Tumgik
#sort of worthy of a personal tag
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I’m forever going to be pissed off about how my ex was a dick to me about how I like villains
It’s not like I ran a Tumblr blog thirsting over an actual serial killer, she was just being a dick to me over pixels
She really thought she had the moral high ground because she ONLY likes heroes/good side characters while constantly comparing a character that I like to a real world piece of shit
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musical-chick-13 · 1 year
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#personal rant in tags#(because I NEED to get shit off my chest and I might as well put it here)#I HATE. /HATE/. how much stock we (as a society) put into how people look#I hate that there's bias in EVERYTHING toward people who naturally seem closer to some arbitrary standard of attractiveness#I hate how people are judged by their bodies and literally not anything else#I hate that I'm expected to completely overhaul my appearance and keep doing that day after day after day to be seen as worthy of#respect and support. I hate how many times I've been interested in someone only for people around me to say 'oh but they're not#hot why do you like them?' I hate how the only time someone has ever outright expressed interest in me is when I looked like someone else#I hate how I'm not the only person who has experienced this that I know SO many instances of this#AM I NOT WORTHY OF RESPECT JUST BY VIRTUE OF BEING A HUMAN? ARE WE NOT ALL DESERVING OF LOVE AND SUPPORT BECAUSE WE ARE ALIVE???#GENUINELY I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. YOUR OUTWARD APPEARANCE HAS /NOTHING/ TO DO WITH WHO YOU ARE AS A PERSON#IT DOESN'T INDICATE ANYTHING ABOUT HOW KIND OR UNDERSTANDING YOU ARE. WHAT YOUR INTERESTS ARE. WHAT YOU VALUE. HOW YOU SPEND YOUR TIME.#like...obviously I'm not perfect and I've still gotta de-internalize some stuff too!#but sometimes it feels like everyone is just so SHALLOW and JESUS fucking CHRIST am I /TIRED/#I have never been '''pretty''' I will never BE '''pretty''' WHY DOES THAT BOTHER PEOPLE SO MUCH???!!#like genuinely just. it's one of the (many) things that has driven a wedge between me and my mom. it's made dating almost impossible.#it made a career in stage acting so much harder than it already was. truly it has put me at some sort of disconnect with a lot of humanity#AND I'M SORRY BUT THAT IS SO FUCKING /STUPID/ IT SHOULDN'T BE LIKE THIS WHY AM I BEING JUDGED ON THESE GROUNDS#*sigh* this was another reason why letting go of Her™ was so hard tbh. she didn't care what anyone looked like not even me#she made me feel beautiful because she genuinely liked who I was as a person. the one time I had this and look where we ended up lmao#...god this not-relationship really fucked me up didn't it sometimes I forget how much everything hurt me and how far back I set myself#because of it#ANYWAY we're probably not gonna sleep tonight :)#In the Vents
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risustravelogue · 4 months
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Gifts of A Kind
Summary:
His love for you is the gift he's offering.
Featuring:
Zhongli, Alhaitham, Wriothesley
Tags:
Emotional hurt/comfort, love confessions, self-indulgent, reader has mental health issues and huge insecurity about her worthiness of being loved. Fem!Reader (referred to as a woman) who is having her birthday!
Note:
Me: Happy birthday to me! ��� Also me: *writes an emotional hurt/comfort piece with my favorites to cry* Haha. Also, I'm resting from the 1-week EBG grind, so have this for now. As always, enjoy~
🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗
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It’s another busy day at Bubu Pharmacy.
Sorting the medicinal ingredients in one of the back rooms, you were humming to yourself when a familiar baritone voice came from behind you.
“Happy birthday.”
You turn around to find your crush, the handsome consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, walking towards you with a huge bouquet of silk flowers, dotted with the biggest glaze lilies you’ve ever seen in your life.
“Zhongli! You remembered!” you squeal.
When the man you fancy remembers your birthday, you say thanks to Celestia above. Especially when he’s actually Liyue’s beloved archon.
—This is fine. He can never be mine, but I can have my small joys, can’t I?
“I have a gift for you,” he says with a playful lilt to his voice as he hands over the bouquet to you.
“You mean this pretty thing?”
He smiles. “No. It’s a surprise. Close your eyes.”
You obey. Your heart thumps with anticipation. Maybe you’re finally getting that cute hairclip you’ve been eyeing for a while? Or maybe…
Your thoughts dissolve into thin air when you feel a soft warmth pressing against your lips and the scent of his cologne entering your sense of smell. Your eyes flutter open to find your vision filled with him.
But it’s not joy you feel inside your chest—it’s dread.
You struggle in protest, only for him to snake his left arm around you and press his lips harder against yours. He takes the bouquet away from your hands and sets it on the table behind you while nipping at your lower lip, as if asking for permission. You put your hands on his chest and push him away, breathless.
“Why are you doing this?” you ask.
Zhongli blinks, surprised.
“I thought you wanted it. Was I wrong?”
You shake your head and offer him a frown. “Why?”
“Is that not obvious? I love you.”
—What?
“What did you just say?”
He smiles as he repeats, “I love you.”
“... Heh,” you chuckle, and it turns into a full-blown laughter. “You’re lying. You wouldn’t.”
He only stares into your eyes with those golden pupils of his, his soft expression still like the mountains. You shake your head, dispersing the thoughts that maybe, just maybe—
“No,” you say, shaking your head. “No one would, especially not you.”
You feel his left hand clench at the small of your back as his expression hardens. “Why not?” he asks.
A bitter smile grows on your lips. “You know why. I’m—you know. I’ll only be a burden for you. For anyone.”
“I can bear it, and you know that.”
“But I’m—I’m defective and you know it!” you shout, pushing him away to no avail. His eyes widen, his heart taken aback at how much you must have hurt. You feel your chest clench as you mutter, “I am not the right person for you.”
Zhongli sighs and caresses your cheek, so gently as if you are the most fragile piece of porcelain he has ever held.
“Listen. No one is perfect. Not even me. And you… you awaken something I have never felt in the thousands of years of my life. And I want—”
His lips quirk to form a painful smile.
“I want to keep you by my side, for as long as I am allowed.”
