#something something man needs nature more than nature needs man

[chloewriteswhenshewantsto]

Afterglow

Authors Note: It’s me. Hi. I’m back with another attempt at “writing”. This is an angsty one this time. I felt I should learn to write something that pulls at the heartstrings. I hope this doesn’t disappoint.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton X Female! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Period Specific Sexism

Word Count: 2.9K

Anthony looks up from his desk, rubbing his tired eyes as he calls out a gruff. "Who is it?"

The rain outside continues to batter the windows, the sound muffled but still audible through the thick oak door of his office.

Anthony's expression softens immediately as he sees you standing in the doorway. He smiles, setting down his pen and pushing himself away from the desk.

"Love, what are you doing up at this hour?" he asks, his tone gentle as he looks over to you. "You should be in bed."

“I couldn’t fall asleep without you.” you admit sheepishly. “The bed doesn’t feel the same without you in it.”

Anthony's smile widens, his heart swelling with a tender affection as he hears your admission. He steps closer to you, his hands coming up to tenderly frame your face.

"You know I'd rather be in bed with you too, darling," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with tiredness. "But the ledgers won't balance themselves, I'm afraid."

“Surly you can do them in the morning, you’ve been working so hard lately, my love.”

Anthony lets out a weary sigh, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he holds your gaze.

"You know I'd love nothing more, sweetheart," he admits, his exhaustion clear in his voice. "But there's so much work to do. I've been neglecting my duties, thanks to our trip to the country"

“You have been in here all day, it is past midnight surly you can rest now.” you say frustratedly. Your husband is a hard worker, but the dark circles under his eyes betray him. He needs to rest.

Anthony flinches slightly at the tone in your voice, the frustration in your words evident. He lets out another sigh, his hands dropping from your face and going to his hips.

"I know I've been working late, darling," he says, his voice quieter now. "But there's just so much to do. The ton relies on me to keep the estate running smoothly, and with the ball coming up, there's so much to prepare for-"

“Then let me help you lighten the load, I might not know how to balance the books but teach me I am a quick learner. Surly two heads will be better than one.” you say, pleading with your husband to let you help ease his burden.

It is not a woman’s job to deal with finances, you know this, and your husband is a proud man that will want to take the pressure off everyone but himself. You can only hope that he is too tired to argue with you tonight.

Anthony hesitates for a moment, torn between his natural instinct to handle everything himself and the desire to please you.

"Darling, it's not your job to help me with all this," he starts hesitantly, his gaze flickering between you and the papers scattered on his desk. "I'm supposed to take care of everything, that's my responsibility as the viscount-"

“And what of my responsibility as your wife?” you interrupt him sharply. “Is it not part of my duties to help you when you are struggling.”

Anthony falls silent for a moment, your sharp words cutting through the air like a knife. He looks at you carefully, his expression a mixture of surprise and contemplation.

"Of course it is," he admits quietly, his shoulders deflating a fraction. "Be that as it may, these are things that I'm supposed to handle, sweetheart. The estate, the financial planning-"

“I wish to help, I wish to spend time with my husband outside this office!” you frustratedly plea.

Anthony's expression darkens, his shoulders tensing as he struggles to keep his own temper in check.

"You know I wish I could spend more time with you, darling," he snaps back.

"You think I don't want that too?" he retorts, his voice rising slightly. "You think I enjoy spending every waking moment in this damn office, bogged down by paperwork and figures? But it's my job, my responsibility-"

Anthony continues to rant, his frustration and exhaustion getting the better of him as he snaps at you.

"I don't need another problem to deal with. I don't need you hovering over me, trying to help, when I'm the one who has to carry the weight of this estate on my shoulders. You're already distracting me enough as it is."

The words hang in the air like a poison, their harshness cutting deep.

"You need to stop being so bloody needy!" he snaps, his tone sharp and frustrated. "I'm doing the best I can, but there's only so much I can handle! You're asking me to do the impossible. Besides, what on earth could you possibly know about running an estate? All you know is dresses and tea parties and silly little gossip rings, you don't know the first thing about what I’m going through-"

Anthony immediately regrets his words the moment they leave his mouth, his eyes widening in alarm as he realizes the damage his words have done. His lack of sleep and his patience that has been holding on by a thread that has finally snapped.

The words hang in the air like a poison, their harshness cutting deep into your heart.

Anthony's face softens immediately as he sees the tears welling up in your eyes. His anger and frustration disappear, replaced by regret and guilt as he realizes the impact of his words.

"Wait, darling, I didn't-" he starts, reaching out a hand towards you.

“I am sorry I didn’t realise I was another problem that you had to deal with, my lord.” you say stonily, taking a step back from his reach. “I shall leave you be.”

Anthony winces at your formal address, the coldness in your tone cutting through him like a knife.

"Wait, no, that's not what I meant-" he tries to explain, his voice filled with remorse.

Anthony stands there, frozen, as the door swings shut behind you. The sound of the rain outside is suddenly deafening, drowning out the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

"Shit," he mutters, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. "I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean it...fuck." he curses out, swiping the papers of his desk in anger.

Anthony storms over to the corner of the office, pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey. He downs it in one gulp before pouring himself another, the whiskey burning its way down his throat and into his stomach. He paces the room, his mind a maelstrom of guilt and self-recrimination.

Anthony spends most of the night in his office, drowning himself in paperwork and the bottle of whiskey by his side. He tries to focus on the figures in front of him, but his mind keeps drifting back to you.

He can still hear the echo of your hurt and angered voice in his ears, the way you'd shut the door behind you with a sharp click. It pains him how callous and cold he'd been to you, how he'd let his frustration spill out in the worst possible way…

As the first rays of sunlight start to filter through his office windows, Anthony finally falls asleep at his desk, head resting on his arms, his dreams plagued with visions of you. Countless apologetic notions fill his thoughts, he will make things better. He has too.

———————————————————————

Anthony groans, as daylight makes its way through his office windows. Lifting his head off the desk, memories of last night come rushing back, and with them, the sharp pang of guilt. His head is pounding from the liquor, his neck aching from the awkward position he slept in. He sits up, rubbing his temples with a weary groan, the events of the previous night playing over in his mind on repeat.

"Bloody hell," he mutters to himself, shoving a hand through his disheveled hair.

Anthony spots a maid walking down the hall as he emerges from his office, his expression still weary and guilt-ridden. He stops her, and with a gruff in his voice from tiredness, he asks her.

"Excuse me, have you seen my wife this morning? Where is she?"

The maid, a young woman with a cheerful smile, gives Anthony a puzzled look as he stops her in the hallway.

"Good morning, my lord," she says, a little taken aback by his weary and disheveled appearance.

Anthony runs a hand through his hair, attempting to straighten it but failing.

“I have not seen the viscountess this morning, my lord. Would you like me to check with the other maids on her whereabouts?” she respectfully responds.

His heart sinks at the maid's response. He had hoped that he would find you wandering the halls, ready for him to apologize and make things right. But instead, he is left with a sense of confusion and growing dread as to your whereabouts.

"Yes, please. Anything you can find out would be greatly appreciated. I need to speak with her urgently." he says tiredly.

The maid nods her head in understanding as Anthony dismisses himself to ascends the stairs with a heavy heart, his mind still spinning with guilt and worry. As he reaches the door to his bedroom, he hesitates for a moment, taking a deep breath as he mentally prepares himself to face you.

He quietly pushes the door open, peering into the bedroom to see if you are there.

Anthony's heart drops as he sees that the bed is still made and empty. You are nowhere to be found, and he immediately starts to panic.

"Damn it, where is she?" he mutters, stepping further into the room as he looks around frantically trying to find clean clothing to change into.

Stepping out of his room, Anthony runs through the hallways of the estate, calling out your name frantically as he looks in every room and corridor, his footsteps echoing loudly. He checks the library, the study, the drawing room, anywhere he can think of where you might be, but you are nowhere to be found.

"Damn it, where are you?" he repeats, his voice ragged and desperate. "Please, love, where are you?"

As Anthony is running through the estate, he is stopped by a staff member who approaches him urgently. His eyes immediately snap to theirs, a flicker of hope and desperation in his gaze.

"What is it? Where is she?" he asks urgently, his voice betraying his anxiety.

Anthony listens intently to the staff member's words, his heart hammering in his chest as he hears the words "gardens". Without a moment's hesitation, he spins on his heel and takes off in that direction, his steps quick and determined.

Anthony's heart stutters in his chest as he sees you, tucked away in a tranquil corner of the gardens, reading a book. Relief floods through him, but it is quickly replaced by guilt and worry. He pauses, watching you for a moment, his eyes taking in your figure, the sight of you a balm to his weary heart.

Taking a deep breath, he steels himself and starts to walk towards you. Your eyes meet his, and he is struck by the sight of you, sitting there under the tree, reading like nothing had happened between you. His heart clenches in his chest, and he opens his mouth to speak.

"Darling," he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

“I suppose so, if you are not too busy that is.” you dryly respond looking up at him.

Anthony flinches slightly at the cold tone in your voice, but he doesn't blame you for being angry. He takes a seat on the grass next to you, rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion and regret.

"I am never too busy for you," he replies softly, his gaze fixed on yours. "I... I wanted to talk to you, to apologize for last night."

Your expression does not give him hope that this will be an easy conversation for them to have. Feeling nervous he gestures towards the book in your lap, his expression softening.

"May I ask what you're reading?" he inquired, his voice quieter now, almost nervous.

“It is a book on mathematics, I thought it would be smart to fill my brain with things other than dresses and endless gossip.” you respond hitting back at him for his earlier words.

He winces at your words, his shoulders visibly tense as he absorbs the sting in them. He knows he deserves it, after everything he said to you last night. But still, the reminder of his careless words hurts.

"I deserved that," he admits quietly, his eyes downcast. "And I am sorry, for what I said yesterday. It was careless and cruel, and I didn't mean it, truly. You are not another problem, love. You are my partner, my wife. I was just... frustrated, overwhelmed."

Releasing a sigh you meet his eyes. You can see how tired he looks, how vulnerable.

“I know that, which is why I wanted to help. I never meant to become another issue that you had to deal with when you are already so busy.”

Anthony's heart aches as he sees the hurt in your eyes. He reaches out a hand, tentatively resting it on your knee.

"You are not an issue," he says firmly. "You are the furthest thing from it. I was out of line, love, and I'm sorry. I... I should have let you help, should have been grateful that you cared enough to ask. I know how difficult it is for you, sitting at home while I'm stuck in that office day in and day out."

“You hurt me you know, with your words,” you say sadly. “I went to bed alone last night and I cried for what seemed like hours. Then I thought of how angry I was with your stubbornness, so I woke up this morning and went straight to the library because as much as I am upset with you I still love you too much to see you end up in an early grave because you worked yourself to death.”

Anthony's heart clenches as he hears your words, knowing he is the cause of your pain. He lets out a shaky breath, his hand tightening on your knee as he hangs his head in shame.

"I know," he says quietly, his voice thick with regret. "And I don't blame you for being angry with me, I was a fool for saying those things to you. You have no idea how much I regretted those words as soon as they left my mouth. I hurt you, and for that, I am truly sorry. Tell me how can I make it better."

“If you wish to make things up to me you may sit with me and teach me what you know of accounts. I do not wish to have this argument again so I wish to know so I may lend a hand when you truly need it.”

Anthony's eyes widen in surprise at your suggestion, but he quickly composes himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He nods slowly, his hand still resting on your knee, a warm and reassuring presence.

"I'd be happy to teach you," he says softly. "And I promise, I will never be that careless again, love. I'll ask for your help next time, I swear it."

“Hmmm, you better.” you gently smile at him. “Also if I am to help you I would like a desk. A large one.”

Anthony chuckles weakly at your request, a mix of relief and amusement at your stubbornness. He nods, his gaze fixed on you.

"Of course, love. You'll have your very own desk, right next to mine. And I'll make sure to explain everything to you, I promise."

You lean over to kiss him gently. Placing a hand on his cheek. You can never stay mad at him for long you blame his face.

“You know if we are to spend more time together in your office, we might need to think of a way to destress after all our hard work.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow at your words, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Oh, and what do you suggest we do to... 'destress', love?" he asks, his voice dropping lower, a hint of something dark and suggestive in his tone.

“Hmmm something like this prehaps.” you say as you climb upon his lap giggling.

Anthony's breath hitches as you climb onto his lap, and he instinctively puts his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. His eyes darken with desire as he looks up at you, a smirk on his lips.

"I like the way you think, love," he laughs, his hands traveling up your waist.

The staff can't help but overhear the sound of laughing and joyous voices coming from the gardens, and a wave of relief washes over them. After all, witnessing the viscount and viscountess argue and bicker wasn't a comforting sight for them. As they continue about their work, they can't help but feel glad that the tension between you and Anthony has been lifted, replaced instead by playful banter and laughter. A happy couple suited the viscount and viscountess a far lot better than a bickering one.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton #taylor swift #lover #afterglow #taylor swift lyrics

[devonpink]

The Return

After two years of intense dedication to the gym, Colton had finally gone from slim twink to muscle hunk. He now had the body of a sex god and couldn't wait to show it off. Perfect timing, since Pride month was just around the corner. Unfortunately, everything was far too small when the rainbow tank tops and short shorts he ordered online finally arrived. Sure, he wanted to look slutty, but not like his clothes were suffocating him.

Luckily, the clothing store Colton ordered from did returns in person. He headed over expecting a mundane transaction but got the best return of his life.

Within moments of steeping inside the store, Colton was struck by how insanely hot all the employees were: sexy muscle hunks who were all practically in danger of ripping their tight uniforms with one good flex. The lingering smell of cologne and masculine musk was playing with his head, melting all thought. The hypnotic-sounding music playing over the speakers didn't help. By the time he got up to the return counter, his brain felt like mush, delirious with lust. He could barely talk to the mouthwatering hunk before him, lost in the stud's perfect smile and dreamy eyes. He felt dumb, liable to agree or do anything that sexy stud wanted—which was the true intent of the store and its employees.

"I can see why you're returning these, bro! Far too faggy for you, bro!" The stud confidently remarked, taking the pride merch from Colton. Unbeknownst to Colton, he threw them in the trash bin beside him, where he felt they truly belonged. "You need something far more normal and traditional for you, bro! You're a real man, after all, bro! Not a faggot!"

Colton, a proud gay man who had zero qualms with angrily confronting homophobes, could unexpectedly care less about the employee's homophobic remarks. In fact, he was too lost in horny haziness to even care. Instead, he just nodded his dumb, horny head in traitorous agreement.

"The duds over here are far more fitting for you, bro." Smirking evilly, the stud redirected Colton to their new men's workout clothing line.

"Thanks, bro." Colton had never uttered the word "bro" before, but it came out as natural as breathing.

Colton lingered over the plain black, white, and navy grey tank tops and gym shorts for a while, going slowly on account of his newly dumb state of mind—which has turned out to have become permanent. He bought everything they had, including a few "straight pride" shirts. He left that store a new man, the old Colton permanently gone.

Colton's new and improved duds fit him snuggly as a glove, though they spend more time on the bedroom floor of some random chick than on him. He's lost count of how many sluts he's slain with his fat meat sword. He's always finding new whores to conquer at the gym, his second home. He could spend all day gooning over his reflection and picking up pussy. He doesn't even remember being gay, only that he's hot as fuck and straight as hell: young, dumb, and desperate to fill horny girls with cum.

#gay to straight #transformation #male tf story #tf story #male transformation

[cosycafune]

YOU’RE JUST LIKE YOUR DADDY!

rich boy’s playhouse: chapter two:

a summary of the story: to continue to reap the benefits of satoru’s playhouse and love, you need to prove that you are worthy. I mean, the two of you love each other, but that’s only expressed through clouded, emotionally-unstabled intimacy. but what happens when a masked man hurts your emotions, leading to satoru attempting to romantically comfort you in ways you wouldn’t expect?

a synopsis of acts: fluff, angst, talks of intimacy, comforting, verbal fighting, threats of fighting, crying, almost panic attack, coldness, dismissiveness, mentions of spiralling, humiliation, threats, slapping, unestablished relationship, mentions of sexual acts, friends with benefits. chapter 2/???

previous part: chapter one.

“It’s always me,” Listening to your phone continuously ringing, you ignore it — mumbling to yourself while you lay within your bed.

Everything within you vigorously ached, being subjected to walking so long without any sense of direct. Well, what hurt further was sobbing erratically on your way back, feeling like a bird in a cage. It wounded your heart that Satoru completely humiliated you, unwilling to chase after someone like you.

Innately, it was all your fault. All your fault for expecting more from someone who showed you obvious love, only to scoff whenever you addressed it as love. Satoru’s your first everything, but he’s too knitted into his ego to realise that all you’ve ever done is love him. Yet, the only times he had ever shown that is through intimacy, where the two of you are concealed — tiny specs of nothing.

“If he ever cared, he wouldn’t have let me walk an hour home, crying, aching and a mental wreck,” Grasping onto your sheets with hurt, a lump forms within your throat, “How can he turn back and walk back to the party, knowing everyone feels sorry for me?” With your head thumping, you continue to ignore your phone.

Satoru’s feelings are complex to you, but it weirds you out drastically — especially since the two of you have shared so many romantic and sexual experiences together. You’re both each other’s first times, through virginities, angst, friendship and more. In your eyes, it hurt that the two of you were something. Yet, within his eyes, it seems as if he views you as nothing — something lowly and worth using.

What were you expecting from someone so rich, who’s occasionally an asshole? But most importantly, someone whose relationship with their parents is nothing more than in shambles right now. As, Satoru’s father had been absent from his life for months — in moments where he needed him the most. So, it’s obvious Satoru’s taking his burning strands of heartache and burning them upon a once supple you.

Now, you linger — your limbs tainted and etched with the imperfections of Satoru’s nature. Imperfections he concealed behind his looks, his niceness only reserved in moments of friendship, intimacy or where you’re completely alone. Never would he ever want to openly press his lips upon your own, claim you publicly — so you knew what you had to do.

