#and then finding solace with his lovers sibling

[rosalinesurvived]

In Vietnam:

Max: "Alright, listen up bitches!"

Max: "Not you Griffin, you're an angel and we're all so glad you're here"

#look.. max/griffin #max acts like a forlorn lamented lover for 10+ years after vietnam for griff #also my hc is that griff was the one who sang clementine to max #the song is about a guy watching his lover suffer and die without being able to do anything #and then finding solace with his lovers sibling #maxgriff #griffin callenreese #max lobo #max glenreed #banana fish #incorrect quotes

[satoluv]

2PM LOVE

synopsis in which you had a crush on yuta okkotsu since young.

note: # mentions of divorce. angst to comfort fluff! wc 1k +

Love. 

An intense feeling of deep affection for someone. As a child, you didn’t understand the meaning of love. Back then to you, love was books and books were your love. Sure, you received ample love from your parents and loved ones. The sneaky glances your parents throw at each other during family gatherings, the way your father opens the door for your mother like a gentleman, the way he soothed the goosebumps on your mother’s delicate skin with his calloused hands whenever she got cold. It’s the way their hips sway to their ‘anniversary song’ that echoes your humble abode across your living room, looking at each other with so much love. 

That, to you, was love; your parents' love for each other. Not that you’d say it out loud, of course. But someday, you will find love like your parents.

Growing up on the outskirts of Tokyo, you had a lovely childhood and you couldn’t ask for more. But it was all in vain. After 20 years of a blissful marriage, along with 3 children, your parents had a divorce. You weren’t quite sure what happened because they felt really in love. It also hit you when your father had to move out alongside your two siblings, leaving you and your mother alone on the outskirts of Tokyo. 

You wanted to be mad when you found out that just after 2 months of being divorced, your father had found himself a newer and younger lover. Never had you felt so betrayed. You felt angry and sad, for your mother who hides her pain with a sweet smile, assuring you that she’s not affected by it. But in reality, you know it’s a facade when you can hear her muffled sobs every night. 

From then on, you didn’t believe in love and promised to never fall in love. Thus, you grew up finding solace and comfort deep inside your books.

After 2 years of your parent’s divorce, you met a boy.

In front of your mother, you pretended that falling in love was a sin, you confidently vowed to never fall in love but why does your heart skip a beat whenever you see the boy with disheveled black hair and dark blue eyes? Why does your hand get so sweaty whenever your fingers brush his? When you told your mother about the situation you were in with your big doe eyes, she couldn’t help but laugh saying you have developed a crush. 

A crush on a boy named Yuta Okkotsu? 

You first met Yuta at a local bookstore not too far away from your neighbourhood. Every day, at 2pm, without fail you’ll catch him reading in the corner of the store, giggling to himself. What a weird boy. Perhaps he was reading a comedy series? You didn’t know what came to you that day, the ground beneath your feet swept you towards that young boy’s direction. He slowly shifted his gaze from the book to you. 

Embarrassed, you struck up a conversation “uhhh hi! what book are you reading?”. 

You have been friends ever since. He’d meet you outside your door, waving your mom goodbye before racing each other to the bookstore. You visit there so often that the owner recognizes you two. Once, you fell asleep on Yuta’s shoulder while his cheeks were on top of your head with a book in hand. The owner, Ms Belle, cooed at the adorable sight.   

He spent so much time with you that he’s grown attuned to you and your little habits. The way you stomp your feet when something exciting happens – like when the main character decides to finally confess to his crush. He knows you like to run your fingers along the shelves. He knows how you hate folding the edges of your paper so for your 8th birthday, he got you a bookmark with your name engraved.

One word to describe you and Yuta would be inseparable. You’d do things together. You’d have a sleepover at his house on some nights, and some at yours. He knows how much you hate crowds, so he would hold onto your pinky while he leads you both to a more quiet, and safe place. 

You were 9 years old when you finally realised that you had a crush on Yuta Okkotsu. However, you were also 9 years old when you had your heart broken, by a boy besides your father. He had to move to the other side of the world, far from Tokyo, Japan. His absence left you all alone again. The worst part of all, you didn’t have a chance to tell him that you liked him.

Perhaps you were right. You won’t believe in love and promise to never fall in love. Although deep down behind closed doors, love –your parents once shared, was all you craved for.

10 years later. Everything has changed. You grew taller, no longer the shortest in class. Your voice matured. Everything changed, even the the childhood bookstore closed down when you were 11. You no longer have a crush on Yuta Okkotsu. Lies. You’ll remember him forever.

Glancing at your Apple Watch, it read 2pm. You had to meet your friends at 2.30pm at the train station but since you were already early, you decided to stop by the newly opened bookstore.

The distinct aroma of earthy with a hint of vanilla from the pages of books that were stacked neatly on a wooden shelf instantly made you relaxed, like you were at home. Like a muscle memory, you run your fingers along the shelves, a habit of yours while trying to find a book that catches your attention. Abruptly, your fingers came to a stop. Your eyes lingered on a certain book. You were so deep in the thought you didn’t realise someone coming up to you. 

“The Love Hypothesis, huh?” 

That voice. His voice was honeyed yet soft spoken.

You shifted your gaze to your right where the stranger is. He’s taller than you, but not that tall, his hair no longer disheveled. Black hair and dark blue eyes carrying a radiant gentle smile that could probably light up the sky. —the same smile he carried in the past.

Your eyes lit up. “Yuta Okkotsu?”

fml i really really dont like how this turns out but i just had to clear from my drafts. i love yuta sm.. and i m so sleepy rn happy 2024 my loves 🩷

likes and reblogs appreciated! 💕💕 pls be kind to me

my other works <3

@ satoluv do not plagiarize, translate, or rewrite my writings without my permission !

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu jjk #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x y/n #yuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu my love #lily writes! ೀ⋆｡˚

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Duke Sabrian, the Trueborn Bastard

The barred windows of the carriage let in only cold mountain air and the endless procession of crucifixes marking the road up to the Duke's castle. You idly wonder if he's picked out which ones he'll nail you and your friends to once you've told him that you've failed.

Though he styles himself the gallant exemplar of everything the noble warrior class could be, Duke Sabrian is in truth the embodiment of all the failings of his social order: brutish, bloody-minded, and blind to any plights beyond his own. More than a decade past Sabrian fought a war against his own sibling to seize control of their duchy and since then has ruled from an isolated mountain fortress fearing reprisals from the people he subjugates.

As long as the Duke rules things will continue to get worse, and it's only a matter of time before the party and those they care about get caught up in it.

Adventure Hooks:

Exhausted after delving their first dungeon the party are shaken down by a group of the duke's men, who are better armed and carry the threat of reprisal should the party draw steel on them. Perhaps it's better to give the toughs what they want and live to fight another day... say after finding out where the guards get drunk so they can trick/charm/beat the location of the stolen treasure out of them.

Countess Ledrick has a problem. Despite being one of the mercenaries who helped win Sabrian his throne she was never formally sworn in as one of the duke's vassals when she took over her lands and is widely regarded as little better than an upjumped brigand. Now a large shipment of tribute heading for the Duke's council has gone missing on the borders of her land, and it's only a matter of time before the blame comes to rest on her. She'll need all the help she can in recovering the lost treasure which just might be the party's ticket to a position in her court.

While out in the market a couple of the party members are approached by a woman in a hood doing her very best to try to seem inconspicuous. Through smiles and whispered pleas she begs them to help her hide from the guards, palming them a small handful of jewels in the attempt. If the party gives her aid she'll eventually introduce herself as Mina, keeping most of her story to herself but letting slip that she stole something precious from Sabrian and that she needs their help getting out of the duchy and into some neighbouring lands. It'd be an arduous journey, made even more arduous when in the next town the party discover posters and criers proclaiming that the duke's wife Minerva has been kidnapped, promising a great reward for her return and a terrible punishment for those who made off with her.

Background: While many born into the nobility feel confined by their station, Sabrian always knew he was made to rule. He was one of those people who excelled at the standards he was expected to meet, for whom the path of life is not only a straight line but part of a larger destiny that gave order to the world.

The problem was that Sabrian was the younger son, and his older sister chafed against noble life as much as he suited it. Sabrina was high minded, well read, and was possessed of several strange notions. The first being that those who own and govern the land owed something to those that lived upon it, the second being that her name was Solace, not Sabrina. The third was that she was not a woman, simply a person. The fourth and perhaps most outrageous was that she they would not be taking a husband, nor even a lover for the purposes of producing heirs and rather than just handing over their claim on the duchy to their well deserved brother like so often happened when the noble family tree refused to branch they would instead be creating some kind of made up of council made up of their vassals the elected mayors from the duchy's largest towns.

Sabrian wasn't having any of it, his sibling had clearly gone mad and was denying both of them (but mostly him) their birthright. After years of arguing, petitioning their mother on her death bed, and an outright threat of banishment from the now ascendant Duke Solace, Sabrian went out, raised himself an army, and went to war with his softhearted kin. The fighting was worse than anyone could have imagined, the people rose in Solace's defence and Sabrian had to resort to brutal tactics to put them down burning villages and farmland in the drought of summer and marching his followers over the ashes towards their next target.

Solace's head was delivered to him in a basket the same day he took the throne, and for the decade since Sabrian can't hold court without remembering the reproachful look in his sibling's dead eyes.

Further Adventures:

Knowing the common people hold no love for him, the duke governs from an ancestral bastion high in the mountains, a cold and lofty perch quite suitable for an unassailable tyrant who thinks himself above all. His remoteness and unwillingness to bother has paradoxically allowed his vassals the ability to govern their lands the way they see fit, which leads to a patchwork of graft, neglect, and personal ambition. In recent years Sabrian has sought to curve this independent streak by putting more and more resources behind his personal guard, who are now commanded by a former bountyhunter famed for her ruthlessness.

Increasing isolation gives the party a chance to rally together a resistance against the duke, but such a coalition might be built on shoddy foundations. A sizeable minority of his underlings feel hard done by him and might turn if given the right encouragement, though they may prove untrustworthy. Solace's old supporters have been ruthlessly hunted and will be mistrustful of newcomers, especially those that fought under the usurper. Minerva's clan are powerful nobles in their own right in a neighboring territory, and once they have their daughter back would be happy to throw their support behind the party's plan to oust the useless tyrant, provided the party are willing to play ball with them.

Sabrian has been unravelling, retreating from public life, executing his servants an courtiers for suspected treason, even keeping his formerly loving wife locked in a tower for the better part of a year. In the ten years since he married Minerva to secure her parent's support for his usurpation he has been unable to father a child, no matter what healers he turns to or what concubines he lays with. The inability to produce an heir was one of his primary reasons for going to war with Solace, and now he is failing in that exact same noble duty. This rather ironic fate was delivered unto him by Litirenn, god of farmland and cultivation, as punishment for burning one of the god's shrines during his rampage through the countryside ( along with the shrinekeeper who was an outspoken proponent of Solace's reforms. The god is going to be watching the party's actions closely if they set themselves in opposition to the duke, giving them a nudge now and again, ensuring the land rises to support them, that kid of thing.

Art 1

Art 2

#villain noble #rebelion #mid level #rescue mission #bandits #mountain villain #villain #encounter town #encounter city #encounter market

[mcdonaldsplayground]

| actually the worst | part 4

ao’nung x f!reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | bonus part

summary: just when things start to seem decent between you and ao'nung, you discover that he's done something terrible. though your family begins to forgive him, you know he doesn't deserve forgiveness for being a total dick. so why do you feel so bad for him?

includes: enemies to lovers, swearing, teasing, mentions of fighting/death, ao'nung being a terror😐

word count: 3k

a/n: okay i thiiiink i can wrap this up in one or two more parts, so hopefully this series will be finished up in a few days. i’m sorry i think this is getting repetitive, but i swear things are gonna change up a bit soon😏

“What was the one thing I asked? The one thing?” Your father demanded, sounding like he was gearing up to give one of his famous “Lo’ak Lectures” as you and your siblings called them. His disappointment was understandable, but you were itching to try and set the record straight. You thought Lo’ak was incredibly stupid for starting a fight, sure, but it seemed unfair for him or any of you to get into trouble for standing up for yourselves.

“Stay out of trouble…” Lo’ak answered wearily.

“Stay out of trouble, right.” Jake was about to go off when Neteyam tried to intervene.

“It was my fault-”

“I don’t think so. You have got to stop taking the heat for this knucklehead!” Jake exclaimed, making you flinch. He was being harsh, as per usual, so you decided to see if he would listen to you.

“Dad. Ao’nung was picking on Kiri.” You said calmly, hoping your twitching tail didn’t betray how angry you actually were.

“And you.” Lo’ak added, giving you a look. “He called them freaks.” As if he hasn’t called me that a million times already, you thought to yourself, though you had to admit that this time was less teasing and more targeted.

“And he hit you?” Your dad questioned, gesturing to the newly forming bruise on your cheek, anger flickering in his eyes. You could tell what he thought of Ao’nung without even asking.

“What? No!” You couldn’t help but reach up and brush your fingers over your cheek, wincing a little. You hadn’t stopped thinking about Ao’nung’s expression after you had gotten hit. You had never seen him look at anyone that way before, almost like he was actually concerned. “It was an accident. I stepped into the middle of the fight like an idiot.” You shrugged, realizing you felt a little afraid for Ao’nung, not wanting him to take the heat for something you could never imagine him doing. You took solace in the fact that the feeling was involuntary. You still wanted to kick his teeth in.

Your father sighed, looking around as he decided how to respond. “Lo’ak, go apologize to Ao’nung.” He said finally, sending your heart plummeting into your stomach.

“What?” Lo’ak breathed, incredulous.

“He’s the chief’s son, do you understand? I don’t care how you do it, just go make peace. Just go.” He shooed Lo’ak outside, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watched the boy stalk angrily away. You groaned, thinking about how smug Ao’nung was going to be now. You imagined your life was about to become insufferable.

“So, what’d the other guys look like?” Jake tried to ease the tension, though he appeared genuinely curious. You rolled your eyes.

“Worse.” Neteyam replied.

“That’s good.” Even with a straight face, you could tell your father was secretly proud of his sons, but it did little to make you feel better.

“A lot worse.” Neteyam decided to push his luck, smiling cheekily as he peered up to get your father’s reaction. The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of Jake’s mouth before returning to his familiar strict expression.

“Get out of here.” He said, and you and Neteyam quickly distanced yourselves from the marui.

“Should we go find Lo’ak?” You asked. “He’s probably gonna have permanent ego damage after this.”

Neteyam laughed. “Probably. But nah, he’ll come find us after he’s done licking his wounds. Let’s go tell Kiri and Tuk what happened.” He tugged you toward the village, the two of you setting off to find your sisters.

It was getting late, but you didn’t have an appetite, so when your siblings started heading back to the marui for dinner, you decided to walk around the beach instead.

You spent most of your walk looking down at the sand, trying to spot some nice shells to collect. You were just about to reach down to grab an iridescent-looking one when you bumped into something warm and solid. Blinking, you realized that your face was mere inches away from a broad chest. You backed up hurriedly, blushing.

“Sorry I-” Your apology was cut short when you finally looked up and saw those piercing blue eyes staring down at you. He seemed just as startled as you, the two of you standing in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. The look on his face was strange, guilty almost. You figured he would have been cocky as ever after Lo’ak’s apology, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Looks like Lo’ak got you good.” You broke the silence, deciding the most normal way to go about this interaction would be to tease him. He took the bait, narrowing his eyes as a sly smile tugged at his lips. His eyes roamed your face, inciting that buzzing feeling in your stomach that often came about under his gaze.

“Looks like-” But his words died at his lips when his stare came to rest on your cheek. Most of your hair had fallen down to cover it, but you guessed that some of your bruise must have been peeking out enough for him to notice now. He stepped forward seemingly without thinking, gingerly pushing your hair back behind your ear as he examined the bruise with a hard expression. You were frozen in place, unsure of how to respond.

“Are you okay?” He questioned, his voice low and quiet.

“Um, what?” You couldn’t help but be confused, having never seen the tall boy act like this before.

“Does it hurt?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you think, genius?” This made him huff in annoyance, but he didn’t move away.

“Come,” Was his only response, placing his hand on your back as if to guide you along with him when he started toward the village. Against your better judgement, you found yourself being guided along with little resistance.