You chuckle bitterly as you slap his hand away.
“Stop it. I don’t want this. I don’t—you’re mistaken. You don’t love me. You can’t.”
Tears roll down your cheek as your fingers clench on the fabric of his suit.
“Please… you can’t.”
A heavy silence hangs between you. His fingers find their way under your chin, tilting your face up towards him.
“Look at me,” he whispers. You shut your eyes in defiance, and you can feel tears dripping down your chin.
“You are the kindest woman I know, and have a strength beyond what even most gods can comprehend. And please believe me when I say I have never met anyone like you in my life,” he says, his voice gentle like you’ve never heard before. You open your eyes to find his gaze looking softly into yours.
“I love you. I will be yours if you want me to.”
He smiles, and you can feel your heart melt.
“Let me be your strength, your rock, your home. Will my word as the God of Contracts do?”
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Expressive is one of the last attributes one would assign to the Scribe of the Akademiya, who also happens to be your longtime crush.
So you were surprised to find a saccharine sweet love letter in a pink envelope containing the words “I,” “love,” and “you”—in that order, next to each other—in his distinctly neat handwriting arriving at your doorstep on your birthday.
It’s not funny anymore, you think, deciding to confront him for playing with your feelings. You stroll to his office and bang at the door harshly, your face hot with anger.
“Come in,” the room’s owner says. You barge in, slamming the letter he sent you onto his desk.
“Out of all of your jokes, I rate this shit minus a hundred out of ten,” you say, voice shaking.
The silver-haired man tilts his head, seemingly confused. “What joke are you talking about?”
“This,” you smack the tip of your index finger onto the pink envelope, the force nearly ripping the paper in two. “This fucking letter, Alhaitham.”
“Oh, that,” he says with a smile. “I assure you, it’s not a joke.”
“Stop playing around!” you shout. “You said you love me, you liar.”
“Careful, I did say that, but my patience still has an end,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. He sighs. “Why would you say I’m lying?”
You scoff. “Because there’s no way, right? You’re perfect, men and women alike want your hand in romance, and you said you love me?”
You laugh derisively as you try to ignore the sharp pain penetrating your chest.
“You can’t love me. You can’t. I’m just a pathetic woman fumbling through life, unlike you. You’re fit as a fiddle while I have to take medication every single night, else my sanity would crumble like dust. I’m a burden to everyone I’ve ever cared about. So please, just stop.”
You feel your lips tremble as you grit your teeth in pain. Alhaitham frowns.
“Yes, I know about all that. I still love you, though.”
“Shut up, Haitham.” You lower your head and turn away, stifling back a sob. “I don’t deserve you. Nobody wants me, and that should include you.”
He slams his fists against his desk as he stands up, making you jump in surprise at his loss of composure. He saunters over around the desk and stops in front of you, his much taller figure looming over your head. His hands find their way to squeeze your shoulders.
“Who hurt you?” he demands, his palms trembling in quiet rage. “I swear I’ll hunt them down and make them suffer for making you think so lowly about yourself.”
“No one,” you lie. The pain in your chest pulses. “I’m just stating the truth.”
“It’s not the truth,” he says, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. “One as strong as you shouldn’t have such a low opinion of themselves.”
He lowers his head to meet you in a slow kiss. A tear rolls down your cheek as you relish the feel of his soft lips against yours.
“There,” he mumbles after pulling back. “Now do you believe me?”
“I don’t want to,” you finally admit, tears now streaming down your face. “I can’t.”
“Then—give me the chance to prove my love for you. Please,” he says while pulling you close. You shut your eyes, taking in his presence like a thirsty deer greedily drinking from the water’s surface. The words he whispers next have a certain promise woven into them.
“I am going to make you the happiest person in the universe.”
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The Duke of the Fortress of Meropide looks a bit different than usual today. You are certain of that.
Whenever he catches sight of you, he’ll either hum tunes to himself, smile like an idiot, or walk towards you with a skip in his step that others barely miss.
Too bad you’re only his personal mechanic. Pointing his strange behavior out is way above your pay grade.
… Which is what you’ve been saying to yourself, but your feelings, your amour for him screams and rebels inside your chest, threatening to spill into the flirty sentence of “Wow, someone sure is happy to see me.” You bite on the insides of your cheeks to hold it back. After all, he knows that you’re literally sick in the head, and he wouldn’t want someone like you by his side.
He would never, ever fall in love with you.
But, if that is true… what is that beautiful bouquet of Rainbow Roses doing in his hands, then?
“Happy birthday, wonderful woman,” he greets, a grin plastered across his face. “Please accept this duke’s gratitude.”
“Gratitude?” you ask, folding your hand over your chest where your heart is—the organ working super hard to pump more blood to your already-pink cheeks.
“Yes. Gratitude for all the work you’ve done,” he says in a sing-song voice.
You sigh, trying to rein in the butterflies in your stomach. “Wriothesley, I’m not an idiot. I know what Rainbow Roses mean.”
His smile turns melancholic.
“So what do you say?”
You harden your expression, trying to keep your tone as flat as possible.
“I’m sorry… I can’t.”
An uncomfortable silence goes on for a few seconds.
“Sure you can. Why not? I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
“No, I can’t. Now please stop this nonsense, Boss.”
He takes a step closer, and you take a step back.
“Go away,” you say, turning away from him while stifling back a sob. “I can’t have you.”
He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You can. I want you to have me.”
You shake your head and shrug him off, tears starting to roll down your cheeks as the pain in your chest grows stronger.
“I can’t! I won’t burden you with… with me, of all things!”
“Stop saying that!”
Before you can react, he turns you around and pulls you into him, wrapping you with his strong arms like he’s protecting you from the cold, cruel world.
“Please stop saying that. You’re not a burden. You are never a burden.”
You try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. His shushes drown your grunts of struggle.
“Let me go. Please, I can’t want this—I can’t want you,” you finally plead, but he only pulls you closer, trapping your hands between your chest and his. You limp, pathetic sobs filling the air as you finally surrender.
“You want to know a secret?” he asks. He does not wait for your answer.