Frankly, you wanted to start fresh — away from the pitiful stares of people who feel bad for you. Bad as you’re being openly strung along, tackled with the hardship of a man whose greed suppressed all there is to you.

Selfishly, Satoru had disoriented your value — blowing hot and cold deliberately. Deliberately to observe you helpless scramble to save him, alighting his ego with the concept of knowing you would forever linger beside him. Forever inhale, ingrain and worship the pain and etching he would plant upon you.

Even in humiliation, he couldn’t help but seal your lips — so you met his standards. They’re subconscious procedures, but you knew his heart ached whenever he pushed you to your limits, completely breaking you until you’re pleading for him to free you or to apologise. Yet, this is your last straw.

“I will not be Satoru’s plaything or stupid playhouse, where he doesn’t want to choose me publicly,” Coming up with a plan to flee from Satoru’s cruel romantic reign upon you, you bundle yourself into a vulnerable ball, “I’ll choose to live with my mama, as no one knows where she lives.” Finalising the idea, you can’t help but spring up — growing agitated by Satoru’s spam calling.

Darting towards your desk, you drag your ailing physique towards your phone — astonished by Satoru’s heaps of miss calls.

Scoffing, you instinctively block Satoru’s overwhelming number — your heart longing for a slither of peace he would never grant you. Steering away from the resolved issue of Satoru Gojo, you nervously dial your mother’s number — longing to occupy her cottage with her. As, after all, living with your father was simply to gift you a better range of opportunities: university and the city.

Ring, Ring, Ring. Your heartbeat quickens, every moment you linger here squeezing your contorted heart — leaving you vulnerable to Satoru’s vengeance. One thing you knew was to not block him, as he would scan every surface of the world to discover your fleeing presence.

After all, Satoru’s attachment issues were insane — leaving you a chess piece within his pocket for whenever he longed to speak to you. Not all of your moments were bad moments, but a lot of the bad moments concealed the good moments where the two of you consistently consoled each other — making sure the two of you are okay.

However, it’s an okay that dodges the conflict in your heart and the unestablished ropes of your distorted relationship with Satoru.

“C’mon, mama, answer,” Beginning to panic, you violently ball up your fist — longing for you last steak of hope to not bail upon you.

“Y/n, baby, what’s up?” Gasping at your mother’s gentle voice, you reveal your smile and your sniffles.

“Mama, can I come back home for a bit?” Concealing your rough cries, you let out a choked sob through your sheepish request.

“I can book a quick taxi to come and get you, don’t bother with packing,” Understanding writhes within your mother’s elegant tone, pushing you into longing for her company.

“Thank you, mama,” Concealing your fearful sobs of sombreness, you shakily spew your strained breaths.

“I’ll be here for you, my sweet girl,” Your mama announces sweetly, leaving you into letting her notice your frantic cries. Cries that leave her gasping, unable to fathom the ache you carry against your chest.

“I just thought that someone would love me for me,” Snifljng, you inform your mother hopelessly, “I trusted him, but he humiliated me in front of everyone.” Ranting to her, you listen to her breaths of conflict, anger and ache.

No one wanted to see their baby in pain.

“No, don’t let a stupid boy make you question your worth,” Anger entwines with your mother’s tone, “You’re perfect, so don’t blame yourself for an idiot boy not realising he had everything in front of him.” Hyperventilating at your mother’s maternal assurance, you weep loudly — incapable of holding back your over-pouring emotions.

You’ve bottled them up for months.

“Baby, I’ll be here for you, mama’s here,” Focusing on your mother’s voice, your heart swells lovingly, “You’re my baby, and I’ll hug you for as long as it takes.” Holding back her own tears, your mother proposes her heartfelt promise.

“I just wanted to be enough for him,” Croakily speaking, you begin to calm down slightly — focusing on your mother’s angelic humming.

“He’s too much of an idiot to not realise he had everything he needed in front of him,” Gasping at mama’s straightforward sentence, you grow to realise your time is strained and limited.

If you didn’t hurry, Satoru would gather you again — spoiling you momentarily to suppress you. You knew his patterns, but your tired physique still longed to be catered to by your first love. A man who happened to reign up you, through so much more than anyone else could understand.

“The taxi’s here, my darling dove,” Your mama tells you, staying on the phone to you while you put nothing more on than shoes. Even if you’re in your pyjamas, you didn’t care — you needed to leave.

Running effortlessly, you grow uncaring for your messy looks, your unkempt breathing and the downpour of your emotions. Emotions that leave you spiralling whilst you run, the vacancy of the halls granting you an unwatched freedom. No peering eyes captured you right now, your temporary control over freedom exhilarated you.

Arriving at the front of your dorm building, you spot the peering taxi — opening the door and settling within it. Your mother confirmed who the taxi driver was before you settled in, leaving you feeling safe — even if it was two am in the morning.

“You’ll be okay, young girl,” The taxi woman spews, smiling at you from her driver’s mirror — leaving you to breakdown further.

As you take in the entirety of everything, you view a panicking, ivory head strolling towards your dorm building. That’s when you realised that Satoru had planned to selfishly console you, pushing you into subconsciously monitoring him.

Foolishly watching his messy physique, your eyes bury into the teary state of Satoru Gojo.

“Damn, that boy looks a mess,” The taxi lady announces, leaving you to block out her words — focusing contently on a surveying Satoru.

“Satoru,” Muttering his name from your shaky lips, it’s as if he heard you. As when you subconsciously say his name in a farewell whisper, his eyes greet your ruined ones in the taxi.

“Y/n?!” Inching nearer to the taxi, you erratically lock the taxi door, “I won’t let you leave me without you letting me confess to you!” Satoru frustratingly speaks, pushing you into weeping further — unwilling to fall for his never ending cycle.

“No! You embarrassed me!” Growing angered, you finally raised your voice at Satoru’s pleading state, “You shut me up in front of everyone, letting them look at me with pity, before you turned back.” Shaking your head, covering your ears, you barely could meet Satoru’s eyes.

“I just wanted you to love me, you know?” Gathering confidence, you meet his desperate, cerulean eyes, “I’m tired of being baggage you only like when you’re happy.” Sniffling, you glance at Satoru with nothing more than hope that he would tear down the door and start new with you.

“You’re not baggage,” Satoru truthfully tells you, his unkempt demeanour properly being registered by you as he forces himself to swallow his pride.

“Goodbye, Satoru,” Painfully spewing words you were never fond of, you push down your shaky hands, your heart unable to handle saying goodbye to him.

“I won’t let this be goodbye,” Stress overwhelms Satoru’s groggy, choppy statement.

“You’re literally your daddy’s son!” You shout with annoyance, unsure of how he made this about himself.

Satoru’s lips part with a raw pain that endows you, too, “I’m in pain, but you still manage to make it about you because you’re Satoru Gojo.” Muttering, you were glad that you muted your mother beforehand — or she would have cussed Satoru out.

“Drive, ma’am!” Swiftly shouting your words, the taxi driver begins to drive — leaving you to watch Satoru lightly bang against the window in a desperate plead.

“No! No! No!” Satoru exclaims through his pelting tears, momentarily running to his car — in hopes you wouldn’t get away.

However, Satoru was too late. Too late to reach the taxi, as the streets ran cold — completely empty. Not a single trace of your presence remained, aside from the pink phone keychain he had purchased you. In his eyes, that was your way of saying an unspeakable goodbye — leaving him hellbent on saving you from the old parts of him.

Satoru wanted to change to find you again. He had to, as he loved you with all he had. Yet, it only took him now to realise that he had been loving you in all the wrong ways. He had failed to truly pour his heart into the romantic aspects you longed for, and a title for him to claim with you.

You just wanted to be seen, and he failed to gift you something so beautiful.

Rich boy’s playhouse. Maybe he is his daddy’s son? Because in the same way his mother suffered, that’s what he had pushed onto you.

Satoru’s going to make this right, even if it takes him plentiful years.

—

do not copy, modify or translate my works. all rights belong to me: cosycafune. 2024.

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk satoru #angst #gojo fanfic #gojo angst #gojo smut #satoru gojo x black reader #gojo x y/n #jujutsu gojo #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru smut #jujutsu satoru #satorugojo #satoru fluff

[amethystwrytes]

Imaginary Games

▪️Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem. Reader

▫️Genre: Romantic, Smut, Exes to Lovers, Smidge of Hurt

▪️Warnings: 18+ Explicit language, sexual content (vanilla), pining idiots, past infidelity.

▫️Summary: The only thing that could make a destination wedding - in which you're the maid of honor, who has to give a speech in front of a crowd, who has to wear a dress that cost you a pretty penny that you'll never wear again - worse is the fact that your cheating ex is the best man.

▪️WC: 8k and some change

▫️AN: Repost from previous blog. Honestly I just really liked this fic. It wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea and I get that. Cheating is one of those things that we all have very strong opinions on, naturally, and that’s totally valid. For me, I just really enjoyed writing this and I liked how it turned out. The whole bit about Taehyungs ruined cashmere alone was enough for this to make the reposting cut 😂🧶

“He isn’t here yet, he won’t be here until dinner tonight so you can relax,” Fi, your best friend and blushing bride-to-be tries to comfort you as she shifts around on her beach chair. 

She’s talking about Taehyung, of course, you don’t need to ask. He’s your ex, that you haven’t laid eyes on in two years. Not since the night that he admitted to cheating on you with a co-worker. You’d felt so incredibly stupid. You’d been casually babbling about meal planning of all the mundane things (it’s more cost effective and healthy blah blah!), and he started crying and spilled the whole story out of guilt. You’d been too stunned to argue, or fight, so you did what you always do when someone hurts you: You said nothing, or at least nothing of value, and you walked away. He’d tried to run after you, begged you to just talk to him, tried to wipe the tears that fell from your face in a devastated shower, but you wouldn’t let him. You slapped his arm away so hard your fingers had tingled for an hour, and you told him never to speak to you or touch you again. 

A typical person might fight, scream, or try to have a discussion. A typical person would ask questions between bouts of screaming like “Do you love her?” “Did it mean anything?” “Do you still want me?” - the kind of questions that are natural when you’ve been fucked over like that. You definitely dwelled on those questions a lot, but you were too stubborn to ever ask them, because that would mean you’d have to speak to him, and you’d made it clear you were done speaking. If you spoke to him that might give him the impression that you were willing to listen to his side of things, and that might lead to him thinking you could forgive him. Can’t have that. 

You’re not a forgiving person, not when the offense is that deep and it was. You loved Kim Taehyung with your whole heart. You planned on doing ‘old and gray’ with him. You built future plans together, he was your best friend, he was your safe place and you were all those things for him as well. It was right, he was Mr. Right. 

You find it so unusual and infuriating that even after two years, you feel that pain like it was freshly served every time you think of him.

“I’m relaxed,” you tell her with a stiff shrug, “and this weekend is about you and Joon, not me, so I don’t care when he’s coming.” 

 In the two years you’d been broken up with Tae, you had found it quite challenging to keep up your friendship with Fi, considering her significant other - and now fiance - was Taehyungs older brother. In fact, they met because you and Tae had set them up on a blind double date. You managed, however, to avoid him at all costs. Until now, because who else would Namjoon choose to be his Best Man other than his brother? 

“Yeah you really look it,” Fi snorts, “you’re sitting beside the ocean underneath a warm sun and you look so uptight that I’m scared you’re going to start shitting diamonds.” 

“Well maybe I’ll shit a necklace, it can be your ‘something new’,” you tease and she laughs, maybe you’ve dodged the wrath of her observational skills. 

You try to go back to your book, you’ve made it all the way to page two, but just like every other time this morning you’ve attempted to read - the words start to blur together when your mind begins to think of the inevitable: He will be here. You will have to interact. You’ll have to play nice. 

“You know, Joon says he hasn’t gone out with anyone since you two split,” she offers casually as she flips onto her stomach. 

“Fi…” her name comes out as a warning. 

“Sue me, I’m just saying that it’s worth noting the man has been punishing himself the entire time you’ve-,” 

“Where’s your phone? I need to check the time,” you say quickly, digging in her tote until you feel the shape of the device that you don’t need whatsoever. You’ve got nowhere to be until dinner this evening. 

“You can change the subject all you want, but tonight at dinner you’ll have to face the problem you’ve been running from all this time head on,” she reminds you, painfully. 

“I’ve not been running Fi. I walked away, with the entire thing blowing up behind me and didn’t look back. There’s a difference,” you point out. 

“Fine. Avoiding is the better verb then. Semantics,” she eyes you from under the brim of her hat, “you never gave him the chance to explain what happened.” 

You scoff, “Unless his dick leapt off his body and kamikazed into her vagina I don’t really need to know what happened. Do you know what happened?” you ask out of curiosity, though you immediately regret the words, it gives the impression that you give a shit. 

“No, I don’t. I promised you I wouldn’t discuss you with him and I haven’t - though he’s tried many, many times - but I do think it’s a conversation you should have with him ___,” she props herself up on her arms, “People move on from affairs all the time, sometimes together, sometimes apart. The point is that they decide what’s best based on all the information, not just the pain it caused.” 

She’s making you angry. You bite down hard on your lower lip to ground yourself. You don’t want to yell or fight with her, not this weekend when it’s her big moment. Her wedding. 

“Hey, I’m starting to feel the sun,” you say, and it’s not a total lie, “I think I’m going to go in and cool off, get some water and lunch. Do you want anything?” you ask. 

You look up towards the hotel and see that Namjoon is on his way down with a towel draped over his shoulder. 

“Ah, nevermind,” you pat her on the back, “a buff Sea God approaches. He’ll take care of you.” 

You gather up your own things and start walking up the beach access where you cross paths with him. 

“Joon,” you greet him with a little nod. 

“Hey. So, how many mimosas has my bride had this morning?” he chuckles. 

“Four,” you answer, “but those last two had like the vapor of OJ in them, so I think it’s probably time for a dunk,” you wink. 

You don’t quite make it into the hotel before you hear Fi’s shrill scream and you smile as you watch Joon pluck her off the chair, toss her over his shoulder and head to the water. They splash and play and you can’t help but enjoy it - but then pain encroaches on the moment and your smile fades as it so often does, and you disappear into the hotel before anyone can see how bitter you are. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon and Fi had wanted you all to carpool to the restaurant together, but you’d insisted on driving yourself for a few reasons. 

For one, it gave you an immediate means of escape, should the sight of Kim Taehyung drive you to projectile vomiting. Also, it gave you some time alone to talk yourself up, to psych yourself into thinking you could navigate this evening without succumbing to any emotions. You’d done such a good job, for two long years, of not letting him know what he did to you. Not letting him see how he devastated your life. Most importantly though, not letting him in. 

“The Kim-Park wedding party?” you tell the hostess as you walk into the lobby. It must be freezing in here, the way your arms and legs erupt in chills. 

“Sure,” she smiles brightly and points across the dining area, “out on the patio, just through those glass doors.” 

“Thanks.” 

No less than sixty seconds ago, getting out of your car, you’d felt confident. However, as you close in on the patio doors you realize that despite knowing this moment was coming, despite going over it in your head every night for the past few months - you have no idea what to say to him. You’d not practiced the conversation even once in your head, which is unprecedented for you. 

You pull your hand off the door like it burned you and slip to the side before anyone from the party can see you through the glass. You press your back up against the cold wall and take a deep breath. 

“I think we’re both doing the same thing.” 

His voice, so deep and familiar, daggers you. You look over and sure enough, on the other side of the doors he stands there, tall and lean, pressed up against the wall with his fists shoved into his pockets. 

He crosses over to you, and you take an instinctual step back, he notices but doesn’t remark on it. 

“I’m hiding from you and you’re hiding from me,” he continues. 

At some point, you’ll have to speak. Eventually he’s going to think you’ve either lost your voice or worse, that his presence has rendered you speechless and you refuse to let that happen. 

“Why would I hide from you?” you ask, correcting your posture and steeling your nerves. 

“Because you don’t know what to say, and you hate not knowing what to say,” he answers and your blood boils at the fact that he’s right. You hate that he knows you, inside and out, knows your personality, your faults, your strengths, your comforts. He knows what you look like naked, what you love in bed and how to - STOP. There is absolutely no way you’re letting your mind go there. 

“Why would you be hiding from me?” you ask instead of admitting he was spot on with you. 

“Because I was afraid at how much it would hurt to see you,” he says, “turns out it was worse than I’d thought.” 

He looks at you then, really looks, from your face all the way down to your heels. 

“You look so pretty,” he whispers with the saddest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a human being. You think you also see the glint of tears dusting his lids. 

“Thanks,” you say in a cold, disinterested cadence, “We should get in there before they start wondering where we are.”

“Listen, __, I’d really like to sit down and talk to you this weekend,” he stops you by placing his palm gently on your shoulder. It may as well have shocked you, the way you stiffen up and shimmy away from it. 

“Taehyung,” you say sternly, “We’re here this weekend because your brother and my best friend are getting married. It’s their weekend, and you and I are responsible for making sure everything is memorable and good. That is the beginning and end of my obligations. So I really couldn’t give a flying fuck about what you want.” 

Then you push through the doors without giving him a chance to reply. 

You hate yourself. You didn’t have to be that cruel, not after two years of giving him the silent treatment. The look on his face tells you that you may have taken it too far. 

However, by the time you’ve sat down you’ve already switched gears. You angrily set your clutch on the table. The look on his face? On his face? It’s nothing compared to the look that was on yours. The look you wore for months in the wake of what he’d done. So he can look however the fuck he wants. To Hell with him. 

A waiter brings you a glass of champagne and you fight the urge to chug it down and ask for another. That won’t do any good though. The last thing Fi and Namjoon need is for you to get hammered at their party and ruin it. Besides, champagne hangovers are the worst. It’s not worth upsetting Fi. 

When you look up to see Fi storming towards you, you think that ship may have already sailed. 

“What?” you ask like a child about to get yelled at. 

