#why the fuck did i married that man (affectionated)

[arminsumi]

gojo feeling a bit down but being terrible at communicating it but you can tell because when he thinks your not looking he looks sad so ur just super affectionate with him without saying why and giving him all the love he needs 🥺

TWO DAYS IS TOO LONG.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟

NOTE: aaa this!! 😩 i hope u like what i did with it 💗

WARNINGS — fem reader, small bit of angst, pre-established relationship (married), if u saw an error then... no u didn't... 🥲

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

p.s. requests are open again sweeties! come say hi i would love to write for uuu!!

You're folding clothes into a suitcase in preparation for a business trip to Okinawa when your husband comes into the bedroom.

He lingers behind you with a solemn expression, hair brushing the top of the doorframe. If there's one thing he hates most, it's your business trips to Okinawa, because he can't ever tag along (and he's tried. He's clung to your leg at the airport before.)

It's just two days.

But those two days are two days too long for him. He watches you serenely packing your suitcase for a little while longer, his lips skewed into a sad curve, and then does what he always does when he's upset and slowly embraces your from behind.

"Angel." you jump a little. This man is as quiet and stealthy as a cat when he's sad. That's already a telling sign that he's upset — silence. Gojo Satoru is hardly a quiet man, especially around his wife.

"What's the matter?" you ask softly, still nimbly folding clothes with your hands. His arms vine around your tummy and he lowers his face to rest on your shoulder.

"Nothin'." he lies very unconvincingly. You can hear the lack of liveliness in his voice.

You turn around in his embrace. Lips still stuck in a sad curve, he looks down at you like a lost puppy. A tall, lanky, moody puppy of a man.

"C'mere." you beckon for him to lower himself into a kiss. He listens and when he feels the press of your lips, he melts like butter.

He licks his lips savoringly after you pull your face away. Feeling your hands cupping his cheeks is just what he needed right now.

"It's only for two days, Satoru. You're so dramatic." you tease.

He groans, "Two! Whole! Days! It annoys me. I wanna go with you so bad."

You tilt your head at him adoringly. Folding and packing has completely ceased, now you're giving full attention to your pouty husband and that makes him happy. He's relishing in it, bathing in the way you look at him with so much love.

"You know you can call me, right?" you tell him, calming his twittering nerves with each soothing touch across his shoulders and arms.

"But I want more than that. I want you right here." he groans and then does the most Gojo thing possible and purposefully topples his weight on you so you're pinned to the bed underneath him.

"S'toru, can't b-reathe!" you giggle shortly, feeling his body press to yours.

"I'm staying like this 'till the plane leaves 'n then you'll have to stay."

"You're ridiculous."

He smirks into your neck. "Call Nanami and tell him he's just gonna have to do all the work himself."

You laugh. Your husband rolls off to the side, realizing he's very slightly crushing you.

"So jealous." you remark. Gojo flares up defensively.

"I'm not jealous! — okay, a little — you know what yes! I am jealous! So fucking jealous."

You laugh again. He's furrowing his brows, clinging to your body like he does when he prepares to nap. A very cat-like posture. And then he paws for your attention.

"How did I marry such a damn goof." you tease.

"You married me because I'm a goof." he muttered.

"True. That was one of the first reasons I crushed on you."

His ears perked up. You'd began stroking your fingers through his hair, and he was relaxing against your body just soaking up the affection. "Oh really?" he smirks. "What were the other reasons, tell me."

You have to roll your eyes. He pesters you until you start telling him the long, long list of reasons why you fell in love with him. Gojo's smiling into your skin, happily listening and dozing off.

"Angel? Did you fall asleep? Of course you did." you sigh, looking at your half-filled suitcase and the clock; your plane was going to depart in an hour.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[ariaste]

so i'm reading Interview With the Vampire for the first time in twenty years and this shit is SO FUCKING FUNNY like. god.

like there you are, being louis, having your beautiful elegant grief over the death of your brother and this random vampire partially eats you on your doorstep one night and then rocks up the next night pretending to be a Really Cool Elegant Suave Guy like "bonjouuuuur do u want to be a vampire [drapes self elegantly all over the room] i could do that for you" and then you're like "wow okay [privately noticing all the hot things about him]" and then he makes you a vampire and you're like "wow he is holding me like a lover and i have some unspecified Feelings about it, he is radiant, he is so beautiful, golly" and then to everyone's disappointment but particularly yours, this allegedly cool suave elegant vampire proceeds to immediately drop the act and reveal that he is the least cool person who has genuinely ever existed, in fact he is absolutely intolerable and a Whole Ass Moron, and all you can do is stare in incredulity and mounting contempt as he blithely installs his REAL DAD in your house without asking or even communicating in advance that he HAD a dad (you are bewildered to discover that vampires have dads or at least this weirdo does for some reason???), and starts spending your money like he's the sugar baby in this situation (and to your horror you realize that he IS ACTUALLY THE SUGAR BABY IN THIS SITUATION, HOW DID HE CON YOU INTO THIS) and you're immediately like "fuck fuck fuck fuck i've made a huge mistake" and start keeping an eye out for any local vampire divorce lawyers and making a mental note of every single wrong he commits so that a couple centuries later you can bitch about them to a random reporter you just met like

oh the bitching, oh the sass. "had he any native intelligence" i'm crying. "characteristic lack of common sense" not even the common sense god gave a gnat, yeah wow ur right. "i was tempted to say 'yes you are', but I didn't" YOU SHOULD HAVE, BABE, YOU WERE JUSTIFIED god the moral high ground here is two inches high

And then there's this whole tangent about "yeah and then after a while Lestat got this fang-crush on this random neighbor boy -- you know, like when you see a random neighbor boy and you reeaaaaaally want to eat him?? anyway i told him not to eat the neighbor boy, including physically wrestling him in the rain to keep him from pouncing on the neighbor boy while the neighbor boy was having a little rapier duel with someone, but lestat was wily and slippery and uh well that was it for the neighbor boy" like god lestat is so fucking stupid (affectionate), he's LITERALLY going around louis' house like ":) wow you have nice plates. and glasses! I miss glasses. wait i know I'LL PUT A RAT IN THE GLASS [hunts around in the grass for a rat while Louis watches in bewilderment from the window] [gets a rat] [pours the rat into the glass] [elegant sip] [complains that it gets cold too fast] [inexplicably smashes the glass when he's done with it?????? for vibes i guess?????]" the exasperation. the outrage. this is not what Louis signed up for. he thought HE was going to be the sugar baby. he thought he was getting swept off his feet and Romanced and shit. where is the hot vampire who was like "oooh louis let's be together forever" and why has he been replaced with this blond moron in his house, breaking his THINGS, having a dad who he yells at???? and being very polite to guests actually

like. pals Lestat was the original cringefail emo poser boyfriend and none of us deserve to stand in his presence. Louis is so embarrassed to have ever associated with him. this book is a comedy.

tbh tho raise a glass for lestat tho who wiggled his lil self into New Orleans like "step one, find sugar daddy to keep track of my money :))))) and marry him" like yeah he's embarrassing to know but to his credit the man DOES know how to invent and execute a plan with impressive efficiency while vastly outmaneuvering anyone with allegedly more common sense, so who's the real moron in this situation, hm???

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 12

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: a tragic but necessary lack of Jason in this chapter, reader's friend calls her a bitch (affectionately), talks about insecurities wc: 2k

Chapter Selection

“Bitch, get out here already!” Stella called from her perch on my couch.

I chuckled softly, slowly entering the living room. It felt so strange to have such a fancy gown on in my dinky little apartment, but Stella had pulled the best friend card, so of course I had to show it to her! I did a little spin so she could see the full effect.

She gasped softly, covering her mouth with one hand. “Oh my fucking god…”

“... What?”

“God, you look like a princess!” She squealed before pouting a bit. “It's downright criminal that you're not even going to ask them about letting me tag along! I want the princess treatment too!”

I chuckled, smoothing out the skirt. “I'm not going to ask favors of people I barely know, Stell!”

“So ask your boyfriend, you know him!”

“Next time. I don't want it to look like I'm using him for his family connections, or his money.”

She sighed; “I guess you have a point … hey, he's got brothers, any of them single? Maybe I could swing my own invite to this thing!”

“... You know what, I don't know if Dick is single or not. … Tim's got a boyfriend, so the only definitely single one is the fourteen years old.”

She sighed, throwing herself back on the armrest. “Lame… well, at least let me live vicariously through you; what are you gonna wear with it?”

“... Elaborate?”

She raised an eyebrow; “jewelry, shoes? Oh! Let me do your hair and makeup, pleeeaaaase let me do your hair and makeup for the gala!”

“... Jewelry; I don't know. Shoes; these black heels Stephanie helped me find - she said they're the most comfortable heels she's ever worn, I just have to wear them for a few hours at a time the week before. Hair and makeup; yes, you can be in charge.”

Stella beamed, clapping excitedly. “Ok! Go get changed, we're going shopping!”

“We- … I literally just put this on, now you want it off???”

“We have to get you some jewelry to go with your dress!” She grinned, shoving me toward the bedroom. “Unless you think he's going to get you something special? Should we leave your options open?”

“Oh god, he better not… Nah, he wouldn't. The only reason I let him buy the dress was because I couldn't afford to do it myself, he knows that.”

“... Girl, you are the only person I know who could be handed a golden opportunity to be a sugar baby and wouldn't take it. What is wrong with you? Do you like the diner that much?”

She helped me out of the dress, hanging it back up and zipping the garment bag around it while I found some casual clothes to wear. “Not particularly, but I do like my independence. I do like knowing that if something went wrong I would still be able to take care of myself. And I definitely like knowing that I'm not relying on a man I've known for less than a year to pay my rent.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Ok, but … what if you guys got married? Would you let him pay the rent then?”

“In that highly unlikely scenario? Sure, why not?” We kicked our shoes on and headed down toward the bus stop.

“What do you mean ‘unlikely’?”

“... He's who he is, and I'm who I am. … I love him, Stella. I think I probably would marry him if he asked, but honestly, … sometimes I still wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. I mean, come on; he is so hot-”

She groaned her approval; “indeed~”

“-and sweet, and clever, I just … what on earth does he see in me??” I sighed softly, fidgeting with the strap of my purse.

“Um, hello? Beautiful, smart, kind, generous, creative; gee, I wonder what he could possibly like about you!” She smacked the back of my head gently; “do I need to shout your many excellent qualities to the whole street? Cause I fucking will!”

I snickered, shoving her off of me. “Ok, ok! Yes, I have many good qualities. But still, we don't exactly make sense together; he's a Wayne, he could have anything and anyone he wants, and I'm-”

“What he wants.”

“-broke, the fact that we met at all makes no sense.”

“Yes, thank god for the weird pushy brothers, we must remember to include them in our prayers.” She rolled her eyes affectionately as the bus pulled up and we got on.

“He is built like Hercules-”

“And you're built like Aphrodite - thick thighs, soft squeezable curves, excellent tits.”

I snorted; “you show me the Aphrodite statue with a tummy like this, please. Stella, be real. I know I'm pretty - I'm not questioning that. I know Jason doesn't think there's anything wrong with my body, and I don't dislike my body myself. It's just … I also know what the women who are typically at these events look like. I've heard the comments my whole life, I know what people think of bigger girls, and … at a certain point it gets disheartening … I don't want to look out of place next to him.”

She pinched my cheeks between her hands, staring into my eyes. “Now you listen here; you are not allowed to be this defeatist about my best friend and her hunky boyfriend's future. Got that? Yeah, you're in totally different tax brackets, now. But you can't forget, he's the Wayne boy that got lifted out of Crime Alley. He didn't look like he belonged there at first either. Hell, maybe that's one of the things he likes about you; you're kind, and practical, and you don't care about his status.

At this point he's probably used to girls tripping over themselves to say, be, and do whatever he wants because he's a Wayne, not because they like him. We have established that this is not some convoluted college boy prank. He likes you. He's been devoted to you for months; I know because I have barely seen you - you’re always together. He wants to show you off in front of all those one-percenters at that gala. You are what he wants. Sit back and enjoy the ride, girl; stop looking for car crashes!”

Stella gave me a firm look as she released my face, and I slowly nodded; “... You feel better?”

“Much.” She grinned; “you?”

“Much.” She nodded happily and hugged me. I leaned against her, looking out the window for our stop.

Stella pulled me along to store after store, insisting I needed the proper undergarments for a gown like that, then that I should have a new perfume - “not a bath and body works body spray, a proper perfume” for special events -, then since we were already there she wanted to pick the perfect nude lip color for me. Finally, we ended up at the jewelry store. 

“Are you thinking gold or silver?” She peered into the display case.

“I don't know … maybe gold? … Nothing too expensive obviously… maybe a ruby pendant, to match the dress?”

The store clerk ignored us while we looked through the options, busying herself with something at the register. I was looking at a necklace with a gold chain and a teardrop shaped ruby pendant when she hurried over behind the counter. “Hello, Mr. Drake-Wayne! Is there anything I can help you with?”

Stella and I jumped a bit, turning to look behind us. And there was Tim, and Duke. Duke had his usual smile ready for us, but Tim simply raised an eyebrow at the associate. “... These ladies were here first.”

Her smile fell just a bit. “O- oh, of course. Um, … ladies?”

“... We're fine for now, thanks. … Hi Tim.” I chuckled softly; “have you upgraded from running background checks to actual stalking?”

Duke laughed, elbowing me playfully, and Tim groaned softly. “I'm sorry, ok?”

“I know, and I forgive you. You had to protect your family, there's nothing wrong with that. But I now have the right to tease you about it forever.”

Stella elbowed me firmly, wide eyed. “Ow! … Tim, Duke, this is Stella, Stella - Duke, and Tim.”

She grinned, holding out her hand for Duke to shake. “Hi! Wow, I can't believe I'm finally meeting a few of you!”

I chuckled softly. “Yeah, so what are you guys doing here?”

“Just hanging out, but we saw you over here and figured we should make sure you aren't looking at anything for the gala?”

“... Yeah, why?” I raised an eyebrow.

Duke grinned, shaking his head; “then stop.”

“... Jason knows I don't like him spending a bunch of money on me, and he already bought my dress…”

“Girl, get over it. It's a gala, let him get you nice things!” Stella grinned.

Tim tilted his head, frowning; “why don't you want him to spend money on you?”

“... I don't know how to explain this to you Tim. Just, … suffice it to say, Jason knows I don't want him doing that. So why should I not be looking at jewelry?”

The boys looked at each other, having some kind of silent conversation, before back to me; “... Look, just trust us? … We'll help you pick some earrings!”

Duke grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the necklaces. I followed, frowning a bit; “... Alright, but only because I trust Jay…”

Tim nodded, clearly relieved, and the boys started looking through the earring options. Stella followed along, offering her opinions as well. Finally, they had it down to a pair of earrings they insisted was perfect. Only problem was they were $500.

“Jesus Christ, Tim, what's with the bougie taste?” I sighed, setting them back down.

“What? They're perfect!”

“That's like … half my rent, rich boy!”

“... Ok, so I'll get them for you.”

“... Tim, if I don't want Jason spending this kind of money on me, what makes you think it's ok for you to?”

He shrugged; “cause I'm not going to sleep with you after?”

Duke smacked him, wide eyed; “um, dude???”

Stella blinked, not sure what to make of this, and I fixed Tim with my best ‘are you fucking serious?’ look.

“... Is the problem with Jay spending money not that it would make you feel bought and paid for?” Tim frowned, looking me over. “Huh, I'm not usually wrong ... Ok, sorry then. … I really don't understand though, what's the issue if not that?”

“... If I let him buy me too much too quickly it will start turning into a situation where I need him. If he's getting me expensive gifts, and paying my rent, and buying my groceries, how is he supposed to know that any steps we take in our relationship are because we want to take them, and not because I feel like I owe him for funding my lifestyle?”

A glimmer of understanding filled Tim's eyes, and he nodded slowly, a little grin on his face. “Ohhh, you're good. … Figure out what you want to do with your life, a brain like yours is too valuable to be wasted.”

I chuckled softly, nodding once. “I'll get right on that.”

Tim nodded. “Ok, so … let me get the earrings. Cause if I get them, we can say we're even for the whole stalking and background check thing.”

I thought for a moment. I liked having the upper hand on him, it was funny watching him squirm, but I also really did like the earrings, and they would look incredible with the dress. Plus, I wanted to look like I belonged at the gala, and these earrings would help me do that. “... Hmm … Deal. You'll buy the earrings, and I'll stop teasing you with the background check.”

He grinned and nodded, turning back to the counter and the store associate. “Alright, the lady will take these, and those matching hair pins.” He pointed to a set for $300.

“Wha- Tim???” I stared at him.

He smiled brightly; “those are my gift to you. You've been a good sport about a lot of weird shit, and … I haven't seen Jason this happy in a long time.”

“... You're not allowed to get me a Christmas present.”

He shrugged, smiling. “Ah, but you will be around for Christmas? Good.”

Next ->

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[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Mi Querida Esposa || Alejandro Vargas

For @glitterypirateduck's “Amor a Alejandro” writing challenge! I used prompt 16. "Nothing is ever simple".

Rating: G Words: 2.6K Tags: f!reader, you/your pronouns but no Y/N, Spanish terms of endearment, best friends to lovers, forced marriage (but not like THAT), friendly bickering, drinking, kissing, no smut. Summary: Alejandro's parents have been pestering him to settle down and get married. He lies that he and reader (his best-friend) are dating. The lie snowballs. a/n: I imagined that both Alejandro and reader are Mexican! Only curse words and terms of endearment are in Spanish.

a/n #2: I wrote a follow-up for this one shot: Check here

“Please, it’s just dinner!” Alejandro said as he stood in your kitchen at 6 P.M.

You had just gotten home from work, and barely had time to kick off your shoes and start on dinner when the front door to your apartment opened and your best friend came strolling in.

Not even a minute later, he was groveling (on his feet, because he’s too proud to do it on his knees) for your help.

“Are you drunk, Ale?” You ask him as you continue stirring the pasta in the boiling water so it doesn’t stick.

“No, I’m not.” He replies loudly as he gets as close to you as possible, leaning his hip on the counter next to him. “Please.” He pleads again. “It’s really simple, I promise you!” He continues.

“Simple? Ale, nothing is ever simple with you!” You retort as you use your hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’ve just asked me to marry you!” You ask him as you look up at him.

Sometimes you resent yourself for being such a good actress. It’s part of the reason why you find yourself pretending not to like Alejandro as much as you do. You swear you want to be a bit more caring and affectionate toward him… but you always end up bickering with him and giving him attitude.

“Please!” He turns you away from the pasta pot and puts both hands on your shoulders, staring at you like a deranged, desperate man. 

“Vato [dude], nobody is going to believe that we’re dating, let alone wanting to get married.” You tell him as you give him a deadpan, unconvinced look.

There was a time in the past when you would’ve bent yourself over backward for an opportunity to date (or say that you’re dating) Alejandro. But that was ages ago, a crush you have long since outgrown… Or so you think.

“Ay carajo [For fuck’s sake], they don’t have to 100% believe it! Just have to instill reasonable doubt!” He attempts to reason. “Please, flaca [skinny girl*]!” He tells you.

