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birdmenmanga · 2 months

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@raventhekittycat

hi okay so I've been mulling this one over for the past day or two and I think I have the answer. not to be using hamburger to explain anything to an american but you're my detco mutual so I'm going to try and explain it in detco terms

There's a post going around recently about how if you've read detco and only detco, the first time hakuba shows up you're going to be totally flummoxed, because damn this guy is clearly important, he gets to be even cooler than Shinichi, he's got a half-page shot of him (in such a panel-dense series such as Detective Conan, no less!!) and he's got a fucking hawk. he's CLEARLY important. everything about the narrative is indicating that you need to PAY ATTENTION to hakuba and that he's the coolest guy and he's important!!!! and then he dies in the case lol (not for real. but still.)!! and you're like huh??? what was that. why did aoyama do that.

But with the context of magic kaito this totally makes sense. He's a beloved character that people have been waiting decades to see again. Of course Aoyama is going to hype him up!! It's his big moment after years of being locked in the backrooms!!!

Anyways reading birdmen for me was kind of like that. The author's previous series, Kekkaishi, was pretty one-dimensional at the beginning, and even after the main plot started picking up at around volume 6, it still felt quite understandable. I knew what she was trying to get at, and the spectacular job she did with the anthropocene and climate change metaphor towards the end of that series really made me interested in the rest of her works. That and the way she writes familial relationships is absolutely DEVASTATING. (I mean this with the highest of praise)

But when I read BIRDMEN for the first time, I was probably in... middle school, maybe? And I read it, sure, but I didn't get it. I could see what was literally happening on the page but the narrative choices were absolutely baffling at times. Why skip over the entire part of the plot where they figure out who the birdman that saved them was? She blatantly doesn't care about that. What does she care about then?? I knew I didn't get it, I knew there were parts of it that were important and I couldn't figure out why and THAT'S how it dug its pretty little claws into me. Even after I finished catching up it nagged at me a little bit, not often at all, but enough that every once in a while I go, huh, right, that was a thing, let me go read it again.

For the record this type of story haunting has happened to me twice. First time was the Heart of Thomas, second time was BIRDMEN. I think the thing is that these are both stories which are not what other people say they are and I think I came into both of these stories with a misconception, trying to look too hard for things that weren't important and therefore missing the things that were.

Because sure, BIRDMEN is about mental illness. Yeah, it's about an evil scientific organization growing mutants in a lab. Yeah, it's about what it means to leave your humanity behind. That's all technically correct, on a surface level, and the fandom at large likely agrees with these takes for the most part, but in my opinion none of that really delves into what the thematic messaging of the story is about.

There are cryptic conversations about authority and human extinction and peculiar outfit and ability choices. You can tell these choices weren't made to serve the purpose of "writing exciting shonen manga" because that was what she did for the most part in Kekkaishi and you can tell she wasn't putting her whole pussy into doing that here. So what was she doing? What's like. All of this. Waves my hands at this.

The short answer is that it's really about the interplay between capitalism (represented by humanity) and communism (represented by birdmen), and explores the role institutional white supremacy (EDEN) plays in enforcing capitalism. It is ALSO about queer liberation and the importance of community, but hey, that double-stacks conveniently with the communism metaphor.

But also take this opinion of mine with a grain of salt. As far as I know I'm the only one who really truly deeply believes that it is not only AN interpretation of the work, but one that was fully intended by the author.

So basically, I like it, because I think it says something true and beautiful that I also believe in, even if I didn't have the words for it the first time I read it. But I don't really think that's what people really look for in a media recommendation.

Do I like it? Yes, I love it. Will I recommend it to others? Yeah, sure. But do I think it's deeply flawed? Yeah, absolutely. It's flawed in the same ways as The Witch from Mercury— a rushed ending, too many threads that were opened and never tied together. The pacing and characterization is perfect in the beginning, and too rushed at the end. There are prerequisites you basically HAVE to read in order to understand the story (tempest for G-Witch and the communist manifesto for birdmen). I think a truly good story wouldn't have any of these things so if people don't like it I never blame them.

It's my personal experiences that make birdmen so profound to me. If you are not queer I just don't think Eishi coming out as a birdman to his mom will hit the same, just as an example. Sorry that I wasn't the kid you wanted me to be. I know you love me and you just want the best for me and that's why you're so controlling, because you think I can be saved by conforming to societal expectations. But I can't live like that. I can't be like that. And that's why I must go. etc.

Aesthetically I do love birdmen a lot. If I had to describe it in a few words it would probably be "chilling", "beautiful", and "powerful", which nicely coincides with the type of things I personally like to draw. It's also silly to a small degree but it's so serious and I know Tanabe can be way way way funnier (read kekkaishi for this. kekkaishi and hanazakari no kimitachi he were foundational to my sense of sequential art humor) so that's not really the standout trait of this series.

I can't let it go because I'm chewing this series like a bone. And it's taking me years but I am getting that sweet sweet marrow. By god. We are on year 3 of this shit and I am GOING to understand this series. and I'm going to make 3 video essays about it

#just thinking thoughts...#stray bird thoughts #so it's like... I don't like it because birdmen is good #I think I like it because I am a certain type of person and the author was trying to say something specifically to the type of person I am #OH #I'M THE TARGETED AUDIENCE THATS WHY I LIKE IT.#YEAH THATS REALLY IT!!!#A long time ago I said that birdmen wasn't written for the people who read it at the time it serialized.#it was written for the people they would become.#and I stand by that 100%#if it really stays with you there is going to be a reason even if you can't articulate it yet #and it may APPEAR sloppy to someone who doesn't see the queer or communist metaphor #like 'what is she doing what is she saying here she's not saying anything meaningful and emphasizing the wrong things'#but that sort of presumes she is gunning to make 'the best shonen manga ever'#which she clearly isn't.#I remember when I was reading fma with a bunch of my classmates and I'd lend them a volume or two every day #and a piece of feedback I received that has stuck with me was 'volume 15 was so boring'#(that was the volume recounting the ishval civil war. it was boring because we were middle schoolers and didn't REALLY get it.)#and like. I think to people who are looking for something like kks. the whole thing is going to feel like fma volume 15 #like WHAT is she going on about? ? ?#like witch hat and dunmesh I think are similar types of stories but I think these two are just executed way better than bm #but because of that it is just not as compelling to me you know.#like yeah yeah it's well constructed. we all see it's well constructed.#the metaphor is so well constructed that I don't feel the need to point it out. everyone is saying it already you know #but bm is cryptic enough and just slightly missed that execution enough that I feel like I'm pulling the analysis out of a smoking wreckage #recently I've been watching mentourpilot videos about airplane accidents and like. that's exactly it.#there's nothing to say about a perfectly executed flight.#it's the ones that failed. and in particular the ones that just barely failed by a little bit. that compels people the most.#cue my de communism is failure post. bc that bm sure did fail.

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mrburnsnuclearpussy · 7 months

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#all you have to create is something about skinny white men in love and everyone will care about you and them #anything else is just nothing to you ppl lol #what’s the point of trying to be an artist I swear I just wanna give up coz I can’t create enough finished art in general #WHY CANT I DRAW LIKE I DID WHEN I WAS A KID. it felt so easy and now I’m scared to do it for no reason ugh!!#i wish I was interested in the same things as everyone else coz at least then the quality wouldn’t matter and people would care anyway #sorry I know this comes across as really childish and mean and yeh it is I’m just venting #coz sometimes I look at certain popular profiles and stuff and it makes me ache coz I’ll never be a part of the big club where you can feel #love and I’ll never be able to coz I’m just a robot thing with no humanity!!!#even the LITERAL ROBOT is still reduced in the fandom to being shipped like just fuck off all of you #one of my bigger recent passion Roberts is a story and even when I have some motivation and energy I just remember that literally not a sing #single person on earth has any reason to care about it and why should they! so I just feel like crawling into a hole and sulking like a piss #pissbaby which is what I’m doing lol #just because it’s not about young skinny men and the ‘purity/beauty/divinity/superiority of romantic love </3’ and #and YUMMY SQUISHY ORGANIC RED PASSIONATE things because illl never be a part of all of that anyway #I’m not amazing I don’t have the inherent drama and meaningfulness of romantic love in me as a potential so I’m basically nothing #my life means nothing because i can’t feel the one thing that matters #-(one thing that matters according to the world and like all communities and societies and any place to feel like you’re a part of somethin #)#and if your broken (empty of romantic love) like me you’re told to go play by yourself in the corner and not complain that #everyone else gets to be in the group #‘just do your own thing it doesn’t matter what society thinks’ is well meaning and <3 but for me I just hear ‘don’t be a part of us’#what if I want to be a part of something? what if I want society to know and understand me?

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weaselishmcdiesel · 1 year

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RRAR

#guess whos unlucky ass got classes with the single person from this semester who i didnt like. again. for next semester #not a bad person. not a bad person no not at all. in fact they are very kind and friendly and inclusive.#i. do not like being included. in fact i like when people respect that i like being left alone. i love when people respect that #THIS ONE DOES NOT RESPECT THAT #remember that post i made? about how being a fujoshi is a bad thing? i made that post. because this person. used that term. at me.#i am. a gay PERON. yes i STILL LOOK VERY FEMALE YES I GET THAT NO I DONT HAVE TO EXPLAIN WHY IM NOT A FUJOSHI OR EVEN A WOMAN #nearly every time this person interacts with me (none of them initiated by yours truly) something fucking uncomfortable happens.#and i know. i know in my heart of hearts. that theyre trying their best. but i get so tired of overly nice people i know thats my own issue #another thing i hate is fake compliments. i really hate them. i never give shallow compliments to peoples work like a LOOKS GOOD not even #i ALWAYS take the time to consume the work and think about it before i give MEANINGFUL compliments. always #many MANY TIMES this person has like passed by my computer or whatever and WITHIN SECONDS said ‟woah that looks really good!‟#wh. n. you #you looked at it for nary a minute. id rather you said nothing at all #again. i KNOW im being dramatic you should know that i know this. i know theyre being polite and im being a baby #but. another. fucking semester. with this person #i really fucking cant #i was looking forward to the next semester because there would be new people since i didnt vibe with my class from this semester #lo and FUCKING behold. the worst person from this semester is going to be my classmate AGAIN #fuck fuck fuck i am so whiny i know i know i know i am. but FUCK dude college is stressful enough.#(... it helps that their art... doesnt look good aksjdhf but you didnt hear me say that)#weasel speaks #asks!

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theonevoice · 7 months

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Have a gold star...

I swear, I started this as a wholesome innocent comment on how when Crowley has to think of a prize, after 6000+ years, his sweet head still goes to stars as the ultimate symbol of something beautiful and cherished.

But then I was struck by something: sarcasm.

Both times, when he tells someone to "have a gold star," he doesn't say it with a tone of affectionate irony, like the cool-but-sweet uncle with a rough personality but a soft heart. He says it with a tone of bitter sarcasm, of painful disenchantment.

Because it's not a prize that he is offering; it's a sop, a cruel joke-gift, something that will get you excited at first just because you have a stupid, naive, innocent soul, and you will later realize that it means nothing to the one who assigned it to you, and that they are ready to take it away whenever they want, while the rest of the world laughs at your ridiculous gullibility.

Because this is what stars were for him.

They were his beloved, exciting creation. The star-factory nebula was his cherished task, assigned to him by God, and he believed that it was meant to be a thing of beauty and splendor, and hold value in the grand scheme of the universe... only to discover, immediately after he created it, that it was never intended to have any value at all. It meant nothing to God. It wasn't even planned to last enough to fullfill its purpose. It was a joke, a cruel prank.

The stars were God's bad pun of giving angel!Crowley something to do, and love, and have hope and expectations for, and then taking it away. Revealing that it was just a shiny piece of gold cardstock that only a simpleton could consider valuable. Of course he can only say "have a gold star" as a dry snarky sarcastic comment on someone who thinks they have achieved something meaningful when it's actually nothing. Be it the Them defeating the Four Horsemen. Be it Muriel being noticed by the Metatron.

Great, sure, have a gold star, be all excited and squealing with happiness, it will turn into ashes before you even know it.

I am not sure that Crowley's snake eyes were ever intended to signal that he cannot see the stars because snakes have bad vision (even ignoring the zoological fact that they are sensitive to UV light though, so they should still see astronomical objects, in the book it says that demons must be able to see at night, and that's why Crowley doesn't need to turn on the lights on the Bentley), but for sure the Fall and Heaven's cruelty has ruined the stars for him, in a way.

Now, in his mind, they are the ultimate symbol of delusion, of naivety, of foolishly investing your love and passion and hopes in something, of stupidly ignoring that the things you cherish will be ruined or taken away from you or leave you on their own accord.