“What did you do to him?” she hisses, taking the seat next to you. You don’t dare ask who she means, else she might smack you out of your chair. 

“Nothing?” 

“That’s weird,” she scrunches her face, “because Joon is in the mens room convincing Taehyung not to leave! He’s crying ___.” 

“Oh for God’s sake,” you roll your eyes. 

Her hand squeezes your arm, more violent than comforting, “Go fix this. For two years I have been on Team ___ one hundred percent. I have cried with you, screamed with you, drank with you, wallowed with you and hated on him with you. It’s my turn. Please go be on my team.” 

Her words hurt, and you suddenly feel like a villain. 

“Okay, okay,” you stand and finish off your champagne, “I’m going right now.” 

When you swing open the mens room door you catch sight of Taehyungs disheveled face in the reflection of the mirror. You have to look away because he’s so devastatingly handsome, but also because it turns your stomach in knots to see him hurt, even after everything that happened. 

“I’ll just,” Namjoon mumbles, side stepping you towards the door, “yeah.” 

You both stand there silent for a long time, the only noise in the space are his sniffles, which echo against the metal stalls. Eventually someone is going to come in so you need to move it along. 

“I won’t apologize to you,” you begin with, because you feel like it’s important to outline that boundary. You owe him nothing, least of all an apology. “There are no words that I could use against you that will hurt you more than you hurt me.” 

“I’m sorry,” his apology comes out in a hoarse rasp that grates on your deepest heartstrings. “___, I’m so fucking sorry. You have to know that by now. I’ve not dated another person, I’ve not even fucking touched anyone since you walked out of my apartment - two years!” 

You don’t believe for a second that he’s been touch starved for two entire years, and you add that on to his pile of lies. 

“I love you, still, I’ve loved you every second,” he blurts it all out in a rush, and you expect he assumes you’re going to walk out or slap his mouth shut any second. The words still effect you, the notion that he still loves, after all that’s happened, and you feel your throat tighten with the threat of tears. 

“Don’t,” you hold up your hand, “Just don’t. We need to get it together. Namjoon and Fi expect us to be there for them this weekend and that’s what we need to do. So we’re going to walk back in there together like we’re best fucking friends, go on, do what you need to do,” you wave toward the sink. 

He sighs, resigning to you, and turns away. 

When he’s splashed his face and dried off the two of you end up where you started at the patio doors. He offers you his arm. 

“Pretending to be friendly doesn’t require you touching me Taehyung,” you point out. 

“Can I at least open the door for you?” he asks, pushing the door ajar before you can answer. The palm of his hand ends up resting against the small of your back. You stiffen and shoot him a look. 

“Sorry,” he pulls it away rapidly, “old habits.” 

“Break them,” you seethe, then transition back into the party, trying to look pleasant. 

Your back tingles in the wake of his touch, or maybe tingle isn’t the right word, but you feel it. Like a phantom pain. You hate that it felt good, natural, and like a comfort. 

You try not to think about it. You try not to think about how different this weekend would be had he not ruined everything. You try not to think about how happy and fun it would be to celebrate Namjoon and Fi together, as a couple. Would he have proposed by now? Would he have done it this weekend? After Fi and Joon ride off into the sunset together, would he have taken your hand and walked you down the beach and given you a ring? 

You push it down, pretending that you’re not hurting. You smile through a dance with Taehyung and Joons father, and brush it off when he mentions how disappointed he was how things ended between you and his youngest son. You smile through a photo of the wedding party, which just consists of you, Tae, and the bride and groom - thankfully you stand on the opposite end of Taehyung. 

You wait until you get back in your hotel room to fall apart. 

~~~~~~~

“No rest for the wicked?” 

Namjoons voice startles you. You’ve been sitting in an outdoor area of the hotel that overlooks the ocean. 

“I don’t get to come to the beach often, just soaking it in,” you tell him and look out over the seemingly infinite darkness of the water against the night sky. 

He hands you a beer and sits down in the seat next to you. 

“Thanks.” 

“Thank you,” he says, “for talking to Tae so he wasn’t a sniveling mess all night.” 

“I didn’t,” you reply honestly, “I have no interest in talking, but I did tell him we needed to keep it together for you and Fi.” 

Namjoon nods and sips his beer. 

“You’re still angry with him?” the question sounds more like a statement, but either way it irks the shit out of you. 

“Wouldn’t you be?” you snap a little. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “Maybe. I’d think I’d at least want some closure though. So I could move on with life without being so angry all the time.” 

“I’m not angry all the time,” you argue. 

“Aren’t you?” again, it sounds more like a statement. 

“You know, since it’s such a monumental event I’ve been trying really hard not to knock your heads together, but if you and Fi don’t stop dredging up my relationship with your brother I make no promises,” you half joke, half warn. 

Namjoon laughs a little, but his smile fades after a few moments. 

“Maybe we just see something you don’t.” 

“Yeah? What do you see?” you challenge. 

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to be brutally honest?” he asks permission. 

“Sure,” you lie and take a difficult swig of beer. 

“I see my little brother, who made a mistake. A terrible, awful, stupid mistake - but a mistake no less,” he begins but you cut him off already. 

“Namjoon, a mistake is filing your taxes wrong. A mistake is forgetting to pull the roast out of the oven. A mistake is something you didn’t mean to do. Fucking someone else is a very long string of choices in which multiple opportunities to stop occur and the person chooses to continue anyway,” you explain. 

“Okay, fair enough,” he sighs, “I see my little brother who made a very awful and stupid choice. I’ve watched him rot in it for the last two years. I’ve watched him punish himself to torture. He won’t let himself enjoy anything, he won’t let himself be happy. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh. I’ve never seen him in such a dark place.” 

“You’re breakin’ my heart,” you mutter darkly, taking a long sip. 

Namjoon tenses, but he doesn’t scold you. 

“Then I see you,” he points the tip of his bottle towards you, “who’s writhed in your own misery for two years. You never even had a conversation with him, you just stamped a period down before the sentence was even over. You love him,” he holds his finger up to shush you when you start to deny this, “Don’t deny it. Just shut up and listen. You love him, because if you didn’t it wouldn’t still effect you so much. He loves you too, by the way. I’m not saying you need to get back together with him, I know it seems like that’s where I’m going with this but I’m not. What I mean is that you need to talk, and I’m sure it will be a very uncomfortable conversation, but you both need that closure. This misery has to end.” 

“He cheated on me Joon,” you say pathetically, chin wobbling. 

“I know, I know he did and it was so disappointing to all of us. We were all pissed at him, but I also know how uncharacteristic it was. He’s never done anything like that before, and I doubt he’d ever do it again. You’ve got to stop acting that even entertaining the idea of forgiving him or even speaking to him would make you lose this imaginary game that no one is playing,” he says. 

An imaginary game that no one is playing. 

The words play over and over in your head long after you finish your conversation with Namjoon. They plague you all night, and most of the next day. 

Are you playing a game in your head? The more you allow yourself to think about it, the more you realize that you’re no different than you were that night. You haven’t changed or grown or moved forward in any direction in two years. You’re still the same wounded, humiliated, hurt woman who was sitting in his apartment while he told you he fucked someone else. Maybe you should have had a discussion - no maybe - you should have. Probably not that same evening, God knows you were in no condition to have a stable, adult conversation. 

In the aftermath though, that’s when people start to rebuild, and you did nothing of the sort. Not with Taehyung by any means, but not with yourself either. You’d chosen to stay miserable, chosen to hold that hate so strong in your heart that no one, not him or anyone, could penetrate it. You’d done it all because you thought it would punish him, but all you’ve truly done is punish yourself. 

~~~~~~~~

Rehearsing the ceremony, and going to the dinner that followed was non-negotiable as Maid of Honor. Obviously. This is the part you’d been dreading, because as Best Man, Taehyung was practically your escort for the duration of the wedding. 

So far you’ve managed to remain civil, if being completely silent is civility. Thankfully Taehyung has read the vibe and hasn’t tried starting up any type of conversation with you. Eventually the minister pulls Namjoon and Fi off and you and Taehyung are left completely alone. 

“Think we’re done?” he asks. 

You’ve rehearsed the ceremony no less than seven times, and aside from the bumpy first take, the rest went off without a hitch. The music is on point, you and Taehyung know your cues, Fi’s youngest cousin had a blast tossing her pretend flowers. Everything went according to plan. 

“Probably,” you offer him three syllables and no more. 

“Good. I’m starving,” he says, resting his elbows on his knees. He starts playing with the sand beneath him, and you watch him. Like this, with his attention elsewhere, you can observe. His hair is much longer, his frame a little thinner and you wonder if that’s got something to do with an emotional issue or if he’s been dieting or something. It bothers you, that he might not be eating properly, and you get angry with yourself. Then Namjoons words echo, “an imaginary game that no one is playing.” Being concerned about a man that you spent loving for so long won’t make you lose anything. 

“You’ve lost weight,” you tell him, attempting to keep any emotion from your voice. You pull your arms around you. 

“I guess,” he shrugs, looking at himself as if he’s never seen his own body. 

“You should eat more, you look thin,” you say, then before you can add anything else, you stand up and walk away toward the banquet room. That’s where the rehearsal dinner will be, and that’s where they can find you if they need you. You can feel Taehyung staring at you as you go. 

Everyone is so enamored with the bride and groom that you scrape by without being noticed much. You fill a plate that you poke with your fork, and smile when it’s appropriate. You look happy whenever Fi starts talking to you about anything, and you smile and participate in pictures. 

You’re sat next to Taehyung for most of the dinner, but thanks to the chaos of the event with so many conversations going and attention on Fi and Joon, you don’t have to interact with him much. 

“These noodles are fucking good,” he says as he slurps some into his mouth. 

“Here, take mine, I’m full,” you use the back of your hand to scoot the bowl over to his area. 

“Thank you,” he says politely, though you can feel his eyes boring into you as if to ask ‘why are you being nice to me?’ 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Wine sir?” a waiter asks Taehyung and gestures to his empty glass that’s remained as such the entire time you’ve been eating. 

“No, some more water would be nice though, thanks,” he says and the waiter nods and trots off. 

“It’s good, not too sweet,” you tell him, picking up your own glass and taking a sip. This is your attempt at a conversation, the sweetness of wine. 

“I don’t drink anymore,” he says in a way that makes you feel like you shouldn’t ask why. Something in your stomach twists and you think you can probably guess. 

He was probably drunk, when it happened, when he decided to bed somebody else. It puts a sour taste in your mouth as you swish the wine around. You force it down your throat and set the glass back down on the table, wiping your mouth with a napkin and standing up. 

“I’m going to go lay down, not feeling good,” you tell Fi, and you can see in the way that she looks at you she knows you’re lying. You don’t care. The rehearsal went fine. No one cried. No one yelled. You’re still on her fucking team, but dinners over, and you don’t have to do this anymore, at least until tomorrow afternoon. 

As you’re heading out you notice the table where they’re keeping the bottles of wine and champagne being served. With a quick look around to make sure no one’s watching you pluck a bottle off the table, they can consider it your fee for having to make a speech in front of a crowd tomorrow. Small price to pay for gushing about love and happily ever afters when you’d rather eat dirt. 

~~~~~~~~

The hotel pool closes at 10PM, and it’s well after midnight as you sit on the edge, skirt bunched up around your thighs, legs dangling in the water. 

Fi had come to check on you, and you’d continued the charade of a headache, explaining that you’d taken something and you’d see her in the morning to help her get ready for her big day. She was apprehensive, but left you alone. 

Too overwhelmed by the silence of your room, you decided to take your stolen booze and sit by the empty pool. The sound of the nearby ocean should be enough to drown out your thoughts. 

Except it wasn’t. 

You were still thinking about everything Namjoon had said. You were still thinking about what you wanted to say to Tae. And each time you took a sip of wine, you were thinking about him hovering over his coworker, the scent of alcohol on his breath, as he pushed into her and made her feel good the way he did with you. You felt like vomiting, but kept drinking anyway, call it self-flagellation. A punishment for being a bitter hag who can’t let anything go. 

When the pool gate creaks open, you turn, expecting to explain to a staff member that you were just about to leave. It’s not an employee though. It’s Taehyung. 

Your gut reaction is to tell him to fuck off, but you stop yourself. He seems to expect it, in the cautious way he approaches, he looks as if you’re about to send him away any second. Instead you turn back to the water, watching the reflection of hotel windows ripple on the waters surface as he rolls his pants up and sits next to you. 

“It’s warm,” he says after several moments, when it’s clear you’re not going to snap him in half. 

Silence. You sit next to one another for what feels like forever, though only about ten minutes probably pass. You take languid sips from the bottle occasionally, but you don’t look at him or offer any words. You’re just procrastinating, sitting stagnant as you’ve been doing for two years.

“Go ahead,” you finally say. 

“What?” he croaks, seemingly shocked that you’ve spoken at all.

“I want to know,” you take a big gulp from the bottle, “I want to know why you did it.” 

He takes a long time to answer and you wonder why. After two years, after all the five thousand word essays he tried to send you, shouldn’t he have all this outlined already? 

“The entire PR department was at that conference,” he starts. You remember. He’d gone to a week-long conference with the other people in his department, which you’d not really given much thought to, but that’s where it happened. While he was away. 

“The group had never been out together, in all the years we’d worked with each other, so on the last night we decided to go out drinking at some bar. It was all just good fun, until it wasn’t,” he says darkly and you waiver, but let him continue. 

“We got so drunk, God I was wasted,” he says with a shake of his head, “the kind of drunk where anything sounds like a good idea. Someone could suggest jumping off a bridge and you’d be like ‘fuck yeah, that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard’ because you’re just so out of your mind. Eventually we all had to go back to the hotel we were staying at, but I honestly can’t remember if it was because one of us suggested it, or because the bar staff wanted us out, but somehow I ended up in an Uber with Lia.” 

Lia. You’d met her several times at his office Christmas parties, and you knew she was the one he’d fucked without ever having to say her name. You choke down the whimper that wants to escape and wipe your tears away with the back of your hand. 

“She randomly admitted to me that I was her work crush, but I could barely comprehend what she was saying. The car was spinning. I kept looking out the window, but then she’d start talking again. She was telling me that her marriage was ending and she was depressed. She felt alone and hopeless - it was all so heavy - and then she started touching my leg, and scooting closer-,”

“Okay stop, stop,” you suck in a ragged breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I thought maybe being transparent was best, but the whole truth - without the gory details - is that there was no reason ___. I was drunk. She was drunk. I think I felt bad for her, but I don’t remember feeling anything. I don’t remember what we said, I don’t remember how it felt,” he drags a hand down his face, “I threw it away for nothing. I ruined us, everything we built, everything I loved, everything I wanted for absolutely fucking nothing.” 

You look away from him and hide your face so you can sob quietly. He places his hand on top of yours, and you stiffen, but don’t pull it away. 

“Please say something,” he urges. 

“I don’t know how to feel,” you sniff, “I don’t know if I should feel better because it was nothing or feel worse because you threw me away for nothing.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats and you’re not sure how many times you’ve heard the words, a thousand - millions? Suddenly though, it doesn’t disgust you when he says he’s sorry.

“I hated you,” you say.

“I know,” he cries, “I deserve it.” 

“I hated you because it was your fault, you’re the one who ruined everything, you’re the one who should’ve suffered but instead I spent six months balled up in my apartment sobbing, screaming for you, screaming at you, I was a fucking mess Tae,” you sob. 

“I know, God I know that I hurt you so bad, and I know you may not want to hear it, and I know it was a different kind of pain but I swear to you I have been in agony for the past two years,” he sniffs. 

“I will never be the same,” you admit, to him and to yourself, “I will always feel like I’m not good enough, I will never be able to trust like I used to, and I will always wonder when someone is going to choose someone else over me and it’s all your fault!” 

“I’m so sorry ___,” he says. He scoots over close and starts to wrap his arm around you. God damn it you want him to. You want him to comfort you, you want to cry into his shoulder. You want it so bad. 

So you shove him into the pool, naturally. 

You watch him flail for a few seconds before he realizes the water is only waist deep, then he stands up, flinging his wet mop of hair from his face and sputtering water. 

“Are you kidding?” he squeaks, he looks like a drowned mouse. 

The look of utter shock on his face has you biting down hard on your lips trying to hold it together, but it comes out anyway. 

You laugh. You laugh so hard you can’t breathe, so hard that you snort, so hard that you feel like your chest is going to burst but you can’t stop. 

“Sorry, I gave in to my intrusive thoughts,” you tell him between gasps of air. 

“Intrusive…fuck,” he mutters, trying poorly to pull himself back onto the edge of the pool. You use your foot to shove him back in. 

“___!” he scream-laughs. 

“I couldn’t stop myself,” you shrug, still giggling. 

“Yeah?” he gives you a look as he pushes his wet hair out of his face. 

“No…” you warn, but before you can even get the whole word out he drags you in by your arms. 

“Bastard!” you squeal, wiping the water from your eyes. 

“Sorry, I gave into my intrusive thoughts,” he parrots and then splashes you for good measure. 

You shove him backward and he disappears under the waters surface, until you feel him grab you by the ankles. He pulls hard and you lose your footing, joining him under the water. You fight the sting of chlorine as you open your eyes, finding your target, and you reach out and pinch one of his nipples beneath his ruined sweater before pushing off the bottom to get air. 

“Oh that does it!” he jeers, dramatically rubbing his chest and leaping over to where you try to scramble out of the pool. He grabs you by the waist and drags you back down, pinning your arms with one of his and using his other hand to tickle you. 

“Stop! Please stop!” you plead between fits of laughter. 

You manage to loosen his grip and twist yourself until your chest is pressed against his. Suddenly playtime is over, and it’s just you looking up at him, his arms still around you, unrelenting. 

“What are we doing right now?” he whispers, pushing a wet piece of your hair off your cheek. 

“I think I’m forgiving you,” you say, and you rest your forehead against his chest as he holds you tighter. It feels so good that you continue to stand there, despite the absurdity of standing in a pool fully clothed. 

“This pool is closed, and those clothes are not appropriate swim attire to be wearing in the facilities,” a stern voice intrudes and you both spin around to see a very annoyed looking employee drumming her fingers on the top of the fence. 

“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping towards the pool stairs. 

“We were just going, we’re very sorry,” Taehyung echoes as he follows suit. 

“Yes, well, the pool rules are posted right here,” she taps a sign hanging on the fence aggressively, “for future reference. Have a good evening,” she grumbles, though she looks like she hopes the two of you have anything but. 

Taehyung grabs a few towels off a nearby caddy and you pour out the wine, then toss the bottle into a waste basket. 

Only a few people stare as the two of you walk towards the elevators, clothes drenched, but then again, there’s only a few people around at this hour anyway. You both grin like cheshire cats as the doors shut in front of you. 

Without giving it much thought, you reach over and lace your fingers into his, and when the elevator opens on the floor that’s been rented for the wedding, you lead him out and down the hallway to your room. 

“Wait,” he stops short, though he doesn’t let go of your hand as you slide the card into the door lock. 

“What?” 

“Are you sure you want me in there? I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning and have you regret all of this,” he says, holding your hand to his chest. 

“I’m not going to, at least that’s not my plan,” you assure him as you cross the threshold - though if you’re being completely honest, you have no plan. You have no idea what you’re doing, or if it’s a good idea or a bad idea. 

“Then… what?” he wonders, looking like if he breathes the wrong way or says one wrong word you’ll smite him. 

“Take your wet clothes off and just lay down with me,” you shrug. 

“You want me to get naked, then get in your bed?” to say he looks stunned is an understatement. 

“Yes, if it will make you less uncomfortable I’ll sleep naked too,” you tell him with a shrug, pulling your skirt off. 

His eyes darken just a bit, “Is this some kind of torture? You want me to press my body against yours and try not to touch you?” he laughs, but his mouth sounds dry as a desert. 

“It’s not meant to be a punishment, but yes, that’s what I want. I want to lay here with you, in a very vulnerable state, because I want to know what it feels like. I want to know if it makes my skin crawl or if it makes me want you to fuck me and hold me against you the rest of the night. I’m testing the water, so to speak,” you say. You continue peeling wet layers of clothes off until you’re completely nude, then you pull down the sheets and get in. 

Taehyung stands there for about three seconds before he starts fighting his wet clothes off. You watch the lean muscles of his stomach ripple as he tugs the, very expensive looking, ruined cashmere off, and you lock eyes with him as he pushes his jeans and boxers off in one go. 

He’s hard, which isn’t very surprising, not that you’re just so incredibly irresistible that he can’t help it, but you understand what he’s going through because you are too. You’re wet, you can feel the slickness with every movement of your lower body. It’s been two years. You weren’t completely chaste in that time, though it was never anything that lasted more than a weekend, and the number of encounters were very few. You also aren’t sure if he was being honest about his two year celibacy streak, you’re not ready to accept that or not, but if it is true he’ll probably combust. You only take a tiny bit of inappropriate satisfaction from that. 

When he crawls in as well the two of you just lay on your backs, a whole other person could fit in the space between you, and you stay like that for a little while. 

“Skin crawling yet?” he asks timidly. 

“Not yet,” you sigh, and turn the lamp off, then roll over next to him, draping your bare thighs across his. You’re a little embarrassed that your slick slides against his leg. 

“Jesus christ,” he groans in a whisper as your hand slides up to find purchase on his chest, his arm coming around to pull you in close. 

“What about now?” he asks in a strain. 

“Nope. Not yet.” 

You’re being honest. It doesn’t make you sick, or angry, and it doesn’t make you feel like you’ve lost. There is no imaginary game. No imaginary score. Not anymore, and you breathe the first easy breath you’ve taken in two years. 

You take his hand that rests on top of yours and pull it down your torso, his fingertips brush over one of your nipples and your lips part against his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, and you continue pulling his hand lower and lower until his fingers rest above your cunt. 

“What do you want?” he asks, twisting over so you’re more under him than beside him. His fingers play idly in your soft tuft of hair, but he doesn’t try dipping them any lower. 

You take a deep breath, your pussy aching, “I think you owe me one, wouldn’t you say?” 

He nods, licking his lips, “I’d say I owe you a lot more than one, tell me, I’ll give you anything you want. Just tell me,” he urges you, his lips ghosting the side of your face. 

“I want you to touch me, and then I want you to go down on me like your fucking life depends on it,” you take his mouth with yours, sliding your fingers into his still damp hair to anchor him. 

You both let out involuntary moans when his fingers come in contact with your slit. He drags the wetness up from your entrance to your clit, circling around in a way that has you pushing back, spreading your thighs further for him. 

He toys with you as you kiss him, tongues teasing, teeth bumping, but his fingers persist. Then he pushes one in, followed by another and you groan. 

“Tae,” your voice is soft and pleading, and he delivers, thrusting his fingers into you hard and deep, the way you love. The way he knows you love. He pauses every so often to work your clit, and each time you have to hold yourself back, have to control your body so you don’t cum so soon, so you can enjoy it longer. 

“Does it feel good?” his voice is deep and scratchy in your ear and you nod, eyes closed, hips moving in time with his fingers, “Are you close?” 

You can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes, “Yes. So fucking close, fuck,” you curse as his fingers go back to your clit, this might be it, but he slows down. 

“Do you want me to finish you like this, or do you want me to eat you out? Because I really, really want to eat you out,” he smiles, taking your ear between his teeth gently. 

“Tongue,” you manage, “Definitely tongue but please keep using your fingers for the love of God.” 

“Absolutely,” he kisses you deeply once more before disappearing under the sheets. 

“Oh my god.” 

When his tongue drags up your slit, your back arches so far off the bed you’re pretty sure you’ll feel it tomorrow. Your mouth drops open as he fights your hips back down on the bed, tongue snaking and sliding over every centimeter of you. When you finally manage to settle down, he pushes his fingers back into you, lips wrapped around your sensitive bud in a gentle suck. 

Your eyes water at the sensation as you gasp and shake, then he switches to soft, wide licks and it finishes you. 

“Ohfuckohfuck,” your hands land on the sides of his head and you hold him in position as you cum, contracting rhythmically around his fingers, still buried inside you. 

When he resurfaces you immediately drag his wet mouth onto yours and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“More,” you tell him, reaching between your bodies to guide his cock to you. 

“I won’t last long enough for you to go again,” he warns. 

You shake your head, “I don’t care, just keep going, please,” you beg and it sounds so desperate but you don’t care anymore. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, and he pushes into your still throbbing cunt. “Oh fuck.” 

It feels like forever before he starts moving, thrusting in and pulling out agonizingly slow. You meet him with every push, grinding into him, connecting yourselves. 

“I can’t,” he whines, “I can’t hold it.” 

“Then don’t,” you tell him, dragging your nails down his back. 

“Shit,” he freezes on a particularly deep thrust and you feel him twitch, spilling himself inside. 

He collapses beside you, damp from sweat and breathless. He’s beautiful.

You scoot over and wrap yourself around him, like before, and he pulls you in, kissing the side of your head. 

“I missed you too,” you whisper, then close your eyes and let yourself rest against his chest. 