You shake away his hands from your shoulders and set your hands on your hips over your apron. “Why don’t you just go out and find yourself an actual girlfriend, for once?” You retort.

“This, again?” He grumbles. “I. already. told. you!” He says while slapping his right hand against his palm to punctuate his sentence. “I don’t have the time or the patience to go out and meet someone!” He groans in frustration. “I’m busy with work!”

“Ale, you’re a grown man and an Army Colonel at that.” You remind him. “You’re telling me you’re scared of telling your parents you’re focused on your career?” You add in a teasing, mocking tone.

“Oye! I’m not scared!” He denies it as he points a finger in your face. “I just wanted them to stop annoying me!” He adds as he looks away and grumbles under his breath.

“And you think lying about being in a relationship with me would make it better?” You scold him and nod your head in an act of defiance. “Your parents know me, Ale, they’ll realize that we’re not dating the moment they see us!”

“They kept pestering me to get married, loca [crazy girl], I had to lie.” He grumbles in reply as he throws his hands up and turns away. “And it did make it better!” He retorts and waves his hands in the air. “They were off my case for the last 6 months!” He adds.

“SIX MONTHS?!” You ask as your jaw drops. “You told them this SIX MONTHS AGO and didn’t think to tell me before?” You scold him. He turns to look at you like a naughty kid being lectured by his mother, his face set into a grimace. 

“What if I crossed paths with your mamá [mom] at the market, huh?!” You ask in shock as you point at yourself with both hands. “What would’ve happened then? What if someone had seen me on a date with another man?!” You add in surprise.

“But you didn’t! And I know you would’ve had my back if she started asking questions!” He adds, which causes you to glare at him angrily.

Alejandro hangs his head before taking a long, deep breath. “I’m sorry, okay?!” He ends up saying earnestly. “I just wanted them to stop acting like I’m a disgrace for being 38, single, and, allegedly, ‘miserable’!” He justified himself.

“But you are miserable and single!” You retort. As punishment, he wraps an arm around you and gives you a noogie. “Ay, puta madre [for fuck’s sake], Alejandro!” You demand as you slip away from the headlock, smacking at his arm in the process.

Alejandro takes a step toward you again and sets his hands on your shoulders once more, his eyes locked onto yours. “Please, cuata [twin/bestie].” He pleads. “Just this once.” He requests.

“Just ‘this once’? Are you serious?” You ask as you dip your head to the side, looking up at him like he’s lost his mind. “You just told me your parents invited your entire family over for dinner to celebrate our ‘engagement’ and start planning our wedding, Ale!” You remind him. “How is it going to be ‘just this once’?” You add.

“We can pretend to break up after this!” He retorts, making you sigh loudly and rub your eyes with your fingers. “Or… we can get married… for the tax benefits!” He adds, which causes you to look at him sharply, eyes widened and your hand raised to smack him.

“Okay, okay! I’m joking!” He adds while raising his hands defensively. In a lot of ways, you and Alejandro behave like siblings, always at each other’s throats… Only to turn around and have each other’s backs… like now. “Please.” He pleads again.

You take a long, deep, desperate breath and exhale sharply before turning around to strain out the water of your cooked pasta. “Fine…” You grumble under your breath. “But you owe me, big time!” You add.

“YES!” He shouts excitedly and shakes his fists in the air. “Thank you, thank you…” Alejandro says thankfully and wraps his arms around you in a bear hug which, definitely, makes you hear some bones of yours cracking.

“But!” You add, interrupting his celebration, which causes him to let go of you. “It’s only this dinner thing! And after that… in a couple of months, you’ve gotta tell them we ‘broke up’!” You demand.

“No, absolutely. I’ve already got a plan for that and everything!” Alejandro nods earnestly. “Just trust me.” He adds.

-

“I still can’t believe this.” You grumble as throw yourself onto the leather couch, which creaks as you sit. You feel exhausted. Your feet hurt, your cheeks are sore from smiling so much, you’re sweaty, your make-up is a bit messy, and you drank a bit more tequila than you should.

Alejandro sits on the leather couch beside you, rubbing his forehead and eyes with one hand while the other clutches a lowball glass of tequila. “You’ve said that 12 times now.” He grumbles.

You turn to look at him, your brow set low and your lips twisted into a pursed scowl. “And I’ll keep saying it!” You exclaim. “Because I can’t. believe. this.” You add.

Alejandro looks up at you before shooting the tequila shot in his chilled glass. “You’re the one that let our mamás talk you into this.” He retorts.

“Shut up.” You grumble defensively as you shuffle over, the gown rustling as you slide closer to him. He fills the glass with another double shot of Don Julio, and this time hands it over to you, which you take, gladly.

For the last 3 months since that dinner party at Alejandro’s parents’ house, you’ve dreaded this moment… The wedding itself, sure, but the moments after, the days after… When you’ve been freshly married and have to move in together and have all those changes to your routine…

But, right now, the dread is mostly gone. You could probably blame it on the tequila and the culmination of the stress, but right now, it almost feels… relieving to be here, in this hotel room, with your best friend/husband.

“That suit makes it look like you’re going to meet the President.” You grumble after taking a sip of your drink, your eyes set on his formal dress uniform. It’s your first time seeing him in his dress blues… He looks nice.

The suit itself is a dark teal blue-adjacent color, and he has a ridiculous amount of medals over his left breast, which you almost mocked him for, before biting your tongue, knowing they’re important to him. 

The green beret with the Fuerzas Especiales insignia, which he wore for the better part of the day, sits on his lap. His suit jacket is unbuttoned and so are the top buttons of his white button-up, revealing his white undershirt and the gold crucifix necklace he always wears.

“And you look like you’re celebrating your quinceñera. Why would you pick such a poofy dress?” He retorts with a raised brow while leaning back on the couch and crossing his ankle over his knee. His eyes are glued to the ball gown wedding dress you’re wearing.

“I was already being forced to marry you, I was going to enjoy what little I could. I wanted to feel like a princess.” You reply and shoot him an annoyed look. Alejandro’s arm slowly slips onto the back of the couch, resting it there, behind you.

“Excuses.” He says dismissively and smirks playfully at you. “You wanted a dress that big so you’d have a built-in way of distancing yourself from me, so I didn’t have to kiss you or dance with you.” He quips and nudges you with his elbow.

You nudge him back, the two of you bickering like little kids. “Shut up!” You complain, which makes him laugh, and so do you laugh with him. “God, we had to kiss in front of everyone…” You grumble as you knock back the rest of the tequila shot.

“You say that as if I’m some sort of disgusting monster.” He retorts, causing your tongue to click in an annoyed, dismissive way. “C’mon… You didn’t hate it all that much.” He replies.

“Pelo amor de Dios [for the love of God], shut your mouth!” You demand defensively, your whole face warming up as you remember the cheers that came upon your kiss during the ceremony… and all throughout the reception to really ‘sell’ that you two are in love. “It was weird…”

Alejandro chuckles. “Not as weird as moving in together after tonight, eh?” He quips, which causes you to groan audibly. “Hey, think about it this way… Killed two birds with one stone…” He says as he scoots closer and looks you in the eyes.

“My parents stopped pestering me about getting married, your parents stopped pestering you too…” He reminds you. “Plus, now you don't have to pay rent, and we get tax benefits and better healthcare through the Army.” He adds.

“You and your stupid benefits.” You retort. “You know, we’re only in this mess because of you.” You complain and nudge him with your elbow as you look up at him.

“I know…” Alejandro grumbles and winces away from your sharp elbow to his ribs. “You’ve made a point to remind me of this every waking moment of every day since we tried to ‘break up’ and you let my mamá talk you into ‘staying with me’.” He adds and laughs a little.

Your face contorts into a grimace and you groan loudly yet again. “Your mamá has always been very demanding and scary, okay?” You retort.

“So you understand why I lied in the first place, huh?” He adds, causing you to nudge him and smack him upside the head.

“Shut up, Ale…” You retort while he chuckles a bit, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. “The woman basically begged me to stay with you because, in her eyes, if your best friend of 10 years can’t keep you tied down, then you really are a disgrace to the Vargas family.” You tell him. “What was I supposed to do?”

Instead of groaning, he simply smiles broadly and shakes his head. “Well, mi querida esposa [my dear wife], it’s over and done with. We’re married… and she’s thrilled.” He remarks and chuckles.

For some reason, you find yourself getting a bit flustered, your face flushing a bit warmer. Something about the way he called you his wife caused your heart to race… You never gave much thought to the idea of marriage… But now that you think about it… Being called someone’s wife is strangely nice. And… being Ale’s wife? It’s even nicer. 

“Don’t remind me…” You remark in an attempt to sound disdainful, but it only ends up sounding soft and gentle. “Next thing we know, she’ll be pestering us into having grandchildren… My mamá too.” You say before groaning once more.

Alejandro’s face winces a little at the idea, but then, he breaks into a grin again, seeming playful and interested. “Groan all you want… But I’m sure you’d like the process of making them.” He quips and wags his eyebrows mischievously, earning another smack upside the head from you.

“I hate you…” You tell him playfully and shake his head, annoyed and amused at him… as usual.

“No, you don’t.” Your husband says and slowly leans closer. “You love me.” He adds playfully.

“No, I’m pretty sure I hate you.” You retort as you hold your ground, remaining in the same position.

“Hm… no. You love me.” Alejandro insists and leans closer.

Your eyes sparkle a bit. “No, I don’t.” You reply while your eyes narrow at him in a mock annoyed way.

Alejandro licks his lips and slowly rubs his nose against yours. “Yes, you do. You love me… Just like you loved kissing me after the ceremony.” He quips with that shit-eating grin of his.

Something in the air makes you feel even more flustered and you look away once more. Licking your lips too, you gulp down a breath in your throat. “Maybe...” You end up admitting.

Alejandro’s smirk grows bigger. “It’s okay.” He assures you with a nod. “I didn’t mind kissing you either.” He admits, which makes your eyes widen a bit in surprise and you look back up at him.

Alejandro’s lips then brush against yours… And he presses them together into a soft, gentle kiss that, this time, doesn’t feel like a performance. It’s not a rushed little peck done only for his family, and yours, and the guests at your wedding. It’s slow and sweet, just for the two of you in this hotel room…

After a moment, Alejandro pulls away and locks eyes with you, his brown eyes softened and almost too calm… You know he’s not drunk and neither are you… And tomorrow morning, any attempts to blame this kiss on tequila are simply not going to be truthful.

You wanted to kiss each other and you did. And, in fact, you want to kiss him more.

You press your lips against his again, your hand raising to wrap around the back of his head, your fingers slipping into his black hair, tugging the strands away from their slicked-back style. His hands grab onto your waist around the bustle of your wedding dress as you both surrender to the kiss.

The moment your lips pull apart again, he leans against your ear and you hear it. “We’re going to be alright...” He murmurs reassuringly. 

You take another deep breath, allowing yourself to inhale the scent of his cologne and sweat in his body, the alcohol in his breath, and the laundry detergent in his dress blues… It’s a comforting scent. He comforts you. So you nod in agreement and Alejandro gently kisses you one more time. 

Of all people to be stuck in a sham of a marriage for both of your families’ sake… it being the man you’ve maybe harbored a crush on for a decade is not the worst of options…

End note: Although “flaca” means “skinny girl”, it has nothing to do with the reader’s actual size, most of the time. It's just a term of endearment.

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[ Amor a Alejandro Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

[wordsbymae]

Honestly I wouldn’t mind if ya did a story that was just breeding kink baby fever pregnancy centered focused 🙈 No thoughts head empty just 🌽

But I do have to ask out of your ocs who’d actually make a great father vs shitty father vs meh father? And what are some of ya ocs parental habits for raising the babies?

Hi!! Honestly I wish I was sooooo much better at smut cause that's all I would write. I'm trying to get back into writing smut but I'm really not very good at it, but I'm practising! Also i promised a fic tonight but I'm tired and my writing is shit so I'll have a red hot crack go tomorrow after work.

Ok so I'll just do out of my yandere ocs, cause they are the ones everyone is more familiar with. TW: talks about domestic abuse

Great Father goes to the Farmer for sure. Look he's got traditional (aka outdated views) but that doesn't mean he would ever disown his children. He had a really horrible childhood and he always promised himself he would do a better job as a parent then his own ever did. He is very hands on, giving his children life skills and most importantly the belief that they can overcome what life throws at them. The farmer knows how hard life is, so he tries to instil good work ethic and most of all a be good to others way of thinking. Being a helping hand is important to him.

He may not like people that much, but being someone others can rely on made him feel as though he is wanted and worthwhile when he was always told by his parent's he was not. He would unfortunately believe in boy's things and girl's things. But that doesn't mean if a son of his wants to help mama sew or a girl of his wants to help him fix the truck he's going to go crazy. No, of course not, he believes that ALL life skills, whether others believe them to be men or women jobs, need to be taught to children. So he doesn't care about division of labour based on gender.

What makes him a bit weary is if his son wants to wear florals or pinks, or if his daughter ONLY wears masculine clothes, especially if they go into town. He's just not comfortable about it. However, over time I think he just wouldn't care anymore and would only fuss if they are wearing improper clothes to work on the farm with. Likewise he wouldn't disown his children if they came out as queer, he would most likely make really cringy jokes and ask embarrassing questions and then say something like "Oh, so I can't ask my child a genuine question? Is that not politically correct now?", but like sir, please the question was embarrassing.

But yeah, once he kinda understood it he would come to terms with it and actually would be funny. Like if someone in town asks him if he's proud of his kid for coming out hell say (absolutely seriously) "why the fuck should I be proud of them coming out of the house, why do kids these days need praise for every little thing they do!". like he wouldn't understand what the phase coming out even means. Anyway on to the next!

Meh Father goes to the Mad King. The man is all bark no bite. He pretty much only wants children as heirs and also to have levrage over the reader. He's not horrible by any means, he spoils his children when they deserve it, but he also makes them understand that nothing good in life is freely given and you have to take it. But unfortunately he also causes rivalries between his children. They are desperate for any attention/praise from him that they will try to out compete one another to gain it. Often resulting in arguments and injuries.

Reader (whether they wanted children or not) has to act overly motherly and affectionate to their children to counteract his actions. There is no favouritism or stern reminders of their places as heirs, just warm, welcoming love. Also his children aren't idiots, they can all tell that their parent's did not marry for love. At least on their mother's side.

They are torn between desperately wanting their father, the king, to show them true love not just cold approval and hating him for the emotional abuse he has put their mother through. It's actually kinda sad, because he was always desperate for the attention and love of his father and now he's caused the same thing between his own children.

There is moments of affection and love but the more he see's himself or god forbid his brother in his children, he begins to be very cold and distant. The man kinda forgot that a kid is 50/50 not just 100% their mother's. That's why his youngest is his favourite, although he would never tell anyone ever. His youngest is pretty much reader cloned, looks, personality, and everything. When he looks at them he is harshly reminded what he took away from reader the day he became king.

Bad Father goes to the Killer. This man would have absolutely no fucking clue what the fuck to do. And he would not care to try. Reader (who is usually gn but for the sake of this is afab) is heartbroken when they realise they are pregnant, and Killer has no idea why they won't stop crying. And why do they keep being sick all the time. A primal part of him likes the idea of caring and providing for his darling and their children, in fact he loves it.

When he figured out reader was pregnant, he started stocking up in furs, wood, meat and cloth. He made a crib from what he remembered his little brother's to be (omg lore drop). He likes to provide, but damn does he actually hate having a child. He leaves ALL baby stuff to reader, he pretty much refuses to look after or even pick up the baby. He gives reader all the resources they need and the Killer calls it a good job done. The poor kid(s) grow up very isolated and confused. Their mama loves them with everything they have but their pa won't even acknowledge them.

Resentment grows as they do. They of course don't really understand why they are here and why their mother/parent is with killer, because it's all they have ever known. They've known nothing other than this. I can see this going either two ways. One day the oldest snaps, they are sick and tired of listening to the screams of the their father's victims. Their mother/parent tries so hard to keep them from barging out of their small shack.

The eldest faces their father, who has grown grey over the years. However, he is still a scary and strong man, and the eldest falters slightly, it's enough for the Killer to smack their eldest to the ground telling them to go back inside. Reader sees this and just loses it. They have spent a good chunk of their life under Killer's thumb. They have seen so much death and violence they have become almost immune. But to see their child being struck by the man who killed all her friends all those years ago just causes absolute rage.

Reader picks up the old shotgun that they found hidden in the attic, they were always too scared to use it, especially when the kid(s) came. But now its time. Killer doesn't stand a chance.

OR the other way is that once the kid(s) reach maturity they follow in their father's footsteps unfortunately for reader and finally get their father's approval. I like the first idea better.

Hope you liked it! I should have my home invader story out tomorrow!

[deathnguts]

This might be crazy but I think that Rabastan and Regulus’s first massive fight that set the tone for the rest of their fights as a couple was because of Bartylus. Hear me out.

So, rabastan is way older than regulus we’ve already been over this. When regulus was five years old Rabastan was graduating hogwarts, or high school if you wanna view no magic AU which we do a lot. Rabastan was also a rebellious lad who did what he wanted especially in his teens, the time when he wasn’t close with regulus yet beyond like just being regulus’ favorite person that wasn’t Sirius yknow. Speeding this up, Rabastan did not save himself for marriage like he was supposed to via traditional marriage rules he was raised with. Rabastan was 100% sexually active in his teens and his twenties because why wouldn’t he be? It’s not like anyone got pregnant why does it matter? He didn’t love regulus yet so it’s not cheating, who cares?

Fast forward to when regulus is like fifteen, him and Rabastan consider themselves a couple now just counting down the days until Regulus is legal so they can get married and oops Rabastan lets it slip that he’s not a virgin. He didn’t think it mattered and he doesn’t like lying to Regulus so he didn’t think to hold it back or keep it a shameful secret. Regulus doenst like hiding things or keeping secrets from Rabastan either so he says he isn’t either pretty easily. Suddenly Rabastan cares a little, because what the fuck did you just say? He wants details, he wants names, he wants to know what there is to know and regulus is affronted because why does it matter you said it doesn’t matter! Rabastan wants to know who and regulus says he’ll only tell if Rabastan says who his first was and Rabastan says he doesn’t know because he doesn’t it was a one night stand he doesn’t even remember the name of it didn’t matter and that breaks Regulus’s heart a little but because isn’t this supposed to be sacred and that makes Rabastan even madder because if it’s so sacred why’d you do it with someone else?! Rabastan says it’s not fair because he was a different person ten years ago, Regulus says that’s not fair because why is Rabastan allowed to just break the rules he has to follow just because he’s older, just because he was born a man.

Again, speeding it up, they give each other the silent treatment for a while. It’s easy to do with regulus in school, they just don’t write. It’s been a few months and rabastan is starting to think the fight was actually stupid because he misses regulus and he’s willing to get over it in a second if they’ll just talk again so he goes to pick regulus up from the station with that sort of thinking and- who is that.