“Where are you taking me, weirdo?” You tried to put some venom into your words in an attempt to get the old Ao’nung back instead of this strange, concerned clone of his.

“Do you ever stop talking?” He bit back, rolling his eyes. There he was. You almost smiled.

“You know, if you’re taking me somewhere to murder me, everyone is going to suspect you, like, immediately.”

“I’m not going to murder you.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Stop asking dumb questions, forest girl.”

“Just tell me where-”

“Maybe I will murder you just to have some peace and quiet.” Ao’nung growled, steering you up to a very small marui pod that seemed to be unoccupied. “We’re here.”

You chuckled, unsurprised that this whole thing had turned out meaningless. “Wow, this is really nice. Thank you for the pointless walk and terrible company, but I have to get going now.” You deadpanned, turning to go, only for him to grab your arm with a huff.

“Would you just sit down? I know what I’m doing.” He gestured to the small ledge just outside of the marui. You rapidly tried to work out what his end goal was, but obliged to his request, sitting cautiously as he ducked inside. When you peeked into the pod, you noticed various pots, bottles, and dried greenery, but you and Ao’nung seemed to be the only living beings around the area. The thought set your heart racing.

“Here. Now stay still.” Ao’nung popped back out of the pod, holding a small pot of what looked like ground up herbs in some kind of paste. It was then that you remembered who his mother was and figured this was probably storage for her medicines. You tensed, scooting away from him.

“I am not letting you play doctor on me.” You scoffed.

“Don’t be such a baby. My mother is Tsahìk, I know what I’m doing.” He sat down beside you, waiting annoyedly for you to allow him closer.

“Yeah? Well, you’re still a dipshit, so stay away from me with that stuff.” Ao’nung shook his head, groaning.

“You are impossible,” He hissed. “I use this all the time on myself, okay? It works.”

You glared at him for a long moment before giving in, still wary of his insistence to help you. He smirked when you relaxed somewhat, and dipped his fingers into the paste as he leaned toward you.

You gasped a little when he made contact with the bruise, surprised at the coldness.

“Don’t tell me that hurt, forest girl.” Ao’nung mocked quietly, smirking at your annoyed expression.

“Was just cold.” You mumbled, and he went back to gently spreading the paste along your tender cheek. His featherlight touch and warm breath fanning across your skin gave you goosebumps. The silence was too much for you.

“I don’t know if you got brain damage from being punched too hard, but we,” You whispered, gesturing dramatically between the two of you. “Don’t get along.” You stared directly into his amused eyes. “It’s actually weirding me out that you’re being… nice?”

“Just shut up, freak. Listen to the ocean or something so I can enjoy the quiet.”

You wanted to keep talking just to annoy him, but you soon settled into the comfortable silence, listening to the soft lapping waves and the insects humming.

The sun had begun to set, washing everything in golden light as it started to dip below the horizon. Ao’nung’s skin looked soft in the golden glow, his eyes turning a shade of blue that you didn’t even know existed. You were staring but you couldn’t pull your eyes away, not when he was practically caressing your face. Suddenly, his eyes flickered away from his focus on your bruise and locked with yours. The air in the minuscule space between you felt charged with electricity. You briefly wondered what it would be like to lean a few inches forward and kiss his cheek. Or his lips.

“[Y/N]! There you are!” Neteyam’s relieved voice instantly shattered the strange bubble you and Ao’nung had just been living in. Both of you jerked away from one another, as if burned. “What are you doing here?” Neteyam’s tone changed when he took in the full scene before him. Despite the distance you had just put between yourselves, there was a only so much space on the marui ledge, and both of you looked flushed.

When he didn’t receive an answer right away, Neteyam stepped closer, narrowing his eyes at Ao’nung. “I asked what you are doing here. With my sister.” He said through clenched teeth, looking murderous.

“Teyam, it’s okay. He was helping me with this. See?” You turned your cheek slightly to show him your newly treated bruise. Neteyam’s gaze flicked between that and the paste still in Ao’nung hand. He seemed satisfied enough with the answer, but still didn’t relax much.

“Well, mom and dad want you back home soon. It’s almost dark.” He stretched his hand out to you, helping you down from the ledge to stand beside him. Your heart was still racing and your skin burning as your mind tried to make sense of everything. Ao’nung said nothing, though his own chest was heaving slightly.

“Let’s go.” You murmured, lightly pulling your brother away. “Um- thank you.” The words came out robotic, and couldn’t bring yourself to meet Ao’nung’s eyes as you said them. You didn’t wait for a response before you and Neteyam slowly trailed away. You were rapidly trying to decide how to explain everything to your brother when he spoke, seemingly more worried about something else.

“I thought Lo’ak would have been with you.” He was clearly deep in thought, concerned over something you were unaware of.

“Why? Didn’t he go back to the marui for dinner?” That’s where you assumed he would have been. It wasn’t like him to skip a meal.

“No, he didn’t.” Neteyam shared a look with you. “I told mom and dad that I would bring him back with you.” He looked scared now, and you didn’t blame him. As you racked your brain, also growing scared for your brother, you suddenly stopped, remembering something.

“Ao’nung!” You whipped around, starting quickly back toward the marui where the boy still sat. His surprised expression rapidly shifted into confusion when he noticed the look on your face.

“Where is Lo’ak?” You demanded, not missing the way he tensed before slumping his shoulders slightly. He looked down.

“I was going to tell you…” He started and it took everything in you to stay calm and let him continue. “That’s why I was on the beach. I was looking for you. But then I saw you were hurt and I got distracted-”

“Where. Is. Lo’ak?” You breathed, far too mad to register his unusual remorsefulness.

“We took him out hunting,” His head lowered even more, his voice downcast. “Past the reef…”

It was safe to say that your entire family was seething at Ao’nung, though your parents clearly tried not to show it. You knew they constantly worried about offending the Olo’eyktan- and Ao’nung happened to fall under that umbrella of protection. You, however, couldn’t care less who he was. You wanted to kill him.

He had told your parents everything after you and Neteyam dragged him back home, which resulted in a search party being sent out to look for Lo’ak. The thought that he might not ever return gripped your throat and lungs, making it hard to breathe. Tears were streaming down your face, but you couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed, despite the large amount of people who could see you crying. Ao’nung was trying to help by explaining where they had taken your brother, but you had begun to notice that he would frequently pause to glance at you from afar. You kept your distance for fear of not being able to control yourself if you got too close. It didn’t matter that he had already apologized a thousand times. It didn’t matter that he seemed genuinely sorry. That damage was done.

As you began gearing up to take your ikran out (against the wishes of your parents), a horn sounded, followed by some unintelligible shouts while a crowd formed at the dock. You instantly dropped your gear and ran toward the commotion, arriving just in time to see Lo’ak approaching on the back of someone’s ilu. He stepped off easily, thanking his rescuer before turning to face the crowd. Without a second thought, you jumped down into the sand to meet him, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. He may have been larger than you, but you felt that you could have picked him up and swung him around.

“I’m okay.” He breathed, patting your back in reassurance. You only released him when you noticed his vision fall on Ao’nung who was standing on the dock above you. Lo’ak narrowed his eyes, starting menacingly toward him.

“Hey, hey.” Your father had appeared behind you, grabbing Lo’ak to prevent him from getting into his second fight of the day. “Let’s have a look at you.” He quickly examined your brother, who surprisingly appeared unharmed. Only a few marks here and there.

“He’s fine, he’s fine. Just a few scratches.” Jake was quick to try and wave everyone away, as if that would magically fix the situation. The tension only tightened as Neytiri arrived, assessing Lo’ak’s condition.

“I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son.” She hissed, making a clawing motion at his face. Lo’ak, however, seemed to have calmed down, an almost bored expression on his face.

“No! My son knows better than to take him outside the reef.” Tonowari spoke up, putting a hand on Ao’nung to push him down to his knee, looking more ashamed than ever. Despite what he had done to your brother, your felt a pang in your heart.

“This is not Ao’nung’s fault.” Lo’ak suddenly said, standing up straighter, and you couldn’t believe your ears. What was he doing? Even Ao’nung looked extremely taken aback. “This was my idea. Ao’nung tried to talk me out of it.” If you didn’t know him so we’ll, you might have just believed him. A stunned silence followed, no one sure of what to say in the face of such a humbling remark. Eventually, Lo’ak stiffly nodded at Tonowari and set off toward the village.

You quickly scrambled after him, dying to ask him why the hell he was suddenly being so humble.

“Lo’ak!” You panted, jogging up beside him. He didn’t slow down, but he didn’t look annoyed that you were there, either. “What was that?” You pressed. He only shrugged, making you roll your eyes. “Lo’ak, come on, why-” You didn’t get to finish before someone approached on Lo’ak’s other side.

“Why did you speak for me?” Ao’nung asked, confounded. You stayed silent, hoping Lo’ak would actually give a proper answer.

“Because I know what it’s like to be one big disappointment.” He turned to briefly meet Ao’nung’s eyes, not a hint of sarcasm or malice in his tone. He was speaking from his heart, causing yours to break a little in turn. Ao’nung stopped walking, a curious expression overtaking his face, though you and Lo’ak kept on walking. It took a good amount of self-control for you to rip your semi-murderous gaze off Ao’nung and keep walking straight. It was silent between you for a long while.

“So, what?” You finally cut in. “Are you two just on good terms now?” It was mostly a joke, but Lo’ak dipped his head into a nod.

“I’m not going to hold a grudge about it, if that’s what you mean.” He said, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What? I mean, after everything you’re not even a little bit mad? You could have died, Lo’ak.”

“Look, he apologized. He seemed weirdly genuine about it. Besides, if we keep holding grudges then this stupid revenge cycle is never going to end.” You had never, in your entire life, heard your youngest brother say something so wise. It made you wonder what really happened to him out at sea.

“Okay, mr. peacemaker. Well, I’m still gonna be pissed at him.” Lo’ak laughed at this, turning to walk backwards in order to face you. It was good to see him smiling again.

“That tracks. Hating each other seems to be your guys’ favourite game.” He grinned as you scowled.

“It’s not a game, Lo’ak. He’s actually the worst.”

“Yeah, actually the worst guy to have a crush on. That’s why you hate him.” Lo’ak snipped, his grin as wide as ever. “You hate that you like him.”

taglist:

@luvlykrispy @foreverfolkloregirly @findingourtreasure @tiddybiddy @nao-cchi @goodiesinthecloset21 @elegantkidfansoul @azaleaniath @cloakedvengeance @philiasoul @aonungmybf @joshuahongsfuturewife @shartnart1 @ayanamire @tireytesulineytiriite @bigmama123 @fucksnow @seashelldom @melsunshine @donaldsmac @littlethingsinlife @kainari144 @thesheelfsworld

#ao'nung #aonung #ao'nung x reader #aonung x reader #ao'nung x you #aonung x you #ao'nung x y/n #aonung x y/n #avatar #avatar 2 #aonung fanfiction #ao'nung fanfiction #aonung fluff #ao'nung fluff #the way of water #avatar movie #avatar the way of water #avatar imagine #atwow #atwow ao'nung

[thoughtsfromlayla]

My Dearest Defiance

Summary:  Equal as an Endless, more than a human, yet less than a god. Where did you even belong? The question has haunted you since you first saw humanity rise into power. Now your brother has been kidnapped and you can't do anything to help him.

Notes: ~7.5k words, This fic is a follow-up to this post sent in by the lovely @kpopgirlbtssvt, thank you so much for the idea! I took a few liberties with the plot and I hope that's okay with you!

Warnings: Platonic! Big Brother x little sister! Reader, *side eyes* a lot of angst, violence, physical abuse, heavy mentions of cancer, implied alcohol consumption, minor Dreaming mind-fuckery, death of Reader (you come back...ish), death of characters, comfort in the end :)

Masterlist

Mother Night and Father Time, the first lovers, the everlasting lovers. And it was through their love that the Endless were born. Your eldest brother Destiny came first, birthed in dark cloaks and the book that was named after him. He is in charge of the fate of every being to live. 

Every being who has lived must follow the path of this fate and fate always ends in Death, your eldest sister. When Mother and Father realized that the humans must do something while waiting for Death, they birthed your favorite brother, Dream. He is hope, the one who gives the humans courage to stand up for themselves and make do with their lives. Soon, humans wanted more and in succession, the rest of your siblings were born: Destruction, Desire, Despair, and sweet Delight soon to be Delierum. 

While every Endless was busy tending to their own realms and their own duties, you were born. Endless in name but not in power. You were the runt of the family, with no realm to call your own, and no responsibilities of your own. Yet here you stood amongst the humans that soon called you Defiance, the human spirit, the resilience to continue despite all odds. 

You’re sure your siblings knew of you, certainly enough to be invited to family dinner once every 100 years. Yet you could never shake the feeling of inadequacy when you were sat at the far end, only to be over-talked by everyone. They were discussing important matters, after all, nothing that you had to concern yourself with. 

You only find solace in Dream, where no matter how difficult the days get, you may always find a home in his realm. While he is adamant about letting you stay in the castle, you find it more comfortable to live in a cottage at the edge of the realm where the forest meets with the vast unknown and you grow vegetables from the soil you tow. It also allows you to escape to the waking world without Dream knowing.

You love humans, their lives fascinate you to no end. They know of you, just as they know of all of your Endless siblings, but sometimes it just takes a little more for them to realize. You would never push them to admit to your existence and somewhere along the millions of years of existence, you have given up trying to be the center of attention. 

To understand humans is to live like them, talk like them, and love like them. Unfortunately, humans are more than that and often succumb to feelings of anger, depression, righteousness, and violence. You try not to associate yourself with those emotions, but it’s innate. 

It’s been a few weeks since you stepped foot in Dream’s castle, and who could blame you? The village in which you reside is much more fun than the dreary castle your brother tends to enjoy more. The thick castle wall blocks out the sunlight, it’s filled with dust and smells of wet stones and old books. Not to mention, when Dream was busy, there was no one to talk to. Lucienne was always busy, picking up after her King, and you don’t even want to get started on Mervin. 

He’s only nice to you cause you gave him his pumpkin head when his original turnip head started going out of style. Otherwise, it’s cigar smoke being blown into your face and sassy remarks. 

You’re out in the market square when you feel the presence of your Endless Sibling. You turn from the flower vendor with a big smile and wave at Dream as he makes his way towards you. The dreams that he created step to the side in the presence of their sovereign.

“Brother!” You exclaim when he gets close enough for you, wrapping one of your arms around his while the woven basket hangs in the other. 

The basket was filled with a few apples and a fresh loaf of bread. You were just about to buy a few glass snowdrop flowers before you were pleasantly surprised by Dream. 

“How do you do this afternoon, dear sister?” He speaks, leaning into your face to tease you. 

You giggle at him as the two of you walk the main road, passing dreams and nightmares alike, a few waving at you in greeting that you return.

“I’m doing great. I was thinking of going to the waking world later today and spending some time with Death, actually.” You respond, your arm leaves Dream’s as a different vendor catches your eyes. They were selling acrylic paints in colors that you haven’t seen since half a century ago. 

“Here, hold this,” You say as you hand off your basket to Dream. He does as he’s told and holds the basket, the white paint offputting to his otherwise completely black outfit. 

You grab a few jars of paint and can already think of the wonderful things to draw when you get back into your cottage. There was a specific lake nearby that you haven’t been able to do justice to, but you think you finally can with the new color. 

A brief conversation of exchange happens between you and the vendor before you turn around. You burst out laughing at the sight before you. Dream stood in the middle of the road where you had first told him to hold your basket and hadn’t moved an inch. His shoulders were stiff and taught as he held your basket as far away from his body as possible. 

“It’s not going to bite you, you know!” You practically cackle at him. Your giggles follow you as you carefully place the jars of paint into your basket. You think that you will paint some flowers and ivy onto your basket later tonight. 

You go to take the basket back from him but he’s quick to move it away from your grabby hands. 

“You specified that I should hold it, so hold it I shall,” He says and holds the basket higher, just out of your reach, when you go to grab at it again. 

You huff at his rather stubborn behavior, but he’s been like this since the beginning. He always looks after you and takes care of you. You’re always grateful for it, but you can carry your own basket. You resolve the conversation with a roll of your eyes but the smile on your face stays in place when you turn your back to him. 