“I think you’re perfect. The way you pursue growth, the way you love. You are the most precious thing I have in my life,” he says, his voice half a whisper. “I am eternally thankful for you. Thank you for coming into my life. I’m at my best when I’m with you, and I don’t only mean because you can fix my gauntlets.”
His embrace tightens around you. You can feel his growing stubble rub against your temple.
“And if I don’t at least try being with you, I’m sure I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
He sighs as he presses his lips to the crown of your head, the warmth sending goosebumps across your skin.
“I want to be your home. I want… no, I need you by my side,” he continues.
Your grip on his vest tightens as you feel him bury his face into your hair.
“I love you. I love you so much, my heart hurts every moment I remember that you’re not mine,” he whispers. He pulls back, only to press his lips against yours in a slow, gentle kiss the next moment.
“Please… be mine. I will never let you down. That’s my vow to you, and I intend to keep it for the rest of my life.”
He looks into your eyes, his gaze as gentle as a beautiful snowflake. You tiptoe a bit to meet him in another kiss. He chuckles as he returns the favor with passion.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
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© @risustravelogue 2024 • FEEDING THIS WORK TO GENERATIVE AIs IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. • do not repost. • reblogs are precious. • feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. 💖
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islandofsages · 5 months
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Hi, can I ask the dorm leaders with a student (male) who is extremely good in all academic subjects, ranking among the top 5 in the test rankings, but is extremely stupid in all other factors, for example if someone tries to bully with him, he had politely asked the person to apologize.
characters: the housewardens x male reader
tags: platonic, fluff + crack, imagines format; azul mention in riddle's, riddle mention in azul's, jamil mention in kalim's, vargas mention in vil's, ortho mention in idia's
warnings: alarming stupidity nothing
author's notes: this is such a fun prompt omg i love dumbasses
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Riddle Rosehearts
He finds your grades quite impressive - though you can’t cut through his and Azul’s rankings, you manage to land the third place at least
He admires and respects your diligence in studying; if you’re a Heartslabyul student, he’ll consider you a great candidate for the seat of housewarden (or at least vice position)
But then he stumbles upon you one day doing… something? What are you doing?
You’re… crouching in front of a bug. Okay well, maybe you’re studying it
Upon closer inspection though, it looks like you’re… crying? Are you mourning??
The bug’s not even dead. It’s just lying down. You’re seriously mourning a bug that’s actually alive.
He doesn’t want to think it nor does he actually believe you’re like this. But he feels you’re being really stupid at the moment
Then he thinks that again. When you’re doing another stupid thing. Yet you continue to dominate the class rankings
He’s confused. Really confused. 
He stops doubting the duality of man because of you.
Leona Kingscholar
He thinks you’re not half-bad for a herbivore (or well, if you’re a beastman, good for you too)
If you’re a member of Savanaclaw, he’s grateful to have one more guy who can contribute to the decreasing of the dropout rates
That is, until he sees you being cornered by what seems to be a group of bullies
He sighs tiredly at the thought of having to break up a fight again and walks over to you guys, fully expecting you to be in some kind of trouble
But… you’re scolding the bullies instead? And they actually seem apologetic
Did you really ask a group of bullies to apologize for trying to bully you?
He’s unsure if you’re the oblivious one here or the bullies; you’re supposed to feel victimized. Or maybe the bullies are so bad at bullying they don’t affect you in the least??
He doesn’t know what to make of this. But he supposes as long as you don’t make any trouble for him, he doesn’t give a damn
Then he sees more bullies try to get you to give up your wallet to them
Okay, maybe he’ll give at least two damns.
Azul Ashengrotto
A worthy contender to his and Riddle’s rankings? People like you don’t just come by every day
Definitely considers you a valuable asset of some sort… or at least a valuable friend!
So of course, he’d like to interview you on how you got to this level, definitely no other ulterior motives at all
You two sit down in the Mostro Lounge one day, everything is pleasant and comfortable, and you’re just chilling. He starts with a simple question: how do you study to get such good grades?
You ruminate the question for a minute, thinking hard, when you eventually come to the conclusion
“I mean. I just study like the normal person does. Five minutes before the exam itself, I’ll run through whatever notes I have.”
…What?
He’s not sure if you’re actually really stupid to study five minutes before an exam or really smart that you can ace exams with just five minute study sessions
He continues to interview you and he discovers more about how much of a dumbass you actually are but he endures it just for the sake of knowing your actual secrets
You better watch your back.
Kalim Al-Asim
He looks up to you so much, he practically begs you to tutor him so he doesn’t bother Jamil as much 
So you do, just for the hell of it and maybe because of the money too
And it works! He’d come running to you, excitedly showing you his grades from the last exam and you’re genuinely proud of his improvement
He likes running up to you either way - and one day when he does, he runs into you… reading a book upside down?
“Oh, hey Kalim. You know, I found this book one day and I thought I’d give it a read but I can’t understand a single thing…”
He wants to say something. Specifically about you reading said book the wrong way (literally)
…But what if you’re right? Maybe it is meant to be read upside down and you’re just not understanding it because it���s in some ancient language?
You two go to Jamil for once since he seems to be as proficient, if not more, in ancient magic than the both of you
You were excited at the idea that there’s still new stuff out there you have yet to discover
Needless to say though, your excitement dies the moment Jamil finishes listening to your explanation and you two become the victim of his two-hour lecture.
Vil Schoenheit
You’ve gained his respect. A rare honor from the Fairest Queen himself, you think
He would consider you an equal… if it weren’t for the fact of, well, you’re pretty oblivious in literally everything else
He’ll never forget the day where your natural stupidity outshone your class ranking… because it involved Vil himself
You were in a joint PE class together (or if you’re classmates then just a regular class) and it gave both of you the opportunity to talk to each other a bit
It’s a nice little conversation until you say-
“Also… what’s Vargas’ last name anyway?”
Vil blinked once. Then twice. What did you just ask him?
Vargas. Is the last name. His full name is Ashton Vargas. It’s pretty common knowledge considering how much the guy himself says it. He relays that information to you
You let out a dragged out “Oh” and nodded understandingly. Oh, you were being genuine.