~~~~~~~~

You wake up to frantic knocking on your hotel door. 

“___! Hi, it’s me, Fi, I’m getting married today, in case you forgot - just mentioning it because you and I have an 8:30 appointment for massages and it is now,” a brief pause, “8:27 and I’ve not heard from you!” 

“Shit!” you scramble out of bed, grabbing the blanket as you go to wrap it around you.

“Ahh!” Taehyung whines, “Cold!” 

You open the door and greet her. 

“Oh my God,” she says, looking at your naked, disheveled state wrapped up in a hotel duvet. 

“Uhhhh…” 

“I’m cold!” Taehyung shouts from the darkness of the hotel room and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for her reaction. 

“Oh my GOD,” she screams. 

“I’ll meet you at the spa, I swear, just…go…just…I’m so happy and this is your special day…but go,” you stumble over the words. 

“I…” she points to the hall, “I’ll go. Meet me down there,” she says then jerks you close, “and be prepared to tell me fucking everything.” 

You pad back into the room, flipping on the light switch. Taehyung sits up and rubs his eyes. 

“Hi.” 

You slide into your bra and grab a shirt, “Hi,” you say back. “You have to go.” 

“Do I have to go because you’ve got somewhere to be? Or do I have to go because I make you nauseous and you don’t want to look at me anymore?” 

You press your lips together trying not to laugh, “You have to go because my best friend and your brother are getting married today, and we both have places we need to be - with them. After everything is over, we can figure all this out,” you say pointing between the two of you. 

“Promise?” 

“I swear.” 

He nods, then gets up grabbing his discarded clothes from the night before. 

“This is still wet,” he frowns, showing you his sweater. 

“Sorry about your fancy sweater,” you laugh. 

You’re not entirely sure what to say or do, so you stand on your toes and kiss his cheek. 

“I’ll see you later,” you tell him. 

He nods, “Later.” 

~~~~~~~~

When you check in at the spas front desk they send you to the waiting area, where Fi awaits you, looking very smug. 

“Don’t,” you tell her, taking the seat next to her. 

“Don’t what?” she says innocently, “Don’t bring up the fact that I just caught you red handed from spending the night with my brother-in-law?” 

“Technically he won’t be your brother-in-law until after 1 o’clock,” you point out. 

“Deflecting. Interesting. What does that mean I wonder?” she raises a brow. 

“Weren’t you and Namjoon both hounding me, telling me I needed to talk to him?” you ask. 

“Talk?” she snorts, “Boy, when you have a talk you sure go all out.” 

“We did talk!” you defend, “Before - we had a conversation at the pool.” 

“How did that go?” 

You think about it for a second and sigh, “Well, it definitely made me sad. It reminded me of everything I felt in those months after everything. I ugly cried clutching a bottle of wine,” you say with a half laugh. 

“I can tell, your eyes are grotesque - no offense - we’ll have to fix that for the photography later, but go on,” she compels. 

“So yeah, I cried, I told him how much I’d hated him and how miserable I’d been, he apologized for like the trillionth time and I don’t know, I felt different all of a sudden, I actually believed him. So I pushed him in the pool and ruined his cashmere,” you explain. 

“The cable knit Celine?” she gasps. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, walking over to the coffee bar, praying it’s strong. 

“Sorry,” she says, “but that shit is easily more than two G’s. But yes, we’re talking about you, sorry. What made it feel different? And why did you push a grown man in cashmere into a pool?” 

“Something Namjoon said, the first night Taehyung was here after the bathroom incident, he kind of put things in perspective for me,” you tell her. 

She smiles dreamily, “Yeah, he kind of has a way of doing that huh? What was it he said?” 

“Imaginary games,” you say. 

“I don’t follow?” 

“Would you say I’m a forgiving person? That I handle offenses well?” 

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Fi says resolutely. 

“Agreed. I get in my head and keep score. If they hurt me, I have to hurt them worse and if I can’t, then I act like letting it go is losing, so I hang on to it and stay angry because in my sick little toxic mind, that means I’m still winning,” you sit back down and slurp the coffee. 

“Tired of winning now?” she says softly, taking your hand in hers with a squeeze. 

“Yes,” you sigh, lay your head on her shoulder, “I’m tired of winning now.” 

“Good.” 

~~~~~~~~~

Fi was stunning. No, more than that - she was traffic stopping, literally. In her custom wedding gown, guests and even strangers literally stopped in their tracks to stare at her. You cried all day at how beautiful and happy she looked. She glowed. You only looked away from her once really, to see Namjoons reaction when she cornered the aisle and came into view - worth it. 

At the reception Fi leans over to you, “I think someone has been itching to get you alone all day,” she whispers, nodding over to Taehyung who’s in the middle of a conversation with a cousin, but you see him side eyeing you every couple of seconds. 

“I’m your maid of honor Fi, it’s my job to be in your ass all day in case you need me,” you tell her, resisting the urge to run to him. 

“Okay. I appreciate that and everything, but I’m letting you go. Your job is complete, you married me off. Now go,” she nudges you out of your seat. 

You walk over to him as the cousin disappears back into the throng of people and he turns to you. 

“Dance with me?” he asks, and you nod as he takes your waist on the floor. 

You sway back and forth to some romantic jazzy number, resting your head on his shoulder, drinking in his scent and his warmth. You smile. 

“So what happens now?” he whispers, “What happens when we leave this paradise and have to go back to the dreary, gray city?” 

You look up at him, and he kisses you gently on the lips. 

“I think…” 

“Yes?” 

You tilt your head and smile, “I think we should start meal planning.” 

“Meal planning…” he looks perplexed, but then recognition reaches his eyes and his face softens. “Meal planning.” 

“Yes. It’s more cost effective, and it’ll be easier to eat healthy if we only buy what we plan for.” 

“Sounds like a good plan,” he grins, then pulls your head back onto his shoulder and the two of you continue dancing, even when the music changes to a more upbeat song, you just sway back and forth, pressed together tightly to make up for the distance you held for too long.

#bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #Kim Taehyung #romance #oneshot #BTS smut #Taehyung smut #18+ only #V fanfiction #bangtan #taehyung x reader #Taehyung girlfriend

[danieyells]

hai again :3 idk if youve already done him but can you do tohmas voicelines? he is sooo interesting i, once again, want to study him

Tohma is one of the I think two characters I haven't been asked to do yet!! I think he wouldn't appreciate you studying him either, anon, but I think he'd be willing to let you studying him becuase he didn't think you could actually succeed. . .but if you did, he'd have other uses for you lol

ANYWAY VOICELINES his are. Pretty expected in their nature lol he's like ritsu in that you will never see this man sweat.

Default:

"Well, hello there—I've been expecting you. May I ask for your assistance with something?"

"What do you mean? I lend a sympathetic ear to those in need—that's all."

"Honestly. This academy has far more than its fair share of loose cannons, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm no more than a servant. Frostheim is ruled by a king, you see."

"I hope you'll join us for a party some time."

"No need to be nervous. I've nothing but the noblest of intentions."

normal people don't need to say things like this. you see why i feel like it's too obvious that he's shady! he comes out the gate with this shit!

You've Got Mail:

"Seems you have some mail. There could be some helpful information in there."

Affinity 1:

"An orderly life and a well-managed schedule are the key to keeping one's self fit and healthy."

Affinity 2:

"How delightful... It seems our king's peaceful slumber has yet to be disturbed."

of note: he looks irritated saying this. He'd love to slam Jin's door open and yell WAKE THE FUCK UP BITCH

Affinity 3:

"Is that everything? I'm afraid there are several matters I must attend to."

Affinity 4:

"Please excuse me. There's a small matter I must attend to. No, it's nothing serious. Of course I'm being honest—whatever do you mean?"

yeah your affinity is too low for me to think you're honest. LET US IN.

Affinity 5:

"Look at you, you're trembling. You must have had quite a frightening encounter. You poor thing."

this can happen between 8pm and 5am, so maybe some anomaly was lurking in the darkness and scared you?

Affinity 6:

"Providing this level of assistance goes without saying. Only once you can do so without instruction can you call yourself qualified."

Affinity 7:

"So this is where you've been idling your time away. Our captain is waiting for you."

stop trying to hide you are a servant and your king demands your services.

Affinity 8:

"Honestly. If he'd just take action, everything would be resolved instantaneously."

(In case there's any doubt, "he" is specifically referring to Jin--in Japanese he says "Dorm Leader". I wonder if this relates to the spy situation or the Institute. . .or something else entirely--)

Affinity 9:

"This conversation never happened. Understand?"

Either he needs someone to believe he wasn't here or he told you something ~Secret~

Affinity 10:

"An appropriate amount of sleep is essential to maintaining your physical and mental health, you know."

Affinity 11:

"Honestly. The second years have been making quite the racket this morning."

KAITO AND LUCA ARE HAVING FUN LET THEM HAVE FUN

Affinity 12:

"I tend to eat lightly at lunch time. Would you like some? Don't worry—I assure you, it's not poisoned."

WHO SAYS THAT IF IT ISN'T POISONED. IT'S YOUR FOOD WE KNOW YOU WEREN'T POISONING YOURSELF. . .PROBABLY. . .COULD BE MICRODOSING POISON TO YOURSELF FOR IMMUNITY REASONS.

Affinity 13:

"Seems you've become involved in a difficult situation. How do I know? I just happened to overhear, that's all."

WHICH DIFFICULT SITUATION. THERE ARE SEVERAL. IT FEELS LIKE THERE ARE MORE EVERY DAY.

Affinity 14:

"It appears we're in for another full day."

Affinity 15:

"Good morning. Would you like to start the day with a cup of tea?"

Affinity 16:

"How about a game of chess to aid with digestion? I'm a patient teacher. I can show you how to win—against opponents other than myself, of course."

how would that help with. . .don't you usually have to exercise for. . .well I'm glad he's a patient teacher even if he won't teach you to beat him lol good strategy, make you a powerful ally.

Affinity 17:

"Good health is the greatest treasure. You shouldn't push yourself too hard. Good night—I'll finish up here."

He wants you to take care of yourself. . .so he'll do the hard work when it's time for you to rest. He wouldn't want something bad to happen to you because you were unwell.

Affinity 18:

"I always achieve my goals—using any means necessary. That goes without saying, don't you think?"

why restrict your means if you truly wish to fulfill your goal? Others use you for their means, so why not do the same yourself? If your ends are truly good perhaps the means aught not to matter so much.

Affinity 19:

"Please don't overexert yourself. There are many people here who need you."

that may sound like a reason to overexert yourself, but if you overdo it you won't be able to help anybody. You have to help yourself if you want to help anybody else. There's no shame in that.

Affinity 20:

"Take care not to overdo it today. You may insist you're fine—perhaps you even believe it—but I can tell at a glance that you're fatigued."

he's worried about you. Maybe it doesn't sound that way, but he wants to make sure you're well. He can tell you're wearing down before you can. He has an eye for others, that's all. Also maybe it's just me but he mentions health and wellness so much I can't help but wonder if he's had some sort of health problem in the past, or maybe Jin or someone else he knows and cares for. Also, hilarious that speaks to highly of caring for one's health when he smokes.

