#the most dreadful moment is TRULY yet to come

[maenjiro]

i just realized october is no more 4 months away and we’ll get the new tokyo revengers season next month, i’m gonna throw up i am not ready in the slightest . the most dreadful moment is yet to come 😃

[queers-gambit]

Mother Knows No Bounds

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader -> technically Velaryon!wife!reader, but you can pick and choose

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: 10,000 points to your Hogwarts House if you can find the Lord of the Rings quote

warnings: cursing, vilified!Alicent, Aemond needs his big brother. descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, toxic family being toxic; um is this technically neglect? abuse? potentially triggering description of medical phenomenons, i guess OC Aemond ?

please note again and do not proceed if you are triggered by any of the following content: descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, involuntary termination, depiction of medical procedure.

you are not missing anything by skipping this, please value your comfort!

The city had come to a screeching halt the moment extreme temperatures skyrocketed, citizens unable to bear the scorching sun during waking, working hours. It was only the brave, stupid, poor, or accommodated persons that dared venture about their lives when the heat index had tripled; silent, since the heat was so sweltering, nobody wanted to add to it by talking. Even the animals were quiet and scarce around the streets, most seeking shelter under any shade they could find.

Women skinny dipped. Children ran around without their clothes. Men forewent any and all armor, most even going shirtless.

The guards were on short patrols and constantly rotated to try and save them from heatstroke. The fishermen all left port to spend time on the water since it was cooler than being on land. Whores wore less than ever before. Vendors constructed makeshift fans for their own air current.

The temperature spike was truly murderous. At dusk, gravediggers traveled the city with a bell and horse-toted cart, announcing if anyone wanted their dead disposed of, now was the time. The heat caused any elderly to dehydrate, their hearts simply stopping; and for young children to overheat and catch too-high fevers.

It was a dreadful time to be alive in King's Landing because the city had next to no coverage, so, the sun beat down on citizens in a suffocating, unbearable, offensive manner. None stood a chance: the young, old, rich, poor, everyone was a target.

For some reason, the fat Lords of the Realm had demanded the King hold court to voice their complaints; temperatures making many operate on short fuses. However, due to his sickly, deteriorating state and wicked weather, King Viserys was unable to sit the Throne; the responsibility falling onto the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. And because she was Queen, his daughter, Alicent was always in attendance.

Yet for some reason, she had sent guards and servants to retrieve her children - including you.

You'd been married to Aemond about 21 months, and while a seemingly short time, certain single days felt more like three when loved by a man you considered your best friend. You had known the One Eyed Prince back when he had no need for an eyepatch, sapphire, or silly nickname, and for years, you were decent friends before growing to attach at the hip. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and best of all, he was a wildly good listener. Even as a child, he didn't talk too much, but still more than he did now; and all his life, he was simply a listener. It made for a peaceful and trustworthy marriage.

21 months of marriage, and now, (almost) 7 months pregnant.

Aemond was over the moon with pride, joy, and excitement when you told him the news. He was eager to meet the babe, and the moment he learned, Aemond started gathering whatever material and furniture he could. He commissioned 11 Septas to knit a series of baby blankets; most with Targaryen colors and / or design. Otto was happy to see his grandson looking forward to married life, and Helaena was elated for you both. She's always liked you like a sister, always thought you were kind, just, and fair, with a healthy balance of being stubborn - all topped off with heaping loyalty. To everyone's surprise, even Aegon sincerely offered congratulations to you both when you broke the joyful news, telling you and Aemond he was excited to meet his newest niece or nephew.

However, amongst the fanfare and triumph, two women remained permanently dismayed by the entire marriage that the prospect of a child genuinely angered them.

The first woman was your mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but she was annoyed simply because she knew the Targaryen Curse was real and thought this was not something you should endure. You were her firstborn, her brightest star, her dearest love; she worried herself to the brim about you, and while she respected your marriage, she's never offered approval.

The second woman was Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent Hightower, who chose to silently seeth to herself (for a time) instead of voicing any opinion or emotion. Years ago, she and your mother were the closest of friends, and after she married Viserys, Alicent lost her friend and the tension has only festered from there. However, now that Rhaenyra was living on Dragonstone, you were the only person close enough to take the brunt end of Alicent's anger and she found new ways to project that. Simply put, she despised you - but she would've hated whoever "took" her (unofficial) favorite child "from" her; who became the leading lady in his life. Alicent's anger was justified, but only towards Rhaenyra - not you.

Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.

Alicent knew you were innocent of everything. Yet somedays, she could not restrain her anger and would lash out like a dog chained-up; but you had thick skin. You always endured her quick jabs, sharp tongue, and snarling insults because you loved and respected Aemond too much to bite back at his mother. However, while most days, Alicent was amicable, some days, she was a downright bitch, and other days, she was absolutely diabolical.

Alicent's anger took over and when this happened, she was powerless towards impulse; resulting in usually terribly stressful events that honestly have no business being so fucking stressful - or even further, by becoming catastrophic. For example, years ago, when Luke cut Aemond's eye from his socket, she took the King's dagger from his person and tried to attack Rhaenyra. She ended up slicing the Crowned Princess' forearm, but far more damage was already done, and nothing would ever be the same.

Alicent's anger often blinded her and drove her to impulsive decisions or reactions, and this today, in this heatwave, she went too far.

You were sat in your bedchambers, Aemond at your side as you both listened to a sweating Grand Maester; both your hand and your husband's resting on the curve of your pregnant belly.

"Now, remember, Princess, in these conditions, it's important to lay low for the sake of your health and the baby's. Don't be on your feet in the heat too long, don't exert yourself, drink more water than you usually would, and rest as much as possible." He handed you a tea bag, explaining, "For the nerves before bed."

"Thank you," you agreed, taking what he offered. Aemond saw the Grand Maester out of your chambers as you sighed, using a handheld fan to wave cooler air over your face.

"It's criminal, this heat. Gotta get someone in here with a fan," Aemond mumbled to himself, leading you to a lounge chair to rest on. "Can I get you anything, sweet love?"

"Water, if you'd please," you smiled.

He agreed and stood, but just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Aemond permitted, moving to the table in the room to pour you a goblet of water. The guard who entered wasn't known to you by name, but Aemond greeted him casually, "Ser Mythos. What do we own this pleasure?"

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"I've asked you why."

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped, "we heard you! Yeah? Gods," you cursed, head tilted back in annoyance; eyes squeezing shut as your child kicked your bladder.

"The Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Lady and my Prince."

Aemond glanced at you, sighed shortly through his nose, then turned to Ser Mythos to snap, "I will be along shortly, but my wife was told to rest in this heat for our baby's health. We'll need palms brought in for fanning."

"And the Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince, both of you. Both, my Prince, both."

Your eyes rolled, telling Aemond, "I think the Queen wants us both, my love." Then shifted your glare towards the messenger, sounding as tired as you looked, "All right, fine, fine, fine, fucking fine, give us a moment to dress and we will be there presently."

"My Lady," the guard accepted, turned, and left the room.

"What could Mother want with us both?" Aemond snipped at you when the door shut with an echoing-clang.

"Does it matter? She's called for us," you frowned.

"They can at least call you by your proper title - we are married now. You are a Princess of the City, they should address you as such."

You waved him off, "Who cares about that? C'mere. Help me up, my love, please. Your kid's sitting heavy."

You and Aemond dressed for court in thin clothing before fixing your hair so it didn't cling to either of your necks. It was already far too warm to even think properly, and surely, nobody would judge if you attended court with your hair pulled up, nor judge Aemond for the fashionably bun you convinced him to wear. No make-up was used, no heels; no corset, nor any pinch of leather. Aemond didn't like the last bit, but you were stern in your worry, telling him that leather would retain his body heat and today was already stifling enough.

When ready, you vacated your chambers and walked to the Throne Room, seeing it filled with a sizable crowd that surely would do nothing to help the sticky heat hanging in the air. Aemond held your hand tightly with his head held high to lead you towards his mother, who stood at the base of the Iron Throne. When close enough, Aemond asked, "You called for us, Your Grace?"

"I did," she eyed you both. "This is a good learning opportunity for you both, I thought it best we were all here."

"Mother, it's too hot for - "

"We are all suffering the same heat," she cut Aemond off.

"Yes, but my wife is pregnant, Mother. The Maester told her to rest, not stand in court with a hundred bloody people."

"You mean to tell me she has a higher priority than - "

"Yes. That is what I am saying, Mother. My wife certainly has priority over everything else as far as I am concerned."

Alicent shook her head, "For as long as we hold places in court, we will attend court. All of us, as a united family. Now, pay attention, you both will hold places here after King Viserys, best you know this all now."

So, you stood there like an obedient dog as slowly, one person after another approached the Throne to tell Ser Otto Hightower their grievances. They yapped up all the advice and court rulings; Aemond standing at your side, and while he was listening to what was being said, he also kept an eye on you out of sheer worry. There was no air to blow, no window to open; mediocre fans and palms brought in to manually wave by a few sets of servants. Yet it wasn't enough.

Sweat bulleted on brows. Pale cheeks flushed with heat. Legs started to shake from stress. Clothes dampened and clung to skin.

You were all of the above and then some!

The heat felt criminally offensive, and you knew you wore your displeasure on your face. Discomfort while pregnant isn't easy to hide, your hand smoothing over your belly as you exhaled a slow, calming breath that did literally nothing to aid your tangible anger. The common folk still reported to Otto, but you knew this was far from over, trying to blink back your discomfort as your stomach churned; twisted; started to cramp with increasingly stabbing pain. The heat festered a headache and soon, the nausea set in.

Taking another deep, long breath, you focused on the man complaining about his neighbor stealing his crops, his silver, and how the other man was fucking his wife - in his very own barn! The man asked for permission to sentence the neighbor to trial by combat, and for the life of you, you could not understand why you needed to be present for this.

Another farmer came up, saying there were too many maggots in his fields and needed the King's coin to bring in specialized mulch for himself and all the farmers in all of the Riverlands - who were plagued by this contagious maggot infestation.

Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place came up and asked for an increased patrol of "the King's Men", sell swords sent to "keep the King's peace." A group with radically different tactics than Daemon's Gold Cloaks.

This "Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place" even presented his daughter, saying she was fit to marry the Prince Aemond. Eyes turned to you and for whatever reason, you felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. So, you shied away from it, shifting slightly closer to Aemond as Otto spoke with a bored expression, "Prince Aemond is wedded already. As is his brother, Prince Aegon."

"What 'bout the li'l one?"

"Pardon?" Otto blinked.

"The Queen's last son?"

"With respect, my Lord, our son is still a child learning the ways of the world and is no way fit to marry quite yet," Alicent cut in, your feet going numb and making you sway slightly. "The Crown has learned from other marriage pacts to examine all offers carefully," but Alicent's sharp words flew over your head as something in your stomach pinched sharply like a severe period cramp. Your breathing came out in shudders; holding onto Aemond securely as he looked down at you with worry.

Your entire face, neck, and chest glistened with sweat. It clung to your hair, raced down your chest, and when he got a closer look, he didn't like the discoloration to your skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...

"Then it shall be a long engagement so you might consider my daughter well!" The Lord barked, laughing gruffly. "She is not a disappointment, my Lord Hand."

"The Crown will consider your offer, Lord Peregrin, but the Crown must weigh other presented offers before marrying young Prince Daeron to anyone," Otto spoke diplomatically.

"Aye, I'll offer her dowry. Twenty thousand good men for your army, and I can spare about 500 Gold Dragons."

"Our army? Are we at war?" Otto faked a chuckle, your vision starting to blur but you refused to cause a scene. Your mouth had cotton in it; tongue sticking to your roof and your cramps were getting worse. You sweat so much, it was running down your neck, forehead, shoulders, lips, thighs, chest.

"Well, no, perhaps not in this moment, Lord Hand - Your Grace - but we know the rumors about the King's lineage," the Lord spoke boldly, making your blood boil, but the pain was over-powering your ability to speak. Tears actually coated your eyes. "Prince Aegon should be named the rightful heir to the Throne, so, if the time comes that he needs an army, my daughter's marriage to Prince Daeron would guarantee those men and swords."

Otto sighed as you gulped harshly, wincing in pain, a single tear rolling down your cheek. The cramping intensified, the bolts of pain setting your muscles on fire and radiating into your organs - or so it felt like. The Throne Room was too hot for you to withstand much longer; there was no water, and you'd been standing there going on three hours. Not to mention, you had been throwing up terribly violent in the night and mornings, meaning, you were probably (very likely) very dehydrated and that wasn't good for you nor the baby.

The longer you stood there, the sicker you felt. The longer you stood there, the more Aemond worried. The longer you stood there, the more time you had to develop a strong resentment towards Alicent. Your hand went to your belly, trying to regulate your breathing, but even your dress gave you away - sweat darkening the hemlines. Since finding out you were pregnant, you and Aemond agreed you would no longer wear corsets, and for a whole weekend, he took you to Highgarden to visit the tailors. They created a whole new "maternity wardrobe" that was loose but still womanly by being formfitting. They were made of breathable material, since Highgarden was tropical and often warm; and Aemond adored the sight of your bump.

"Aemond," you whispered, your husband looking down at you but so did Alicent. "I'm not feeling well, my love. I-I need to sit, I need water."

"We're almost done - "

"This is not the time to distract everyone," Alicent snapped quietly at you. "Focus, and let Aemond focus, too, he's the Prince. You don't need him for your every whim."

You only nodded and closed your mouth, clearing your throat of emotion, knowing something didn't wasn't right. It was more than a gut feeling now, you just inherently knew something was wrong. Disconnected. Short circuiting.

The hall was too hot.

Stifling hot. Suffocatingly hot. Stuffy sort of hot.

Overwhelmingly hot.

Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so fucking hot!

Your nausea got worse to the point you were going to hurl at any moment. You know that feeling? C'mon, yes you do! You start to feel a little shaky, then your mouth starts "sweating" (or watering) and you even get a little clammy; maybe you even start to look gaunt? Maybe your skin changes color? That feeling? Yeah, that's exactly what was happening!

So, to keep calm, you just start taking long, deep breaths. The last thing you wanted to do was panic when surrounded by so many members of court... Then something that felt like urine raced down your inner thighs, yet you barely noticed it, too distracted with keeping upright. Blood puddled beneath your skirts on the stone but nobody noticed yet. More Lords came and went, some Ladies, more and more farmers with trivial disputes. Fathers, sons, uncles, neighbors, you name it!

However, to your earnest shock, when a particularly amusing man came to speak to the King('s Hand), Aegon had glanced at his brother with an amused smirk, but caught sight of you, requiring a double-take. "Brother," Aegon turned from his 'front row seat', showing a rare moment of emotion by looking concerned at your being. "Oh, Gods, fuck," he worried, looking ready to extend his arms to you.

"Fuck," Aemond breathed, turning you to face him. "Can you hear me, sweet love? Hey, hey," he spoke your name, "can you hear me?"

But it was as if you were in a trance. Waves crushed over your ears, sweat rolling down your skin, appearing clammy and as if not in your own body. Aegon jolted forward when your eyes rolled back in your head, knees buckling, forcing your husband to catch you before you began your descent to the ground. When he caught you, it revealed the blood from under your skirts, and when Aemond got you on the ground, he realized your legs were coated in slick, mucus, and both dried and fresh blood; indicating you had been bleeding for hours.

"Call the Maester!" Aemond barked. "Get the bloody Maester!"

"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.

"I have eyes to see, brother, I know she is bleeding!" Aemond snapped, his panic tangible. "Love! My sweet love, please, open your eyes, please. Fuck's sake, please, open your eyes - let me see them. Sweetheart, please, c'mon - FUCK! Brother! Brother, help, please, there's blood! There's too much blood! Aegon! What do I do!? Aegon, please! What do I do!?"

"Let her breathe, brother, the Maester's are coming, it's gonna be all right, I-I've heard this can happen. Okay? Just gotta wait for the Maesters, Aemond," Aegon nodded, reaching a hand to his younger brother's shoulder in comfort. Otto descended the Throne to get a closer look as guards surrounded your unconscious body and Aemond's panicked, kneeling form.

"What happened?" Otto demanded.

"She passed out," Helaena frowned in worry, looking as if tears would soon fall. "And there's blood - she's been swaying, I-I think she was ill."

"It's the heat," Aemond snapped, tears down his cheeks. "We were told she needed rest in this temperature, but no." His glare turned to his mother, "We were both expected here."

"You saw the Grand Maester?"

"We did."

"He told her to lie down?" Otto asked, looking and sounding confused.

"To rest," Aemond nodded, supporting your limp head and neck.

When the Grand Maester arrived, he wasted no time in demanding your limp form be brought to his chambers for monitoring and examination. Aemond picked you up and carried you, leaving everyone else behind - or so he thought. The Maester spent a grand total of 43 minutes conducting diagnostic tests, and when the last exam was brought up, he asked Aemond to step out of the room as the examination would turn more intimate.

When Aemond stepped out, he was surprised to see Aegon and Helaena standing there. Aegon instantly pushed off the wall, asking, "Well? How is she? What's happening?"

"One last test," Aemond answered in a low mutter. "What're you doing here?"

"We wanted to make sure you were both all right," Helaena, his sweet sister, answered.

"Mother didn't demand you stay?"

"No, Mother actually called an end to court," Helaena told Aemond. "Grandfather was very angry."

"He was?"

"Never seen him like that," Aegon agreed, telling Aemond of the words Otto raged at Alicent.

When the chamber doors opened, Aemond was invited back inside. He took to your side instantly, but there was a knowing look in your eyes. You never looked at the Maester, only at your husband, as it was explained that due to the heat, you had become dehydrated over time and then spending the day in court, it was just too long a time being on your feet without water or fresh air. You had toppled over the side of heat stroke, the lack of hydration causing you to involuntarily miscarry.

The child would not grow and for your safety and health, the Maester would have to preform essentially what is an abortion to eliminate exposure to rot. Aemond blinked in astonishment, feeling confused about the turn of events, but when he realized you weren't able to respond, he looked at you.

He made the decision, seeing tears streaking your cheeks and the dead look in your eyes.

You were prepped for the procedure and while the Master tried to escort Aemond out, nobody was able to move him from his place at your side. It took the better part of an hour, but when it was over, not only were you given an additional dose of Milk of the Poppy, but Aemond was also given several vials for you in the coming days. He was also given a plethora of herbs, spices, remedies, salves, therapies, and treatments; being given explicit instruction and detail about all he was given, being told when to use what to best help you.

Aemond stooped to pick you up, again, refusing to let anyone else touch you, and the Grand Maester held the door for him. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and Otto were all revealed, but Aemond didn't even so much as blink at them; whatever life might've been left lurking behind his eye being completely snuffed out. He made a direct beeline for your chambers with the intention to let you rest in a soft, familiar bed for however long you needed, but he was followed by his family and knew this would be anything but a peaceful time.

"L-Love?" You whimpered when your husband laid you on your marital bed. "Aemond? Aemond?" You asked a little more frantically, being soothed swiftly.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart," he hushed, ignoring the audience; one hand holding yours as the other pet your hair back. "Hey, just breathe for me, darling, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I-I might be sick," you complained in a whisper, eyes unable to open as sweat bulleted on your skin.

"'S all right," he assured, grabbing a basin to leave on the bed beside you so he could sit at your side. "'M right here, you're not alone."

Aemond watched the way you harshly gulped, a hand dragging up to press to your belly. "W-What happened?" You mumbled, making his heart clench. "I just... There was a lot of heat and then pain." Your eyes finally opened to meet his, "I remember pain, Aemond."

With a glance up at his family, Aemond told you stiffly, "You remember correctly, love. The, uh... The heat was too much for you to handle, sweet girl, and that wasn't your fault." He took a long breath, clutching one of your hands in both of his, "But it was just too much. We couldn't save them... We couldn't save her."

"I-It was a girl?"

"It was," Aemond confirmed, reaching for your other hand to hold tightly. "And you didn't do this. Hmm? You hear me? This is not your doing."

"But my body - "

"No," he refused with a harsh tone. Realizing you were not the one to take his anger out on, he cleared his throat, "Sorry, love, I just," he took a breath. "Listen to me, okay? No, my sweet love, we were told to rest - you and I were told this heat was too much for the babe and that you would need rest. We meant to, we had every intention to follow the Maester's orders, but..." Another pause as he fought off the emotion clawing through his chest. "But for some reason, royal obligation was more important than our family, and Mother refused to let us miss today's court appearance."

"Huh...?" You breathed, still relatively drowsy from the day. But the emotion was real, your husband saw your pain. "What're you talking about, love? Aemond? What's - What the hell happened to our baby? Where's our baby?"

Aemond's jaw steeled and a tear streaked down his cheek as he forced himself to explain, "The Queen demanded our attendance in court today. And standing in the heat for hours cost us our daughter's life. I am so sorry, my sweet love, but we do not have our daughter because she is... She isn't in your womb anymore," his hand laid over your belly, your own automatically following. "She can't ever join us, our family," he spoke slowly, then tearing his glare away from your tired figure to his mother, sneering, "because my mother can't let go of a decades-old feud with a woman no longer living in this very city."