Now he doesn’t want to assume from just one interaction but every other interaction with you just proves his point - and the thing is he actually finds it kind of amusing.
Idia Shroud
Wow, someone who’s almost as prodigious as he is, how impressive (he’s being half-sarcastic, half-genuine here)
It is somewhat difficult to find some intelligent life in NRC sometimes. But then you end up being one of them anyway (yet also not really?)
Like you’re always in the top 5 when it comes to exams but then he sees you doing stuff like what you did yesterday…
He was outside for once, taking a walk since Ortho insisted, and he bumps into you on the main street
He didn’t think twice about what you were doing; you were merely staring up at the King of Beast’s statue, finger under your chin, eyes squinted. It’s obvious you were deep in thought
Until he walked by you, hearing you talk to yourself
“...What kind of animal is he anyway? A cat? A tiger?? A panther???”
??? Is it not obvious???
He debated on actually telling you what kind of animal the King of Beasts was but… somehow it’s funnier to leave you in the dark like that
He’ll never get over how you keep calling the King of Beasts a panther, mainly because it riles the Savanaclaw students up.
Malleus Draconia
You’re a curious little thing to him - he wonders how you’ve come to know so many things
Or at least, seem so… you may ace your exams but he comes to notice that it’s not consistent across all boards
He just got back from touring Ramshackle’s exterior for the umpteenth time when he sees you chilling in the Diasomnia lounge
You are talking to another student, which is normal and all, but your response makes him do a double take
“I just think they shouldn’t put mushrooms in mushroom soup! And not make it taste like mushrooms! It just has to look and feel like thick soup!”
But… those are what make mushroom soup… mushroom soup.
He doesn’t even feel that strongly towards mushroom soup! Why is he trying to defend mushroom soup??
It’s not outright stupid but… it certainly is a bold take that could be a pipeline to be dumb
Malleus tries not to judge; you have your qualities and flaws that make you special
But when you bring your complaint to the cafeteria staff, that’s where he draws the line and stops you for the sake of everyone’s sanity.
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nichuuu · 10 months
Text
Je T’aime
(Yeowooya part 2)[ft. Joy]
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Tags: Fluff, angst, titfuck, riding, standing doggy, facial Word count: 9k+
You took a sip of water from the cup before you. Just behind the screen of your laptop, you could see Joy biting her lip in concentration. The ample lighting of her apartment saved you from another migraine as you scrolled through the document sent to you, and it also allowed you to watch her adjust the oversized shirt over her petite frame. You’d both woken up after a crazy round of sex, now it was time to work. 
“Would ‘flamboyance’ be the right word to describe this?” Joy inquired. Setting your cup down, you replied. “I think ‘grandeur’ would be a little more suitable…”
She hummed in agreement and typed away. 
“You know, you look pretty cute with those glasses,” she complimented. Your contacts had dried up earlier that day, leaving you with no other option but to put on your spectacles. You always felt rather self-conscious with the round, clunky frames sitting atop your nose. It felt nice to hear a compliment about them. 
“Do you want me to wear them around more often?” You grinned.
“Maybe,” She replied cheekily. You shot her a look.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really fucking confusing?” You inquired. 
“Maybe…”
You rolled your eyes and took your glasses off. It’d been awhile since you wore them. The weight on your nose bridge was irking you a little. You set it down on Joy’s dining  table, closing your eyes to give yourself a small break. 
“Hm…” You heard Joy hum. You could visualise the pout on her face as she vocalised her moment of thought. 
“Need help?” you offered. 
You heard a faint rustle. Your eyes snapped open. 
Your specs were on Joy’s face. 
“Wow… You’re degree’s pretty low,” she remarked, “Why don’t you just wear these babies around everywhere?”
You stretched out your hand. “Give them back.”
Joy smirked.
“That’s no way to talk to your teammate!” 
You rolled your eyes. 
“Give them back please,” you corrected yourself. Joy tapped a finger on her chin, as if she needed the combined power of her five remaining brain cells to come to a decision. 
“No,” she eventually answered. 
A regular person would be a little ticked off by her behaviour, but you liked her enough to put up with her shit.
You heard Joy slide your spectacles back across the table.
“Don’t be annoyed, Ahjussi,” she teased you.  
Retrieving your specs, you replied. “I’m not annoyed.” 
And you were telling the truth.
You heard Joy let out a soft giggle before she resumed her work. It’d been a few weeks after your getaway with her. When you returned back to the office after your time on the beach, you were delighted to hear that your entire team had been dragged through the mud by just about every executive. They gave you the tongue lashing of your life, screaming all sorts of slurs and expletives. Out of courtesy, you apologised, but you did your best to hide a sly grin as you made eye contact with Joy. 
A few hours after you got back, you were called into your boss's office. When you entered, you found Joy seated opposite your boss. As it would turn out, your boss had been monitoring both your work and Joy’s work—despite the fact that she was under different management—and decided that you were both worthy of a promotion. And so, you and Joy began your new journey in a new department as teammates. Better teammates, better desk space, better pay… 
The first couple of days were fine for the both of you. You both acclimatised quickly to the new nature of your work and quickly learnt the process of the strange new place you had been promoted to. It felt unusual to have teammates that actually did work that they promised to do, and it was definitely out of the ordinary to be treated to coffee by your juniors in the team. It was an odd new experience, but you grew to like it.
With the convenience of being located to the desk next to yours, Joy was more playful than ever. When she was in a good mood, Soo-young would drop by and check up on you, leaving all sorts of snacks. When she felt like crap, Joy would sneak into your space to “consult” you, which was code for asking you to meet her in the bathroom for a quickie. Interactions with her became more frequent, and each exchange you had with her made that funny, fluttering feeling you’d experienced in the Chalet grow.
After about a week of working with her, you figured out that you had a crush on Joy. 
“Help me read this email real quick,” she requested. You slid your spectacles back onto your face.
Joy slid her laptop across the table. You spun the screen around so that you could read.
“I think I did a pretty good job. You can feel my sincerity emanating from it,” she mused. She stood up and walked around the table to settle on the chair next to you. 
“We’ll see…” you muttered, scrolling to the top of the page. Her leg brushed against yours. You felt the hairs on your body stand.