That's also why Aziraphale's "nothing lasts forever" cuts him so deep. That's why his "no... no, I dont' suppose it does" sounds so much like a truth that he is remembering instead of one that he has jsut discovered.

Here you go, you did it again, you thought you had something significant and instead it was just like your stars, you should have known that whenever you find something beautiful it's just a matter of time before you lose it, you shouldn't get too attached.

In s1e6 he says it to the Them, in s2e6 he says it to Muriel. I do hope that in s3e6 he will get the chance to say it again, but this time it will be honest and out of joy, because whatever is going to happen will make him able again to believe that you can be happy, and can hold onto the good things that you love. You can have all the gold stars, for real. They don't always have to disappear and leave you in pain. They can stay with you.

#he's still the starmaker deep down #have a gold star #good omens #good omens 2 #go2 #crowley #aziraphale #good omens thoughts #go2 spoilers #go 2 speculation #good omens 2 spoilers

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reddpenn · 1 year

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I got a Geiger counter!

Let’s look through my collection for some Spicy Rocks! I’ve never deliberately collected radioactive specimens, so I have no idea what I’m going to find.

First, though, let’s test the baseline level of radiation in my house.

It’s fun to hear the Geiger counter click as it detects radiation. 20 counts per minute. Nice! You’re unlikely to ever see a count of zero, as pretty much everything in the world, including the human body, gives off a little bit of radiation.

20 is a normal baseline, nothing to be concerned about. Standing in my house, I’m getting a radiation dose of about 0.00013 milliseieverts per hour - or a little over one mSv a year. This is an average yearly dosage of radiation for people in my country, and is something my body can easily process. For context, a dosage of 100 mSv would slightly increase my risk of cancer, and a dosage of 1000 mSv would immediately give me radiation sickness.

But enough about these boring, safe amounts of radiation. I want to see some spice! Let’s check over by the Rock Wall!

Hm, I’d expected the CPM to be noticeably higher around my rock collection, but I’m getting nothing! Even testing each individual rock, nothing’s more than a few ticks above the baseline. So far, my fancy new toy is looking like wasted money. :c

WAIT! THERE!! 62 CPM! That’s three times higher than the base reading in the rest of my house!!! YESSS!! THIS ROCK IS SPICY!!!!

Here’s the rock that’s setting off my Geiger counter. (Yes I’m touching the spicy rock with my bare hands, don’t worry about it.)

This fossil, which is as big as my head, is part of the femur bone of a Megalonyx, a North American giant ground sloth!

These huge animals could grow as big as ten feet tall. They lived alongside humans during the last ice age, and it’s theorized that humans may have hunted them to extinction. This particular fossil was found in a phosphate mine!

Why is it radioactive? Because... sometimes fossils are just radioactive! They spend a lot of time in the ground, which is full of radioactive minerals, and often radiation just gets all up in there. There are some fossils on display in museums which are so radioactive that they have to be coated with lead paint for the safety of curators and museum-goers! Compared to those, this femur bone is barely radioactive at all.

So is it really safe for me to have this in my house, much less handle it with my bare hands? Well, yeah! Remember, despite having this spicy rock in my collection, the radiation baseline in my house is completely normal. Here’s why.

Even just a few centimeters away from this specimen, the Geiger counter’s reading is halved. A few inches away, and it can’t detect any radiation at all. It basically has to be directly touching the rock to get an abnormal reading. Which means I also have to be touching the rock to receive a meaningful amount of radiation exposure.

But even holding this rock in my hands, I’m only getting a dosage of about 0.0004 mSv per hour. If I never let go of this rock for an entire year, I would get a dose of about 3.5 mSv. Which is... still completely within the safe threshold for my body to process. Nothing to worry about!

Man, I gotta start collecting some spicier rocks.

#rock collecting #red pen has cool rocks #fossils #north american giant ground sloth #geiger counter #radiation

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anantaru · 11 months

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— taking care of his wounds

including xiao, scaramouche, diluc, childe x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & angst, crack, mentions of blood, sweet n cute

— xiao

"you do not have to do this."

"but i want to!"

deep down inside, it was imperatively embarrassing for xiao to have you mend his wounds and scratches— especially considering the fact that you were seeing him this way for once, a shelter of vulnerability and weakness, as he always seem to put it.

a good for nothing who cannot even be strong enough to defend himself, let alone the person he fell in love with.

keep in mind, you were very much aware of your boyfriend and his cruel views on himself, precisely the hurting words chosen by him, which he would insult himself with on a daily basis.

as punishment? one can only guess or say that much, but there was a translucent underlining that only a handful of people were able to take a grasp on.

"and you‘re my boyfriend xiao." that happiness in your voice, he couldn't get enough of it. but you always add the right words into the mix, catching a bolstering blush on xiao‘s handsome face the sweet moment he picks up your chosen name for him.

'boyfriend' was he worthy of such a name? he shivered, it took all his self control to not run off from this vulnerable moment.

"i‘m also worried." and you sigh so sweetly against him, melting your skilled fingers into his flesh and filling all the cold emptiness within his heart. "i don't want you to worry." his voice almost breaks in midst his sentencing but it's low, his words mumbled, "you could find someone better than me."

it's a graven fear the man held for what felt like an eternity. to see you leave one day due to his weaknesses.

because every time he experiences you taking care of him, yes, xiao does turn embarrassed— his eyes twinkling open wild, but he feels that static, as if he could actually reach the heavens behind the sky.

he suddenly hisses when you began to wrap a small cloth around a bigger wound on his hand, sneakily sealing your lips over his roughened up knuckles to kiss each and every one of them.

"there will never be someone better than you, xiao."

— scaramouche

"how childish."

scaramouche's face was mounted in a discomforting tinge while he gazed at the cute, little, not to mention pink, band aids covering the majority of his face and chest. "shut up."

you shake your head, laughing at your boyfriend's bright, assessing eyes while he hopelessly attempted to wholly conceal the agonizing pain bound within his facial features, keeping them in check with a hard look, brows criss crossed and squeezed together, "you're using too many of those."

"i wouldn't have to if there weren't that many scratches all over you."

but above and beyond, there it was; a crucial, meaningful expression that sneakily slipped past his own eyes— your current state, when you lock away the smallest amount of warm tears glinting nervously, finishing it with a soft smile, not wanting to make scaramouche feel even worse.

what confused you, and, frankly, scared you in the first place was the severe rarity of this situation— it was uncommon for him to get this beat up, this littered up with scratches and bumps, you can still remember the mere seconds earlier, when he showed up in front of your door step— dirty clothes ruptured and ripped, his bottom lip popped open and blood sliding down his chin, eyes low lidded, barely any life behind them.

by all means, scaramouche was doing better now, with the help of you and your quick responses doing wonders. needless to say did he too, catch a glimpse of your distress when you suddenly had stopped mending his wounds.

"hey." he pokes your left cheek, once, twice— "hey," and his comforting, warm voice ever so softly slips past your ears.

"i'll be okay, besides, i will take it as an insult if you think that is enough to end me."

and judging by the hitch of your breath, scaramouche felt a rambling burn deep inside, at nothing but that distraught look on your person. He opens his eyes wide, steady as glass, before sloping his head towards you, a faint, transient smile lightening his bruised face when you lean in to kiss his lips, tenderly, but compelling enough to lift the worry off your shoulders.

— diluc

patience— and the adequate plenitude of pressure were the very two notions you had channeled tonight, with your trembling hands slowly dapping the blood off diluc‘s injuries.

you truly cannot remember the last time he had shown any signs of recklessness in his usual behavior when it came to fending of intruders, so whatever must‘ve happened today had to be of graven importance or a powerful enemy catching him off guard.

"thank you." he suddenly speaks, but averts his eyes, and although his voice was raspy and chill, diluc managed to quickly snap you out of your stinging thoughts. you move to his face, tilting his chin up to catch an ideal view on the main bruises around his left cheek, allowing you to tackle those as well, "for doing this i mean."

at his words, you stop your hand, smiling serenely, almost angelic.

"you don't have to thank me for this."

"—but, do you want to tell me about what happened?"

diluc's face twitches when you retorted back to brush a splotch of dried blood from his jaw— you noticed how his lip was busted open, this thought again, of someone hurting the love of your life, it compared to sharp needles jabbing at your skin, over and over until drilled in its entirety.

but he didn't, diluc would never tell you about anything dangerous, not even when he showed up to your home, looking like that. "i rather not." there it was, that brave smile he'd manage to put on whenever he found himself in a situation like that, regardless, worry gnawed away at you, your gaze piercing through him like a freezing blast of ice.

"yet worry not." all of his attention was on you as he slants close to take your cheeks in his roughened palms, feeling them shake against your skin awakened a murky, dull feeling where you wanted to just cry in his arms, "i'd never let someone hurt you."

sigh, deep down, you wonder if diluc will ever comprehend that seeing him like that was already hurting you, was already pulling the hot air off your seized throat and clenching your heart with dread, feeling as if you could not breathe.

instead, you smile kindly at him, foreheads resting against each other, overcome by a dark sense of silence.

— childe

"hah! you should see the other guy!"

excessive boasting upon boasting, your sweet childe was out here acting like he had just experienced the best day in his entire life— a certain smile, brighter than ever witnessed before, if it wasn‘t for his black eye and bloody nose breaking the illusion he attempted to portray.

however, in contrast, childe found it exceedingly cute and appealing whenever you were severely worried and concerned about him— as is someone was ever able to greatly harm nor scratch the overenthusiastic harbinger. "you really shouldn‘t be this reckless sometimes."

you sigh deeply, then shake your head, mending the bigger wounds with a wet cloth first so they were clean and ready to be wrapped up.

but, important side note, you being brightly concerned for him made his heart flutter unexpectedly and childe suddenly expels a large wave of pride, "but you love it when i'm reckless."

"i do not."

"you don't?!" his smirk fades.

"i want you to be save." you kiss the corner of his mouth, and a vast deal of weariness sweeps over you, claiming your energy with it when you remember that this wasn't possible.

ajax was a harbinger after all.

his voice, now thick of seriousness, greets you closely, "don't worry about me." he speaks so idly, listlessly and without a care in the world, as if he doesn't care about his own wellbeing. and it left a bitterness littering on the tip of your tongue.

"because as long as you have everything in your life, i too will be fulfilled." with that, childe kisses you, all around passionate, needful and telling. on the assumption that he longed to show you his determination to protect you in a different way than solely using his own choice of words.

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goldsbitch · 15 days

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Hypochondria

The emotions and glimpses of daily life of this random girl followed Lando throughout his whole. Whenever she's sad, he knows. Her celebrations sort of become his celebrations. For him, it's like breathing - just another part of his life. That is until he meets her.

soulmate au

Lando knew the moment he saw her. And it was at that point when he thought he was truly going crazy.

For his whole life, he thought it was just some fantasy that he planted in his mind in early age and was impossible to get rid off.

He froze completely. Panicked, went into fight or flight mode, these two fighting each other so hard that he just stood there, staring like a creep. Thank god she was far away enough and probably did not notice.

His second immediate reaction was anger. Did she really not notice him? The audacity? How can she roam around his brain for his whole life and then not react when she sees him? Her being in the paddock meant that she definitely knew who he was, people don't just end up by chance there.

Except maybe she did. Her outfit gave away that she was one of the medics from the medical team. Of course she would be. Saving lives, doing something proper meaningful. Not driving around in circles and making a big deal out of it, like he did. Never in his life did he feel as selfish and sort of shameful for his choice of career.

He began to insert ideas into her head, despite not having spoken a single word to her. She was probably someone who valued intelligence, people who were book smart, humble heroes in the society who were focus on dedicating their lives to saving others.

Not those who were recklessly driving around in circles. There was no way she'd see him fit to her. That was not going to stop him. Her being one of the medics provided a great opportunity. Hypochondria? So be it.

His mind was spiraling out of control.

For as long as he could remember, he had dreams (and something he would not dare call visions) about this one girl. As if he was watching glimpses of her life, little moments, bits and pieces. But it was almost constant. He was so used to it at this point that he found it relaxing. It was very confusing growing up. Every adult around him was freaking out when his childhood imaginary friend phase would just not go away. So once he realized that people were thinking he's weird, he just stopped talking about it. It was also a big revelation to him when he found out that other people did not have these visions in their head so intensively. When he was 17 he had an obsession phase, where he researched the fuck out of how brains worked, but nothing seemed to match. His dreams did not provide him with anything specific, no details about place, vague signs that this person he kept seeing at least lived in the same time frame as he did. It was little things he saw and felt, as if her emotions traveled to him. He'd seen her happy, laughing with friends while she tried weed for the first time, getting nervous by her exams and debating whether to brush her teeth in the evening. Her becoming a medic now finally answered few questions. Often he would wonder why was she studying so much. His blurry dreams blocking these specifics out, just to make it all more frustrating. Observing her having a a crush on someone was unnerving and eventually, seeing little things from her romantic relationship just made him supremely mad. He was glad that was over, because at one point, it had started to seriously mess up his mood. He genuinely celebrated the break up. Incredible amounts of little moments and details that were conveyed to him, but no idea on where or who she was. He just had this knowledge in his head about someone who he doubted actually existed.