"Aemond," you whispered, heart shattered in your chest but still managing, "do not take this out on her."

"No?" He snapped, still glaring at his mother but clutching your belly, "If not for her, our daughter would still be safe in her mother's womb and we'd still have the chance to one day hold her. But no," he spoke as slowly as he stood to his feet, pulling his hands away from you, "no, we were unjustly denied that chance."

When her (favorite) child faced her with such hatred, dread, distraught, soul-sucking eyes, Alicent frowned with tears in her own eyes. She had so much to say, but only managed, "I did not intend for this."

"This hatred you feel for Rhaenyra is literally costing lives! For the love of all the Gods, my wife is nothing like her mother! They are not one in-the-same, this does not make her your new target to unleash Hell upon - she has done no wrong and yet suffers these heinous consequences!"

"I did not intend for this! You must know that!" She repeated in desperation. "I only wanted you both to partake in your duties - soon, you will be the ones conducting business at court and you must be readied for what may come!"

"That does not give you the right to forfeit her health!"

"How was I to know - "

"The bloody Maester told us - but evidently, the word of the trained professional is not good enough for you!" Aemond raged, something in his heart snapping. "We are denied the right to meet our daughter because, what? What is it? You cannot reach Rhaenyra right now so you will take the closest thing - being my fucking wife!?"

"Aemond," Otto tried to step in, "perhaps this is getting out of hand."

"It was already out of hand," Aegon defended with a sharp snap, "the moment the Maester was ignored."

"You refuse to respect us," Aemond snapped at his mother, everyone silencing themselves when another tear fell down his cheek. "You refuse to respect us, to listen, and all for why? You think you know better than the Maesters? Or because she is daughter of Rhaenyra?"

"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.

"You've gone too far," his head shook, devastation taking hold, "and I do hope you find deliverance from the Gods, because from me? I do not see how I can find a shred of ability to forgive such a sin."

It was quiet. Helaena's head was bowed, Aegon glared at his mother like Aemond; Otto frowned as he avoided all eye contact.

Imagine everyone's surprise when bare feet padded over the stone ground, two shaking hands raising to press into Aemond's stomach from behind. "My love," you mumbled softly, "please, do not speak so hatefully in this prolonged grief. We will do all we can do now and pray on this, but if we want to heal, we will need to learn to forgive. This was not a malicious, thought-out plan executed in partner with the co-conspiring weather; it was a terrible circumstance that the Gods have chosen us to endure. Your mother can pray for forgiveness, she's owed that right; and we will say our own, but I know that one day, we will be blessed and bring a child into this world. Because it's you and I, Aemond, and our child would be the full embodiment of the purest, truest love - and for something that perfect, we'll need time." You took a breath, looking sickly, gaunt; eyes full of tears as you ended, "But it is not this day."

Aemond turned to wrap his arms around you, insisting, "You should be resting." When he got you to turn to move for the bed again, he snarled at his mother, "She's the one who just lost a child and yet still defends you."

"Perhaps it's best we leave them alone," Aegon recommended. "We'll have meals sent for you both," he told his brother with a meaningful nod. "You both just take your time."

"Thank you," Aemond sighed, easing you back to the mattress; laying a single, thin sheet over your body. When Aegon had ushered everyone out, Aemond just stared down at you for a long moment, sighing sadly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, sweet love."

"Just lay with me," you requested.

He moved to strip himself of his linens, the heat still sweltering, and laid beside you; instantly cuddling you into his bare chest. Aemond knew you didn't want to talk, but this needed said, and he whimpered, "This is my fault."

"What?" You gaped, looking up at him in shock. You quickly pulled his leather eye patch off to force his full attention, holding his cheek and demanding, "What did you just say?"

"If you and I did not marry, if I had not pursued you - courted you," he shook his head, brows crinkled from restrained sobs, "we would not be in this position, you would not know this pain. We knew the tension in our family, we knew the hatred between our mothers, and still I wanted you. This is my fault, I shouldn't've done this - you should not have to endure this."

Your hand reached up to caress the side of his face; foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, warm the same space, sweat onto one another, but never wanting to be apart. It was a sticky embrace but you both needed it, and you hushed, "I regret nothing about us. Nothing, Aemond. If I knew how this would play out, I'd do it all again because I know I love you beyond words. Beyond," you giggled lightly, "rational thought, even. Aemond, everything you are, I adore, and all we are together is... It's the greatest pleasure of my life. My greatest honor."

"I do not deserve a woman like you."

"Perhaps not," you teased, "but you have me anyway. And what do we do with rare women, my Prince?"

His lips found yours in a sweeping kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. When he pulled back, he whispered, "We love them well."

A week later, King's Landing would find relief from the unwavering, record-breaking heatwave - only to be blasted by a wave of dragon fire. It was only then the Prince Aemond was seen with his wife for the first time since "The Throne Room Incident", and both were dressed in the traditional color of funerals: black.

You were bestowed an incredibly small bundle of black cloth, and with the rest of the Royal Family following, ventured to a distant hill where a funeral was to take place. Because your daughter was still so very tiny, she was laid in a fiery basin with only you and Aemond to preside over; offering prayer in High Valyrian. He held you close, the wind from the coast whipping all clothing around, and just behind everyone, Vhagar landed with a distinct thundering thud.

You didn't move, staring into the flames.

Aemond looked back, and when Vhagar saw the tears in her master's eye, noting the way he turned back to comfort you and grieve over your daughter, the dragon roared. A roar so loud, it was heard from the Riverlands. A roar so powerful, it shook the ground they all stood on. A roar so terrible, it made a few throats swell in emotion. A roar so sad, ballads would be written about it.

King's Landing might've been relieved from the weather's temperature, but as Vhagar felt her master mourning his daughter, she released an angry flame into the air that the citizens all felt.

For years, on the contrary, the entire city would feel Prince Aemond's cold shoulder to his mother, Queen Alicent, but for now, the heat of grief demanded to be felt.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[skyrigel]

Grim Reaper! Simon x f!reader | tw: death

Grim Reaper! Simon who's supposed to take you away, between life and death, after and before, here and gone.

Grim Reaper! Simon who watched you all day, couldn't help the cold dread that clouded him because you were so full of life, despite the mess, you woke up and made your coffee. Choosing your clothes and saving that very expensive dress for some other time, some special day — not knowing this is the last, your most special. Instead picking on that shirt you loved for it's colour, not knowing it would end up only red.

Grim Reaper! Simon who stood helplessly when life was squashed out of you. One moment of extreme pain and then nothing at all. People screaming and pitying and murmuring, while you clutched your chest and raised above, looking around — blinking and confused, until you looked down and your pupils widened. Oh..gone.

Grim Reaper! Simon who clasped your hand as you cried and lamented, a life you hated so much and yet you loved it just the same. Glancing back at the flesh, hands outstretched as if begging you to not leave, same eyes, same face, same fucking everything — just lifeless.

Grim Reaper! Simon who held your soul as you wept and sobbed, it wasn't your fault...you were just trying to save the puppy, it wasn't — but now you were dead. No prayer would count. And these people around you, they're just watching your lifeless frame while you cry and cry.

Grim Reaper! Simon who knew how it went, one snap and you were truly gone to the other side. “T-this it it ? Is this the end ?” you sobbed more, remembering your goodbyes, did you tell you mum that you loved her, or did you tell dad his burnt toast were your favourite, did your friend knew they were so amazing and you loved them ?

Grim Reaper! Simon who could read your mind, “No. Come now.” he echoed, lifting you away from your dead body, just flesh that resembled you, all those things that made you a real person crumbled under those rubber tyre, now nothing but memories.

Grim Reaper! Simon who shaked his skeleton of a head, covered with his ghostly black hood, swaying like cloak behind him. You wouldn't stop crying, he couldn't bear that. “No, sweetheart.” He traced your jaw, letting those tears vapour in a whoosh,“Not yet. Not so soon. Not for you.”

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you back to your apartment, letting you take it all, your fingertips against smiling people trapped behind glasses, your cat purring in her cushion, notes sticked around, empty checkboxes that would never get ticked.

Grim Reaper! Simon who held above the dress you'd saved. “You would look so lovely.” he kept, ‘You always do.’ to himself, he sat as you licked the last bit of Nutella and patted your cat, oblivious to so many things.

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you to the beach because you never got time to go one, never had anyone to go with you. Now was the time and company.

Grim Reaper! Simon who sat beside you watching the last bits of rays disappearing into nothingness, letting sky turn darker and stars twinkle in it's wake.

Grim Reaper! Simon who might be smiling just a bit when you want to go for a night walk, with no fear and no worries. He's swaying behind you, while you are almost flying with new freedom, a new sense of living or dead taking over you. There was a before that you loved but there's also an after that awaits. It's okay, Simon had said. It's going to be okay.

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you on rooftop because you wanted to see the city, the whole fucking city. “How you wanted to go ?” He found himself speaking, he never did that, it's a simple affair — guide them to the other side, that's it. You rewarded him with a smile, “Like this.” You whispered, he would hear it anyway, “I wanted to be gone like this...on my own will, L-like —” You choked on your own words, “— to jump from a very tall somthing.” and that's the irony, your life was squashed out of you, no fall and no wind smashing your face and nothing like you thought.

Grim Reaper! Simon who would grant all your wishes, “Come” he said, the second time. First, he said it when he was pulling you back while your eyes were struck on those that belonged to you, the very same but truly empty — gone before it's time.

Grim Reaper! Simon who wanted you to be happy, forever if he could help it. He took your hand in his and floated to the edge, across the horizon. There's sun rising from new beginnings, “I can't die a second time.” you laughed, a soft choke in your throat. Your stomach twisted in your guts and it's shouldn't be like this. You should feel empty and whatever void meant to be, but this knot wouldn't let go.

Grim Reaper! Simon who shook his ghost of head, tilting his head affectionately to you, “No. but you can live.”

Grim Reaper! Simon who took the fall with you, in the dress you always wanted to wear, smelling like all the things you loved, your city and salt and your favourite perfume. A smile that was forever young and true. There with him, between life and death.

Please always take care. Someone somewhere loves you so much and you mean the world to them. Please remember, please know you're loved and blessed and mean so much more than you think. Xoxo.

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[abbyromanoff]

Hello bestie! I hope you’re doing better <3

This is only a request if they’re open, if not enjoy the thots!

Stepmom!Nat finding reader humping a couch or anything in the area to get off cause her one night stand left her horny. R’s mom is out of town and Nat starts getting hard and realizes it’s now or never to have and cum inside her stepdaughter.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 1956

WARNINGS: step parent/step child relationship, cheating (Nat is married to R’s mom, talks of unfulfilling marriages, Nat has a dick, smut obvi, jealousy, hook ups, 69’ing, masturbation, cunnilingus, mentions of anal, blowjobs, denied orgasm, praise, degrading, age gaps (legal), R is 19-20 ish and Nat is late 30’s - early 40’s, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

She listened with a scowl as the bed from your room creaked, small moans being heard through the wall. This wasn’t fair, how could you do this to her? How could you bring a girl home, have a rushed introduction between her and Nat, and then disappear into your room where you let her touch you? She was the one meant to do that, she was the one meant to take your innocence and ruin you for anyone else, yet here you were with another.

She wasn’t able to deny the fact that your small moans turned her on, but she could tell they were fake. She could differentiate the silent, hidden sounds you’d let out while calling her name as your fingers slid in and out of you quickly from this. You were most likely imagining her, which was the reason you kicked the girl out only a few moments later.

She shouldn’t be feeling this way, you were her stepdaughter, her wife’s child. But she never truly loved your mom, she was rich and alone and seeking for any sort of love that your mom bombarded her with, she thought that’s what always happened. She thought it was normal to grow sick of your lover, to dread them coming home from work, to deny them constantly of sex and only use it as a way to get off. She never knew true love, and she blamed that on her parents. But she wanted it, she wanted to love that woman so badly, yet over time she realized it wasn’t that she craved her, she craved the person she created.

Her sleepless nights were caused by your lingering voice, the images of you beneath her, and the desire to kiss your plump lips. You constantly were bringing home someone else, and it took everything in her not to rip you away from them and have you for herself. She had self-control, her job required such, but with you it was a different story. She wasn’t able to focus at work, she’d toss the papers across the room and throw her head in her hands. But then you’d arrive.

You begged for a job there, to be her assistant or lower-class worker stating you needed the money desperately. She wasn’t able to deny your pleading eyes or the warm feeling in her chest. You’d bring her lunch oftentimes before, but having you work for her full-time was a dream come true. She would more than likely struggle even more to keep her composure, but she lost all care for that months ago.

The door slammed shut and she assumed your one-night stand finally left, which took long enough. She was planning to rush into your room and finally take what was hers, even standing right in front of the entrance with a fist to the door. Then she heard a small buzzing. The door was cracked open just a tiny bit, she guessed the girl was too lazy to even close a door properly but she couldn’t have been more thankful. She lowered her arm and listened closely, pressing her ear against the hardwood and biting her lip as your moans arrived once again, this time they weren’t forced.

“F-fuck! Mhm, right there, Nat, right there-“ You cut yourself off with a hand covering your mouth, your fear of being heard finally coming to mind. Your stepmother wasn’t pleased, she wanted to hear everything just like Carol got to. At least she thinks her name is Carol, she didn’t care enough to listen or shake the waiting hand earlier.

“‘M gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” Came your muffled scream, your legs starting to shake from the denied orgasms sent your way. Now you were getting release, and the one woman on your mind was Nat, how pathetic. Not only was she your boss, but she was also your mother's wife. She was much too old for you and you both knew that, but that didn’t stop the want in your heart.

“You look so pretty when you cum, little slut.” You nearly jumped out of your bones, rushing to cover yourself but failing to turn off the vibrator, leaving a deadly silence filled with buzzing.

“Don’t cover yourself, baby, I wanna see you.” She stalked forward, cupping her crotch as her thumb ran circles around her clothed tip. She fiddled with her shirt before pulling it off, exposing her black bra and breasts that were aching to be freed. You gulped, trying to look away from the sight in shame but not being able to.

“You’re- you’re gorgeous, Nat.” She blushed at your comment, her knee landing on the bed as she crawled towards you, resting your chin in her fingertips. She leaned closer, her gaze switching between your lips and your eyes as she begged for permission. You took a moment to respond but eventually nodded slowly, causing her to press her mouth against yours in a slow but sensual kiss. Her hands rested your hair behind your ear, her body pulling closer as her cock was now throbbing. If you looked close enough, you could see a small wet stain soaking through her pants, she hoped you didn’t notice. But she also wanted you to, she wanted you to see how much she craved your body against hers.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you.” She confessed, experiencing relief when you smiled, kissing her softly in return. You were already growing addicted to the feeling, wanting to stay in this exact position for the rest of your life. But she wasn’t yours, she was a married woman, a woman married to your mother, at that.

“No-…no, we can’t-“

“Why not?” Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, her eyes ranking over your worried expression as your breathing picked up ever-so-slightly

“You’re married… to my mom. You’re my stepmom!” She shushed you with a finger to your lips, smirking gently as her hot breath fanned over your face.

“Not tonight. Tonight I’m your Mommy, you got that?” You whimpered and it nearly resulted in a moan from the older woman. Hearing you get like this all for her turned her on so greatly, she couldn’t even explain. Your mother was never exciting in the bedroom, or Nat just didn’t like the things she wanted to do. But she found herself wanting to do them with you, she wanted to do anything and everything with you.

“Tell me what I want to hear, angel.” Her hips created a small thrusting motion the harder she got, it was becoming impossible to ignore her needs. You gulped, fighting back tears of shame as you whispered,

“You can be my Mommy, Nat.” She left a peck on your forehead and slowly removed the sheets hiding her prize. Her final destination.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to get a taste of this sweet, sweet pussy.” She didn’t let you even utter a word before spreading your legs and pressing her tongue against your heat. Your hand instantly returned to its original placing over your mouth in order to keep silent. You knew your mother wouldn’t be home for a few more days, but what if that cut short? What if she somehow caught a virus and had to leave early and planned on surprising the two of you? Not only was the fear of being caught roaming freely in the back of your mind but so were your nerves. Nobody had ever truly seen this side of you, where you were beyond ecstatic and touch-starved. Nobody had ever felt you tug desperately on their arm to bring them closer, Nat wasn’t like the others. She was strong with her biceps nearly bulging out of her suit jackets daily. Her kiss was soft, even when she was hungry for a different part of you. You could sense that she truly wanted to taste you and didn’t just do so to get you wet, you were already dripping onto the sheets before she even wrapped her tongue around your pulsing clit.

“So precious,” She muttered, instantly returning to her previous position. She pressed your folded legs against your chest for a better angle, and the moan that left you in return could’ve been considered pornographic. Her tongue briefly slid across your second hole and caused a small thrust from your end, your body yearning for her to repeat.

“Oh, Mommy..” Her moan sent a thrill through your entire being, it seemed to be the only reaction she was able to give you. She was scared to show you her true aspirations. She was scared to have you see the impulses she’d try to stop in worry that you’d run. Truthfully, she wanted nothing more than to claim you as hers but treat you like you were nothing but a toy for her to use. She’d just have to get you attached to her, then you’d comply with anything she said.

Images flashed through her head, ones where you were sat on your knees, her cock trapped deep inside of your throat while her hand held you firmly in place, forcing you to take all of her. She knew you could do it, she had faith in you.

“‘M sorry, baby, I need you too fucking bad.” She reluctantly pulled away from you and patted you softly, leading you to kneel in front of her. She laid in the same position you had been when she guided your mouth to her crotch, your thighs tightening around her head before she continued her previous acts. Her tongue licked stripes up your weeping cunt as you pulsed around nothing, the sobs coming from your mouth being silenced as it was met with her drooling tip. You sucked weakly, the tiredness catching up to you as you gathered the strength to stroke her balls softly. Her hips jutted upward, resulting in a small gag as she fell deeper inside of you. You didn’t stop it, you didn’t even try as you let her do all the work. She was fucking you and guiding you to fuck her. Teaching you how to do everything just like always, just how she liked it. She enjoyed being a leader to you, she found it unbearably arousing to see your eyes looking up at her, asking for help.

You felt your orgasm approaching and tried to warn her, but she could already sense it.

“It’s okay, you can cum all you want.” She seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. The thought worried you, but you didn’t have much time to ponder as you felt your stomach repeating a clenching until you screwed your eyes shut, your vision going blank as you could see stars forming all around you.

She was greedy the moment she got her mouth on you, but now she seemed animalistic. Her hand came to your scalp, forcing you further down on her just like she had envisioned. You had no complaints in mind, choosing to instead swallow the hot liquid oozing out of her. She wished she could see your face right now: makeup ruined, eyes droopy, along with a small grin you wore.

“I wan’ more, Mommy,” She knew she succeeded when those were the words that left your mouth as soon as you were given the privilege to speak. She smirked, her thumb teasing the small hole that lined your ass. She had always found her sight landing on it whenever you’d pass by her, her thoughts seeming to have one more thing to feast on.

“Get on all fours, princess, I want to fuck this tight little hole next.”

[corpsekiller]

𝙖 𝙠𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛 (𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙨) — 𝙙𝙖𝙗𝙞

PAIRING. dabi x genderneutral!reader

WARNINGS. hurt/comfort, fluff, scars, mentions of violence and blood, mentioned murder if you squint

SYNOPSIS. dabi struggles with a strange longing for softness and peace that feels impossible to reach for someone like him. in a tender moment, you offer him a fragile spark of hope and comfort.

LENGTH. 1.987 words

MASTERLIST

For the longest time, Dabi wanted to be soft.

It's strange, craving to be known, to be seen despite the scars littering his body — the desire for someone to strip away the layers of his unbridled rage and wrap their fingers around his very core, dig their nails into the tender flesh until every gruesome feeling he's ever buried in the darkest corner of his mind oozes out like blood from a fresh wound.

And look—

He tried to lose this longing, really. Dabi doesn't remember how many times he found himself wandering through the depths of the night, how many streets he walked down and how many corners he rounded without looking over his shoulder, hoping it would find someone else to haunt — and yet, it always returns like a lost dog.

On most days, it sits idly behind his eyes and watches through a curtain of cerulean blue. Those days are easy for him. They're quiet, almost placid and he barely takes notice of it, this dog he despises with every inch of his frail body until he sinks into the cold mattress he found in another abandoned building and tries to find some peace where none is left for people like him.

Sometimes though, his want lingers on the tip of his tongue and scratches on the inside of his cheeks, tears at the stitches holding his face together until tender flesh bursts open — barking, growling, begging to be let out.

Dabi only swallows harshly, clenches his jaw and grits his teeth until the endless tension turns into a dull ache climbing through his skull and settling behind his temples. The others notice he's quieter on those days, but none of them care enough to ask. He's glad they don't.