Affinity 21:

"Inexperience is not a crime. The important thing is choosing not to remain ignorant when you don't know something."

knowledge is in fact power

Affinity 22:

"Errant and Fuji lack polish, but they've got potential. They're sincere, and that's what counts."

he really looks at them and says "those're my boys. my loud annoying sons."

Affinity 23:

"Welcome to high society. That outfit suits you well. With that poise, you'll have no trouble fitting in here."

he dressed you up and brought you to a party because he likes and trusts you and wants to be seen with you. . .get used to the high life, he'd like to keep you in it as long as possible.

Affinity 24:

"Forgetting about everything I've got to do and be, just for a night every once in a while... It's not a bad feeling."

no titles, no images, no fronts, and no lies. no manipulation. no doing somebody else's job--no doing any job. Just. . .time for himself. And, presumably, someone he loves very much. I think he's earned that kind of break. Does this sound like you're about to fuck to anybody else--

Affinity 25(max):

"In times of difficulty, I hope you'll turn to those around you for help. I will be there to keep you safe."

Don't be like him and take so much upon yourself. . .rely on others. Ask for help! Find your people. Support each other. Don't try and go at it alone. It's okay to be united with your community. He is one of your people too, of course. Rely on him and he will keep you from harm. He's quite sweet, isn't he?

Spring:

"That was quite the yawn. No need to apologize. Who wouldn't want to take a nap in this pleasant spring weather?"

"I once heard a poem that went, "In spring, one sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn." I'm sorry to inform you dawn must come eventually, Captain."

translation: 'WAKE THE FUCK UP JIN. IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY BITCH.'

"With every advent of spring comes a wealth of gleaming new foliage and a pleasant breeze. I still find it moving each year."

reminds me of that if you ask Tohma what his hobbies are in his character story chat he says he likes being out in nature and taking walks. . .which also reminds me that Alan likes camping. I bet they used to go camping together all the time.

"The blossoms of spring fall so quickly. Though beautiful, there is something almost brutal in their brevity."

Summer:

"Ha ha. My apologies. Your face is so flushed I couldn't help myself."

'lol you're so sweaty you look like a wet rat'

"Sweltering days like this make me sincerely grateful to be in Frostheim."

i wonder how hot it was in the vagastrom garage in the summer. probably sucked ass in there. and smelt like big sweaty dudes.

"Would you care to enjoy the evening cool here with me?"

"If the heat becomes to much for you, please feel free to come visit us in Frostheim any time."

inviting them to frostheim late at night? how scandalous. . . .

Autumn:

"Pleasant days like this make me want to go on a trip somewhere far away."

i mean if anyone could get away with it it's definitely you. darkwick trusts you enough.

"Tea enjoyed while appreciating the colors of the fall leaves has a unique charm."

"The early dusks in the fall can take one by surprise. Be sure to stay alert when walking in the dark."

"There is nothing better than a book to while away the long fall nights. My eyes are rather tired though... Perhaps some exercise will be a good change of pace."

Winter:

"I thought Frostheim had gotten me used to cold weather, but I suppose this is what they mean when they say "chilled to the bone.""

my god he's admitting weakness. someone call the papers.

"Even the cold weather doesn't seem to deter the second years from gallivanting about... Rather charming, isn't it? In the way barnyard animals are."

my noisy sons who play in the snow like puppies

"I'll take my leave earlier this evening. The nights are getting colder, after all. And there's a small matter I'd like to look into."

"Haven't you had your fill of winter scenery after frequenting Frostheim? Ha ha. You truly are a strange one."

His birthday:

"Thank you for putting together such a wonderful celebration for me. Oh? You've even gotten me a gift..."

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday. Perhaps it was a little presumptuous of me, but I've prepared a gift for you... Come now. There's no need to be so formal."

New Years:

"Happy New Year, {PC}. I expect you will help bring Frostheim to even greater heights this year."

why? are they being promoted to fuckin captain of frostheim or something now? tf?

Valentine's Day:

"Oh my, is this for me? How kind of you. I very much look forward to finding out what's inside."

White Day:

"I ordered you these sweets from a famous confectionery in Asakusa. Hopefully they suit your tastes."

April Fool's Day:

"What I wouldn't give to knock that bastard Jin's head off... Oh come now, what's that face? I'm joking, of course."

Halloween:

"Trick or treat. Oh? So you prefer tricks... Interesting."

what do you think he's dressed as? Oh no you didn't have any treats for him. . .be worried about what's coming i guess

Christmas:

"Merry Christmas. We'll be holding a party in Frostheim later. Would you care to join us?"

Idle:

"Ignoring me, are you? You've certainly got guts."

"If something is concerning you, perhaps I could lend an ear. There may be something I can do to help."

Absent:

"I've no interest in hearing your excuses. I suppose I'll need to be stricter with you going forward—I hope you've come prepared."

much like Jin. . .he believes you'll need to be retrained. Bad servant. Time to be reminded of your place.

IT FEELS LIKE HIS ARE VERY LOW KEY. He's secretive about his interests and so very busy as Jin's servant, it feels like they don't share much about him. . .hopefully we'll get more study opportunities, anon. I wonder if this makes his intentions seem more or less clear/honest for some? It could really go either way lol. WHAT REALLY GETS ME IS THE "just one night to not have to think about who i am and what i have to do is nice" ONE TBH. . .like he really works so hard trying to play every side for the outcome he wants. he works so hard keeping frostheim in order. no real hints to what his goals are, just that he acknowledges that he will do whatever it takes to reach them. Makes you wonder, but we probably won't learn anything for a long while haha

#tohma ishibashi #tokyo debunker spoilers #tokyo debunker #danie yells at tokyo debunker #danie yells with anons #danie yells answers #ONLY ONE MORE CHARACTER TO GO #until they put in ed and lyc anyway

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Mother of America (Soldier Boy/Homelander)

Description: Soldier Boy and Y/N have a son that they weren’t aware of.

Word Count: 1,922k

Request:

homelander... meeting his genetic mother 🛐🛐🛐

she's in the same situation of Soldier Boy on her part her reproductive eggs got harvested and used to create him without her knowing when she got taken by Vought

+ for ryan to meet her

Author’s note: I changed it up a bit and added some stuff. This is a little different than in the show.

Soldier Boy was a hot Supe that saved America from time to time. He had every lady and some men wanting him and his dick. He wanted a lot of young hot ladies for himself. But there was one that stood out to him. One that was right in front of him this whole time. Mother of America or as he called her Y/N. She was just as hot as him and even a lot of guys or girls wanted her as well.

She had her eyes on one man and one man only. Soldier Boy or as she called him Ben. The two were in love as far as love could go. They fought crime together and then after had the hottest sex together. They were a perfect pair. After a year of officially dating Ben asked her to marry him and she said yes. The wedding was simple, nothing too crazy and not a lot of people. It wasn’t a secret by any means but they were different from most people. They were Supes and they were famous. Y/N couldn’t get pregnant. It was damn near impossible for a Supe to get pregnant.

So Vought took her eggs with the hopes of having a natural born Supe one day. When Ben almost got killed Y/N was heartbroken and even more when she saw the helicopter take him away. That was the last time she saw him. She still wore the ring and acted as if she was still married. Technically she was. Along with Ben she aged like fine wine and looked perfect. She hit out from Vought and managed to hide for years, that was until Soldier Boy was back and went looking for her. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she got the knock on her door and there stood her husband. He gave her a smile, the smile that she missed so much. Without thinking she hugged him so tight not caring about the other people at her door with him. He hugged her back and chuckled, “I missed you baby.” He said.

Oh his voice, it still sounded the same and sounded so sexy. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?” She asked in tears. “I looked all over for ya baby. You hid really well.” He told her and pulled back to wipe her tears. “I have some news. I just wish that we could have reconnected before the news broke.” He tells her and he pulls away. She looked at him confused as to what the news could be and why he sounded sad. “This here is Billy. Billy Butcher.” “Oi luv.” She nodded and gave him a small smile. “Billy here has one mission and that is to kill Homelander.” She knew that name, he was the face of Vought. “He’s a cunt.” Billy said, almost making Y/N laugh.

“What has he done to you?” She asked. “That’s a story for another time.” Billy tells her. “We need your help babe.” Ben tells her, “With what?” “We need to kill him.” “Homelander?” She asked. Both men nodded. “He needs to be put down like a dog.” Ben said. Y/N looked at both men and sighed. “That’s the news?” She asked. By the look on her husband’s face she knew it wasn’t. “Homelander is…well he’s our son.” Y/N felt her heart stop at his words. She looks towards Billy for confirmation and he nods. “What?” “I know it’s crazy.” “No Ben, it's not possible.” She said. “Remember the eggs they froze for you and the sperm they took from me?” She did remember that but it couldn’t be… “They made him with our…” “Yes.” Ben said. She looked at the other man who had something against Homelander and for what she wasn’t sure. “He has a son himself. Ryan, whose mother was my wife.” Billy told her.

“Your wife cheated on you with Homelander?” She asked, “Not exactly.” She covered her mouth with her hand as she realized what he meant. She looked towards her husband. “Well babe I guess we gotta kill our offspring.” 

The two sat in Y/N’s hot tub naked with a glass of wine. “So our only child is a monster.” she said and took a big sip of her wine. Ben nodded and pulled her closer, “Yeah.” The yeah was filled with disappointment. “He’s a pussy too. No real man cries and acts like he does.” Y/N rolled her eyes not missing that side of her husband. “Ben seriously?” She asked. He chuckled and nodded, “Yeah and he thinks he’s the new me.” She chuckles and cups his face, “Nobody is ever going to be you.” She whispers and kisses him. He sets down his wine glass and kisses her back.

The kiss felt like it did years ago. Great. “You know I haven’t had sex with anyone since you were taken from me.” She says against his lips. He smiles and moves so he is in between her legs. “Are you saying that I should fuck you right here in this hot tub?” He asked and she laughed. She shrugged and bit his lip, “I mean if that’s what you want.” “Oh hunny I plan on fucking you in every spot I can in this house.” He tells her, making her laugh. 

Her and Ben walked into the house of the twins that hosted what they created all those years ago. Herogasm. Y/N smiled at the memories as she saw all types of Supes fucking. “You stay here, I got business to take care of you.” Ben told her as he walked away. She didn’t question it knowing it was for a good cause. She walked around the house amazed by what was happening. She saw her husband and the TNT twins begging for their lives. “TNT Detonate!” They said and the place exploded.

Y/N flew up watching it all happen. She watched the place burn into flames and many dead. She flew back down and saw Ben walking with Billy. She flew down towards him, “Babe?” Both men looked up as she flew down beside them. “What the hell is going on?” She asked. “A lot of people are liars, but right now we gotta deal with Homelander.” He told her. She hoped he would explain everything to her because she was very confused. “William Butcher, Soldier Boy and Mother of America.” Y/N’s jaw dropped as she saw her son. For the first time she sees him she can’t stop thinking about how that’s her son. “We had a deal. That we would fight to the death.” “Deal’s off.” Billy said to him as they all came face to face.

“You were my hero growing up. I watched all your movies hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me.” Y/N snorted at the last part making Homelander look over at her. “Buddy, you think you look strong? You’re wearing a cape. You’re just a cheap fucking knock off.” He tells him. “Oh no no no. I’m the upgrade.” He said with a smirk. “Upgrade? Bitch you wish.” Y/N laughed at him. He turns to her but before he could say or do anything Ben attacks him. Y/N and Billy watch for a second but Y/N realized that Homelander was a lot stronger than she thought. She watched in horror as Ben was being choked out by him.

She went to tackle him but Billy lasered beem him. Homelander looked over at the man in shock, “What have you done?” “Scorched Earth.” Billy said. Y/N tackled Homelander to the ground and they all began to fight. Some naked guy who Y/N later learned was named Hughie started helping out. She could tell Ben wanted to kill their son and she couldn’t blame him. Homelander ended up blasting away as they all held him down. “We should have ended him right there.” She said to them. 

“I can tell you're hesitant on killing him.” Ben said to her as they got in bed. She chuckled, “I mean the only child we got is a monster but yet I feel like it’s our fault.” “Babe he’s a test subject for vault not really our child.” She looked at him, “But he is our child. My egg and your sperm.” She said. “We have to do what's best no matter how hard it may be.” He tells her. He was right. But a part of her couldn’t bear to be the one to do it. 

“Where’s Black Noir?” Y/N asked, knowing that he was in the seven. “I killed him.” She felt her heart break. “Why?” Ben asked. Homelander looked at the two of them, “Because he didn’t tell me about you two.” Y/N and Ben looked at each other. “Homelander this isn’t right.” She tells him. He holds up his hands, “I’m alone. I just want to talk. I know what it’s like to have your team betray you. But with the three of us together we could be unstoppable. Nobody would stand a chance.” “Unless we kill each other first.” Ben said. “That’s true but why? Because he says so. He’s a human. He’s nothing.” “Don’t listen to that twat he’s not your kid.”

“Yes I am. I am your guy’s blood. That’s all that matters.” A kid maybe 10 years old, he brings out. “This is your grandson Ryan. Ryan, this is your grandparents.” “Hi Grandpa. Hi Grandma.” Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes at the sight of him. She had a son and a grandson. But then she remembered what Billy told her. The kid was a product of rape. “Maybe if we raised you, we could have made you better, not some weak pussy that’s starved for attention.” “But there’s no fixing that now.” Y/N said with tears in her eyes. “Weak? I’m you. I’m the product of the two of you. Soldier Boy and Mother of America.” “Homelander it pains me to say this but you’re a disappointment.” She said to him.

Homelander looked sad by her words. His own mother thought that of him. Ryan ended up leasering Ben and started a war. “Ben, you don’t need to kill the kid, just Homelander.” She tried. “Y/N, that kid is a product of rape.” He growled at her. “Not the kid.” Billy said. “You wanna save the brat? What’s wrong with you guys?” He asked. “I made a promise.” Billy said. “Everything you wanted.. He’s right here and now you blink?” “He needs to die Billy. Homelander needs to die.” She tells the man. “You’re on his side?” Billy asked.

“I’m sorry Billy but Homelander needs to die. I’ll try to save your kid.” She said. It was hard when Ben wanted one thing and she the other. Homelander was the one that needed to die not his kid but she knew that Ben was impossible and that wouldn’t work so when his chest and they didn’t get what they wanted she knew that it would take an awful lot to kill her son. But it needed to be done. 

“I don’t hate ya.” she turned to see Billy. “But your husband. He’s an ass.” Billy said, making her laugh. “Yeah I know. But I want him dead. I don’t care that he’s my son so if you ever need me Billy. You call me and I’ll be right there.” She tells him before walking back into her house where Ben was waiting.

#the boys #the boys imagine #the boys amazon #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy #the boys season 3 #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #homelander x you #antony starr #jensen ackles

[the-summ0ning]

Sleep Token HC: being in a relationship with IV

NSFW elements, mainly fluff there might be a part two to everyone’s at this point. Or if you have any requests for HCs feel free to send me a request bc I had so many thoughts for this one and my adhd bird brain can’t keep up. Also I can proofread this 1947372 times and it still might not be as proofread as I thought lmao 🤭

The man that IV is… broody but so babygirl coded

Definitely let’s you wear his jacket, prefers you to actually

Especially since he doesn’t give overtly public displays of affection

It’s his silent claim as if everyone backstage didn’t already know who you were primarily there for. He even considers getting another one just for you to wear when you joined him on tour

Update: he gives it to you on your birthday, nearly identical to his in your size (oversized if you preferred your clothes that way). Maybe instead just wear the big read circle w the ‘iiii’ in it had your initials (solely just so he wouldn’t confuse the two articles)

Let’s you romp around in his mask before shows when the guys are putting their paint on (honestly I think all the guys would at one point or another w their S/o—ivy just gets a bigger kick out of it).

The mask would even find its way into your bedroom, his stage persona following and you ate that shit up

Being putty in his hands when he’d get rough with you when he wore it

Most definitely fucking you from behind in front of a mirror, him gripping your hair to pull your head back just to make you look at him in the mask, his blue eyes intensely staring back at you

Or when you’d be riding him, grabbing it from the night stand and slipping it on. He’d lose his mind, groaning at the sight—drilling up into you feral for more

He has tons of photos of you in his mask and jacket, Adam even taking photos of you with the other band members in the items

Poor IV listens to the guys joke you would be a much better replacement, always grumbling a fuck off as you blow him a kiss, but as he leaves playfully moping he’ll make a gesture of catching the air kiss and smashing it to his cheek or lips.

Don’t forget the few of you in just the mask and jacket he’s taken (100% has it printed in his wallet or hidden behind his phone case)

Despite his more broodier/reserved nature, he loves showing you how much he cares with acts of service and quality time

If he has to wake up earlier than you, there’s always your favorite beverage to wake up with and pastry on your bedside

After a crazy night out despite how fucked up he is, he makes sure you’re okay and settled first. He’ll make sure the makeup remover is close at hand, even helping to take it off if needed. Making sure you’ve had a snack, and have water with an aspirin before bed.