And now she was probably standing right across the track. It was a lot to take in.

Most of the medical team traveled with them, as far as Lando was aware. Never really paid that much of attention to that department until then. So he figured he's only have few days to capture her attention, she might have been local. He was already contemplating moving here to join her life. That's when he decided to get a full medical check up upon request.

He complained nonstop about a pain in his stomach - vague enough for many possibilities having to be ruled out.

It quickly started feeling like playing a video game. Having to jump through levels in order to get to his "boss".

He spent an hour in the medical centre, where he was taken immediately after his first comment about his fictional pain, because everyone still had in fresh memory the saga of Carlos's appendix. "This is gonna be easy" he thought to himself, because one of the first people he saw passing by was her. He was not even trying to hide when observing her. The way her hair fell out of a messy bun. A concentrated look as she was attending one of the staff members, listening attentively and taking care of their wound. The whole place seemed to glow up by her presence. He wondered how it felt when her fingertips touched the skin of another person and was almost jealous of the person she was treating. On par with his bad luck, the drivers had a dedicated doctor on call, so he was taken to a different private room where he had to undergo a full medical scan, with of course nothing being found. When he got out, she was no longer there. All for nothing.

The rest of his day was covered in a brain fog, he sort of floated through the media day, feeling like he was not really there. He let Oscar totally step up to be the main star this time. As if he could give a fuck.

Over the years of having to life with this strange connection, he managed to block it out temporarily for moment when he really need to focus. This time, he was doing the exact opposite. Trying to somehow "connect" to this personal bluetooth he had in his head.

Finally, after few hours he felt something. A light wave of anxiety, as she opened her email. Then a wave of disappointment, despair and her giving up. He was more than able to not get affected by her emotions - usually. This time it was sort of in tune with his own mix of emotions, so if he was a downer before it progressed perfectly into him shutting off completely.

He managed to completely forget that his latest girlfriend, if that was the right word to use, was coming over. He only realized when he saw a pair of female shoes thrown by the door of his hotel room. A wave of guilt washed over him. He was being an asshole again. As they greeted each other, he tried to kiss her as much as he could, trying to avoid unnecessary conversation. Maybe this reality check was good. He often got lost in his own head, listening sad song to fill this strange void - or he would party too much. Now, there was a real person standing in front of him, a super hot girl who liked him and was not annoying. He figured there was no point in drowning in his own delusions.

Letting her fuck his brains out worked, at least until the next morning.

part 2

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Note

Can you write something about yaoshi?thou their design is very pretty (⁠●⁠’⁠3⁠)⁠♡⁠(⁠ε⁠`⁠●⁠)

Let's say we're their fav human/god

I hope this makes sense

We don’t know much about the Aeons yet, so don’t expect this to be an accurate representation of what Yaoshi acts like. I’ll give ya two versions (human and aeon reader).

(YANDERE?) YAOSHI x READER (ft. Other Aeons)

warnings: ddne, mind break, power imbalance, massive age gap & infantilization(for the human section), yandere themes in general, somnophillia.

note: from what i read in yaoshi’s lore what i wrote feels like something the canon character would do hence the question mark

status: unedited

STORY ONE : TO LIVE IN ABUNDANCE | Doctor ! Reader

Yaoshi could not fathom why one would not wish for eternal life. Life was the most beautiful thing in existence. Wondrous, with a diversity one could not begin to imagine. Yet, there exists people who desire for existence to come to a halt, many who wish for their teachings and gifts to end.

You were one of those people.

Despite your occupation as a doctor, you believed that every patient had a right to choose their destiny. Whether it be to continue fighting for their lives or to die peacefully in their death beds, who were you to decide what happens to them? You were only the nurturer and provider. Even the best doctor in their field has to let go of a patient when it came down to it. For life is only beautiful, meaningful when it has to diminish one day.

And in spite of your beliefs, Yaoshi decided to bless you to join him in his path.

Your world was shaken.

Why were you of all people chosen by this Aeon?

Sure, you were fully dedicated to career. But if anything, your views were more aligned to the Archer Lord of Fate. You have had many Mara strucken, the victims of Yaoshi’s ‘gifts’, pass away before your very eyes. Beasts who have long lost their minds and ability to choose what future they’ll follow. If you had a choice, without a heartbeat

Several millenia pass with you never aging. Generals that ruled come and go.

And now, because of their so-called kindness, you were banished from Xianzhou. Your home. Thrusted into the embrace of space and void,

and none other than the Aeon that doomed you.

“Child. You have come home at last.”

II.

If you were born into a different culture, perhaps a planet that worshipped the Aeon before you, maybe then you would be elated with your current happenstance.

But this was not the case unfortunately.

You spend around a decade filled with hatred and anger. Hurling the most venomous words and even attempting to harm their being. Of course, none of your actions do anything to help your situation.

A century was spent trying to convince them to let you go, to rescind their blessing and leave you to live your life as a mortal.

They refused, stating that it would saddened them to lose you.

It gets close to another century with how long you spent in tears. For the loss of your loved ones that had left you to go to the afterlife. For the situation you were forced into. As you cried and cried, all Yaoshi could do was embrace you using their many arms. It was a peculiar feeling at first but unfortunately became comforting soon enough.

And after all that you finally gave in.

Yaoshi did not seem surprised at all. In fact what awaited your complete acceptance was a gentle smile. One akin to a parent seeing their child come back home after running away in a fit.

“We can finally begin the preparations.”

“For what?” Your voice, hoarse and abused by your depressed barely came out.

“For our wedding.”

iii.

You were used to their multi-armed touches, their inhuman way of showing affection towards you. But nothing could prepare you for the consummation.

You don’t remember anything. Throughout the whole process you were extremely disassociated to the point of being catatonic.

This, this was your life now. Stuck to a god as a human who has far outlived their expiration date. Slowly yet surely your mind corroded.

And even as your body was littered with the golden allure of ginkgo leaves, your freedom never came.

Yaoshi did end up releasing you from their grasp to roam the cosmos freely. People from all over the universe called you the Golden Wanderer, or the Sanctus Medicus Saint.

But what was the point?

Even with your endless fame and immortality. You were a dead man walking.

Waiting, hoping, that one day someone would grant you mercy a god of life and everything beautiful in it could not.

STORY TWO : TO DIE IN THE LIGHT | AEON OF DREAMS - IMAGINARY ELEMENT ! READER

In the time humanity and civilizations began to rise. You were created within the womb of the universe representing a concept. Dreams. Though you most presided over preferable ones, you were known to give unending nightmares to those that slighted you and your domain.

In the grand scheme of Aeons, you were neutral. Never straying from the unbiased perspective of a god. Those that worshipped and favored you get rewarded, those that dirtied your name were punished.

For that you were often looked down upon by your fellow gods, seen as indecisive with your head literally and figuratively stuck in the clouds.

Yaoshi used to be one of them. They had a difficult time understanding how one could live without ever peeling their eyes to the grandiose aesthetics of the world.

They soon began to fall in love with your fair — beautiful and impartial — self.

And if those mara-struck beings were anything to go off of . . .

Their infatuation spelt your doom.

ii.

There you were. Your form shone brilliantly under the light of the moons and stars that seemed to dangle above you.

Even a god snored, and snored you did. But to Yaoshi this hoarse sound was music. No, even more than that.

It was a reminder that throughout the eons, you two are alive. Together. Breathing.

Yaoshi visited your slumbering body frequently to the point that it became a risk. That Lan would sometimes stand guard over you in case they would come, or have the Xianzhou oversee your vicinity. Not many mortals can hold up against the Aeon however, and if it meant having to go against their path in order to see you — the choice was obvious.

Their stays mostly consisted of performing lullabies and poetry of how both your and their followers adored your seemingly romantic partnership, to your blissfully unaware body.

At least that’s what they thought.

iii.

Contrary to popular belief, your most devoted of followers do not eternally sleep. Nor do the majority spend a lot of their sleeping. In order to spread your name, a lot chose to stay awake. Because if there was anything your true followers loved more than a good nap it was you.

As such, not known to many people or gods, you had a vast network of knowledge. A lot of what people learn and experience appear in dreams, and once the more fantastical ones were taken off the list, you were left with a near infinite amount of information.

Humans have also mastered a way of communion with you.

Case in point, you had long known about Yaoshi’s visits. You were the one that asked Lan to aid you. Breaking your self imposed rule of impartiality.

But all is for naught.

Misinformation had spread far too wide and the delusions Yaoshi infected the world with overpowered your truth.

Their acquisition of you was as tranquil and hurdle free as it could be.

While you were caged by Yaoshi, another Aeon swore to bring you back.

Ending life and therefore your deeply unconscious state. A state which they saw as involuntary. A cage infinitely worse than the Aeon of Harmony kept you in.

And the first Stellaron was born.

a/n: i imagine human reader, especially post yaoshi adoption, to be like a lifesteal-tank sort of abundance character. only ever healing(mostly themself) if they attack/hurt the enemy, which would go against what yaoshi wants. i might draw a design for them actually. the type that if you build well, won’t ever die. but any battle with them would take a really long time since their damage is pp in comparison to other characters at the very least.

[link to the design/drawing here if i ever finish it]

[here’s a link to another aeon related fic]

i wanted to include both versions here before i uploaded this even if the first one is so long cause i just know im never gonna write a part two if ever lol. and yes, the aeon in the last bit is nanook.

want more hsr fics/have an idea for one? send me an ask or submission ❤️

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

#yandere #yaoshi #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #nanook x reader #yandere nanook x reader #yandere aeon #yandere lan #yandere yaoshi hsr #yandere fic #yandere x you

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annawritesblog · 2 months

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You are in love(c.s.)

Summary: the story of Carlos and y/n told through you are in love by Taylor Swift.

A/N: this is for all my Carlos girlies out there. I just felt like writing something based on Taylor lyrics so here it is. I hope you like reading it just as much as I liked writing it. please remember that english is not my first language, so if soemthing's not correct, feel free to tell me. enjoy:)

One look, dark room, meant just for you Time moved too fast, you play it back Buttons on a coat, light-hearted joke No proof, not much, but you saw enough

Carlos couldn't keep his eyes off her. Y/n's body swayed to the rythym of the loud music and the Ferrari driver felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and oxytocin through his body. She looked careless and happy, like life was nothing, but pure joy. Carlos took a sip of his drink and answered a question his friend had asked him, althought he didn't pay attention to him at all.

"God, you're so hooked." His friend had said, but Carlos just shook that comment off. But in reality, he knew he was. So utterly and irreversibly.

With a smile on her face, y/n looked at her boyfriend, who was already watching her. They exchanged a meaningful look that only they understood. This made the girl think of the time they had first met. How easy and how natural it was to talk to him, all because he always had a joke on hand or a compliment which always made her blush from head to toe.

Small talk, he drives, coffee at midnight The light reflects, the chain on your neck He says, "Look up", and your shoulders brush No proof, one touch, but you felt enough

For their first Valentine's Day, not even 3 months into dating, Carlos had flown out y/n to Italy. The young girl was incredibly grateful and she couldn't get her head around all of that. And if she only knew that that was just the beggining. The f1 driver had planned a whole thing for the celebration. After picking up some coffee for the both of them, in order for y/n to fight the jet lag, they hopped in the boy's valuable Ferrari and drove off..., well somewhere. Carlos had put on a blindfold on the girl and guided her towards his surprise. The girl, once again, was speechless. Flower, champagne, dinner and candles. This, she would have called, cliché. But now that she was in a relationship like this, she was just mesmerised by all of that. On top of all those things, the spaniard had another special gift for his girlfriend. A gorgeous diamond necklace. And that was it for the girl. Her eyes filled with tears and she jumped into Carlos' arms. No words could express how grateful y/n was, although she tried but Carlos kept convincing her that he was the lucky one. Wiping away her tears, he spoke up:

"Carino, look." And he pointed towards the sky. If the night wasn't magical enough, the shooting stars made it even more magical. They stayed like that, in each other's embrace until God knows how long. That was their moment.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you You can feel it on the way home, way home, you You can see it with the lights out, lights out You are in love, true love You are in love

The first time Carlos had realized he was in love with her can't be described. He invited her to his house for a little date night in. It must've been their third date. He let y/n choose the movie and obviously she went for a rom-com. Carlos wasn't particulalry fond of those kind of movies, but he didn't care as long as she enjoyed them. The whole time he couldn't take his eyes off her. The way her shoulders rose when she laughed or how she giggled when Carlos added a funny comment. He knew that he wanted to hear that and feel what he felt then for the rest of his life. Even when they weren't talking, he could just jump around in happiness. He couldn't have explained it, but it didn't matter.

