such. This means that Tyrion goes au naturel so to speak, and while he’s not as hairy as some men, he’s got a healthy patch of thick, reddish blonde curls down there. If it’s causing you discomfort or itching, he’d be happy to trim it back the same way he would his beard but I doubt he’d ever go completely bare down there either.

The added benefit of this is also that Tyrion wouldn’t expect you to remove your pubic hair either. If anything, he’d probably be a little uncomfortable with the idea? It would make you seem almost child-like, which would most certainly turn him off completely. He wants to be with a grown woman, and all that implies. A little hair isn’t going to bother him any.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

So, if the two of you are friends with benefits or this is a “transactional” relationship let’s say, Tyrion isn’t going to really push for intimacy. This is mostly because he doesn’t want to get too close to you, in case it gets him hurt again. He’ll be friendly and respectful, but don't expect any spontaneous compliments during sex or for him to stay with you too long afterwards. As far as he’s concerned, that kind of entanglement doesn’t end well for anyone involved but we also know this man is going to have a hard time keeping his emotions out of it no matter how hard he tries.

If the two of you are married or have a committed relationship? Oh. My. God. Extra won’t even begin to cover it.

A much as he claims to be selfish and cynical, Tyrion’s a giver by nature. When he falls for you, he’s going to fall hard and he’ll want to let you know any way he can. He’ll basically be spouting off the cuff poetry while the two of you are having sex with the compliments he’s giving. He’ll shower you with sweet talk, kisses, anything you want. If you’re a rose petal and candle kind of gal, you can expect that too. If he can’t provide what you want, he’ll learn how to or find a way to get it for you. Hell, if you mention your favourite colour to him even just in passing, he'd probably redecorate his bedhcambers to suit your preference. After a lifetime of being treated like dogshit, you’d have this man wrapped around your little finger, so please please please be kind to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It’s pretty much book canon that Tyrion jerks off…a lot, and while his preference is always going to be to look to you for his needs, unfortunately his job calls him away a lot. If he’s especially fond of you, he might even move you out of Kings Landing entirely and into The Rock at the first opportunity, just to keep you safe. When distance is an obstacle, he’d probably go back to the company of his hands most evenings, though now he’s at least got you to fantasize about. Don’t be surprised if one of your scarves or hair ribbons or even some of your smallclothes go missing right after Tyrion leaves home again. You’ll get them back, I promise, your lover just needs a little “motivation” while he’s away.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Acts of service/ Service dom: So, most of his life, Tyrion’s had to take care of himself and also has been denied a lot of opportunities to offer his care to other people. The result of this is that he craves any chance to experience either, especially where any kind of intimacy is involved. I truly see Tyrion as a switch, so he’ll want to use acts of service as both the submissive and dominant partner, even if Westeros hasn’t provided the vocabulary to label these experiences as such.

For example, he loves taking care of you. If you want him to brush your hair, he’s happy to comply. Help you dress yourself if your maid’s been “given the morning off?” Yes ma’am. Run you a bath and assist you with washing? Say the word and hes there. Now, in these moments you may appear to be the dominant one, but thats nowhere close to the truth. By allowing yourself to be vulnerable, you’re giving Tyrion the power and control, but he’d never take advantage of it. At most, he’s a soft dom. He may occasionally give orders or make decisions for you, but he does so only after reminding you that you can ask him to stop at any time.

This is also just such a self indulgent fantasy, but I can see him being the type of dom to make a pet out of his lover? Not pet play exactly, but he’d refer to you as his “good girl” or precious one and have you sit, naked and kneeling on a silk pillow while your head resting on his thigh as he works or reads. He'd stop often to stroke your hair or speak to you softly, or maybe feed you a tasty little morsel or give you a sip of wine if you were willing. Theres no sadomasochism about this situation though, it comes from a place of nurturing and Tyrions desire to provide for you to the point where you don't have to do a thing for yourself.

When Tyrion plays the submissive, it looks very different. Your role as the dominant would be to assert yourself as a caretaker as well, so Tyrion actually takes a break from working and focuses on some selfcare for once. This can include massaging his back and legs, drawing a hot bath and helping him clean up or feeding him dinner, bite by bite. Tyrion would be the most willing submissive, and though he grumbles on principle he wouldn’t be bratty or need any sort of punishment besides maybe a gentle scolding now and again. Reaching this level of trust and intimacy with you is like his ultimate fantasy, so much of his life demands that he be in control that relinquishing it, even for a few hours, would be nothing short of paradise.