Barty’s always been touchy with regulus, he’s always been affectionate and open with him even when they’re not romantically interested in one another because the Bartylus bond persists in every universe. They’re just close beyond belief so it’s hard not show that. Rabastan has never seen it before because well barty really only sees regulus at school while Rabastan only sees him out of it. Rabastan hates it. He hates it a lot. Is he supposed to just be fine with another man cradling his wife (not yet) like he owns her?! And barty isn’t like subtle at all, he’s like waist grabbing and burying his face in regulus’ neck, it’s a hard watch for sure.

So naturally Rabastan forgets he wasn’t angry anymore and the fight starts again immediately. Who is that? What just because you’re not a virgin you’re just close with every guy you see now? Regulus is appalled, he’s my best fucking friend if anyone’s a fucking whore it’s you you don’t even remember how many people you’ve slept with- gab gab gab they fight a lot, truth slips out, regulus admits his first time was with Barty because they’re just Like That but not like that, rabastan admits has really only slept with people he doesn’t care about before which is why he’s upset regulus has only slept with one person and he cares about them a lot and it’s not him. They’re still kinda mad because you can’t just undo anything they said or did, Rabastan asks for regulus to stop talking to Barty and regulus says no. Rabastan rolls his eyes and regulus stiffens up, he says he needs a drink and regulus says he’ll pour it and Rabastan says No I need a drink away from you and regulus says please don’t and there’s an anger in the room but it settled like a fog and it feels so thick it’s like they can’t move through it and regulus gets on his tip toes to kiss Rabastan, just missing his lips because he’s not quite tall enough even at his tallest and Rabastan sort of stews with that for a moment before bending down a little so they can kiss properly. They’re not at the hate fuck point in their relationship yet, they definitely want they’re first time together to be softer than that, but you can see the seeds of that future planted here because there’s definitely over the clothes stuff happening within the next two hours of this kiss.

But yeah, both Barty and Rabastan’s life before he loved regulus remain sore subjects for the rest of time, and are both brought up in every fight when they’re angry enough.

[ynsvnte]

And it’s all over — Park Jongseong

Genre: angst no comfort, drabble, breakup wc: 598 warnings: cheating, crying, pet names (babe, love, honey) pairing: bf!jay x gn!reader

Quick note: Jay is cheating on reader with a female and I know this man would never do this.

Event Masterlist , part two

You paced around the room waiting for him to arrive home. God, you were so nervous, your hands were sweating. You were thinking until you heard the car lock outside. Anxiety filling up your body. You head to the door and open the door for him. Wasting no time, you speak up.

“We need to talk..” your voice came out more like a whisper instead of a firm and serious one.

“About what..?” Jay asked, looking confused while taking off his shoes and setting his stuff down onto the table nearby. “About us..” you said softly, way too nervous. “Okay..?” He replied, walking away, and sitting down on the couch. Deep inside he was nervous too, but didn’t want to show it.

Lately your relationship hasn’t been the best as you both haven’t had the time for each other, and not only that, things weren’t the same as before. Like how affectionate you both used to be. That includes cuddling, hugging. You missed those feelings of his hugs. But that’s until recently you found out you wished you never did.

“So. I wanted to ask how you feel about this. Our relationship.” You asked him. Not looking up. “Why would you ask such a question..yn..of course I’m happy.”

“Well you don’t seem like it. Always barely having time for me. Your job never got in the way and all of sudden it is?” You spattered out. “Yn..look my work has gotten me a lot more stressed..”

“Yn..you never called me yn. It’s always babe, love, or honey! I swear don’t lie to me Jay, because it’s way too late..” you said trying to hold your tears in. “Lie about what..?” He asked, confused.

“Jay you know, I know there’s someone else, making you way happier than I am. Replacing me. Like I never even existed..!” Shouting. Tears streaming down your face. “And you only stayed out of pity! Why? What does this other woman have that I don’t. You weren’t like this when we started dating! Ha..I was so dumb enough to think you were the one. The one I was going to marry, grow old with. Guess not anymore..” you rante, losing your mind. “Babe..” he tried to explain. “Don’t call me that ever again..” the atmosphere was gloomy. Awkward silence filled the room. Jay didn’t know what to say. Loss for words. He couldn’t say anything; he never wanted you to feel like that. “Did you ever mean anything you said..?” Your question pulled him out of his mind. “Huh- umm..” he couldn’t answer the question. “I did. Promise” he stated. You obviously didn’t believe it.

“I never thought the one person. I loved so dearly, would ever do this, but he did..” you let your tears fall, not trying to hide the fact you’re crying. “Jay..this the last time..I’m going to say this…”

“I love you..” silence filled the room shortly after. You stand there looking at him. Red eyes and puffy face. Oh how Jay wanted to pull you into a hug, comfort you. But he knew that he could no longer, after the mistake he made, there was no going back. Going back to his first love, into the warmth. Guilt is the only thing that he feels.

You chuckled before heading towards the front door. Stopping right in front of it.

“My sister will come by tomorrow to pick my stuff up..goodbye” you said walking out not looking back.

And just like that it was over. And there was no way to fix it.

Author’s note: DONT HATE ME I WANTED TO WRITE ANGST AND THIS MY FIRST TIME!! I know Jay would NEVA do this to anyone he is too good to be like this . I hate this and it’s fucking shitty umm yeah.

© ynsvnte copyright 2023

[rosapexa]

October 21st 2081

"Can't believe you really got me a ring."

Lexa couldn't stop looking at her new wedding ring and she also couldn't stop smiling. Shit, she felt like one of those dumb girls, who never wanted anything more, than to marry their fairy tale prince. And usually she would be disgusted by those thoughts and girls.

But not today. Today she allowed herself to be such a dumb and happy girl, because she got married. She married the love of her life.

And Lexa had no idea, that this could happen when she got up in the morning. Or that she even wanted it to happen.

As usual Johnny, Lexa and of course Salem started their day with a breakfast together. It became a very important ritual to them. "Any plans for today?" Johnny asked her. "Nah, not really. You?" Johnny looked at her for a couple of seconds, took a bite from his sandwich and then, like it was the most casual thing in the world, asked: "Wanna get married?"

Lexa choked on her coffee. "Very funny, Rockerboy." Johnny just looked at her. He smiled. But it wasn't a smile, like he just told a good joke. It was more like a "Just answer the question" smile. Did he really expect an answer? A serious answer?

"Wait." Lexa was confused. "Are you... Like... serious?"

Johnny just nodded. "Yeah." Lexa still didn't know, what to think or say. "Look, Maelstrom, i love you." Johnny continued. "We will spend the rest of our lifes together anyway. And... Fuck, i can't believe myself i'm saying this, but i want you and me to be official. I want a fucking official paper, that says you're mine and i'm yours." Johnny took a deep breath and another bite. "We're not making a big deal out of it. We're just going to the courthouse, say yes, sign the papers, grab something to eat and then..." He couldn't surpress a cheeky smirk. "Wedding Night."

Lexa stared at Johnny with her mouth open. He just proposed. Kinda. And now he just continued eating his sandwich. Totally relaxed.

Mostly at least. But Lexa knew her man. Behind that smile there was more. Did he really wanted this? Was this maybe even important to him?

Lexa never thought about marriage at all, not even with Johnny. It was pointless in her eyes. Of course he was right, him and her that was forever. He knew it and she knew it. But she never wanted or needed a document that offcially said so. At least until now. But for whatever bizarre reason, now that Johnny brought it up, she had to admit it sounded pretty amazing. "His wife". Honestly the thought that she would be his wife was exciting.

Johnny's wife. Mrs Silverhand. Why the fuck did that sound so good all of a sudden?

"And?" Johnny looked at her like he tried to read her mind, because her face was probably pretty blank. "Or do you have anything better to do?" Lexa still tried to sort her thoughts. Fuck, this man was the only one who ever could leave her speechless. Even make her feel, like her brain short circuits sometimes. And this in the most affectionate way, because that was one of the reasons why she fell in love with him. No one made her feel like he did. Made her love. So... Why not?

Lexa sighed and smiled as well now. "I'm not wearing a dress though!" Johnny's smile got bigger. "And i'm not wearing a suit."

"Ok, then." Lexa got up, went around the table and kissed him. "Then let's get married."

Allthough Johnny asked her, if she wanted to get married today, Lexa didn't actually think, that he meant today. Like in "put on some clothes and let's go to the courthouse now" today. On the other hand why was she surprised. If Johnny got something in his head, he never had the patience to wait until he got it. He just went ahead. Head first through the wall, if necessary. Of course it wasn't any different this time.

So here they were now. At the courthouse. Waiting to get married. They didn't have an apointment. But Lexa covinced (as in "leave or die") another couple to reschedule their wedding, so they could have their spot.

The officiant was kinda annoyed that he had to change all his documents and plans, but just went with it. Because honestly he didn't have a choice.

Lexa and Johnny didn't make any vows and told the officiant to keep things short. They just said their "I Do" 's and signed the papers.

After all was done and Lexa wanted to turn around to leave, Johnny stopped her. "Wait. I have something for you." He searched a little bit in the pocket of his pants and then fished out a ring. A delicate silver ring made of infinity symbols.

He held his right hand out and Lexa put her left hand into his. "So, it wasn't as spontaneous as i thought?" She watched him while he put the ring on her finger. "Well, today totally spontaneous. But i have the ring since a little while." He admitted.

"Then you also now have to kiss the bride!" She pulled him close to her and kissed him long.

Until they heard the officiant clear his throat. The smile on the poor guy's face was kinda forced and it was obvious he just hoped, they would leave. Like 90% of the people, who crossed their ways.

And because it was their happy day, it way his lucky day. So they left.

And now they were sitting at one of their favorite spots in Night City. Chinese take out was their wedding feast, donuts were their wedding cake and a bottle of Tequila was... Well, for later. And it was perfect the way it was.

"You really got me a wedding ring!" Lexa was very much in love with her ring, that her husband got her. "Of course. We might be anything but traditional, but a ring for my wife is a must. And it looks good on you, Mrs Silverhand."

They both stared for a while on her ring and then just had to laugh. THEY, the Rockerboy terrorist and the Maelstrom killer, got married! THEY, the couple no one thought would last and everyone thought would end with her killing him (yeah, there were bets), got married! And they were sitting here gushing over it. Behaving like dumb fucking teenagers. But that was ok today. More than ok.

They finished their food and Johnny then got up, took the bottle and reached his hand to his wife. "So... I think it's time to go home." There it was again: That smirk. "Yeah? Any plans for tonight?" Lexa couldn't surpress a smile either. Johnny quickly kissed her hand. "Oh, a lot of plans. The whole night."

And honestly Lexa couldn't wait either to be finally alone with her husband.

[cosmicpiracy]

Despair in the hotel lounge

The concert had been over for a few moments and his head hadn’t stopped pounding. Alex stood near his wife in the hotel’s private lounge as Matt’s girlfriend loudly praised them for their performance. God, he loved to see his mate happy, but was she annoying sometimes!

Specially now, when his head was pounding and he could feel all of the contents in his stomach swirl like a devilish soup. He felt lightheaded.

“Are you alright?” He heard his wife whisper in a worried voice. “Al?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved her off. “I’m good.”

Truth is: he wasn’t good, at all. His head had started bothering him a few minutes before the concert, but he would be damned if he was gonna cancel on such a short notice. Being married to a doctor had its perks: you learn a thing or two. And one things he learned from his wife’s notes and case reports was how to use light painkillers and antiemetics to completely abolish pain and nausea. He also got those two kinds of medication from her purse, although he refused to tell her about his state and worry her when she had just flown over. Which he would start to regret halfway through, when the music became too loud and he thought he would pass out from the pain.

“Are you sure?” She pressed further, and it felt like she really was testing his patience. His concert wasn’t what he thought it was gonna be and now, his wife was worried.

Great. Wonderful. Fucking fantastic.

“God, woman, not everyone around you needs your worry all the time!”

There was a certain silence in the room, a sort of shock. Alex had never raised his voice at his wife. It was new.

“That was so uncalled for, Alex.” So was her calling him Alex.

Ever since they met, she refused to use what she deemed to be his “fame name”. It was always Al, or Alexander, or Turner. Never Alex - everyone called him that.

So he felt a pang in his chest the moment that word left her mouth, and the hurt intensified as he watched her walk towards Katie, Jamie’s wife, who looked at her with a puzzled expression before glaring daggers at him.

As time went on, his situation got worse. He was more and more lightheaded and doubted he could walk to the hotel room if he tried. Matt was talking his ear off yet he couldn’t understand a word.

And Alex deeply wanted his wife to take care of him. Moved by the idea of telling her what was going on, apologising and going upstairs, he got up to walk towards his wife.

Only to come crashing down to the floor.

“Alexander!”

“Mate!”

He could barely make out sounds or figures, but he knew his wife’s hands enough to know she was the one examining him. And telling the boys to help her carry him upstairs.

“He’s dehydrated. But his pulse is fine, it’s probably just low blood pressure or his blood sugar. Has he eaten?” She fired off, before scrunching her forehead and whispering while looking at Nick. “Has he taken any drugs?”

While Matt would hide any information he possibly could from her, she knew Jamie and Nick would never. So when Jaimie shook his head, she knew that this could be ruled off. “Good. What about his sleep schedule?”

“I wouldn’t know, Doc, I’m not a grown man’s babysitter!” Matt snickered and Alex was sure Helders had absolutely no idea what his missus looked like when infuriated, which is why when he went quiet for a second, Alex assumed she gave him the glare while they lowered him on the mattress.

“Tour’s been hectic.” Nick told her. “Al’s been working nonstop for a few days. He wanted to be free when you got here, since you are only staying till Prague.” Alexander could feel his wife’s guilt from the bed when she saw the boys off, thanking Nick and Jamie for the information, telling Matt to take it out of his arse in a playful manner.

“Al, my love, what happened?” She stroke his cheek affectionately, starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. “Can you talk? Jesus, you are sweating too much. What are you feeling?” Alex did not have the strength to say it, but pointed at his head. “Headache?” He nodded before feeling her sit him up to take off his shirt. Alex took the moment to inhale her scent from her skin, while his weakened arms held on to her when she tried to move away. “Alexander, I’m going to take off your pants.”

With a lazy smirk, he gathered all his strength to snort. “Take me out first.” His wife just rolled her eyes.

“Oh, I will, Mr. Turner.” She said. “I’ll get you some medicine and give you a hot bath for your muscles, ok? Hang on in there.”

And she did. She gave him medicine and waited, to make sure it was going to stay inside and directed him to the bath. It’s was warm, but not enough to make his skin red with the heat. Just pleasantly warm.

Alex admired his beautiful wife, her hair in a bun, her focused eyes as she stripped to her underwear, got a bottle of liquid soap and sat behind him.

“I’m sorry for being such a dickhead to you.” He sighed as she dispersed the soap on his back and squeezing his sore neck muscles in the process. “You were looking out for me and I screwed it all up.”

“C’mon, Al, we’re good. Everything is alright, love.”

“It isn’t! It really isn’t!” He was getting worked up, she could tell. After a few years together, she knew him like the medical schemes she memorised through medschool. “George told me about the horrible shifts you had been havin and the awful cases in the morgue and how you were so tired you were taking the train instead of driving and all I wanted was for you not to worry when you were here!” He sighed, and she rinsed the soap from his skin, kissing his head lightly as he winced at his own volume. “To spend your time with me and rest.”

“Al, you are too sweet!” His wife nestled her face in his neck, kissing a bit of the skin. He intertwined their fingers. “You have absolutely no idea of how good it is just to be around you. How refreshing it was to get on that plane and know I was going to be in your arms soon.” She whispered in his ear, smiling like an idiot. “Thanks for taking care of me. Really. I could just see how tired you were, and wanted to take care of you too.” She got him out of the bathtub, drying his torso sweetly. “Isn’t that what marriage is? Two people caring for one another?” He smiled as she bopped his nose before sealing their lips together.

“But-“

“No buts, Alexander. You bought the flights, I shoo away your headaches, you sing me to sleep and I shower you in all my love and affection in the morning.” She laughed lowly as they layed in bed, his head resting in her chest. “You have no concerts tomorrow, right?” He just nodded. “Then, I proclaim bedrest for you for the whole day.” He hummed and she carded her fingers through his hair lovingly. “You are sentenced to a whole day in bed with me.”

“Clothes or no clothes?”

“Your choice.”

He hummed, as if analysing his possibilities.

“No clothes it is.” He declared. “Can you sing me to sleep today, love?”

“Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you, tomorrow I’ll miss you…”

@mywritingonlyfans @ohladymoon

[rishas-pepero]

warning: overstimulation, sex, and mentions of moaning and whimpering. Minors dni !!

author's note: some of these are inspired by some blogs i found on twitter, so credits to them ! <3

genre: smut/headcannon's

Dazai Osamu ✦.˚

sfw ミ ♡ ៸៸ : : ·˚

• This dude definitely loves to annoy the fuck out of you, i swear. He could be seen literally setting up 2 chairs and 2 ropes up the ceiling before asking you to commit suicide with him for funsies.

and ofc, you'd say no in annoyance wondering why did you even marry this suicidal maniac?

• But he would make up for it by being that affectionate type he is, like giving you chaste kisses on the face and lips, would hug you from behind as an apology for annoying you

and being that fucking suicidal maniac he is

• Would most likely pout and whine at you if you ignore his affections, like pushing him away and then somehow climbing back on your lap. ( don't matter if your a girl, he'd still sit on your lap )

• After awhile of whining and convincing, you'd forgive him, which ofc makes him happy and literally give you all of his affection and attention.

like my boy would hug you so tight it would feel like he's choking you to death or kissing your face so much it feels like it's covered with his saliva from kissing it to much.

• definitely listens to music with a vinyl and dances with you like a 1990's person or whatever you call them.

nsfw ミ ♡ ៸៸ : : ·˚

• this man is definitely a sub, no switch. well, maybe 🤭

• he really likes it when you fuck him, deep in his ass, filling him up with your babies.

• this man is also definitely vocal, but oh god his moans are just.. 😩 *chef's kiss*

bro doesn't hold back i swear, if he's moaning, he's moaning, if he's whimpering, he's whimpering, he does not CARE.

• it actually doesn't matter to him if he gets noise complaints by neighbors due to how loud he is, he won't hold back if he knows you like it.

• but boy as soon as he gets overstimulated, his begging don't stop. He would beg you and beg you to stop, but you know sometimes he doesn't want to stop.

• ofc you still stop for him, after the first beg you would stop, but ofc this man is very fucking horny so he would whine and you would put it back in and there he goes crying again due to the overstimulation, but boy even with his begs you don't stop now, hell if he's dick is limp and his whole muscles stop that's where you know you'll stop now for real

• mostly ofc he loves the aftercare since your the one taking care of him, give him a nice bubble bath after being a good boy for you, give him water to settle down his fast heartbeat, and then pepper him kisses and then cuddle with him!

[magicandmundane]

Humor me for minute here, I need to scream and cry about the ballroom scene in Enchanted.

So.

For starters, Giselle and Robert are completely matching. His shirt and her dress are basically the same shade of purple, and his jacket and the cloak she wore when she walked in are the same velvet-y navy blue. They didn’t plan it. (I’m screaming.)

Side note: you know who may have planned it? Morgan. That’s right, she went shopping with Giselle, and her dad had probably shown her his fairytale-worthy fit earlier. Morgan already adored Giselle, and she could see her dad falling head over heels for the almost-princess despite his best efforts. So I’d be willing to bet good money the little shit (affectionate) did her best to influence Giselle’s choices and squealed as soon as Robert closed the door and went to the ball.