It gets worse in spring.

There's a certain kind of grief that comes with the first days of April, a sadness that mourns what could have been and what will never be as the sun breaks through the clouds and kisses his cheeks with a warmth that doesn't quite reach under his skin. Dabi turns his head, pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice humming a familiar tune, and lets his gaze wander to your hands.

Nimble fingers twist the stems of a few flowers you picked and neatly weave them together before plucking another one and adding it to your collection. A cool breeze blows through his hair, tousling the strands that shadow his face even further as if to caress his head and sweep away the dreading feeling of sorrow that has begun to slip between his ribs and settle behind his sternum ever since the days started to get warmer.

His want unfurls in the cavity of his mouth. It paces behind his teeth, claws scraping the inside of his cheeks, whining for release. Dabi only bites his lip, sinks the edge of his canines into the supple flesh until he draws blood and senses the familiar coppery taste on the tip of his tongue.

Nonetheless, his fingers twitch at his sides. It's an unconscious reaction to his want's growling, its restlessness trembling through his chest in violent rattles. He wants to reach out, to test if his hands could hold something as delicate as the crown you're making without crushing it, but he knows better.

This isn't meant for him — not this kind of peace.

The dog snaps at him from inside his own ribs, furious at the refusal, its longing teeth bared against the bars of his will.

He hates it, truly.

And yet, he still wants to be soft so desperately, wants to break himself apart like the flower you hold between your fingers, gently picking at the rose-tinged petals until they descend to the ground and scatter around your legs. You don't seem to notice the agony glinting behind his gaze, don't see the way his hand trembles when he reaches out to caress yours, grazing his fingers over your knuckles almost as if to trade places with the flowers and receive the feeling of your gentle touch instead.

Oh, but that's the problem, isn't it?

This softness he yearns for was never made for his body — like an ill-fitting shirt two sizes too small, it'll burst open at the seams and leave him exposed — every scar, every fracture, every jagged edge laid bare for the world to see.

Truth is, he has always been too hard, too rough, made of nothing but sharp edges meant to cut and violent anger meant to burn everything he touches.

"What's going on in your head?" It's a simple question, a whisper of care that carries away with the wind rustling the branches of the trees above his head. Undisturbed, your fingers continue their work, weaving the stem of each flower into the other one, twisting them into a circle of petals and leaves.

Instead of replying, Dabi lets the silence stretch between you, taut and fragile like a rubber band about to snap, until you finally decide to break it.

"You don't always have to be the fire, you know?" Your eyes leave the task at hand to meet his. There's a tenderness there, a subtle invitation for him to step outside the walls he's built around himself. "You don't have to hurt to feel alive."

A flicker crosses his face, something uncertain and unguarded at the same time — a crack in the mask he usually wears so well, a glimpse of what lies beneath his hatred that passes as quickly as it came. Instead, his gaze drops to the flower crown resting in your lap as if he's regarding the delicacy of each petal and how easy it would be to crush them — oh, how easy it would be to crush you — and lets out a bitter laugh.

"These hands—," he pulls his own back slightly, his scarred fingers curling in as if they could sear anything that gets too close. "You think they’re meant for holding something as soft as this?" Dabi gestures to the flowers with a rough flick of his wrist, but there’s a hollow resignation in his voice. “My hands are covered in blood, they're not meant to hold something gently."

"And yet, they never hurt me," you reply and lean closer, letting your fingers brush against his. The warmth in your touch is oddly comforting, sweet and caring and so undeniably contradictory to everything he embodies that it causes him to flinch, almost as if expecting you to recoil once you realize what kind of abomination he truly is.

You don't.

Instead, you lace your fingers with his. For a moment, you close your eyes and focus on the tension that runs through his tendons and deems it impossible to steady his hands, how he retreats and seems to brace for something that never comes.

You faintly wonder if it's rejection he fears or perhaps even worse, abandonment.

"You don't understand... this is all I've got." Dabi lets out a hollow chuckle, a bitter sound soaked in resentment, and gestures vaguely to his hands where discolored scar tissue meets ivory skin. The very same ones that have left scorched marks across entire cities, across people and across every attempt at kindness he's ever known. "I was made to burn. It’s all I know."

"No." It's a simple reply, two letters holding so much weight that he can feel his shoulders cave in under it, and yet, he can't bring himself to move, can't rip his gaze away from your face as you speak. "You weren’t made to burn. You were just… left in the flames too long."

The dog quiets to a mere whimper.

His chapped lips part, but no sound dares to escape, the trace of his unspoken words lingering on the tip of his tongue. No one has ever said something like that to him. No one has ever cared to see him as more than just a villain — as a product of his cruel past — and the realization stirs a long-forgotten ache in his chest, one he's spent years burying under layers of rage.

"Do you ever think about it?" you ask softly. "Who you might have been… if things were different?"

The question slices through him, raw and jagged. Defeated, he drops his head and allows his eyes to drift back to the flower crown still resting on your lap, the image of your fingers braiding delicate stems together with so much caution as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Sometimes," he admits quietly and pulls his hand out of your grasp, pressing it to his chest, right above his heart. "But it doesn’t matter, does it? None of that matters anymore. Every choice has been ripped from me and all that's left... all that's left is this hollow shell of who I could have been."

"That's not true," you argue softly, reaching up to cradle his cheek and tilt his head to meet his gaze. "You can't change the past, but you can still choose what you could be."

Abruptly, he goes quiet, eyes tracing over your face like he's trying to search for a lie, like he's afraid he'll find nothing more than betrayal etched into the fine lines of your features. "What would I be, then?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, a quiet confession that seems to surprise even himself.

"Someone worth knowing," you reply, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of his white hair behind his pierced ear before placing the flower crown on top of his head. Your fingers trace over the soft curve of his cheekbone, not quite touching him, but hovering over his calloused skin.

For a fleeting second, Dabi tenses under the gentleness, but then he exhales, the tension melting away like frost in the morning sun. His shoulders slump, the weight of years spent bearing his anger and pain easing just a split fraction. As if on instinct, he tilts his head slightly and nuzzles his nose against the open palm of your hand, the flower crown slipping just slightly askew.

Tentatively, eyes flutter shut, and he leans into your touch as though it’s the only anchor in a storm he’s been battling for far too long. His breath hitches, a quiet sound that betrays the fortress of indifference he’s built around himself and despite his movements, the flower crown stays precariously on his head - a stark contrast to the scars and jagged edges that mark his life, and yet, somehow, it feels like it belongs to him.

"Don't," he finally rasps, his voice hoarse but not as sharp as before. "Don’t make me believe there’s anything left worth saving."

You don’t pull away. Instead, your thumb traces the edge of a particularly rough scar on his cheek, your touch soft enough to feel like an unspoken promise.

"I'm not making you believe anything," you reply, steady and unwavering. "I'm just reminding you it’s still your choice. You know, softness isn’t something you take... it's something you learn."

His lips twitch as though he wants to say something more, to argue, to fight, but instead, Dabi stays quiet. His hand, calloused and hesitant, brushes over yours where it rests against his face, holding it there as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

For the first time, there’s no fire in his eyes — no rage, no resentment, no bitterness. Just a flicker of something raw and unsure, a spark of hope too fragile to name.

"It doesn't suit me,” he finally mutters, his tone almost self-conscious as his fingers ghost over the edge of the flower crown. “But… maybe I'll keep it. Just for now."

Maybe he can't be soft anymore, but he can be kind, he decides.

That's more than enough.

Taglist: @justwolosers @jaerang @dabislittlemouse

[admiringlove]

falling stars. the sixth part of @angstober is here! i really loved writing this one, ugh. anyways, happy reading <3 masterlist of the event can be found here.

being immortal was both a blessing and a curse.

zhongli had always been the god of contracts. it was the essence of his existence, a purpose etched into the very marrow of his being. he wasn’t always the composed, reserved man who carried the weight of centuries with quiet dignity, his gaze heavy with the nostalgia of eras long past. no, once, he had been sharp and unyielding—a man who lived and breathed duty. his loyalty to liyue was unshakable. liyue came first. always.

duty was his creed, his unwavering religion. the god of stone and earth, as immovable as the mountains he shaped. whenever his focus wavered, that mantra echoed in his mind: liyue comes first. duty comes first. it was an unrelenting rhythm that kept his soul in check.

but then, somehow, you happened.

you were the anomaly, the gentle rain that smoothed his jagged edges. he never quite understood how you slipped past the walls he’d spent millennia building. the god of contracts, once as steadfast as the stone he commanded, found himself softened—worn down not by time but by your presence. you were like the tide, subtle yet persistent, shaping him with a patience he didn’t know could exist. his rigid mountains melted into quiet hills, his soul drenched in the warmth of your laughter, the soft glow of fireworks, and a nostalgia he had never allowed himself to feel.

and now, for the first time, zhongli questioned where duty ended and where you began. you weren’t just a fleeting moment in his never-ending timeline. no, you were something far greater. you held his entire existence in your hands, like magic woven into your fingertips. you weren’t just his past—you were his present, his future, everything all at once.

and he hates that he’s slowly forgetting you. hates that he's still here, living, while it’s been eons since he last heard your voice, since the scent of you clung to his memory.

your scent. it was the first to fade, slipping through his grasp as the years stretched on. he remembers fragments—how you always smelled of the river, like the waters of qingce village clung to you. you loved the water, always said it felt like home. he’d once joked that you should have been born in fontaine, where the tides ruled, but you loved him long before you knew who he truly was.

you loved your god, and your devotion to rex lapis was so pure, so sacred, that it unsettled even him. most revered him with fear, with trembling awe, but you—no, you loved him as effortlessly as breathing. it's how he'd found you, standing before his statue, lighting incense in the stillness of prayer. he approached as zhongli, hands behind his back, watching as you offered your quiet supplications.

"did you know he's the eldest of the seven?" he murmured, his gaze lifting to the likeness of himself carved in stone. there was something serene in your posture, a calmness that baffled him. most would pray with reverence or dread, but you. you smiled softly as you waved the incense in the air, placing it at the statue’s base.

"everyone knows he's the eldest," you replied, casting him a sideways glance, "but most people don’t realize that barbatos is the second eldest."

zhongli blinked, a flicker of surprise playing at his lips. it was true—his old friend, the carefree anemo god, was the second oldest, though few knew this because of barbatos’ lighthearted demeanor.

"you seem well-versed in the ways of the gods," he remarked, curiosity piqued as he watched you. you chuckled, the sound light and warm. "my father’s a priest. i suppose that’s why. but i think rex lapis is different from the others."

zhongli’s interest deepened. he tilted his head. "how so?"

"you’ll laugh if i tell you," you teased, a grin tugging at your lips before you looked back at the statue, "but i think he’s a romantic. being the eldest must come with so much responsibility. i imagine he’s tired, weary from the weight of it all. from all of us."

zhongli frowned, something in your words striking a strange chord within him. "but that is his duty, is it not?" he asked, his brow furrowing, unsettled by the way your insight crawled beneath his skin.

you simply shook your head, smiling to yourself. "duty and purpose don’t always align, you know. rex lapis is a magnificent god, strong and wise. but i like to think he’s also present in the small moments, like an old friend. sometimes, i talk to him about my day."

zhongli’s gaze sharpened, a mix of amusement and suspicion in his eyes. "do you now?" he asked, voice low. "then perhaps he’s listening."

"if only," you laughed softly, the sound like wind brushing through leaves. "gods are mysterious creatures. i doubt they have the time to listen to a priest’s child ramble on about their mundane life."

if only you had known how closely he listened, how deeply your words had taken root within him, like seeds planted in the fertile soil of his heart. you were like water—gentle yet unyielding—flowing into the spaces between his thoughts, shaping him without him even realizing. after that day, you became something he could never quite shake, lingering like the soft glow of a lantern after dark—an ever-present warmth, like coming home after centuries spent wandering.

he finds you again, unexpectedly, sitting alone by the harbor in liyue city. there’s a heaviness to your expression, your brow furrowed as your eyes gaze out at the endless stretch of the sea, as if seeking solace in its waves. the wind tugs at your hair, carrying the salt of the ocean in the air, and you sigh—a quiet, resigned sound that makes something tighten in his chest. he watches you for a moment longer before making his way toward you.

"it’s you," he murmurs, his voice soft as the breeze, "from qingce village."

your head lifts slowly, and at first, your gaze holds no recognition, dulled by the weight of your troubles. but then, your eyes widen, lighting up with sudden relief. "you! by rex lapis, am i glad to see you."

his amber eyes, with their distinct diamond-shaped pupils, flicker in surprise. he hadn’t expected that reaction. you press on, your words tumbling out with a mixture of frustration and desperation. "this city is impossible. my father sent me here to assist a doctor with medicinal herbs, but i’m completely lost. and not one statue of morax inside the city! not one! where am i supposed to go every morning to pray?"

a small chuckle escapes him, low and warm, and he tilts his head slightly. "that is true. the nearest statue is just beyond the city’s borders, but it can be a dangerous journey. perhaps... you could join me for tea each morning instead. madame ping brews the finest oolong, and we often sit together in the high grounds before i start my day. you might even find your doctor there."

"really?" your face lights up, like the skies of liyue igniting during lantern rite, a spark of hope rekindled in your eyes. "you’d do that for me? include me in your routine, even though you barely know me?"

he smiles softly, settling onto the bench beside you. "you’re fond of rex lapis, aren’t you? so is madame ping. and so am i. i believe you’d make for good company."

"that’s... incredibly kind of you," you murmur, fingers loosening their tight grip on the straps of your bag, a hint of vulnerability slipping into your voice. "i never got your name, though."

he turns to face you, his gaze steady, the sunlight catching the red liner beneath his amber eyes, making them glow with a soft, almost ethereal light. "zhongli," he replies, watching you carefully, as though gauging your reaction.

you take in a slow breath, your eyes widening slightly as you look at him, something shifting in the air between you, fragile and significant all at once. "you know," you say, your voice a little softer now, "zhongli, you have a very familiar face."

he chuckles, the sound deep and rich, vibrating through the quiet of the harbor. "do i, now?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone. "i’ll take that as a compliment."

and so, the friendship between you and, unbeknownst to you, rex lapis began. you spoke of him in the way a devout follower might speak of their deity, yet with a warmth, a familiarity, that zhongli couldn’t quite grasp. it was as if, in your heart, rex lapis was not a distant god ruling from on high, but a cherished friend; someone you could confide in without fear. and that comforted him in a way nothing else had. for once, someone revered him not out of awe or terror, but out of love. someone placed rex lapis on a pedestal for reasons beyond his power, beyond his duty. simply because they cared for him, deeply, genuinely.

perhaps that was why fate had woven your paths together. to teach him that he was more than his role, more than the weight of his eternal duty. to remind him that his purpose did not need to be solely bound to protecting liyue until the end of time. there could be more—there was more.

"i don’t think i can love anyone as much as i love the god of geo," you once confessed, after finally mastering the confusing streets of liyue harbor. the two of you were descending the stone steps after your usual morning tea with auntie ping—though now, you had grown fond enough of her to call her that. zhongli’s brow raised at your words, his steps slowing to match your pace, for you were always a little slower, always taking your time. "what do you mean by that?"

"i don’t know," you sighed, your gaze flickering to the distant horizon, "i have this... strange relationship with rex lapis. i love him. i idolize him. i think of him as an old friend, someone i can share my burdens with. but i also feel that... if someone were to love me, it would be hard for me to return the same intensity. i think it would pale in comparison to the way i love him." your voice trailed off, quieter, more uncertain. "it’s strange. like i said, a strange feeling to have. i don’t even know why i’m telling you this."

zhongli’s eyes softened as he watched you, his lips curving into a gentle, knowing smile. "i believe the word you’re searching for is sacred," he said quietly.

you blinked, surprised by his response, and for a brief moment, you narrowed your eyes at him as if trying to figure something out. because that familiar feeling tugged at you again—like a jigsaw falling into place, though you couldn’t quite see the whole picture yet. the way he smiled at you, the way he seemed to understand. it made your heart skip, just a little.

and, without realizing it, you began to favor a certain funeral parlor consultant over the god you once idolized.

he made you smile wider than you ever had, more than you ever did for rex lapis. zhongli had quietly woven himself into the fabric of your life, so seamlessly that it left you baffled, wondering when it all began. your days started to revolve around him—sometimes even your nights. he would tell you stories of liyue’s ancient history as if he had witnessed every moment himself, painting vivid pictures of a time long past. it left you in awe, admiring him more with every tale, until the realization struck like a wave crashing against the shore.

you had come to love zhongli more than rex lapis.

the thought gripped you with quiet terror. the way his eyes would crinkle with a knowing smile, the way his soft chuckles echoed in the silence after you mentioned your god—it all made your heart stumble, beat after beat. he was hiding something, you knew it. and it wasn’t just you who noticed. even auntie ping, with her ageless wisdom, seemed in on the secret. zhongli had once called her an old friend, but just how old, you couldn’t quite tell.

"how did you meet auntie ping?" you asked one evening, crossing the bridge near the funeral parlor, heading towards dinner. he paused, a flicker of hesitation passing through his amber eyes. "i don’t quite remember anymore," he said quietly, "we’ve simply been friends for a very long time. there was another once, but... she’s gone now. her name was guizhong."

"was she beautiful?" the question left your lips before you could stop yourself. "was she clever?"

his soft laugh carried through the evening air. "immensely," he said, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "we miss her, every now and then."

"did she..." your voice faltered as you stopped in your tracks. "did she pass away?"

he nodded, a touch of sadness lingering in his expression before he resumed walking. you remained rooted in place, pieces of a larger puzzle scattering through your mind. but it was as if your thoughts grew foggy whenever you were near him—like familiarity slipping through your fingers, just beyond reach. zhongli glanced back at you, tilting his head ever so slightly. "aren’t you coming?"

you murmured a soft “yes” and quickened your steps to catch up, brushing away the weight of your thoughts. "how did morax befriend cloud retainer?" you asked, steering the conversation back to familiar ground. he seemed to know so much more about your god than even your father, things lost to time.

and with every answer he gave, you found yourself more bewildered than before.

your curiosity always brought a quiet joy to zhongli, a chance for him to indulge in your questions, your wonder. at first, he thought nothing of it, simply an opportunity to share the knowledge he had gathered over centuries. but slowly, he found himself captivated, drawn to you in ways that puzzled even him. he started accompanying you outside the city, watching you in silence as you lit incense and knelt before the statue of rex lapis. but today, something was different. your expression had shifted, lips set in a thin, guilty line. like a river running cold, your posture stiffened as if weighed by an unspoken burden.

"is something troubling you?" his voice was gentle, though there was a faint edge of concern as he watched you stare up at the stone likeness of the god. you blinked, shaken from your daze, shaking your head with a quiet denial. but zhongli had known you long enough to see through the facade. "you’re different today. while you pray."

your throat tightened, words tangling within you. how could you admit that the man beside you, the one you’d come to know for mere months, had taken up more space in your heart than the god you had worshipped all your life? it was a storm within you, like water crashing through the valleys of your soul, eroding the bedrock of belief you had built.

"i can’t tell you," you murmured, turning your back to him. "this is between me and rex lapis."

"am i not your friend?" his voice was soft, almost too soft. "am i not as close to you as rex lapis is?"

he faltered then, realizing the weight of his words. what had he just revealed? he hoped the slip of his tongue wouldn’t shatter the delicate line he had walked all this time. you were clever—more clever than anyone he’d known—but perhaps your heart would refuse to see the truth.

yet why had he even said it? he was rex lapis, wasn’t he? so why did it matter that zhongli, the mortal, had become more important to you than the god? why did he feel envy, for his own self?

"you are not him," you whispered, a note of disturbance in your voice. "you are mortal. he is my god."

"he is your friend," zhongli replied quietly, searching your face, "and so am i. if something troubles you, something that disturbs your prayer, why not tell me? i don’t want to see you unhappy like this."

"i can’t," you insisted, your shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. "why don’t you understand-"

"but why not?"

"because i’m in love with you!" the words bursted from you, raw and trembling in the space between you both. your voice did not crack with tears, but the defeat in your eyes spoke of an agony deeper than tears could show. "and you’ve taken up more space in my life than my god. and that... that breaks me."

the confession hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, as if the world itself had stilled in the wake of your words.

"oh," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "i am sorry."

he watched as your face twisted in thought, a realization settling behind your eyes, something heavy and final. "i know," you murmured, turning away, your voice distant. "we should head back into the city before it gets dark."

"wait, i must tell you-"

"no, zhongli." you shook your head, your defeat palpable. "i know you don’t feel the same. it’s alright. i shouldn’t feel this way either. i’m supposed to love him more."