Overstimulation: So, we all know, Tyrion’s a very skilled lover. He knows tricks with his mouth and fingers that would surprise even Oberyn Martell, and he can make you cum faster than you ever thought possible. He loves to do this again and again, until you’re a shaking, babbling mess, only to push one more orgasm out of you. He really just wants to give you as much pleasure as you can take at any given moment and then a little more just because he loves you. It also can become sort of a competition thing between the two of you? I can absolutely see him looking up from between your legs, your release still on his lips while he smirks and you let out a “Fuck!” that indicates you’ve cum yet again. He’d give your cunt a gentle pat, arch his brow and ask “Do you think she’s had enough?” to which you’d let out a huff and stubbornly announce “Not even close” only to regret those words when you find yourself limping around the castle the next day.

The Book Game: I don’t know what else to call this, but basically that thing where you read something while your partner pleasures or fucks you and if you moan you don’t get to cum yet? This would be Tyrion’s absolute FAVOURITE thing, as it involves the best of both worlds, literature and sex. Watch out though, this man plays dirty and will probably hand you an erotic novel just make things more interesting.

Mutual masturbation: I don’t know why, but I just feel like Tyrion would be into this??? It probably comes back to how he wants to feel desirable and have someone look at him in all his naked glory without any outright disgust. If the two of you are doing this, expect Tyrion to light more than the usual amount of candles. He just wants to see you, to bask in your beauty as you get yourself off. Bonus points if he’s allowed to give you instructions while you do so.

Body worship: Oh Lord, is Tyrion ever into this one. If it’s your first time, he’d probably just do it to increase your pleasure and comfort with him touching you. And then it turns into a habit. The first time he does it, it’s while he’s undressing you. With your consent, he’d carefully remove your clothing and kiss each new inch of bared skin like his life depends on it. It’s only when you’re tingling all over and practically begging him to fuck you that he’d relent. Afterwards, I can see him making sort of a silly game out of it, naming each part of you he likes best before kissing on that same spot. Spoiler alert though, he loves all of you so he’s going to kiss everywhere.

Marking: Yes, but only for love bites and hickies. It’s a point of personal pride for Tyrion to show everyone that not only are you his, but you are more than happy to let him love on you. I can imagine that Cersi or his father are giving him shit one morning at breakfast because you aren’t pregnant yet, only for the two of them to immediately shut up when you walk into the dining room with a massive, fuck off hickey nestled in your cleavage. Tyrion would smirk into his coffee, and then wrap his arm around you shoulder and plant a kiss on your temple after you sit down next to him. You'd probably be beet red, knowing everyone is staring and why, but Tyrion doesn’t give a single fuck. He’d look his family dead in the face and ask “Anything else to add?” but all he’d get is a stony silence from Cersi and some derisive muttering from Tywin. At the very least, you’d have a few peaceful meals for a little while.

Spoiling: So this one is a little dicey. On the one hand, Tyrion doesn’t appreciate feeling like he’s being used for his family’s money. On the other hand, it’s deeply satisfying to him to use said money to get you whatever your little heart desires. All you have to do is mention you like something in passing and it’s yours. If you have any particular hobbies, Tyrion will make sure you’re well stocked with any supplies you need to do them. He also loves keeping you adorned in the finest jewels. I’ve always had a personal headcanon that he’d give his wife a very extravagant House Lannister pendant, a golden lion the size of your fist with ruby eyes on a thick, braided chain. Tywin would of course gripe at him for the extravagance, which Tyrion would wave off without a second thought. Also, he'd probably fuck you at some point while you’re wearing it lol.

Lingerie: The selection available in Westeros for this kind of thing probably isn’t super extensive, but what is available Tyrion will take full advantage of. It really gets him all hot and bothered that he’s the only one who gets to see you in this kind of stuff, and the feel of silk and lace under his fingers is an added bonus in an already pleasurable experience.

Praise Kink: Oh gods above and below, does Tyrion ever have a praise kink. Hardly anyone has had a kind word for this man in his whole life, so when he does hear any he goes completely feral. Please, tell him what a good boy he is and how good he’s making you feel and how handsome he is. He will absolutely lose his goddamn mind, as well as sell his soul to you on the spot. Tyrion will also return the favour if that’s something you want. He’s going to lavish on the compliments and flattery every chance he has, he’ll tell you you’re his stunning goddess of love and beauty and mean every word from the bottom of his heart.