It’s even more endearing when you hardly drink, and in his most inebriated state clamoring all over your house or room trying to take care of you. Still refusing to let you fuss over him

Sometimes during shows, you get anxious or overstimulated to feel comfortable to grab from the snack table backstage. So he’ll notice and stop what he’s doing without complaint, grabbing an assortment of your favorite things without asking. Handing it to you pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of your head, “just for you, love.” Then returning to what he was doing

Always going above and beyond to plan days with just you and him. At home, on tour—doesn’t matter he loves just spending time with his favorite person

Whether it be a crazy excursions/cute dates at the city the band was stopped at or laying in bed watching movies and eating tons of food

Admittedly he loved the slower lazy days sometimes more since it felt like his lifestyle was always non stop. Especially if it just involved tagging along with you for your everyday errands and then coming home to cook dinner together

Then at the end of the night after you two had a couple of glasses of wine, he’d spend hours worshipping your body

Just something about the slow and simple routine, made him want to take his time on you. All his movements intentional with the love and care

Hips lazily thrusting into you, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “Fuck,” he would hiss as you clenched around him. “That’s right, I got you.” Pressing his forehead to yours

#sleep token x reader #iv sleep token x reader #Iv sleep token headcanons #iii sleep token x reader #ii sleep token x reader #vessel sleep token x reader

[anghraine]

I was just wondering with all the weirdness about Númenorian pregnancy and childhood how you think Denethor fits with this. Do you think he was considered a strange child? Was he especially ‘difficult’ for his parents? How does this in turn relate to Faramir?

Oh, interesting!

One of the finer points of the bizarre Elvish/peredhel/Númenórean pregnancies is that much of the difficulty derives from the nature of the child or children, rather than just being a characteristic of the parents. The idea is that there's something so remarkable about these people that biologically producing them involves significant physical and (especially) spiritual strain for both parents, though more for the mother.

(Thus, Fëanor drained Míriel's spirit more than Finwë's, while with Arwen in NOME, the emphasis is on the strain her power and uniqueness put on Celebrían despite Celebrían's relative youth. Even Melian bore the chief strain of producing Lúthien and was apparently like "never again, this is Too Much Materiality and Gender.")

So the logic is that the direct transmission of the parents' special qualities to the child(ren) is itself difficult, and in addition, the more exceptional the child, the greater the difficulty and impact of creating them on the biological parents.

And there are repeated suggestions that among Elves, peredhil, and on Númenor, this variable but always-present spiritual cost of producing such beings is so much a fact of life that they have established cultural institutions for accommodating the higher difficulty of reproduction among their peoples.

(Tangentially, I wonder about how relatively low reproduction rates coupled with extremely low child mortality rates would operate culturally on Númenor itself ... like, are there orphanages? Is there a need for them when disease and even injury are so rare, lifespans so long, medicine so sophisticated, and children so valuable?)

But anyway, Denethor! The point of all this is that I suspect this variable spiritual/physical strain on the parents, beyond the natural strain of childbirth, would have somewhat diminished by the late Third Age. But it's pretty clear from LOTR that there are still distinctive qualities being consistently transmitted to Númenórean children from their parents, and thus the strain of Númenórean reproduction would still occur.

We know, for instance, that Denethor showing signs of old age in his 60s struck Gandalf as alarming for any Gondorian Dúnadan, though particularly one from Denethor's family. But it would be unusual anyway; it's not just that Denethor is uniquely strange, though he's certainly exceptional (Gandalf: "He is not as other men of this time" / Appendices: "a proud man, tall, valiant, and more kingly than any man that had appeared in Gondor for many lives of men").

Tolkien also explains Gandalf's "whatever be his descent from father to son" remark about Denethor as indicating that Gandalf doesn't know the particulars of the Stewards' genealogy but he can tell they're Elrosian. Imrahil's Númenórean-Silvan ancestry is also extremely visible to Legolas, who similarly doesn't know their family history but can see the sort of imprint of it on Imrahil (and now I'm thinking about Legolas's struggle with sea-longing, his rapport with the distinctly Elvish Imrahil, and Imrahil's sister longing for the sea...).

Okay, Elizabeth, focus. The point of all this is that you'd expect a certain difficulty with the gestation and delivery of ANY Gondorian Dúnadan even this late, and we continue to see the characteristic small families and general signs of Númenórean low fertility/low mortality. But Denethor is a markedly unusual child even by these standards. And he's implied to be the third of either three or four children, but is pretty clearly the only one who is that weird in his family, and possibly in the entire country, when he's young.

(The potential fourth child, a younger brother, is so comprehensively out of the picture by the WOTR that I suspect he was retconned out, but theoretically he could have been killed in battle without having children, or might be ineligible for war and inheritance for some other reason. To me it makes the most sense that he was retconned out, leaving Denethor as "the baby," but sometimes I imagine the younger brother does exist, and has a disability that keeps him out of both war and the succession according to the practices of Númenórean elites. I could believe that Gondorians would suspect that something "went wrong" with Denethor's brother specifically because Denethor is so exceptional, etc.)

I think Denethor being, in Tolkien's phrase, "almost purely Númenórean" would ensure that he seems normal by the standards of Gondorian Dúnedain at birth, but soon would head into full uncanny valley Númenórean child vibes (per NOME). On Númenor, there's a cultural expectation of children just being like that, but I suspect it would not be normal at this point, at least not to nearly so great a degree. And since Denethor is the third child, the contrast with the two older ones would make it all the clearer that something different is going on with him.

For all of Gondor's records, I suspect there's a lot about ye olde Númenóreans that has simply been lost by this point. I imagine Denethor became ultra-learned in lore both for its own sake, and to understand his own experience of the world, which would only diverge more and more markedly from other people's as he grew older. There's a lot of knowledge that simply has never been recovered and he would have had to figure much of it out by sheer strength of will.

I imagine that Denethor's parents, older sisters, and caretakers did love him, but he was strange and off-putting, and they couldn't give him ... it feels very therapy-speak-ish to say "scaffolding." But there used to be a common framework for understanding the development of Númenórean children as they once were that has largely dissolved. I think the people around young Denethor did their best, but it wasn't enough for anyone concerned.

It's come up a few times on my blog that when it comes to the "powers of mind" type of Númenórean abilities, it's a bit difficult to compare Aragorn with Denethor and Faramir, because Aragorn is so much subtler and more adaptable. He can turn the eldritch strangeness off and pass unnoticed when he wants to. Denethor and Faramir's own eldritch strangeness may not be as "remote," but with them it seems like it's always on and there's no missing them or their capabilities when they're present.

Maybe this just has to do with the particular abilities they favor, the bleedover of temperament and nature, etc. But it's also possible that part of the unobtrusiveness of Aragorn when he wants to be vs Denethor and Faramir's neon "Númenórean" sign blinking at all times is that Denethor and Faramir weren't raised by Elrond amidst a community of Elves who would be familiar with both a long line of Elrosian Númenórean children and with the oddities (and even cultural protocols) that Númenóreans mostly share with Elves in the first place, even if the pace is different.

But Denethor and Faramir have never been normal in their context. There was no Elrond for them. And while young Faramir at least had Denethor himself to instruct him and perhaps even model Númenóreanness for him, however fraught that instruction may have been, it's possible that Denethor didn't really have anyone at all.

(The fact that Denethor married late and specifically married and dearly loved the Elvish-coded sister of notable Weird Cool Guy Imrahil seems perhaps significant.)

I think that while Denethor values his own abilities and is very proud of who and what he is, this experience of the world would have been incredibly isolating even amidst the oddities of Gondorian Dúnedain in general. I suspect Gandalf is actually spot-on when he says that Denethor loved Boromir all the more because Boromir was unlike him. I also suspect it would be clear quite early, especially to Denethor and Finduilas themselves, that Boromir was very different—the "strain" would have been fairly light.

(Boromir is distinguished not only from the high-octane Númenóreanness of Denethor and Faramir and even Imrahil, but from Gondorian cultural norms in general. He is a Dúnadan without question, but as a "type" he has more in common with the Rohirrim and seems to have an especially strong rapport with them.)

I also suspect that if Faramir had been born first, he might well have been an only child. As it is, the actual process of his gestation and birth was likely an ordeal for Denethor and Finduilas to begin with, even if her physical health was not in question at the time (which I actually presume, given that she lived for five more years and her early death is in no way attributed to Faramir ever). But Denethor would have known from early on that Faramir is special in the way that he himself is special, that the weird isolating experience he's had, that it was such a relief to see Boromir spared from, will happen to Faramir. And I'm guessing they also would have understood that Faramir being so exceptional ensured there would be no other children.

Sometimes I wonder if Denethor's knowledge of the experience Faramir was facing actually contributed to their fraught relationship. He could be about as normal a parental figure to Boromir as the ruler of a desperate nation could ever be to his heir. He could have something that looked like the lives of other people in that specific context. But his relationship with Faramir was never going to be normal, could never be.

There was probably a really peculiar period for Boromir and Faramir as brothers when Boromir was maturing normally while Faramir was the weird kid absorbing information from lore, from Denethor, from true-dreams, from other people's minds. I can even imagine that the young Boromir's role as "protector" of Faramir was not just his powerful elder sibling energy but related to child Faramir being genuinely strange. But by this time there would at least be a framework for understanding Faramir's development and more bizarre qualities—he's like Denethor, oh, okay. Any way that he's not like Denethor could probably be attributed to Finduilas's own peculiarities.

The tension between Denethor and Faramir is so profoundly shaped by their commonalities despite their somewhat different philosophical conclusions etc that it's difficult not to see that as a factor. They love each other and resent each other and see through each other in some ways but not the basic fact of their mutual love. Denethor is anxious about Gandalf stealing Faramir's love and loyalty from him while Faramir likes Gandalf but presents his influence as distinctly minor and calls for Denethor as he's dying, etc. They're two of the most Númenórean people alive and their perspectives on Númenor, Gondor, the war, their political situation in general are extremely shaped by it.

But I kind of wonder if Denethor also saw a bit of Thorongil in Faramir—someone akin to him, with such strikingly similar abilities and appearance, who even thinks similarly to him in many ways, but whose circumstances ensure he's always had a context and framework for understanding why he's so different and guidance in handling it. Yes, it's Denethor's choice to provide that guidance, but still, it does mean that Faramir is never quite as isolated as the young Denethor likely was.

To us it can seem obvious that Ecthelion's favoritism of Thorongil above even Denethor is unconsciously replicated by Denethor with his own sons (with Boromir as "the Thorongil" and Faramir as "the Denethor" to Denethor's Ecthelion). But I suspect it looks very different to Denethor.

#note: i wrote this while rather sleepy so apologies if it's unclear (i know it's rambling...) #bretwalda lamnguin #respuestas #long post #anghraine's meta #anghraine's headcanons #legendarium blogging #húrinionath #jewel of the seashore #denethor #ecthelion #faramir #boromir #team dúnedain #númenórë #ondonórë blogging #jrr tolkien #lord of the rings

[blacktacmopsi]

i don’t want to think of Elias as a bad father 😞

you could rightfully think so with all the awful shit he had the boys’ doing as kids, him sending them outside The Wall, training them into his obedient little soldiers maybe outta some selfish “pride, honour, your country” career military man bs…

but I absolutely think he for the most part does it out of love for his sons. his only two boys, probably only family left in the world. he just wants them to be the best of the best men how he thinks that is. maybe he thinks it’s safer for them, to be prepared, to be strong and self-assured. he fostered independence early on within them.

in the Rorke file interviews Hesh kinda did acknowledge, yeah, our childhood was rough.

maybe he thought, what if they weren’t military? where would Lo and Hesh be then? you mentioned one time about those ‘natural disaster’ refugee camps, those places in their world set up for the displaced would definitely be absolute squalor.

then again, chiefly, he did rope them into his own messy bromance with Rorke. even said “leave my boys outta this,” Elias full well knows it is personal.

your thoughts? I really wanna hear

I actually had a conversation about this with @milkteaarttime on discord regarding something similar.

I don't think Elias is an awful father but, I do feel like there are clues that point to some questionable, for lack of a better term, dynamics that he seemed to establish with Hesh & Logan- specifically the parentification of Hesh.

You kind of first get a glimpse of this during the ODIN strikes at the start where Elias instructs Hesh to watch his brother while going to get the truck. This always stuck me as odd because of how he phrases it & the implication that Logan is kind of helpless or is in need of more care than Hesh is, even though they're like, what? One year apart in age? Elias could have easily said "You two look out for each other while I get the truck" or anything along those lines. There's also the time after the Odin strikes where Hesh tells Logan he thought it best to let him sleep a little longer, and also the whole giving him the mask thing. There's lots of hints of this throughout the game where Logan seems to be treated softer and it looks like the roots of this are established pretty early among the Walkers.

This could be from mama Walker passing, Elias doing the best he could, Hesh just being the first born (and first born son at that), or some other factors I'm not considering.

I'm sure Elias didn't do this with any ill will and wanted his boys to be upstanding and self sufficient men. The patriotism probably just comes with the territory of having a special forces father and not "I'm doing this with the intent to make you both good little American rah rah soldiers." But, I feel like in Elias's best efforts, he inadvertently created an unbalanced dynamic between his sons.

I don't know.

Maybe I'm projecting because I'm a product of such skewed dynamic peppered with double standards (Hispanic family lol). I could recognize the tendrils of that kind of thing among the Walkers & it mirrored my own upbringing. I wasn't the Hesh. I was the Logan and it was suffocating and I could see just how much my older brother was converted to parent 2.0 (even more so since he was the first born son) and it sucked.

You do bring up an interesting point: Elias wanted Rorke to leave his sons out of this mess. But, Elias fully knew they were going up against him and STILL roped his sons into that. Hmmmmm.

lol sorry if this is a directionless ramble, anon.

@milkteaarttime Any thoughts? That convo we had gave lots of insight.

#They Wanted to Know

[kpoptarotastrology009]

Unpopular fame indicators in natal chart

1- Venus in the 9th house : I always see Venus in the 9th house in a lot of celebrities charts and I always ask myself why people don't consider it as a fame indicator ? For example: Maryline Monroe with Aries Venus in the 9th house/ Jeon Jungkook  with Libra Venus in the 9th house/ Jennifer Lopez with Gemini Venus in the 9th house/ Eminem and Kim Kardashian with Virgo Venus in the 9th house /Christina Aguilera and  Billie eilish with Sagittarius Venus in the 9th house/ Megan Thee Stallion with Capricorn Venus in the 9th house... And others but those are what people know worldwide

2- Virgo moon : is it just me that I always find people with Virgo moon have an  attractive AURA ???  They are sooo magnetic their aura just pulls you in even without them trying like HOW ??? You may heard that Leo moon is better than a Virgo moon/ people with Virgo moon are boring ect... But I always notice that people are always attracted to a person that has a Virgo moon more than a person with Leo moon , all the people with Virgo moon have that attractive aura that everyone wish they have. exp :Madonna ( Queen)/ Nicki Minaj ( if you love Nicki or not you can't lie about the aura that she has buddy) /Zayn Malik ( do I have to even talk about the aura that Zayn has ?!!!!?? 🥹)/ duke Dennis ( which is known for his aura , they always asking how I get the duke Dennis aura 😭 ) / jeon Jungkook  and min yoongi aka suga from BTS you can't lie about those two's auras broo ( I saw them on stage together in yoongi's concert and that was FIRE 🔥) /Bella Hadid ( her aura OMG 😳) /Gordon Ramsay ( gordan always has that aura about him that everyone will notice) /Doja Cat ( do I need to say something? I guess we all know doja's Aura ?) /Dolly Parton ( I love dolly so much 😭) / jack harlow ( jack is not even playing with his aura man 😭)

3- Saturn conjunct the ASC/ MC : those people are Born leaders and They are meant for success ONLY if they work for it . If you have this aspect and you want success you need to work hard for it because if you did before your saturn return work hard on yourself (ASC) or on your career ( MC ) saturn return will come with a lot of rewards for you

4 - Uranus in the 5th House: This placement can suggest unique, creative talents that garner attention. Innovations or unconventional approaches in creative endeavors can lead to fame.

5-quintiles and bi-quintiles to the Midheaven (MC) : These minor aspects, often overlooked in traditional astrology, carry significant weight when it comes to unique talents and creative expression.A quintile, which is an aspect of 72 degrees, and a bi-quintile, at 144 degrees, are linked to the number 5. This number represents creativity, harmony, and the ability to bring artistic visions into reality. When these aspects involve the Midheaven, the point in your chart associated with career, public life, and reputation, it suggests a special blend of talents that can shine in the professional sphere.Imagine someone with a quintile between Venus and the MC. Venus, the planet of beauty, art, and harmony, infuses their career path with an inherent knack for aesthetics and diplomacy. This person might excel in careers related to design, fashion, or any field that requires a refined artistic sense. They might find that their natural creativity helps them stand out and gain recognition.Now, consider a bi-quintile involving Mercury and the MC. Mercury governs communication, intellect, and versatility. This aspect suggests a unique ability to convey ideas and information in innovative ways. Such a person might be a brilliant writer, speaker, or educator, using their exceptional communication skills to captivate and influence their audience. Their career success comes from their innovative approach to sharing knowledge.These aspects indicate not just talent, but a rare and often effortless ability to use those talents in ways that are highly valued in their profession. The creativity and originality they bring can lead to groundbreaking work that garners public acclaim. It's like having a secret superpower that propels you to the forefront of your career, often through avenues that others might not even consider.So, if you find quintiles or bi-quintiles to your MC in your chart, pay close attention. These aspects could be the key to unlocking your unique potential and achieving the kind of career success that feels not only fulfilling but also genuinely expressive of your inner gifts

6- Erigone (163) in the 10th House : Erigone , a minor asteroid, is associated with themes of dedication, sacrifice, and a deep sense of duty. When Erigone finds itself in the 10th House, which governs career, public life, and reputation, it brings a unique flavor to one’s path to success.Picture someone with Erigone in the 10th House. This person is likely to approach their career with an unwavering sense of responsibility and commitment. They might find themselves driven by a profound inner calling to serve or contribute to a cause greater than themselves. Unlike more traditional markers of success, Erigone’s influence suggests that this individual’s achievements are often the result of consistent hard work and perseverance, rather than quick or easy wins.For example, consider a person working in a demanding profession like healthcare, social work, or education. With Erigone in the 10th House, their career journey is marked by a willingness to endure hardships and make personal sacrifices for the benefit of others. This could mean long hours, emotional labor, or going above and beyond the call of duty. Their sense of fulfillment and recognition comes not just from external rewards, but from knowing they have made a meaningful impact.Erigone here also indicates that this person might face significant challenges or periods of hardship in their professional life. However, these trials are met with resilience and an unwavering dedication to their goals. It’s through overcoming these obstacles that they build a reputation for reliability and strength, earning the respect and admiration of their peers and superiors.Imagine an individual in the corporate world with this placement. Their career might involve taking on tough projects, navigating complex organizational dynamics, or making difficult decisions that require personal sacrifice. Yet, it’s precisely these qualities that set them apart as a leader who can be trusted to handle crises with grace and resolve.In essence, Erigone in the 10th House bestows a kind of quiet heroism. Success achieved under this influence isn’t about the loud applause or flashy accolades, but rather the deep, enduring respect earned through steadfast dedication and a willingness to make sacrifices for the greater good. If you have Erigone in your 10th House, know that your path to success is likely paved with moments of quiet strength and profound contributions that leave a lasting legacy.