"but i do feel the same," he said, his voice suddenly firm, cutting through your words with a softness that startled you. "i feel the same, so why shouldn’t you?"

your mind went blank. his words left you utterly speechless, like the world had tipped sideways. you blinked up at him, confusion written across your furrowed brows, eyes glassy as you struggled to make sense of what he had just said. it felt almost sacrilegious. zhongli stepped closer, his hand finding your shoulder with the familiarity of an old friend. "it is why i want to spend every moment of my life with you. why i want you to stay by my side until my last breath. is that not fair?"

you stared at him, blinking rapidly, fighting back tears that threatened to spill. how could this be real? how could the man who had become your constant, your guide, feel the same way you did? he spoke again, his voice steady and warm, as though wrapping you in a promise. "if you love morax so much, then let’s draw a contract between us. that you will love me with the same intensity as you love him. and in return, i’ll help you love him more. i will tell you stories about him, i will show you more of liyue harbor, i will take you to the temples, and pray alongside you until your last breath—if that is what keeps you content."

his words washed over you like a tide, a promise carved from stone and time. you felt the weight of it, the gravity of his offer. this man, this mortal, who had unknowingly become the center of your world, was offering himself wholly to you—not in opposition to the god you revered, but alongside him, like two halves of the same whole. it was a contract, a binding of hearts, one that felt as sacred as the prayers you had once whispered at the foot of the statue.

and so another chapter of zhongli’s infinitely long life began. but you were not infinite—you were fleeting, a moment in time that would fade. you aged like the finest wines of mondstadt, while he remained the same: tall, revered, handsome. your hair greyed, lines formed at the corners of your eyes, and soon, you grew older than auntie ping. and then, just like that, you were gone.

the scent of you vanished with the passing breeze, the smell of the rivers from qingce village where you grew up, the fragrance of old history books you lovingly stored, cleaned, and kept in your home. all of it—gone.

but zhongli remembers. he remembers every lantern rite spent by your side, watching the fireworks burst in the sky, but always, always watching you instead. the way your eyes lit up in awe at the colors that painted the night sky—he treasures it more than any celebration. and even after you were gone, liyue continued to bustle, unchanged. and zhongli stayed the same.

he lived on, because immortality was both a blessing and a curse. every year, he would stand on the high grounds, watching the fireworks bloom in the heavens with a weight in his chest that only grew heavier with time. and every year, he thought of you—your boundless curiosity, your devotion that never wavered.

he remembers the day he found your letter, tucked away like a relic, jagged edges and all. the curiosity that once led you to him now led him to unfold that paper with trembling hands. your words were simple, but they cut deep.

you had told him to live a long life—how ironic. as if he could do anything but. to eat well, as if you were still there, cooking for him each morning and night. to drink tea with ping, because you knew the weight of his loneliness. and you told him you loved him, as if he didn't already know, as if he couldn’t feel it in the way you breathed life into everything around you.

and then, what struck him most, what lingered in the back of his mind even after centuries passed, was how you signed it.

"thank you for everything, rex lapis. i leave you with love."

it was the last thing he had from you, and yet it was more than enough to keep your memory alive—because in the end, you had known. you had always known.

in his long life, he had done countless great things, and shall do countless more still. as they say: the waters change course, but the mountains move not.

so zhongli continues to live. carrying your love with him like an echo in his heart, as eternal as he was.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[corseque]

I wanted to make a last-minute prediction post based on what I’ve seen so far. I haven’t looked at new Dragon Age news for the past couple (3? 4?) weeks, and I know I’m (on purpose to avoid spoilers) missing some (probably a lot of) details that other people already know. I DON’T WANT TO KNOW. So if I’m already right or wrong about something,

PLEASE please DON’T TELL ME.

You can come back in a month and tell me THEN. It’s just one more month to wait.

Also, this is just for fun, and it’s not serious. It’s based on vibes and also based on what I would write myself. I have developed a surprisingly specific image of what might happen to Solas and I’m just want to write it down.

I’m thinking “there is no possible way this is right………” but then I’m like “unless…..?” so a vague chance of potential spoilers

First, I’ve been suspicious about the elven gods getting free and Solas being trapped. If you think about what Solas says in Trespasser, it’s very

Part of Solas’ aim that has so far been revealed to us is he likely wants the Veil torn down, and one of the only things that is keeping him from that is the reality of the elven gods trapped in there, who would be released.

Inquisitor: “If you destroyed the Veil, wouldn’t the false gods be freed?”

Solas: “I had plans.”

But that is no longer a concern from that moment in the gameplay trailer where they are released. 

“I intend to restore them. Doing so will most likely destroy your world.”

Two elven gods rampaging across Thedas sounds like the kind of “the world is being destroyed” situation Solas was talking about. It is his incision that breached their prison, and it isn’t impossible that Rook may have been almost manipulated into completing it. I wonder if Solas is playing his two sets of enemies against each other yet again?

In the old tales, Solas uses his enemies to fight each other while he is tied to a tree, trapped. He gives both sides equal advice until they are both defeated, at which point he frees himself and finishes what he set out to do. 

Honestly, even though he’s “trapped,” it sounds exactly like the sort of thing that needs to happen for his work to continue.

(All of this is speculation that I think I’ll have a better idea about once I hear the full first conversation with him, and exactly how he words his point of view of what happened. If he’s very squirrelly in his wording, I’ll know he may have caused it on purpose.)

“I seek regeneration,” he said in Vows & Vengeance. The devs had said that Solas has been bringing back magic for centuries before the series even started. Perhaps it explains why the dragons have returned. It seems that his reshaping the world, regenerating it, will be successful because it seems to be moving steadily without him. So maybe this is a last and, once in motion, inevitable step in “healing” the injured world.

I think that the elven gods are very scary and world-ending, but Solas is the only one of them that reshaped the world successfully. He will be the one to do it again, not Ghilan’nain or Elgar’nan or any other god. He is a trickster his, and Tricksters are the Gods of Inevitable (otherwise catastrophic) Change.

One of the greatest criticisms of Inquisition was the lack of screen time Corypheus had. And how the climax fell flat at the end because he didn’t have enough screen time. This leads me to believe that Solas may be the “Last Boss” of DA4. Because we definitely HAVE a complicated satisfying personal relationship with him that has been set up for two whole games.

So the ending for Solas needs to do a lot of things:

“These are the times in which legends are born or slain” Solas as the Dread Wolf will die

It needs to work for both people who love and hate Solas

In order to defeat the Elven Gods, Rook has to find their weakness, which is Solas’ weakness too (maybe a fatal flaw, or how they can be truly killed) so it can be used on Solas too. Perhaps this will involve Solas trying to obscure this from Rook as best as he can

Solas fully is on Rook’s side against the evanuris, but when they’re taken care of, he doesn’t need to team up anymore

I don’t believe that you will be able to stop Solas’ plans, and I hope that they will change Thgedas’ world no matter what. I hope it’s just a fact of life that the Veil comes down

The story basically needs to involve Solas betraying Rook again, because new players need to experience that feeling in order to be in the same place with him as they were in DA3

It needs to give players a torn situation about him, one that makes you feel he’s reasonable but at the same time make it satisfying to fight him. So I believe this is why he will betray the player again, even if he is getting along with them.

I believe there needs to be a boss fight against Solas because he does have a cool big monster form and people have been promised to be able to kill him

It needs to be satisfying for those who romanced him too, but it also needs to be beautifully sad because part of the draw of the romance compared to all the others in the series is that it’s beautifully sad

For that reason, I suspect (not because I particularly want this to happen, I’m just saying what I see most likely) is that fighting and killing Solas may not actually be optional, and he is killed in every worldstate. This way, everyone gets a last boss fight and everyone experiences pretty much the same story without much branching 

I think the difference between friendly and unfriendly version may be whether he is brought back to life by the efforts of those who care about him after he is killed

So basically:

Veil comes down/magic comes back

Solas helps Rook take down evanuris

Solas betrays Rook when it seems the story should be over

Boss fight with Solas as the Dread Wolf (see: my Tulpa Theory)

Solas is defeated and killed

Story ends there if Solas is hated, (story about Rook getting revenge)

If Solas is loved, Solas is brought back and rebirthed in another freer form through a spirit ritual, perhaps as Wisdom, but some part of it is bittersweet like Rose and Doctor 10 (story about regret).

But basically, no matter how Solas and Lavellan’s story ends, their love enduring will be the path to joy, or them being together. Rook can kill Solas and Lavellan can bring him back. Even if it has to just happen off-screen or in fanfic.

I think it is very likely that Solas kills Varric or another character as a way to transition from passive threat to active threat. Or maybe Rook is responsible because of the theme of regret, idk. But I think we’ll get a great cathartic end for Varric probably.

I think we may have to choose between Varric and the Inquisitor, because it’s similar to the Hawke-Alistair choice

I would be very surprised if the story ended with Solas and Lavellan went off into the sunset together in a perfectly happy ending with nothing bittersweet. But sadly, I don’t really see this happening and I think bittersweet may be the name of the game.

Other things I predict:

We can assume that the Inquisitor will have an optional death scenario when they reappear, where we choose either to let them sacrifice themselves in some way, or save them. So perhaps there is an ending where Solas and Lavellan die together and can be free as spirits, which would also be bittersweet.

I don’t really have predictions for anything but Solas, so the big lore reveals might change the situation so much that none of this applies or makes sense anymore. In which case I will probably be HAVING FUN.

I am not EXPECTING any of this to happen, I am just writing it down and posting it in case I’m right. Anyway please wait until I’m done playing to tell me if I’m right or wrong, and this is just for fun, I wouldn’t mind if the whole game was completely different.

[i-care-4u]

Heyyy, was wondering if you could do a request but for central cee anything that makes you comfortable! 💕

NICE TO MEET YOU | CENTRAL CEE

PAIR: CENTRAL CEE X SINGER!READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

you looked around at your teammates as you planned your next move. "any other artists in mind?" you inquired, seeking new inspiration for your latest endeavor. eli, one of the producers for your album, checked his list before asking, "what about central cee? that will sound unique."

"of all people, you decided to pick central cee?"

"i'll tell you what y/n. the list i have and those past studio sessions are just the demos. this isn't official yet."

you stood there in quiet, the mere mention of central cee's name eliciting a slew of mixed feelings. while you acknowledged his artistry, you couldn't get beyond your dislike for his music.

the dislike started when you were scrolling on tiktok. a video popped up with the background music being central cee’s rapping over a sample of an indie song that you listened a lot during your teenage years. immediately, you rolled your eyes, mouthing to yourself. “now why would he do this to an already perfect song?”

but while the thought of collaboration lingered in the air, you recognized that the most difficult partnerships might produce the most unexpected benefits. so, with a hesitant nod, you agreed to investigate the possibilities.

"i'll do it. but if it sounds shitty, just know it won't make it to the album, based on my terms."

-

ONE WEEK LATER, STUDIO SESSION

the studio was a sound sanctuary, a haven of creativity and tension. as you took your seat, the weight of prior conflicts with central cee hung in the air, casting a shadow across the entire room. despite your disagreements, you were all determined to make this collaboration a success. eli looked between you and central cee with a hopeful but cautious gaze. "okay, let's get started. cee, you go first."

central cee nodded, his gaze steady as he approached the microphone. as the pace slowed, his voice filled the room, each word brimming with passion and fire. regardless of your feelings about his music, there's no denying the strength of his delivery. "that was great. we'll come back in a couple of minutes." you noticed central cee lean back in his chair, a cocky smirk spreading over his lips. "not bad, huh?"

you bristled at his demeanor, years of hostility coming to the surface. "it could use some work," you muttered under your breath, unable to conceal the harshness in your tone. central cee's eyes narrowed, and a frown crossed his lips. "and what would you know about it?"

the words hung between you, filled with unsaid tension. however, before things could deteriorate, eli intervened, his voice calm but stern. "hey, let's focus on creating this song. we're all here to make something that'll get the audience moving, remember?"

"alright," cee mumbled, his voice rough yet reluctantly obedient. as the session resumed, you found yourself sliding into a rhythm of collaboration, with each moment of dread eclipsed by the common goal of acclaim. ideas flowed freely as you and central cee collaborated to make the tune genuinely remarkable.

by the end of the session, the studio was buzzing with activity, demonstrating the power of collaboration and compromise. as you listened to the mix, you were filled with pride, knowing that you and central cee had overcome your differences to produce something truly spectacular. this was only the first step.

before he left, central cee caught you off guard with a surprising question. "hey, uh, y/n," he said tentatively. "i was wondering if you'd be up for grabbing a coffee or something sometime?" you blinked, surprised by the unexpected invitation. despite the tension you had caused in the session, his sincerity was endearing. after a few period, you nodded, unable to deny the tug of intrigue on your insides. "fine," you said, your tone more sour than you intended.

"tomorrow afternoon?"

"that would be great."

-

A DAY LATER, THE CAFE

the next day, you found yourself sitting across from central cee in a modest cafe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee flowing over the air. despite the remaining anxiety, your cautious smiles expressed a genuine sense of amazement and enthusiasm. "so, uh, thanks for agreeing to meet up," central cee said, his voice uncertain but genuine. you nodded and took a sip of coffee to hide the nervous flutter in your stomach. "okay, no thank you, cee. i figured it couldn't hurt to get to know each other better."

"oakley."

"oakley?" you raised an eyebrow.

"you know, you don't have to call me by my stage name in these scenarios."

as the afternoon went on, you couldn't help but notice the unexpected bond that had grown between you and oakley. despite the tough start, you developed a strong bond and mutual respect.

"so what was up with you in that session yesterday? you seemed pissed."

oakley's question hung in the air, and you paused, wondering how to respond. memories of heat that had simmered between you during the session surfaced, each one a painful reminder of the boundaries that had divided you.

"i guess i just wasn't sure what to expect," you explained, your tone cautious. "i had my doubts about how well we'd work together, given our... differences in genres."

oakley nodded seriously and sat back in his chair. "i get that. it is tough to work with someone that is outside your circle." his words were somber, expressing a shared understanding of the problems that lay ahead. there was a sense of understanding and acceptance that alleviated the tension between you. "otherwise, i believe we made some progress," oakley stated with a confident tone.

"i believe so. i just wanted to apologize about earlier. i came in harsh, but it's since i care about my craft, a lot. therefore, that makes me too protective."

oakley smiled, a real smile that filled his eyes. "i understand it. and, to be honest, i enjoy the aura you give off. i prefer my girl mean." you laughed together, and the tension between you subsided. "well, lucky for you, i can be pretty mean when i need to be."

-

TWO DAYS LATER, SECOND STUDIO SESSION + ALBUM ANNOUNCEMENT

eli watched with delight and astonishment as the two of you developed songs that blended your distinct styles into something very unique. the pieces you created showcased the power of teamwork, combining your melodic sensibilities with oakley's raw, poetic energy.

oakley looked to you with a thoughtful expression. "i never expected us to bond like this. but you've encouraged me to think differently about my music, and i believe it's helping me become a better artist."

"at this point, forget the critics," you laughed.

although you were known as a "pop darling" to critics, you knew it was going to happen every time. as the album neared completion, the excitement around your collaboration grew. fans and reviewers alike were eager to learn the conclusion of the unexpected partnership, and the enthusiasm only fueled your ambition to create something memorable.

you and oakley stood side by side, smiling with pride and enthusiasm as you listened to the finished mix.

"i guess this is it, the final product," you looked oakley with delight, "so what do you say next week?"

"for the song to be out?" oakley asked.

you nod, "mhm."

"that sounds great."

as the first track was released and feedback flooded in, it became evident that your partnership was a huge success. it began gaining traction on tiktok and instagram, where eventually it started climbing up to the billboard hot 100 chart, peaking at #2.

the music attracted audiences in ways you never expected, and the odd collaboration, which began with doubt and effort, grew into something truly incredible.

[ljubimaya]

– A LITTLE DEATH

SYNOPSIS: Wounded after a gang fight, Baji finds comfort in you in more than one way.

C/W: aged up characters (Baji and reader are 20+ years old), mentions of death (no one dies, though), fem! reader, friends to lovers, confessions, mentions of wounds and bruises and the treatment of such, reader and Baji teasing each other, a little angst with tons of comfort, fingering, p in v, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (keep it wrapped), soft sex, slow burn bc I yapped too much, pet names (pretty girl baby), lmk if I missed smth ♡

A/N: This took me seven months and three rewrites :,)) me writing soft sex with Kei is 100% self-indulgent and lowkey selfshipcoded btw

W/C: 9k+ words (I told you I yapped too hard, I'm sorry, it will happen again)

1 A.M. and you didn’t sleep. You weren't even tired, not after receiving the text from your best friend. 

“I’ll be at yours in a while” was all Baji sent you. You received his message when you were just getting ready for bed, after you took a nice hot shower and put on your freshly washed pajamas. All hopes of a peaceful, quiet night shattered the moment you opened the chat and read his text. 

That was at 10 P.M. the previous day. You’ve been sitting on your couch for three hours now and couldn’t get a grip on your idiotic best friend. Calls wouldn’t go through, messages would remain unanswered, and you didn’t even have the numbers of his other, equally idiotic friends so they could forward your message to Baji. Not that you would actually even reach out to them, despite being your friend’s friends, you were still deeply terrified of most of them. 

Worry took over at 11 P.M. when he didn’t show up like he promised he would and panicked, when you couldn’t even reach him by midnight, and once 1 A.M. rolled around, you found yourself trying to rationalize him not showing up. Maybe he’s asleep in his bed? Maybe he’s still out with his friends? Maybe he’s lying dead in a ditch?

Dread truly was the best alternative to caffeine, you couldn’t even think of going back to bed until you knew he was alive and breathing. 

So you sat on your couch, wrapped in your fuzzy blanket and sipping on your herbal tea to calm your nerves. The tea itself didn’t seem to help calm your anxiety at all, but you found that if you didn’t hold the warm cup, you'd reach out to grab your phone and start bombarding him with calls and texts. The little faith you had in him told you you would have enough time to give him an earful once he shows up. If he shows up…

A light knock brought you back to reality. You didn’t expect anyone except for Baji, so you felt safe to open the door. You didn’t know what it was, a logical conclusion that it could only be him, the hope you held in your heart that it was him, or an inner knowing. Whichever it may have been, you were right. 

Upon opening your front door, you were greeted with none other than the first division captain himself. Although alive and breathing, Baji looked exhausted. Cuts littered his handsome face, bloody knuckles clutched to his stomach, and his tired eyes told you everything you needed to know. He needed to get patched up. 

“Not asleep?” he asked in his deep raspy voice. His deep baritone usually makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, but hearing the tiredness out of his voice, you couldn’t bring yourself to swoon over him. At least not yet. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you answered “No. Couldn’t fall asleep when you texted me you’d come over. Although, I didn’t think I’d have to wait three hours” You laughed dryly. 

Baji frowned. He knew he arrived way later than he had promised you, and to his credit he would have arrived earlier if it were up to him. 

Usually, he would have been rough to anyone who gives him even the slightest bit of sass. He’d beat them back to their place and make sure they would choose their tone more carefully around him, but you weren’t just anyone to him. You know his temper, you have been victim to it on numerous occasions now, but he never dared to treat you like one of his underlings. Baji was never rough to you, tried avoiding becoming loud or calling you names except for the occasional “stupid”, “nerd”, or “brat”, which he knew wouldn’t offend you. 

“I know I said I’d arrive earlier, but you know how things are with the gang. One moment we’re having a normal meeting, the next we’re fighting some weak ass rival gang”

“You guys won?” you asked as you let the wild man enter your home. He grinned proudly as he settled down on your couch, still careful not to hurt himself further. 

“You know it. No gang can stand a chance against us” 

You rolled your eyes at him, chuckling as he boasted about his victory against the rival gang. 

“They had more members than Toman does” Baji grumbled as he watched you bring out the first aid kit “The nerve of them to attack us. No name gang, heard about them only once during another conflict with another rival gang”

“The one from last month?” You asked, taking out the bandages and alcohol wipes. This wasn’t the first time Baji had asked you to patch him up after a gang fight, it became a recurring thing when you befriended the hot headed gangster. You would always look forward to seeing him after a gang fight, it was almost therapeutic to take care of his wounds while he rambled about anything and everything. Given your busy schedules, both of you living completely different lives, and thus having a hard time making plans to meet up, him coming over after a gang fight felt more like catching up with him rather than a chore to you. 

“Yeah, those fucking bastards” Baji confirmed while he undid the buttons of his Toman uniform. Carefully, he took off the piece of clothing and put it right next to your first aid kit on the coffee table. You glared at him as he did that. 

“You did not just out your dirty shirt on my clean coffee table”

“Oh jeez, stop it. You sound like my mom” He teased, his hand soon grasping the article of clothing. “May I throw it on the floor, mom?” Baji taunted you as soon as he removed his shirt from your coffee table. Chuckling at his teasing, you retorted “Careful, or else I’ll ground you for a week. You can kiss your little gangster friends goodbye”

The ravenette groaned at your quick witted response “Thank God I’m a grown man. Thank God you’re not my mom” You took the shirt from his grasp, your fingers brushing against his rough ones for a short moment. 