Breeding: It takes a lot of work to get him to admit it, but I truly think Tyrion wants to be a father. Not because of any Lannister legacy bullshit like Tywin, he’d be thrilled if you gave him a pack of daughters. It’s more so that he really just wants to have a family of his own and to try and give his children the love he was denied in his own childhood. He’d be nervous about it at first, what if his children are too much like him? What if he loses you during the birth? Give him lots of patience and reassurance and before you know it, he’s dragging you off to put a babe in your belly ASAP.

Part of the attraction for Tyrion is watching you go through the experience of being pregnant. He loves your baby bump and your soft breasts. If the hormones have you riled, he’d be incredibly gentle while making love to you, not wanting to hurt you or the baby. He’d rub your ankles if they’re sore and have the maesters make hot compresses if your back hurts from carrying his child. You’re so beautiful to him like this, and any complaints about weight gain or stretch marks would be silenced with deep, open mouthed kisses. As long as it’s not any danger to you and you’re happy being a mother, Tyrion wants you pregnant as often as you can be. Don’t be surprised if you have a few “stepladder twins” who are less than a year apart.

It also comes back to a possession thing. Having you bear his children is the best way he can think of to show the world who you belong to. It would also be the one thing that would get Tywin off his back about “an heir and a spare” while deeply infuriating the man because there’s no way anyone would tolerate his son to conceive even one child, let alone two, but here you are all the same. Tyrion would be extra attentive to you while you’re pregnant in public, taking every opportunity he can to rest his hand on your growing belly and caress it gently. Even if people stare, he doesn’t give a shit. He’s proud of you and the baby you’re going to have, those idiots are just jealous because they know it’ll be the most beautiful child in all of Westeros and their little sprogs could never compete.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Now, even if the two of you were married while the Lannisters are in the Red Keep, Tyrion will point blank refuse to fuck you there unless his family is away, and even then maybe not. Its not that he doesn't want to or doesn'tlove you, it’s just that the walls have ears in this place. If it’s not Tywin or Cersi sticking their noses in his business, Vary' will probably have his “little birds” keeping a close watch on the two of you.

No, anywhere in Kings Landing is out of the question. You’re too important to Tyrion to risk having you used as a pawn in his family’s schemes. There’s no way he’s going to be ever able to completely let his guard down while you’re there, so first chance he’s got Tyrion is going to try and send you away somewhere safer.

Casterly Rock would be his first choice. With his father and sister busy stirring shit up in King’s Landing, they’d totally ignore the Rock despite it being their homeland, and as far as Tyrion’s concerned that makes it the perfect place. In spite of his rough childhood, he’s always felt protected there, and there would be so many things he’d want to show you. The library where he learned to read, the beach and its tide pools,the gardens and all the other secret places hed discovered as a boy. Also, having you stay in his childhood bedroom with him would be so special for Tyrion, the two of you snuggled up under familiar covers with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance. Casterly Rock was, and always will be his home and Tyrion wants nothing more than to make you a part of it for good.

If the Rock isn’t an option, I can also see him trying to negotiate the rights to some out of the way holdfast outside the city limits. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it would certainly be less suffocating than The Red Keep and at least there he could choose his own guards to watch over you. Tyrion might even push for Jamie to come and mind you for a few days a week, in spite of Cersi’s protests. He trusts his brother more than anyone else, and knows that Jamie would do right by you even with their sister whispering in his ear because he loves Tyrion so much.

Once he has either one of these options secure, Tyrion would probably want to keep your sex life limited to the bedroom. He really doesn’t want you to be the subject of gossip, even if he’s hired the household staff himself. He values your privacy, as well as his own, and also loves the ample amount of time being in the bedroom allows. I can also see him going as far as to have new locks made for your shared chambers, and you two would be the only ones with keys. He really doesn’t want to run the risk of your maids or Podrick walking in at an inopportune moment, even if they do knock it’s better safe than sorry.

However, I do think Tyrion also harbours a fantasy about taking you on his desk in the Hand’s Office someday. Whether or not this ever comes to fruition, at least he’s got something pleasant to think about during those long, redundant days.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I wouldn’t say it takes much to get Tyrion going. We all know he’s got an ample sex drive, and isn't the type to pass up a little love no matter the occasion. However for him, there's a couple of things you can do that really, really just push all the right buttons.

The first is watching you mouth off to someone. If you’re shyer or more softer spoken, don’t worry about it. Tyrion will always play your gallant knight and saviour. But if you’re the type of person who speaks their mind? Oh boy. There’s nothing Tyrion loves more than getting to bear witness to you giving some fool a well deserved tongue lashing. He’d watch the whole thing over the rim of his goblet, smirking with a particular twinkle in his eye.