7-Ceres in the 10th House : this aspect signifies a career path focused on nurturing and caregiving. This placement suggests that professions involving support and care for others—such as healthcare, education, or social services—are likely avenues for achieving public recognition and success.For example, someone with this placement might be a dedicated nurse, gaining respect for their compassionate care, or a teacher known for fostering a supportive learning environment. Their professional achievements often come from their genuine desire to help others, making a lasting positive impact.generally if you have Ceres in the 10th House, your career success is closely linked to your ability to nurture and support those around you. Public recognition often follows your heartfelt contributions and dedication to the well-being of others.

#astrology observations #fame rp #astrology #astrology placements #jungkook #duke dennis #yoongi #suga #bts #bts army #bts jungkook #bts updates #nicki minaj #dolly parton #jack harlow x reader #jackman harlow #madonna #marylin monroe #kim kardashian #billie eilish #jennifer lopez #slim shady #eminem x reader #christina aguilera #meghan thee stallion #virgo moon #jupiter #asteroid #saturn #ascendant sign

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hiyori Reader and please? She’s Qin Shi Huang, Hades, Hercules and Apollo’s wife and has just as much confidence and authority as an Empress/Queen as well as for being the Daughter of a Shogun, her father Oden, espite that she’s actually a caring, kind and gentle woman with her Husband, the man who won over her heart (As he didn’t see her as an object but instead a person)

Reader is good friends with Aphrodite and loves to play her music for Shiva as he became a fan of her father’s and likes to dance to her music

She and (Love) keep their marriage a secret as they don’t want attention

However when an arrogant god has been abusing others, mainly humans, well as repeatedly tried to hit on her for her beauty and trying to make her marry him, she’s had enough especially when he insulted her father Oden for being a ‘Fool’ and harmed him with a divine tool and after she slapped him

“I’m the Shogun’s Daughter, I am Y/N, when you speak to me, mind your tongue!! Even when I was starving, even when I was dressed in rags, I carried with me the honor that my father brought to our name! You have never been a proper god a day in your life! You’re nothing but a thief! An imposter! You’re a lowly worm and a coward!! And the longer you live your pathetic excuse of a life the more innocent people die!!”

I love how much of a queen Hiyori is and her speech to Orochi gave me CHILLS

-You were a stunning beauty- one that so many in Valhalla admired and worshipped- your stunning beauty and grace was known to rival even Aphrodite’s- who wasn’t bothered, as she was a good friend of yours.

-Your beauty was something natural, your parents blessing you with your mother’s looks, but your father’s heart- as you were a proud woman, always willing to help those who needed it the most.

-That’s another reason so many admired you- for your kind and gentle heart- you were especially popular with the kids, who loved to come and see you, listening to your music or watching you dance.

-You had many friends in Valhalla, not just Aphrodite, many warriors found themselves drawn to you- they could sense you were more powerful than you let on, but you were very careful not to reveal any of your secrets.

-Shiva and Rudra loved to listen to your music, as they would dance, showing you unique dancing that you had never seen, and in exchange you would show them and others in the Hindu Pantheon your own dancing, which was something they had yet to experience, but they loved it.

-While adored and loved by all, but when others would come confessing their love to you- you would tell them that you were already married, and happily so. Many were distraught to learn this, but you never said to who.

-Only a small handful of people knew who you were married to- as you and (Love) kept it quiet, mainly because the two of you didn’t want to deal with the headaches, as he was also highly desired by others in Valhalla.

-The way you carried yourself was a good hint, as you carried yourself like an empress, someone of great power- but that was only part of it- as you were the daughter of a Shogun, and you wouldn’t let anyone forget it.

-You were at a party in the Hindu Pantheon, your husband was there as well, as it was a gathering of humans and gods- the warriors from Ragnarok. Shiva had asked you to play some of your music, which you were happy to do.

-Your angelic smile caught the attention of many as you played, putting your heart and soul into your music, something that (Love) couldn’t help but smile over- you were so passionate.

-When you were done playing for the moment, so you could take a small break and get something to drink, you flashed a small smile towards (Love) who was across the room.

-You then heard a familiar voice, and you groaned softly internally, hearing the voice of Kand, a cocky god who wasn’t taking your rejections with grace- he didn’t believe that you were married, thinking you were just saying that to keep others away, and that you were just shy!

-He quickly approached, asking you, loudly, to marry him again. Everything went silent- seeing the proposal and Shiva sent a worried glance over at (Love), as he was one of the few who knew who you were married to- he was all for brawls- but he didn’t really want one at today’s party.

-Your voice was firm, as were your eyes, “I am not interested.” Your constant rejections were annoying him- he was willing to give you a chance, because you were a human, because you were beautiful- but you were being so stuck up about it!!

-He glared hard, “Get off your high horse Y/N- you’re nobody special so I don’t know why you are walking around here like you own the place- that loser of a father of yours lost his title when he was killed so you can just-”

-The moment he mentioned your father, you saw red and SLAP!!!!

-The slap echoed around the party, stunning everyone into silence again as he was sent spinning before falling to his knees, his ears ringing as you glared harshly down at him, “I am the Shogun’s daughter- I am Y/N! When you speak to me, mind your tongue! Even when I was starving, even when I was dressed in rags, I carried with me the honor that my father brought to our name! You have never been a proper god a day in your life! You’re nothing but a thief! An imposter! You’re a lowly worm and a coward!! And the longer you live your pathetic excuse of a life- the more innocent people die!!”

-Your speech was so passionate that so many were staring at you in awe as he finally managed to stand, furious that you had struck him, “How dare you-”

-He was cut off when you took a step forward, then another, “Don’t like it- then cut me down! I won’t stop when I know I am right- I am a samurai’s daughter. I will not live in disgrace!”

-A hand clapped down on your shoulder, and you turned to see (Love) there, looking quite unlike himself, as he was furious looking, making Kand fold in on himself, before he spoke, “I don’t take kindly to others speaking so rudely to my wife- worm. Get lost.”

-Many were surprised that (Love) outed the two of you as a couple, but you weren’t bothered, you were going to stand by your husband’s decision as the two of you looked like such a power couple together as Kand was quick to rush out of the party.

-Everything was silent for a moment, before loud cheers filled the room, surprising you as Shiva cheered, happy that you two finally announced yourselves publicly.

-You smiled demurely, cupping your cheek as the party got started again.

-He turned to you, taking your hand in his own, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself with such a powerful slap, “Are you alright, Y/N?” you just smiled, taking your hand back, not looking at all bothered, “I am- it hurts but I am not bothered.” He smiled softly, seeing your strength as he pecked your forehead softly- he knew that you could handle yourself with ease.

            -Hercules and Hades

-Held your hand softly, massaging it once the two of you were sitting again, “I can’t believe that bastard tried to take you away from me!” you just laughed softly, seeing him jealous as you reached up, cupping his cheek gently, “He would never have me- not while you still live. And even then- I would chose death first before being with such a man.” He beamed at your praise, pecking your cheek softly, making you smile.

            -Qin Shi Huang and Apollo

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror hades #ror heracles #ror qin shi huang #ror apollo

[truthful-peanut]

A/N: Hello everyone! My name is Peanut and this is my first post on this account! I’ve posted online before but it’s been a few years since then so I might not be the best 😭 Please forgive me. For my first post, I decided to write some yummy angst 😋 I hope you enjoy and consider following me if you enjoyed this.

— Peanut <33

————————————

I hate you, Toji Fushiguro || Toji Fushiguro x Reader & Megumi Fushiguro + Reader Drabble

Summary: You are the only stable and constant parental figure Megumi has ever had and he hates that his deadbeat dad has you rapped around his finger despite Toji clearly showing he only wants you late at night for the sake of his own pleasure.

Warnings: ANGST, unrequited love, absent parents, swearing, GN! Reader, hints at spoilers for season 2 JJK??, not proofread, possible spelling mistakes, lmk if I missed anything.

————————————

Megumi doesn’t know his mother, he was never given the chance to meet her. But he’s okay with that because you fill her absent role.

You were originally just someone Toji used to hookup with every now and then, so naturally you had bumped into Megumi a few times. You were kind and caring every time, however these moments weren’t what made you replace her role.

No, that came much later when you found out Toji would sometimes leave Megumi and his sister Tsumiki alone months on end.

You couldn’t sit by and watch that, so you stepped in and stayed at the Fushiguro’s flat and took care of them. Looked after them. You were more than a parental figure to him, you were his parent. Fuck Toji and his absent ass, at least his mother had the excuse of being dead. Toji however just seemingly up and left one day.

Sure, maybe he comes home every so often, but it’s never for long and he’s only either arguing with you or he’s staring at you intensely, his eyes full of lust. Then on the contrary, there’s you. You are always there. A stable and constant figure in his life other than his sister.

Now it’s common knowledge that Megumi is very mature for his age, so while it shouldn’t shock you, it comes as a surprise when one day he tells you;

“Stop hoping dad will fall for you. We both know he’s not going to. He’s too stuck in his own mind to be able to love someone else.”

You swallow thickly. What is up with this six year old? How long has Toji neglected him for him to mature this quickly? You stop preparing dinner and move over to the young boy, crouching to his level and placing your hands on both of his shoulders, offering a warm smile.

“Don’t worry about it ‘gumi-chan. Even if your dad doesn’t love me back, that’s never going to stop me from caring for you and Tsumiki, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Megumi is relieved to hear this, but he’s still worried about you. You’re hurting yourself by hoping Toji cares to one day love you.

“I…Okay.”

And that was the end of that conversation…until it wasn’t.

Later that year, a strange white haired man with black sunglasses came to their flat telling him he came to take him in. Before he could reject this weird man, you came out of the flat asking who he was. Turns out he’s called Gojo Satoru and he came with news about Toji.

At this you immediately invited him in, offering him something to drink, he says a glass of water will do fine. Once you give him his glass, he tells you Megumi should probably not be here for this conversation.

After Megumi’s allowed back into the main living space, he knows something has happened to Toji. Your head is hung low and your cheeks are damp with red eyes, clearly you’ve been crying. You wipe your face and beckon him over.

“Megumi, come here.”

He walks over to your place at the kitchen table and takes the seat next to you.

“This kind man here has an offer for us. We can either stay here and in two years time we join the Zen’in Clan, or we go with this man and live with him. You will need to train to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer once you’re older if we decide to go with him, so I thought I’d ask you-“

“If we stay here and join the Zen’in Clan, will you and Tsumiki be happy? They’re wealthy, right? We’d be okay financially-“

“I’m sorry to interrupt, however,”

You and Megumi turn to Gojo.

“If you want your sister and mentor to be happy, I can guarantee you they will be far from it if you join the Zen’in Clan. Trust me.”

“…well then, let’s go with him if he’s our best option.”

You smile at him and side hug him, placing a soft kiss on the crown of his head.

“Alright. Explain to Tsumiki and pack your things. I’ll come help you and Tsumiki in a second.”

Megumi slips out of his chair to head back to his room. Once you hear the soft click of Megumi’s door, your face drops as you place your face in your hands. You laugh bittersweetly.

“He really knows how to fuck things over, huh?… Did he really not say anything about me to you?”

“I’m sorry Mx. L/N, not a peep. If I knew you were in the picture, I would’ve knocked instead of talking to him directly first.”

You quietly hum to your self, whispering:

“Who would’ve thought I should’ve taken the advice of a six year old?”

The little six year old in question is on the other side of his bedroom door, listening to the conversation through the thin wood. So he was right, something did happen to Toji. He had warned you to let go of Toji. He knew one day Toji would hurt you one final time. Leaving you completely broken. Despite knowing this, he was seething inside and out. No one should make you feel like this. Especially not his sorry excuse of a father who only gave you the time of day when he wanted some pleasure.

He hates Toji Fushiguro. He hates him for never being around for his family. He hates him for neglecting him and Tsumiki to the point where they can’t even remember what he looks like. He hates him for a plethora of reasons, the list could go on. But, above all, he hates Toji Fushiguro for using you. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists. Just thinking about that despicable man makes blood boil.

“I hate you, Toji Fushiguro.”

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Please don’t copy or take as your own. Likes and reposts are appreciated!

#toji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #jjk toji #angst #jjk angst #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader

[yuesya]

With a gasp, awareness floods into his body once more.

Open cuts knit themselves back together, broken bones realign with no regard for his own will. A dead heart that was just run through by a sword of ice and moonlight begins beating once more, forcing blood to pump through the veins of an abomination that has no desire to be tethered to life.

A frustrated hiss escapes his throat, and Blade hauls himself upright, slowly rising from a pool of his own blood.

… The Mara is quiet, for once. It’s quiet for the very first time since his return to the Xianzhou Luofu; the past several days in this agonizingly familiar land have served as a special hell all of its own. But he knows that the current respite in his head is only an illusionary peace, merely one that follows the aftermath of every temporary ‘death.’ Soon, the Mara will rear its head once more, flooding his mind with madness and bloodlust that isn’t entirely his own–

But that’s nothing new.

Staggering to his feet as his body continues healing in complete disregard of his own wishes, Blade casts a glance around his surroundings. The young Cloud Knight child, Jing Yuan’s apprentice, is speaking quietly with his master. A slight distance away from them, closer to the lapping waves of the Scalegorge Waterscape, stand Imbibitor Lunae’s incarnation and Jingliu.

Jingliu.

The one who’d carved her swordplay into Blade’s immortal body, every cut and slice and ice-cold utterance, Of five, there are three who must pay a price. Who’d been the one to kill him just now, at Blade’s own behest.

Who’d failed to kill him.

Again.

…

Elio had informed him beforehand that this was not the stage where he would find his final death. Once more, his scripts are accurate to a fault.

It’s not yet time, Blade.

Yes. He knows.

His end… will not come at the hands of Jingliu, who’d already killed him thousands upon thousands of times before. Nor will it occur in an altercation against a powerful opponent who far outstrips him in combat ability, nor from any enemy that he encounters when playing out his role in Elio’s scripts.

“As expected,” he murmurs quietly, “In the end, my death… can only be wrought by your hands, Shiki.”

White hair, blue eyes. Quiet, and expressionless. A calmness that remains unchanged even as she stands upon a mountain of corpses, and the ground beneath her feet runs red with blood.

‘The swords of mortals cannot kill the flesh of Emanators, who are blessed by Aeons.’ Jingliu’s words do not lie, but Shiki is an exception. She’s also more curse than mortal.

One day, eventually…

“Who’s ‘Shiki,’ if I might ask?”

There’s a guileless smile on Jing Yuan’s face when Blade lifts his gaze towards the other man. Guileless, but lined by something sharp.

“As an Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Alliance, it’s only natural that I’m a little curious,” he says, “About someone who has the capability to kill a being created from the flesh of an Emanator of Abundance.”

“Not yet.”

Jing Yuan arches an eyebrow. “But they will in the future?”

Yes. That much, Elio has confirmed.

“… Interesting. What’s your relationship? Ah, don’t tell me it’s another Stellaron Hunter–”

White hair splaying out everywhere. Blue eyes looking up towards him from the ground. Silver Wolf holding out a phone with a colorful glowing screen, “Hurry up, I need you two for co-op rewards!”

Falling asleep, using Firefly’s shoulder as a pillow. The air in the corridor is cold, and both of them are wearing too little. They need a blanket. Firefly glances up and smiles when one is draped over them, “Thank you, Blade.”

Sitting beside a coffee machine, three steaming cups arranged atop the counter. Kafka shaking her head, bemused, “Why do you always make your coffee so sweet? Even Bladie is going to get cavities at this rate.”

A single girl, surrounded by a sea of dismembered corpses. Every step leaves a bloodstained footprint as she approaches.

“There you are, Blade. Let’s go back.”

…

Shiki. His relationship with her would be…

“One who seeks death,” he answers, “And one who brings it.”

#writing #zenith of stars au #stellaron hunter au #this takes place towards the tail end of jingliu's character quest #after the cutscene where she and blade fight each other basically #thank you to ko-fi friends!

[theanxiousghostartist]

TMAGP 19 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

Gonna try and organize my thoughts and theories here; sorry if I ramble!

Sam/Celia Conversation:

So Celia and Sam are both looking into alchemy. Sam said that he started through the Institute, who was "...pretty deep into all this stuff." Celia, we know, was specifically looking into transference and spiritual substitution of elements (from Sam's recognizing of the symbols). This gives us more support for the 'Celia is Celia from TMA' theory (which I'm on board with). It's nice to have more evidence for that!

Also, the idea that Sam is "going to drop the Institute research???" Buddy, you might try, but I think Chester (rn I've theorized that they're Jon from TMA) has other plans for you 😭

Case:

I was surprised, at first, with the date on this (1684), since Augustus usually does the older cases, and Chester usually focuses on the Institute, however, I feel like it makes more sense with the statement's content. So it seems like Issac Newton was doing some... unethical experiments that involved creating "seeds of knowledge" that resulted in the subject being turned into a knowledgeable tree (?). First off, I love the Frankenstein vibes off this case. Second, this case sorta feels like an explanation of what happened in Episode 3 with Dr. Webber. He stumbled into the garden, ate some fruit, and began turning into a tree/plant. Newton definitely seems to be marked by the Eye, especially with his thirst of knowledge and the experiment's results being described as:

"It lay down as if to sleep whereupon it grew ever more peaceful and still. I almost believed it dead, poisoned by my companion, but then 1 saw something far more distressing. The creature was taking root. Strands of its mottled brown hair were extruding downwards between the floor, seeking the dark earth below. Then, too, its back began to sprout, radiant branches unfurling and thickening before me, reaching upwards towards the sunlight with a seemingly insatiable desire.