Anyway, Giselle and Edward get there, and Robert just stops. (I’m swooning.) We already know that Giselle had had a dream about Robert in that blue jacket, but do you think that he had a dream about her? Do you think that he had a dream about this fairytale princess in purple? That he woke up one morning and shook it off like it was nothing? That when he stopped and his jaw dropped at the sight of her, he suddenly remembered that beautiful dream? Because I think yes. NYC got dropped into a fairytale for a week, of course Mr. Just-Some-Guy-in-the-Real-World Robert had a dream about the love of his life.

And then that choreography. (Ugh my heart.) So beautiful, so intimate, so happy, so loving. Like every step they took they just fell deeper and deeper in love. Holy shit, that eye contact. Everyone else moving to the edges of the dance floor to give them space to just pop off. Robert whispering the lyrics of a song that was written just for the movie. “now you’re beside me and look how far we’ve come. so far, we are so close.” He had no reason to know those lyrics, just like everyone singing “That’s How You Know” had no reason to know that song and leave him constantly making a wtf face. But now the man is leaning into the fairytale. Because he loves her. (Someone just kill me already.)

Another side note: poor Nancy and Edward omg. They are witnessing what is quite possibly the most romantic ballroom dance of all time, and they were both planning to marry one of these idiots (affectionate). The matching “respectfully what the fuck” faces they both make will never not be hilarious to me, even though I feel for them.

And then there’s the quiet misery when they walk away from each other. (Cut my heart out with a rusty old spoon, why don’t you? It’ll hurt less.) Giselle and Robert are resigned to the lives they had previously chosen but no longer want. The look on her face when Narissa is handing her the apple is just gut wrenching. She would rather forget the love of her life than live without him and know he’s out there.

Last but not least, true love’s kiss. (I’m bawling.) Robert was Losing It™️ seeing Giselle inches from death, and then this idiot has the audacity to deny being her true love. But of course it’s him. “Please don’t leave me.” and “I knew it was you.” are just so so beautiful, tender, and intimate. Like that was for them and them alone, we are intruding. That kiss was so gentle and heartfelt. Then she pulls him even closer for a hug, and he cradles the back of her head. They are so relieved, they love each other so much.

Don’t even get me started on Robert’s “over my dead body,” Giselle going after the dragon, and that rooftop kiss in the rain. My poor heart just can’t take it right now.

[re-re-redline]

-Confession Headcanons: Constantine XI-

-No Spoilers For Traum-

In the main headcanons at least, it’s in the Endnote, though, and it will be highlighted in blue. So look out!

Foreword: If you haven’t read the Romance Headcanons I did for Constantine, then I advise that you do since this is a direct continuation of concepts and events that happened (or would happen may be a better phrase) in that set of headcanons. In less words, you may find yourself a bit confused. At this phase, I don’t have that many posts so scrolling through my profile shouldn’t be too much of a chore at the time of writing. But once I have more things under my belt, I’ll make a Masterlist.

That in mind, this time I’ll be going into the process of how Constantine confesses to you. It’ll start off with how Constantine plans the whole thing, how he executes the plan, and the aftermath. Now, good ol’ Redline is nobody if not someone who writes ridiculously long lists of headcanons, so all that good shit will be under the ‘Read More’ for the sake of everyone’s scrolling convenience as I have a feeling that we’re going to be here a good while.

Now, let’s get into how this pathetic bastard (affectionate) will confess to you.

Alright, post agonizing slow burn we have a Constantine who no longer has his head up his ass. Great. So, this is the part where he confesses immediately and everything’ll be all hunky dory and this list of headcanons is gonna be a short one. …Is what I would say if things were that easy.

Let me ask you something real quick. We all know that Constantine had two (2) wives, yes? Well, can anyone tell me how he proposed to them? Was it: A. He visited her home country and proposed in person and discussed the deets there, B. He spent ages writing the world’s longest letter as a proposal, or C. It just happened, fuck if I know, why are you asking me this, Redline?

If you picked any of these options then you are wrong. His first marriage with Theodora Tocco in July of 1428 happened because her uncle, Carlo I, got his ass beat by Constantine’s older brother, John VIII, and had to give up some of his territories along with marrying his niece off to Constantine to seal the deal. Micheal had jack all to do with this aside from helping his brother take Mystras and beat up Carlo.

His second marriage with Caterina Gattilusio in 1440 was the result of his wingman George doing the negotiations. The only part Constantine played in that whole thing was deciding on who he was going to marry.

Now why am I telling you this? I’m telling you this to inform you that Constantine has virtually zero experience in this field. He had John and George pull it off for him and even then the marriages were political in nature so there likely wasn’t any feelings to confess in the first place. Now, he may have grown feelings for his wives during their short time together but honestly, we have no idea. So it’s safe to err on the side that he’s got nothin’ since it does not require proof of any kind to hold this position.

This means that it isn’t a stretch to say that Constantine has no idea what he’s supposed to do or how he’s supposed to go about this. The only confessions this man has probably ever made were at church and even then it’s unlikely that he poured his heart out to whoever was listening on the other end thanks to how clammed up he is in regards to his own feelings, so this is new territory to say the least.

Yes, yes. He does know that a confession of one’s romantic feelings for another person is basically at its core just saying “I love you.” But HOW does one say “I love you?” It’s not that simple. It can’t be that simple. Constantine already feels pretty bad for being an idiot and making you put so much time and effort into romancing him, so he can’t in good conscience just give a plain old confession and leave it at that. It needs to be something more. It has to live up to your expectations and then some. It has to be perfect.

…And that kind of thinking is why this is going to be much harder than it needs to be.

The Planning Phase:

Instead of getting stuck on the words he’s going to say as that will certainly leave him hopelessly chained to his desk for far too long, Constantine decides to plan everything else first to be efficient. Namely: the time of the act, the location of the act, how he’ll get you into position alone without cluing you into his true intentions, and countermeasures for if things don’t go as planned.

…If this sounds to you like he’s planning your assassination then you aren’t too far off the mark concerning the angle he’s attacking this from, no pun intended. Constantine is framing this alien situation in a way that’s closer to the ballpark he’s more familiar with: violence. You may find this rather easy to forget and I don’t blame you for it, but this man is from the 1400s and his bread and butter is military affairs. Not a slight to his ruling capabilities, but Constantine is said to be a soldier at heart. We already know that Constantine not only has zero experience in the way of romance but also hasn’t exactly been one to make such direct statements about how he really feels. So it isn’t unreasonable to say that he would frame the issue in a way he can comfortably work with, it’s just that this angle only makes sense to Constantine and anyone who isn’t him looking at his notes would think he’s genuinely trying to end you. Which is NOT the case.

Anyways, let’s get into how Micheal plans what time he should kill you. Ideally, this should take place at a time where there aren’t many people out and about but he also has to account for the victim’s schedule so as to not make this seem like a premeditated action with a defined purpose. It has to look natural and based on a simple whim. It has to look like an accident. After he goes through what he already knows about you—whether you’re a night owl, a morning person or neither—he picks his time and hinges the rest of his plan on the chosen timeframe. The location must be open within the timeframe and it must be normal or at least not unreasonable for people to be there at the chosen timeframe. Ah, but it can’t be when there’s too many people and it can’t be when you’re likely to get called for something either. It’s a delicate balance to be sure but trust the emperor here. He’s got it in the bag now that he has this framed in a way he understands and excels in.

With the time chosen, the location is next on the dock. The ‘where’ of it all should be a location that, ideally, is large enough for him to comfortably steer you away from any potential witnesses or unwanted third parties and has the adequate cover to obscure the both of you to, again, keep away witnesses. It can’t be a place where it’d be strange for a group of people to be based on the chosen timeframe and the nature of the location. There’s plenty of choices no doubt, so let’s rule out a couple obvious locations that wouldn’t fit the bill.

Your Room. One would think this would be the ideal location. There isn’t a need to worry about third parties since this is a personal dormitory for one singular person: meaning that more likely than not, it’d just be you in there. Plus time is not that much of a concern since it isn’t necessarily strange for a person to say, be up at midnight in their own room. And this would be the premier location for the crime—er, confession had it not been for one thing. Servants have a strange and frankly rude tendency to barge into your room for literally any reason. Everything from having a strange dream to stubbing their toe is on the table for reasons to open the door and walk-in. Hell, he’s even heard of someone just walking in and sleeping on your bed without even asking first. With such ridiculous and wholly unpredictable occurrences being the norm, calling this location ‘unsuitable’ would be an understatement. Your room should be a potential contingency for terrible luck at best.

The Cafeteria. Hiding in plain sight is the name of the game for this one. The ideal timing would be during either breakfast, lunch, or dinner to reap the main benefit this location offers. The room would be filled to the brim with people conversing on and on at their respective tables, meaning that no one would actually be paying attention to him or looking for him at all as they’d be too focused on their own food and chats with others. It’s the perfect cover so long as no strange physical actions or particularly loud statements are being made. Not a problem for someone as naturally low-key and conspicuous as Constantine XI. The only variable he’d have to account for is your reaction. …At least that would be the only variable in a vacuum. The problem once again has something to do with you. You are the master of nearly every single servant in Chaldea. You are the first person they meet and your bond with them is tight from the word go. You are, in no uncertain terms, everyone’s friend. And that begets a variation of the previous problem: people being inclined to walk up to you for literally any reason. The ‘in plain sight’ buff that this location boasts only really works if both parties involved have the same level of notoriety as your average Joe or Jane Doe. If you saw Keanu Reeves, Marilyn Monroe, or Wendy Carlos sitting down to eat at your local burger joint wouldn’t you walk up to them to say a few words? Even if you’re not the type, the same can’t be said for everyone else. You are, as the Master of Chaldea, famous in a strange way and that fame brings with it many, many people in public spaces.

Your notoriety is the problem that rules out several locations and forces Constantine to—in general—get a bit creative. This is and should be a private affair between two parties, no more and no less. …Ah, but I should mention now, as I see the proverbial written corner in the distance, that I can only keep this vague façade up for only so long. I can only generally make passing comments about the details of this plan for so long. Constantine’s plan is based on what he knows about you as a person and thus the brass tacks ultimately comes down to exactly that. So, in the spirit of staying detailed, I’m apologizing in advance and politely asking you to step into the shoes of a slightly defined person. I hope you don’t mind.

Picture yourself a morning person. A morning person who isn’t one to hang outside of their room during non-work hours because you’re just that tired from running around farming all day, and that exhaustion sticks around even when you wake up in the morning. The timing in this scenario would be—obviously—bright and early in the morning and the location would be in the library when it first opens. The library has plenty of cover in the form of its several floors and towering bookshelves, giving it a good sense of privacy. With the timing being early in the morning, Constantine won’t have to worry about making it before closing time nor about witnesses since—while there are presumably a good amount of morning people—not many would just head to the library first thing. Plus, the library isn’t a place where you’d be inclined to refuse since it’s a low energy type of location with rather simple activities to do there, y’know like reading or watching old educational films. It’s perfect.

See how the brass tacks of knowing you fits into things? There are several different answers and plans Micheal could cook up based off of surface level info—just imagine if I painted a full person instead of a tabula rasa with a small wash. We could be here for hours. Our boi has definitely been writing for that long and then some with the several crumpled up paper balls in his trash bin of scrapped locations and times, the sorta-kinda accurate maps drawn from memory with lil’ X’s indicating potential positions and notes on the pros and cons of them. This is some serious business, you know?

Getting back on track with generally describing the planning process, let’s talk about how he’s going to get you alone without you catching on. Most of it is just him keeping his composure and acting natural, any excuse will work so long as he doesn’t give anything away. Besides, it’s not THAT hard to get you to hang out with him anyways. You’ve been hanging out with him for ages at this point (because the whole romance thing wouldn’t have happened otherwise), so just asking for your time and saying something along the lines of “I just felt like hanging out with you” if you ask why will do the trick. I mean, what are you gonna do? Interrogate him? Why? You’d have zero reason to since—from your perspective—there isn’t any reason to suspect an ulterior motive. As long as he doesn’t visibly panic or fumble his lines, everything will be fine.

That’s how he gets you to follow him to the location, as for how he gets you away from witnesses…Well, we’d have to get into brass tacks again. Please recall the previous example. Early in the morning, library. This one is actually pretty simple. Lure you to the film room, quietly lock the door behind him and go in for the kill. Easy. You’ll be bleeding out before you know it!

Now. You may have noticed the words ‘pre-planned conversation.’ Yes, the man is planning and leading the conversation you’re going to have with him and is planning on having at least 15 different backups in case the conversation veers into the wrong direction. The last thing Micheal wants is for you to say something like “Man, that mochi Muramasa made a while ago really hit the spot. Hey, actually, let’s stop by and see what he’s making today!” and you head in a completely different direction, throwing the entire plan out of whack. He’s also going to write a script for his confession, but that’s a brand new animal to be studied after…

The countermeasures. The old adages: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong” and “If it simply cannot go wrong, then it will anyways” are words Constantine lives by. Considering the nature of the universe this is taking place in, the scope of how things can go wrong is much, MUCH larger than you think it is. So. Let’s get into the most riveting ways that things could go horribly wrong.

The Apocalypse (Again):

It’s highly unlikely that an apocalypse could occur considering the state of the earth at the moment, but honestly. When have constraints like these ever stopped anyone from pulling insane shit ever? Maybe there’s a new Beast that slipped under the radar and has decided that now—just when Constantine decides to shoot his shot—NOW is the time to I dunno, evaporate the earth, atom by atom, with a black hole or something.

There isn’t much that can feasibly be done by our friend here. It is the apocalypse and he is, at the day’s end, just a man. So, the ‘countermeasure’ is really just postponing the execution and waiting for things to cool down before striking again.

Assassins:

Not the class, but actual assassins that are trying to kill you. One may think that it’s next to impossible for anyone to break in unnoticed, but if Koyanskaya can poison a cake (Lostbelt 3) without anyone noticing then enemy assassins breaking in to kill you is a possibility. It’s low, but the percentage is nonzero.

That in mind, the solution is just to kill them. Easiest decision he’s ever made. The difficulty comes in with HOW he’s going to kill them. You getting involved is a distraction that could potentially lead to you calling for backup and boom! Him getting you alone will be much more difficult since he has to get these people away from you without cluing them in on the plan. It’d be nice to be able to assume that everyone would dip after the job gets done, but there’s always that nonzero chance that even one could just so happen to ask to join. So really, it’s best that you are unaware of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

Constantine’s planning would hit a dead end here since the hypothetical assassins in this situation could appear at any point between him getting you to the location and him exiting the location and parting ways with you, hell, the hypothetical assassins could strike literally the moment he turns away. This means that, instead of planning a kajillion different ways to stop hypothetical assassins from killing you at various different points, Constantine would rather rely on his quick thinking and flexibility to resolve the issue.

If this frankly absurd scenario were to come to pass, then it’d end up being like that scene in The Amazing Spider Man 1 with Stan Lee jamming to some classical, completely oblivious to Spider-Man fighting The Lizard behind him with the room getting totaled in the process. It’d be hilarious, so much so that I’d recommend turning right back around and pretending like nothing’s happening for the sake of the bit if you end up seeing it.

That Asshole Sultan is Meddling Yet Again:

Ooh, you just know that Constantine’s fuming while drafting this section in his notes. From his perspective, Mehmed has been doing nothing but flirting and trying to steal you away from him. Hell, he even had the audacity to slip a letter—wax seal and all—under his door, written in Byzantine Greek that basically said “You know you can come to me for advice on romancing Master, right? I have a lot of experience in the field of romantic affairs so—” and the letter was promptly torn to shreds and burned. Who does he think he is?! And just what is he playing at here?! It’s almost like Mehmed is trying to seriously help Constantine here and is being sincere for once! Hah, as if that’d happen in a million years. Don’t worry Mehmed, you’ll get him next time.

If Constantine is unlucky enough to catch Mehmed on the way to the planned location then he’ll straight up just turn around and cook up an excuse to take a different route there. Maybe he forgot something, maybe he wanted to get a snack from the vending machine; whatever the excuse, he’s going to avoid Mehmed at all costs and is crossing his fingers that Mehmed didn’t notice the two of you.

If the sultan does notice, then that iconic yet infuriating smirk will crawl onto his lips as he saunters over to the two of you. And the moment he speaks to you, the whole thing goes bust. Mehmed is an unpredictable variable of the highest order and Constantine wouldn’t be shocked if Mehmed was some sort of plant who’s sole purpose in life is to piss him off and ruin his plans. There’s no telling how Mehmed will derail the whole thing or how salvageable the situation will be after the fact, so the best countermeasure is more preventative than anything. Head on a swivel, eyes peeled and fully prepped to make a 180º turn to a different route. If that fails, then Micheal will save it for another time.

Enemy Love Interest:

While this concept warrants its own list of headcanons, for the sake of this exercise I’ll skip to the end so to speak. Off the bat, I’d like to start by saying that I believe that Constantine would have noticed way early in the game if someone was pining for you. He may not have any real romantic experience, but he’s not dense. He can read people fairly well and he’s heard George gush about his wife enough to know what a person in love looks like. At this phase in the game, Constantine isn’t as worried as one may think. In fact, he’s pretty confident. You were the one to go out of your way to stick around him no matter how purposely stiff and awkward he was being. You were the one who tracked him to the most obscure places in Chaldea to hang out with him specifically. You were the one who put up with playing 4D Chess and Chinese Checkers because you knew that he liked those games. It’s safe to say that you do like him that way and the enemy has nothing on him. Constantine already has your heart and he knows it, he also knows that it’s highly unlikely that his opponent will change your mind if they do confess. So their really isn’t a reason to be hasty about it.

The solution is to simply go in for the kill, he’ll shoot his shot with you and that’ll be that. His opponent who, for as long as this has been going on for, has done jack all to sway you onto their side. There is no tangible threat here, there is nothing to be worried about. The only reason Micheal feels compelled to move fast is because he feels bad for making you wait. The opps can do as they please but it will amount to nothing in the end. And if they keep trying after Constantine confesses…well, let’s just say that the devil doesn’t hold a candle to a legitimately angry Micheal and leave it at that, ‘kay?

…Whew. That was a lot of words, huh? Well fortunately—or unfortunately depending on your perspective—we’re only halfway through. We still have Constantine writing what he’s gonna say and the execution of his plan. So strap in because I’m not letting you leave just yet!

The Scripting Phase:

This is the definitive hard part for our friend here. He can no longer frame this as something he’s vaguely familiar with, now he has to actually tackle this alien issue as it is for what it is. A matter of opening the door and proudly showing what is inside, as all people do. For a man drenched in denial and secrecy, to call this daunting would be an understatement.

After some deliberation and tossing a ball at the wall for about an hour, Constantine manages to break this task down into smaller pieces. In order for one to confess one’s feelings, one must know how one feels about the other person. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a confession in the first place. It is from putting words to the sensations felt by one for another that a confession would bloom naturally in one’s mind as an explanation for red faces and bashful words. That is what a confession is at it’s heart, no? An explanation for behavior that serves as an admission of romantic feelings.