Dream walks you home, basket now significantly heavier and full of things you didn’t really need. Well, except maybe the paint, it’s good to splurge every once in a while. Your cottage is basked in a warm light as the Dreaming’s sun slowly disappears beyond the horizon to rise in another universe. The pie you had baked this morning had long since cooled and you brought it inside with a hum, your brother still following you. 

He set the basket on the simple kitchen table before taking a seat and watching you slice up the pie with a smile. You set the pastry down in front of him and another plate for yourself. The savory apple flavoring takes over the senses when you take the first delicious bite. 

“I would like you to come back to the castle soon,” Your brother says as you take another bite. 

“Whatever for?” You question, a little bit of apple filling falling out of your mouth. “The cottage is my home.”

Dream sighs but answers anyway. “I will be gone for a moment, I need to take care of a rouge nightmare,  and would like you to be cared for while I am away from the Dreaming.”

“How long will you be gone for you to want me to live in that dreadful place?” You make a face as you think about the boring days ahead of you. Well, maybe you can escape to the castle garden if Mervin isn’t paying attention. 

“I cannot tell you for I do not know.” 

You purse your lips as you think about his request. “Fine,” You groan. 

“Best not see Sister Death today.” When you don’t bother with a response he speaks against “Farwell, sister. I will be back soon,” He promises you before standing. You didn’t get the chance to follow him to the door before he leaves, his apple pie still untouched. 

“Ugh, how wasteful.” You joke to yourself. 

You spend the rest of your evening painting your basket as you had wanted before packing up a few items for the castle. Your basket was a gift from your brother and had an infinite amount of storage. So you managed to shove an extensive amount of your wardrobe, the paints, and some of the freshly baked pastries into the small wooden thing. You set off when the moon was high in the sky and the stars came down from their afternoon nap and danced in the village square. 

Their stardust shoes clink like pure jade against the cobblestone road, illuminating the otherwise quiet and sleeping town. A few wave  at you, shimmering particles following their movements before they return to their waltz. You wave back to them before continuing on your journey, mindful of where you stepped. 

When stars come down to the Dreaming they become transparent and more gaseous than solid but that doesn’t stop them from burning hot. And unless you wanted to recounter that one time you stepped through one and started sneezing and coughing stardust for the next 10 years, you’ll keep your distance - only allowing for their natural light to guide your way out of the village and towards the castle. 

By the time you reach the castle, Dream is nowhere to be found and you assume he went out to do what he mentioned earlier that day. Your room was set up for you,  Dream obviously had some palace staff tidy up the room as you took a look around the clean environment. Otherwise, everything was in the same place you had left it since the last time you were at the castle. You yawn as you set your basket down by the door. First a good night’s rest, then you can go to the waking world to do your own things. 

You sneak out of the castle a few minutes before dawn, the soft bed and good night’s rest giving you the energy you need to do so. You grimace when the door creaks loudly as you slowly open it, smelling the early morning dew on the grass and the warming dawn wind. 

“Where are you headed, my dear?” A voice stops you in your tracks. You suck your lips into your mouth as you soon recognize the voice. 

“Good morning, Lucienne,” You greet curtly, holding, or rather, hiding, your basket behind your black skirt. 

Lucienne gives you a pointed look. “Yes, good morning.” 

You give her a smile before stepping back out the door, only to be stopped when she purposefully clears her throat. 

“The question?” She presses.

You feign innocence and bat your eyelashes, not that it would work. “What question?”

“Lady Defiance, my Lord specifically states that I keep my eyes on you.” Lucienne holds her hands behind her back as she takes her stance. 

“By all means, keep your eyes - hey what’s that?!” You gawk as you point behind Lucienne. 

Lucienne snaps her head around to look at what you were so surprised by. She doesn’t see or sense anything when she does. It’s about two seconds of her searching before she realizes that she has been duped. When she turns around the door is swinging shut and you are nowhere to be seen. She slams the door open and only sees the last of your figure disappearing on the horizon.

You’re still giggling to yourself about pulling off that little trick when you reach the ocean of the Dreaming. The little wooden dock creaks under your weight as you skip across it. Having done this traveling before, you jump right in with a squeal, holding your nose close so you don’t get any water in. 

The water pushes and pulls but you don’t fight the current knowing that it will take you where you wanted to go. When you emerge, you cough once and the water falls off your body, leaving you dry in cloudy 1916 England. You wrap your blazer closer to your body as the wind picks up and leave the alleyway. The familiar smell of roasted peanuts from street vendors and car fumes tickles your nose when you turn the corner to walk into the hospital. 

“Hi, I’m here to visit Genny, uh, Geniveve, Geniveve Colemen,” You correct yourself to the receptionist. The woman nods and looks down at her computer. 

“She’s in the same room, 443. Here’s your visitor’s pass.” She hands you a laminated badge on a lanyard. 

You thank her before wearing the lanyard and going towards the nearest elevator. The elevator smelled of shoe polish and disinfectant spray and it made your nose crinkle. You just hope the smell doesn’t transfer onto your clothes. 

When you reach your destination, you knock on Genny’s door before entering. She wears her hospital gown and was reading a book when she looks up. A smile pasters onto her face when she sees you.

“Y/N!” She drops her book and sits up straighter. 

“Genny!” You exclaim back with the same amount of excitement. You place your basket by her bed before pulling out a fresh vase of flowers and setting it by her bedside table. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, what have you been up to?” She asks.

“Yeah, my mother took me to some private tutor to help me study for my tests,” You lie through your teeth as you fluff the flowers to make them look more appealing. 

You tuck your school skirt underneath you when you sit down next to Genny and reach for your basket again. “I brought you some homebaked goods. I know this hospital’s food has got to be horrendous.” 

You bring out the baked loaf of bread you bought the day before and rip off a slice for her. She takes the loaf and inhales the scent. 

“Gosh, Y/N, I don’t know how you make such good baked goods. Your husband will be a lucky one if you stop trying to chase them off.” She giggles and muffles through her full mouth. 

You laugh with her, sparing her the details of your actual life. You bring forth the lie you had carefully planted yourself as instead. A straight-A student that goes to the same school as Genny before she was diagnosed with cancer, how you were her best friend that visited her when you got the chance, how you had gotten onto the school council and despite all of her poking and prodding, she would not get to know what the school formal’s dance theme is going to be unless she went with you tomorrow to the dance. You try not to think about how frail she has gotten since the first time you’ve met her. Her collarbones were poking out and you can see how hard it was for her to take even breaths. 

When she asks you again later in the visit about the school dance you rebuttal quickly. 

“Are you going to come to the dance with me?” You laugh. “Speaking of which, I got you a dress, too!” You go back to your basket, pulling out a formal dress, and setting it in front of Genny. 

“Wow! Look at the bead stitching,” She says, running a delicate finger over the beading and gems then over the lacing. 

“I’ve got a good eye, don’t I?” You sit back down with a smile and a tilt of the head. “It matches my dress, too.”

“What about your own date?”

“Oh, please, I don’t have time for boys!” You giggle again, hiding behind the lie that you don’t actually go to her school. 

“Oh alright, I suppose I must go to the dance with you so you won’t be lonely.” Genny surrenders. 

You smile at her, happy she finally agreed. “You’re a great friend.” 

Genny coughs after your compliment and you’re quick to reach for the water and hand it over to her. When she sits up to drink you go to fluff her pillow. Genny lays back down with a sigh and all of the warmth that was in the room leaves through the window. She looks like she’s aged when she looks at you again, another cough crawling its way past her throat. 

“I’ll leave you to rest,” You say, turning around to grab your things. 

“No,” Genny refuses. “Can you stay for a little bit longer?” She coughs again and holds your hand weakly. “I want to feel like a normal girl for a little while longer.”

“Okay,” You whisper and sit back down, feeling the chill of the hospital around your ankles. 

You watch over her as she falls asleep, the conversation taking the last of her energy. You begin to stare off into space, thinking about your life. You did your best with the gift of immortality, but as you stare at Genny’s tense face, you wish you could do more. Equal as an Endless, more than a human, yet less than a god. Where did you even belong? The question has haunted you since you first saw humanity rise into power. 

Your thoughts leave you when you feel the beating of wings and a flush of wind from the door. Your head snaps and you see your sister standing there in her black tank top and the same combats boots you wore. 

“Sister Death,” You greet with a small smile, previous thoughts disappearing. “What brings you here today?” 

Your sister only smiles at you. Your excitement of seeing your sister again is soon taken over by dread. You look between your sister and your friend and the dots connect. 

“Oh... what? No!” You stand abruptly between your sister and Genny. “No! She still has so much to do in life!” You try to reason with her. 

“You cannot bargain with me, Defiance. You know that,” She says in her soft voice. 

“I don’t care,” Your lips form into a line. “At least let her go to the dance with me?” You try one more time. 

Death sighs with exaggeration. “Fine, but not an hour more.” 

“Thanks…” You’re not entirely sure how you managed to pull that off, unbeknownst to you that your sister has a soft spot for you much like Dream. 

Your sister looks you up and down before she leans on the door. “So how are you doing, then?” 

You look off to the side when you answer. “Fine,” You grumble out. 

She lets out a huff, or perhaps a laugh, you can’t really tell. “Would you like to go on a walk with me?”

It was a tempting offer, after all, you haven’t spent time with your sister in a while. You thought about it for a little while longer. “No,” You end up refusing. 

“Genny asked me to stay a little while longer, so I shall.” You turn away from your sister and sit back down in the uncomfortable hospital chair. You keep your head straight, looking after Genny, and don’t take your eyes off her even when you hear your sister departing. 

When she does, a tremble runs over your body. You feel tears prick at your lashline as you come to terms with the fact that your friend will be dying soon. You did your best to prevent the inevitable, but with no powers of your own, it’s only a waiting game now. 

You leave when visiting hours are over, Genny has yet to wake up from her nap. You leave the rest of the loaf on her bedside table, and a slice of your apple pie. You decide to tidy up the room as quietly as you can and hang her dress on the hook that was nailed to the wall. With one final look at her, you leave, only hoping that your sister doesn’t go back on her word and take her before her allotted time. 

You spend the rest of the evening in the waking world, catching up on new things the humans have done with their time. You end your day on a park bench, illuminated only by a single street lamp. The park was quiet, you’re only accompanied by the sound of crickets and the wind along the trees. You take in a deep breath of fresh air. Oh, how you have missed this. If only it was closer to summer vacation, you would’ve taken Genny to the beach and had some sun time with her. 

When you are done relaxing you go to the pond at the center of the park, the fountain in the middle still squirting out water and creating magnificent shapes and splashes along the surface. You could see the stars' reflection rippling as you peer at the lake over a bridge. The wind blows and you close your eyes to savor the moment. 

“I wouldn’t jump if that’s what you’re thinking,” Someone says next to you. 

You open your eyes and turn to see a man standing next to you, no older than 20. He takes off his hat when you speak. 

“I wasn’t, but thank you,” You reply simply and go back to looking out towards the expanding city. He doesn’t leave your side despite your answer and it gets a bit awkward.

“Are you thinking of jumping? Because I would also not recommend that, sir,” You turn to him again and see him laughing. 

“No,” He says. “I am just here to think.”

“Just like me then. What bothers your mortal mind?” You ask. 

“Many things… I’m afraid I have let my family down.” 

“How so?”

“We came here on a boat from the motherland, nothing to our name but a few pennies. I was supposed to go to college and finally put our family on the map. But I failed and now here I am, talking to a stranger on a bridge in the middle of the night.”

You laugh along with him. You knew of him and saw his dreams a few times when you went out exploring in the Dreaming. He wanted to be a doctor, specifically an athletic injuries doctor but failed out of medical school before he even got the chance. You rack your brain to think of his name, and when it comes to you, you speak. 

“Do not worry, Albert Brocken, I’m sure there are many opportunities that will come alight in the near horizon. Perhaps you should take the entrance exam again, and see where it takes you.” You yawn and you realize that you should probably start heading home. 

“Yeah… maybe I should,” He concludes with a sigh. “I think I might go into somnology,” He says more to himself than you. 

“Somnology sounds fascinating,” You agree. “I must go home now, but best of luck to you!” You walk away, your shoes barely audible on the stone bridge over the gushing fountain. Albert doesn’t look your way when you depart, too focused on his new goal in life. 

You find yourself standing before an old winding cottonwood tree in the same park. It’s been here for years, growing into the magnificent tree it is today. It’s passed by thousands of England residents almost every day, yet none of them are willing to stare at it hard enough to realize that the bark of the tree isn’t real. 

You take one last look around the park to make sure no one else sees you before walking straight into the tree, the danging leaves caressing you like a gentle mother’s touch. The trunk of the tree turns into a curtain of falling sand and you pass through with no problems. When you emerge on the other side, the bright moon of the Dreaming greets you, illuminating and basking you in a soft welcome. When you come back into the castle, Lucienne is on top of you like a hot iron. 

“Thank the Gods you are well,” She panics as she holds your arms. After taking a good overall look at you, she wraps her arms around your body and brings you into a hug. 

“Lucienne?” Your question muffled against her crisp uniform. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, my dear, you hadn’t come back all day. I thought perhaps…” She trails off before she takes a breath. “Lord Morpheus hasn’t returned, and neither had you, so I presumed the worst.”

“Morpheus hasn’t returned?”

“No, but you are here. Tell me, did you see him while you were in the waking world today?” Lucienne holds hope in her eyes and you resent the next word you say.

“No,” Your thoughts trailed off. “Morpheus hasn’t returned?” You ask again.

“I am sure there is nothing to worry about. I may just be overthinking is all.” Lucienne reassures you. 

“Okay…” You don’t completely believe her, somewhere deep inside you you can feel that Morpheus is in danger. As the King of Dreams and Nightmares, a rouge nightmare shouldn’t be anything to be worried about. He should be home by now. 

Your eyes close as soon as your head hits the pillow, but thoughts consume you. After the dance tomorrow night with Genny, you will go searching for your brother. The following day came quickly and you paced back and forth in the castle hall, the formal dress you had on jingling with your movements. Your thoughts were in overdrive, there was Morpheus of course, but you also knew that tonight was going to be Genny’s last day. And knowing that puts a weight on your shoulders. You have to make sure that tonight is going to be the best night of her life. 

When the time came, you went to the waking world feeling dolled up and in an antique car with the roof down. Your hair had enough hairspray to survive a storm from Zeus himself. You pull up to the hospital in a screech, Genny already waiting for you in the lobby. You check your lipstick in the mirror one last time before Genny reaches your car. 

“You know how to drive?!” Genny says with a smile and excitement that you found contagious. 

You resecure the silk scarf that protected your hair from the wind and open a pair of sunglasses to put over your eyes. You look at her over the bridge of your nose, your eyes shining past the sunglasses before stepping on the gas pedal.

“I know how to do many things, sweet Genny!” You shout over the wind, pushing the glasses back to their original position. 

Each time you looked over at Genny, her smile still hadn’t faltered and the last bits of the sun’s rays caught on the embroidery of her dress. Her softness brings a smile to your face and for a moment you forget about your brother. 

You pull into the gravel driveway of the school formal’s destination. You had managed to weasel your way into the school council and they were able to get help from the local people. The theme for this year's dance was “A Magical Night” and a local citizen opened his manor to the students for the night. He called himself a mage, something that you rolled your eyes at as magic has been rare in this world since the faeries left it half a century ago. But you kept that to yourself, if he wanted to play make-believe, then so let him. 

Students were already lining up outside the decorated manor when the two of you arrived. You hand your keys off to a valet and walk towards the door, hand in hand with Genny. Her excitement buzzed through her like a shot of tequila. 

When you cross over the threshold of the manor you are genuinely surprised at the decorations of the place. The ballroom had been cleared out and a live band was playing music for students to dance to. There was a bar on the far end of the ballroom serving drinks and small snacks. A doorman takes your jacket away from you before you grab Genny’s hand and head to the dance floor. 

Many of Genny’s old friends soon recognize her and start to surround you two, the night is still young and the sound of laughter soon fills the air. You and Genny danced the night away until you both were sweaty and out of breath. Your make-up had gone a bit smudged but you didn’t mind. It was nearing midnight when most of the students started to leave and you pulled Genny away for one last surprise. 

Genny started to slow down a bit, the exercise of the dance sapping away her energy. She pulls through though and follows you to a winding staircase that leads to one of the roofs of the manor. The spring air chills you to your bone, but it is well received after the sweat you have built up. You help Genny sit down before you sit down next to her, the shingles of the roof poking through your dress in an uncomfortable way. 