The dog then opened one eye and stared at me and this was the most disturbing thing of all, for that orb was also shimmering with that unnatural light, but more than that, it looked upon me and it knew me not as a beast knows its master but as one man knows another and though such a creature must by all natural law lack that essential and ephemeral anima that is required for such awful knowledge tell you here Robert, it saw me and it knew me."

The author of this letter (Robert) recommended that they use "the Protocol" against Newton. He described the Protocol at the beginning of this letter as some kind of way to destroy knowledge. My theory, at the moment, is that the Magnus Protocol stemmed from the "Protocol" discussed in this statement. It was the reason that The Magnus Institute was burned down. The archivist either got too close to the truth (like Gertrude did in TMA), and they (along with the Institute) had to go, or (more likely), the archivist figured out the truth and burned down the Institute aligning with this Protocol (basically what Gertrude was trying to do).

Alice/Sam Conversion:

Sam is finally putting everything together, yay!

I hope that he doesn't spiral like Colin and maybe can get some help from Chester?

Lena/Gwen Conversation:

Honestly, I love Lena's arc with Gwen starting at

"I don't care about you being mean to me. Stay away, please."

and now going to

"Welp, F you too. I'm tired of your crap. But also, I still care about you since I need to protect my staff, which includes you."

I can't wait to see these two interact more!

Alice/Colin conversation:

Colin feels like S2 Jon from TMA. He's very paranoid while trying to figure out the truth. Colin's goal is not to be seen. He doesn't want "him" to know what he's found out. Now, this "him" could be Newton (assuming he is living on through an experiment or by being an Avatar), Chester/Jon(?) (in the computer/technology), Augustus/Jonah (?) (in the computer/technology), Fr3D1 (the system, could be an entity or avatar), or maybe someone related to "mummy and daddy Stasi." After a quick Google search, Stasi is a nickname for the State Security Service of East Germany that existed from 1950 - 1990. Established by the USSR, the primarily worked in surveillance and espionage. I wonder if this is a reference to the Eye? Or maybe a specific Avatar?

Furthermore, in Colin's mini rant, he says,

"Not that anyone cares as long as it all balances, right? Not too much mercury or the world ends, not too much sulfur or we all go mad..."

I'm going to break this down, bit by bit, because he's got a lot of information in here.

"Not that anyone cares as long as it all balances, right?"

This seems to be referencing the property of equal exchange or the idea that no thing can come from nothing.

If you've watched/read Fullmetal Alchemist, you might be familiar with this. My mind immediately went to the scene where Edward is preforming the ritual with Alphonse to bring their mother back. The ritual failed, with Edward losing his left leg and Alphonse's body deconstructing. Edward had to sacrifice his right arm to tie Alphonse's soul to a suit of armor so he would not die.

I wonder if a sacrifice like this will be required by a character to save another or beat a foe.

"Not too much mercury or the world ends..."

This, I think, is tying alchemy to the entities, specifically here, the Extinction. Mercury, a toxic element (in its gaseous form), can cause organs to shut down and impair the nervous system and is one of the seven metals of alchemy.

"Not too much sulfur or we all go mad..."

Again, this seems to be tying alchemy to the entities. Sulfur, in alchemy, represents the evaporation, dissolution, exapnsion, and the soul, and as a chemical, is low toxicity (mainly toxic as dust) and may cause irritation or burning, but, in the human body, it is used to build DNA. At first, I thought this was being tied to the Spiral because of madness. However, this could be tied to the Web, with the idea of building DNA and expanding, like how the web works. They build the foundation of their web, and then they expand their ideas and manipulation, either by handing the job over to other entities or by settley nuding situations in order to get the desired outcomes.

My current theory is that alchemy is going to be used in the rituals for the entities and as a way to create avatars. Basically, it's will be similar to how Leitner's function in TMA.

Anyway, this was a great episode! I really want to do more research on Alchemy now, lol. Sorry for the ramble. 😅

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tmagp 18 spoilers #tmagp 18 #tmagp speculation #tmagp theory #the magnus universe #the magnus protocol theory #the magnus protocol spoilers #the magnus protocol 18 spoilers #the magnus protocol 18 #celia ripley #sam khalid #samama khalid #alice dyer #colin becher #lena kelley #gwen bouchard #gwendolyn bouchard #the ghost rambles

[thedesireds]

— [ IDR ] —

• roman reigns x black fem reader

summary: after two years of separation, a drunk phone call brings an unexpected reunion.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, slightly vulgar language but that’s pretty much it.

word count // 2.5k

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Acrylic nails mindlessly stirred the deep amber liquid in front of her. She would’ve opted for something lighter, but the aching in her chest begged to be pacified. Shoulders brushed against her in the confined space. The vibrations from the speakers that traveled from the wooden floor throughout her body was her oxygen; the only thing keeping the monstrous cage around her heart from caving in.

She exhaled deeply before closing her eyes. The burning sedated the dull pain, finally giving her what she longed for. Relief. Though the days would pass and her heart would yearn once again. Inebriation soon overwhelmed her, and whilst her mind was almost gone, her body governed her with ease. Legs carried her outside of the bar and around the rust brick building. Fingers fumbled around a purse for a few seconds before pulling out a slim rectangular electronic, the lit screen anticipating the truth that sat on her heart.

“There are countless things that are wrong with me. I’m flawed and fragile. Why would you want a glass case as a fiance? As your wife?”

The impulsive phrase magnified their romance into a blooming estrangement, condemning her to almost two years of seclusion. Her chestnut irises rapidly moved across the device, searching for the one name that could do more than just temporarily pick up the pieces.

Roman.

Her eyes lingered on his contact photo for a few seconds. She kept everything; pictures, voice messages, brief notes that he’d written on random loose sheets of paper succeeding their most intimate moments. When they first met she didn’t take him as romantic. They had not-so-subtly been surprised with a blind double date after Naomi suggested she join her and Jimmy out skating.

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She walked into the building fully believing that it was another night out with her favorite couple. She’d roll around for a while; then go head to head with Jimmy in air hockey at the small arcade on the side of the rink while Naomi cheered her on. Jimmy would pout and joke that she loved her more than him. The Rink was their old stomping grounds. She and Naomi would go every weekend during their school years. Beating him was second nature. After their 3 round game, she took a seat at one of the benches near the lockers; switching out her sneakers for crisp white skates. Her fingers separated the lace before grabbing the skate and slipping it on. As she got ready to head back on the floor, she overheard a rich, baritone voice engaging with the underpaid worker at the counter, causing her to look up.

“Um, I don’t think we have a size 15, but I can take a look. Give me a second.” The lanky teenage boy disappeared from the counter while the mildly annoyed-looking man rubbed his beard in frustration. She watched his jaw clench, slightly shaking his head. His large hands barely fit in his pocket as he pulled out his phone. Her eyes scanned his side profile. Handsome was an understatement. She didn’t need to see his full face to know that, yet he must have felt her stare. His eyes immediately locked with hers and she got to see the entirety of his herculean features. A small smile replaced the frown that was there seconds before. His once furrowed brows softened, lips parting as if he took in a deep breath. She held her gaze while a smirk graced her face. Eye contact only breaking when she noticed the worker coming back to the front empty handed. Not wanting to be on the other side of his, presumably, growing irritation, she finished tying her skates and stood up. A quick glance was shot over her shoulder, leaving the alluring stranger to his dilemma.

An 808 bass guided resin wheels along maple floors. Strobe lights danced in her eyes and euphoria pulsated through her veins. After a few more songs, she finally decided to join her abandoned party of two. Naomi and Jimmy were sitting on the benches on the opposing side of the rink, his arms wrapped around her while they laughed. She found it adorable, just as much as when the couple first met. They were the perfect match, and they never made her feel like a third-wheel on their outings. So she could only imagine how crazy her face looked as she walked back to their bench, finding the new addition to their party leaning against the wall to the left of Naomi.

‘Who the fuck is h-’ her eyes squinted ever so slightly before widening. Realization and confusion tangoed in her mind while the three finally noticed her heading their way.

“This is my cousin, Roman.” Jimmy interrupted her unfinished thought, standing up and patting his cousin’s back before walking a few steps next to his wife. She was sure her facial expression said enough. Naomi looked at her with raised brows and pursed lips, holding back a laugh. The man outstretched his hand, a playful gleam in his eyes as he watched her. Chills ran down her spine as she hesitantly shook it and introduced herself. He towered over her, the top of her head barely reached the base of his neck. Blackcurrant and ambergris cologne encompassed her. Being so close to him felt magnetic. A hardened glare was thrown Naomi and Jimmy’s way; they met it with two awkward smiles and a thumbs up on Jimmy’s end.

“I apologize for interrupting.” Roman cleared his throat. “I’m visiting for the weekend and my cousin invited me out skating with him.” A tight lipped smile graced his face, letting her know that he, too, had fallen victim to the couple’s antics.

“Seems like those two have quite the sense of humor, huh? Naomi said the same thing to me.” A sarcastic laugh escaped her lips as she looked up at him, her eyes finally meeting his. “You should’ve known it was a set up.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side. “And why is that?” His brows furrowed in the same way she had seen earlier, slight wrinkles sat above the bridge of his nose.

Her lips formed into another smirk. “How many skating rinks do you know that actually carry a size 15.”

Roman let out a laugh and captured his bottom lip between his pearly whites, a small dimple forming in his cheek. A genuine smile spread across his face as he shook his head, causing her heart to flutter.

“Believe it or not, I’ve never been here before.” He rebutted.

Her brows raised. “Damn, you don’t visit your own cousin?”

“Oh you got jokes, huh.”

“Jimmy really dropped the ball by not telling you that I’m a comedian.” she quipped.

The rest of the night was full of playful banter between the couples. An old school evening of ‘girls versus boys’ transitioned to the Fatu’s home, where the drinks flowed and old college stories left her jumping across the coffee table to cover Naomi’s mouth. Roman and Jimmy reminisced on their youth, from wrestling in the backyard to finally making it to the mainstage together with Jimmy’s twin, Jey.

The liquor’s lethargic aftermath seemed to hit the group simultaneously. Naomi’s legs were stretched across Jimmy’s lap, his hand rested on her thigh as she nestled against him. She caught herself watching them, perhaps a bit too long. It was then she noticed Roman’s arm around her, his thumb tracing small circles on her shoulder. She let her eyes drift close, embracing the newfound comfort of her unanticipated future.

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If only she had known the consequences of her insecurities then. He was so good. Not just for her, but overall. Selfless. Understanding. Patient. Though she pushed the latter to exhaustion.

‘Two years couldn’t have been that long.’ She thought, knowing that each month was its own eternity. Her fingers trembled slightly as they hovered over blue digits. Apprehension started to peek through the logical side of her brain, longing fought to steer her in the opposite direction.

Push and pull. Angel and Devil.

Lucifer convinced the cognac to play puppet master, and ringing soon flooded her ears.

Once.

Twice.

A few more times.

Then she hung up. Heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. The line between relief and heartache blurred. She pressed the small button on the side of her phone, locking it before opening her purse again. Her chest tightened and a lump formed in her throat as she fought to hold back her tears. Embarrassed. Pathetic. Of course he didn’t answer. He probably changed his number ages ago. Why would he leave that door open?

Ring.

She froze. Her eyes met the big brown ones that appeared on her lockscreen. The phone vibrations traveled to her core.

He was calling back.

She took a moment before pressing the green button.

“Hello?” The octave of her voice barely above a whisper. A long pause followed, she braced herself. There was a brief moment of shuffling before Roman decided to speak.

“Why now?” He answered, voice deep and groggy. Nostalgia engulfed her. She missed him. Her phone moved from her ear and she looked at the screen.

2:47 A.M.

“I didn’t… realize how late it was...I’m sorry.” Her sentence dragged on longer than she intended. Shit.

“You’re drunk.” His tone was austere.

She hoped it hadn’t been too obvious, but Roman wasn’t fooled. “I might’ve had a drink or two. I just-”Her breath hitched. “I know..I know I fucked up.” Lucifer transformed from puppet master to a full on ventriloquist. A prolonged sigh followed by a slightly muffled ‘Fuck’ came from the opposite end of the phone.

“Where are you?”

“What?”

And for the first time in two years, her name left his lips.

“Where are you.” He demanded this time. Growing impatient with her lack of response.

She could hear him fully up and moving around. Keys jingled in the background, followed by a closed door and heavy footsteps. Those damn size 15’s . The Angel and Devil waged another internal war. She could apologize for disturbing him so late, hang up the phone and never bother him again. Leave him, again. Or she could get left to her own devices. Allow herself to come face to face with the past that she destroyed. With the man that she never stopped loving.

A cranked engine pulled her out of her thoughts.

“I’m in LaBelle.”

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Another double shot of cognac found its way into her tremulous hand as she waited for Roman to arrive. Her body cemented in disbelief. He was on his way there. To her. She tried to prepare herself, playing out multiple scenarios in her head, but she was too far gone. Intoxication hijacked what was left of her partly sober mind. Her legs barely held her up as she sat on the barstool, turning to watch the sea of drunken people congregated together.

Then she saw him.

His jet black hair was tossed carelessly into a ponytail, much longer than when she last saw him. His height gave him an advantage over the crowd as he maneuvered through them, spotting her with ease. A full frown spread across his face, clearly irritated being around loud music and sweaty bodies at this time of night. Dark brows, complimented by wrinkles etched deep on his forehead, contrasted against his skin. She couldn’t read him. His eyes were empty as he looked at her, nodding his head towards the entrance. Wordlessly informing her that it was time to leave.

Not wanting to make the night difficult, she attempted to make her exit. Her head spun and heavy eyelids obstructed her vision. Roman followed not too far behind her. As they made their way outside, she stumbled, catching herself on the door frame. A long tattooed arm peeked into her peripheral vision. She shook the thought of him catching her out of her head. He had yet to say two words to her. She tried to regain her focus, eyes scanning the street for the familiar midnight black sedan.

“This way.” His voice came from behind her.

She turned her head to see him walking towards a black SUV. The headlights flashed as he unlocked the doors from the key fob. He opened the door for her, surprising her more than it should have. Roman was always a gentleman. She struggled to lift herself into the seat, limbs weak. Her legs swung into the vehicle and she let her head rest against the seat.

Roman watched her closely as she got in the car, closing the door behind her before making his way to the driver’s side. He followed suit, shutting his own door before looking over at her. Her eyes were closed, possibly in an attempt to sober up. The small button on the right side of the wheel lit up as he stepped on the brake, pushing it to start the car.

The silence during the car ride was overwhelming. Roman pulled the car in her driveway before shifting the gear to park. No one moved to speak first. Her eyes finally opened, head turning to look at him. He remained stoic. Face completely blank though his side profile was still nothing less than stunning. With liquid courage still lingering in her veins, her mouth opened to speak. “Ro-”

“Why now.” His voice reverberated off the black leather seats.

Her body tensed, finally understanding what he meant. . Emotions hit her simultaneously. Remorse. Love. Regret. Like that pivotal night years ago, it was, once again, all too much.

“I can’t right now Roman.” She slurred.

“Oh now you can’t talk? But your drunk ass can call me at 2:30 in the morning after not saying nothin’ for two years?” The betrayal of his true feelings finally spilled out of him. She watched his grip around the wheel tighten.

“I called you for weeks after you walked out and you never called me back. Hell, Naomi tried to talk to you about it in person and you dismissed her too. You completely erased me out of your life, and for what?” he continued. His voice carried as he turned to face her.

Tears welled in her eyes, a knife piercing through her chest. “I never erased you.” She swallowed back the taste of bile; not knowing if it was from her drunkenness alone or fear of it speaking for her

“You left.” The slight crack in his voice almost went unnoticed.

‘I had to.’ She thought. The words lodged in her throat fought to escape and her insobriety wielded the key.

“I know I made a lot of mistakes Ro, but I love you-”

“Man is this a joke? You love me?” His bewildered eyes stared at her in disbelief. “You don’t get to say that, not after all this time. You don’t just walk out on someone you love. You don’t- you don’t abandon them for two years after they get down on one knee and tell you that you’re the person they want to spend forever with.”

“Then why’d you answer my call?” She challenged. “Why, after all this time, haven’t you moved on with your life?”

“Because when I said those words to you, I meant it. I never stopped caring about your wellbeing. I’ll always make sure you’re good.” He let out a heavy sigh, looking down.

“I’m just not in love with you anymore.”

There it went; the cage around her heart.

Shattering.

Piece by piece.

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a/n: whew YALL. this took forever and a day to post. adulting been whooping my ass but fuck it we ball!

it’s a bit of in abrupt end ik but let me know what yall think! feedback is always appreciated!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x reader #thedesireds x roman reigns

[uraandri]

as much as i love being a city girlie i need to experience all weather combinations while surrounded by pine forests at my local cementery or i start going insane

#early autumn days when it's still sunny but not too hot as well as cold autumn days where the forest shields you from the harsh wind #early winter fog and unexpected winter rain #deep snow and frost and horrible winter mud that forms when the temperatures rises above 0 for a few days #early spring mud after the snow melts and after the thunderstorms of march pass #first spring flowers where you wish the forest wasn't shielding you from the wind #the white of fallen petals from blossomed trees that grew between the graves when the sun starts hurting your eyes #early summer heats dampened by the forests shadow #august heatwaves where nothing helps and when the shadows are never long nor cool enough #but the clouds carrying the summer storms always float beautifuly over the pine trees #i hate going to the cementary #but i have to go or i start falling apart mentaly #something something man needs nature more than nature needs man #ura.txt