Constantine sighs, he’s getting ahead of himself here. Simplify it into a few words. Understand feelings, define feelings, ruminate on now defined feelings -> write down thoughts, refine thoughts = Confession.

Seems, at its surface, simple enough. Self introspection is something that Constantine is familiar with, something he knew well from life and knows still after death. Close ‘friends’ they are to this day, meeting clandestinely when sleep runs late and distractions flaking when needed most. Yet here and now, in the sanctuary of his room, Constantine calls for an emergency meeting. Thus begins a long undefined period of intensive pondering.

He rises from his seat and lays down on the rug, its soft yarn soothing the aches in his spine from hunching over his desk for the past couple days. He closes his eyes. Start from the fundamentals, understand them, and the rest will follow.

The first question that must be answered is: “what are his feelings concerning you?” Admiration, something that is considered platonic at its base, is the first feeling that comes to mind. He doesn’t care, anything to get the ball rolling is good enough at this point.

To be plucked from normalcy into the world of the strange and mystical is something that most would buckle under the pressure from. Coupling that with the responsibilities that come with being humanity’s last hope makes for an ordeal that only few can truly stomach and even fewer can thrive in. Your rise to the occasion and continuance to persist with your goals in spite of the weight on your shoulders is deserving of high praise in Constantine’s eyes. But what deserves even higher praise is how true to yourself you’ve been throughout this journey, something that begets tinges of envy in the former emperor.

Tragedy after tragedy has befallen you and your comrades with parting words as common as their opposites, yet even with this awful state of affairs being your undeniable reality, you still have tears to shed each and every time. As tender as it was the day you set foot in Chaldea, your heart hasn’t changed one bit. No callouses, no scabs or scales; simply a raw, colorful mass in your chest beating and bleeding as it does, uninterrupted and unchanging. You’ve matured, became more knowledgable and wise but those changes have not brought the frigid chill that desaturates the lives of many. You’re still you. Kind, heartfelt, and honest you. This is a fact. A fact that Constantine can’t help but envy.

To be true to himself and to be honest about his feelings—to remove the hardened paper covering the tender heart shaped thing in his chest would undeniably be a show of weakness. Something an emperor cannot afford, no matter the era. He is supposed to be the paragon of strength and resilience, wise beyond his years and unflinching for his empire. He is the face of it and is often one of the first things thought of in relation to it. He is the person often attributed to its achievements and its failures. To show weakness would be not only an invitation for invaders, but an insult to everything his empire and people stand for. So he swathes himself in denial and lies to mask the truth of his composition, in hopes of one day being the man he’s supposed to be. When that day comes, he’ll be true to ‘himself’ and the loathing will come to an end. But for now, he’ll play the role he covets and stand at your side, envious yet admiring.

The second feeling that comes to mind is peace. The whiplash from distinctly recalling his cracked ribs, sprained wrist and the blood blinding his eyes to the calm of the present era was immense. Your nonchalance concerning the state of the world, however, hit him harder. It took a long time to get used to your calm disposition and it was in large part spending time with you that made the initial tension dissipate. The grand majority of your time with him was not spent conducting exercises or sorties into the battlefield, but rather recreational activities and dealing with the week’s Wacky Incident™ when it occurred. Somehow he found himself playing checkers with you weekly and somehow he found himself holed up with you in his room late at night to help you with the history homework Mehmed II tossed your way. It was a normalcy that was odd for the current state of affairs, but not unwelcome—no, it was sorely missed for the former emperor. When was the last time he had played checkers? Before his coronation…? No, maybe further back? Either way, to have these moments as a constant rather than a fleeting dream was perhaps the greatest gift you could have given.

This is not Rome and it never will be, his family is gone and so are all the people who knew him personally, yet while those things sting tremendously…it doesn’t hurt nearly as much when he’s with you. Your smile, your gentle fleeting touch, your eccentricities or perhaps lack there of, the conversations you two have had; they’re something akin to a campfire. Bright, beautiful, and most notably…

Warm is the word that comes to mind. Ever since he materialized in this paper colored world, he was cold. A fact that he didn’t quite register until he held your hand in his one day. Ever since then, he longed for warmth. Blankets, mittens, and jackets—they all served their purpose nicely, but that was all. They provided nothing more than an artificial way to retain the little heat his body gave. But even so, Constantine yearned for something more.

Another time, you hugged him. At its face it was nothing special, simply a gesture of gratitude for aiding you in getting out of having to do extra push-ups. The moment lasted for less than a minute, yet it’s presence lingered for long after. Through his extra layers, the blazer and waistcoat, he could feel it. Warmth, but of a different kind. It was something much more full and hearty, intense. It was you and it was overwhelming for the short duration that it happened, a burning sensation. What lingered thereafter kept the all too familiar chill at bay, and Constantine couldn’t help but feel bereft upon its disappearance. He wanted more.

Not too long after, Constantine found himself with burns from you again. But this time was different, you hadn’t even laid a finger on him. It was a discussion shared in his room. You had come to drop off a letter from Don Quixote but ended up sticking around for longer than intended. A point of interest on the walls. A single acrylic tile containing various flowers sat above his bed. At the time, his room wasn’t fully decorated nor nearly as organized as it is today, thus casting a spotlight on the lonesome, colorful square. You inquired about where it came from to which he happily explained. The flowers came from several people at several different points in time for several different reasons. The roses were from Nero as gift for helping her put together a concert, the chrysanthemums were from Miss Crane for New Year’s, the dandelions were from Paris and Asterios—so on and so forth. The conversation then turned into how the tile came to be, the trials and tribulations of creating something of this nature for the first time. He paused midway through after not hearing you respond for some time to check on you, only to have your visage set him aflame. Your expression at that point in time was unforgettable, something he’d think back to frequently. Your eyes shimmered with curiosity and attentiveness, your lips curled into a small smile—both zeroed in on him and him only. You hadn’t once spaced out during his, admittedly, long winded explanation and it showed in the way you were patiently waiting for him to continue. The burning sensation left him stunned, so much so that he almost didn’t catch you asking if he was alright. He managed to catch his breath and continued his explanation once more, his face several degrees hotter than normal.

With the raises in temperature you brought lay the signs of something under the surface. Something that Constantine had been ignoring just fine until one innocuous look backwards in time. Constant thoughts of you, wondering when you two will hang out again and being excited at the prospect, noticing things you’d like or would need and the subsequent desire to give them to you, the warmth he feels because of you…They all pointed to a disturbing conclusion. One that made him reject his feelings down to the very circumstances of their existence.

Then he felt cold.

Constantine opens his eyes. Admiration, a touch of envy, peace and warmth: these are the most notable feelings that Constantine feels around you. The second one, for obvious reasons, should be omitted from his confession. Admiration feels too platonic, too general—not romantic enough. Peace and warmth are what’s left.

To explain even a fraction—an iota, even—of the peace you have brought him during his materialization would require opening another door and showing what is inside that one as well. That prospect is less than pleasing as what lies within is not only unimportant to who he is now, but would most likely change your perception of him for the worse. To shatter his current veneer could quite possibly sour your taste of him, leaving an unsatisfying conclusion to the months of frigid misery he had carelessly inflicted on you and himself. It’d give you a strong reason to give him exactly what he ‘desired’ at the start of this mess.

No. No, it’s far to risky to make an opening like that. He can’t make a play like this at such a critical moment, it could ruin everything. It’s not…It’s not integral for you to know. It’s just supplementary information, stuff you can infer based off of the events that took place in his lifetime. He doesn’t have to confirm anything, not for now at least. It’s best to leave this be for another time.

What remains is warmth, something he has no qualms speaking of. The only thing to be weary of is to not sound like a madman or a wraith when he does. It’s very clearly romantic both as a concept and as a feeling. Only you have brought his temperature up like this and so consistently too.

The importance of the time when you held his hand and the time you hugged him could be attributed to his lack of touching people in general, that he will readily concede. It’s a strange thing to not only invade another person’s space but to go so far as to touch them as well. Why would someone do that? Is it to check if they’re real? Or is there simply no reason at all? Does there have to be? It’s weird. It’s a weird thing to think about. And it is also a divergence from the topic at hand. Constantine squints, trying to find his original train of thought.

Ah, right. Warm. That is how you make him feel. This should be the focus of his confession. He could add tiny bits of prose on how cute you are, but ultimately no more. The objective of this task is to—in written form—rip his heart out and serve it to you on a silver platter, not his eyes. It would be nothing short of superficial and insulting to the complex and charming sort of person you are. And Constantine would much rather snap his own wrist off than to give you the impression that he not only sees you on the surface level, but desires you that much too. He could wax poetical all day and night about how he could look at you forever or something but it’s just a nice bagatelle in comparison to the bigger picture here. Really, if one day your skin melted off and your hair went with it, so long as you carry your same warmth and remained yourself, then Constantine would love you all the same. It’s just a minor difference at the end of the day.

A hand slaps his cheek, it’s his own. This line of thinking will certainly lead to places too dark for the task at hand here, so he pivots and walks back a little bit of the way he came. …Right here should be good. Yes, this is where he’ll start.

Constantine gets up off the floor, sits back at his desk and begins writing. It starts off as disjointed paragraphs with only a barely tangible through-line but as time goes on, it becomes more coherent. More…straightforward. No more beating around the bush, no more forcing you to have to guess his thoughts and feelings; just clear and direct statements.

To have let you stumble in the dark looking for him while he sat curled up in a ball nervously peering at you through the gaps in his fingers is something he regrets deeply. How many bruises have you sustained from bumping into things unseen? How many times have you tripped and fallen over your own shoes? He couldn’t put a number to it even if he tried, not that he wants to anyways. It already hurts knowing that he put you through this unbearable limbo without even stopping to consider your feelings, imagining your pain through it all would only make his eyes sting.

So he writes and he writes and he writes and he writes—draft after draft after draft after draft with minor changes in between. There can’t be any misunderstandings here, so he continues ironing out even the tiniest of wrinkles in the fabric. The process is quite time consuming, so while we ‘wait’ for him to finish, I’ll answer some questions you might be having.

“If Constantine was so utterly lost at the beginning, then why didn’t he watch romance movies or read some romantic novels? Surely those would’ve gotten the gears in his head turning faster than making up an assassination plan and the subsequent marinating in his own thoughts.” And you’d be correct, it would have sped the process up significantly if Constantine simply took notes from various romantic media. But with that comes the potential for confusion.

At the beginning, Constantine only had a vague understanding of what he felt for you as result of the heavy mental censoring and retconning he subjected himself to in the early phase. His feelings at that point were an undefined, multicolored and shapeless thing that he just knew was love. So, if he were to just study fiction’s romance and shape his confession around that, he’d be left with various words that don’t fit quite well with his actual feelings. They’re not necessarily wrong, they’re just… The definition is… I-It’s actually…AGH! It’d either lead him down the path that he has already taken or cause him to use those words anyways in a janky mess based off what he’d think you’d want and what is commonly accepted. It wouldn’t be sincere. It wouldn’t be enough and he knows it.

“With all the writing he’s doing, wouldn’t it be easier to just send out his script as a letter? He could just skip the whole plan and rest easy knowing that he doesn’t have to worry about holding his composure or fucking up his lines and stuff.” And you know what? You’d be correct on that count as well. It WOULD be so much easier if Constantine just converted his draft into a letter and slipped it under your door someday. It WOULD be less hard on him to hide away from seeing your initial reaction. But you know what else this method is? Cowardly. It’s a coward’s way of confessing his feelings.

Constantine already uses several negative adjectives to describe himself: selfish, good-for-nothing, unfit, undeserving, weak—the list goes on. But one he will never ever apply to himself is coward. He’s the guy who stayed in his crumbling empire, ripped off the one thing that id’d him as himself and rushed into battle—not as himself—but as just some dude and died fighting for what he believed in as just some dude. He could have ran to the Morea then—hell, he could’ve ran years before the siege. But that would have meant forsaking everything he cared about, and that was something he couldn’t bare. This scenario is infinitely less intense and arguably less important, but is still deserving of that same attitude, that same passion. So no, he’s not going to chicken out of confessing in person and that’s based on principle.

The other reason is that you deserve better than just a simple letter. He, again, really regrets putting you through what he did and wants to make up for it. And being a coward is a terrible first step in that direction. This confession has to be something special, something that will stand out in your memories for years to come and act as a satisfying resolution to the struggles of these past few months. This confession needs to be something more than what it is. It has to live up to your expectations and then some. It has to be perfect. Constantine refuses to start with anything less.

Oh, hey. Would you look at that? Constantine’s finished writing his final draft. Let’s see here… It’s number… Fifty-three. Yeesh, I can’t imagine writing that many drafts since I mostly do everything in one doc and rewrite everything as I reread it. But I guess this is just a testament to how serious he is about this, huh? Fifty-three drafts, the first starting off a stream of consciousness and drastically changing until the last twenty which only had a few words replaced between them. Really, the only way you’d notice the changes is if you had the whole thing memorized beforehand. In his mind, a single word could change the meaning of the entire paragraph, so somewhere in the middle of this he got up to grab the dictionary and thesaurus from his bookshelf to just be sure. It’s not enough to know the general vibe of a word, you gotta know the definition too.

Contrary to the planning of how he’ll ‘kill you,’ Constantine hasn’t thrown away any of his papers. Not a single draft has been crumpled and sent to the graveyard next to the mahogany structure he writes on. The reason for this being is that these drafts symbolize his growth. Before this mess, Constantine wouldn’t have even given the idea of confessing anything to anyone—you especially—a glance, let alone writing his thoughts down at all. Writing these drafts was nothing short of monumental for our friend here, so he elects to keep them within the locked drawer of his desk for safe keeping. A memento of his first step in the right direction.

Someday, in the distant future, he’ll show them to you. He’ll read each draft one by one to you and you’ll both look back at this point in time with joyful nostalgia.

But that era does not exist yet, so I’ll leave it at that.

What comes after the final draft and a long break outside of his room is practice. The repetitive process of repeating the same set of words over and over again is intensely dull, so there isn’t much to be added here. Just know that he’s practicing a lot to make sure he won’t fumble his lines. Oh and he’s also going over the conversation he’s going to have with you on the way to the location where he’ll confess. But all that was in the previous phase, so I don’t need to repeat myself here.

After practicing a lot and feeling comfortable with the material, Constantine decides that it’s time to go through with his plan.

A Minor Interlude:

Hey. Do you recall all the way back in the Planning Phase what I said about brass tacks? No? Ah, well I don’t necessarily blame you if you forgot since that was…what? About 5,000 words ago? Anywho, I’ll restate it here.

The Planning Phase had two sections that relied on Constantine knowing you, so I couldn’t quite continue on with the same level of detail as I normally do without applying a definition to who ‘you’ are. That was when I painted a small wash on the tabula rasa known as ‘you.’ The brass tacks in the example scenario I am going to present to you are: you’re a morning person and the confession will take place in the library, early in the morning. Why the library? Scroll back up and find out! Nothing wrong with a lil’ rereading, right?

With that in mind… Final stretch, here we go!

The Execution:

“Deep breaths… Breathe in… and breathe out… Breathe in… and breathe out…”

These are the words that the subject of our observation had been mumbling to himself for the past twenty minutes, his body trying and failing to follow his mind’s commands. He is tense and has been for longer than his time leaning against the wall in the dim reserve lights of the hallway. But his initial tension tripled the moment he attempted to set foot outside of his personal sanctuary. His legs seized up and refused to move past the doorframe, his feet were comparable in weight to blocks of lead too. Getting here was a slog to say the least, but admittedly nothing he hadn’t seen before. He had been through worse and he knows that. The oddity this time around is that the situation at hand doesn’t even hold an ember to his past experiences. So why is his body acting like it is?

He supposes that this situation, in the back of his mind, holds that weight to him personally but not objectively, if that makes any sense. Constantine XI will not die today as a result of mishandling the situation, this is a fact that cannot be denied. But it holds that same weight since the change that would come as a result of his failure is, arguably, on par with if not more terrifying than death itself. Or at least that’s what it feels like right now, even though it wouldn’t affect him much outside of his feelings. Which Constantine himself hadn’t taken much stock in until recently, mind you.

This whole thing is ridiculous from start to finish, something he is painfully aware of, but he knows he can’t deny these feelings. Doing so would put him back on the path he walked on for so long—the path that led him to create this whole mess.

It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? To just walk back to his room, or anywhere else for that matter and forget that this ever happened. He could retreat back into the safety of denial and wait for this to die its slow and agonizing death. Hide in between the lines of non-answers and excuses so that he never has to confront you directly about anything and force the responsibility of ending this onto your shoulders. The pain will subside for the two of you eventually and will be forgotten quickly after the fact, this is something Constantine was sure of at the time. But his recent introspection made him question if this was really the right method of achieving his initial goal.

There were originally two ways to go about your romantic advances in the early phase. One would’ve been to accept your feelings and the other would’ve been to reject them. Neither option was appealing. The first would have ended in your eventual demise and the second would have him snap your heart in half with his own two hands. In Constantine’s eyes there was no lesser evil between the two as they both ended in a form of misery, one by his direct action and the other by something he cannot control.

The first one couldn’t be spun in any direction to sound appealing. But perhaps he’s missing something in his views. Perhaps he has to look at things from a different perspective to find the solution. Maybe he can have his cake and eat it too.

Death comes for everyone. This is an immutable fact that no one can deny nor fight against, it’s the inevitable. With that in mind, does it really matter when that end comes for someone? Dying in 5 minutes, dying in a week, or dying in 30 years; does that really make a difference in the grand scheme of things? Under a darker worldview it doesn’t, so why should he deny his and your happiness when he clearly can’t do anything to stop your demise? So long as the short months you have with him are priceless and enriching, surely sealing your fate isn’t as much of a crime as originally thought since it was just going to happen regardless.

…As if. Death may be inevitable, but that isn’t a reason to condemn an innocent person to death for the sake of being happy. That’s not right. Nothing is worth killing you for and no amount of so-called ‘hard truths’ will ever persuade Constantine to believe that. You have an entire life left to live, cutting it short before you even see the fruits of your labor would be horribly selfish at best and demonstrably cruel at worst. To be the person that stole your happy ending would utterly crush this man’s heart to pieces. Something he knows for a fact that he can’t live with.

The only other option that remained was rejecting you, but thinking on it more made it clear at the time that he couldn’t bare that either. The undefined feelings he held for you made Constantine a little selfish, you see. He enjoyed being the person that you hung out with frequently. He enjoyed being one of the first people you came to for assistance. He enjoyed having a piece of your schedule all to himself and he enjoyed having that spot so close to your heart. Were he to kill things off here, then you would most likely begin to drift away from him and move on to greener pastures. You’d find someone else and they’d make you happy, much happier than a man who couldn’t even do the bare minimum of what was asked of him so long ago. The thought of that, much to his own confusion, brings the bitter taste of jealousy. He should be happy for you in that scenario, right? …So why didn’t he feel that way? The answer would not be found until his introspection months after.

Both options led to a form of misery, neither of which he wanted to bring upon himself or you. So what’s left? The third option, a secret option, was to not do anything at all. It sounded infinitely better than killing you or losing you.