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips when you look out to the vast countryside behind the manor. The stars twinkle as far as the eyes can see and from your advantage point, no trees are blocking the view either. Genny pants beside you as she calms herself down from the climb and leans her head against your shoulder. 

“I am so glad you made me come to this dance,” She whispers as she looks out to the stars. 

“Me too,” You agree, you begin the absentmindedly swing your legs back and forth. Your heels come loose and slip from your feet and both you and Genny laugh at it. 

“Gosh, I hope that didn’t hit anyone,” She continues to laugh as she cautiously peers over the side. 

“Or else they’d have to smell my stinky feet, ewww!” You continue her joke. 

Her laugh turns into a cough and your mood shifts to melancholy. 

A shift in the winds tells you that her time will soon be up. “Genny,” You start. “My sister is going to be here soon.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yes, I have a huge family actually.”

“Well, tell me about your sister,” She smiles, head feeling heavier as she puts her full weight on your shoulder. 

“She is really sweet, and a soft, kind-hearted soul. Just like you, I suppose.” You say. 

Genny doesn’t reply and tears prick your eyes. When you turn your head you see Genny standing up with a smile, yet her body still remains on your shoulder. Behind her stands your sister, a reassuring smile and a gentle hand rest around Genny in a side hug. 

“Your sister says that she’ll take great care of me,” She starts and looks at Death with a solemn smile. “Will she?” 

“Yeah, she’s one of the best…” Your voice dips into a murmur as you feel your lips tremble. 

Your answer is enough for her and she turns to leave. She seems to have remembered something as she turns back around and wraps her hands around your shoulders, her ghostly figure slightly falling through your physical form. 

“I’ll see you again, right?” Genny asks, hope lines her figure and you can’t bear to see it fade. 

“Yes,” You lie through your teeth. “Good-bye.” 

She turns to leave with your sister, blissfully unaware of your last farewell. The sound of Death’s beating wings was the last thing you heard before it was just the barren countryside again. Genny’s body grows cold by your side as you pet her hair for the last time. 

The manor staff came soon when you faked a scream and soon ambulances came and went with her body. You’re left in the aftermath of a romantic dream of confection and ribbons alone in the middle of the dance floor feeling numb. 

“Hey, lady, if you’re going to stand here moping you can at least help out,” A staff member calls out and you snap out of your thoughts. 

He hands you a few foldable chairs and tells you to put them up. You nodded along, not really having much else to do. You meander through the halls when you realize that he didn’t tell you where to put the chairs. It’s when you find yourself at a set of stairs that lead down towards the basement. And to you, it made all logical sense for humans to store their things in the basement. 

You open the heavy double doors and descend further into the musky basement. Candles were lit on the stairs and its melted wax coats the edges as it lightens the path. When you get to the bottom, you’re greeted by the host of the party that you met earlier in the night. 

“What are you doing here, girl!” He scolds. 

You hold up the chairs, unaware of his tone. “Hi, Mr. Burgess. I’m helping with clearing up after the dan…” Your final word trails off as your eyes wander past his figure. 

Behind him sits your brother and your jaw drops. Mr. Burgess tries to stand between you and him when he notices that your attention is no longer on him. Dream stands fully in his glass prison and you would have made fun of the fact that he was fully rocking out in his birthday suit if not for the situation at hand. 

“Oh, what the fuck,” You whisper, dropping the chairs.

You breeze past Mr. Burgess and stand before Morpheus. Golden runes that surround his prison stop you short as if there was some sort of invisible force field. Your head whips around and faces your host again. He stands tall as he stares back. 

“Why do you have my brother in a-a… fucking FISH BOWL!” Your words stumble out at the utter audacity of the situation, your hands moving around expressively. 

Realization dawns on him and you realize that you made a mistake. “So, you are one of his family. That man warned me about your kind. Which one are you.” He seethes as he walks towards you. 

“You face Defiance of the Endless,” You spit back at him.

You were in no mood to play, first, your friend dies in your arms and then you learn that Lucienne’s suspicions were right and that something did happen to your brother. This whole time he had been here under your feet while you were having fun. His clothes, tools, and dignity stripped from him as you drank enough sparkling cocktails to make Dionysus jealous. 

The man scoffs at you and spits at your feet. “Oh please, and I thought that it was going to be hard. I’ve heard of you, little girl. They told me that you are nothing, a nobody. You have no realm, no powers, you are barely a god.”

You stay silent as he speaks, rage flushes through your body and your muscles tremble. His words rang true, but here you shall stand for your brother. He advances on you and you find that you have nowhere to go. A sharp pain burns across your cheek as his pierced cane comes into contact with your skin. 

Your body follows the force as it throws you off balance. Your head cracks against the stone floor of the basement and a gasp leaves you. Your vision blurs from the hit and you feel warm blood sliding down your cheek like an unshed tear. In the distance of your mind, you hear Dream slamming his fist against his glass prison. You stand again, determined to not be bested by a mere mortal. 

His cane comes down again like a whip, hitting your shins and then once again on the back of your knees. The blow forces you to kneel before him, and your cries of pain echo in your head. The coarse floor scratches at your palm but you keep your breath as even as you can. 

“Is that all you got?” You sneer as you look up at him through your eyelashes. 

His foot comes towards your face and you squeeze your eyes shut right before the impact follows. Your body tumbles further away from Dream, but his slamming continues. You feel the wall behind you, its surface cooling down your heating body. 

“Stop, I command you to stop!” Morpheus shouts, command muffled.

“Dream of the Endless commands you to stop,” You repeat your brother's words. You use the wall to brace yourself to stand on wobbling legs.

Iron fills your mouth and you spit it out back at Burgess’ feet, much like he did to you before. You grin when you see him grimace at the act. You wipe your mouth clean with the back of your hand, very unladylike, but between the three of you, who is going to judge? 

A backhanded slap snaps your head to the side and another painful scream follows. 

“Stop! Cease yourself or face my wrath!” Dream continues to scream as your vision blurs again. 

“No, I can take it,” Your voice is coarse but the message is heard loud and clear. 

“Oh, you can take it, hmm?” Burgess taunts and his cane jabs into your abdomen. 

You feel like you couldn’t breathe, that no matter how much your mouth gaped open, oxygen didn’t fill in your lungs as you needed it to. 

“I can take it,” You wheeze out again, another hit forces you back down and this time you don’t have the strength to get up again. 

“I suppose one step higher than capturing an Endless is to kill one,” Burgess laughs on top of you. His heavy body straddles you and you feel his hands wrap around your neck. 

Black dots swarm your vision like the expanding universe. Your nails claw at his hands, drawing blood, as your body tries its best to fight back. Burgess picks you up by the neck and slams your back down, stars waltz behind your eyelids and a brief vision of home comforts you. A ragged breath crawls through your throat before another slam into the ground silences you. Despite your efforts, your hands grow limp and you feel your body start to break down. It flakes away like spring cherry blossom petals as you take your last breath. 

“No!” Dream’s scream is the last thing you hear. 

Your consciousness fades to black and it is quiet for once. It’s odd to think that an immortal being can die, but it’s true. The only thing that differentiates it is that you could be reborn. Immortality is a fickle thing. 

When you come back into consciousness, you can feel the Dreaming heal your soul. It wraps its warmth around you like a soft blanket and you finally feel safe enough to stop everything that ran through your mind. When you stretch out your limbs you realize that you weren’t in your human form anymore. 

Your perception spans further and you can see new angles you haven’t seen before through your eyes. You wiggle your toes, or what you thought were your toes and feel soft and fertilizing soil below you. When you look down you notice that your legs have turned into the soft bark of a willow tree. Your arms shake and the reaching leaves of the tree shake from the action. You sigh and your bark groans and creeks under your deflation. 

You soon become a welcomed resident in Fiddler’s Green, providing shade for the decreasing amount of dreamers that come to visit you. As the years pass, the Dreaming starts to die around you as Morpheus stays entrapped under the Burgess Manor. You stay as a tree, unable to move and help. Guilt eats you alive, leaving your core to rot from the inside out. 

Lucienne comes to visit now and then, but as the castle starts to fall apart, she can’t find the time to come by anymore. Your days grow lonelier as Fiddler’s Green decides to leave the Dreaming as well. You stand on dry soil in a barren wasteland. Your inaction keeping you hostage like a ladybug in a spiderweb. The more you struggled, the harder you found it to keep your human consciousness. 

So, you did the most human you could think of: you cried. Fitting, you thought to yourself, a weeping willow, well, weeping. Your tears came to fruition in the form of vibrant yellow blossoming flowers against the beige and cracking surroundings. 

You stayed like that for the next 106 years. Your roots had grown so long that you could feel each corner of the dreaming, searching high and low for water to drink from. Soon, even that would run out. Another tear runs down your bark, your trunk growing deep grooves where the previous century of tears had carved. Despite all odds, your leaves were still vibrant and your flowers would change colors based on your mood. A trick that took you a few decades to learn. 

The moon rises higher and higher over the horizon. You follow its path, counting the fragments to keep your mind from boredom. It split in half 15 years after Dream’s capture and every five years or so, another fragment separates from the moon. You counted 18 fragments this time around, the same as the day before, and the week before that. You yawn, the bark shaking as you do so and close your eyes to rest.

You wake to a soft hand on your bark just as dawn cracks. Your leaves shake in surprise as someone touches you. It takes a moment to reorientate yourself and when you look down from your height your breath hitches. 

“Sister?” Dream calls out, his hand still on your bark. 

Relief floods your system just as a soft breeze runs its fingers through your thin leaves. Your catkin flowers caress his skin when he smiles at you. Just as fast as relief has found you, guilt consumes you again. Morpheus has escaped, it had taken him 106 years and all you have done is stand here and do nothing. Your branches groan again, more flowers blooming in its wake as you weep again, and the individual petals turn a deep blue color. 

Dream grabs one of your leaves gently as it tries to recede from his touch. “Y/N,” He calls out carefully. “I do not blame you for what happened 106 years ago.”

“I am touched by your sacrifice.” He pauses as he picks his next words carefully. “You were the only one who came to my side when I needed it.” 

You still stay quiet but your petals slowly start to return to their yellow colors. Morpheus takes this as a good sign and continues. 

“I love you, dear sister, I wish for you to never doubt that. If only I could give you a hug for all that you had done for me,” He prods and extends both of his hands outwards. 

You purse your non-existent lips in thought, a very tempting offer. Why not try one more time, to be by your brother’s side? Your bark groans again and you concentrate. You try to remember the details of your human body. How did your hair look? How did you hold yourself? Did you have a mole on this side of your face? 

Your leaves and branches start to shake and shrink in on themselves the more you think. You call in your roots and start to wiggle your toes. You think of your fingers and how they had done so much for you: the paintings you made, the pastries you baked. One last tear escapes down your raw skin and when you open your eyes again, you are looking at Dream through new eyes. 

Morpheus comes into your space and wraps his steadying arms around you. You sob into his jacket until it becomes uncomfortable. Your throat is raw when you’re finally reduced to hiccups. Through it all, Dream is holding onto you, gently caressing your hair the way you have liked since you were born. 

“I like this new hair of yours,” He comments as he pulls at a few strands of your hair. It’s longer this time around and kept the same emotional properties your flowers had. It changes from blue to green as your mood shifts. 

“Great, now I can’t hide my emotions anymore.” You mutter weakly to yourself as it changes to red at your slight annoyance. 

Dream chuckles above you and gives you one final tight squeeze. 

“Welcome home, sister,” He whispers. You take a deep breath, letting it fill your lungs thoroughly. 

“Yes, I am home.” 

I did a surprising amount of research for this fic. Apparently, the first woman to attain a driver's license was like in 1900 so that's why Genny was so surprised you could drive. Also, I would not recommend driving in a 1916 vehicle? Looks like it could explode at any minute.

This was a request! And requests are open, just go to my page and hit that button to submit one.

If you do submit a request, it may take me a bit to get to them just because of the nature of it and my classes are starting to get ready for finals. (Your girl is graduating this semester woohoo!)

I will see you in the next fic!

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #sandman x reader #siblings #sibling reader #platonic relationships #platonic #x reader #angst with a happy ending #angst #reincarnation

[benkeibear]

⋆꙳✧༄ Relationship Headcanons

꒰ ͜͡➸ What a relationship with Kongo would be like. (Age gap!)

❖ Character: Kongo

❖ Reader: genderneutral

❖ WARNINGS: Age gap. Reader is (much) younger than Kongo!

❖ A/n: Want to see more? Sign up for the Taglist in my Navi! | MY MAN MY MAN I couldn't resist!! Kongo lovers please step forward and giggle with me

ꕤ Kongo can’t believe how lucky he got to have met you and that you allow him to pour all his love onto you.

ꕤ He hesitated a long time to make his feelings known officially. You knew for quite awhile already, or at least you suspected it by the way he treated you but you didn't want to ask him out, fearing that it would be inappropriate or that you're not good enough.

ꕤ He's a well respected man, an unshakable mountain but when it comes to you he suddenly forgets how to speak. You quite literally steal his breath away.

ꕤ You were unsure if he needed your help the first time you met, stammering around and his words made no sense either. He took a deep breath to save further embarrassment and started anew.

ꕤ You make him feel soft and light as a feather, allowing him to be himself and never judging him for it.

ꕤ Oh and how he adores it when you fawn over him, pointing out how strong he is and even going as far as raking your fingers over his defined muscles - it makes him feel so good about himself.

ꕤ Sure he was a little worried about the age gap and what his sons would think at first when he introduced you as his new partner, but barely any of them cared more than cocking an eyebrow. They knew better though and politely welcomed you into the family.

ꕤ Hibaru however was obsessed with you to the point where Kongo needed to tell him to calm down but the young boy just wanted to get to know you, the person who makes his father smile so much. He had no ill intentions towards you and viewed you like another cool older sibling rather than a potential new parent.

ꕤ Kongo kisses the floor you walk on, no wish too big, no desire remaining unfulfilled.

ꕤ He is so proud to call you his too, showing you off at every opportunity he had. He feels like he is the man when you held onto his arm in public, even your pinky finger linked with his is enough to make him feel superior.

ꕤ There's definitely flowers every week just so he can tell you that no matter how pretty the bouquet is, you're much more beautiful to him.

ꕤ In general he doesn't mind spoiling you, wanting to show you that you're worth everything to him. He would gladly sell his soul for you too.

ꕤ That man is so in love with you he can't stop stealing glances and smiling to himself like an idiot because you're his.

ꕤ Please fawn over his muscles, he won't ever complain about it and instead he lifts you up just to show off how strong he is, muscles rippling underneath your touch.

ꕤ He's also a walking furnace and keeps you warm on even the coldest days. Have cold hands? He will engulf them with his big ones and presses kisses over your knuckles.

ꕤ Kongo adores it when you play with his chin beard. Feel free to braid it or tug on it when you want him to lean down for a kiss.

ꕤ No matter how angry he is at you or for any other reason, he would never get violent. He won't even raise his voice. Give him some time to cool off and he will talk it out with you.

ꕤ That being said he sometimes craves to be held. He's that big strong man but he finds solace in your arms. Let him crawl into them, resting between your legs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, let him hide and forget about the horrible day. He craves your touch in a non sexual way on these days.

ꕤ If it's up to him you don't need to work or anything but he won't tell you what to do either - if you want some independence - he supports whatever you want.

ꕤ Kongo is overall just so happy to be your partner and he's loyal to the bone, expecting the same of you but next to that he enjoys a happy, carefree life with you.

ꕤ If you're up to it he would also like to make the family bigger with your help by either getting more children or adopting them.

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

#Rhy writes ♡ #negai no astro x reader #Astro Royale x reader #kongo x reader #kongo fluff #negai no astro #negai no astro fluff #astro royale #kongo yotsurugi x reader #astro royale fluff #negai no astro kongo #astro royale kongo #kongo yotsurugi

[girlfromthecrypt]

𝕊𝕦𝕔𝕙 ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤

[Interactive fiction, Demo TBA]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

You play as a counselor for the understaffed and underfunded Cloverleaf program. Your job is to organize and oversee a cabin camping holiday for children from troubled homes. Working hard alongside you are your four allies (and potential friends/lovers) Basil Laurier, Anita Merrick and the siblings Flo and Reem Malak.