“I can wash it for you. It looks really dirty, and I don’t want you to wear a dirty shirt when I’m done cleaning your wounds” 

Baji’s face softens when you suggest washing his shirt for him “You really don’t have to. I don’t mean to trouble you any more than I have to-”

“Nonsense” You cut him off as you stood up and started to walk towards your bathroom “I’ll throw it into the washing machine while I’ll take a look at your wounds. It’s not like I’m going to wash it with my hands”

Baji stared at you as you began to retreat from him “You want me to leave shirtless?”

“No. You can sleep over tonight” You hummed. While bold, you knew that you wouldn’t let him leave in the dead of the night, especially with his injuries. The prospect of Baji staying for the night makes your blood rush towards your cheeks. Trying to conceal your sudden shyness, you turned around from him, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell just how flustered you were. 

No matter how late Baji would visit, he wouldn’t stay over too long. This would be a first if he agreed to sleep over. You were almost certain he would disagree with you, tell you not to worry too much about him, that he didn’t need to sleep over, but you were willing to fight him over it. 

Baji scoffed “You really don’t have to. I don’t want to inconvenience you more than I already am. You’ve stayed awake for so long to take care of my bruises, you really don’t have to wash my clothes now too, or let me stay over. Besides” He stopped for a moment, studying the way you’ve turned away from him “You got work. I’m not a child you have to take care off”

“I understand that you’re an adult and can do whatever you please” You mustered up all the courage to turn around and face him “Let me care for you. I don’t want you to get infections, and I sure as hell don’t want you to walk home alone in your state. I know you can handle getting punched or kicked or thrown, but”  I can’t handle it. You halted. Heart beating against your ribcage furiously, you felt the blood rush to your face. If I don’t calm down now, I’ll end up crying.

So you took a deep breath, trying to get a hold on your bubbling emotions “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. You’re staying, and that’s final” Without letting him react, you walked off to your bathroom. 

You quickly returned with a big bowl filled with water once you’ve thrown his article of clothing into the washing machine. The walk back into the living room was filled with dread. Knowing how hot headed he can be, he should be pissed. He should be angry at you, he should tell you to back off and let him do whatever he wants. You were already mentally preparing yourself to argue and reason with him, but upon your return, you didn’t see a glaring, angry man. 

Baji sat silently on the couch, waiting for you to come back. No traces of anger graced his face, no clenching fists, he didn’t even talk when you approached him

You sat down next to him. Although the silence was awkward, it helped you focus on tending to his wounds. His naked torso was littered with small bruises. You were able to make out small cuts, but they were predominantly on his hands. No open wounds except his bloodied knuckles. Mentally taking notes on his physical condition, you made a treatment plan. Deciding his knuckles needed immediate attention, you carefully took his hand into yours. Baji let you take his hand without any sort of resistance, instead, he watched you clean the surrounding area of the wounds on his fingers and knuckles before carefully dabbing the alcohol infused cotton. Before, you rinsed his open wounds with cool water to get out any rubble that could be inside. A low hiss escaped Baji’s lips once you lightly pressed the in alcohol soaked cotton. Usually, he’d tell you to be more careful, but this time he doesn’t say a word. 

“I know it hurts” you muttered in an apologetic tone as you carefully dab the cotton on the wound, trying to get him to talk to you “I’ll try to be more careful”

Moments passed and he still didn’t make attempts to reply back. You continued cleaning his and dressing his knuckles and hands; and while it felt like an eternity without hearing Baji’s deep voice rambling about the gang or his personal life, you were finished tending to his hands much faster than it usually took you. 

One look at the bruises on his torso, and you knew they needed to be cooled, especially the big and dark bruise on his stomach. Suddenly, you remembered the way Baji was clutching his stomach. 

“What happened here?” You asked him, your fingers lightly grazing his rock hard abs absentmindedly. Baji groaned and gritted his teeth as you touched the bruise. Quickly realizing that he was in pain, you retreated your fingers from the hurting area. Mentally cursing at yourself for being so careless, you opened your mouth to utter an apology, but Baji was quicker. 

“Got hit by a metal pipe” Baji told you, a scowl adorning his face as he sat up straighter “That bastard swung at me out of nowhere. Didn’t even see him coming, was too busy punching some other fuckers”

“I’m so sorry”

Baji snorted at your apology as he finally looked at you, his eyes locking with yours for the first time since you demanded he stayed over. “‘s nothing you have to apologize for. You weren’t there, hell, I wouldn’t want you to be at a gang fight” He grinned teasingly at you, the awkward silence from before having completely vanished “The streets aren’t for you”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him and laugh “What? Are you calling me soft or something?”

“Maybe. Won’t call you tough either” He chuckled as he watched you reach over to grab the cotton again. 

“Lift up your head. I still need to disinfect the small scratches on your face, Mister Tough” You hummed as you took his face into your hands, taking a better look at the small cuts that littered his face. However, your attention slipped into other directions as you kept on looking at him. Suddenly, you weren’t looking at his small wounds, but rather, you were looking at his plump lips. Then his pointy nose, his bushy eyebrows, and soon, your gaze fell upon his eyes. 

Earthy brown irises looked back into yours, and you swore you saw them glint in the low light of your living room. You felt weak, your heart fluttering as you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He has drawn you in with one single look of his eyes, and you swore you would drown in them like they were quicksand. Or maybe you would burn in the molten bronze of his eyes? Whatever it may be, all power left your body as soon as your eyes locked with his. You had no energy to look away; you had no energy and you certainly didn’t have the desire to. 

“That's not cleaning my wounds” a wolfish grin appeared on his lips, obviously amused by the sight of you flinching and tensing up when he caught you staring at him for far too long. 

Blood rushed to your face, you felt so embarrassed and humiliated at his teasing smirks. Oh that bastard…

“Well, I can't clean them when I haven't assessed them properly” you shot back, proud of your quick-witted response. Still, you couldn’t help but look away, the fluttering feeling inside your stomach growing more intense the longer his gaze remained on your form. Your face is turned away from him, your eyes averted to the floor when you felt his half bandaged hands reach towards your face, cupping it in a warm embrace. 

The teasing smirk having disappeared, Baji’s face has softened. His thumb lightly grazed your cheek when he turned you to face him, and just like that you locked eyes with him again. 

“Hey” he whispered in a tender tone, still stroking your cheek with his thumb “You ok?”

You leaned into his touch instinctively, eyes closing as you welcomed his warmth, basking in the comfort it provides. 

“I’m not the one that got hurt” you muttered “I am however incredibly…..” you took a deep breath as your voice falters. You felt the urge to double down on your words and tell him that everything was fine and that you were just overreacting and tired, but you couldn’t bear holding your tongue anymore. 

“I am incredibly worried about you”

Just like that, Pandora’s Box opened. The unsettling feeling you had right before he arrived returned and despite his warm hands holding your face, his face appeared to you so much paler than he usually was. 

Baji raised his eyebrow at your concerns, his thumb still caressing your cheek while he remained silent. You took his silence as a go ahead to explain your worry for him. 

“I know you are a grown man, and that you can do whatever you want. I can’t force you to do anything, and you know that you would never ask you to change anything about yourself” The words tumbled out of your mouth. Your heart pounded against your ribcage furiously, cold sweat coated your body and you felt your vision blurred. Yet, no tears rolled down your cheeks, you held them back as much as you could. There was no way you would break down in front of him like that. So you mustered up all the strength you had to calm your breathing before you continued.

“But I worry. I worry that there will be a day in which I’ll have to wake up to find out you’re lying in the hospital. I worry that one day I’ll wake up to find out you’re missing. And worst of all, I fear the day that you won’t return to me after a fight” 

You didn’t even finish talking and tears were already rolling down your face. Despite initially not wanting to cry in front of him, you felt as if a burden was being lifted from you. Baji listened silently to your distraught ramble. His hands never left your face, holding it so delicately as if you would crumble into pieces if he let go. 

“Promise me, Keisuke. Promise me that I won’t have to wake up in cold sweat from nightmares about losing you. Promise me I won’t have to stay awake all night long and wonder about your safety. Promise me you’ll always find your way back to me”

A shaky breath left your lips; you stared deeply into his eyes as you pleaded with him. You couldn’t take your gaze away from him, your eyes bored deeply into his, silently seeking for an answer to your emotionally charged demands. 

Finally, Baji broke his silence. 

“You know I can’t promise you any of that” He muttered. Baji firmly held your eye contact while his hands slowly retreated from your face “I can’t make such promises to you when I know just how unpredictable gang fights are” 

This wasn’t what you were expecting, nor the answer you wanted to hear from him. Your heart squeezed at his honest answer and his sudden retreat. Crushed, you too made an effort to distance yourself from him, but when you were about to stand up and excuse yourself, you felt his hands on yours. The ravenette guided your hands towards his face, making you hold his face. 

“I didn't know you were so worried about me. I never meant to inconvenience you in any way-”

“That's not what I'm complaining about!” You snapped back at him, not believing what you were hearing from him. 

“You're not inconveniencing me in any way. I look forward to seeing you. I wanna hear you ramble about your tights, your gang members, your colleagues - anything, really. I just hate seeing you hurt” 

Baji looked deeply into your eyes, and for a second you thought you would get swept up by his beautiful brown irises until you heard his usually gruff voice speaking to you in an unusually soft tone. A tone only reserved for you.

“Hey, look at me. I know it might sound harsh, but you gotta understand that I’m not making any promises to you that I know I won’t be able to keep. I wish I was able to say it with my full chest and promise that nothing will happen to me, but that’s not how life works” 

His reasoning seemed plausible, and yet, your heart sank as Baji tried to reason with you. Something inside you yearned for more, you needed to hear something from him, or else you knew you would never be able to sleep peacefully at night. 

“Keisuke” you whispered tenderly as you held his face gently, his hands still pressing against the back of your hands, keeping them in place. It was a firm grip, a grip that told you that he wanted to be held, and yet nothing about his touch seemed rough and forceful.

“I understand what you’re trying to tell me. I understand that some things are out of your reach, but this does nothing to calm my racing thoughts. I won’t be able to think of anything else but your safety when I know you’re out there. I know it sounds selfish of me to demand it, but for the sake of my own sanity, I need some reassurance of you” 

Baji's eyes never left your while you spoke. His eyebrow furrowed as his mind worked out a reasonable enough deal for you, a promise that would give you a peace of mind and that he would be able to fulfill. Eventually, his grip on your hands loosened. While no longer pressed against his own face, he held your hands tenderly. 

“I get that, I really do. While I can’t promise you that I will stay safe all the time, I can promise you that I will be more careful. I can promise you to be more mindful of my surroundings and I can promise you that I won’t run head first into fights” 

This seemed to be all the reassurance that you needed from him. A soft smile graced your face as you heard his proposal as relief washed over you. It may have not been what you wanted to hear, but it surely was better than no promise from him at all. 

“I’ll take it” a breathless whisper escaped through your lips. Baji broke his gaze from yours, only for his eyes to land on your hands holding his. You followed suit and looked at your intertwined fingers. You haven’t even realized that your fingers have laced with his. Was it when he made his promise to you to be more careful, or did you intertwine your fingers with his absentmindedly when you accepted the promise? Perhaps, it was him who took initiative and laced his fingers with yours?

Blood rushed to your cheeks when Baji gave your interlocked hand a gentle squeeze. 

“You should be careful” You muttered “Don’t move your fingers too much, they’re still wounded”

“I know, but I couldn’t resist” Baji grinned as you shyly averted your gaze from him, trying to pay no mind to his teasing.

“But I will be much more careful from now on. Gotta at least try and stay alive if someone cares about me that much” He mused, his deep honeyed voice making you feel butterflies in your stomach. Usually, you would try and hide the way he made you feel. You’d grin back at him and tease him back. On a different day, you would have told him off, but after the rollercoaster of emotions you have gone through, you didn’t want to bite back at him. 

“Yeah, you better” huffing, you carefully disentangled your fingers from his “I do care for you. Immensely, actually” You added in a quiet, soft tone before reaching to grab the antiseptic ointment. 

“Careful, this might burn a bit”

Baji’s smirk has softened. Intently, he watched your face as you worked to disinfect his wounds. A low hum escaped his lips as your skillful fingers ghosted over his face applying the antiseptic ointment. While he felt a slight burning sensation, Baji enjoyed the tender touches. 

“I know you care. You care so much you even ordered me to stay over and washed my shirt” 

Heat rose to your cheeks upon hearing Baji’s teasing remark. You were hoping he wouldn’t bring it back up, but one glance to Baji’s eyes, free of resentment and bitterness, told you that he wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable. Yet, you remained silent, not knowing what to reply back, or rather, too embarrassed to say anything back to the ravenette. 

“I know I’m an ass sometimes. I’m impulsive, loud; I have a sharp tongue and I like weaponizing it, but I can’t even begin to explain how grateful I am that you care for someone like me” 

“Yeah” You chuckled while carefully cleaning a wound on his cheek, your heart skipping a beat when you caught the tender look in his eyes “You might be an ass, but you are my favorite ass”

Baji hummed at your reply “Yeah? That makes me feel so special”

Sighing, you put the cotton away “You know” you started, your voice carrying a nervous tone as you tried to articulate your thoughts “I’m sorry for trying to boss you around. Of course you don’t have to stay over. I could look inside my closet if I have a baggy shirt I could lend to you to walk home in-”

“No, I’m staying”

The firmness of Baji’s voice caught you off guard. Skeptical, you raised an eyebrow at your injured friend “You really don’t have to. I don’t wanna force you to stay here”

“Yeah I know, but I want to stay. I want to stay over, because I know you want me to stay. I don’t wanna worry you much more than I already have”  

You let out a groan as you heard Baji out, frustrated at the guilty face he made “Hey, I don’t want you to think that you are a burden to me in any shape or form. I have no right to make you stay if you don’t want to, you are not obligated to stay over just because I threw a temper tantrum earlier”

“I get that” Baji watched as you sat down next to him after putting all the utensils back into the first aid kit “But I understand where you’re coming from. I know I would be furious at you if you were hurt and refused help from me. I know I would chain you to bed so you wouldn’t wander off and get hurt again” 

“Baji-”

“It’s Keisuke” He rolled his eyes at your slip up, unable to hide his frustrations with you any longer “Listen, I do owe it to you to stay. If staying over is what will bring you peace of mind, I’ll stay. I care that you care for me so much”

And that was all the reassurance you needed from him. Baji went out of his way to make sure you wouldn’t worry too much about him; the way that he understood your anxiety regarding his health and wellbeing and tried to ease your mind made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Thank you” You muttered while you leaned your head against his shoulder.

“No, thank you. Thank you for always being there for me” Baji whispered back, his hand soon finding its way to your hair. A satisfied hum escaped your lips when you felt him play with your hair.

“You don’t have to thank me. Caring for you comes naturally to me. It’s like a fish swimming, or a bird flying. I love caring for you” I love you.

“And I love that you care for me so much. Makes me feel really special” Baji said when his fingers played with your hair, careful not to tug too hard on your strands of hair.

“You already said that” You chuckled at him “You already said that me caring for you makes you feel special. Although” You moved your head to look at him, a teasing giggle leaving your lips “I don’t quite understand what I do to make you feel  so ‘special’ though”

Baji’s lips quirk into a grin as he turns his head as well and looks you deep in your eyes. And just like that, you were a prisoner of his earthy brown eyes. It’s as if the ground moved beneath your feet and swallowed you whole. The low light in your living room gave him an ethereal glow, and to you, he looked like the most perfect person.

“Hmm, it’s many things you do actually. You deal with my bullshit, like cleaning my wounds way past midnight. You laugh at my corny jokes, you cook from me from time to time” He chuckles “Although, your cooking skills are kinda lacking”

You scoffed at his teasing “I know I’m never going to be a Michelin star cook, but you always eat everything I make for you”

“I know. I would eat anything your golden hands would make” Baji hummed, leaning in closer to you. 

“You know, I love it when you look at me like this” He mumbles as his breath fanning over your lips. Your stomach was in knots, the proximity between you and him made you feel so damn dizzy. A tiny voice inside your head begged you to lean closer to him, to finally taste his lips like you’ve always wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to bridge the distance. The rational - and perhaps shy - side won pretty quickly, so instead of making any moves on him, you hoped he would kiss you.

“How do I look at you?”, you asked in a whisper, daring him to finally say what you have waited for for so long: A hint on how he truly saw you. 

Baji’s hand reached to hold your face, no longer playing with your hair “Like I mean the world to you” He purred, his voice smooth like satin “You look at me as if I hung the stars and the moon. As if there is no one but me in the room”

“But there is no one besides you” You exclaimed, unable to stop yourself. Like a dam with cracks, you were bound to spill your feelings to him, and no force would hold back the flood. 

“And you do mean the world to me. To me, you might as well have hung the stars and the moon” you breathed shakily. You haven’t said it directly, yet you already felt like you have spilled your guts out to him “You are so incredibly important to me”

“I know, and I hope you know that I care for you just as much” Baji leans in closer, his nose touching yours “In fact, I think I might care about you than you do” He muses, his eyes never leaving yours. 

You felt as if you were on fire. It might have been the need to know if your best friend returned your feelings or not, it might have been the adrenaline you felt from feeling so close to him, perhaps you wanted to tease him back or it might have been a combination of all of the above, but you promptly challenged him “So you must love me then”

Baji’s other hand, the one that wasn’t already touching your cheek, gently cupped your face and leaned in closer to you, his lips ghosting over yours “I do” Baji mumbles, drunk of your smell and hungry to taste your lips “I love you” he breathes out before gently capturing your lips with his. 

Time seemed to slow down when his lips collided with yours. You were hoping for a hint, a clue on how he feels for you, so getting a confession and a kiss from the man you have loved for the longest time made you feel emotional. 

You wasted no time and returned the kiss eagerly, lips molding over his softly. Closing your eyes and moving your arms to carefully wrap themselves around his neck, Baji responded by turning his body towards you. His hands soon found their way towards your waist, his fingers softly gripping onto you. He didn’t want to let you go, he didn’t want to pull away or or even shift into a more comfortable position; not when he was busy summarizing every little detail of your lips. From the softness, to the taste, to the shiver he felt running down his spine when you moved your lips against his, he wanted everything engraved in his brain for the rest of his life. 

Breathlessly, you pulled away from Baji. You were mentally cursing out your body’s need for air when your soul craved to melt with his. A deep hum escaped his lips when he leaned his forehead against yours.

“I take it you like me back” Baji mumbled as he looked you deeply in your eyes. Despite it sounding like he was stating a fact, you couldn’t unhear the slightly questioning understone. You chuckled and brought your hand to his cheek, gently cupping it while your other hand remained on his neck.

“I don’t just like you” You muttered as you stole a quick peck from his lips “I love you too”

Baji let out a satisfied groan upon feeling your lips on his again “Then kiss me properly” He didn’t even waste a second and crashed his lips with yours, unable to wait for a reply back from you. While the first kiss was sweet and slow, this kiss felt raw and urgent. You felt so shy feeling his passion, but who were you to turn down a steamy kiss from Baji Keisuke?

So without thinking too much, you returned his kiss with fervor. Addicted to your lips, Baji would soon pull on your hips, his strong grip making you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Come sit on my lap, pretty girl” Baji whispered against your lips “Come on, sit on my lap” He demanded in a deep, sultry voice when he felt your hesitancy. Heat crept up your face and you looked away from his handsome face. His cheeks were tinted in a lovely red, the thin sheen of sweat made him look like he was sparkling in the dim light of your living room. 

“Hey” Baji tenderly held your chin and turned your face to look at him. You could still see the fire of passion in his half lidded eyes, but there was also restraint “Am I going too fast for you?” He asked before he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“No, it’s not that. I just feel a little….shy” You whispered the last part. If Baji didn’t have such a firm grip on your chin, you would have tried to look away and hide your flustered face. 

“Shy?” Baji mused, a smirk creeping up on his lips “What you gotta be shy for? We confessed to each other, didn’t we?” 

“I know, but it’s just so sudden. My brain has barely registered that you like me”

“Nuh-huh, I didn’t say that I like you. I said I love you” Baji corrected, chuckling “But don’t worry, I can go slower if you’d like that. I just want you to feel comfortable around me”

That seemed to do the trick for you; despite still feeling flustered, a rush of excitement spread over your body and overpowered your initial shyness. Who would have thought that Baji ensuring you that your comfort coming first would turn you on so damn much?

Feeling bold, you eyed his toned torso. You didn’t know if it was weird or not, but you liked looking at the bruises on his body; seeing his naked upper body littered in cuts and bruises just made you feel so hot. 

“You could never make me feel uncomfortable” you whispered when you shifted closer to him, lips grazing over the now purple spot on his chest. 

Baji groaned when he felt you kiss his wound, feeling both pain and pleasure from your tender kisses. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He growled as he felt your lips travel lower and lower, kissing each and every bruise and cut.

“I’m kissing them better” You replied back, humming as the taste of his sweat hit your tongue. You looked up from him, still kissing your way over to the very last wound, the one right on his pelvis. 