Silence is also an answer to a question, a lackluster one to be sure but an answer nonetheless. If he simply ignored your advances, then eventually the situation would resolve itself. He could frame his inaction as ignorance and prevent the scale from moving either way simply by doing nothing. He could still be as close to you as he is and not squander his chances with you break your heart. It’s the perfect solution.

…Not.

Those few months were the most miserable he’s been since he materialized and as he stands here outside of your room, he can say with absolute certainty that he never wants to go back. It’s that reaffirmation that shakes off most of the desire to turn around and keeps his shoes planted where they are.

Constantine lets out a long sigh, reminiscing isn’t going to do him any good at this phase. He needs to be here in the now and focused on what’s to come. Nothing will change if he doesn’t. He starts from the top, and—

“…Hm?”

Constantine flinches and whips his head in the direction of where the voice came from. His eyes catch their identity, but doesn’t stick around. His gaze averts to the wall behind, stealing glances from the safety of his periphery. He knows exactly who this is.

“Oh hey, Constantine. What’re you doing at this hour?”

It’s you, clad in your pajamas with a water bottle in hand, standing in the direction of the exit. From what he could guess, you had come from the cafeteria to get some water to help you sleep. No matter how exhausted you were the day previous, you always woke up on time. A blessing for your duties and a curse for yourself.

Constantine moves to stand up straight to greet you properly, raising his hand in a small wave. It takes him longer than he’d like to form a genial smile, and if he had to guess his own reflection then he’d say that this was on the lower end of his forced smiles. That said, it doesn’t take him long to respond.

“Good morning, Master. I see you’re well?”

Beside your head was the white wall everyone was well acquainted with. Mostly a metallic white and a nice blue section off at the bottom to spruce things up a bit design wise. Though I suppose depending on who was asked the color was more akin to a pine green, which Constantine disagreed with. On another note, a noticeable pause hung in the air before your reply, he’s sure that you shrugged.

“…Eh. Deathly exhaustion aside, I guess I’m alright. But pleasantries for the sake of pleasantries isn’t your style, so I have to ask…Why are you standing in front of my room at five forty-something in the morning?”

You never did miss a beat, did you? That’s fine. Constantine came prepared.

“Well, I was resting a bit from my walk. I didn’t sleep very good last night, so I’m trying to tire myself out by doing a few laps.”

“…”

“Uh-huh…”

You made zero effort to conceal the fact that you were unconvinced. You probably had your eyebrows raised and your arms crossed too to add to that, if he had to guess. In other, more ’important’ news…There was a bit of a dent in the wall just a few feet away from your shoulder. It was barely noticeable, even for someone who was scanning the walls it’d have a decent chance of being missed on first blush.

Whilst Constantine was staring at the wall, you dropped your two cents.

“Well, good for you on exercising, I guess. But that stuff only makes you more energetic. Just go lie down and read An Elementary Treatise on Determinants. It’ll put you to sleep in minutes.”

Constantine shook his head. As good of an idea that was, he’d probably focus too hard on understanding what he’s reading than letting himself sleep. Plus, mathematics reminds him of a certain four-eyed bastard and he really doesn’t want math related dreams either.

“A good suggestion, but the book would have to be something like how water boils or the history of paper clips. …I’d rather not think of math before bed.”

Constantine hears you chuckle and unscrew your water bottle, in the corner of his eye he sees you raise it up to your face.

“I feel that.”

You pause for a moment and lower your water bottle.

“Well, that Lewis Carroll book aside, I can’t really help you. So, I hope your walk goes well. Good ni—”

Constantine immediately rushes to cut you off, the distance between the two of you cut by over half.

“A-Actually…! I…I’d like to ask…Would you mind accompanying me? We haven’t seen each other in some time, so I thought I’d—“

“Sure.”

“I know you’re tired, but—“

“I said sure, stupid. Now where are we going?”

Your hand connects with his elbow, a playful love tap he presumes was to reorient him back in the now and away from what’s in his head. He takes only a second to silently appreciate the gesture, before giving you an answer.

“The library. It’s about to open soon and I heard that a few films and radio recordings have been added to the archive as well.”

“Oh yeah, War of The Worlds is one, right? I read about that one back in school. I still don’t believe that people thought an alien invasion was going on just because some dude on the radio said so. Y2K made more sense.”

“Well, why don’t we listen and find out why they might have thought that way? I’m sure that it wasn’t just an average reading that frightened them to that extent.”

“I’ll believe it when I hear it, Micheal.”

So far so good, if he had to say so himself. Aside from a few hiccups on his end, the conversation went exactly where it needed to and he’s pretty sure you haven’t caught on to his plan yet. After all, that initial awkwardness would most likely be attributed to the fact that he’s been avoiding you, not that he was going to confess. He just has to keep steady.

The walk to the library was, fortunately, uneventful. Thanks to the time, not a single soul crossed their path and there didn’t seem to be anyone shadowing them either. The tranquility and the ease of everything made Constantine wonder if he wasted time with planning as thoroughly as he did. The conversation between the two of you flowed so naturally that he didn’t need to pull out any of his backups or redirect it any way. In fact, it was so smooth that it felt just like old times, before this mess happened and before he realized what that fluttering feeling in his chest was.

This nostalgic feeling pushes him forward and takes out a good chunk of the tension in his shoulders. This is what he wants to return to and if he succeeds then he will have this and much more along with the ability to give that much back to you. The prospect…makes him feel warm.

You both walk into the library to which the daytime librarian, Murasaki Shikibu, greets you both and kindly asks if you two need help looking for something. You asked where the new radio recordings were being stored and Murasaki gladly told you their location: Film Room C. They were in a box on one of the tables since the night shift librarian forgot to put them away yesterday.

The film room—or more accurately rooms plural—was located on the second floor. There were three separate viewing rooms, each with their own: projectors, phonographs and gramophones, old timey radios, and one of them even had a pianola! All of which were either donated, made, or were here from the ‘beginning.’ The biggest contributors to the whole shebang being Thomas Edison, Antonio Salieri, Marie Antoinette and, surprisingly enough, James Moriarty. Er, the younger one, specifically.

The shared interior of any one of the rooms is difficult to describe if you haven’t been inside, but I will do my best.

The layout can be simplified with two shapes. Picture a vertical rectangle and, in the middle of the southernmost line, draw a small square. The square is the projection booth and the rest of the rectangle is the auditorium. One exits the projection booth from either one of the side doors. At the northernmost line would be where the projection screen is, and in front of that would be three rows of seats clustered to the front. The rest of the auditorium is devoted to holding the various records, cassette tapes, and film reels. In the gaps left between the wall and projection booth are shelves for these things, and those shelves move along the wall some more and stop at the middle of the room so as to not block the light of the projector. In front of each one is a wood table that seats six people. The aesthetics of the room, such as the wallpaper and flooring are the same as the library, so I need not waste time recounting it here.

Constantine led you to Room C, the room next to the one with the pianola. He opened the door and stepped aside to let you pass first as he usually does. As soon as he stepped in after you, he gently closed the door and reached behind him to turn the lock. This is it…after this radio broadcast will be his confession.

It didn’t take long to find what you both were looking for. The 1938 CBS broadcast was stored on a small cassette tape with the barely legible note: “Ask Tesla for…” something or whatever. Clearly the person who wrote this was very tired at the time of writing since the ink was smudged beyond recognition on the latter half of the message.

You placed the tape down on the table and Constantine could feel your gaze settle on him.

“So. Do you want to play this on one of the cassette players with some headphones or use one of the radios?”

“Hmm…I’d like to use the radio for immersion’s sake…but I’d imagine that they don’t take cassettes.”

“Wrong. They do take cassettes, look here.”

You reached over to one of the radios on the table and pulled the top half off to reveal…a cassette player. You make a hand gesture towards it and speak once more.

“Edison wasn’t too happy with the fact that we had a bunch of records and tapes, but nothing to play any of them on. So he made it his personal mission to make the phonographs and cassette players for them. After that he made these radios for playing old broadcasts more ‘realistically.’ So that’s how we got these. Pretty cool, right?”

“Huh…I had no idea that Thomas Edison felt so strongly about these sorts of things.”

“Contrary to popular belief, lionhead has a life outside of one upping Tesla. Shocking, I know.”

You huffed.

“But that’s neither here nor there. Take a seat. The runtime on this is about an hour so if we don’t start now then I’ll pass out on your shoulder twenty minutes in.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, well it’ll be your last if you don’t shut your trap already.”

Constantine couldn’t help but chuckle at your crabby remark. You may be fully awake in the mornings but that didn’t mean you were happy about it.

“Huu huu huu. Keep laughing and I’ll strangle you with your own tie.”

The sounds of your unceremonious shoving of the cassette echoed throughout the small auditorium, and the tape began to play in all of its crunchy glory.

What followed for the next hour was a surprisingly quality reading disguised as an actual news broadcast. There were some portions of the dialogue in the beginning that were a bit too descriptive for normal conversation or reporting and the immersion shattered to pieces with the time skip near the end of the professor at Princeton recalling his memories of the martian invasion and how the world is after the fact. It did make sense since this broadcast WAS supposed to be just a dramatic reading of the H.G. Wells book of the same name, so that’s not really a dig at the people at the radio station. All in all, a solid use of a single hour.

Constantine could see you stretch out of the corner of his eye as he put the cassette back where he found it. Next came your voice.

“Well, I’m officially convinced. The people who tuned in after the beginning announcement definitely had no idea that they were listening to a reading, not with the quality of the voice acting and sound effects.”

“Agreed. Though there are some lines that do sound as though they’re from a book, it did sound mostly real. …Until the end that is.”

“Yeah, that time skip was way too jarring. I think they should’ve cut the reading off earlier.”

“…………”

“…………”

The legs of a chair scrape for a few seconds and the chair, he assumes, hits the desk. The soft pitter patter of your slippers inch closer to his location before stopping a comfortable distance from himself. You cut through the silence.

“Hey…”

“…………”

“…I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I really…”

Oh… Oh no…

“…Are you alright?”

“I’m fi—”

“………”

Constantine manages to cut himself off from playing that automated message. He can’t start off with a lie, no, he has to be honest. You deserve better than lies. Well, really, you deserve better than him but your pursuit for his heart lasting for as long as it has must mean that you’re okay with that. That you’re okay with settling for someone like him and that…Well, that boggles the mind, doesn’t it? But he’s not complaining. No, he’s glad. Very glad. And he’s finally going to let you know that.

“You know what, Master? I-I’m not…”

Constantine takes a deep breath and forces the statements from his mouth. The amount of effort it took to dislodge the words from his esophagus left him feeling a bit tired, but…

“I’m not alright. I haven’t been alright in a while, actually.”

Relieved. Constantine is feeling relieved. His shoulders have gotten lighter and his throat doesn’t feel as closed as it used to. Hehe… Maybe this isn’t so bad.

“It’s not because of you, or anything. No, this… This is all my fault and I take full responsibility for everything that has happened between us recently. And… There aren’t many words I know of that can accurately describe how utterly apologetic and regretful I am of these past few months. Ugh…”

Constantine was slouched over the table with his head in his hands. He wasn’t quite ready to look at you yet and your vague blob-like appearance in the corner of his eye was beginning to make him nervous because, ironically, he isn’t sure how you’re taking this. Which is exactly why he didn’t look at you in the first place. You could be very pissed right now for all he knows and the fact that he doesn’t know if that’s true or not is both making him feel better and worse at the same time.

Regardless, he continues, hoping that you can hear him through the wall he put in front of his face.

“I haven’t been this miserable since…since a while ago and I-I don’t want to go back to that.”

Constantine pries his hands off and lets them hit the table with a bit more force than necessary. He stands up straight and exhales. This is it. This is everything he’s been working towards. Just stay calm and recite the script.

“Which is why I need to tell you—”

Finally, after about and hour and a half of purposefully avoiding your countenance, FINALLY does Constantine look you in the eye. And what he sees gives him pause.

It’s you, clad in your pajamas and fluffy slippers with an empty water bottle in hand, bedhead on full display. That makes sense since you weren’t really expecting him or what he’s dragged you into. The sight, in the initial few seconds of him registering it, brings to mind a potential—no, near future that you will share. Someday, maybe very soon, he’ll get to see you like this everyday when he wakes up. But that’s if and only if he can get the words out.

Which he can’t.

Your expression stole the air from his lungs and suddenly the room feels much smaller. On your face sat that same look that you gave him that set him on fire. Your eyes shimmered with curiosity and attentiveness, your lips curled into a small smile—both zeroed in on him and him only. You weren’t angry or anything of the sort, no you seemed… You seemed happy with him and that, well, that’s amazing! That means that he hadn’t lost you yet.

Ah, that face… That beautiful expression… It’s positively strangling his ability to recall just what he wanted to say. Not a single word of any of what he wrote is coming to mind, but maybe… Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe this is how a confession is supposed to be.

Constantine, after a moment, chuckles and simply lets the words fall out as they go.

“Haha…Master… I had planned this meeting from start to finish, but it seems to have fallen through at the most critical moment. I should have expected as much, really, with the way you affect me. …While not ideal, I’ll move forward anyways. I have to. For your sake… And my own.”

It’s a great feeling for one to speak their mind like this after ages of keeping everything under lock and key, but it’s not as easy as it sounds. Not even after getting the foot in the door. The embarrassment of forgetting his heartfelt and perfect confession is already enough to drag him back to his room, but the real thing Constantine has to contend with is the rather incessant fear of what you’ll say to him when he’s finished. That face, for all he knows, could be a mask for what you’re truly feeling at this time. And that idea scares him to his core.

Constantine takes a step forward, removes his gloves and places them in the pocket of his blazer. Hesitantly reaching to grab your hand from your side to hold in both of his. This is not a gesture of affection. Just like how he locked the door soon after entering, this too is his way of forcing himself to go through with this. At least that was the initial idea. The man sighs upon feeling the warmth of your hand, he can’t help but consider falling into the temptation of placing it on his cheek like he had pictured so many times before. Mm, maybe later. The elation of feeling the warmth he had missed after so long of denying himself of it being enough for him for now. Constantine can feel his face getting hot as he musters up the courage to continue talking.

“I… I have so many things I want to say to you… But the words disappeared the moment I look you in the eye. Holding your hand isn’t making things better either, but I can’t seem to let go. The feeling of both… Is—it’s so… How do I put it? It’s… It’s warm. You are warm. You keep the cold away long after we part ways and every time I think about you… I feel as though I’ve been set ablaze. Not literally, of course! I-I mean it in more of a metaphorical sense. You don’t set me on fire, it’s just…”

Constantine raises one of his hands to cover his face, though it only really obscures his eyes from you. He knows the way his lips are pursed and the red on his face will give away what he’s feeling at the moment. Flustered. An emotion that he’s certain that you’ve seen on him before, but not as strong as it is now. He breathes a long sigh before speaking once again.

“Master. Your feelings for me… I reciprocate them in full. I know that may be hard to believe due to my…recent actions, but I do feel this way. I do cherish you deeply and I find myself thinking of you a lot in my off time and I… I…”

“………”

The thing about change is that it does not happen overnight. No matter how hard a person tries, you just can’t build Rome in a single day. It takes time. As commendable as it was for Constantine to take his first step into being more honest with you emotionally, that is all he can do right now. Take that first step, I mean. He can spare nothing more as forcing as much of his feelings out as he did left him drained. This is not his default state, after all. The amount of energy it takes to commit an action like this is twice if not thrice more than normal, leaving him now with not even fumes left to burn.

It’s important to pace yourself and find out what your limits are, but ultimately one will never know where their limitations lie until they push them. And right now, it seems Constantine XI has found his and, at the supposed moment of truth no less.

His mouth not complying with his mind causes his already high stress levels to increase, his legs beginning to shake in response. Constantine wants to start this off right and petering out at a time like this would only serve to force him to play catch up with you when he could be spending that time joyfully on equal footing.

This is, of course, under the assumption that you’ll accept…whatever this is.

Luckily for him, he doesn’t have to worry about that for much longer as he feels something warm touch his face. It’s your hand resting on his cheek, your thumb slowly drawing circles.

“I know.”

“What…?”

“I already know, you don’t have to tell me.”

Astonished, flabbergasted, and stunned: these words are close but simply not enough to convey his feelings upon hearing this revelation. Those two words have done no less than recontextualize everything that has occurred during and perhaps a bit before those few months. It makes much more sense now that he’s been made aware of this. But the newly formed ideas rattling around in his skull are, as of now, assumptions. In order to be sure, he does what any slightly confused person would do. He asks you to clarify.

“Since when?”

“Hm?”

“When did you know?”

“Ah…”

You place your free hand up to your chin in contemplation for a few seconds before sighing in what appeared to be defeat.

“Well, I’ve had a bit of an idea that you did a long time ago… But it wasn’t really confirmed for me until that time we watched Pride and Prejudice together a few weeks ago.”

Constantine felt the visceral desire to cringe upon recalling that night. He had always prided himself on being the bigger man in most situations, but something in him—which he now understands to be jealousy—just wasn’t having it that night when the Father of Conquest decided to sit next to you and sling his arm on your shoulder. The whole thing ended in Constantine swapping seats with you and throwing a punch after not being able to resist the very normal urge to punch people you don’t like.

Oh, of all the ways for a person to figure it out, WHY did it have to be the one time where he couldn't keep it together in front of you? Just…why?

“Hehe… Don’t look like that, Micheal. I thought it was pretty cute.”

Shaking his head free from the cringe, Constantine swiftly moves the topic onto something that doesn’t make him want to bash his head against the wall out of shame.

“Another thing, if you knew already then why didn’t you tell me?”

You simply shrugged.

“I just thought you needed time and space. You’ve always been the type to keep to yourself and deal with stuff on your own, so I didn’t want to butt in on something you weren’t ready or wanting me to see. So I waited.”

Yep, that’s exactly what he assumed. Ever the considerate person, you patiently waited for Constantine to get comfortable enough to act on his own. You weren’t worried since you had the knowledge that he liked you that way and you likely were confident that you were clear about your feelings. All that was left to do was to wait for him to make a move.

You chuckle.

“Guess I made the right call considering that you look like you’re going to pass out any second now.”

“Do I really?”

“Yeah, you’re sweating bullets and your legs are shaking real bad. I think you should go to bed, I know I want to.”

A tempting offer to be sure as he is feeling rather exhausted, but he knows he can’t leave just yet. He still has to say at least those three words before he can call this a successful confession. But the moment he opens his mouth, you pinch his cheek and cut him off.

“Don’t. If you have to try this hard to say it, then maybe you aren’t as ready to say it as you think you are. Telling someone you love them should be easy, almost as easy as a slip of the tongue but more genuine than that. It should be like saying the sky is blue or that fire is hot or that Emiya’s cooking is top notch—y’know like stating an obvious fact. That’s what that should be.”

Constantine attempts to respond only for you to gently shake his face a little and cut him off yet again. If it were any other person, he might well have been pissed for their audacity to treat him so disrespectfully. But your adorable pout contrasting your no nonsense attitude—plus the fact that it was you doing this—was melting his heart down, leaving him neither wanting nor able to do anything about it. You huff and add onto your previous statement.