You thoroughly proofread Joy’s long email to one of the clients that she’d been assigned to reach out to. She’d always been a good writer, and you knew because you’d read countless emails for her. There was never much that needed to be amended or added in her emails, maybe a few small grammatical errors or punctuation mistakes here and there. You remember that she’d once wanted to pursue a career in writing while she was in highschool, but her parents shut her down the moment she brought it up. 
“Looks decent,” you remarked, sliding her laptop back to her.
“That’s it? Just ‘decent’?” Joy interrogated. 
Giving her a look, you answered. “What the fuck do you want me to say?”
“A compliment would be nice.”
You rolled your eyes. 
“Fine… Your email’s good,” you obliged. 
“Thank you,” Joy smiled. She seemed satisfied with your new response.
You chuckled to yourself and closed your laptop. 
“I refuse to believe that no one has ever told you how confusing you are,” you told her frankly. With a shrug, Joy replied, “It’s because I don’t hang out with naggy uncles like you.”
“We’re the same age, Soo-young.”
“But that doesn’t make you any less of an uncle…”
You picked up your notebook and lightly smacked her over the head. Joy pouted, a feigned look of pain on her face. 
“Keep up the act and I’ll smack you even harder,” you warned her, shaking the notebook in your hand for extra emphasis.
“Alright…” Joy groaned, “Jeez… Take a joke will you?”
“I can take a jokes. Your jokes are just bad,” you smirked. 
“Take that back,” she ordered. 
With a wink, you shot back, “Make me.” 
Joy took a good look at you. You blinked, and she was on you the next moment. Her hands cupped your cheeks, nails tracing circular patterns on your face. 
“Take it back…” she whispered. 
If this happened before you learnt of your crush on Joy, you would’ve reacted normally—Grab her ass, kiss her, scoop her up and take her to the bedroom… You could probably write a five page essay on the various ways you’d own her. 
But it was different now.
You found your heart palpitating in your chest. Your palms were sweaty, your arms stiff at your sides. All the retorts that you came up with instantly left you. 
There was only one question on your mind.
“What’s wrong… Cat got your tongue?” Joy chuckled.
She was pinching your cheeks now, kneading with the soft flesh on your face like a child with playdoh. 
“Is it my turn to be in control?” she asked, “Oh I have been waiting for—”
“What are we to each other?” you interrupted. 
A look of confoundment crossed her face. 
“H-Huh?” 
Her hands stopped fidgeting and fiddling with your face. She looked you in the eyes. 
“What… What are we, Soo-young?” you asked once more. Joy blinked.
“I… Don’t know…” she admitted, “What do you… Want us to be?” 
You looked away for a moment. Now was the opportune moment to ask her out, yet something was weighing down on your heart. Hesitation seemed to be present in every cell of your body, but you were compelled to speak your mind.
“I… I want to date you Soo-young,” you blurted. 
You hardly used her name yet it seemed to roll off your tongue so easily. Joy seemed at a loss for words. Silently, she slipped off you and sat back down on her chair. You swallowed the saliva that was accumulating in your mouth.
“Look… I-I know this is a little sudden and all…” you began. She raised a hand to cut you off. You zipped up as she spoke.
“We… Can’t date,” she told you, a grim look on her face. Your heart sank to your stomach.
Joy pursed her lips. She rubbed her palms against her thighs, her head turning to look out of her apartment window. 
“I don’t have anything against you,” she clarified, “It’s just… I… I don’t think we should be in a serious relationship.”
You nodded solemnly, understanding where she was coming from. You had a feeling that she wouldn’t feel the same way about you, but her rejection still hurt nonetheless. 
“Oh…” you muttered. “I… I see…”
Joy sighed heavily. 
“Look… I…” she started, “I… I think I’ll need some time to think by myself…” 
You nodded. You wanted to respect her decision, yet the urge to try and talk things out with her threatened to overpower your thoughts. You grabbed your laptop and stood up before you let your emotions get to your head. 
“I’ll leave then,” you announced. 
She looked up at you. Her mouth opened. You hoped that she’d say, “Wait”, tell you to sit down and talk things out with her… 
She closed her mouth and let out a shaky breath. She had no words for you, and you decided that you didn’t have any words for her either. 
You packed your things into your bag. You could feel her watching, silently observing you stuff your things into your bag. You knew that things wouldn’t be the same between the both of you from now on, and it was your fault.  You shouldered your bag and headed over to her door. Your hand hovered over the doorknob for a few seconds, a naive part of you hoping for her to call you back. 
But when you looked back at her, she was staring at the floor. There was an unreadable expression on her face, a mix of emotions you’d never seen before. 
“Joy…”
She turned her head. You gave her a small smile. 
“I hope that… You can think this over,” you told her. 
She fixed you with a look—Unreadable.
“Y-Yea… I-I’ll try to…”
You smiled.
“Cool… See you I guess…”
Your hand gripped the cold doorknob. Everything you hoped to say had been said. You opened the door and left her apartment. 
You did your best to not look back. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A heaviness in your heart plagued you for the rest of the week. A veil had shrouded your brain, your mind hazy and unfocused. Everything seemed to go by in a haze, bits of information entering your mind here and there as you sat at your desk and slogged away. 
All forms of conversation with Joy had ceased. You did your best to avoid her when you could, but there were inevitable moments like the times where you had to ride the same lift or print something at the same time. In those small moments, you’d shoot a small smile that was sometimes unreturned. You tried to talk to her every now and then, but she never seemed to be interested. It didn’t help that her desk was next to yours.
Loneliness had begun to set in by your second week without Joy. You never realised how much time you’d spent with her till she was completely removed from your life. There were times when the two of you were alone, and you had to fight the urge to call her name in those times, every fibre of your body fighting against the thought of just turning to her and asking to talk. It was hard to see her, and it was even harder to watch as she went about her day like you didn’t exist. 
By the first month, you’d accepted the fact that Joy would never rethink her feelings for you. It was foolish for you to ever think that she’d give it a second thought. You weren’t sure why you genuinely thought that there was hope.