A guttural growl rumbles from his chest as he took in the view in front of him: The woman he loved so much - desired for the longest time - kissing along his torso. Baji’s pants felt so tight when he saw the longing, lust filled gaze you looked at him from beneath him. Baji just wanted to lay you on the couch, rip your clothes off your body and make you his, but he knew that wasn’t the way he wanted to fuck you for the first time. He wanted to be soft and loving, worship every inch of your body and show you just how much you meant to him. 

So he placed his hand on your head, stopping from going any lower “Lay down pretty. Let me make you feel real good” 

You felt so weak to your knees when you heard his deep and husky voice, dripping with lust and hunger. The way he looked at you, eyes half lidded and full of love, made you feel so incredibly hot and bothered. Trembling, you obeyed and got up from your sitting position and laid down on the couch, impatiently awaiting his next move. 

He laid on top of you, caging you between his strong arms. You were surrounded by him - his arms holding you in place, his toned body laying on top of you, his strong musk, his bulge pressed against your thigh…You felt so delirious when you breathed in his scent, smelling a mix of cologne, shampoo and sweat. 

“Pretty” Baji breathed out when he leaned in closer to you. His breath fanned over your face as his lips kept an agonizing distance. So close, but not nearly close enough to still the intense fire of desire that burned within you. Garnering all the confidence that you could gather, you cupped his face and kissed him - a kiss he was all too eager to return. And when his tongue mingled its way inside your mouth, you put up no fight to deny him entrance; instead parting your lips so his wet muscle could explore your mouth. 

You were too engrossed with the kiss, busy remembering the taste of his lips to notice him repositioning himself. Before, his arms caged your frame, making it impossible for you to get out of what’s to come. Now, Baji shifted so he was being supported by just one arm, while his now free hand allowed him to explore other parts. 

Your eyes shot wide open when you felt his fingers lightly graze your naked thigh. Baji’s light, almost shy touches send waves of anticipation to your pussy. Even though you wanted him to trail his calloused fingers upwards along your thigh to your throbbing clit, even though you wanted to feel him pushing his digits inside your pussy, you knew that he wouldn’t do any of that unless you give him the go ahead. 

Baji felt your growing hesitancy and pulled away from the kiss. Open mouthed, the raven haired man pushed himself away from your lips, only a string of saliva connecting your lips to his before it broke. Labored breaths left his lips as he watched you lay underneath him, his hand still on your thigh.

“What’s wrong?” His voice smooth and deep like fine wine, he asked. His eyes never left your face, trying to figure out your thoughts and his next actions. You chew on your lips as you were confronted with two possibilities: slow down or tell him exactly what you want from him. Somehow, the decision didn’t seem so hard to make. 

So you held his gaze and smiled as your hands took hold of his belt.

“Nothing” You whispered, unbuckling his belt as you felt his fingers still caressing your thigh “You don’t have to worry about me. I want this, I want you.”

“Yeah?” The seriousness in his face melts into a light grin. Baji*s lips met your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin as his fingers inch closer to your pajama shorts “How badly do you want me?”

You let out a content hum “I’d say I want you almost as badly as you want me”

The man let out a snort as he heard your bold claim. Still, he didn’t stop his gentle assault on your neck “Ah, I doubt it.” Baji murmured, his fingers finally having hooked under the waistband of the pajama shorts before he tugged them down “Baby, that’s a hell of an assumption you’re making. I don’t want you” Baji let out a ragged breath as he finally pulled your shorts down “I need you”

Baji’s skilled fingers immediately traced your outer lips in a slow, teasing way before he dipped one finger inside your pussy.

“Look at you, you’re soaked” Baji grinned as he pushed his finger deeper inside, placing tender kisses on your cheek “Tell me when it gets too much, yeah?” 

Softly pumping his finger in and out, Baji was careful to be slow and gentle with you. The man was in no rush, so he took his time riling you up. A fortunate graze against your velvety walls left you moaning and shuddering, letting Baji know he’s found the spot he was looking for. 

“Feels good, baby?” your lover asked lowly, eyes trained on your face to detect any signs of discomfort. However, to his delight, he didn’t see any at all: instead his eyes were graced with you, sweaty, panting and eyes half lidded, and fuck does he feel get himself harder by just looking at your lust drunken state.

“Hng, never felt this good” you managed to whimper out. A satisfied chuckle left Baji’s lips.

“Yeah? Gonna make you feel so so good” The usually rough man leaned closer and began to gently kiss and bite the shell of your ear “I’m gonna have to add another finger. Gotta stretch you out nicely for me. You ok with that, right?”

Your pussy fluttered at the thought of getting stretched out by him. So you nodded your head and begged him to add more fingers “Yes, please. Wanna feel more of you” you whimpered as you felt his second finger, his middle finger, ease inside your fluttering hole. Once fully inside, Baji didn’t waste time,switching between curling and pumping his digits. 

Your pussy swallowed his fingers. If it was with anyone else, you’d feel sheer embarrassment from the squelching sounds and your arousal practically coating his whole hand, his leg and the blanket under you, but you didn’t. Not with your beloved Baji, the only man that could make you forget shame and focus on feeling good.

His free hand sneaked under your pajama shirt, playing with your erect nipple while his fingers worked you towards your orgasm. Your moans were music to his ears, but the way you eagerly sucked his digits in made him wanna hear the sounds you’d make when you’re cumming. While he was still knuckle deep inside, Baji’s thumb began drawing tight circles on your throbbing clit. 

Your moans grew more frantic, the pleasure overwhelming all of your senses. Buckling your hips into his hand, you chased after your orgasm. And before you knew it, the coil inside your tummy bursted, sending waves of pleasure all across your body. A strangled moan left your lips as your orgasm washed over you. 

After he’s helped you come down from your high, Baji pulled his fingers out of your still twitching hole with a satisfied grin on his lips. 

“Felt good?”

“Felt amazing” You hummed, watching him as he licked his fingers clean, groaning at the taste “Do I taste that good?” 

“Mhhh, why don’t you see for yourself?” 

With that, Baji crashed his lips against yours. You didn’t resist when you felt his tongue on your bottom lip, allowing him entrance. His tongue explored every corner of your mouth, allowing you to taste your own juices. Baji’s hand moved away from your nipple, instead grabbing onto the hem of your shirt. The ravenette pulled away from the kiss. Your head was spinning from the lack of air but you missed his lips on yours already. 

You understood what he wanted and pulled your pajama shirt over your head and threw it away, not caring where it landed as long as he was still on top of you. Baji’s eyes drank in the sight of you, bare and needy for him. Calloused hands gently kneaded your moundsas he placed a hot kiss on your lips.

“‘s that all for me?”Baji groaned against your lips “Gosh, you’re so damn pretty, you know that?”

“I wouldn’t mind if you’d tell me so more often” chuckling, you returned the yearning kiss, moaning softly from his touch.

“Yeah? I’m gonna tell you every day” Baji’s kissed your neck downwards “gonna remind you every day how perfect you are for me” 

His lips soon found your bare breasts, sucking and biting on your soft flesh. Baji carefully cupped your tits in his big hands before his mouth latched onto one of your nipples. Desire pooled between your thighs again. You wanted him, and you wanted him now. 

A small giggle left your lips. Your fingers combed his silky black hair away from his face, tucking his locks against his ears “I’m perfect for you? And they say love is dead”

You felt him gently bite your sensitive bud, grazing the hardened bud with his sharp canines before he let go. “In every way possible, yes. You are perfect for me” Baji mumbled against your chest. 

Your heart fluttered at his declaration. Somehow, this rough, impulsive man managed to make you putty in his hands. And you knew you were in it too deep because you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your hands sneaked away from his hair, traveling between your hot bodies and stopping at his pants. His bulge was still firmly pressed against your thigh and you wanted to free his dick from its confines. 

“Can I?” You asked sweetly, fingers gripping his belt, waiting for Baji to give the green light. Of course he would allow you. 

Baji lifted his head from your chest, a cheeky smirk on his lips as he heard your request “I don’t know” He mused “Can you?” and before you could pout or tell him off, he quickly added “Go ahead. Been waiting too long to have you already”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Swiftly, you undid his belt and tugged his pants and underwear lower. Baji helped you in getting rid of his remaining clothes. The ravenette readjusted his position and lifted himself up before discarding pants and shorts to a random corner of your living room. 

Finally, no barriers, no layers between you and him. You wanted to feel him, badly.  Not being able to think properly, your hand wandered lower, tracing along his abs to his pelvis before you firmly took hold of his dick. Baji shuddered at your touch. Your fingertips barely touched as you wrapped your hand around his girthy cock. The stretch is gonna be deliciously painful. Your mouth watered at the thought of it. 

Deep moans bubbled out of the ravenette’s lips, his eyes pressed shut at the feeling of your hand pumping him. Your hand stroked him with vigor, touching his cock from base to his leaking tip. God, you wished you could lick up all of his precum, but you knew there would be another time for sucking him off. Right now, playing with his pretty red tip and smearing his pre all over his tip would have to do.

However, he didn’t let you stroke him for too long “Baby, I’m not gonna last long if you keep on stroking me like that” Baji groaned “Wanna fuck you nice and slow” The raven haired man nestled his face into your neck, kissing the bite marks he gave you earlier.

“That is, if you let me” he moaned lightly as your hand stopped stroking him, retreating as he had requested “You sure you wanna do this?” your lover inquired. Despite his genuine concern, you saw the spark of desire in his brown, half lidded eyes, ready to be unleashed. You firmly nodded your head, unwilling to deny him or yourself of the intimacy the two of you craved for so long. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you, here and right now” 

That was all he needed. Baji wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock and slowly guided the tip inside your clenching hole. Moans and whimpers bounced off the walls of your living room as Baji slowly pushed his throbbing cock inside you. The stretch was overwhelming your senses; tears formed on your lower lash both from pain and pleasure. 

Your lover stopped pushing himself inside you, instead his hand wiped away the single tear that escaped your eyes. 

“You ok?” the raven haired man asked in a soft and worried tone. Your vision was blurry from the tears, but you could perfectly envision his furrowed brows and the concerned look in his eyes. Wiping away the tears, your predictions proved to be right. You knew him well, after all. 

“‘m ok, it’s just a lot” Baji caressed your warm cheek and you leaned into it instinctively “You can move now. I don’t want you to stop until you’re fully inside”

The tension left his face as soon as you gave him the go ahead. Baji’s hand never left your face while he pushed every inch inside your pussy, caressing it lightly and soothing you. How sweet of him. 

Once he bottomed out, Baji waited until you’ve adjusted to his size. He didn’t have a reputation of being patient, and although your walls clung to his dick so deliciously it drove him wild, Baji didn’t dare move until he knew it was fine for him to move. Oh the things he does for love.

You on the other hand weren’t feeling patient. You tried moving your hips against his but failed miserably when you didn’t feel the friction you were hoping for. Amused by your desperation, Baji watched your attempts at humping his cock with a wolfish grin. 

“And here I thought I was being a gentleman for being patient” He laughed heartily “That’s not gonna get you off baby. Lay back and let me make you feel real good, alright?” 

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, relaxing underneath him and letting him take control “You know, that does sound nice” your sentence got cut short by the sudden snap of his hips. Baji set a slow, comfortable pace. Not too fast to overwhelm you too soon, but also not too slow to bore you. Perfect for love making. 

Your moans and his grunts along with the soft squeaking noises of the couch bounced off the walls of your living room. His sweat drenched body collided with yours over and over again, his cockhead occasionally hitting your g-spot. He’d feel the way you’d clench harder around him, the way your eyes would roll back and the louder whimpers leaving your lips when he’d hit the right spots. Baji was a very perceptive man, paying close attention to the movements that would entice such reactions and recreating them. 

He angles his dick, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Baji’s efforts paid off, the sweet moans growing more frantic and your velvety walls clenching around his dick so deliciously were his rewards. 

“You know, you look so damn pretty all worked up” Baji mused, giving your lips a yearning peck “But I need to see how pretty you look when you cum on my cock” With that, your lover supported his weight with only one arm while the other relaxed, hand sneaking between your bodies and playing with your overstimulated clit. 

You felt a tight knot building up in your stomach as Baji continued to fuck into you. His pace picked up, his fingers not leaving your clit until you’d come undone for him. All thoughts have left your head and you weren’t able to form a coherent sentence at this point. You felt so overwhelmed; the way he sunk himself inside you at the perfect angle to hit your g-spot with his cockhead, the way his fingers drew tight circles on your sensitive puffy bud, the way his body pressed against yours, the way his face contorted in pleasure, the way that despite him chasing after his release Baji made it a priority to make you cum too, the way your name left his lips like a prayer. It made the tight knot burst.

You cried out his name as you came undone on his dick, just like he wanted you to. You arched your back as the wave of pleasure washed over you, legs shaking at how hard you came. 

Baji couldn’t get enough of your fucked out face. His fingers stopped their assault on your spent clit, instead gripping your hip lightly. His movements stuttered, his own orgasm building up. Your walls clenched around him so tightly, begging to be filled up with his cum. With one last strong thrust, Baji emptied himself inside of you, feeling the warm embrace of your velvety walls milking him dry for all he’s worth. 

Your lover collapsed on top of you, spent from the physical and emotional release. Baji buried his face into the crook of your neck and kissed your tender skin while your fingers raked through his long raven hair. 

“I love you so damn much” He mumbled in between kisses “And I love being able to tell you that I love you. I love that you’re officially mine”

Warmth rushed to your cheeks at his admission of love. Despite laying naked under him, hearing Baji say that he loves you never fails to make you feel like you were on fire. 

You chuckled, feeling butterflies in your stomach “Officially yours? When did you ask me?”

A deep chuckle rumbled through him as you teased him “Don’t be like that. You didn’t mind when you were screaming out my name not even 10 minutes ago” Baji lifted his face from your neck, a sly smirk adorning his handsome features “You’re mine, and I’m yours” he ended with a sweet kiss on your lips. You held his face and kissed him back, feeling warmth spread all over your body as he stated his claim over you. 

The ravenette pulled away from the kiss and gently caressed your cheek “You know, I was also absolutely right about you looking beautiful when you come all over me” You wanted to scoff and tease him, but the soft, adoring look in his eyes made you reconsider. No traces of teasing. Baji really meant it. 

Instead, you collected yourself and asked “So, you said you’ll stay over, right?” The way you’ve said it sounded so soft to him, he too didn’t have the heart to tease you for the remainder of the night. 

“Mhm, gonna stay the night” Baji placed a small kiss on your forehead “Come, I’ll carry you to your bed”

[beneathashadytree]

HUNGOVER - VINSMOKE SANJI X READER

Warnings : Sanji’s self-image issues, hangover, passing out, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff <33

Additional notes : This is part 2 to a fic I posted 2 years ago (crazy, I know) called Intoxicated, so I recommend reading that first! Inspiration suddenly hit me ig🙏🏽 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

It was at times like these that Sanji cursed his entire being—most especially his body, for having gotten so used to waking up at a set time every day. Because here he was, with a pounding headache that threatened to split his head in half and squash his brain into a mush, and yet he was still unable to sleep in for more than 4 hours.

Delaying the inevitable, he tried his best to keep his eyes shut, even if just for a little while. Dread filled him at the thought that opening them would send lancinating pain shooting through his eyes and the back of his head, and that was an issue he did not want to deal with now.

Especially not after colossally mortifying himself like that last night. Actually, he’d much rather forget it all together. Maybe completely wipe the memory from his head.

Much of the second half of the night was a booze-induced haze, flashing images swirling behind his eyes like they’re floating in water, and he couldn’t bring himself to try and remember the rest of it. After all, why would he want to think about how he embarrassed himself in front of the one person he yearned for more than life itself?

Baring his heart like only an idiot would, skinning himself alive and prostrating himself in front of them without a single ounce of the dignity he’d tried so hard to preserve for ages… he truly was a lost cause.

“Putain,” Sanji swore under his breath, even his raspy voice sounding grating to his ears, and he buried his head further into—

—his jacket?

All inhibitions instantly cast aside, his head shot up from where it was, and he was hit with the surging pain of an unbearable crick in his neck. Eyes flying open and completely ignoring the sting of the light, it was only then that he realized that he hadn’t, in fact, stumbled his drunken way back to bed after his whole blurted confession and tumbled face first into dreamland.

No. In reality, he’d actually just slept an uncomfortable few hours on the kitchen table, his head just barely hanging on after being supported only by his crumpled jacket.

Shit. The kitchen.

It was at that moment he came to the sudden realization that the thrumming headache wasn’t only caused by him waking up, but also from the loud banging of another person in his kitchen pulling out his precious pots and pans.

It must be well past morning. Everyone was probably ridiculously hungry by now.

It took all he had for him to stop himself from snapping at whoever it was that decided to step up (and also make a wreck out of his sacred space and possessions) for only that reason. In his desire to drown himself in his sorrowful miseries, he’d completely neglected his duty as a chef. If not to sustain his crewmates and friends, what use was he outside of battle?

Nothing, he thought to himself, blearily blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he began to turn around with a sigh, not looking forward to the confrontation that was to come, nothing at all—

“There you are, darling,” came a soft voice from behind him, barely above a whisper. A blooming warmth rushed to his cheeks, and he almost toppled out of the chair as he recognized just who it was that was saying those saccharine words.

It couldn’t be. There was no way he he’d be so blessed by the angels first thing in the morning.

And yet. And yet.

Here they were, in all their fresh-faced, tender-hearted glory, leaning down to gently stroke his cheek with a deft thumb. If Sanji let slip a broken whimper of half-relief, half-agony, they made no comment on it. “You’re hungover, then?”

With his mouth feeling like it was filled with cotton wool, no words could come out, and he instead just nodded his head weakly. Thankfully, that too they let slide. “I got Chopper to help out with that.” They pushed a cup with an odd liquid and two pills towards him. “Should help.”

For a couple of seconds as Sanji downed them and sent a silent prayer to whoever decided to let Chopper have the lack of common sense to join their crew, they turned around, probably on their way back to the stove that now sizzled and emitted the lovely smell of caramelized onions and garlic—and if his nose wasn’t betraying him, simmering in some balsamic vinegar and soy sauce—that he had memorized long ago. But after a moments’ hesitation, they walked up to him once again, sliding his jacket out from underneath him and carefully folding it.

“You should go to your quarters and get a proper sleep in. I’ve got it from here.” With that sweet smile of theirs that threatened to send his heart into overdrive, they began to usher him out. “When you’re up again, I’ll reheat your food for you. You don’t look so ready to eat now.”

If he was looking as green as he felt, he couldn’t blame them one bit for calling it out as it is. Clearing his throat once then twice, he tried to speak again, voice awfully raspy (even more than after he’d had a smoke). “You… you cooked?”

They hummed in affirmation, now with their back turned to him as they began to crack eggs into a pan. “Not done yet, but yeah. You’ve only slept a couple of hours, so I figured it would be better if I managed to get us through breakfast in your place. Won’t be as good as yours, but I hope you can trust me to try.”

As they waved off to their left, he saw how they’d propped up his notebook against the pepper shaker. And maybe this was just him feeling extra sensitive and still a little in a haze, but something stirred in his chest at the thought of them carefully following every step in his recipes and diligently trying to emulate his cooking.

“Mon ange, you shouldn’t have…” His voice was still a little rough yet trembling with the emotions he couldn’t even try to hide; emotions that were bigger than his own feeble heart could take. His fists curled at his sides, eyebrows furrowed as he watched them elegantly handle the kitchenware like they were their own. This was too much for him. “I can handle my own hangover. It’s… it’s not your responsibility to do my own job.”

With a sigh, they turned down the stove and looked back at him with an exasperated yet incredibly fond look in their eyes. “You silly man, no one’s forcing me to do this.” At the affectionate lilt of their voice, Sanji’s mouth went dry, and he tried to swallow (with much difficulty) past the lump in his throat.

What could he have possibly done to deserve this? He can’t have earned this much goodness. There simply was no way.

“You don’t have to earn my love, Sanji.” Fuck. Had he really said that out loud? Their soft-spoken words and the sympathetic look in their eyes told him that yes, he had. He hadn’t intended to make himself sound so pathetic, and yet here he was, accepting the way they brushed his curly eyebrow with slivers of shame curling inside his chest. “I’ve already told you, my love is yours to keep,” they softly said.

“Your… pardon, quoi?” His heart came to a stuttering stop, all his movements halted and his eyes blown wide open almost comically as the words they said finally hit him.

One look at how utterly confused and shocked he looked, and realization seemed to dawn on their face. “I guess it would be too ambitious of me to expect you to remember much of last night,” they huffed out a laugh, before taking to the chopping board and beginning to chop up some fresh vegetables as they slowly spoke, as though hoping to break it gently. “You weren’t the only one who had an indirect confession in store.”