Sometimes, when he can't sleep, he thinks about their first date. How easily the conversation flew and how y/n kept saying that it was a pleasent night and she wanted to repeat it. These words kept replaying in his mind after dropping her off at her house.

Morning, his place, burnt toast, Sunday You keep his shirt, he keeps his word And for once, you let go, of your fears and your ghosts One step, not much, but it said enough

Her eyes fluttered open. It seemed way too early to be awake, so she closed her eyes and wanted to get lost in her dreams again. She couldn't though, because a pretty unpleasent smell had hit her nose. A few minutes later, the door of the bedroom opened and Carlos was juggling the tray and the coffee in his hands.

"What's all this?" She asked sleepily.

"Wanted to make you breakfast. I think it's edible." He laughed and placed the tray on her side of the bed. Because she had her own side of the bed by then. Infact, she had left skincare and clothes at his, which made him so incredibly happy.

"That is so sweet, Carlos. Thank you." Carlos sat next to her and left a little kiss on her cheek. They ate in silence but occasionally they would look at each other and smile from ear to ear.

She felt comfortable with him. She never thought that someone would make her feel this way, but here he was. Coming in her life and having such a huge impact on her. She wanted this to last forever and ever. To never let go of his hands. To always call him first when something good or bad happens. And she knew, he wanted the same. For the first time in her life, she trusted someone without a doubt, because she was sure, he wouldn't take it for granted.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Carlos asked while taking a sip of his coffee.

"Can we just stay in bed all day?" She asked and nuzzled her nose into his neck.

He smiled and placed his hand on her waist under her (his) shirt. "Sure we can, love."

You kiss on sidewalks, you fight and you talk One night he wakes, strange look on his face Pauses, then says, you're my best friend And you knew what it was He is in love

They barely fought. Mostly it was about Carlos wanting to spoil y/n with expensive gifts and y/n explaining that she does not need those things necessarily. She liked designer things, who doesn't, but she didn't want him spending so much on her. Although he said he's repaying her for all the things she had done for him. She never understood that. Apart from that, they were living in a happy and balanced relationship.

One night tho, after coming home from a friend's party, things got out of hand between them. A guy was flirting with y/n. At least from Carlos' point of view. Y/n obviously thought it was bullshit, they were just talking. She had tried to explain that to him, but he wasn't listening. He kept on telling his side of the story, how uncomfortable it was, how he wanted to interfere (which he did) and so on. There was a bit of yelling and blaming. They went to bed like that: mad, misunderstood and hurt.

Neither of them could sleep. While y/n lay still, but sleepless, Carlos was tossing and turning. Until about an hour later, when he turned the bedside lamp on.

"I'm really sorry. I overreacted." He sighed and he could see the tears in her eyes.

"Don't you trust me? I would never ever flirt with anyone. I'm with you, Carlos because I want to be with you."

"I do trust you and it was really silly of me to think you would do such things. I truly am so sorry." She could see the regret in his eyes. They weren't shining like they usually are, they were just dark and botomless. "I love you, okay? I'll never do that again." And he never did.

And so it goes You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

"Come in." Carlos shouted from his desk. His father walked in his simulator room.

"Am I bothering?" He asked looking at his son, lost in the screen of his computer.

"No, I've just finished." Carlos turned on his chair.

His father looked around the room, inspecting his trophies. He felt an immediate pride rushing through him. His son had made it. All those long hours at the track had finally paid off. He wandered around and finally stopped infront of his desk. They were a lot of nick nacks, wires and a picture frame. It was a picture of y/n and him from a while ago when they took a trip to the South of France. They were on the beach laying on sunbeds. They were tan and smiling like little kids. The two men smiled at the picture.

"I'm so glad you found her. You've changed so much since you've been with her, for the better of course." Carlos Sr. had said and patted his son's back.

"Yeah, I'm really happy." He agreed.

"I hope we can expect a wedding soon." His dad hinted. Carlos just laughed and opened a drawer. He picked up the little box and turned towards his dad.

"I hope so too." He opened up the box and inside was a beautiful diamond ring. It wasn't too flashy, knowing that y/n didn't like that, but that didn't mean it wasn't very valuable. His dad couldn't contain his excitment and hugged his son tight.

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

She was nervous. She was shaking a little aswell. Well, maybe the coffee didn't help that. Y/n took a final glance at herself in the mirror and sighed. She was looking more beautiful than ever. Happiness really suited her, tho the white didn't look too bad on her either. She looked down on her engagment ring and realized that another band will show up on her finger in just a few minutes. She took a deep breath, and fought back the tears. She is getting married to the love of her life.

In the meantime, Carlos was standing at the altar feeling more nervous than ever. What if she changed her mind? What if she ran away?

His best friend put a hand on his shoulder. Carlos looked at him and calmed down a little bit. It would be fine. And it was fine. They got married. Infront of their most loved friends and relatives.

After all those years together, the rest of their lives had just started. Long flights, sleepless nights and worries had paid off and there they were. All married up. All ready to live their happily ever after, because in the end they were just two kids who fell in love.

#f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1blr #imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #f1 x reader #Spotify

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chuluoyi · 8 months

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UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 01

✩°｡ ⋆ to be wed

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, family drama, angst to eventual fluff in later chapters, slight profanity (hopefully)

notes: in case you are wondering―no. this isn't a love triangle between you, megumi and naoya. naoya is an antagonist side piece to make this story spicier.

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony (masterlist) | prelude <- previous ✩ next -> chapter two : unholy matrimony

Megumi had known it all along, that sooner or later, his checkered past would come back to bite him.

When Gojo told him that the Zen’in had called to make him reclaim his birthright, he was at a loss for words. And when he further explained that to stake his claim he had to make his standing clear and strong by marrying a girl he barely knew, he was angry.

"I don't want a place in that Zen'in hell. Forget it, you're making no sense."

"Megumi," Gojo started, crossing his arms and looking at him with a meaningful smirk and Megumi so badly wanted to wipe it off his sensei's face. "It's yours by right. All those things you've endured until now? It's for this precise moment. They covet your Ten Shadows Technique, and so you already have an advantage against Naoya. You have the chance to save your sister, Maki and Mai from that hell."

He shot him an irritated look. "I like my current life now, why would I go back there? And how do I save Tsumiki by fighting over inheritance against Zen'in Naoya? Are you right in the head, Gojo-sensei?"

"When you have a clan as prominent as Zen'in at your disposal, you can find an easier way to break her curse," his teacher said, visibly proud with his suggestion. "And that's why I'm telling you―the Hara girl is your key for that. Naoya wants to marry her, but if you do it first, then everything is yours for the taking."

Megumi recognized you as the girl from Kyoto Jujutsu High in his school days. He remembered seeing you during the goodwill event, and the only lasting impression he had of you was that you managed to befriend Inumaki, even though he just babbled a bunch of random onigiri ingredients.

Aside from that, he knew too little about you to draw a conclusion on anything.

"Don't you want to save Tsumiki?" Gojo was playing with his weakness, and Megumi knew it. He was trying to get him to do this insane bidding, but found himself unable to reject him outright the second time.

Did he want his birthright? No. Of course not. Megumi had enough of shit in his life already, and he was content with the way things were now.

But to save Tsumiki?

Apparently he was crazy enough to go with this.

And that was how he found himself walking by the temples in the Zen’in compound with you.

“Do you despise this arrangement?” you asked him warily, trying to gauge his emotions at all, because ever since the talk inside he had been nothing but a straight face. Even faced with Naoya’s boiling fury, he merely kept his silence. Now only Gojo stayed inside to broker the agreement with the Zen’in for your hand in this marriage with him instead of Naoya.

He stopped walking, and paused a moment to look at you, before sighing. “Would it make a difference if I was?”

“I suppose not.” You looked away, suddenly feeling guilty. He didn’t know that you have forced Gojo’s hand, and for a long time, you certainly didn’t want him to know. Your cover story was your clan wanted you to be betrothed to the Zen’in who inherits their signature fatal technique. “But you’re still human, and have feelings. You must feel something right now, like resentment towards me.”

Megumi scoffed. He had learned from a long time ago that people didn’t care about his feelings, or about him as a person at all.

“Hating you doesn’t make it any better for both of us, does it?” his gaze remained impassive.

If he was already this prickly, what would he do when the truth did come out? You swallowed your worry though, and put on your brave face.

“I know you don’t want this. Neither do I. But I think it’ll do us better if we can get to know each other first.”

“Right now?” he looked at you incredulously, having the expression of someone whose patience was being tested. “What more do I have to know? You’re Hara Sena. You went to Kyoto High, we were in the same year. And Naoya seems to have some sort of obsession with you by the way he keeps glaring at me for this.”

You widened your eyes at the blatant refusal. “Fushiguro Megumi, you’re as unfriendly as everyone says,” you retorted, now vexed at his biting tone. “You certainly live up to your reputation.”

“I know.”

For the first time after meeting him today, Megumi's mouth twisted into a genuine smirk. A chuckle escaped him as he looked at the boring lengths of the trees around him.

"How did you live all this time without Zen'in clan's intervention?" you cut through the awkward silence beside him.

"Why do you care about how I grew up?"

"Nothing, just curious is all. You are to be my husband and we must at least be on talking terms."

He let out a groan. "You're really going to be this way the whole time, won't you?"

"Come on, answer the question. I'll answer too if you ask me next."

Megumi paused on his tracks, arms on his hips. "Gojo-sensei took care of everything. You've heard how the story goes―that's all there's to it. I owe him my life." He tilted his head to the side, his hands now deep into his pockets. "What about you? What drove you into this?"

You held back a smile. "You might hear it already, my father's principal wife isn't my biological mother. I'm a product of my father's affair. Now I'm plucked as a chess piece to marry into the Zen'in to do my duty as a daughter. We're not so different, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we're just alike..." he mumbled to himself with a heavy tone, continuing the walk. "But then you wouldn't know. I'm not some mistake that got kicked around. There was a purpose behind my upbringing. Gojo-sensei didn't take me in for free."

"Hah," you barked a satire laugh. The nerve of him. "A mistake, huh? True enough."

He side-eyed you, so you elaborated further. You were not above being petty too. "No, I mean I'm the mistake. But you have a grander purpose―that is to serve the purpose of the Zen'in, whatever it is."

Megumi rolled his eyes. He was irritated, but not just because of your snide remark. "Can't have me dying without an heir, apparently," he said dryly, but then his expression changed again to one of disgust. "This whole thing is gross, you know? Us being wed just for a cursed technique. Or filial piety. A bunch of bullshit."

"That's one thing we can agree on," you shrugged, now clearly amused. Hey, maybe a life with him won't be so bad after all. He's quite sarcastic and relatable.

Megumi grunted, and both of you walked in silence for a while. His pace had slowed down a bit and when he spoke, his voice came out softer. "So, you seem pretty level-headed with all of this, and you seem eager to get to know me, why? Not that I'm totally opposed to it, but it's not like we're going to become bosom friends or anything."

You threw him a look. "I'm telling you―I don't want a marriage in which we yell everyday. I don't expect us to fall in love or anything, but the least we can do is become friends, don't you think?"

"Friends?" Megumi wondered out loud. He thought over what you said for a few moments. "Ah, I get it. If you married Zen'in Naoya, you'd spend the rest of your life miserable," he concluded with a click of his tongue. "I am the lesser of two evils, that's why you're fine with this."

"More or less, yes." You shifted your gaze from him to the gardens. "Glad to know you caught on that quick."

"So that's that. And you're right about one thing... we can't just yell at each other every day." He paused for a moment for a dramatic effect and then he chuckled. You were quite scheming, changing sides the moment he was called back into the Zen'in, he thought. "Yeah, now I can see why Naoya was so cranky. You have a way to annoy people," he joked.

"I'm not! I'll have you know I'm quite prim and proper."

"Really? You sure don't come off like that."

You whipped your head at him, halting your steps. Okay, now it's on. You're going to take him with you whether he likes it or not. To hell with what you did behind his back. "Well, you will, dear husband."

You almost let out a snicker when he froze at your usage of that endearment. Oh, so he gets shy easily.

His grip on the fabric of his pockets tightened. "Don't you call me that."

"Why? You are, though."

"I'm not your dear anything!" Megumi snapped, his voice becoming harsher. "I'm forced to enter this shit of a marriage and nothing more."