By the third month without her, you were slowly getting accustomed to your new way of life. There was still the dull throb of emptiness in your heart, but you learnt to cope with it by drowning yourself in work.
By the fifth month, you thought you were okay. But that was when Joy texted you. 
It was late. Joy had gone home long ago. When you saw her name pop up on your notification centre, your fingers froze on your keyboard. You stared at your phone screen, silently looking at the icon till your screen turned off. It took you a good moment to come back to your senses before you actually opened your chat with her.  
We should talk. 
You found yourself stunned by the three words she’d sent over a minute ago. Memories that you’d taken months to shut out were flooding back. You typed a reply.
Ok. 
The message was instantly seen. The three dots appeared, moving in a wave as she typed something back. 
We need to talk in person. 
Are you free this weekend?
You raised an eyebrow. When you were still in contact with Joy, she’d always told you that weekends were reserved for her to be by herself. She was strict on this rule, but she was making an exception now. You quickly checked your calendar for the weekend. There was nothing.
Yeah. 
The three dots reappeared. 
Ok. 
She sent you an address, and a quick check on your maps revealed a house that you’d never seen before in your life. It was somewhere off in the outskirts of the city, a long 3 hour drive from your place.
Meet me here at 2pm. See you.
You had questions for her, questions that needed answers instantly, but you decided to reserve them for the day itself.
The weekend rolled around quickly. You couldn’t sleep in the days leading up to your meeting… There was too much to think about.
The drive to the place was somewhat pleasant aside from your heart hammering in your ribcage. You ended up reaching 10 minutes earlier than the meeting time. In an act to not look desperate, you waited till the clock struck two before exiting your car. 
You rang the bell at the cargate and waited. Tje cat in the driveway looked like Joy’s, but you weren’t too sure. The gate opened after a few seconds, a rather loud grinding sound filling the air as it slowly rolled open. You entered the property, stepping around the car and heading towards the door. 
The door to the house opened as you approached. A little girl who looked no older than five stood before you, holding the door open with her tiny little body. You stopped in your tracks. 
“Who are you?” the child asked. 
“H-Hi… I-I’m looking for Jo—I mean… Soo-young,” you told her, “A-Am I at the right place?”
The girl stared at you for a bit before turning her head into the house and screaming, “MOM! SOMEONE’S AT THE DOOR!”
You felt yourself blush as you realised that you probably got the wrong address. 
“S-Sorry… I-I think I might’ve…”
You trailed off when Joy appeared behind the girl. You locked eyes with her. 
She smiled softly.
“Hey…” she greeted you, “Long time no see…”
You blinked, standing there like a deer in headlights. The girl looked up at Joy.
“Mom? Why is he staring at you like that?” she inquired. Joy laughed nervously. 
“He hasn’t seen mommy in a long time,” she explained, “Go inside and help mommy get our guest a drink okay?” 
“Okay!” the child beamed. She waddled into the house, leaving you and Joy alone at the front door. She opened the door a little wider and stepped aside. 
“Let’s talk inside,” she told you. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”
“R-Right…” You replied. 
You took off your shoes and entered the strange domain. Old cabinet supporting new flatscreen TV, old book on new coffee table, old clock ticking away next to an even older photo… The place was furnished as if two timelines had collided in the same house. The place clearly wasn’t Joy’s judging by the numerous pieces of furniture that strayed ever so far from her taste. Many things seemed rather out of place, yet there was an oddly homey feel to the house. 
Soo-young led you to the couch and gestured for you to sit. She waited for you to settle down before seating about an arms length away from you. 
“So… How have you been?” she asked first. 
You shifted in your seat and replied, “I’ve been… Alright… How about you?” 
Pinnochio would be jealous of you. 
“I’ve… Been doing a lot of thinking,” she chuckled, “a solid five months of thinking… It’s more tiring than you’d expect…”
The sound of clinking tore your gaze away from Joy. The child came waddling back from the kitchen, carrying a tray that held two glasses filled with golden liquid and topped with a generous amount of ice. She walked past Joy and bee lined it for you. 
“Here you go sir! Apple juice!” she declared. You graciously accepted the beverage, the sickly sweet scent of the nectar wafting into your nose. 
“Thank you,” you smiled. The girl returned a smile before turning to Joy. Joy chuckled and lifted the glass off the tray with elegance. 
“Thank you Yeon-su,” she smiled, ruffling the girl’s hair with her free hand. 
“No problem mommy!” the child grinned, “can we go play when you're done?”
“Sure thing honey. Give mommy and her friend some time okay?” Joy requested.
“Okay! Don’t take too long!” the girl chirped before skipping away. 
Joy turned back to you. 
“She’s so precious isn’t she?” she mused. 
“I… How old is she?” you inquired. 
“Four. Going five in two months,” she answered. 
Four years… She’s had a daughter for four years. 
“Is… She adopted or…” you continued to probe. You knew that you were pushing boundaries here, but Joy didn’t seem to be uncomfortable.
“No… She’s mine,” she replied. You sat there in silence. Joy gave you time to process these new pieces of information in silence as she sipped on her apple juice. 
“So… You’re… Married?” you blurted. Joy laughed. 
“Married? God no!” she spat. 
You stared at the ice in your glass, the slowly melting solids an excellent representation of what your brain felt like. Nothing was making sense. Joy? A mother? You began to wonder how much you actually knew about her. 
“What…” you muttered, “Why… Why didn’t you say anything about this?”
You felt like an asshole for asking such a question. It sounded like it was expected of her to let the whole world know that she had a child. Joy sighed and leaned forward. 
“I… I was just getting to that,” she whispered. 
She swirled her apple juice for a bit. 
“Look,” she started, “I… I’ve been meaning to—”
“MOMMY!” 
Joy’s head instantly snapped towards the direction of her child’s voice. She set down her glass and bolted towards the kitchen. You quickly put down your glass and tailed after her. You followed her into the kitchen and stepped out a glass door into a backyard. 
“What is it, Yeon-su?” Joy inquired, worry in her voice. With a tear stricken face, the little girl pointed to a tree.
“My… M-My football!” she wailed. You looked up and quickly spotted the outline of the black and white ball. It was nestled in between two tree branches, perched like a bird in its nest. Joy drew in a breath. 