Unfortunately, the campsite you're tasked with preparing is nothing short of decrepit. Still, you'll make the best of it, right? As you and your colleagues undertake repairs and cleaning efforts (and possibly get to know each other a little better), you keep finding yourself in increasingly unsettling situations.

But surely there's no reason to worry, right?

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

Welcome to Camp Solace!

This picturesque cabin campsite is situated in the middle of nowhere, directly next to the beautiful Lake Solace and flanked by acres of woodland, far removed from the bustle of civilization. In fact, it'd take you quite a while to reach the nearest town in case of an emergency. You'd best make sure nothing goes wrong.

Camp Solace was established in the 1980s. In 2022, the site was bought out by the wealthy Laurier family who plan to overturn it to appeal to “a higher class of customers”. But not before offering it to the Cloverleaf program for the season, free of charge. The things people do for their public image…

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

For the duration of the holiday as well as its lengthy preparations and follow-up work, you will be relying on the support of your four closest colleagues.

Basil Laurier (M, trans, late twenties): The eldest son of the Laurier family. He's volunteering at Cloverleaf. Wealthy, though he tries not to seem it. Van-lifer, nature lover and dedicated spiritualist. Skilled craftsman. Enjoys building things and blowing them up after. Harmonious, cheerful and snarky.

Anita Merrick (F, mid twenties): Student of psychology doing her internship with the Cloverleaf program. Has a bachelor's degree in information technology. Smart, kind and chronically sleep-deprived. Enjoys a good book and fancy coffee. Certified softie. Easily scared (she's in for a bad time, the poor thing).

Reem Malak (F, early thirties): Music teacher, band guitarist and vocalist. Volunteering at Cloverleaf. Flo’s older half-sister. Also plays drums and percussion, sax, piano, bass… and bagpipes. Impulsive, passionate and energetic. Enjoys doing yoga and lifting weights. The cool girl. Very tall.

Flo Malak (M, late twenties): Martial arts teacher who gives classes for both adults and children. Also volunteering at Cloverleaf. Taekwondo, Krav Maga. Silent, kind and not without his quirks. Reem calls him “socially challenged”. Enjoys obscure media and monster movies. Even taller than his sister.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕣 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣

Your player character's age will be kept ambiguous, though it’s implied that you’re in same age range as the romance options (meaning your twenties to thirties). 

Play as M, F or NB; gay, straight, bi, ace or keep your orientation undefined (Note: Such Happy Campers is very character-driven with a focus on romantic love and interpersonal connections).

Customize your looks and vibe; choose your strengths, personality and outfit!

#if: intro #if: wip #choice script #hosted games #interactive fiction #interactive story #interactive novel #horror fiction #horror romance #original fiction #creative writing #writers on tumblr #horror writing #original writing #amwriting #original character #original characters #wip intro

[mimisempai]

You are enough

Summary

Aziraphale wants to surprise his lover by bringing him his daily dose of coffee at the flower shop and is surprised to find the store closed. With Muriel's help, he learns more about the scars of Crowley's past and may be able to help him heal.

Notes

Our bookseller and our florist learn to know each other a little better...

On Ao3

Rating G -  1901 words

Aziraphale put on his jacket, hung the small "Closed" sign on his door, and left the bookshop to cross the street to Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death. He had decided not to open, at least for the morning, and instead to supply a certain florist with caffeine.

With his hand on the door of the coffee shop, he stopped and noticed that the flower shop was not open. There was no stall of fresh plants and flowers, and there seemed to be no movement inside.

Instinctively, he shot a questioning look at Nina through the window, pointing to the flower shop, but Nina shook her head and shrugged.

Aziraphale walked up to the shop and saw a small sign on the door, "Closed for today."

Surprise turned to slight concern, as his lover hadn't mentioned it at all, even though they'd spent the evening together the day before. Aziraphale dared to knock lightly on the door.

"He's not in."

He looked up in the direction of the voice and saw Muriel leaning out of the window as they added, "I'll be right down."

A few seconds later, Crowley's adopted sibling had opened the door and invited the bookseller into the shop.

Aziraphale, now genuinely concerned, immediately asked, "Is he all right? Where is he?"

Muriel put a hand on his arm and said quietly, "Calm down. I'll answer your questions right away, but first I need to explain something to you."

Aziraphale nodded and Muriel continued, "I know Crowley told you about his childhood and his history. The major lasting consequence for him is not the fear of abandonment, although that is one - I speak from experience - no, the major lasting consequence for him is the feeling of inadequacy. I'm not going to go into the details of how he was abandoned, because that's his story to tell, but you should know that this is his deepest wound. And when that scar opens up, he's in what we refer to as one of his bad days. He isolates himself and usually doesn't talk to anybody. Not even me."

Aziraphale, very sad for Crowley, asked them, "And is there any way I can support him, anything I can do?"

Muriel gave him a long, silent look before replying, "Maybe it will be different with you, so I'll tell you where I think he is. For as long as I can remember, don't ask me why, that's for him to tell, Crowley has found solace in ducks."

She couldn't help smiling at the stunned look on the bookseller's face and added, "You heard me, Crowley has a passion for ducks. He's inexhaustible on the subject. But I digress. I was saying that he finds solace in them, and that's probably why he's in Saint James Park. There's a particular spot not far from the pond with a bench near the Blue Bridge, and that's usually where you'll find him."

Aziraphale nodded and said eagerly, "I'll go there."

Muriel held him back and said gently, "We haven't really had time to talk since you and Crowley... well, you know what I mean. But I wanted to tell you..."

Aziraphale interrupted, "I promise I won't hurt him."

Muriel shook their head and replied, "Oh, that? I'm sure of that, right from the start. I was going to say, don't let him push you away. Be patient."

Aziraphale nodded and said softly, "I promise," then turned to leave when they stopped him by tugging at his sleeve and the next second held him close and said in a whisper, "Thank you."

Aziraphale, unaccustomed to this kind of display of affection, patted Muriel awkwardly on the back, then Muriel stepped back and chuckled slightly before saying, "You and Crowley really are alike.

Just under half an hour later, Aziraphale arrived at Saint James Park, and thanks to Muriel's directions, it didn't take him long to find the spot in question, pleased to see that they had been right.

Crowley was indeed sitting on the bench across from the pond, and unfortunately, even from a distance, Aziraphale could see that it was indeed a bad day.

He continued on his way and sat down next to the florist without saying anything.

Crowley immediately whispered, "Aziraphale, I know it was Muriel who told you where to find me, but I'm sure they also told you that I want to be alone."

Aziraphale nodded and replied quietly, "I know they told me, but I won't say anything and I won't make a sound, so it's like you're alone."

Then he leaned back comfortably and looked straight ahead without saying anything more. 

After a few seconds of silence, Crowley huffed and muttered, "Suit yourself..."

Aziraphale watched the people pass by, saying nothing, not moving, when suddenly Crowley muttered, "Don't give them bread, you idiot. Ducks shouldn't eat bread."

Then he stood up, and Aziraphale saw him walk over to a man at the water's edge who seemed to be throwing breadcrumbs to the ducks swarming around. Amused, he watched as Crowley scolded the poor man, showing him a small bag in his hand. The other man walked away with an exasperated look under Crowley's murderous gaze. Then Aziraphale saw the florist turn toward the water, crouch down, and start throwing things at the ducks, but he couldn't tell what it was from where he sat.

After a few moments, Crowley returned and sat down on the bench again, this time a little closer to Aziraphale, who still said nothing and waited patiently.

Suddenly, he felt Crowley's hand on his, resting between them on the bench. Aziraphale still said nothing, simply returning his hand under Crowley's, whose fingers were almost desperately intertwined with his own.

"I told you I lived in an orphanage, but what I didn't tell you was how I got there. I warn you, it's worthy of Dickens." He gave a self-deprecating chuckle and continued, "I was purely and simply dumped at the gates of the orphanage on what seemed like the day I was born. With only a chain bracelet on my wrist, engraved with Anthony's name."

"Is your name Anthony?"

"Yes, but since that's the name my parents who abandoned me gave me, I don't like to wear it."

Aziraphale frowned and asked, "Then why Crowley?"

Crowley replied, "It was the name of the gardener who took me under his wing, and since he was the closest thing I had to a father, I chose that name, which in fact became my given name. Only Muriel sometimes calls me Anthony to tease me or when they're angry."

Crowley sighed and continued, "Anyway, the reason I'm here today is because sometimes I wake up in the morning and wonder why. What did I or didn't I have that made my parents decide to leave me. Why did they do that? Why did my mother decide to bring me into the world and just abandon me without giving me a chance to show her who I could be? Wasn't I enough as a baby, as a son?"

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's hand in his, inwardly devastated for him, for his pain, and replied softly, "Of course you were. Of course you are. There was and is nothing wrong with you. Believe me, I know a thing or two about feeling inadequate when it comes to my family. Aside from my mother, the rest of my family, including my father, made it clear that I would never be enough. And then I left and realized that the problem wasn't me. I don't have to prove anything. You don't have to prove anything. I'm sure if I ask Muriel, they'll go on and on about why they love you as much as I l-"

Aziraphale paused, aware of what he had almost confessed. Not that he wasn't absolutely sure of the nature of his feelings for the florist, but now was not the time for such a confession as he was trying to comfort him.

Which didn't stop him from seeing in Crowley's eyes that the florist hadn't missed his almost slip of the tongue.

Aziraphale coughed, then continued, "I have no doubt that this wound will never go away, but when the scar opens, think of the people you have around you now who love and appreciate you for what you are, for who you are."

He squeezed Crowley's hand a little tighter in his own, giving the florist time to think about his words.

After a few minutes, Crowley nodded and turned to him, asking with a small smile on his lips, "Are you an angel?"

Aziraphale could not suppress a small laugh before replying, "I can assure you, no, I am not."

Crowley insisted, "But you work miracles, because for the first time in a long time, I don't feel like moping around all day."

Aziraphale said gently, "It's not a miracle, but I'm very happy for you. How about brunch at the Ritz to celebrate?"

"The Ritz?! Wait, don't tell me this has something to do with your... rich family?"

Aziraphale shook his head and replied in a proud little tone, "Well, no, to the boss I'm just Mr. Fell, bookseller, and incidentally he's the only person I agreed to sell two books to, so in payment, instead of the outrageous sum he offered me, I asked him for a table for life at the Ritz."

Crowley first made round eyes, then burst out laughing, much to the delight of Aziraphale, who considered it another small victory.

"Shall we go to the Ritz?"

Aziraphale replied, "Only if you're driving. I came by taxi."

Crowley stood and exclaimed, "Deal."

Still holding Aziraphale's hand, he started to move forward when Aziraphale stopped him, "Wait, I want to know something. What did you feed the ducks?"

Crowley proudly pulled the bag from his pocket and shook it in front of Aziraphale, who saw small green grains dancing inside.

"This is what you feed the ducks. Frozen peas. They love it, and it's good for them."

Aziraphale couldn't resist and, standing on tiptoe, he planted a light kiss on the lips of the florist, who, as they walked away, asked, "What was that for?"

Aziraphale casually replied, "Because you're so sweet!"

"Aziraphale!"

Only a chuckle came back to Crowley as they walked toward the Bentley.

**********

Aziraphale moaned as he closed his eyes around the last spoonful of chocolate cake before exclaiming, "Scrumptious!"

When he opened his eyes, he saw Crowley, chin resting on his hand, watching him with a small smile on his lips.

"What's the matter? Do I have something on my face?"

Crowley shook his head and, without breaking his smile, said softly, "I think I found something as comforting as feeding the ducks."

Aziraphale asked in a confused tone, "What?" 

"Watching you eat. You enjoy it so much, it's fascinating."

Aziraphale wiped his mouth, unable to hide the slight blush in his cheeks at Crowley's compliment, and the florist then took his hand, pressing a lingering kiss to the palm before saying softly, "Thank you...angel."

Blushing even more, Aziraphale replied, "You're welcome."

As they gazed at each other in silence, ducks and desserts were forgotten, and all that remained was the fragile feeling that passed between them at that moment.

It didn't have a name yet, but it was there, and that was all that mattered.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

The florist and the booksellers series : here

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #human au #alternate universe #flower shop

[rinvu]

back to december

synopsisㅤyou never took the relationship seriously with park jongseong in high school despite him loving you dearly to the moon and back. and going back to your yearbook, seeing jay's picture reminded you of how perfect of a partner he was and you regret everything, finding yourself wanting him back.

pairㅤjay x fem readerㅤgnrㅤpure angst. lovers to strangers.ㅤwcㅤ1.4k oneshotㅤ( bookshelf )

hot cocoa which stayed warm near the fireplace, snowflakes painted the glass window, and the christmas lights beamed wrapped around the scotch pine tree. you sat on the deep fern couch, trying to focus on the series you're watching on the tv, but a blue and gold book catches your averting eyes. it stood displayed near your high school graduation picture, its hues matching your gown and cap presented in the frame.

with a sigh, you sat up, turning the tv off with the remote on your hand, casually dropping it on the couch as your gaze stayed on the book. 

"could it be?" your hand touches the spine of the book, reading along the lines of 'riverfield high school yearbook.'

your lips curve into a soft smile, grabbing the book, "let's see…" once again, you sit on the couch, placing the book on your lap, skimming over the pages and laughing over the silly pictures each of your classmates took.

then you finally got to the senior year page. you burst out a laugh as you see your picture, "i look like shit" then with curiosity building up, you skim through the pages more, looking at your friends' pictures. 

but a sudden painful feeling struck your heart, you stopped turning the page. a lump builds in your throat. and the air felt suffocating, not allowing you to breathe.

his picture was there. his soft dark hair. his red neck tie that you used to help him with. his sharp jawline. his sweet smile that laughs at your jokes. and his beautiful eyes that you admire so much.

the memories began to swarm your mind. everything is so vivid. so clear.  

the way he held you. his strong arms delicately wrapping around your body as he rests his chin on yours. his warmth provides you solace.

the way he kisses you. his soft plump lips trailing kisses on your cheek to your neck. it gave you butterflies, an addictive feeling that you never wanted to end.

the way he treated you like a flower. always being careful with his actions around you, making you feel safe in his care.

his words of affirmation. constantly reminding you how perfect of a person and a partner you are. giving you more boost in self-esteem and confidence for yourself.

the way he treated your loved ones, your family. how he cares for them the same amount you do. his respect for your parents and his youthful side when he's with your siblings. the way he gives them presents for their birthdays, and the way he supports them with all his heart.

and the way he stayed with you through your ups and downs. he wiped those tears away and he laughed with you until his cheek hurts from smiling too much.

the way he would give you the whole entire universe.

everything about him made you feel like the luckiest person ever to exist in a cruel world full of nothing but greedy, selfish, and judgmental people. but park jongseong was the only exception. he was different.

being with him felt like home. but a home you once had that you threw away.

a tear drops on the page, smudging the pigment of the jet black tint of the printed text. your breath hitches, memories reminiscing in your head like a broken video tape.

you ask yourself, "why?" why in the world did you break up with him? all for the sake of not being good enough for him.

but you realized as you remembered his numb expression, his quivering glistening eyes that struck your heart, hitting you like a truck. he always reminded you how good you are. he was your everything. but you never listened to him, you never trusted his genuine and sincere words. and all that led you to break his heart that used to be filled by you. only you.

you look up at the ceiling, closing your eyes as tears flow like a ravine in your rosy cheeks. "second chances exist right?" you whispered under your breath. the lights flickering above you, "it does.."

wiping your tears away, you closed the book, placing it back where it stood on the shelf. with a fast pace, you went towards the door, grabbing your coat as you headed out with your car keys.

driving along the icy road, your heart beats fast. hoping that he still lives there. the house that he bought for you. the house that was always neat and clean. the house that smelled like freshly cut flowers. and the house where everything happened. all the memories that are filled with both joy and sorrow. you hoped, "please, take me back home with him"

you arrived at your destination. the lights are on. he's still there, and this time, you're going to make everything right again. you're going to love him, right? right.

the winter breeze brushes on your hair and your shoes are covered with snow. with hesitation, you finally rang the doorbell.

you waited five seconds.

one.

two.

three.

four.

and five.

the door unlocks, the first entryway to make things right. it's open. and you peek through the small opening of the door…

and there he was. "jay?" his pretty eyes surprised by your sudden presence. his flowing dark hair and his lips you yearned to kiss. but not yet. you need to focus. he was wearing a blue polo shirt that looked unfamiliar on him, but it looked good. extremely good.

but in your gaze, you notice that his guard is up, and you know why.