"Are you blushing?"

He froze again and this time you really laughed at his face.

How could he be blushing right now? Why? He tried to deny it but his face felt hot. "No... I'm not."

"Ahh, so you're that type... Well noted, dear," you winked, and Megumi swore your bright face did something to his insides that made his heart beat a tad bit faster. "I'll make sure to express myself often so you won't have to."

He turned his face away, effectively embarrassed. You were getting on his nerves. "I hate it when you say that."

You literally beamed, peering at him. "No, no. You'll come to find it tolerable."

He frowned. This girl... no one would've expected that you were caught in an unwanted arranged marriage with how freewheeling you seemed. And all in all, you still resembled the happy girl in his memories who tried to make a conversation with Inumaki some years ago. If all he had to do to save Tsumiki was marrying you, then he supposed it wasn't a bad deal after all.

Megumi muttered something under his breath, grumbling to himself.

"...yeah, maybe. We'll see."

"You damnable woman..." Naoya hissed under his breath. His hands clenched as blood seeped between them.

He was a step behind! He could've lost his status as the heir! All because that Gojo Satoru and his very presence insisted that he'd be the sponsor for that washed up bastard Fushiguro!

And that scheming Hara wench... Even you wriggled your way out of his grasp. What sort of ridiculous notion was this? How could he let his pride be stomped twice over the course of one day?

All his life, Naoya was led to believe that he was groomed to be the head of the clan. He was praised, cherished and deemed as the most promising. Everyone else was like ants he could stomp all over. He was born to rule over them.

And he still believed that until now, even as his inheritance was slipping away from his grasp.

He stared at the dead body of a servant girl who just got him his tea with a blank look, and raised his chin up. Undiluted hatred shone right through it.

No one gets away after scratching his back. Maybe Gojo Satoru can, but certainly not a girl from an insignificant clan or a bastard who tried to usurp his place.

Starting from Hara Sena, he thought with a snarl. You might've gotten away from your marriage with him, but he wouldn't let you go so easily. He'd make your life so hellish even when you were not with him.

And then, Fushiguro Megumi. He already had plans for him right from the moment the clan elders showed approval for his claim. He had plotted a way to get rid of him.

A sneer cut through his lips as he kicked the mangled corpse away. "Heh."

✩°｡ ⋆ next -> chapter two : unholy matrimony

🏷️ taglist

@moonmalice @hellothere9597

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f1girliefics · 5 months

Text

F1 Drivers Christmas Eve with You - Preferences

Max Verstappen/Daniel Ricciardo/Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri/Carlos Sainz/Charles Leclerc/George Russel/Lewis Hamilton/Yuki Tsunoda x Reader

A/N: Decided to include a lot more of the drivers for this special Christmas edition! I hope you all enjoy it!

Max Verstappen

He would turn his romantic side ON.

He has the entire evening planned.

Romantic dinner at a nice restaurant, then you would go to his place to watch movies and exchange gifts.

Max is the kind to spend months prior to any event thinking about what to buy.

He wants to get a meaningful gift for you.

And let's be fair he would be happy with anything. Clothes? Yes. A new watch? Of course. Lego? Hell yeah.

He just wants to spend time with you.

Daniel Ricciardo

As soon as he saw your Christmas get-up he would be smiling. You got for the two of you matching Christmas sweatshirts.

He loved it.

This wouldn't be your first Christmas with Danny. But he would make it special each time.

This year, he planned on staying at his house, watch movies, play some games if you are up for it.

And you were.

Obviously.

It would be a Christmas Eve where your cheeks would start to hurt from all the smiling.

Lando Norris

He would invite you to dinner in one of his favourite restaurants. It had been the same you went to have your first date, so it was a special place in your heart.

He would have a simple beautiful necklace for you with the letter L as a charm on it with a simple gorgeous diamond.

He would say High School Musical inspired him since Gabriella had a T for Troy.

How cheesy, you loved it.

Oscar Piastri

It would be your first Christmas.

So, he would be nervous.

But you invited him over so, he would be EXTRA nervous.

You decorated your entire apartment and even cooked a nice simple meal.

He would praise your cooking as if you were a Michelin-star chef.

After dinner and presents, you two would watch The Grinch while cuddling on the couch with many snacks.

Carlos Sainz

Carlos would ask you to spend Christmas with his family, and who were you to say no?

If you speak Spanish, be prepared to have long conversations.

If not, fear not, his family would have no issue with talking to you, constantly yelling at Carlos to translate.

It would be a very sweet Christmas. And a rather loud one as well.

Charles Leclerc

He would try to impress you by any means.

You are not even surprised that his tree is all red... who could have guessed it?

Charles would buy so many gifts for you, that some wouldn't even fit under the tree.

Shoes, bags, jewellery and even a new phone.

He would ask for nothing in return.

But you would still give him gifts. Maybe not as expensive... okay definitely not as expensive.

He would hire a chef who would cook for you two.

After dinner, you wanted to watch Home Alone and he would shock you by saying he never saw it, so movie night it is.

George Russel

You two came to the decision that this year, you would plan your Christmas Eve. You invited him over to your place, decorated your home and got him many gifts.

Not like he didn't have everything, but you still did.

If you can and agree to cook, he would be happy to eat your meal, if not, he would have no problem with some takeout.

Who knew fast food could look fancy on a plate on a table lit by candles?

His gift to you would be something you might have mentioned at one point. He is the kind of boyfriend to remember and give you exactly what you wish for.

Lewis Hamilton

Lewis would have the entire evening planned.

Of course, it would be at a fancy restaurant. It would be one of your favourites. You two agreed on no gifts because you two buy each other everything during the year anyway. So, a nice date will be enough.

And it really would be.

Yuki Tsunoda

He would cook for you. Yuki decided to put his entire soul on a plate for you. And it is magnificent.

He is a great cook, so you can expect an amazing dinner before you exchange presents.

His present for you would be something super meaningful. Something you had your eyes on for months.

After the presents, you two would be on his couch, cuddling, laughing and having a great time.

Fernando Alonso

He would invite you over to his home, and cook some dinner for you himself.

It would be very special and romantic.

He would make you watch Spanish Christmas classics.

Overall it would be a very romantic and cozy evening.

For a gift, he would give you something he knows you would love. He knows you very well, so he would give you exactly what you want without you having to mention it.

Lance Stroll

Let's be fair he would ask for you to go to his family's house for Christmas.

As for your gift, he would buy you anything you name or don't.

To him, the more it cost, the better the item.

So, he would be shocked when your favourite would be a pair of earrings.

And you would have a great time with his family, but you did learn that his father likes to take Monopoly a little too seriously.

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celiastjamesoscar · 7 months

Text

Like Real People Do

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Wednesday has been running through your mind, plaguing your every thought. So when you go out one night to get a grasp on these thoughts, you run into the Addams, who was suffering from thoughts about you.

Warnings: none

My Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3K

The grounds of Nevermore lay idle as you slowly crept out of your dorm room. It was well into the hours of dusk and past curfew, but you wanted to explore the local grounds without having Weems breathing down your neck.

Slowly and quietly, you walked down the dark hallway as the moonlight filtered through the windows, casting haunting shadows on the floor as you continued your walk. Occasionally, the floor would creak, and all you could do was hold your breath, but when no one would appear to berate you, you would sigh with relief before moving to the courtyard.

The moon cast the perfect lighting onto the water fountain just before the gates of Nevermore, as if the water itself was trying to compel you from leaving the sanctuary. With some effort, you pushed open the creaking black gates and slipped out into the vast open space that surrounded Nevermore.

You didn’t have any places in mind to go; you just wanted to walk underneath the moon and stars. There was something special about the cold, crisp air that would seep into your lungs as you admired the beautiful rock in the sky.

As you continued your journey into the darkness, you let your mind wander. There was nothing meaningful that you would think about: homework, what you were going to eat for breakfast and Wednesday. The relationship you had with the Addams girl was no different than the relationship she had with most of the students at Nevermore: a nonexistent one. But those stolen glances you two would occasionally share, along with the slightest grazing of the hands, was enough to plague your mind for days.

It was stupid; you were aware of this, but you couldn’t help but think about Wednesday’s relationship with physical touch. Sure, a light touch was typical when passing someone in the hallway, but this was Wednesday, a woman who went out of her way to make sure no one touched her. So, of course, you would think back on when Wednesday’s hand would brush past yours several times in one day. You would also think about whenever you two were sitting in class, how she would lightly press her thigh against yours and keep it that way the entire class period.

It was hard not to notice how the Addams girl would wait for you outside your classes. It started by accident; Wednesday, she had happened to take a different route to the quad and happened to pass by you leaving your class, so she walked with you. “Hello, Wednesday,” you had greeted her, but you received no response from the girl. It wasn’t uncommon for you to talk to the girl and get no response, and you oddly found comfort in her few words and no smiles.

During lunch, you two would sit together with Enid and the rest, but you could only focus on the way Wednesday’s leg kept on bumping against hers, and when you would move it away, she would very subtly and slowly shift toward you, so that she could keep her thigh resting against yours. It drove you mad at how she wouldn’t speak to you but would do anything to feel you close.

Whenever she wasn’t touching you, Wednesday was longing for your attention. Across a vast room full of students, the ravenette’s eyes would find solace in your eyes. The eye contact wasn't held for more than a few seconds, but Wednesday was also the first person to look away. It was unheard of for Wednesday to break eye contact, but with you, things were different. The things she felt around you drove her up the walls. The Addams girl wasn’t used to handling these things; the nerves she would get when you would smile at her during passing period, the spiders that would crawl through her stomach when you would remember the littlest details about her. It wasn’t normal for her, but she relished in your comfort whenever you were near.

What was almost worse was the fact that Wednesday couldn’t even form sentences around you. The nerves alone were bad enough, but when Wednesday wanted to compliment you, the words would die on her tongue. She was a fucking reader, for Christ's sake, but whenever she was around you, she spoke the same English as Helen Keller. There were unspoken feelings on both sides, but neither of you knew what to say. You both wanted each other so desperately, but the fear of rejection ran stronger than any desire possibly could.

So, as you continued your walk around campus, it was as if an invisible string was pulling you to Wednesday. The sound of digging pulled you from your timely thoughts of the goth girl, and as you moved toward the sound of the digging, you saw the woman in question.

“Wednesday? What are you doing?” You asked as you approached the more petite girl, who was standing in a two-foot grave. When she heard her name, she haunted her digging, and her head shot up, causing her eyes to find yours instantly. Her eyes were darker than usual as sweat glistened on her forehead, accompanied by some dirt that stuck to her face. Wednesday was breathtaking, just as she always was.

“I’m digging, can’t you see that?” She replied as she continued her digging. “I know that, but why?” You asked as you now stood in front of the hole. It wasn’t uncommon for Wednesday to go grave digging, but looking around, your surroundings were only trees with a small blanket of stars sitting atop their highest peak. No graves were in sight as you watched the more petite girl continue digging her hole.

“I just like digging,” was all Wednesday said in response.

“Can I join you?”

The question caught Wednesday off guard, but she only huffed as she grabbed a spare shovel and handed it to you. It was a small offering, but you accepted it nonetheless and joined Wednesday. The hole was roughly three feet wide, making it hurt to dig with Wednesday, but you two made it work, just like always.

For the first time since knowing you, Wednesday started the conversation first. “What are you doing out so late?”

It was a simple question, but the goth girl wanted to know why you walked the Nevermore's grounds this late at night. And she secretly wanted to learn more about you, but that was just for her to know.

“I don’t know; I suppose I just wanted to get some fresh air and think about things,” you replied while digging. It wasn’t a lie; you did want to walk for fresh air and to think about things, but you didn’t want to tell Wednesday that you were thinking about her.

“What were you thinking about?” The ravenette asked, to your demise. If you noticed the slight hint of irritation in her voice, she was glad you didn’t say anything about it. Wednesday can’t have you know that the thought of you thinking about women that weren’t her angered her beyond belief. It awakened a rage in her that even the deepest of hell couldn’t reach.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You teased, hoping Wednesday would pick up on the joke, but you knew better.

At your words, Wednesday teased up and stopped her digging. Her mind ran rapidly as she thought of what to do, what to say. The Addams blood coursing through her veins screamed at her to confess her undying love for you. It shouted and told her to tell you the truth: that she was digging a grave for the both of you. But her nature told her she didn’t want to be vulnerable with someone. Not again.

It wasn't that she had actually liked Tyler; she was just worried about placing her trust in someone else and getting betrayed in the end. Tyler tried to kill her and Enid, and Wednesday vowed not to make that same mistake again. But when she remembered the way you and Enid would spend every weekend together, forcing Wednesday to try colorful clothing and making her model like she was on the runway, she knew that she could trust you with her heart. Based on the sole assumption that you never told anyone that she enjoyed dressing up, only because it made you smile.