Digging the palms of his hands into his closed eyes, Sanji threw back his head and groaned as the memories came back to him bit by bit, achingly slowly and then all at once. “Merde,” he hissed out, the throbbing in his head doubling with every image that replayed in his head. “I can’t believe…” It was almost like he’d set a personal challenge for how much a person could embarrass themself within less than 12 hours.

What other explanation was there for him just completely forgetting that the one person who’d burrowed into the depths of his heart had somehow expressed that they felt the same for him? How else could he explain not remembering that they’d said that they wanted to be with him, in some miraculous way that he still couldn’t quite believe was real?

The chop-chop-chop of the knife stilled, and they set it down with a chuckle that sent tingles down his spine and his heart into near cardiac arrest. Lovely, lovely, lovely. His hangover seemed to have a weak spot for their laughter too, because why else would his headache somehow chip away just at the sound?

They were quick to soothe him with their words, their hands reaching up to tug his arms back to his sides. “It’s fine, I promise. You’re just a bit disoriented now.” Looking into such a fond gaze didn’t help the heat rushing to his cheeks, and he found himself being reminded of just how desperately in love he was; so much that he could swear it burned him alive. “I mean it though,” they earnestly mumbled, tenderly cupping his face, “and I’ll wait till you’re well-rested. Then we’ll talk.”

“Alright,” he managed to whisper out between breaths, “But—���

“Go.” They gave him a gentle push, before turning around to stir something in a small pot and add some spices that made the smell even more tantalizing. “If you don’t want breakfast to be a disaster, that is. Wouldn’t want to send my boyfriend’s kitchen up in flames.”

That’s it. A sharp pang in the deepest crevices of his chest and he was gone, his head floating with dizziness and his vision swimming. Sanji was long dead and on his way to whichever heaven would accept him; a heaven where he was somehow inexplicably loved and wanted; a heaven where he’d hear those words from their lips and know that they were indeed—thanks to some ridiculously generous higher power that blessed him beyond his wildest dreams—referring to him.

The last thing he felt were his limbs failing to keep supporting him, and a lightheadedness that overtook him so suddenly, crumpling to the ground in a helpless heap.

I think I’m gonna die a lucky man, he dazedly thought to himself, before finally succumbing to a blissful unconsciousness against the cold kitchen floor.

“Sanji!”

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[sadprose-auroras]

Distraction – Hazel Callahan x reader

Hey, loves! Thank you everyone for all of the love for On Top, I appreciate it so much!! I’m happy to take requests, just send me an ask <3

Content: violence, cursing, kissing.

Summary: Have you ever wanted to be PJ in this scene? Me too! So, I rewrote the final scene as a self-insert. Most dialogue is from the movie.

Please let me know what you think! Word Count: 2.2k

“Oh, now you want a bomb.”

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Holding your breath, you watched Hazel set up the bomb on the tree across the field. You could only cross your fingers that it would work properly; the last time did not go as expected.

“Hazel, it’s starting!” Annie shouts, as the football team begins to make their way onto the field. Panic setting in, you briefly consider running over to help her out. Suddenly, she’s sprinting over to the group, diving to take cover. You all bow your heads down, grabbing onto whoever is closest, holding your breath. You try not to think about Hazel’s head buried in your shoulder. Now is not the time. After a few moments, you all collectively raise your heads. It didn’t go off.

Everyone begins to talk over each other as Hazel starts fiddling with the remote.

“Maybe turn it on and then back off?”

“Why isn’t it working?”

“Did you set it to 15 minutes this time?”

You remain silent, eyes darting around trying to think of another solution.

“Okay, Plan B!” you say suddenly standing up. “We need to get the cheerleaders to make out with each other!” You begin to stalk over to the cheerleaders performing for the crowd, most of your friends following you. You briefly turn around to notice Josie crouched down looking at something and frown but decide to continue on your mission. You know how much this school fetishizes queer women. This has to work.

You all begin yelling, making cruse gestures.

“Guys, kiss each other!”

“Make out with each other!” Hazel shouts from the stands. Even your best friend saying the words ‘make out’ makes your knees weak. Despite the adrenaline of the situation, you still feel it. You feel every effect she has on you, always. The too-enthusiastic announcer comes over the loudspeaker, so loud it shakes the ground.

“HIDE YOUR CHILDREN, HERE COMES HUNTINGTON!”

Oh shit.

The yellow-clad team begins their entrance, and the crowd goes absolutely wild. The sense of dread that was gnawing at your stomach begins to grow. You have to do something. Now.

PJ nudges your side, giving you a knowing look. You furrow your brows. You were close, but you couldn’t read your friend’s mind.

“Go kiss her,” she says impatiently.

“Who?” you ask, your heart rate picking up.

“Oh my god, just do it! People will watch, trust me. Go, go!” You swallow heavily, your gaze meeting Hazel’s. Somehow, she understands exactly what your panicked, questioning eyes are asking. She gives the slightest nod. Blood rushing to your ears with nerves, you gather all the courage you have to walk over to her, pushing past some people in the crowd. You don’t look away from each other for a second.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she says, a smile ghosting her lips. You slot your lips together gently, hands finding the sides of her face, hers settling on your waist. The feeling makes your head spin. It takes a few moments for you to find a rhythm, awkwardly bumping noses and hitting teeth a couple of times. Once you do though, desire spreads from the pit of your stomach to your entire body. You had no idea kissing could feel this good.

You’re vaguely aware of people shouting, “look!” clapping and looking at the two of you. Which is what you wanted, of course. It’s the only reason you were doing this in the first place… right? And yet, you didn’t care. About saving the football players, about being a distraction, about anything else. It truly felt like time was suspended and you were the only two people in the world.

As the kiss deepened, you moved closer, bodies pressing against one another. You can feel the coolness of Hazel’s rings on your skin as she thumbs at your hips, your shirt riding up. Just as you were thinking that you could do this forever, an announcement over the loudspeaker brought you back to reality.

“CAN EVERYBODY STOP LOOKING AT THE DYKE PARADE? WHO DO I HAVE TO BLOW TO GET THIS GAME STARTED ALREADY?”

You pull apart quickly, in sync as always, as Hazel’s big blue eyes bore into yours. You touch your lips, which are still tingling, as she rubs the back of her neck which she always does when she feels nervous.

You both rush down to rejoin the others, as they were all frantic about what you were going to do now.

“You guys kissed! With tongue!” Sylvie says, apparently very excited about it. You make eye contact with Hazel as she smirks, your stomach doing a little flip, before looking away.

“Yeah, and we could do it again, if necessary, I mean-if we need another distraction, y’know like I really feel like it worked…” Hazel trails off.

“It certainly worked for me,” you murmur, before you can think about what you’re saying.

“What?” Hazel asks. You open your mouth as if to answer, absolutely mortified, when Josie runs up to you all in a panic. You weirdly find yourself grateful for the distraction, albeit news of the life-threatening situation.

“Look, I found empty barrels of pineapple juice, they’re going to poison Jeff! Where the fuck could it be?” she says frantically, eyes wide. You all look at each other, realisation setting in.

“What if it’s in their mouths, and they’re going to swish it around, and then spit it out midgame?” PJ asks, and you bite back a laugh. You loved her, but sometimes she made no sense.

“I don’t think-“ you begin to say, when Hazel speaks up.

“I hate to say it, but it might have something to do with their semen,” she says, sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, it wouldn’t, what is wrong with you?” you ask, baffled but amused. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Annie moving away from the group, looking out onto the field. You follow her gaze, realisation settling in at the same time.

“They’re gonna spray the field, we’re gonna have to run!” Annie shouts. You take off after her, muttering “oh god, oh shit, fuck fuck fuck, I have a stitch,” under your breath.

“It’s okay, we’ve got this,” Hazel says, voice surprisingly even despite how fast you were all running. You turn your head briefly to smile gratefully at her.

“Yeah, we do.”

“PJ, cover the sprinklers!” Josie yells, picking up Jeff, quite literally hoisting him over her shoulder and starting to run off the field. You were impressed at her strength. As if in slow motion, Huntington began moving towards you in formation. You took a deep breath, turning around to look at your group of friends. Isabel, Brittany and Stella Rebecca appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and you smiled to yourself. Huntington let out a scream in unison, and you all responded by doing the same. It was cathartic, quite frankly.

The next few moments were a blur. As the two groups came together, people paired off to fight each other. One particularly large football player came at you with his arms outstretched as if to push you over, but you dodged out of the way, then swung your elbow at the back of his head with a satisfying crack. He stumbles, coming at you with a raised fist, but he’s too slow. You duck as he misses, then, with all of your strength, you kick out your leg at his knees, knocking him over, hitting his head hard on the ground in the process.

You take the opportunity to glance around and notice that you’re actually winning. There are several Huntington players sprawled on the ground, unconscious, while all of your friends remained upright. (Albeit, covered in blood, but you were trying to be positive)

You scan to look for Hazel, and notice her holding a football helmet over her head, swinging it down on a Huntington player who is choking Tim. The guy rolls off him, and Tim coughs and stands up. You want to rush over to her, grab her, hold her, ask if she’s okay, protect her, before you’re suddenly tackled roughly to the ground by somebody behind you. You scream, try and scramble out of his grip, using your knees and legs to kick out, arms pushing at him, but nothing. He brings his fist down in the centre of your face, and you cry out. The pain is like nothing you’ve experienced. You lock eyes, and the wildness in the man’s eyes makes your heart sink. He wasn’t going to stop for anything.

Just as your life begins to flash behind your eyes, you hear Hazel yell your name, and she brings down the helmet with force on his head. You push him off you, as he lays there unconscious. You look up to Hazel in shock, panting heavily. Her eye is swollen red, blood splattered on her shirt, her hair is mused, and the stadium light just behind her head is casting a glow around her not dissimilar to a halo.

“Are you okay?” she asks, stretching her arm out to help you up. You take it, standing up with a grunt.

“I-yeah- th-thank you.” You notice you’re still holding hands, and drop it, both of you chuckling awkwardly. The brief respite from the dreaded feeling doesn’t last long when you notice a player twice Hazel’s size coming up behind her menacingly.

“Watch out!” You scream, grabbing her shoulders and moving her to the side as she stumbles slightly. Mustering everything you have, you roundhouse kick him with a yell of effort, aiming for his head but getting him in the neck instead. It doesn’t matter though, as he falls to the ground with a thud. Hazel comes up and punches him square in the face, leaving him unconscious.

“Thank you,” she says between heavy breaths, holding onto her fist in pain. You try not to think about how attractive her hands are covered in cuts and bruises.

“Don’t mention it,” you respond, wiping some blood that is dripping out of your nose. You look around, and can’t see any Huntington players left, instead your friends moving around the bodies on the ground, blood covering their clothes and faces.

“Did we do it?” you vaguely ask. Before anyone can answer you, you notice one last player coming up behind PJ who is on her knees on the ground.

“PJ, look out!” you all shout in unison as he moves towards her. Suddenly, he is knocked heavily onto the ground. Josie had come up behind him, swinging a baseball bat. For a few moments, nobody moves. Nobody speaks. You all look at each other, taking in each other’s appearances. You lock eyes with Hazel, breath catching in your throat. The entire crowd is completely still, mouths hanging open. A hissing sound begins, and the sprinklers begin spraying a liquid over the field.

The first person to speak is Tim.

“It’s pineapple juice! Turn it off!” he yells. With a squeak, they stop. Slowly, the crowd begins to clap, increasingly getting louder and louder. Soon, the cheering is deafening.

“Yes, this is the viking way!” Tim yells. You finally allow yourself to let out a breath. The group begins to celebrate, hugging each other. You give PJ a big hug, pulling away to notice Josie and Isabel kissing in the middle of everything. You look at each other and laugh in disbelief.

“Love that for them,” she says, and you nod. PJ moves away to hug somebody else, when you make eye contact with Hazel. You both glance over to Josie and Isabel, then back to each other. She smiled shyly, and your cheeks burn as you look down, unable to help from giggling to yourself. You walk over to Hazel, and you wrap your arms around each other. You let out a shaky breath, holding onto her tightly. When you pull away from each other, you’re not sure what to say.

“I-uh-“ you begin, then chuckle awkwardly.

“I meant it when I said we could kiss again,” she says, her hands in her pockets as she shuffles back and forth on her feet, looking up at you beneath her lashes. Your heart quite literally skips a beat.

In response, you move closer to her yet again, tilting her head up with your fingers on her chin.

“Is this going to ruin the friendship?” you ask quietly. Hazel barely gets her next words out before your lips meet.

“I don’t care.”

Your eyes flutter closed, exhaling through your nose as your lips move together in sync. This time, you know exactly how to kiss one another. You briefly wonder how many girls Hazel had kissed to be this good at it.

“Oh my god,” you murmur against her lips, giving her one last soft kiss.

“I know,” Hazel says, smiling in the way that she does that makes your insides twist in the best way possible.

“Um, so, I have a really important question,” you say cheekily, twirling a piece of Hazel’s hair in your finger.

“Yeah?” she asks, frowning.

“Why the fuck do you know how to build a bomb?” Hazel immediately laughs. As if right on cue, you hear a boom. You whip your head around, gasping to see the tree on fire.

“I still think we were a better distraction,” Hazel murmurs, not answering your question, before she leaves a soft kiss on your neck. You sigh, eyes fluttering at the feeling.

[slaaverin]

Are you sure? Initial thoughts

Ah I've been rereading a post I made before AYS aired about my excitement and hope for the show.

How joyful yet filled with dread I was about what would be on display, what would be uncovered, and people's reaction.

In retrospect, I think AYS gave us everything we hoped for and more.

We saw jikook relaxed and comfortable, enjoying their time together, doing mundane stuff, with quiet and simple moments, or doing fun activities where they felt free and joyful and in the present moment.

My takeway of this show and jikook's relationship is their sense of belonging.

I hoped for a closer look into their dynamic and we really got that.

The way their relationship works is that no matter what they are doing (or not doing), you can see how much pleasure they are taking for simply being in each other's presence. There is a flow and an ease between them that never gets disrupted by anything. They simply adapt to their circumstances and keep being authentic and enjoy the time together.

They showed several times how important these trips were for them.

But in truth it showed it was not (only) about the trips.

What is really obvious is how much they value their relationship, how much care they put in it.

This is not about the trips, this is not about making a show.

This is allowing time to tend and to nurture this relationship they deeply love.

That's what most important.

It matters to them, so much.

Even with Jungkook (we can see it in I am still) crazy schedule. Maybe because of his schedule.

It was needed, it was even indispensable.

Now we have all the information, I cannot see them not making those trips before military. They craved it so much, and they loved it so much, it was for their own mental health and well-being, to keep their internal balance.

When your world turns upside down, when you are faced with the Unknown, your first instinct is to reassure yourself, is to go home, and make yourself a cup of warm tea, and do the things that makes you feel calm and relaxed. As humans we tend to do this, to take cover, to retreat, in the safest place we know, to ease our hearts and to make us think everything will be ok.

That's what Jimin & Jungkook did.

They went home to each other. They took cover into the ease and softness of their relationship, because that's known. Because that's safe. It's where they feel they belong and they can rest.

I understand why.

Such relationship is an oddity in the real world, it's once every blue moon, it doesn't come easily, sometimes people spend their whole life searching for it.

We can see also how much the dynamic is different with other members. Nothing compares to them.

I think jikook are aware of this (because they are smart people) so when you find something so precious, you want to care for it and keep it close to your heart.

It shows in how much tenderness they have for e/o.

Jungkook plays the "baby alpha" yet with Jimin he transforms into the most caring and protective.

Jimin is a selfless guy in general but we see how he truly deeply enjoys seeing Jungkook happy. "All for your happiness".

Damn it makes me tear up just to think about it.

They are SO LOUD. My god.

It is so goddamn beautiful to witness.

At this point I am simply happy for them.

Happy they have each other. Happy they got to show who they are together with no repercussions (because thank god people are still stupid! Blessed be the ignorant)

This show was a rollercoaster of emotions, but now we know, now we see, now we say "Ah yes, that's it. This is what this is about"

Forever grateful to them for trusting us like this with a huge part of themselves.

They really do love us a lot.

(I'm writing this as I should be editing the show, so this post is pure procrastination, let me to back to work 😂)

Thank you for reading 💜

[reds-writings]

if only tonight we could sleep?

the dora lange case had come to a close...but was it really ever over?

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: inspired by getting lost in the sound of the cure's kiss me, kiss me, kiss me album. this is set somewhere in the same world of jealousy, jealousy!. your feedback, as always, is greatly treasured!

word count: around 2.6k

warnings: angst, canon-typical death (mentions of what happens at the Ledoux shootout), nudity (showering together!), cursing, dread, etc (minors go away)

The Dora Lange case had finally been closed once and for all. All the bullshit and danger that had accumulated over all these weeks could finally cease to continue. You’re sure that even within the next twenty something odd years or so when all of this would be well blown over and buried you would never be able to truly process the fucked up-ness of it all. 

Your mind was thoroughly numb and all of your limbs ached to no end. You could feel everything you’d endured catching up to you as your body finally allowed itself to let go. Adrenaline and sheer will had been what kept you from fully crumbling during the case’s most crucial and final moments. The shit Rust and Marty decided to pull with that druggie Ginger had already left you worse for wear. Discovering Ledoux and the horrors that were transpiring in that shithole was something you couldn’t let yourself dwell on for too long lest you wanted to find yourself having a complete mental breakdown. Bodies and skulls being blown to bits right in front of you. The sight of rich blood and scattered brain matter sprayed to stain onto your boots. Finding those kids like that…you’d never get over it. One was sentenced to a life of trauma that left her catatonic and the other one deceased. You’d had the naive thought more than once telling you if only we'd all been a bit quicker…

But there was no point in dwelling on all the ifs and maybes. That was a guaranteed one-way ticket to self-induced insanity. 

You should feel relief that this is over. The weight of one of the many atrocities committed in the world removed from your down-trodden shoulders. Solved. A monster taken down and put into the earth where he couldn’t return to cause more strife. Why couldn't it feel over? Where was the relief?

You didn’t know much of what Rust and Marty felt on the matter, too busy dealing with keeping your stories straight on just how you all had come across Ledoux’s hideout instead of finding the time to have a heart-to-heart on how much this might’ve permanently screwed with your heads for ages to come. You knew well enough that ending the case like this wasn’t easy for either of them given their respective standpoints when it came to kids. Marty discovered those children and both men had carried them back. Rust had shouldered the burden of carrying that poor boy. A small choice of action that had your heart twisting even more painfully than you thought it already had during it all. The Texan could go on and on about the world being shit and there being no control over the horrors one would be put through trying to live life but you found that it was he who tried the hardest to shield others from said pain and horror whether he was aware of it or not. He cared a lot more about the human race than he let on but it would be more than ineffectual trying to convince him of that particular truth. 

Things with Rust had been all over the place since the fiasco of a night you had after the bar as well as any event that followed afterwards: surprise, surprise. The time you’d initially aimed for to really sit down and decipher where it was exactly you saw the two of you headed had found itself slipping away at every possible chance. Neither of you was to necessarily blame, as the nature of your work was in constant demand of your full attention, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

You guys weren’t even truly anything yet and it was already this arduous. What kind of shelf-life did a pairing such as this really have down the line? It was more than likely that acting on any idea of pursuing Rust romantically was destined to never end in your favor. He was your coworker for Christ’s sake. Yes, there was no one else who could probably understand what it is you go through like each other but it was harder to separate other crueler aspects of your lives as well. Everything would get in the way of professionalism. It already had when it came to the showdown with Ginger. 

Trying not to let your thoughts go down the usual Rust rabbit hole it found itself in you decided that you’d take the longest and hottest shower you hadn’t had the luxury of taking in weeks. Any extra time you had lately was reserved for quick and cold rinses to keep yourself up and at 'em’. Relaxation in any sense of the word was hard to adjust to after long stretches of work such as these. It was like your body had forgotten how to just be. Nothing was chasing you and there was no clock ticking over your shoulder to mock you that time to get shit done was running out. The empty quiet that followed would never not be unnerving to you. You had nowhere to be and nothing to do. 

Where was the fucking relief? 

With a huff, you set aside the jack and coke you’d been cradling out on your front porch in the dwindling evening light. The air was more balmy than the stifling hot you’d experienced day in and day out though your skin still held that essence of a humid dew that kept your hair and clothes sticking to you like a second skin. Dusting off your pants you made way to get on up from your depressing reverie only to find the outline of a familiarly limber figure at the end of your driveway. How the hell hadn’t you heard him pull up?

“Are you gonna stand there like a regular ol’ weirdo or get up here?” You feigned nonchalance at his sudden presence but your heart told another story with the quickening pace it decided to adopt. 

Wordlessly, Rust ventured his way up the pathway and onto your shabby porch. He eyed the abandoned drink you had by your side so you offered it up to him. He loosened the tie around his neck and undid the first two buttons of his dress shirt before accepting the silent offering. It took two long gulps before the glass was drained.