"yn..? what are you doing here?" he asked, fully opening the door, looking over his shoulder then back at you.

you purse your lips, cautious of your words, but you proceed to get to the point as the cold bothered you and it probably bothered him too, "jay.."

you just wanted to be in his arms again, in his care again, be his love again, "i'm sorry.. for everything"

"yn.." his eyes avert your stare.

your shivering hands clenched into a fist, "i know it's so sudden.. i know it's been years, but i just wanted to let you know that.. you were so right about everything.. you were so good to me.."

"yn.." he calls your name once again.

but you exclaimed, "i was so stupid! i was so selfish! and i would do anything to fix what i've broken. like that one time i never called on your birthday.. and left the roses you gave me to wither.."

"yn.. listen to me" jay fixes the strand of hair on your face, tucking it in your ear. his face was close to you. he smiles gently yet his eyes look apologetic.

you shed a tear, "i'm so sorry. we were so perfect. you were so perfect. i miss your tan skin, your sweet smile. you were so good to me, so right. i—"

"i have a fiancee," he finally spoke out. his eyes closed and his arms crossed, giving a source of protection from the cold.

"and they mean the world to me.. yn.." he added, sweetness and admiration visible in his tone. god, he must love them so much. you could see it in his eyes. it's always in the eyes. and right now, he doesn't see you, but sees someone else.

your tears stopped flowing, your eyes broadened, and you could see your breath in the freezing air. somehow, the pain you're feeling right now feels numb. it's like you're used to it. you avert your eyes from his gaze to the ground, and all you could say was a mumbled, "oh.."

you could still see his hands, a silver ring visible in his finger, shining underneath the full moon tonight. you took three steps back, "i'm so sorry.." you choked on your own words, turning your back, running to your car.

"wait–" jay calls out, but he was too late.

no, you were too late.

you drove away, gripping the wheels. tears glistening underneath the moonlit sky. silent cries which took your breath away. an immense amount of pain aching in your chest. you wanted to be happy for him. but your heart can't. he moved on. but you didn't. he found love. but you lost it.

and everything was your fault. if only you never said anything you'd regret that december night, if only you'd return the love he has for you and never said goodbye, you could've been the person he's holding right now on a cold winter midnight.

you promised yourself that if you loved again, you'd love him right. but the ring on his hand blocked the path for your second chance at love. it turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing him. wishing you'd realize earlier what you had when he was yours. and all that led you to go back to december all the time.

note ㅤ: ㅤSO THIS IS ME SWALLOWIN MY PRIDE STANDING INFRONT OF YOU SAYIN IM SORRY FOR THAT NIGHT I GO BACK TO DECEMBER ALL THE TIME

© — xinvue. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work.

#ㅤ﹙알다﹚ㅤ𝗯𝘆 𝘅𝗶𝗻𝘃𝘂𝗲ㅤ #kflixnet #k-labels #k-films #enhablr #enhypen oneshots #enhypen angst #enhypen jay #enhypen x reader #park jongseong #enha oneshots #enha angst #enha jay #enhypen fic #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x gender neutral reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enha x y/n #enha x reader #enha x you #enha #enha au #park jay #enhypen park jongseong #enhypen park jay #enhypen jay angst

[ellekhen]

A tale of suns, moons, and our lives in between.

Stories centered around the journeys of the tiefling warlock Church, who seems intent on upheaving a cynical Astarion’s life of cruel and calculated chicanery. Whether it’s all for the better remains to be seen; but either way, Church isn’t going anywhere anytime soon — and Astarion finds he prefers it that way.

*~*~*~*

Tipping the Scales - [Complete]

Drown Out - [Complete]

The Sun - [Complete]

Mirror, mirror - [Complete]

High Hopes - [Ongoing]

Hand, Hearth, and Home - [Ongoing] Master Post

The stars in between. - [Complete]

When Your Mind's Made Up - [Complete] Master Post

*~*~*~*

To be the first to know about updates, bookmark and subscribe to the series page on AO3!

*~*~*~*

For fic summaries…

Summaries

Tipping the Scales - [Complete]

Church knows something is just… off — wrong, even, when they’re together, but Astarion refuses to let him in. When the recalcitrant vampire spawn is left behind at camp, he has little besides his thoughts and regrets as company. Through fitful meditations and a few nudges in the right direction, Astarion begins to finally come to terms with his strange, complicated feelings towards the tiefling warlock.

Drown Out - [Complete]

During times as chaotic as these, something as simple as a bath can be a sanctuary most unexpected. All in all, the tiefling warlock — Church — wasn’t who Astarion expected him to be. He’s too soft-hearted for his own good, and yet fiercely protective of those he loves. For some inscrutable reason, the vampire spawn falls into that circle. In the aftermath of a disastrous reunion and ambush from Astarion’s “siblings,” Church tends to the rogue as he reflects on how far they have come as friends and lovers along their journey.

The Sun - [Complete]

In the aftermath of defeating the Absolute, Astarion has no choice but to retreat to the shadows. Fortunately for him, Church had already decided long ago to be by his side wherever that may lead. The pair find themselves descending into the Underdark in hopes of helping the thousands of vampire spawn they freed find shelter, a community, and perhaps eventually break the chains of their pasts.

However, living in the Underdark as the sole warm-blooded caretaker of thousands of traumatized spawn takes its toll on the tiefling warlock. After a shocking event within the community, Church struggles to stay strong for Astarion and his other charges.

While he is haunted by memories of past rejections and failings, Church finds solace in Astarion's constant companionship. Ever watching each other's backs, they remind each other of the memories that have made them both stronger, together.

Mirror, mirror - [Complete]

Years following the defeat of the Absolute, Church and Astarion have made a new life — a challenging, but happy life — for themselves in the Underdark. But after a ritual goes wrong, Church finds himself waking up in the arms of a different Astarion, in a world where a single decision led to a very different and devastating outcome to their story.

While the Astarion and Gale of his world work tirelessly to bring him back home safe, Church fights not just to understand this new world and how his lover has changed in it, but also to retain his sovereignty in mind and body so that he may find his freedom from the elf his other self once loved.

High Hopes - [Ongoing]

Rolan, Cal, and Lia have survived their exile from Elturel this long by growing up fast and watching out for each other. Still, they find themselves treasuring the moments of normalcy that are so rare during these dangerous times.

Along the way, they find themselves crossing paths with another tiefling - a warlock adventurer named Church who has saved them multiple times, but is shouldering his own burdens unimaginable to them. This adventurer has always watched out for them along their journey, but who's watching out for him?

A series of vignettes from the times where the siblings and Church's respective paths to survival have crossed, nurturing a friendship most unexpected.

Hand, Hearth, and Home - [Ongoing]

In their respective, wary calculations, Astarion and Church know that they very well could be the death of each other. Years after losing his childhood friend and first love, Church reminds himself not to get too attached. Sabotaging those plans is Astarion, who just won’t leave him alone — all in the name of using the warlock as a means to an end, of course. But when Church’s friend unexpectedly returns as a certain guardian in their dreams, it makes his already conflicted, burgeoning feelings far more complicated. And yet, as the trust between him and Astarion grows, Church learns to let go of the past that holds him back from embracing a brighter future — no matter how uncertain it may be here at the vampire spawn’s side.

The stars in between. - [Complete]

Years after the events of the game, Withers invites Church, Astarion, and their former companions back for yet another party — a festive, cozy, winter Simril celebration! Thrilled at the prospect of seeing all his friends together again, Church takes the opportunity to indulge in a nostalgic tradition of his old village. But once Astarion realizes that this tradition involves giving gifts, he desperately tries to come up with a last-minute gift worthy enough for his partner with help from their friends and a certain (former) god of death.

When Your Mind's Made Up - [Complete]

In another lifetime, Church helps Astarion ascend before impulsively following his lover into darkness — vowing that neither of them will ever have to be alone again. But when the warlock wakes up from his transformation, he realizes far too late that the person he trusts and loves the most has become yet another inescapable patron. And so, when the battle against the Absolute demands yet another sacrifice from the tiefling, he finds himself wondering… What more does he have to lose? (A companion piece to “Mirror, mirror.”)

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #baldur’s gate fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #tav x astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #oc x astarion #churchstarion #churstarion #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #bg3 tiefling #master list #master post #astarion x male tav

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Fifty-Three

The rest of the day seemed to pass swiftly for Maera, each moment propelling her further into the intricate web of her new life. With Ser Arryk at her side as she walked through the Keep, she was greeted with bows and curtsies, a display of deference that she found both unusual and something she doubted she would ever fully get used to. The weight of her newfound status was tangible in these gestures, a constant reminder of the expectations that now surrounded her.

Despite the formalities, Maera decided to take a direct route to the kitchens, surprising the staff with her unexpected presence. Undeterred, she asked that the leftovers from the wedding be taken down to Flea Bottom, a gesture aimed at sharing the joy of the celebration with the common people.

As she strolled through the corridors of the Keep, Maera couldn't shake the feeling of being somewhat lost without Aemond by her side, but she resolutely reminded herself that this was her life now.

Before marriage, she served Helaena, and her days were spent tending to the Queen’s needs, whether that be providing company, liaising with other nobles on her behalf, or occupying the children’s time with song, stories and lessons. And when Maera was at Rain House, her time was spent looking after her countless siblings and attending to the needs of her stepmothers. It gave her purpose, routine. And without that structure, what could Maera do?

Determined to find tasks to occupy her time, she ventured into the realm of her new responsibilities. In the afternoon, Maera had tea with Queen Helaena in the Queen's chambers, where the growing prominence of the Queen's bump hinted at the impending arrival of a new member of the Targaryen family. The two friends shared their experiences from Maera’s wedding, gossiping about the festivities, and finding solace in each other’s company. The shared laughter and camaraderie helped Maera navigate the intricate world of courtly life and provided a brief respite from the weight of her new expectations as a royal.

Uncertain of what to do with herself for the remainder of the day, Maera reluctantly made her way back to Aemond’s chambers, contemplating our loud to her loyal protector how to best serve the realm as the newly anointed Princess, their path intersected by an unwelcome shadow.

“Princess Maera,” he greeted, with an awkward bow and untrustworthy smile. As Maera took in the sight of his cane and out of place foot, an instinctive wariness washed over her like a wave.

Despite her discomfort, she reciprocated his greeting with a respectful nod and a restrained, “Lord Larys.”

“I just wanted to extend my congratulations again, Princess. Your wedding was just what the Realm needed to lift its spirits during this dire time,” he proclaimed.

If it were anyone else saying these words to her with a soft smile and reassuring tone, Maera would have felt at ease. But in the presence of the Master of Whispers, she couldn't shake the feeling that every word and action might be under scrutiny, creating a palpable tension in the air.

“You are too kind, my Lord,” she replied in an earnest attempt, yet her body wanted to carry her away from him as urgently as it could. “I am truly sorry, but I am in a rush, I need to get back to my chambers.”

“Then perhaps I could have the honour of escorting you, Princess. Alas I cannot walk at a great speed, but it would give us a chance to reacquaint ourselves to each other,” Larys suggested, causing Maera to clench her jaw in annoyance. But the Lord persisted, “A Princess of the Realm must be a gracious hostess and form strong relationships with her courtiers. At least that is my understanding from the Dowager Queen. She is so highly thought of by the people.”

Maera took a deep breath in an attempt to ground herself. She knew the Lord was trying to get under her skin in the most subtle way possible. In frustration, Maera looked to her protector, Ser Arryk, seeking a silent ally in the midst of the uncomfortable exchange. Ser Arryk returned her gaze with his hazel eyes that carried reassurance, his Kingsguard armor reflecting the light, and his mousey brown hair neatly tied back.

With a defeated sigh, Maera agreed to walk with Lord Larys, feeling a sense of discomfort in his company. As they moved forward, Ser Arryk dutifully followed a few paces behind, his vigilant presence offering a semblance of reassurance in the uneasy situation.

As they walked alongside each other down the corridors, the distinct sound of the Lord’s cane hitting the floor echoing with each step. The rhythmic tap added an unsettling backdrop to their journey through the corridors of the Red Keep.

Breaking the awkward silence, Lord Larys inquired, "What duties are you so urgently attending to, Princess? If you do not mind my asking, of course."

Choosing her words carefully, Maera responded, "Correspondence to the attendants of the wedding, my Lord. Maintaining relationships on behalf of House Targaryen is crucial. A personal touch from the new Princess is more favorably received, don't you agree?"

Lord Larys smiled, an expression that sent a shiver down Maera's spine, as he remarked, "You are proving yourself quite the politician. I must also commend you on brokering a deal with House Tarth, which will no doubt aid us in the war effort. Your dowry and alliances could sway the outcome of this war in the King's favor."

Maera nodded, her desire to retreat back to her chambers palpable. However Larys, persistent in continuing their conversation, remarked , "I suppose, to maintain relationships, you will also write to those who could not be in attendance at your union with Prince Aemond? With so many brothers and sisters, that is a lot of letters to write."

With a measured tone, Maera replied, "Indeed it is, my Lord."

The Master of Whispers furrowed his brow, a feigned confusion in his expression, as he stated, "Oh, what was the name I heard muttered throughout the evening by your family? A sister of yours? Wynnifrid, is it?"

Maera's patience wore thin, and the mask of indifference and diplomacy began to slip. The mention of Wynni, her absent sister, struck a nerve, and a flicker of irritation crossed her features. Through gritted teeth, Maera inquired, "What specifically about my sister do you wish to know, Lord Larys?" His faint smile revealed satisfaction at successfully provoking a reaction from her.

"It is not what I wish to know, Princess, but what you wish to know. I am aware of your concern for her," he replied, continuing with a calm demeanor. Maera arched an eyebrow as Larys added, "Even with the network you have built, a small number will not get you much information beyond these walls."

Maera's frown deepened, acknowledging the truth in his words. Her spies within the Keep had their limitations, unable to provide insights into events outside King's Landing. Her thoughts briefly strayed to the snippets of information gathered by the laundry maid, stablehand's boy, and the squire, which had helped in negotiating with House Tarth during her wedding celebrations.

Interrupting her contemplation, Lord Larys spoke again, "I believe I have more than proven myself a generous ally to the crown. Will you not allow me to assist you in your endeavors?" His offer hung in the air, a subtle dance of diplomacy and intrigue unfolding between them.

Naturally, Maera harbored a deep concern for Wynni's well-being, her absence and silence since the betrothal to Lord Tarly weighing heavily on her heart. Yet, she was well aware of the perilous game with the Master of Whispers and had no intention of walking into the dangerous labyrinth he might weave.

"I am no fool, my Lord. I know everything comes at a price here, and whatever your price may be, I am certainly not willing to pay it," Maera asserted with unwavering resolve.

Lord Larys responded swiftly, "Consider it a wedding gift, Princess. A goodwill gesture."

Turning to Ser Arryk, positioned a few paces behind her, Maera sought counsel through eye contact, a silent plea for guidance in navigating the treacherous waters that surrounded Lord Larys. In a moment of quick thinking, Maera drew on her natural resourcefulness, smiling genuinely at the Master of Whispers for the very first time. "Then I would suggest your 'goodwill gesture' should be put to better use."

She turned, exchanging a warm smile with her loyal protector, before refocusing on Lord Larys. "May I ask you to have your spies find out about the health and well-being of Ser Erryk on Dragonstone? It would be a belated nameday gift for my sworn sword."

The knight silently expressed gratitude, nodding respectfully with a smile. Maera turned back to Lord Larys. "Your information should be delivered to Ser Arryk directly, if you please. I do not require to know the outcome.”

Seemingly agitated by her request, Lord Larys replied gruffly, "I will see what I can do, Princess." The exchange marked a subtle shift in the power dynamics, as Maera skillfully redirected the situation to her advantage. Upon reaching her chambers, Lord Larys bid her farewell before skulking away. Maera, victorious in her subtle maneuvering during their conversation, smiled triumphantly. The satisfaction of navigating the delicate dance of courtly interactions lingered on her features.

Ser Arryk, ever vigilant, opened the chamber doors for Maera. As she entered, she asked him to ensure she received no more visitors for the rest of the day. The trust between them was evident in her request, and the Kingsguard nodded, understanding the importance of the privacy she sought.