“I was asking,” Wednesday took a breath as she realized this was a lot harder to say than she initially thought, “I wanted to know if you had anyone on your mind.”

“What do you mean by that?” You asked with a small laugh, but you soon realized how tense the goth girl had gotten, and your blood ran cold. “Wednesday, what’s wrong?”

You stopped digging and reached out to touch her, but Wednesday quickly moved away and faced you. “Why do you think this is funny? Do you enjoy seeing me in pain?” She questioned.

“What? No, why would you think that?” You asked as you moved closer, but Wednesday moved backward again; this time, her back hit the hole's edge, preventing her from progressing further.

“Because you were smiling. You only smile when you think something is funny or Enid dresses me up like one of her stupid dolls. Now tell me why you were smiling,” Wednesday demanded.

You took a deep breath as you debated if you wanted to get into this talk with Wednesday right now. “Wednesday, look. I promise you I didn’t think it was funny, and I don’t like seeing you in pain. I just thought it was funny that you wanted to know if I was thinking about anyone,” you softly spoke as you took a step closer. Wednesday made no effort to try and move again, so you gently took her hands into yours. “Please, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

When your hands gently clasped hers, Wednesday sighed at their comforting warmth. She ran her thumbs over your fingers as she spoke, “I asked because thoughts of you plague my mind: night and day. You are an insufferable, annoying human being, but I cannot control how I feel for you. I wish I didn’t care about you, but I only want to cherish you like you were mine and no one else’s.”

The sound of your heartbeat drumming against your rib cage echoed throughout your ears as you took in Wednesday’s confession. This was probably the first conversation you two have shared, but you would be damned if it wasn’t your favorite one.

But Wednesday took your silence as rejection, so with the tiniest whimper, Wednesday quickly moved out of the grave. “Wednesday, wait! Please!” You begged as you followed the girl, but she was surprisingly fast for her size. You called after her again and again, but she only ignored you. Even when you ran to catch up with her, and you two returned to Nevermore together, she still would not talk to you.

Even when you followed her into her dorm room and sat on her bed next to her, Wednesday still did not talk to you. You know the Addams girl wouldn’t talk to you anytime soon, so you took it upon yourself to start the conversation.

“You know those shitty little carnival animals that people spend a ridiculous amount of money to win when you could buy the same thing from any store? Well, do you remember whenever we went to one together?”

The girl nodded her head in acknowledgment.

“Do you remember that scorpion I won you?”

She nodded her head again.

“I spent fifty dollars trying to win that thing,” you admitted with a small embarrassed laugh, “But that smile on your face was worth every penny.”

Wednesday huffed, “I don’t smile.”

“Bullshit! You had the biggest smile on your lips that I have ever seen! It was like you were a real person experiencing real emotions for the first time,” you retorted with a laugh.

“I don’t experience any emotions like that, but I must say I enjoyed how it made me feel… appreciated,” Wednesday admitted as she played with her fingers. Breaking the barrier between you two, you slowly reached and gently took her hand into yours. When she didn’t pull away, you interlaced your fingers together.

“Wednesday, I have only been thinking about you. Whenever I’m trying to do anything, you are always there. I’ve wanted you for so long, but I have been terrified of pushing you away. I know you hate relationships; that’s why I didn’t tell you. But now that you know you also feel the same way,” you let out a quick laugh of disbelief, “I don’t even know what to say.”

Surprisingly, Wednesday followed with a chuckle and bumped her shoulders against yours. “You make me feel like I’m real,” Wednesday mumbled under her breath.

“Well, since you feel like a real person with me, maybe we could kiss like real people do?” You offered, and Wednesday went rigid. Before you could apologize, Wednesday turned her head, quickly kissed your lips, and pulled back. It was over before you could blink, but you could still taste her lips as she smiled at you.

When you mirrored her smile, Wednesday let go of your hand and carefully cupped your jaw with both hands as she brought you into her lips.

This kiss was much longer than the first but all the more passionate. The pining and anticipation had let up to this moment; Wednesday’s small hands held your face to hers as her lips danced against yours. The soft sighs leaving her lips as you two kissed sounded like heaven.

For the first time in her life, Wednesday felt her heart explode with love. She was forever grateful that she got to kiss you like real people do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @maskthedwarf

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednsday addams #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #wednesday x y/n

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matchavellichor · 11 months

Text

All My Riches for Her Smiles

Ominis Gaunt x f!pureblood!MC - NSFW/Angst - 4.7k words - ao3

Tags: Ancient Pureblood Bonding Rituals, Post-Graduation, Arranged Married, Loss of Virginity, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Post-Coital L-Bombs, "Un"requited Love

Summary: Forced into an arranged marriage for the benefit of their pureblood families, Ominis struggles to make his closest friend-turned-wife feel less like a prisoner.

For as long as she could remember, there had always been a special sort of familiarity between her and Ominis. A comfortableness that only came from some morbid form of trauma-bonding, a shared understanding of just how horrible their respective pureblood families were.

Plights and sorrows shared under the blanket of moonlight with their feet dangling off the edge of the Astronomy tower. Laughs drenched in the smoke of shared Muggle cigars after they’d snuck off to some secluded terrace together during another ridiculous high-society event. A passive form of rebellion. They’d confide in each other about every expectation placed upon their shoulders, the weight suffocating at times.

He knew her inside out, just as she knew him. Knew her dreams and aspirations. Listened to her rave on and on about how after graduation she’d gladly leave it all behind, run off to pursue being an Auror, regardless of if she was disinherited and left without a sickle to her name. He’d just laugh and make her promise she’d take him with her.

Even if they were just tall tales, words without real action behind them, he’d never admired anyone more than he admired her. Just how much braver she was than him, a vivid fire inside of her that hardly ever even flickered. He never had the courage to do half of the things she did. Never had nearly as much fight inside of him that she had, always falling quiet and obedient at the hands of his family.

Despite all of their years of friendship, it felt as if a complete stranger led her through the morose, darkened halls of the Gaunt Manor. A vaguely recognizable figure with lean, broad shoulders and neat, blonde hair.

Ever since the bonding ceremony, the both of them had hardly spoken a word. Exchanged less than meaningful glances, faces schooled into careful stoicism throughout the entire ordeal. There was an almost unbearable ache in his chest at just how hollow she sounded reciting her vows, that everlasting fire inside of her seemingly snuffed out. He felt he could be sick with remorse.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as soon as he closed the door to their now-shared chambers. He stood frozen near the door as he thought of a way to make any of this even remotely right. He could offer her empty platitudes, express his apologies, but he knew none of it would do any good. Nothing could change what had already been done, what the both of them had been subjected to.

Whatever he was feeling, he knew her enough to know she was feeling indescribably worse.

Trapped. Suffocated. Her hopes and dreams following graduation cruelly stolen from her, replaced instead by a future her parents had carved out for her. A wife, a mother. Quiet, submissive, and obedient. A mere possession for some powerful pureblood scion.

It was a role he could never envision her in. His headstrong and steadfast best friend, who’d drag him on every single one of her thrill-seeking adventures. Who’d fight acromantulas and poachers all day and still make it in time for dinner at the Great Hall.

He wanted to reach out, comfort her the way he had done for years when things with her family had gotten especially difficult, but considering the circumstances, he felt he had no right to even touch her.

Instead, he wrung his hands together and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

The first genuine words he’d spoken to her throughout the entire procession of the wedding ceremony, that had stretched for several, long days. She glanced up from where she had been staring at the carpet.

“Why are you apologizing?”

His mouth set into a rigid line. “Because I never wanted this to happen to you.”

“Well, it’s happened.” She said bitterly. “Not much use in wanting anything, is there?”

A pit of guilt carved itself into his chest. He repeated himself, regardless of the lack of good that it would do. “I’m so sorry.”

She made her way over to the ornate vanity situated on the adjacent wall and began undoing the intricate chignon her hair had been styled in for the wedding, pulling out pins and pearl-crusted hairpieces. Her voice was quiet, tired.

“This isn’t your doing, Ominis.”

His guilt burrowed itself even deeper into his chest, sinking into his heart like the dull blade of a knife.

She stared down at her perfectly manicured nails on the mahogany surface, such a stark contrast to the haphazard, chipped manner they were normally kept in, a byproduct of her unladylike hobbies —as her mother referred to it.

“If it weren’t you, it would’ve been someone else. I never would’ve escaped this fate.”

His mind stumbled over a million possibilities of how to rectify this, of how to make his new bride not feel like such a prisoner, not feel even more trapped than she’s felt her entire life. He felt just as trapped in his inability to correct this, bound and gagged by his own powerlessness. He took a fortifying breath.

“I’ll make this work. I’ll find a way to send you to Auror training and– and we can—”

“We both know that’s not happening.” She interrupted. “My job is to be nothing more than arm candy at high-society events and produce your next heirs.”

His heart ached at just how easily she seemed to have given up. Her fate sealed. He was willing to do anything to make her happy, but deep down he knew the only way to do so would be the dissolution of their marriage, something that was out of his hands. He couldn’t give her the freedom she craved.

Some selfish part of him hoped that one day she’d learn to accept his devotion. That she could learn to love him the same way he loved her. He knew it was a sick thing to wish for out of something born of coercion, but he was desperate for it.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make this as easy as possible for you. I swear it. Anything — whatever you desire, it’s yours. Just say the word.”

The corners of her lips twitched, pulled into a rueful smile, her fingers twisting the Gaunt heirloom ring around her finger. “Not everything can be fixed with money. Some things are simply out of your control, Ominis.”

Deep down he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman to be acquiesced with riches and luxuries, even if he was more than willing to give her every last sickle. What he didn’t tell her was that he was prepared to give himself to her just as wholly, devote mind, body, and soul to making her happy. It wouldn’t change anything.

He felt just as hopeless as she did.

Forced to witness the woman he loved become a prisoner in his own home, knowing he was the very lock and key that restrained her. He couldn’t bear the thought of one day being the object of her resentment. Of her slowly growing to despise him.

She broke him out of his dismal worrying by rising from her seat and walking over to where he was still planted near the door, turning her back to him. “Will you help me with my dress?”

“Oh,” He swallowed hard. “Yes.”

His fingers reached out to feel for the laces of her corset, running tentatively down the length of her spine. He pulled softly at the ties and they unraveled easily in his hands, one-by-one, trailing down her back.

He seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, and took a sharp inhale when she finally stepped away after the last of the laces had been undone. He heard the ruffling of fabric as she divested herself of her gown and suddenly he was acutely aware of the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

They both knew what they were expected to do now. What they had to do to finalize the bonding ritual, a consummation of their eternal union. Neither spoke a word.

She moved silently to the lush, king-sized bed poised in the center of the room, decked in creamy jacquard linens and comforters. He followed just as quietly and sat beside her, hands clasped nervously in his lap.

Of all the times he’d fantasized about a moment like this with her, this one was a horribly twisted act of fate. A morbid joke being played on him by some higher power with an awfully sick sense of humor. He felt nauseous at the thought of what he’d have to do to her, what she’d probably resent him for.

He flinched when he felt her reach over to squeeze his hand in his lap, her fingers warm over his. Her tone was sympathetic, reassuring. “It’s alright.”

He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the anxiety coursing through him, the unsteadiness in his voice. “I won’t kiss you.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Or touch you anywhere, or–”

She breathed a huff of amusement. “I think you might have to touch me, Ominis.”

“Right, I– I just meant—”

“I know.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity. He heard the sound of the comforter underneath her ruffling as she shifted to face him more comfortably.

“Should I lie back?”

He nodded. “Please.”

She laid her head back against a mound of pillows, soft and faintly-smelling of vanilla. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the circumstances were different.

That the bedding underneath her was just a bit scratchy and a vivid emerald green. That they weren’t in the Manor, but tucked away behind the curtains of her old four-poster at Hogwarts, like the world outside didn’t exist.

That this wasn’t something forced on them, but something soft and kind and tender, born of confessions of true love and not forced matrimony.

That when she opened her eyes, Ominis wouldn’t look faintly horrified and sickly pale, but instead she’d be able to see the soft creases in his eyes that only appeared when he smiled.

She couldn’t bear to look at him as he began on the buttons of his outer robes, divesting layer by layer with a practiced slowness. When he was stripped down to his undershirt and briefs, he grabbed his outerrobes to rummage through the pockets in search of his wand.

She finally picked her head up to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, er— lubrication charm.” He reddened as he said the words.

“Put your wand away, Ominis.” She sighed and took hold of his hand, urging him to drop the garment and make his way over to her.