There was a heavy silence for longer than what was comfortable. Where could you even start? You didn’t want to catch yourself in an awkward fumble trying to gauge what it was he exactly needed from you as it was clear there was a purpose in him showing up without a warning. The set of his posture made it seem like he was curling in on himself more and more by the minute. He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye, fearful that it would be his complete undoing. This visible deflation in action made you feel panicked for not knowing what assistance you could offer without having him pull away.

“...D’ya wanna talk about it?”

Rust shook his head softly as if in a daze. His eyes growing glassy and increasingly distant while he stared at your porch’s floorboards. 

At a loss, you cleared your throat shakily, “Well I was just about to hop in the shower. You can come inside…hang around if you want. We don’t have to talk or nothin’...o-or we can if that’s what you wanna end up doin’ after havin’ some quiet.”

No reply.

“Well, there’s beers and whatnot in the fridge if you choose. Don’t be shy to helpin’ yourself.” You got up and squeezed his hand gently, warm and calloused like you’d been dreaming about since they held you. That already felt like ages ago. He still made no move.

“I’m here.” Was all you could say and with that, you loosened your grip and headed on inside then upstairs to your bathroom. After setting out some comfy clothes and shedding out of the day’s stiff attire for all the press work that entailed you waited for the shower to reach its desired heat. The person looking back at you in your steadily fogging mirror was almost unrecognizable. Bruises from recent incidents had barely begun to make their way towards the fading process. Skin so sullen and hair even duller. When had you started to look so tired? This beaten down? You felt sorry for anyone who had the displeasure of viewing your walking corpse as of late. 

The spray of the showerhead above you was nothing short of heavenly. Any pain and misery melted away to be forever cast down into the depths of the tub’s drain. Your bones felt like lead as you let yourself stand there, waiting to gain the sense of motivation to start washing yourself clean. It could’ve been ten minutes or even ten hours before the sound of the bathroom door clicking ajar had you opening your eyes. The silhouette of the cause of your heart’s aching and beating stood beyond the fogged glass as if at a loss of what to make himself do next. You said nothing, not wanting him to feel as if he was unwanted or on the other hand forced to join you. To expose himself beyond what a casual act of nudity could display already. 

It was another elongated moment before you heard the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothes being discarded. You were so far gone that it hadn’t occurred to you he was about to see you at your most vulnerable. He’d witnessed you at some of your lowest, shittiest points but this was crossing into an entirely new territory. 

And yet you didn’t feel as scared as you thought you would. You didn’t find Rust to be as judgemental about the physical as he was about the metaphysical. 

The shower’s sliding door worked its way open and you didn’t turn around until a few moments after it had closed. The look on his face was similar to the one you’d been subjected to all those weeks ago after the bar. One of true fear. Fear of being seen at his very core. Open and raw. Fear that you’d take this all in and decide to turn him away in disgust or disinterest. Rust’s eyes didn’t wander down any further than your face. He wasn’t here out of primal desire. He needed something…someone…you to help him hold himself together for just this moment. Any and all strength he usually had keeping him upright had escaped him after the weight of everything finally penetrated his psyche. 

You found your hand making its way up to his face, tracing dampening tendrils out of his line of sight before cupping his jaw. That empty blue fluttered closed, giving himself a moment or two before completely relinquishing himself to your gentle touch. Your other hand met the other side of his face before you leaned forward to touch your forehead to his. The downfall of water in the small cubicle drowned out any other possible thoughts or worries that could’ve been had in the current moment. There was nothing and no one else that mattered. 

One kiss to his nose, then his chin, and finally his trembling lips had large palms come up to rest on the supple flesh of your hips, steadily gripping you as if you’d float away from him. You separated for a moment as his hands traveled up to clutch at your back. Before he could bring you closer you kissed him gently once more before succumbing to his grasp. Settling with leaving barely-there imprints of your mouth on the expansive skin of his chest and neck, your own hands brought themselves up to return his embrace. You felt the soft press of a peck linger on the side of your head as his grip grew a bit tighter. Seconds passed until the subtle shaking of broad shoulders had you clinging to him impossibly tighter. His sobs were not all that audible but the shuddering breaths he’d take in every now and then were more than enough to clue you in on just how much he was hurting. Tears began to burn behind your own eyes as your pain melded with his. 

Here you were, just two broken people who gave up all notions of stoicism to completely and utterly crumble in front of each other. Fully at each other’s undeniable mercy. 

- - - -

You didn’t know how much more time had passed after holding each other but as the water began to grow more frigid you made haste to help each other wash up. You both stepped out so you could wrap yourself in your own towel before making your way to your linen closet to fetch him one as well as to not have him left wet and cold for too long. With your mind a bit clearer from the emotional release experienced, you finally came to realize the presence of the exceptionally athletic physique in front of you. He seemed to be in the same state of appreciation towards you and you caught yourself feeling hot in the face as you clumsily thrust a towel in his direction. 

“You don’t have to be shy in front of me.” His voice sounded raw from lack of use. The first words he’d uttered since he’d come here.

You tucked a wet piece of hair behind your ear, trying to casually meet his stare, “I know. Just didn’t expect us to end up here when you showed up is all. It’s just catchin’ up to me…” The pinch of your chin between long fingers drew you to kiss him again. 

“You’re everythin'...and then some.” 

You fought a self-deprecating scoff but he said it as if it were the most simplest fact in the world. You had no choice but to believe him.

“Let’s just find you some clothes. I am in dire need of one looong hibernation after everythin’. You too, mister.” You flicked his chest then slinked out of the bathroom. You finished any of the necessary preparations for bed by the time he had wandered into your room. The window you cracked open let in a gentle breeze while the warm glow of the few candles that had been lit danced in the haven you created. Whether you wanted a form of light for the sake of your own comfort or it being done out of some subconsciously innate need to keep Rust out of the dark for the night, you didn’t care to unpack. 

Climbing into bed once and for all, you lay facing each other. Letting peace and stillness settle in. 

“We did it y’know…it’s over. We can be okay.” You couldn’t help but say. Feeling the need to find something to reaffirm the so-called fact that should’ve been comforting at the end of all this. Anything to soothe underlying anxiety as the heavy shadow of the unknown and incomplete loomed over you. It should’ve been over but Ledoux was but a small piece to a hugely fragmented puzzle. Both of you knew it deep down but hadn’t the strength to confirm it out loud. Afraid to shatter this sense of temporary false security.

This was far from being done and dealt with. From being fully uncovered.  

Rust didn’t say anything else as he pulled you into the warmth of his chest. Caging you in with no choice but to surrender to the silent feeling of safety he was trying to provide you. You could only pray that the two of you could make it through anything as you both found yourselves victims to the passing of time and any other trials it had ready for you.

Especially with whatever was waiting for you on the other side of Carcosa.  

----

a/n: ahhhh! hurt/comfort is always a guilty pleasure. sorry for the immense dread at the end. i'm thinking of cooking up another fic that draws back to what exactly went down with our trio and ginger if that's something of interest to you all! thanks for reading!

[fantasyinallforms]

Let's talk about this scene. It's one of the most popular, and the writers and actors knew exactly what they were doing when they filmed it. This is going to be a LONG, long post because I will be breaking down and analyzing looks as well as dialog. Don't worry, I will add in a cut! Let's start with the look on Bilbo's face. Specifically, I've slowed the GIF down so you can get a good look at his face.

Bilbo stated quite clearly to Gandalf the night before this that he was not afraid of Thorin, but he is not so naive as to think that he will stay in Thorin's good graces after this. Hitched breath, sluggish movement, rapid blinking, and a look of dread on his face. This is a funeral march for whatever future might have been brewing over the course of the journey.

Thorin, by comparison, is almost slow to comprehend. There is doubt about what he is hearing written all over his features. He shakes his head and says "you" like he expected to turn around and see someone else standing there using Bilbo's voice. What I really want to get at is the conversation right after. Because it's always struck me that Thorin and Bilbo are not having the same conversation with each other.

"I took it as my fourteenth share," followed immediately by "You would steal from me?"

Now, it's, of course, important to note that Thorin is at peak dragon sickness at the moment and not in his right mind. That said, Bilbo stealing something from him was truly the last thing he could have possibly imagined happening. He suspected his kin less than a day ago but never Bilbo. I've said this in a previous deep dive, but the way that the dragon sickness reconciled Thorin's love for Bilbo and the gold was to place them in the same category. You don't expect what is entirely yours to be capable of theft. We're going to skip ahead slightly in the next GIF.

Ok, so this is where we start to see the conversation diverge. Bilbo says, "Steal from you? No, no. I'm a burglar, but I like to think I'm an honest one." Clearly trying to articulate to Thorin and the entire company that he didn't do this as a betrayal or out of greed. Thorin's response is chilling and very telling.

In the first GIF, I have no subtitles because I want you to look at his face, not what he's saying. This is the laughter and smile of a madman who just had the last thread tethering him from true madness cut. He descends very quickly from here.

Now, "You have no claim over me" is a very strong statement. In his mind, the gold is his and bound to him in every way. Bilbo, after this, is desperate. His words are desperate, and his expression is desperate. But what's more heartbreaking is the look in Thorn's eyes. Like the real Thorin is trapped behind those pretty blues, helpless to do anything.

Then, finally, after all of this, we have the full snap. The final break.

"Throw him from the ramparts."

This single line gives us probably the most heartbreaking look in the entire movie. To me, even more so than Thorin's death. This is the true "end" the final break. Bilbo's head was bent low. He was willing to take the vitriol the hate. He understood where it was coming from and was prepared for it. But those 5 words ended everything. Thorin is gone, and Bilbo knows that now.

We haven't seen true fear in Bilbo. Not once. The closest we got was when he was about to charge an orc but even that was not fear alone. There was determination and resolve that colored his expression.

That last hollow look in Bilbo's eyes is properly terrified yet if I had to name this GIF I wouldn't name it terror I would name it

Loss.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 14: Collaring

Summary: Alastor had carved out a nice little undead life for himself.  Drawn by the intoxicating allure of power and freedom from the mundane, he had willingly sold his soul to you, believing it would grant him unimaginable strength. And that comes back to bite him, like you always do. Warnings: Collaring, pet names, dom-sub dynamics, slight dub-con implications, use of magic as restraints, etc. MDNI, 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @tarokitsu

It was true, Alastor had carved a nice undead life for himself. Once a mere mortal with dreams of violent grandeur, he had stumbled face first into the fiery pits of Hell. Damn his way of death but then again so was life, or so the joke went. Roaming around aimlessly with no where to go, his undead life was truly in the hands of fate. The source of his power a mystery to all but you, the powerful overlord of chaos. Drawn by the intoxicating allure of power and freedom from the mundane, he had willingly sold his soul to you, believing it would grant him unimaginable strength. It did, for the most part. Years had passed since Alastor’s hand had wrapped in your glowing red ones, and he thrived in the chaotic realm, his reputation growing. He reveled in mischief, manipulating the very fabric of Hell, yet the memory of his pact lingered in the back of his mind like an unwelcome guest. You would often visit every couple months or so, caressing the edges of him mind with a gentle reminder of his pledges to you. 

Alastor, you will be an obidient and loyal servant till his undead live end and in return, I shall grant you power not even the King of Hell himself can comprehend. 

And so the years went on. Amid a chaotic feast of souls, Alastor was plotting his next broadcast without a care in the world. The dimming light of the Hellish day was coming to an end and so were the daily activities of the Radio Demon. A perfect time to stir the pot. Your form appeared in a swirling mass of shadows and light, eyes glinting like red supernovas in a void. Soon, Alastor’s evening revelry faded, and a palpable tension filled the air as you surveyed your domain.

“Alastor,” you called, voice a melody that both thrilled and haunted him. “It’s time to fulfill your end of our agreement.”

He straightened, a confident grin plastered on his face, masking the dread bubbling beneath. “Of course, my lady! I’ve been quite busy, you know. So many souls, so little time.”

Your gaze sharpened, and he felt the weight of your intent. “You think your tricks and games can postpone your payment? I need more than your fleeting soul capturing.” The atmosphere shifted as you advanced, a whirlwind of chaotic energy swirling around you. 

Alastor’s bravado faltered. “Payment? Surely, I’ve given enough in my service!”

In an instant, you summoned a red collar with a snap of your wrist, shimmering with dark energy. It coiled like a serpent in your grasp, a symbol of submission and power intertwined. You tsked softly, a small smirked coming to form maliciously on your features. “We play this game every time my dear. Every. Single. Time. Don’t you get bored of the disodience?”

Alastor’s heart raced. He had danced on the edge of fear and arousal, and was soon finding himself falling off the deep end of the latter. “Y/N, please—”

 “This is your due. A token of your servitude. You will wear it willingly, or I will make you.”

Before Alastor could finish a strangled plea, you moved with a speed that left him breathless, the collar snapping around his neck. The moment it closed, a surge of power coursed through him, forcing him to his knees. The chain linked to the collar glinted ominously, tethering him to you will. You admired the way he looked beneath you, so beligerant. He always was in the beginning but after years of this little game, you knew just how to make him keel. How to beg and plead to have any modicum of friction, how his eyes would tear up in ecasty as you made him find a demeanted form of heavenly release time after time. You revelved in that sight, in the luxury of seeing such a man as him bend and break under your will and cry for more. 

“Look at you,” you purred, the thrill of dominance evident in you voice. “You were so eager for power, yet now you kneel, bound by the very thing you sought to control.”

Alastor swallowed hard, a mix of attraction and acceptance swirling within him. He had gambled with his soul, and now he faced the oh-so delicious consequences. 

With that, you tugged the chain, pulling him closer. Alastor felt his pride start to wither away, yet he couldn’t ignore the strange thrill coursing through him. His ears laid flush against his head, clawed hands coming to grip the floorboards beneath him. He loved when you tugged on his chain, the pain shot through him in a sick sense of sadistic pleasure that never failed to make him hard. Craning your head down, eyes now level with his, you stood over him with a shit-eating grin and a imposing figure. 

“Now my pet, shall we play?” 

He couldn’t resist when your lips crashed onto his, sealing his eternal damnation to you and you alone. 

[cherubmm]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ YAN!SWAPDREAM.NIGHTMARE HCS ࿐ྂ

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━FEATURING: SWAPDREAM.Nightmare

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━CONTENT WARNING: Yandere in general. Soft yandere. Unhealthy attachment. Hint of violence. Implied Moral dilemma. One-sided love. Slightly implied suggestive theme(?). Attempt of nonconsensual touches (dw nothing really happens). Breaking in. Mention of stealing belongings. Stalking. Obsessive & Possessive thoughts. OCC. Proof-read(yay!)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Can't y'all notice that I want turn this into filthy filthy filthy? Pleaseeee :( Also this is probably one of the longest writing I ever made.

Nightmare doesn't like you. But not in a sense where he loathes you entirely— quite the contrary, actually— rather, in a way where he wants nothing to do with you and for the reason of it is simple; he wants you safe. Unlike his brother who feels exceedingly entitled to control his darling's emotions and calling dibs right up, nightmare would be very AGAINST IT.

The guardian of negativity are highly empathic when it comes to your situation— Poor little you, it must be unfortunate to be admired, let alone be loved, by a repulsive being such as himself, ain't it? He pity you, he truly does! This skeleton is painfully aware of the danger and dire possibilities of being associated with him even as he tries —and fails — to delude himself otherwise.

And yet, despite his words.... He couldn't bring to turn his heels away from you no matter what his conscience screamed at him. How unfortunate

The darker guardian never let you meet him. That's right, you heard it clearly; never let you meet him. Just as i'd stated earlier, there are so many dreadful scenarios that could happen to you just by associating or being seen together with him, public or not, there's still an eye in every corner.

While I tend to keep it ambiguous and leave the relationship of darling and the yandere to the readers, the most likely and fitted scenario that would happen here is he's a stranger to you— completely, utterly and entirely so. You wouldn't know who he is nor will get any thoughts about it. Nightmare made sure that you remain oblivious to his presence all while he's not in yours. He craftily calculated everything, pulling string deliberately over the course of continuing his duty to protect the weak —mostly you— and hunt his brother.

Speaking of which, nightmare's BIGGEST fear is for you, to encounter dream (yeah, you come first. The rest can come next or be damned, he doesn't really care). Hypothetically, if there is still indeed an apple left on the tree, nightmare wouldn't hesitate to devour it just to annihilate dream all at once the moment he senses any alludes of interest directly to you. This is not even him— talking from possessiveness. In general,the younger skeleton knows his (delusional) brother's motives and it's always up-to-no-good. The last thing he wanted is for his cherished beloved, to be caught on the web.

Nightmare is greatly frustrated at the situation he put himself in. While the judiciousness alongside his morality (fortunately) overpowering his very own desire, the minor part of mind— something that ran far deeper than simple hunger for closure or possession yet veiled by the constant self-restriction— constantly murmured temptation to his (metamorphic) ears. The promising of forbidden pleasure he could taste if he only let his guard down and indulge for once— just this once.

This is always how it goes. The voice will strike at the times where he's at his weakest and desperate point. Yet, by the end of the day, he will never acted out on it. After all, he swore to his very being to not disturb you with his wretched presence, only allowed to bask at the sight of your beauty behind the shadow, where he can properly monitor and execute any danger that could possibly lurking near you. Right, he doesn't have a weak mind, he can't be affected by it. No never!.

...

...Then why is he here...?

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. What the fuck is he thinking?!

Nightmare paced restlessly, his tall frame moving back and forth in complete silence at the corner of your room. His gloved hands gripped at the sides of his skull, clawing in desperation, trying to quiet the raging conflict inside his mind. His face twisted with emotions he fought so hard to keep buried—anguish, frustration, guilt. Each second that passed only darkened the torment.

This is bad. This is bad. This is so, so bad. Fuckin' hell, Nightmare, you’ve messed up real bad this time, he thought—or was it him thinking? The voice in his head sounded like his own, but the words were biting, foreign. His thoughts were so loud, so scattered, they felt almost tangible.

He needed to smoke. Anything to dull the noise in his head, to drag himself back to some semblance of control. But the heavy sigh that left him was shaky, not quite calming. He had to get a grip. If he let his emotions slip any further, he might wake you, and disturbing your peace was the last thing he wanted to do.

Nightmare paused, standing still as his gaze shifted toward your sleeping form. You looked so peaceful, completely unaware of the storm raging just a few feet away. Seeing you like this—so vulnerable, so unguarded—was enough to make his thoughts blur into a painful white noise.

What the hell am I doing here? He’d sworn to himself, over and over again, that he wouldn’t disturb you. That he’d stay in the shadows where he belonged, only watching from a distance, ensuring your safety without ever letting you know of his cursed presence. He was supposed to be your guardian, protector. Never the intruder.

But here he was, standing at the edge of your bed like a hypocrite, breaking all the promises he’d made to himself. Guilt gnawed at him, making him feel filthy, like he was tainting the very air around you. He was doing exactly what he swore he never would—he was crossing the line. He should leave. Now. Forget this ever happened and go back to keeping his distance.

But when his gaze fell on you again, all his self-reprimands dissolved. The thoughts turned to dust in the back of his mind. You were ethereal. So pure, so unblemished, so untouched by almost anything.

Without realizing it, his feet moved forward. He knelt at the edge of your bed, his hand trembling as it hovered near your exposed leg. His mind flooded with filthy, shameful thoughts—what if he just let go for once? What if he gave in to the temptation that had been eating away at him for so long? He could touch you right now, could claim just a moment of forbidden pleasure.

...

But the moment passed. His restraint won out, as it always did.

Instead of touching your skin, Nightmare gently grasped the edge of your blanket, pulling it over you to cover the exposed areas. His hands were still shaking as he made sure the fabric was tucked securely around you, ensuring that no cold air would reach your delicate skin. It was a small act, something that soothed the turmoil within him, if only for a fleeting second.

He stood again, distancing himself from the temptation that had nearly undone him. His gaze wandered across your room, taking in the personal belongings that filled the space. His eyes caught on the pictures scattered on your shelves—photos of you, smiling alongside others. Who are these people? Jealousy flared within him, but he quickly quashed it, moving instead toward your belongings.

His eyes landed on something small and delicate: your handkerchief. It sat neatly on one of your shelves, its design is unmistakably yours. Nightmare reached for it with trembling hands, bringing the fabric to his face. He inhaled softly, trying to capture the faint trace of your scent that lingered on the cloth.

The scent calmed him, grounding him for a moment as he stood there in the quiet of your room, the fabric pressed gently to his face. After a while, the feeling faded. His fingers grew still, and he knew it was time to leave.

But instead of placing the handkerchief back where he found it, he tucked it neatly into his coat pocket. A small, selfish memento of the night. A part of you to keep with him when he couldn’t be near.

He made his way back to your bedside, his gaze falling on you one last time. His eyes softened as he watched you sleep, his chest heavy with longing and guilt. He didn’t deserve to be here, didn’t deserve to be near you.

With one final glance, he disappeared, fading in the gust of purple smoke as if he’d never been there at all.

Ⓒ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐦 ──── 10/6/24 Navigation | Masterlist