“Damn… That’s pretty high up,” she muttered. She looked back down at her child. 
“It’s okay Yeon-su, mommy will get you a new one,” Joy assured her daughter. 
“No! I-I don’t w-want a new one!” the child whined. “I want to keep this ball! No new ball!”
Joy pursed her lips. 
“Sweetie…” she attempted to allay her child. But her daughter was having none of it. 
“I WANT MY BALL BACK! I WANT MY BALL BACK!”
Joy squeezed her eyes shut, her forehead creasing as her brows furrowed. It’d been a while since you’d seen her this stressed. She looked like she was on the verge of letting out a cuss. You examined the tree again. It wasn’t too tall, growing maybe a centimetre or two above the roof of the house. 
Maybe it was your feelings for her, maybe it was your conscience… Something compelled you to act before Joy’s stress levels got out of hand. You walked towards the tree trunk and circled it, looking for a low hanging branch. You found one, muttered a quick prayer, then jumped and wrapped your legs around the bark to start climbing. The coarse bark provided ample grip, allowing you to quickly move up to the lowest branch and get atop of it. You straddled the branch, craning your neck upwards to see how far up the ball was. It wasn’t too far up. 
“H-Hey! W-What are you doing?” Joy asked, “get down! You’ll hurt yourself.”
You ignored her and climbed up to the next branch. You were grateful that its branches weren’t spaced too far from each other. You could use small bursts of energy and rest for a bit on each sturdy branch. 
You did your best not to look down, your hands already shaky and your palms sweaty from just the feeling of being high up. It didn’t take long to reach it, and a simple smack was all that was needed to get it off the tree.
Satisfied, you descended back down from the tree. Getting down was much easier than climbing up, but the fact that you had to look down made it feel harder than it should’ve been.
Even when your feet were on solid ground, your hands continued to tremble. Joy was waiting for you at the base of the tree, a sincere look of worry on her face.
“You okay? You’re really pale,” she checked in. You managed a nod. 
“I’m… Fine,” you assured her shakily.
“You sure?” she confirmed, “You look like you’re gonna shit yourself…”
You nodded once more. Joy’s daughter walked up next to her mother, a bright smile on her face. 
“Thank you mister!” she exclaimed.
You waved it off, beginning taking deep breaths to calm yourself down. Joy’s daughter turned to look at her mother. 
“I like him, Mommy. Can he be my new Daddy?” 
Joy looked like she’d just been shot in the chest. Her daughter looked up at her innocently, examining her mother’s face with an unwavering expression. She caught your gaze, a certain look behind her eyes. 
“I…” she trailed off. There was something going on behind her eyes, something unfamiliar and new. It was that unreadable expression, the same expression she’d fixed you with all those months ago.
Even now, you still couldn’t figure out what it meant.
Joy quickly looked away, blinking rapidly as she turned her daughter around. 
“Let’s go inside Yeon-su…” she instructed. 
“But you didn’t—”
“Let’s go inside,” Joy repeated. Yeon-su seemed to get the message. The fierce tone of her mother didn’t stop the girl from looking back at you as she walked back towards the house. Over her shoulder, the little girl gave you another one of those beaming smiles. 
For a brief moment, you couldn’t tell Yeon-su apart from her mother. 
You followed the mother-daughter duo back into their abode. Joy took her daughter upstairs to settle her down. Joy came back down a few minutes later. 
“I gave her a colouring book… That should occupy her for some time,” she mused, “Sorry for her behaviour just now… I didn’t expect her to—”
“What happened to Yeon-su’s father?” you interjected. Joy licked her lips and stared at her feet for a moment.
“He um… He left.”
You regretted asking. 
“O-Oh…” you muttered, “I-I’m… I’m sorry.”
Joy chuckled, but her laughter couldn’t hide the brief flash of pain that crossed her features.
“I-It’s fine…” she assured you, “the whole reason I asked you here was to show you Yeon-su…”
She raised her head, caught your gaze.
“She’s the reason I can’t date you.”
You felt the air grow heavy. 
“W-What?” you stammered. 
Joy let out a shuddering sigh.
“Look… I just need you to hear me out now,” she requested, “once I’ve said what I need to say… You’re free to go.”
Your silence was consent. Soo-young pursed her lips.
“I… I like you… I really, really like you,” she whispered, “I’ve liked you for a long time, and… I was so happy when you asked me out. It… felt like a dream come true…”
You remained silent to let her speak. She continued.
“I’ve always wanted to be something more with you, to be more than just friends with benefits… But… It can’t be that way, not when I have Yeon-su.” 
A tear rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, sniffling as she did so. 
“I… I can’t ask you to accept the fact that I have a child. I-I can’t make you just… Bear with the fact that I’m just some whore that got herself pregnant…”
Joy folded her arms over her chest and looked at the ground. There was mucus dripping down her nose that she didn’t bother to wipe. It pained you to see her like this—slowly breaking down in front of you in a moment of vulnerability. Joy had always been playful, naughty and a little cocky around you. You knew her as someone who had the perfect blend of beauty and adorability, someone who always had a smile on her face. Now she was revealing a new side to you, and she had chosen to show this side to you. 
In a way, you felt honoured. 
“And even if you could accept me for who I am and what I’ve done… I can’t ask you to accept that I’ll have to love my daughter over you at times,” she said.
She combed a hand through her hair. The unreadable expression had made its way back into her face. This time, you could see past it.
It was pain. Joy was in pain.
“I’m such an ass aren’t I? I’m making it seem like Yeon-su’s the one standing between you and me…” Joy chuckled bitterly, “That sweet girl did nothing wrong… This whole situation is my fault.”
You stood rooted to the spot, letting the wave of information and emotions wash over you. There were lots of things going through your head and your heart, it felt a little hard to breathe. Joy remained where she was, shoulder shuddering and quaking as she let her hair shroud her face. 
“So… This is why… We can’t date” she strained, “That’s… That’s all I have to say. You… You can go now.”
You watched her wipe her face with the sleeve of her shirt. There was a heaviness in your chest, a stone that weighed down on your heart as you realised that Joy had been battling with these thoughts for months. 