Her entire life had been stolen from her by her family, she refused to have them steal this from her too. Her first time wouldn’t be something cold and rigid and unfeeling, with lubrication charms and calming draughts to ease her through it. She wanted to at least have this. To at least share something pleasant, something genuine, even if his only love for her was platonic.

He let her guide him to kneel beside her on the bed, her fingers wrapped around his wrist, an oddly grounding gesture. She parted her legs slightly and he felt the skin of her bare thighs brush against his.

“Here, just—” He gasped when she brought his hand down to make contact with her clothed center, strikingly warm under his fingertips. “You can touch me, Ominis.”

He froze, his fingers unmoving. She half-expected him to pull back. His voice was quiet, nervous. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “It’s alright.”

He swallowed hard and gently, tentatively, ran his fingers over the heat of her with feather-light touches. He had always been so careful with her, and she should have expected he’d be just as tender now.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, just like that,” She sighed in content. “A bit more, maybe.”

He noticed her voice had developed a slightly breathier quality, her breathing having grown heavy. The sound coursed through him, lighting every last one of his nerves on fire, and leaving him with the desire to coax even more soft noises out of her.

He applied a bit more pressure, his strokes becoming more focused, swirling tenderly against the little nub he could feel through the gusset of her knickers.

The softest moan escaped her parted lips and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned closer to her, one of his hands coming to part her thighs wider for him, the other continuing to rub tight, focused little circles.

Her breathing hitched at the change of pace and her hand came up to brace herself on his forearm that was parting her legs, her nails digging little crescent-shaped marks into his wrist as her head fell back against the pillow. He had quickly grown achingly hard in his trousers.

Before long, he could feel wetness seeping through to his fingers, dampening her knickers and clinging the fabric to her cunt. He cursed under his breath at the sensation and resisted the urge to climb down her body to tongue at the slickness, the same way he’d fantasized about doing for the longest time.

Even though the original aim of touching her had already been accomplished, he found he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He continued to hold her thighs parted for him, to rub at her in a desperate quest to hear her come apart at his fingers, to pull more pretty noises past her lips.

He could feel her tense underneath him, her hips instinctively coming up to grind against his hand, desperate for more friction. Shamelessly, he brought his own hand to palm at the almost painful ache that had grown in his trousers, rubbing himself through the fabric while he continued to swirl his fingers around her dripping cunt.

She let out a strangled gasp and then she was pushing at his hand between her thighs, a frantic pleading. “S-stop, stop, stop, please—”

His hand shot back like he’d been burnt as soon as he heard the word. His eyes widened, guilt washing over him immediately, that maybe she hadn’t wanted it, that maybe he had hurt her. “I’m — I’m so sorry.”

She took a moment to catch her breath, panting as she tried to compose herself, having been brought so close to the edge with just his fingertips. “It’s…It’s alright.” When she sat up to look at him, his face was pale, blanched with remorse. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

She reached over to give his hand another reassuring squeeze, her voice quiet and faintly tinged with embarrassment. “I…enjoyed it.”

“Oh.” There were soft splotches of pink painting his pale skin, peeking out from the white linen of his undershirt, his cheeks and the tips of his ears flushed a bright red.

She couldn’t help but find it a bit endearing. “I think I’m ready now.”

“Right.” She watched the lines of his throat bob as he swallowed down his anxiety, wiping his hands nervously on the front of his trousers.

It was a bit too dim in the faint glow of candlelight that was bathing the room, but she glanced down to his lower body and tried to make out if maybe he’d like her to return the favor.

“Do you need…help?”

His cock throbbed in his briefs, a sticky bead of precum bleeding a damp spot through the front. He shook his head sheepishly.

Slowly, he made his way closer to her, settling himself in between her legs. He placed his hands on either side of her on the pillow, hovering over her for a moment as he tried to compose himself as best as he could.

Finally, he tentatively brought his hands down, skimming faintly over the chemise covering her torso, and down below it to rest at her hips. His fingers paused at the hem of her knickers, an index hooked on each side.

“May I?”

She nodded. “Please.”

He pulled the fabric down her legs, and she felt her cheeks warm as she realized just how wet he had gotten her, a glistening string of slick painting the inside of her thighs.

She brought her hands to the waistband of his briefs. “Would you like me to—”

“No.” He pulled her hands away immediately, mortified at how she would react if she realized just how much he wanted her. “It’s…it’s alright, I can do it myself.”

She nodded and tried to not let her curiosity get the best of her, keeping her eyes trained on his face as she heard the sound of fabric rustling as he unsheathed himself.

She gasped when she suddenly felt him pressed against her, slipping under where her nightgown had slightly ridden up, warm and throbbing against her stomach.

He closed his eyes at the feeling of her soft skin, his lips parting in a faint, shaky exhale. He noted with shame that all it would probably take was a few, pathetic ruts against her stomach and he’d be painting her skin in milky white.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded, embarrassed. “Yes, I just…need a moment.” A sticky bead of his precum dripped out to wet her skin, coursing even more mortification through him.

He took a deep breath before he reached a hand down between them to position himself at her entrance. His mouth dropped open when he felt just how wet she was, coating him so easily.

“Fuck,” He gritted under his breath, rubbing himself slowly through her folds.

She couldn’t help but tug up her chemise the rest of the way over her waist, filled with the strong desire to expose more of herself to him. Her nipples pebbled as they came in contact with the cool air of the room and she let out a breathy pant at the sensation.

His voice was strained when he finally managed to speak. “If I hurt you, tell me, please. I’ll — I’ll stop.

She nodded, and even if she felt safe with him, she couldn’t help but tense as she felt him slowly press against her entrance. She gasped at the sensation.

“I’m sorry,” He brought a hand down to stroke soothingly at her skin, his fingers splayed broad and warm over her waist, a gesture strangely grounding and comforting. “Try to relax, I know it’s difficult.”

He was so soft-spoken, so tender with her, that she felt herself ease immediately. He pushed in a bit more, letting out a quiet groan that he tried desperately to stifle.

He paused, brows furrowed in concern. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He continued to sink into her, his thumb rubbing gentle, soothing circles on the soft skin of her stomach, calming her with reassuring whispers. She felt so full already, yet she knew she’d barely taken even a quarter of him, a delicious sting around where he was stretching her out so achingly slow.

He looked almost pained when she looked up at him, his features pinched and strained, his hand fisting the pillow beside her head, the other digging into her hip.

Tentatively, she brought a hand up to soothe him herself, smoothing her thumb over the tense lines of his brows, his lips. “It’s alright, you’re not hurting me.” She whispered. “You can give me more. Give me all of you.”

He shuddered, at the feeling of her hand caressing him, at her soft, encouraging words. He lost himself in the sensation, bringing his palm up to keep her hand pressed to his cheek, before he brought his hips down to connect with hers, sheathing himself completely inside of her.

They both let out sharp, strangled gasps in unison.

His head dropped down to her shoulder, overwhelmed by the feeling of her squeezing so tight around him. She brought a hand to run her nails down the nape of his neck, equally as overwhelmed by the feeling of being so full.

His voice was destroyed when he spoke. “Okay?”

She nodded fervently.

Slowly, he eased his hips back, and just as slowly, eased them back against hers. She could feel his warm breath, panting heavy where he had his face buried in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. He nosed at her throat softly as he settled into an excruciatingly languid pace, terrified of hurting her.

“More,” She breathed out against his ear. “Please, Ominis.”

His hand on her waist tightened at the sound of her pleading. “I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t,” She begged. “Please, I just want to feel more of you.”

He let out a groan, his composure crumbling, and then he was bracing himself over her, hitching one of her legs up until her knee was pressed to her chest, and thrusting himself fully inside her again.

He let out a guttural, depraved moan at how the new angle felt, his cock pushing right up against her walls.

“Oh my gods,” She cried out, feeling him so much deeper inside her like this, her head falling back against the pillows.

He pressed his forehead against hers as he continued to rut into her just as she asked, her smaller body jolting as his thrusts became more forceful, more unrestrained, ones he couldn’t stop himself from giving her. He could feel every little whimper he tore from her, every soft pant ghosting his lips.

He resisted the aching urge to kiss her. It would be so easy, to just tilt her chin up slightly for him, to lick into her parted lips and taste her the way he’s always wanted to taste her. To have her moan into his mouth while he continued to thrust into that sensitive little spot on her walls that made her see stars.

Thankfully, she didn’t make him resist any urges.

He nearly broke down when her hands came up to thread her fingers through his hair, bringing his lips down to crash into hers. The groan he let out against her mouth was utterly starved, a sound stemming from years and years and years of longing.

Her tongue tangled with his in a frantic quest to taste him just as eagerly, leaving them both spit-sticky and kiss-bruised, a messy desperation, too hungry for any sense of decorum. He wanted to completely drown himself in her, until his lungs were filled with only the air that she allowed him, until he was filled with nothing but her.

Having her moan into his mouth, feeling her lips start to falter against his when he rutted into that sensitive little spot deep inside her that made it overwhelming for her to kiss him back properly, was enough to push him straight to the edge.

His thrusts grew sloppy, on the verge of spilling inside her. He hurriedly brought his hand down to rub focused swirls on the spot he already knew she liked, desperate to feel her cumming around his cock while he filled her.

She let out a strangled moan, her walls fluttering around him, and he could tell she was just as close as he was. Right on the precipice of it, dangling over the edge. He’d never wanted something more, and feeling her writhe underneath him, he wasn’t above begging her for it.

“Please, please—” He brought his other hand up under her dress to rub at her nipple, kneading the little nub between his fingers while he mouthed hungrily at the soft skin under her jaw. “Let me have this. Please let me have this.”

She obliged happily, in that moment willing to give him just about anything he asked of her.

He tore her orgasm out of her with a few final ruts of his cock inside of her, hitting up into that spot that made her whimper. She came apart around him with his name spilling from her mouth, over and over again, as if it was all she’s ever known.

“Fuck, fuck—” He groaned at the sensation of her tightening, pulling him over the edge along with her, milking him until he was painting her insides with his cum.

He had never experienced greater euphoria, feeling her tremble against him from the aftershocks while he continued to pump inside of her until he was spent.

“Thank you.” He kissed her sweat-damp cheeks as if in worship, trailed his lips to press against her hairline in gratitude, breathless. “Fuck, you did so well. Thank you.”

Her response was a lazy hum of acknowledgement, her eyes half-lidded, limbs syrupy and loose from the way her climax destroyed her.

He kissed her then, sensual and slow, as if he wanted to prove his devotion to her with his lips. Head buzzing with endorphins, still buried deep inside of her, he whispered against her lips what had been playing through his head on a loop the entire time he’d fucked her.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

She froze, her eyes opening, as if all of the air had just been knocked out of her lungs. He noticed the way her body immediately tensed underneath him. His stomach sank.

“I’m so sorry. That was — I shouldn’t have said—”

“Do you mean it?”

There was a heavy pause, as if he was considering carefully how to respond. Weighing his options. Ultimately, he decided there was no use in denying how he felt for her now. He noted wryly that he had little reason to worry about ruining their friendship with his confession when they were now married.

“I’ve meant it for years.”

Suddenly, she laughed. A delighted exhale, incredulous. His brows furrowed.

Then, she said it. Words he’d wanted to hear from her for years, words he’d fallen asleep to countless times fantasizing about coming from her mouth. She said it so easily, as if it were a simple thing to admit. “I love you, too.”

An anxious, dreaded feeling settled in his stomach. He grimaced. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t—”

“Ominis,” She interrupted him. “I mean it.”

His breath caught in his throat. “Swear it.”

“I swear it.” Her hands cupped his face. “I love you.”

He huffed his own soft, incredulous laugh. Then, he broke into a smile.

Stupid and giddy, the kind that made her stomach do somersaults, and left her with a warm, syrupy feeling all over. The kind where little creases showed up at the corners of his eyes.

“Say it again.”

She repeated it happily, as if it were natural. “I love you.”

He took her face in his hands and peppered kisses all over her face, overwhelmed with every little thing he was feeling for her in the moment, filled to the brim with nothing but relief and glee and satisfaction, his heart feeling like it might burst out of his chest with how full it was. He paused at her lips.

“Again.”

She laughed, amused, before she grinned and humored him anyways. “I love you.”

He kissed her again. Sweet and soft, enough to make her head spin, and she felt in that moment like she had been suddenly dragged under the warmth of a sunbeam.

A soft, amber glow that shone itself on the dreary, dark future that she had envisioned for herself. That melted away her anxieties and replaced them with images of gentle caresses and smile lines and blonde hair threaded through her fingers.

When he finally broke away, there was concern etched over his expression. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“More than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”

“Then trust me and let me make this right.” He brushed his thumb across the line of her cheekbone, traced her features with feather-light touches. “I’ll turn this into something good, I swear it to you. Whatever it takes, just let me make you happy. Please.”