“I’ve already waited for you once, and I’ll gladly wait some more if it means I never have to see you like this again. I don’t like seeing you struggle this hard just because you think I’ll hate you for something as ridiculous as not saying ‘I love you’ out the gate. Besides, it’s not like we’re on a time limit either, so we can take this as slow as you want. So no more of—”

You wave your free hand around in the air.

“—this because you look like you’re going to keel over. Okay?”

“Haha… Sure, sure. I’ll pace myself.”

“Great. Now that we have that sorted out, can we please go to bed? I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Er… We?”

“Yeah, we. If you’re not comfortable with it, then that’s cool, but I want to take a nap with you. Again, only if you’re okay with that.”

After months of barely seeing you, the answer was obvious.

“Sure, just give me a moment to change when we get there.”

You nodded, taking your hand off his face since it didn’t seem to you like Constantine was going to say something silly anytime soon. It rests at your side for only but a moment before being taken by Constantine, who—despite the awkward way he went about it—was smiling to himself and looking off to the side.

This whole thing was messy from start to finish but it was a success nonetheless. That in and of itself is something to be proud of and no amount of stutters and stiff phrasing could take that away from Constantine. Sure his preparation was ultimately a huge waste of time and perhaps an unconscious stall on his part, but it got the ball rolling in how our friend here was going to go about this. A long winded warm up if you will.

He hasn’t told you everything and fumbled in forgetting his explanation as to why he avoided you for months. But maybe that’s for the best. It took Constantine a tremendous amount of effort to tell you the surface of his feelings for you, explaining what happened over a decade ago to make him do this is probably going to be like pulling teeth. And it’s not like he’s necessarily gotten over it either, but he is less worried after thinking about it more rationally during that long introspection he had before today.

It’s the modern era with modern technology and modern medicine, leaps and bounds ahead of his time. Dozens of debilitating illnesses are extinct, curable, or manageable. That being said, does he really have to worry about you suddenly falling ill and perishing when you have legendary physicians at your side? Probably not. Plus you’re not his spouse, so maybe the curse isn’t after you yet. Maybe he’ll have much more time with you than he initially thought.

But thoughts like those are for a different time. For now, Constantine is content holding you in his arms as he drifts off to sleep. His last coherent thought being:

“Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

The Aftermath:

HAHAHAHA! What? Did you really think I’d make it that easy? That I’d let this all wrap up nicely with a neat bow and call it a night? Absolutely not! That’d be unrealistic.

The floodgates wouldn’t just open up all the way just because Constantine decided to change and be more open about his feelings. Things don’t work like that. You know why? Because the hinges have rusted over, not only from disuse but also from Constantine himself adding water and salt onto the hinges themselves for years. He had not nor did he ever desire, in the past, to have the proverbial floodgates open completely, let alone as much as they did now. Really, he preferred to have the gates open about…hm. About three inches. Just enough to let a little bit of water through and just enough to deceive you of the water’s color. After all, water in a glass appears colorless, but water in a lake appears a deep blue. See what I’m getting at here?

Due to Constantine’s own self sabotage—which he didn’t think it was—made it so that he just couldn’t get the words out even if he wanted to. He’s been like this for years, decades even. There’s no way that he can just up and force the floodgates open all the way on a whim. No, it would have taken extreme circumstances to have that happen right now, like you dying in his arms or something similar.

Now, don’t think that the proverbial floodgates and their rusted hinges are something akin to the Theodosian Walls in terms of strength because they’re not. He has broken down before—the mounting pressure of everything that happened in his life has caused the gates to fly off their hinges and after a quick breakdown alone somewhere, Constantine fixes it and pretends like nothing happened.

That’s how he’s been and the damage is far too extensive to simply be resolved with a single day’s determination. Though, I should say that his efforts now are a damn good first step in the right direction.

Ultimately, it’s going to take Constantine a while before he drops the ‘l’ word and perhaps a bit longer before he explains himself as to why he avoided you. It’s also going to take a few hiccups along the way with Constantine regressing a bit into his old habits of keeping his pain to himself. Change isn’t linear just like it isn’t swift, the bastard takes the scenic route that makes most people hurl from motion sickness and doesn’t apologize for it in the slightest. That’s kinda what it’s like.

But he’ll get there someday and when he does, he’ll look back on this whole thing and laugh about it with you.

Until then, it’ll be slow moving forward.

Endnote: 13,726 words later and here we are! I was not expecting this to be double the size of the original Romance Headcanons but when have I ever spoken shortly about something?

During the long ass writing process of this, I stumbled into school starting annnnnd my inspiration running dry quite a few times during this. But what got me kicking was watching a series of videos about Monogatari. The way the person phrased things and spoke about what was going on and the themes of it all had me captivated and inspired me on how to write what I was stuck on at the time, that being the Scripting Phase.

The Planning Phase was all fun and games, serious but not too in deep. Poking around the issue a bit, if you will. The Scripting Phase was the serious part, full of feelings—both good and bad. That series of videos and their wording heavily influenced how I worded things in that section, so if it seems different than everything else I’ve written so far, then now you know why.

Another thing was the music I was listening to. Shoutouts to Sabbath (Saya no Uta), Piano Alley (Yume 2kki) and Faraway Forest (Yume 2kki) for being my background music for nearly the entire duration of the writing process. I don’t know why, but those songs seemed to fit in perfectly with the mood I was going for. I am way too picky with my soundtracks because I can’t listen to a single bit of spoken word while I write AND the tempo has to be just right before I can comfortably get my noggin joggin’ on the page.

So. I know that Constantine not directly saying that he loves you is yet another blueball on my part (refer to the omitted section of the RHC) but I hope that reading this whole thing before and after the Execution Phase provided the explanation as to why I didn’t do that. Constantine is not a perfect person and I never want to write him as though he is since that’d be way too bland and untrue to his character (or my rather depressing interpretation of it.) Constantine fucks up like everyone else does. In Traum, he arguably fucked up by openly holding Johanna as close to his heart as he did because that gave him a massively exploitable weakness that Kriemhild took advantage of and iced him with. If he had kept Johanna a well kept secret, then he most likely would’ve stayed in the game longer than he did and he wouldn’t have had to worry about the consequences of his bestie The Pope getting ganked and how that would affect Reinstatement Realm morale.

I also think that his unfinished confession is much more interesting and leaves room for him to grow as a person. If everything was solved in less than a week, then that’d be lame and would have his character hit a dead end after the confession. Mm, but you could argue that—since this isn’t a series—I shouldn’t be concerned with things like time since in that scenario where it is one it’d be more noticeable if I put everything in a timeless vacuum as opposed to here where it’s just me yapping as youth say. I could have omitted time entirely, but I think that swathes of his development would be missed if I did and the payoff would have been less rewarding, both for the man himself and the reader.

I guess the fact that I view the headcanons I write as less of “What if my blorbo were to interact with ‘me’ in this given scenario” and more like “How can I use this scenario to broaden my understanding of my blorbo and what does his actions, thoughts, and feelings say about him as a person” type of shit is why I have these long ass posts that take a million years to write. And I worry that I’m leaning too much into character analysis as opposed to—in this set of hcs specifically—the romantic aspect of it. I feel like this might not be romantic enough, if that makes sense. So uh, if you feel that way then do let me know. I’m not sure how I’d about fixing that, or if I can without losing the substance that I loosely pride myself on. Makes me wonder if other fanfiction writers have the same issues I do, hehe.

But those are just Redline things. Back onto the behind the scenes, I—with much shame—am confessing that I have omitted something yet again due to length. I was originally planning on adding a bonus of what would happen if you beat Constantine to the punch but I kinda chickened out since I felt that it would take a lot of words to write even remotely well and that might put the word count above the blog’s current record holder “What it Means to Protect You” (WIMTPY) at 21k. I don’t think I’ve ever read a list of headcanons that ever came close to 21k, so I think that’ll be maximum if I ever somehow find myself writing that much. And I hope for your sake that I don’t since, I don’t know about you, but WIMTPY lagged like hell when I tried scrolling to specific parts of it, so I don’t want anyone to suffer that.

One last thing before I let you be. About the preview I released… I thought it’d be hilarious if I made it look bad since it was unfinished and I was having a time crummily drawing the header-footers and the squares with just my fingers. Though, it seems that the joke didn’t fly over that well, hehe, my bad. I might have to change my very vague™ April Fools’ plans for this year, or not do anything. So it wasn’t a complete loss on my end.

Anywho, that’s all for now. I have a lil’ something coming very soon that I had in my trusty back pocket for a certain someone’s arrival when the event drops, so look forward to that! But until then…

—Redline, over and out!

[redwayfarers]

enter - for the single-word fic prompt!

hello! sorry for being a wee bit late, but here is the fic for the prompt :> it's a part 2 to my bridgerton au for nika and artoirel, but you don't need to have read part 1. just know this is a retelling of season 1 and that artoirel is simon and nika is daphne.

bridgerton au 2 - 10 things i hate about you (affectionate)

fandom: ffxiv characters: artoirel de fortemps, nika perseis (wol), thancred waters, minfilia warde, mina fiore, lucretia fiore ship: nika/artoirel, nika/minfilia rating: gen words: 1926 divider by @saradika

Nika wants to die. 

It’s not even that much of an exaggeration. His mother sits there, in a glorious, pink dress, and Lucretia stands by her side, in cavalier uniform, all handsome and tall; Artoirel approaches with a little box in his hand, and with a voice that’s as serious as it is hot, announces his intention to ask for Nika’s hand in marriage. 

Now, it’s a fucking farce, and his moms know it, but nevertheless, Nika’s throat is oddly tight and he’s struggling to not tear the cravat off and running away to avoid having to watch this– shitshow of a fake proposal. It doesn’t mean shit. It’s a performance, and Artoirel’s doing an amazing job of making it seem real, but it’s all fluff, there’s no substance to it. 

So why is his face burning up? 

“We should ask him, Lord Fortemps,” his mother says cheekily and turns to face him. Nika wants to strangle her. “Nika, do you want to marry this man?” 

“We talked about this–” Nika bites out, clicking his fingers. “This isn’t a real proposal. We’re not seriously about to march down into a church to get married. This is a farce, a charade, not a real thing, I hope this is clear to everyone here, right?” 

“Entirely, Nika,” Artoirel says. “But there are certain rituals that must be observed regardless, if only for the authenticity of our fraud. Should anyone ask, I did come and ask for your hand in marriage and your mothers can confirm.” 

Nika takes a deep breath. Lucretia barely contains a laugh. “Fine. I do want to marry this man.” If anything, he gets to walk around with a handsome man for a few months and then break it off and go play music without interruptions again. “Let’s get this over with.” 

“You have our blessings, sir,” Lucretia says. “This reminds me of when I proposed to Mina! How romantic!”

Both Nika and Artoirel look at her at that. Artoirel’s somewhat red in the face, which Nika safely avoided due to the complexion of his skin, but it doesn’t mean his ears aren’t burning up. 

“Excuse me, sir Lucretia, there is nothing romantic about this arrangement between your son and I –” 

Nika sighs, rubbing his face. “Just put that fucking finger on me and we can all go about our day.” 

Artoirel opens the dark, satin box, pulls out a diamond ring and puts it on Nika’s finger. His hands are steady - almost forcefully so - and his fingers long and thin. For a moment their eyes meet. Artoirel’s so much taller than him that Nika has to look up, and when he does, he notices that the dark blue of Artoirel’s hair goes against the sunrise painted on the wall behind him. Their fingers are still joined together. 

He clears his throat and they separate. Lucretia runs a hand through her hair and smiles. Nika glares at her. 

And just like that, he’s now spoken for. 

It would’ve been easier if he found someone a touch.. Uglier, though. At least mamas are at bay now. 

**

Artoirel wants to die. 

That, admittedly, is a hyperbolic statement. But he certainly doesn’t want to be alive in situations that make his face burn like a fireplace and that leave him open for scorn and worse yet, tease! He had not thought this plan through in the slightest, and he now deeply desires to claw something. Unfortunately, the parks are a property of the state and his desires are unsightly, so he simply has to endure. 

It turns out enduring is a rather difficult endeavor when one’s engaged to the brightest young musician in the country. Sir Lucretia’s teasing comments aside, Artoirel can see the many benefits of the arrangement he and Nika formed in retaliation to the frustrating existence as members of the nobility, and in particular its demands for matrimony. He recalls how distant his parents were when his mother was alive; for a long time, he’d hoped he too would exist alongside his wife in a similar way, distant, half-way annoyed, cold. And while far from ideal, it was tolerable, as a thought and a possibility. Maybe even in reality. 

Yet now, when he walks in the park with Nika’s hand under his arm, their new engagement rings glistening in the sun, he feels anything but cold and distant. He’s all too aware of the press of their bodies, the way they’ve slowly fallen into the same rhythm of walking. When he looks in Nika’s direction, he’s hopelessly caught in the sunlight shining on his dark hair and the line of his nose and its round tip. 

Sometimes, he watches Nika’s lips move and the bobbling of his throat. Other times, he watches the arch of his brow and the hard stare in his eyes. Artoirel hates it as much as he does, truthfully. Nikita Perseis is vain, arrogant, rude, self-absorbed. Artoirel himself may not be much better in his eyes, but it’s hardly relevant. As Nika himself had said earlier that morning, they weren’t about to go to a church. 

This charade will have been over long before a church is even considered. And yet, he can’t help but wonder. He can’t help but think if Nika would be as radiant there, as bright as all the saints on stained glass windows. 

“You’re looking at me,” Nika says. His voice sounds strange, half-way between a strangled fondness and an angry rasp. 

“Am I not allowed to, my lord?” Artoirel lifts his head. “Remember to keep up this… Farce of ours. You could try and smile. The papers seem to think you have an awfully charming one.” 

“You mean that gossipy one everyone’s afraid of? The one who calls everyone out on their bullshit?” 

“I would say it spreads half-truths, but yes. Mind your language as well.”

Nika stops and looks up. “How about you get out of the fucking clouds for once? As soon as you do that, I may consider minding my language. Until then, fuck you.”

Artoirel lifts an eyebrow. “Do you want me to slouch for you? That is hardly good for my back, you see. Halone made the call for me when I was but a babe, after all.”

Nika stares. He then laughs raspily and digs his fingers in Artoirel’s arm. “I hate you so much, you asshat,” he says. It’s in that strange tone again, one that Artoirel wants to prod and study. 

A couple passes them by. A white-haired hyur man with purple marks on his neck and a blonde, hyur woman dressed in pink. It strikes him a moment too late who they are; Nika’s scowl has dropped and he looks wistful, almost sad. 

It is no secret that Sir Thancred Waters used to be one of Nika’s close friends. A fellow musician, their friendship bloomed until Nika was invited to play in court. Few know the details of the story, but Viscountess Whispers - the paper that, as Nika had said, “calls out everyone’s bullshit” - had her guesses when the fallout occurred. All of them were tied to the woman by Sir Waters’ side, Lady Minfilia Warde. 

Neither Thancred nor Nika made any comments. 

“Good day, my lords,” Lady Minfilia intones. Nika and Artoirel both turn to look at her. “I heard news of your engagement - my sincerest congratulations. I hope you have a wonderful life together.” 

“Indeed,” Sir Waters says, much less happily. 

“I’m sure the best you hope for me is to fall off a cliff, Thancred,” Nika replies. “No such luck, I’m afraid. As for you, Minfi– Lady Warde, I…” He swallows and looks away. He then looks at her with a strange look. “I suppose I should say thank you. I’m glad you didn’t wish me happiness of all things.” 

Minfilia gives a sad smile. “Your happiness is not mine to give,” she says softly. Nika takes a deep breath. 

“Our thanks, sir and lady,” Artoirel says. Nika looks at him gratefully. “Unfortunately, we must be on our way. Will you be in attendance at Lord Leveilleur’s ball tonight?” 

“I have prior obligations, alas,” Thancred replies. “But do give little Alphinaud my greetings, yes? It’s been a long time since I last had a chance to see him.” 

“And you, my lady?” 

Nika squeezes Artoirel’s arm. “Let’s go,” he whispers furiously. Artoirel ignores him. 

“I might attend, should my duties allow,” she says. “But do not let us keep you! Please, enjoy the rest of your day!” 

Nika’s lips are a thin line by the time they finally turn and leave. He relaxes them and closes his eyes. He looks visibly distressed. 

“Nika?” Artoirel reaches out a hand.

“Of all the people to run into, for fuck’s sake,” Nika hisses. “Not them. Not today. Not– Not them.”

“What happened between the three of you?” Artoirel asks, cautiously. He shouldn’t care, not really. Halone knows Nika wouldn’t care for him. And yet, here, in the watchful eye of the world, he feels the need to put a hand around the man he is betrothed to and banish that expression from his face. And he would be justified in doing so. It would only  strengthen the act. 

But there is too much truth in that to be an act. And that is frightening. 

“I loved her,” Nika says, after a while. “And Thancred is a piece of shit.” 

Artoirel puts a hand on Nika’s. It’s warm and sweaty, yet he lifts it up and places a gentle kiss on his knuckles. 

Nika goes still. His eyes don’t stray from Artoirel’s. Artoirel feels his face burn. 

“Let’s walk,” he suggests. Nika desperately nods. The rest of their walk goes in silence.

This is entirely acceptable behavior from people who are to be wed, after all. 

**

Dear reader, 

The season is off to a marvelous start! Many a couple graces the well-worn paths of our parks and our streets; a striking presence each, if only by the love that seems to gently whirl around in the air this time of year. Few, however, are as remarkable as Count de Fortemps and Lord Perseis. It is indeed rather strange, for this author could’ve sworn that mere months ago, the dear count was swearing he would never wed, on the pain of death, yet here he is, walking with the dashing new star of the court! 

As for Lord Perseis, he too has expressed little interest in settling down. His rise to fame is well underway, and as one is told, he will suffer no detours nor distractions on his path to becoming a name in the history of our great nation of Ishgard. Even he fell under the gentle charms of Count de Fortemps. The gentle kiss to his hand is apparently all that was required for a musician whose social graces have suffered greatly for his artistry to fall in love! 

And who knows! Maybe the next composition that graces the royal court will be a ballad for all those who will stand before Halone before long, prompted by the sincere desires of the heart, and hopefully not the desires of the flesh. How disgraceful would it be if the flesh took precedence! This author hopes it does not leave the ruins as tragic as those of the relations between Sir Waters, Lord Perseis and Lady Warde. Those were truly dark days for our blessed nation. Mayhaps joy will be found in the halls of Lord Leveilleur’s mansion tonight? This author is dying to know.

Viscountess Whispers

[galaxyedging]

Empty Nester Husband x wife reader.

Not a RPF, just a character inspired by this look.

Warnings: self doubt. Dry spell. Unprotected P in V sex.

Summary: Your husband tries to breathe some life back into your sex life.

That Fur Coat

“Are you sure about this?” He tucked the tight white vest back into his jeans from where it had popped out during his last pose.

“Yes! You look great! Your wife will love it.” Mandy the very upbeat, and very young, photographer reassured him.

With a slight grumble under his breath, he tugged the heavy fur coat back on to his broad shoulders, ignoring the nagging ache in the base of his spine. The rest of the photo shoot went smoothly. Not that he agreed with any of Mandy's outfit choices. She assured him he looked handsome, sexy even. All he saw was an ageing guy trying to look cool.