The doors shut behind Maera, enveloping her in the familiar surroundings of her chambers. A palpable sense of relief washed over her, grateful to be back in the sanctuary of her own space. The delicate dance of courtly interactions and the dynamics between those who held positions of power added an extra layer of complexity to Maera’s new life, leaving her to navigate with care and acuity.

Maera filled the rest of the day in solitude, sitting at a desk covered in ink and parchment. Quill in hand, she meticulously penned letters to the attendants of the wedding, expressing gratitude and acknowledging their presence. The ink flowed smoothly onto the parchment, each stroke reflecting her composed demeanor.

In between, Maera turned her attention to a more personal letter, writing to Wynni at Horn Hill. Concern for her sister’s well-being filled the carefully selected words on the parchment. Sealing the letter with wax, she imprinted it with the distinctive Targaryen seal—a symbol of connection to the House she was now apart of.

As the sun set, casting warm hues across the sky, Maera found herself dining alone in the chambers. Aemond had not yet returned from his duties, and the solitude brought a sense of isolation that echoed in the quiet halls. The absence of her newlywed husband left Maera with a mix of emotions, a blend of loneliness and the understanding that duty would often keep them apart, but not wanting this to be the case consistently.

After finishing her meal, Maera called in Thena to assist in the process of preparing for the night. Her loyal servant undid Maera's hair with gentle fingers, the dark brown curls happily tumbled past her waist, the silver streak catching the light of the flickering candles. The maid then expertly unlaced the intricate black and gold gown, replacing it with a long-sleeve cotton shift that clung to Maera's curvaceous form, golden embroidery decorating the neckline and a thin golden ribbon holding the fabric together on her chest.

With the desire to fill the last remaining hours of the day, Maera asked Thena to assist her in organizing her belongings in the new shared chambers with her husband. As they worked together, unpacking and arranging items, the room transformed into a harmonious blend of Aemond’s regality and Maera's personal touch.

A collection of Maera’s favourite literature was placed in an empty section of the dark wooden bookshelf, including ‘A Caution for Young Girls’, which she could not bare to part with after her night with Aemond in the library. Her easel, the canvas showing the unfinished dragon egg, paints and brushes were placed near a window so Maera could continue her artwork near the natural light. Finally, she opened a chest and discovered her dagger and sword nestled within. A smile graced her lips at the sight of the familiar weapons, feeling the weight and balance of the weapons that had accompanied her through various stages of her life.

The dagger and sword had not seen the light of the training yard since the day Maera discovered her inheritance of the Straits. Instead, she had been using them in the privacy of her room. The bedposts in her old chambers bore the marks of countless strikes, and a hay-stuffed dummy, now torn to shreds, lay forgotten, not packed with her belongings. Holding weapons, memories flooded her mind, including the match with Aemond in the training yard upon her return. Her finger traced a tiny scar above her left breast, a reminder of that spirited encounter, causing a smile to form on her lips.

Upon closer examination, Maera noticed that the sword and dagger bore the marks of use—scratches and scuffs etched into the metal. The signs of battle hinted at the intensity of her training, both in the training yard and within the confines of her chambers. Maera turned to her loyal maid, conveying, “You may retire for the evening, Thena, thank you. But before you go, could you fetch me a cloth and some polish?” A request the maid promptly fulfilled before bidding her mistress a goodnight.

Maera's gaze shifted across the room, and she noticed Aemond's usual sword and dagger hanging on one of the stone walls. A sense of familiarity and connection filled the air as she decided to extend her cleaning ritual to include his weapons. Standing up, she walked across the room and reached up to carefully retrieve Aemond's weapons. The cool touch of the metal in her hands invoked a subtle intimacy, a shared bond through the very weapons that symbolized their strengths.

Sitting by the lit hearth, Maera took a cloth in hand, buffing and polishing each weapon with meticulous care. The rhythmic strokes echoed in the quiet chambers, and the crackling flames added a warmth to the scene. As the polished metal gleamed in the firelight, Maera found solace in the act of caring for their collective weapons, a welcome distraction from their eerie silence of the Keep.

After what felt like an eternity, Aemond entered the chambers, long past the time he should have. Maera tried to contain her excitement, focusing her gaze on the sword she was polishing, as if she had not been eagerly awaiting his return all day. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aemond stride into the room—a black shadow with long silver hair. He seemed to pause, gazing at her by the fire, before placing his books and scrolls on his desk.

The sound of him unbuckling his doublet reached her ears before he discarded it on a nearby chair. A small smile crept onto Maera's face, eager to be reunited with her newlywed husband. However, despite her joy to be in his presence, a subtle awareness settled in—the atmosphere carrying a weight that hinted at something being off. As she looked around, the signs became apparent. Aemond had not taken the time to fold the doublet he placed on the chair, and the books and scrolls on the desk were left in a state of disarray.

Quickly stealing a glance at Aemond’s face, Maera observed a stoic expression, his jaw clenched and violet eye downcast. It was evident that he was not in a good mood.

Maera observed the Prince as he sat on a black velvet chaise a couple of feet away, his frustration palpable. He wore a white cotton undershirt, slightly oversized for his slender form, and black pants adorned his lower half as well as black boots, which he began to unbuckle and remove.

When Aemond eventually looked over at her, Maera offered a soft smile, but it went unreturned. His facial expression remained stoic, the lines on his forehead reflecting the internal turmoil he seemed to be grappling with. In an attempt to remedy the awkwardness, Maera decided to engage him in conversation, a gentle inquiry to bridge the gap and perhaps understand the source of his evident frustration.

“The hour is late,” she said softly with a small smile.

Aemond hummed before retorting sharply, “I had many duties that required my attention today.”

Nervousness crept over her, prompting a gulp as she diverted her green-eyed gaze back to polishing Aemond’s sword, the rhythmic strokes becoming a way to channel her discomfort. She felt scrutinised under his gaze, sensing a tension that went beyond the physical distance between them.

It became apparent that Aemond was looking for an argument, his next words taking on a critical edge as they cut through the air. “Why are you cleaning those swords? Is that not what servants are for?”

Summoning courage, Maera took a deep breath, smiling as she explained, "I was unpacking my belongings and noticed my own sword and dagger needed cleaning, so why not clean yours as well?" She chuckled, adding with a shrug, "I suppose I am just trying to fulfill my duties as a wife."

However, it became apparent that Aemond was not in the mood for lighthearted conversation, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tensions. The once-prominent excitement of their reunion now gave way to an unsettling air, leaving Maera unsure of how to navigate the unexpected storm brewing within the chambers.

Aemond then leaned forward, a cruel smirk playing on his face as he clasped his hands. “And do you suppose that touching things that do not belong to you will make you a good wife?” He asked, sarcasm laced in his words.

The venomous words stung, and while she knew it probably wasn’t personal, she met his comment with a frustrated “Fine then,”, throwing Aemond’s sword across the floor to him, metal skidding against stone as it stopped at his feet, undoing all of her hard work. “But just so you know,” she snarled, her green eyes flashing with defiance, “being cruel to your wife will certainly not make you a good husband. Nor will it cure what vexes you.”

Aemond leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply as the tension began to dissipate. His muscles relaxed, and his face softened, the once-defined jaw unclenching. The weight that had burdened the atmosphere seemed to lift, revealing a momentary reprieve.

Despite her anger, Maera couldn't help but find him alluring in this moment. Aemond's broad chest was on display through the gap in his shirt, and his legs were spread in a distinctly masculine manner. The allure of his presence mingled with the lingering tension in the air. However, as Maera remembered the sharp words he had spoken earlier, she refocused her attention on the task at hand, diligently cleaning her own sword.

After a period of tense silence, Aemond chose to open up about the source of his foul mood. He shared, “Aegon is a fool. He insists on throwing more money at the war effort through raising taxes.”

Maera, still polishing her sword, quietly absorbed Aemond’s words. Her initial anger slowly dissipated as she listened. Aemond elaborated, “I suggested raising taxes on alehouses and brothels, but Aegon adamantly refused, of course.” Maera rolled her eyes, knowing Aegon’s fondness for those establishments. It was clear that the king’s personal interests were affecting decisions crucial to the realm’s welfare.

Aemond, visibly frustrated, ran a hand through his hair as he vented, "What is worse is that instead of trusting my counsel as Master of Coin, Aegon treats me like a lackey in front of the other Lords, insisting on a financial report in a few days, detailing where else could be taxed before his precious debauchery-filled hiding places."

Maera, a silent yet attentive listener, nodded in acknowledgment, continuing to polish her weapons as she allowed Aemond to continue to express his anger. "Even my grandfather told me to get the report done, just to shut Aegon up and secure the funding quickly," Aemond added, shaking his head. Their eyes met, a moment of shared understanding and connection amidst the challenges they faced.

As Maera absorbed Aemond’s words, she noticed his gaze fixated on her hand moving slowly up and down the sword as she polished it. A subtle bite of his bottom lip indicated his subtle appreciation, and Maera felt a sense of satisfaction knowing she had his attention. "What can I do to help you, issa dārys?" My King, She cooed to him.

Aemond smirked, leaning forward, a darkness casting over his single violet eye. "I have a better use for your hands instead of polishing weapons, ābrazȳrys," wife he said, beckoning her closer with a 'come hither' motion of his index finger.

Reacting swiftly, Maera all but jumped to her feet, earning a chuckle from the Prince. He tutted at her disapprovingly, commanding, "On your knees, Maera."

Suppressing the urge to let her mouth fall open, heat rising to her cheeks, she smirked at him, ready to engage in his playful game and be the dutiful wife to quell his temper. She returned to her knees and began moving toward him with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact. The Prince leaned back in his chair and smirked, tilting his head as he watched her hips sway enticingly as she crawled. His arms hung limply by his side until his wife finally stopped at his feet to kneel before him, the air charged with the unspoken anticipation of what was to come.

Taking one hand and placing it on her chin, he slowly lifted her face to his and leaned forward, crashing his lips to hers. Maera met him with an equal amount of hunger, her mouth moving roughly against his. She felt him nibbling at her bottom lip harshly and gladly welcomed his tongue into her mouth, her own tongue dancing with his harmoniously. Maera allowed her hands to travel up to his clothed thighs, splaying them out to steady herself and feel his muscles beneath.

In a bold move, she allowed her fingers to travel, finding the obvious bulge in his trousers, smiling against his lips as she began to undo the laces on his trousers, with a quick and desperate edge. As the final lace was undone, Maera felt Aemond snake his hands down her body, squeezing and kneading her rear before landing on the backs of her thighs. He pressed his hands into the soft flesh, gripping them as he slowly leaned back onto the chaise, scooping Maera up towards him and onto his lap so she straddled him.

“You are certainly eager, issa dāria,” my Queen, Aemond purred, his fingers coming up to undo the laces that held the fabric on her chest together. She responded by shifting her nightgown so the fabric sat above her hips, pressing her bare core onto his clothed crotch, already absolutely soaking from waiting for his return all day.

With a shudder, Maera felt Aemond’s lips travel down to her neck, tipping her head back to allow him more access. He was merciless, sucking and biting and licking at the skin so hard, she was sure it would leave a mark. But she did not care, for if this was a way he took out his frustrations then she would happily accept it. Aemond’s hands then undid the last ribbon on her chest, pushing the fabric down to reveal her large soft breasts to him, nipples standing to attention as the cold air hit them. Without hesitation he took one breast into mouth, suckling at the nipple aggressively whilst his other hand palmed and grasped urgently the neglected breast . Maera would have been ashamed at the way she gasped at the contact if it did not feel so good.

Unconsciously Maera had began rocking her hips against him, desperate for some form of friction. It was only has her core brushed against his clothed cock a certain way, which caused them both to groan, did she realise what she was doing. The Prince released her nipple from his mouth with a pop, turning his attention to his trousers. He finally pulled his cock from the fabric, thick and hard and glistening with pre-cum, causing Maera’s mouth to water. As he grabbed the base of his cock, she rose her hips, wanting to feel him deep inside of her as he had the previous night. But instead the Prince decided to once again toy with her, rubbing his cock between her folds, gathering her slick and nudging at her pearl, the sensation making her squeeze her eyes shut with a whine.

Maera felt a jolt as Aemond sharply pushed into her, placing his large hands on her hips and guiding her down slowly onto his cock, until she was full to the hilt. It was not as painful as the previous night, and the stretch felt delicious, definitely worth the wait, she thought. The Prince took charge, rocking her hips so her pearl grinded against him, the intoxicating sensation causing her to throw her head back, mouth falling open as she let out a cry of ecstasy.

“Sȳz riña,” Good Girl he growled as his hips rocked in sync with hers. Aemond then removed the hands on her hips before grabbing both breasts and biting at them like an animal starved. Maera got the rhythm quickly, rocking back and forth as his cock hit the soft spongey spot inside of her, over and over again. To attempt to gain some control, one hand grabbed the back of the chaise, while the other tangled in his hair, pulling his face even closer into her chest, the sound of the groan he made vibrating on her skin.

He released the flesh from his mouth and looked up at his wife, her eyes half lidded and cheeks stained red as she continued to rock against him. Aemond reached up and ran his thumb across her bottom lip before pushing it in slightly, Maera licking and sucking at his briefly before he withdrew it. His hand then trailed down her stomach, reaching her mound and the wet thumb began to rub on her sensitive bundle of nerves, the feeling too much for her, causing her grinding to stutter.

It was at this point Aemond took charge, which Maera thought was impossible from this position, yet she was happily proved wrong. He smirked at her devilishly as he snapped his hips upwards to meet hers, the hand that was not teasing her clit gripping her hip and holding her firmly in place. The thrusting became manic, even faster than before, ramming into that spot deep inside of her. Coupled with the sensation of his thumb on her clit, Maera could feel her release steadily building, causing her to whimper. “Aemond, I-I can’t…”

“Hold it, Princess. Do as your Prince commands,” he growled breathlessly, continuing to pound into her, seemingly chasing his own high as a sheen of sweat began to form on his forehead. She so badly wanted to hold on, to wait for him, but her muscles could no longer take the attack he was bestowing upon her. Maera grabbed his face with her hands, smashing her lips against his in an attempt to gain one last bit of control. But it was too late. As Aemond applied more pressure with his thumb, swirling faster and hitting the spot deep within her, she came undone and could not hold back.

“Fuck, Aemond!” She screamed, squeezing her eyes so tightly tears leaked from them as she rode out her high. Her words spurred the Prince on as he let out a guttural moan, thrusting faster and deeper into her as his cock spurting inside of her, releasing hot thick white ropes into her core. They swallowed each other’s moans and heaving breaths with a hard kiss, lips moving in tandem as they both came down from their high.

After a few minutes, Maera could still feel his cock twitching within her and attempted to get off of his lap, only for Aemond to dig his nails into her hips, causing her to hiss at the pain. She looked at his face, her green eyes still lidded from exhaustion as his violet eye bore into her.

“You will stay where you are until I tell you to move, ābrazȳrys,” wife, He commanded, pushing her head back onto his chest before resting his chin atop it.

“As you wish, issa dārys,” my King, she sighed with a smirk, nuzzling into his broad chest and closing her eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathed deeply, the flickering hearth crackling in the background.

Notes: Bit of a long one like Aemond’s cock, but here it is! Sorry it’s taking me so long to upload, currently on nights!