She smiled then, hopeful. A flicker in her eyes. That little spark reignited inside of her, the everlasting fire. “We’ll make this into something good together, won’t we?”

He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, pulled her into him until she was tucked safely into his chest, enveloping her in layers and layers of adoration that he prayed she could feel in his embrace. He closed his eyes.

“Just like we always have.”

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #angst #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fan fiction #hogwarts legacy imagine

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darthgloris · 7 months

Text

2AM THOUGHTS #6: Anakin confesses to Y/N on accident

"Okay, what the fuck was that for?" Anakin demanded as he closed the door behind them.

"What do mean? I was protecting you!" She defended.

"And I was protecting you! You nearly died!" He yelled, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I don't need you to protect me, Anakin! I'm not a child!" She snapped, crossing her arms. "It was for the sake of the mission, all right? If I have to die for the cause, then so be it."

Those words seemed to make something click inside him. The fact that she would even think that some mission was more meaningful than her own life made his blood boil. He sauntered over to her, a flash of anger in his eyes that had never been directed at her scared her a little, and she walked backwards until her back hit the wall. "Don't you dare say anything of the sort ever again."

The small tinge of fear in her eyes as he looked down at her made his face soften and guilt took over him. The last thing he ever wanted was to make her fear him, and he felt disappointed in himself for treating her like this. He'd die for her, they both knew that.

He shook his head and sighed, stepping away from her. "Look, you're not less valuable than the Order. And you're certainly not going to try and protect me again."

"I'm always going to try to save you. There's nothing you can do to stop me. If you didn't do so many reckless things, maybe I wouldn't have to!" She replied, hands on her hips as she looked at him sternly.

"Then I'm not going to stop trying to protect you!"

"Why?! You're a Jedi, you're a General now, there are so much more important things at stake than my life right now!"

"Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay?! But it happened and I can’t do shit about it!" He yelled and the words reverberated in the room as he froze. Y/N also paused, her breath shaking as the words sunk in.

"You… what?" She breathed out, shocked.

"I- I- uh... I didn't mean to say that..." he stuttered out, terrified of her reaction. If she left him, he wouldn't be able to live with himself, and Ahsoka... Maker, he couldn't even imagine how heartbroken she'd be.

"Is it not true?" She asked, her brain barely registering his words.

"No, no, it is, I just..." he sighed mid-sentence, burying his face in his hands to avoid looking at her. "I didn't want you to find out like this."

"Oh, stars..." she sighed, leaning on the table for stability. "How... when..?"

"Does it really matter?" He asked, tentatively stepping closer.

"I... wow. I mean, you..." she could barely put a sentence together. "Anakin Skywalker... with me?"

"Of course I am. You're amazing," he said, tipping her chin to make her meet his eyes. "You're smart as a whip, you're kind, you're caring, you're beautiful, and, Maker, you're so great with Ahsoka that she almost loves you more than me, heh. I mean, how can anyone not want you?"

"Oh, Anakin..." she said, her heart swelling at his words. "You're so sweet. No man has ever treated me as well as you do."

"Really..?" He asked. His brain failed to comprehend how anyone could ever treat her with anything but love and respect.

"Yes. You're just so thoughtful, you remember the little things about me, and Maker, you melted my heart when I bled through my robes and you gave me your cloak to cover it up. I mean, every other guy just got grossed out and walked away." She recalled, cupping his cheek and nuzzling her nose with his.

He sighed shakily as he felt her breath fanning over his face. He was dangerously close to her, and he knew that he didn't have enough self-control to resist kissing her. "Um... may I?"

"Please." She whispered. He gave her a soft, gentle kiss on the lips that encapsulated all the pent-up feelings he harboured for her. When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers, slowly opening his eyes to look at her with lovestruck eyes.

"Was that okay?" He asked, caressing her face.

"It was perfect, Ani." She said and pulled his lips back to hers. He squeaked adorably in surprise and helped her hop onto the table, sliding between her thighs as he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

She couldn't get enough of him, and he certainly could never get enough of her.

Ahsoka was going to be thrilled.

#star wars #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars anakin #ahsoka tano x reader #ahsoka tano #tcw anakin #star wars the clone wars #tcw ahsoka

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vixensbrainrotts · 4 months

Text

Committed to you - Manjiro >Mikey< Sano

(part two)

Idea/ prompt: Mikey from the last timeline who wants to propose to us but has no idea how to ask so he ask advices from draken and emma

Vixen's two cents: Hi. I know ive been gone for like 2 weeks, I dont know why but it's been hard writing lately. anyway, thanks a million to @anahryal for giving me this idea whilst I was in the pits of my writers block!!! thanks girl, I can't tell you how much this helped. anyway, REQUESTS ARE OPEN and I advise you to use them! now please enjoy my revival piece!

Mikey has thought every possible thought he could have. He had run through every possible situation, every possible outcome, every possible setting, but damnit why was this so hard? He couldn’t do it. Not for the life of him.

He had browsed millions of travel blogs, pondering about every possible spot on earth to take you for the occasion. He had woken in and out of more jewelry stores in the past month than he had ever in his entire life. He had specifically stood in corner stores, reading the wedding catalogues in the magazine section trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do.

None of it helped.

Manjiro wanted it so bad. So so very bad. Every white dress he walked by, he envisioned you in it. Every bakery shop he passed, his eyes flitted up and down the fancy display cakes, pondering whether or not it would be good enough. Any time he woke up next to you, every time he joined you in the shower, every time he watched you cook, the urge to sink to one knee overtook him.

He knew he couldn’t make it that simple though. It was too domestic for him, so little of a gesture. He wanted you to know that he loved you, that he would bring you the moon if you wanted it. He needed you to see just how much he appreciates you for sticking with him through everything, and for that he needs a grand gesture.

However it seemed that nothing he could think of was quite big enough, quite meaningful enough, quite heartfelt enough. He was at the end of his wits. For one and a half months- seven weeks he had been fighting this battle alone.

He had made some progress in that time, having picked the ring because when he picked it up he just felt that this was the one. It was a niche store, and he was initially appalled by the average price of the rings, but decided, ah what the fuck? and entered the store for mostly shits and giggles. He was greeted by an expensive looking elderly gentleman who donned a monocle and silk gloves, clearly the clerk, and clearly an expert. He had the longest, most engaging talk with the man, explaining his situation and his frustrations, to which the man nodded understandingly and told of his own story and experience with marigge.

Seven long weeks he had kept it a secret from everyone, and now he couldn’t take it anymore.

He was just about to throw the towel on this whole thing and say fuck it and give up on this whole marriage thing and just accept that he would never make it, when he remembered that he didnt have to be alone in this. Not at all matter of fact. His best friend married his sister after all. If Ken could do it with the pressure of Shinichiro, Izana AND Mikey breathing down his neck, then surely he could do it too, right?

You were out on a girls night with Hinata, Senju and Yuzuha. Emma would have tagged along normally too, but with the addition of a new-born baby, she decided that it would be best to sit out this time. Either way you were out of the house for the night, and Mikey was left to his own devices. You had left him with a kiss and a home-cooked meal (which he felt bad about leaving behind so he completely stuffed himself before coming here) before he gave Ken a quick heads up over the phone that he was coming over with a VERY important problem.

Thats how he found himself here. Standing in the Kitchen of Emma and Ken‘s flat, hands perched on the counter, looking down at the surface, face in a deep frown. „What’s goin on? What’s the problem?“ Ken asks roughly, leaned on the refrigerator as he eyed his friend. Mikey didnt really respond though.

„What problem?“ Emma‘s voice was hushed as she entered through the kitchen door, pulling the door shut behind her, probably for the sake of the baby. „I dont know.“ Ken responded, rubbing his eyebrows „Ask your brother.“ he sighed as he gestured to Mikey who was still staring down the counter.

“Mikey?!” Emma sounded confused and a little concerned as she turned to look at him, eyes flitting between her brother and her husband. “Did you know he was coming over?”

Ken nodded wordlessly. “Said he needs our help about something.” Emma’s head tilted in question but accepted the fact. “What’s up Mikey?” She asked, approaching him and joining Draken at the other side of the counter.

Mikey didn’t say anything though, instead reaching into his pocket and producing a small, black, silk-encased box. He dropped it onto the table and looked up at the couple in desperation. “How do I do it?”

Ken gasped and felt his lips tug into a smile, happy that finally, finally Mikey was wiping you up (he had told him to do so since they were teens).

Emma slapped her hands over her mouth to muffle a silent scream, beginning to voice up and down on excitement as she realized- her brother was marrying you! She thanked the gods that Mikey fell in love with you because there was no better in-law than her Soulsister.

“Ahhhhh! Oh my goodness Mikey! I’m so happy for you! Can I see? Wow! Oh my god Ken are you seeing this!? He’s proposing! Ah I’m so glad!” Mikey nodded in response and let Emma pick up the box and crack it open, revealing the beautiful white-gold wedding band, encrusted with more diamonds than she could count. Notably, one large diamond sat in the middle of the ring, flanked by two smaller diamonds on each side.

“Oh.” Emma breathed. “Ken why didn’t you ask Manjiro for help when picking my ring?” Emma sounded slightly offended as she spoke, glaring down at the ring.

“Nah nah, don’t get it twisted girl. You told me what ring you wanted, I didn’t have much picking liberty other than the price.” Ken waved his hands in dismissal, brushing off her accusations with a grin still wide on his face. He made his way over to Mikey and clapped a hand on his shoulder, congratulating him for the occasion.

“Good on you man! Finally givin it the push, hah?” Ken was smiling as he searched for Mikey’s eyes, but he didn’t look up. “What’s up with the long face? You’re about to propose dude, you should be over the moon!”

Mikey sighed and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to propose to her for months. Months Ken. I can’t do it. It’s never right.”

The couple halted their celebrations and turned to look at Mikey again, Emma putting down the dainty box as her looks turns to one of concern. “What do you mean?” She fingered at the box as she leaned across the counter.

“It’s… i don’t know. Ken made it look so easy when he proposed to you, and Pah-chin was even more mindless about it! I really want to. I really do, but every time I get close, I chicken out because I get scared or because something isn’t right, and I’m starting to think that it’s better if I just… don’t.” Mikey sighed and cradled his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the counter.

Emma and Ken shared a look, a wordless exchange of worry and empathy. "What kind of proposal were you thinking of? Big? Small? Public? Private?" Emma started, hand rubbing soothingly across her brother's back.

"Big." Mikey mumbled into his hands, remaining hunched over the counter. "Big and public. I wanna make sure that everyone knows, everyone sees, I want them all to know. want them to know how much I love her."

Emma's eyes softened and she suppressed a smile, because all in all, it was cute. She had always known her brother to be big and strong, undefeatable, and most of all unwaverable. Mikey always put up the strong front when really, he was hurt. Vulnerability wasn't something that she was used to seeing from him, which made this moment all the more special.

"Do you want to go somewhere with her?" Ken steps in and asks, an idea arising. Mikey only grunts, a noise of agreement sounding through the room. "Do you know what kind of places she likes?" Ken continues.

Mikey's head slowly raises from the position on the table and he stares forward at the refrigerator. "Europe."

Emma and Ken looked at one another again, sensing that they were getting somewhere. "Then take her on Vacation. You both have that long shared break coming up, don't you? Travel through Europe and when it feels right, ask!" Ken said.

"How do I know when it feels right, though? What if it's not the moment?" Mikey asks, still not entirely convinced. "You'll know. I promise you, you'll know. I knew too and I didn't think I had the stuff to ever get married." Ken reassures again, and this time the two share eye contact, and it takes Draken a lot not to tear up.

Draken took a moment in his mind to look at Mikey. He had stuck by his side since they were kids, through thick and thin it's always been the two if them against the world. And now as he looked at Manjiro he no longer saw the unmatchable delinquent he saw ten years ago, but rather a distinguished person with complex thoughts and emotions. He saw a man that felt, a man that cared and a man that loved in front of him, and he couldn't be prouder.

Ken nodded at Mikey, and Mikey nodded back at him. "Yeah. She'll love it! Thanks, I'll do that! Gosh I don't know what id do without you two.."

"Oh, please propose to her in front of the Eifel Tower! Or the Coliseum! Or on some romantic Bridge in Venice!" Emma swooned and held her hands over her chest, hearts in her eyes.

Mikey smiled at her and nodded again. "I'll try and film it if I can."

The rest of the evening was spent with the three of them checking about a thousand booking sites, mapping travel routes and destinations, and the occasional cacophony of laughter which led to a grumpy Ryuguji-baby. Manjiro couldn't wait to go with you, he thought as he sat on one of the armchairs, gently running a thumb over the silk box that sat pretty in his hand.

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