When he first heard you call Joffery a “craven little pissant” he truly thought he might die from delight. Thankfully, that didn’t happen and Tyrion had enough sense to whisk you off before his nephew could react, something about “She’s not herself your majesty, women’s troubles and the like. I’m sure she has no idea what she’s saying”

Of course, instead of the scolding you thought was coming, Tyrion would pull you into the nearest alcove and kiss you until you were breathless. When he’s done he’d announce “You wonderful, mad woman. I’ve been wanting to do that since the little shit could talk, but PLEASE pick your fights more carefully or we’ll end up in matching gallows.”

After that, you’d have to see sense, at least where Joffrey is concerned. Anyone else though? Totally fair game, especially if they insult Tyrion. You’ve told off his sister more than once and even gone up against Tywin on his behalf. Naturally, the two of them would complain to Tyrion about “making his wife mind” but to that Tyrion would respond “I told her not to start fights, but she is more than welcome to finish them” most likely while he’s pulling you towards your bedchamber to finish things his own way lol The two of you are the snarkiest, sassiest couple in all of King’s Landing and mutual bitching is your favourite couple’s activity.

On the other side of the coin, being particularly soft or compassionate is the other way to get Tyrion’s attention. It doesn’t just have to be with him either. If you’re particularly gentle with Tommen and Myrcella or with any animal you come across or the small folk in the city, Tyrion is just going to melt. He can hardly believe he’s found someone who’s genuinely good hearted in this rotting shithole, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t grateful for you either. When he sees you being particularly sweet, his motivations are less “I am so turned on right now let me have you” and more “I love you so much, you are literal sunshine please let me show you how much you mean to me”

More than once, you’ve glanced up while playing with Myrcella and Tommen to find Tyrion watching you with an expression on his face you can’t quite read. If you’ve already given him a couple children, odds are tonight you’ll conceive another one. If you haven’t yet, your first is most likely coming along nine months after this.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Tyrion’s pretty adventurous but even there’s a couple things he’s going to have boundaries about.

The first of these is any kind of impact play. If this is after what happened with Ros (Alayaya in the books) and Sansa’s own beating, Tyrion couldn’t bring himself to do it even with your consent. Hurting you would bring back too many unpleasant memories, and the world already thinks the worst of him. The implication that he beats his wife on top of everything else would be too much.

With that in mind, consensual non-consent is off the table, as well as any kind of sharing. The trauma about Tysha runs too deeply for that. Tyrion also is too insecure to share you with anyone else, even if he tries to play it off. Deep down, a part of him worries you’ll leave him for a better, taller man, so why run the risk by letting one into your bed?

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Now, Tyrion isn’t the type to pass up getting his cock sucked but honestly? He prefers going down on you.

If the two of you are married and you were a virgin, Tyrion isn’t going to expect you to go down on him, especially if you’re of high birth. Unfortunately, in Westeros that act is usually associated with brothel girls and Tyrion wouldn’t want to demean you. But if you’re still offering after an extended period of time? Well, who’s he to say no when you ask so nicely.

Tyrion would be really sweet with you while you’re going down on him though. The last thing he wants is to make you feel pressured or like he’s manhandling you too much. Expect a lot of praise, him stroking your hair and face and begging you to look up at him so he can see your beautiful eyes. Use that last one with caution though because it’ll have him cumming in seconds.

When it’s your turn, Tyrion’s going to show just as much enthusiasm. This man eats pussy like it’s his goddamn job, and he will take it as a personal failure if you don’t have at least three orgasms while he’s down there. The only thing he loves more than a nice glass of Arbour red is the taste of you on his lips, if they could make that in a vintage he’d literally drink himself to death.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

So for Tyrion, this really depends on his partner and what they want because he can get what he needs from both.

I’ve mentioned this a couple times, but if you’re a virgin he’s going to go like molasses slow. I’m talking like hours of foreplay, getting you used to his mouth and fingers, making you’re absolutely relaxed and stretched out comfortably before he even thinks of introducing his cock into the mix.

If this isn’t your first rodeo though and you want something hard, fast, and even a little disrespectful? Tyrion’s happy to provide, he’s a man of many talents after all.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Again, Tyrion is versatile. Does he prefer to have these long extended love making sessions that go on for hours? Of course, especially if it’s in a romantic relationship. He wants that intimacy and time with you.