A week later when the photo book arrived, he was glad his wife was out. Taking the parcel from the delivery guy, thanking him and closing the door, he ran upstairs and into their bedroom. He sat staring at the innocently wrapped parcel like he had the school backpack that held the first nudie mag that his friend snuck out of his father's stash. His teeth troubled his plump bottom lip. He wondered what madness had overtaken him to think this was a good idea. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he did hear his wife enter the room.

If you were honest and kind to yourself, the years hadn't been too bad on your figure. You could see all the parts your husband loved or he did love. That was a grey area at the moment. There was no doubt in your heart that he loved you. He was such an honest and affectionate man. His face held so much expression, and there was no way for him to hide his feelings for you. In turn, you still love him as much as you did when you married young and had your children. Both of whom had now left for college. Leaving you and your husband in a big empty house with all the alone time you could want. Maybe that's how this dry spell started. Sneaking around to have sex when the kids were around was fun. Now that you have ample opportunity, it feels like an expectation. Now that you had time and space, things should be hotting up, right? Rolling your eyes at your reflection, you held up the silk Teddy to your body. You felt like a walking cliche. The middle-aged housewife trying to spice things up. No, that wasn't a cliche. Marriage takes work. All aspects of it. If dropping fifty bucks on some naughty lingerie to prance around in did the job, so be it. Your husband's car was still in the drive when you got home. The house was quiet when you opened the door. Assuming he was busy in his new home office, you crept upstairs to put away your purchases.

“I wasn't expecting you home.” He gripped the package on his lap as he stood quickly.

“I only wanted a couple of things.” You shrug trying to casually place your bags on your dresser.

“I see.” The nerves in his voice worried you.

“Are you alright? You sound upset.” You step toward him as he sunk onto the bed.

Twenty something years together and he still haven't learned to hide things from you.

The lines around his eyes deepened as he laughed. “Yeah. I just…I got you a present. It's stupid. I just should have talked to you.”

“About what?” Your hand thread into his without you even realising.

“Our little dry spell.” He gave your hand a squeeze.

It was your turn to laugh. “You mean the thing I spent over two hundred dollars on buying scraps of material that barely constitute underwear?”

“Two hundred? Why? You know seeing you in my old t-shirts does it for me just fine.”

“It hasn't lately.”

“I know. That's on me. I've been in my own head. Our sex life has always been great even when we had to put cartoons on for the kids and fuck in the utility room. It's just been so long since we could just be us. I guess I put too much pressure on it.”

“That pretty much sums it up. You always know the right thing to say.”

“I wished I'd known that before I did this.” Tearing open the package he handed you a black book with ‘For My Darling Wife’ etched in gold on the front cover.

“What's this?” You smiled.

With an exaggerated huff he dropped his face into his hands. “Just…look.”

The pages were filled with glossy photographs of your husband in all sorts of sexy outfits. You'd always thought he was sexy but the persona he took on in the photographs took your breath away. He reminded you of the hot tempered teen your husband once was. The dark look on his face made it look like he was ready to devour you.

“Wow. These are…”

“Stupid. I know.”

“...hot.”

“What? You like them?”

“Why wouldn't I? You look sexy, Baby.”

A bashful smirk played on his lips. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Maybe you could throw on a white vest and jeans while I slip into my overpriced scraps?”

In the end it did matter what you wore. You both ended up naked. The two of you curled up together as he gently thrust into you from behind. Barely half his cock could press inside you in that position. It was still enough. He took his time stretching you around his girth, his finger giving your clit long drawn out strokes. There was no rush, no worry of interruptions. Just the two of you stoking each other's bliss. When he felt you getting closer, his pace quickened.

Pulling his hair you teased in his ear. “Are you going to fuck me like a fur coat wearing rockstar?”

“It depends. Are you going to take it like a skimpy lingerie wearing slut?” Any self conscious concerns he had about his body melt away as he rolled you on your front and watched his cock disappear inside you. He might be older, not old, but it didn't mean he couldn't get the job done. The screams of his name as he drove his cock home proved that. A thought occurred to him that hadn't in years, he pulled out and jerked his load all over your ass. “Fuck. Now that is worthy of a picture.”

A playful swot to your ass made you giggle until the cum on the swell of your ass dripped down between your cheeks caused you to hiss.

“Cold?” He flopped down next to you absently drawing shapes on your bare back.

“Hmmm. Worth it.” You bite your lip at him.

Cupping your face, he teases your lip out with his thumb only to suck it in between his own teeth. A gentle bite is soon soothed by a swipe of his tongue.

“Let's never go too long without doing this again. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. At least I have something to keep me company if we do have another dry spell.” You look past him to the book on the side table. “I can't believe you did that for me.”

“You know I'd do anything for you.” Rolling on his back he pulled you onto his chest. The light sheen on sweat making you stick to him didn't bother you. It was nice to revel in him again. The touch of his smooth skin. His scent.

“Anything?” He hums as you kiss his chest. “Do you think you can get a hold of that fur coat?”

[elementaldoughnut12]

"Saturno"

*contains blood and crying*

“Fuck!” Seth says under his breath as he tries to find a comfortable position in his bed. After getting crushed by Bronson Reed six times in a row, the doctors told him he had minor internal bleeding and to stay at home and rest. He's been coughing up blood and his back has started flaring up again so sleeping was out of the question. He groans as he sits up and turns on the bedside lamp.

“I'm not even forty yet and I already feel like I'm half dead” Seth mumbles to himself as he grabs a bottle of pain meds off the table. He downs them with a glass of water he had and waits for them to kick in. He was about to fall asleep when he heard a bang and someone cursing. “What the fuck?” Seth says quietly as he slowly gets out of bed. He grabs his baseball bat and tiptoes into the living room.

He turned on the light and was about to attack the intruder when he was stopped in his tracks. He feels like his heart is gonna burst out of his chest when he's face-to-face with the man he's been in love with for so long, the man he's been waiting five years to see again, Dean Ambrose. “Dean?” Seth says in shock, causing Dean to turn around. “First a chair and now a bat? Do you hate me that much sourpuss?” Dean says jokingly with a smile.

Seth feels tears stream down his face as he drops the bat and runs into Dean's arms. He feels Dean's arms wrap around him as he gets a hit of the same rainforest scented body wash that Dean always used and Seth hated but could never get enough of. “You're here! You're really here!” Seth says through tears. “Yeah, I am… fuck I miss this” Dean says truthfully as he kisses Seth. Everytime Dean kissed him it felt like electricity going through his body.

“I know this might sound stupid but why are you here?” Seth asks curiously, causing Dean to give him a smirk. “I'll tell you if you do this with me first” Dean says as he pulls out a cd out of his pocket, puts it in a cd player he brought and pressed play. The song that plays brings a wave of emotion over Seth and he feels himself start to cry again.

“This is the song we were gonna play if we ever got married” Seth says as Dean holds out his hand. “Seth Rollins, may I have this dance?” Dean says with a cheeky smile, causing Seth to laugh. Seth grabs his hand and is chest to chest with Dean as he wraps his arms around Dean's neck while Dean wraps his arms around Seth's waist and they lightly sway to the music…

“Vuelves en cada sueño que tengo

Caigo de nuevo en tu red

Sé que tarda un tiempo

Curarme de ti de una vez”

“So are you gonna tell me why you decided to burst into my house at two in the morning?” Seth asks curiously, causing Dean to blush. “I saw you get injured and the moment I saw you spit up blood I got my ass on a plane here and used the spare key I still had” Dean said truthfully, causing Seth to quietly laugh.

“If I knew you would come back from seeing me bleed then I would've done something a long time ago!” Seth says with a nervous laugh when Dean glares at him. “Let's not repeat last time ok Sethie?” Dean says seriously as he gently kisses the faint scars on Seth's wrist. “Ok Deano I promise” Seth says with a blush.

“Tuve tantos momentos felices

Que olvido lo triste que fue

Darte, de mi alma

Lo que tú echaste a perder”

“I see you brought back the yellow hair. I always loved that look on you” Dean says affectionately as he runs his fingers through Seth's hair. “I see you're bald now! You really hit that midlife crisis hard didn't you? I wonder if I crack an egg on top that'll cook?” Seth says while laughing, causing Dean to growl at him. “Not everyone got blessed with an insane amount of beauty and oversized ego like you girly” he says as he yanks Seth's hair, causing him to moan.

“Yo no quería amarte

Tú me enseñaste a odiarte

Todos los besos que me imaginé

Vuelven al lugar donde los vi crecer”

“Why did you leave?” Seth asks sadly, causing Dean to sigh. “You already know why I left” Dean says seriously as he tries to look away. Seth is having none of that so he digs his nails into Dean's back to catch his attention. “Look at me Dean and tell me your real reason why you left” Seth says seriously as he stares into Dean's eyes. It looked like tears were forming in Dean's eyes and it made Seth worry.

“En Saturno

Viven los hijos que nunca tuvimos

En Plutón

Aún se oyen gritos de amor”

“I felt like you didn't need me anymore ok?” Dean says truthfully as tears stream down his face. “I have always needed you Dean” Seth says softly as he tries kissing Dean's tears away. “Really? Would you have been a long reigning champion if I was still there?” Dean asks curiously as he holds on to Seth a bit tighter while they dance.

“Yes and I would've made out with you in the center of that ring every Monday night” Seth says with a smile. “You always were the exhibitionist type” Dean says, causing them to both laugh.

“Y en la Luna

Gritan a solas tu voz y mi voz

Pidiendo perdón

Cosa que nunca pudimos hacer

Peor”

“I could've gone with you to AEW you know?” Seth says, causing Dean to shake his head. “You wouldn't have survived there” Dean says truthfully, causing Seth to glare at him. “What makes you think I couldn't handle a little blood?” Seth says with a pout. “It's not just a little blood Seth! I've had wooden skewers stabbed in my head, stabbed in the face with a screwdriver and many other fucking things” Dean lists off nonchalantly.

“I would've been by your side to take care of you and I've dealt with much worse! I had to deal with being the most hated guy for two years after I hurt you” Seth says sadly. “I forgave you for that and then my dumbass decided to hurt you right back and just leave” Dean says shamefully. “I forgive you for that too” Seth says as he gives Dean a quick kiss.

“Tienes la misma culpa que tengo

Aunque te cueste admitir

Que sientes como siento

La almohada no suele mentir”

“Were you waiting for me?” Dean asks curiously. “I have been ever since you left five years ago” Seth says truthfully with a small smile. “So you haven't been with anyone since I left?” Dean says in shock, causing Seth to quietly laugh. “No, I've just been waiting for you” Seth says with a blush. “What if I had never come back?” Dean asks seriously. “Then I'd still be waiting for you” Seth says truthfully, causing Dean to quietly laugh.

“Y yo no quería amarte

Tú me enseñaste a odiarte

Todos los besos que me imaginé

Vuelven al lugar donde los vi crecer”

“I haven't been with anyone else since I left either” Dean says truthfully. “Really? I would've thought you were since you make out with your opponents in every match you have!” Seth says with a laugh. “You watch my matches?” Dean asks in a surprised tone. “I'd like to know if you're doing ok from time to time” Seth says, causing Dean to sigh. “Why do you still love me Seth?” He asks as he looks into Seth's eyes. “It's because you're my soulmate and I love you that's why” Seth says honestly.

“En Saturno

Viven los hijos que nunca tuvimos

En Plutón

Aún se oyen gritos de amor”

“I was scared you were gonna die the other night” Dean says truthfully, surprising Seth a bit. “Really? You were scared?” Seth asks, causing Dean to nod. “I wish I was there to protect you from getting hurt” Dean says sadly. “There's nothing you could've done Dean. Plus there's no use in beating yourself up for not being there. If I thought like that then I would still feel guilty for not being there when you got a concussion” Seth says quietly.

“You felt guilty about me getting a concussion? Why?” Dean asks curiously. “I thought you were gonna die too” Seth says truthfully, causing Dean to quietly laugh. “We're fucking awful for each other aren't we?” He says with a smile. “I think that's why we're the perfect couple!” Seth says with a laugh.

“En la Luna

Gritan a solas tu voz y mi voz

Pidiendo perdón

Cosa que nunca pudimos hacer

Peor”

“You finally gonna tell me why you're back?” Seth asks, causing Dean to blush. “AEW and WWE are doing a thing where their roster can go on either brand if they wanted and I took the opportunity” he says, causing Seth to gasp. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?” Seth asks in shock.

“I'm going raw baby” Dean says with a smirk. “I don't know whether to be happy or hit you for making that joke!” Seth says while laughing through tears. “Your fault for being in love with an idiot” Dean says with a shrug, causing Seth to laugh even more.

“Gritan a solas tu voz y mi voz

Pidiendo perdón

Cosa que nunca pudimos hacer

(Peor)”

“The last verse is about to come up… you thinking what I'm thinking?” Dean says with a smile. “You really wanna fuck up my back even more by dipping me hon?” Seth asks curiously. “No, I was thinking we do something different” Dean says devilishly causing Seth to be a bit worried. Without warning, Dean picks Seth up and spins him around. “Holy shit!” Seth says as he holds on to Dean for dear life.

“Once a scaredy cat always a scaredy cat!” Dean says with a laugh, causing Seth to glare at him. Without saying anything, he grabs Dean's face and kisses him. It felt like getting electrocuted ten times over. It's a miracle that Seth gets to kiss Dean again. He felt Dean grip his ass harder and he moaned when Dean plunged his tongue in his mouth. It feels like absolute heaven to him.

“Cosa que nunca pudimos hacer

Peor”

“I missed having this” Seth says quietly as he presses his forehead against Dean's. “Me too… I don't wanna leave you alone anymore Seth” Dean says with adoration. “Then will you stay with me?” Seth asks with hope in his eyes. “As long as I get to play doctor with you” Dean says with a cheeky grin. Seth laughs at that but it causes him to cough and to cover his mouth. “Fuck” Seth groans as he sees specks of blood on his hand.

“I think it's time to go to bed” Dean says as he carries Seth to his bedroom. “Love how you already act like you live here” Seth says with a smile. “Might as well be considering we're basically married” Dean says casually as he takes his clothes off and snuggles up behind Seth. “You gotta put a ring on me first before you say that” Seth says as he turns off the bedside light. “I might have more surprises up my sleeve sweetheart” Dean says excitedly, causing Seth to giggle.

Seth turns around to look into Dean's eyes. “I love you Dean” he says quietly with love. “I love you too Seth” Dean says back as they share a deep kiss. Seth presses against Dean's chest as he feels Dean's arms around his waist. Seth quickly falls asleep to the sound of Dean's heartbeat. They knew they would find each other again cause they were meant to be together… just like the rings around Saturn.

[deathnguts]

hi! i’m in love with all of your rabastan/regulus headcanons. i’m not sure if you answered this before but how does regulus’s journey as a trans person go in this scenario? when does he realize that he’s a man and when does rabastan? how does it affect their relationships? does regulus ever come out and transition at all?

Hello! I’ve actually never gone into trans regulus in any context even though regulus IS trans to me, like if I see any cis regulus I view it as an AU because trans regulus is real

I think regulus knew there was something off about him. Like he didn’t know he was a boy per day, but he knew he hated the way he was perceived and being referred to as someone’s little girl or all dressed to the nines in lace and skirts made him cry when he was like four. It all got better for a little when he just wore pants and kept his hair stylishly short when he was like 8-11 because girls were allowed to do those things, but then it immediately got worse when he went through puberty because he started to realize what it was he didn’t like. He didn’t like being perceived as a feminine girl, but he didn’t know yet that it was because he was a boy he thought it was because of the expectations that came with being a girl in his family that he viewed as beneath him. He wanted more than being married and having kids, he thought he only hated being a girl because it came with that tragic life. He ignored how he had a huge problem with his own body because all girls hate their boobs and don’t master bait because they hate their vaginas, right? … right?

But, no, he did not realize he was a boy for little too long of a time. I don’t think he knew it was possible to be trans until he was an adult anyway, or at the very youngest late teens. I think he did immediately know that he was a transgender man when he found out that option existed, but he hated it. He did not embrace it with the satisfaction of knowing himself, he despised that this couldn’t have just been easy for him. Of fucking course he couldn’t just be born correct with the right brain and the right body, fuck this. I think he went through a phase especially at the beginning of his and Rabastan’s marriage where he was hyper feminine. He forewent his attempts at just being a tasteful ‘tomboy’ (it was more like women in suits sort of vibe because tomboy was too unrefined to him) and he went all in on the like Lana del ray core style femininity for a solid five or more years. It was a desperate fail safe attempt to be what was expected of him, everyone who saw him married to Rabastan already viewed him as some small young girl who was doe eyed in love with an older man, who cares if he plays the part everyone already sees him playing fuck you.

Anyhow it failed, he was miserable the entire time but keeping it simmering under his skin hoping it would like permeate away but it didn’t, it never does. He grapples with the idea of doing anything about this for another few months I think, slowly deconstructing his feminine mask and testing if the work of deconstructing himself is worth it. He experiments with himself, mostly alone or among his friends. They’re the first to know because of course they are, and obviously they don’t mind. They always kind of noticed, and now that they have a name for what regulus went through it makes sense.

Rabastan kinda notices? Like he obviously knows something is wrong, but he doesn’t know why and he doesn’t know to ask. So I don’t think he does. When his wife starts wearing dresses and ribbons and growing out her hair he tells her she looks beautiful, when she very suddenly stops doing that he kisses her temple and asks if she needs new clothes. But then there’s a little bit of a strange phase where regulus is suddenly very affectionate. He’s always been, whenever he was happy that is, but now it’s almost clingy and regulus has never been clingy.

Inside, it’s because regulus thinks that rabastan will not only leave him if he comes out, but be personally offended that he made him be even perceived to be romantic with a man. Their families are extremely homophobic and transblind, regulus thinks that Rabastan would be in the right to hate him for this. So he hides it, for just a little longer. He loves his husband for as long as he can because he’s sure he’ll be gone forever when given the chance.

But then the day comes, regulus has Barty on speed dial just in case shit hits the fan, and he sits Rabastan down and tells him that everything’s ok they never have to talk again and the cut can be clean and easy and regulus won’t mind (he will) because he’s… he’s a boy. Rabastan didn’t marry a boy. Regulus lied, he supposes, so Rabastan should be allowed to leave.

Rabastan’s…. Confused? Why do you want me to leave? What did you lie about?

Regulus explains further, panic rising in his chest and rabastan gets it after a bit. He doesn’t know what to say.

Regulus, I love you. Not the little girl with tears down her cheeks and not enough words to explain why, not the short hair and fear of her own body, not the dresses and ribbons, not the clinging touches and kisses, I love you, not the phases of what you used to be. I love what you are, if you think that’s a man then I guess I love a man. You won’t get rid of me that easy.

So yeah, it’s a lot of up and downs but he figures it out and embraces it eventually and rabastan’s there for all of it, in summary. Rabastan is a lot of things and their relationship has its insane issues, this funnily enough, isn’t one of them. While Rabastan does sort of think this might be another phase, he’ll never say it and he takes it seriously to make sure regulus knows he knows it’s important to him. Rabastan loves his husband just as much as he loved his wife, it simple to him.