Tags: @blue-serendipity @marvelescvpe @manipulatixe @shesjustanothergeek @watercolorskyy

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd helaena #house targaryen #house wylde #aemond smut #smut

[wangxianficrecs]

Duo With You by Nyatci

Duo With You

by Nyatci (@nyatci)

T, WIP, 15k, Wangxian

Summary: Wei Ying, a college freshman doing his best to keep his life in order after being kicked out of his house, finds solace playing a new video game. He's a total 'noob' who one night gets paired up with a much more skilled (read: arrogant) player named 'HanguangJun'. After the match, HanguangJun is less than impressed with Wei Ying's skills and lets him know so, leaving Wei Ying with two choices: Follow HanguangJun's suggestion to 'uninstall the game' or...'git gud' ;) Kay's comments: This story is absolutely delightful so far and I'm loving the identity shenanigans especially! In which modern college student Wei Wuxian starts playing League and meets Hanguang-Jun online, an amazing player, who absolutely roasts him for being a noob. Over time, Wei Ying improves and the two of them become closer and Wei Ying starts nurturing a massive crush on him, but! There's also a side love-interest, the libarian's assistant, Lan Zhan... I really love the relationship between the Wen siblings and Wei Ying in this story, Hanguang-Jun's legendary roasts and the slow identity-reveal. I can't wait to see where this story goes! Excerpt: HanguangJun: Ridiculous. HanguangJun: Feeling better? Wei Ying smiles fondly and actually does feel his cheeks warm a bit but more because of contentment than anything else. Shaking the feeling off he decides to be his usual mischievous self. “No, not at all HanguangJun! I’m afraid I need more compliments if I am to survive this sad and lonely night. HanguangJun: You…are no longer the worst player I’ve ever played with. Wei Ying gapes and then breaks out into laughter once again. When The door of the apartment opens and Wen Qing and Wen Ning walk in, the hear him laughing and saying: “Oh HanguangJun, you really are the best. Please never change!"

pov wei wuxian, modern setting, modern no powers, college/university, gamer wei wuxian, gamer lan wangji, college student lan wangji, college student wei wuxian, falling in love, getting to know each other, slow burn, humor, fluff and humor, light angst, jiang family dynamics, enemies to friends to lovers, secret identity, identity reveal, league of legends, angst and hurt/comfort, good friend wen qing, good friend wen ning, implied/referenced child abuse, abusive jiang family, eventual happy ending, fanart, implied/referenced homophobia

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

#Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #wangxian #MDZS #Kay's Rec #WIP #WIP Rec Week #Work in Progress #Duo With You #Nyatci #pov wei wuxian #modern setting #modern no powers #college/university #gamer wei wuxian #gamer lan wangji #college student lan wangji #college student wei wuxian #falling in love #getting to know each other #slow burn #humor #fluff and humor #light angst #jiang family dynamics #enemies to friends to lovers #secret identity #identity reveal #league of legends #angst and hurt/comfort

[crimsonji]

HELLO!! if requests are open, may i please request kazuha x reader who's personality is like emu otori? (pjsk) if you don't know her, that's alright, thank you!!

୨୧ Smile, Smile!

“ what if kazuha had a lover that’s the equivalent to a hyperactive puppy? “

ft. kaedehara kazuha x energetic!gn!reader

cw: fluff, bullet points / drabble, accidentally turned into character/dynamic analysis instead of fun hyper antics whoops, reader has 2 older brothers like emu, reader's catchphrase is wondahoi lmao, not proofread

>> 🍁 kazuha’s musings: I don’t play pjsk often but I’m familiar with all the characters so dw !!! The more I think abt this dynamic I kinda feel like kazuha would be rui but… less scheming just matched calm energy yknow? (I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS I’m a loser for the calm x hyperactive dynamic)

You just have such a fast-paced upbeat energy that few people can seem to keep up with you and many often disregard you for being too childish for your age. It's very shocking when people find out you have two older brothers who are much more realistic and stoic than you are, and people seem relieved that you tend to mellow out more when in their presence.

When Kazuha met you, he was very intrigued by your eccentric attitude toward things. He's met people on his journeys who have turned cold, corrupted by the difficult truths of this world that they've tried to defy or embraced with hopeless defeat. Kazuha's past is less than pleasant, and meeting someone who, much like him— focused purely on living each day to the fullest made him feel some sort of unspoken understanding towards your reasonings behind your actions.

When you and Kazuha gradually grew acquainted with each other, the more he grew to appreciate you. He notices that you don't really talk about your own life, small fragments falling into place in his mind when he happens to greet you in the presence of your siblings one day. You seemed... different, a washed-out version of yourself that your peers seemed to prefer much more than the actual "you".

There is a part where you two differ. While Kazuha tends to run alone, finding solace in the company of himself, you throw yourself at people (literally sometimes.) and put in all of your efforts to make everyone around you happy. Something about you laughing joyfully while playing puppets with young children or putting on an entire show for the sake of making everyone laugh made his heart swell with a mix of emotions and his stomach flutter like a butterfly slowly emerging from its cocoon for the first time.

He was basically the opposite of you, but your underlying shared similarities of each other somehow managed to make you two work so well together. As gleefully idealistic as you were, he'd never be one to shoot down those ideas or discourage them. Kazuha isn't one to label, people are nuanced and much more flawed and complicated compared to heroic protagonists in novels. Likewise, he knows that just because you're happy and overly optimistic doesn't mean you're stupid or don't struggle at times, and he vows to be by your side every step of the way.

The two of you are THE power couple. Kazuha is usually just tagging along with you as you carry on with your daily antics with your lover by your side. Your actions are determined by impulse most of the time, and Kazuha likes to "go with the wind"— as he says— so what harm would it be to participate in the fun with his partner?

Sometimes bystanders will give their best pleading gazes towards Kazuha as they all hopelessly watch you do another spontaneous thing to the next, but all Kazuha gives is a polite smile and turns his attention back to you.

Kazuha is easily charmed by your catchphrase and habit to incorporate onomatopoeia into your speech, easily picking up on what you're saying and being able to talk to you like any other "normal" person.

"And then, the balloon went kaboom pow, and when the confetti went off it made a sound like phew pew chew—! It was so cool!" "Really? I wish I could have been there to see it."

…

"Kaedehara?! Good wonderhoy! ☆"

"Good morning, the sea is calm and the breeze soft; I'm sure today will be a wonderful day... And if I may ask, what's um, 'wonderhoy'?"

"Ahh...? Well, 'wonderhoy' is something you say when it feels wonderhoy! Like your birthday!"

"What a charming catchphrase."

"Right, right?! I thought of it myself when I was really young, hey, let's practice saying wonderhoy together! 3... 2... 1...!"

"Wonderhoy! ☆"

"Hehe, wonderhoy."

Kazuha isn't nearly as imaginative as you are, but you tell him ten times over that you love it whenever he adds some of his input for the upcoming shows you like to do with your close friends. On multiple occasions, you've tried to get him to participate in one of these events as the main lead, but he says he'd much rather admire you performing from an audience perspective as "You're the sun, the star that keeps the stage's world spinning." (his words)

It's really funny seeing you two talk with each other. Kazuha is so hopelessly smitten with you and isn't afraid to convey that in his at times flowery style of speech-- and your whimsical descriptive words and energy only double tenfold when it's about your boyfriend. It's like night and day, yet you understand every word he's saying and so does he.

"Kazuha!"

"Yes, dove?"

"W-Well, I don't think I say this a lot, so, you make my heart beat a bajillion times like Yoimiya's fireworks and it grows thiiiiis much bigger! ♪ Smile every day for me, okay?!"

"...Pff, hehe; and I feel the exact same and more. Let's smile together today, tomorrow, and the next, my sunshine."

#[🍁] kazuha's haiku collection #[💌] letters of songbird #kazuha x y/n #kazuha fanfic #kazuha x reader #kazuha fluff #kazuha smut #kazuha #genshin impact #genshin #genshin fanfic

[good-beans]

Milgram murder swap aus! I tried to keep the personalities the same and just swap the murder itself – not everyone paired perfectly but some worked really well

Edit: I've made some updates/additions here!

Fuuta/Mu: Muu has an extensive social media presence because of her wealthy lifestyle. She runs several blogs and channels (instead of fantasy rpg she has a fairy tale-esque theme to all her profiles). She gains a dedicated following who hang on her every post. When she calls out someone online, it doesn’t take long for her followers to join in and fatal consequences to follow. Fuuta’s reputation as the tough and cool gamer places him between being a menace on his university campus to being the subject of bullying himself. When his gaming buddies all turn on him, and he quickly falls from the center of attention. He’s a violent victim, but a victim nonetheless. One betrayal hurts more than the others. Armed with something sharp from one of the campus labs, he takes matters into his own hands.

Shidou/Mahiru: Mahiru is a bubbly doctor who all patients and families trust wholeheartedly because of her cheery attitude. When her partner falls ill, though, she’s impatient. It takes less than two weeks for her to realize she needs to grab hold of her lover before she loses them, and she uses her reputation to avoid suspicion of her increasing body count. (I know we don’t know a ton about Mahiru’s crime yet, but) Shidou moves to the city taking up a new job at the florist’s. When he meets someone he really falls for, he’s calm and calculated about approaching them and planning meetings. He’s good at keeping a poker face through lies, and he easily convinces them that every meeting is “such a strange coincidence” and “must be fate.” 

Amane/Haruka: Amane’s parents were abusive, and she looked to religion to find solace. She only had access to minimal forms of religious information, though, so her view of the whole thing is heavily distorted. She wanted nothing more than her parents’ attention, and sought out the attention of a higher power to satisfy that. She killed animals as sacrifices, and thought she was being guided by righteousness when she killed her sibling/family member.. Haruka was raised in a cult who focused more on teachings and punishments than on his needs. He was so hungry for their approval, he began following their every word and genuinely accepting their teachings to get a feeling of belonging. Even when pushed to murder/allow for someone’s death, he did it happily thinking they’d be proud of him for doing the right thing. 

Yuno/Kotoko: Yuno knows how to manipulate the social situation – she’s bubbly and fun, she knows how to please people, but at her core she’s calculating and disinterested in drama. She uses these abilities to talk to others and track down the criminal she’s looking for who hurt young girls that she knew/related to. Kotoko goes out and does whatever she pleases. She’s not looking to find true love or please a man, she’s just doing what’s good for her while maintaining her bold and self-assured attitude. She sees nothing wrong with her actions and has a “screw you if you do” outlook. 

Mikoto was tough to swap with someone else, but I gave him Aname’s crime because I think it’d have the most interesting tension: Mikoto was raised in a strict religious cult, but only one of his alters took to the teachings. One is very devout, and is willing to commit murder the way the other members would have encouraged. The other desperately wants to escape the cult, and fights back against it whenever he can. They both think their actions are protecting the other. Fun angel/demon aesthetics (where the “angelic” religious one is the murderer and the “demonic” antireligious one is innocent).

And so that Kazui isn’t left alone, a modified Kazui/Haruka swap: Kazui was very emotionally repressed since childhood. Even into adulthood his family makes it clear they’re disappointed in him. He carries his abuse with him far later in life, letting it simmer and grow under the surface. Maybe his wife started talking about having kids, reminding Kazui of his own childhood, or maybe something unrelated caused all the memories to flood back. When all that pent up pain finally breaks through, it floods and his wife suffers. Haruka grew up in a stable family, but still envied others. He was so busy with other friends/siblings that he preferred to be with, he ignored his younger sister’s needs. Disliking her and wishing to escape his responsibility to her, his lies/avoidance of her put her in fatal danger.

Uuuhhhh Es is the mysterious prison leader and Jackalope is running batshit interrogations and making all the decisions 😂

#milgram #milgram project #haruka sakurai #yuno kashiki #fuuta kajiyama #muu kusunoki #shidou kirisaki #mahiru shiina #kazui mukuhara #amane momose #mikoto kayano #kotoko yuzuriha #i dont know if ill do much more on this but some of them are fun to think about... #rose posts

[lightseed-chaplain]

St. Francis of Assisi has been a source of inspiration, insight, and solace to me throughout my life. Today, on his feast day, I am meditating especially on his ministry as a lover of lepers and all those oppressed and marginalized by society. Ever since I saw it, this piece by openly gay priest and hospital chaplain William Hart McNichols has remained on my heart with its softness and meaning.

Speaking about the piece- “The Epiphany: Wisemen Bring Gifts to the Child,” 1984 - McNichols said that he “began a watercolor-and-gouache painting using the first two [AIDS] patients I had visited. There was St. Francis of Assisi holding the gay man being administered droplets of orange juice by his lover, and there was St. Aloysius holding another young, heterosexual man who had contracted AIDS through a needle infection. Over St. Francis is a glowing ring of the Crown of Thorns, with signs of hope, called wishbones, falling down upon them. Over St. Aloysius are three lilies, Catholic symbols of purity, in flames; we all become purified through fire.

I wanted to find a Virgin Mary that wasn’t white or wearing white. I chose the lushly-garmented Our Lady of Guadalupe. She wears a turquoise outer cloak, studded with stars, and a salmon-colored robe. On her lap is the Santo Nino, or Holy Child. He’s like one of those kids who reaches out to everyone, not knowing who is good, indifferent or bad. He just wants to hug everyone. My experience with AIDS patients was that they felt the adult Jesus was angry or judgmental towards them. So I’d tell them: Why not hold the Baby Jesus and talk to Him? This was hilarious to them—and yet they’d try.”

In 2022, 23 States have introduced anti-LGBTQ bills and 13 have signed them into law, disproportionately targeting transgender and non-binary people. During the current monkeypox outbreak, multiple Republican legislators have once again begun to perpetuate the deadly language that LGBTQIA+ people are “diseased.” On this Feast of St. Francis, I pray especially that my LGBTQIA+ siblings may experience Christ’s tenderness and love in those who claim to follow Him, like Francis. May we be loved in both words and actions - especially votes.

#catholic #christian #theology #st. francis of assisi #francis of assisi #lgbtq #queer #gay #gay catholic #lgbtq catholic #queer catholic #homophobia #politics #aids #hiv #st. aloysius gonzaga #mary #mary mother of god #theotokos #my posts #my writing #chaplain #chaplaincy #art #William hart McNichols #religious art #Catholic art

[robokisser2000]

Whirl x carrying! Reader

______________________________________

“Whirl,,-“

You ushered quietly, not wanting him to get in trouble with Ultra Magnus again. He’s been more challenging as of late, troubling to any poor mech thats roughhousing or way too close (from what he says).

“I Swear,,! If anybody even TRIES to hurt you, or our whirl Jr- or our sparkling, I’ll-“

Whirl was on his rant again, going on and on about how he’ll tear any mech apart for staring at you the wrong way, saying only he could ogle you.. 

With a sigh you held Whirl Jr, the small sparkling only beeping and chirping, nuzzling into the crane of your neck. 

You held him close, watching and observing Whirl as he went on and on with his rant, at this point monologuing about it. With a sigh you sat down, across from your screeching lover.

Whirl Jr watched his sire curiously, the small sparkling snuggled against you, settled atop your baby bump. 

“Whirl,,”

You spoke again, hoping to get his attention this time, if only for a second..

He snapped his thin helm towards you, his long neck stretching to get in your faceplate, perhaps you needed something,,? He wasn’t sure..

“Yes, babe,,?”

He was quick at answering, stopping his rant to hear your sweet voice, having caught his attention swiftly. He waited patiently, considering you just said his designation for fun. 

“Please, for primus sake- just,, relax. No one’s going to hurt us, okay,,?”

His tense frame went lax a bit, finding solace in your words for a hot klik. He paused, considering his choices, having found one he settled on, he sat next to you with a sigh. 

His long neck craned to rest on yours, his claws reaching around you to hold you and Whirl Jr, ‘cupping’ the small baby bump on your lower abdomen, his claw curiously tracing the mounds curves and crevices.

He huffed, his singular yellow optic glancing down at you, now a bit more brighter and larger, clearly fond and appreciative of such a moment.

“Fine, fine, maybe I was being a bit,, too dramatic- But! If something WERE to happen, do I have permission to blow their helm off,,?”

He tilted his helm curiously, his lanky limbs pulling you close as he focused in on you and Whirl Jr. 

A soft laugh emitted from your vocalizer, the sound resonating through the small area you two were residing in, his ‘protective sire’ antics eliciting a genuine laugh from you. 

Fine, maybe you’ll indulge him a bit on that, though seeing how unpredictable your conjunx endura is, you best take his threat with,, a grain of salt.

“Okay- fine, if it ever comes down to that, you can.”

This comforted him more, finally relaxing against you. He started beeping and chirping at whirl Jr, your adopted sparkling, the small punk started chirping back at his sire, rather enthusiastic. 

You sat back as they blabbered nonsense at one another, not understanding a single thing they were saying, only listening in as your conjunx and small sparkling ‘conversed’. 

You were at peace, safe in your lovers arms. Finally having a sparkling of your very own, along with Whirl Jr of course. Excited to give him a little sibling to care for, and to inhibit the process of child rearing.

Your two hyper mechs eventually settled down, Whirl Jr softly beeping and chirping as he slept on your chassis, Whirl was fast asleep, recharging on your back. 

Safe, safe and sound, these are the words to describe your soon to be complete family unit.. 

___________________________________________

this is like- a half of a request, I’m working on part 2 for the deadlock/drift x carrying! Reader

#transformers idw #transformers #x reader #whirl x reader #Whirly bird #Whirl jr