However, there are going to be some weeks where everyone is up his ass, Joffrey has managed to squander what little money the crown has again, some minor lords are picking fights over the tiniest slights imaginable, and the Black Brothers are asking him to produce more men from thin air to fill their ranks. All in a day’s work for Tyrion.

When things get like this, clearly he’s going to be super busy and strung out. So if all you have time for is a quick romp before bed or before he leaves in the morning? Not his favourite but he’d rather have that than nothing at all.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Tyrion’s down for a little risk now and again. It keeps things fresh and exciting for the two of you. Just so long as it doesn’t cross any of the boundaries set in N, he’ll try anything almost once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Honestly? If you can keep up, Tyrion’s willing to go all night. His years of practice have given him an almost god like stamina, if you can outpace him he’s going to be pleasantly surprised because it hasn’t happened yet.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

So again, I don’t think toys are really a “thing” in Westeros, but someone with such a “diverse” palate as Tyrion will probably have a couple of surprises. However, this will probably be more kink type gear like blindfolds, ropes and maybe a gag somewhere. If you wanna use these things on yourself or him, he’s more than happy to oblige, but won’t be upset if you’re not interested either. He just wants you to be happy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease

Oh gods. Bring your patience and self control because this man is a MENACE.

Nowhere is safe from him either. The two of you could be in the fricking SEPT and he’d slip a note into your hymnal detailing all the filthy things he wants to do with you. Meanwhile he’s got his eye on the septon and the most placid expression, like he didn’t just commit you both to the Seven Hells via sacrilege He’s also not above getting handsy with you under the table while you’re having a meal with his family or in court. Like I said, nowhere is safe.

Revenge would be easy enough to get though. Just whisper something spicy in his ear and grab his trouser lacings right before he’s for a Small Council meeting. He’s going to be hot, bothered and ready to boil over for the next few hours and unable to focus on anything except the highlight reel his mind is playing of you. You’ll absolutely pay for it when he comes back to your rooms that night, but it’s also completely worth it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I'd say Tyrion makes about the average amount of noise for any man, you get moans and grunts, which get louder when he cums. The one thing that kind of stands out about him is he's maybe a little bit more talkative? Expect lots of dirty talk, compliments and cursing. The only way to truly shut him up is to put his mouth between your legs or on your tits lol.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think it's probably because Kings Landing as a city reeks so goddamn bad, but I can see Tyrion having a thing about you wearing perfume? It would most likely start on your wedding night when a nice perfume is tradition along with the wedding silks, and Tyrion enjoys the scent on your skin so much he makes it a habit to keep adding to your collection. You'd probably own quite a few exotic and rare bottles after you've been together a few years, Tyrion would have most likely sought them out from merchants from the Free Cities and the Summer Isles. Wearing them can have like an almost pheromone type effect on him, especially if they're scents you've worn exclusively during sex.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

So, I'm just going to go off how Tyrion's cock is described in the books. I figure he's about average size for most men, around 5 inches, so not as small as everyone likes to speculate about. Girth wise I wouldn't say he's too big, maybe a smidge wider than most but not enough that it's going to cause you pain. The most notable thing about his cock is the head, which darkens a fair bit in colour when he's hard and is exceptionally sensitive. He's also uncut bc I can't really see that being a thing in Westeros again unless you travel out to the Free Cities or Dorne.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

How high you got? :P

Honestly, we know Tyrion is always down to clown. All you need to do is give your consent and he's raring to go. He's also a grown man, however, and has absolutely immaculate self control. Don't ever expect him to pressure or try and manipulate you into fulfilling his needs, your comfort comes first and foremost. He'll make do with his hand if needs must and won't make you feel the least bit guilty about it either.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

In the books/show, it's stated that Tyrion is pretty much an insomniac (same bro) so when you first get together it's pretty rare that he sleeps after sex. Instead, you can expect him to stay awake and cuddle you until you're asleep, and then he'll either read until dawn or shuffle off to his office to get some work done.

It's only when you start making an active effort to help him sleep that he'll be able to doze off next to you. The surefire way to get him to rest is by having his head on your chest or your lap and stroking his hair while you sing to him. It doesn't matter what, lullabies, ballads, tavern songs, he just likes the sound of your voice and the warmth of your skin against his.

He wouldn't tell you this, but Tysha would do the same thing for him back when she was around. He always managed to sleep fine for her, it was only after she left his life that his insomnia began. Maybe now that you're in his life, he can finally be well rested again.