“Soo-young,” you called her softly. She shook her head. 
“N-No… Don’t say anything…” she breathed, “I think it’s best if we leave things here… No hard feelings, no regrets… No secrets left to hide.”
You could feel a tear make its way down your face. You wanted to respect her choice, respect her choice the way you did five months ago… But you couldn’t this time. You knew that if you left your relationship this way, you’d never be able to repair it ever again.
“Go to her…” A small voice in your head urged. 
No regrets.
You slowly walked up to her. With tender care, you drew back the curtains of her hair—pushing the jet black strands out of her face and tucking them behind her ear. 
No regrets.
Her cheeks were wet, eyes puffy and squeezed shut. Gingerly, you reached under her chin and tilted her head up. There was not much to say, but there was much to do. 
No regrets.
You kissed her—a tender, simple yet complicated gesture. 
No regrets.
Joy never made any attempts to shy away. She willingly melted into you, a small whimper escaping her throat. You held her in your arms, feeling each shuddering breath she took send small shockwaves through your chest. You held her in your arms, a buzz filling your head as you let yourself absorb her scent, her taste—the familiar things about her that felt strangely alien in the moment. 
You broke away from her, panting lightly as you watched her slowly open her eyes. You were both crying for your separate reasons, but there was a shared sentiment between the both of you.
We can’t leave each other like this. 
You kissed her again. This time, her arms wrapped themselves around your neck, pulling you in and inviting you to combine with her. There was a longing, a craving that had to be fulfilled. It wasn’t the usual animalistic desire you felt for her. Rather, it was a lust for her love, a want for her close proximity. You wanted her in your life. You wanted to wake up beside her, brush her hair out of her face and kiss her good morning. You wanted to hold her hand as you walked with her in the park. 
You wanted Park Soo-young. 
But could you really look past the fact that she had a child? Could you really see love for who she was? Could you accept that her ex could possibly swoop in and complicate your life?
Well… You wouldn’t know if you didn’t try.
You let your lips leave hers, a brief moment of silence filling the spaces between your laboured breathings. 
“Soo-young…” You whispered, her name rolling off your tongue like it did five months ago. 
“Y-Yea?” she answered, entertaining you. 
Your hands slipped down to her lower back. 
“What if I can accept that you got yourself pregnant by mistake? What if I can accept that you have to love your daughter over me? What happens then?” you asked. Joy sniffled. 
“It’s… It’s not that simple,” she told you.
“It can’t be that complicated can it?” you challenged.
She gazed into your eyes.
“Be honest with me…” she requested, “could you really do that?”
You felt a small smile lightly tug up the corners of your lips.
“Why not?” you challenged, “do you really look down on me that much?”
She giggled, tingling a part of your brain that seemed to remember her laugh so fondly. 
“Well…” she whispered, “I… I guess there’s no harm in… Taking a chance.”
With a bold hope in your heart, you breathed, “Then take a chance on me Soo-young…”
Joy closed her eyes and let out a breath. 
“Just… Promise me that you’ll take care of me,” she pleaded. You nodded. 
“I’ll take care of both you and Yeon-su,” you assured her.
“That’s too much to ask of you,” she reasoned. 
“It’s not,” you whispered, “It won’t be too much for me if we do it together.”
Joy gazed into your eyes, searching your soul.
“Look at you…Going full Prince Charming to woo me,” she teased you.
With equal playfulness, you replied, “But you like the attention don’t you?”
“Maybe…” she smirked.
You both fell silent for a minute. After a while, Joy finally nodded. 
“I trust you to keep your word…” she smiled, “let’s date.”
Your cheeks had never stretched like this in your life.
“Let’s date,” you echoed. Joy reached up and cradled your face in her hands. She pulled you towards her, pressing her lips against yours, and you kissed her back with the biggest smile. 
“Ew…”
Joy quickly broke the kiss. She looked past your shoulder.
“Y-Yeon-su! W-What… What are you doing there!” she squeaked.
You turned and saw Joy’s daughter sitting on the steps, watching intently. 
“I thought you said that you were only friends Mommy?” the little girl questioned. Joy pulled away from you. 
“O-Oh… I-I um…” she stammered. 
As if urged by some comedic timing, the front door swung open. A middle aged woman waddled in, arms ladened with grocery bags.
“Aish… I can’t believe that they were all out of eggs!” the lady grunted as a middle-aged man followed in behind her. 
“You know how supermarkets are honey…” the man sighed, slipping on a pair of sandals.
“Why is it so cold there anyway? It’s like winter—”
The lady stopped when she caught sight of you. Her gaze transferred between you and Joy. 
“Soo-young?” she called, pointing a bony finger at you, “who is that?”
Joy cleared her throat. 
“O-Oh, this is um…” she struggled to answer, “this is… My friend…”
“THEY WERE KISSING GRANDMA! DON’T BELIEVE HER!” Yeon-su unhelpfully inputted. 
“Park Yeon-su!” Joy chided. 
“What? I’m telling the truth! You always told me to tell the truth Mommy,” the daughter rebutted. She clearly took after her mother. 
“Tsk… I… We…” Joy stuttered helplessly. The woman waved it off.
“Aish, we’ll talk about it some other time,” she grumbled. She pointed at you once more and said,  “You. Can you cook?”
“A-A little,” you answered honestly. 
“Good. We need as much help as we can get,” she mused, “date my daughter for all I care. Just don’t abandon her and Yeon-su like that last one.”
She walked past you with her grocery bags in hand. Just like Yeon-su, Joy obviously got her temper from her mother.
“Get in the kitchen! We have to start preparing for the party!” the lady barked. The man sighed. 
“Pardon my wife’s behaviour… She’s always grumpy before these types of things,” he apologised. He walked over and freed up a hand to give you a handshake.
“Welcome to our home. I take it that you’re Soo-young’s new boyfriend?” he asked, gripping your right hand in a firm yet friendly grip.
“U-Um… Y-Yes,” you managed to sputter. He nodded slowly, scanning you from head to toe. 
“I’m her father. Nice to meet you,” he grinned. He had a booming voice, a voice that could make you shit yourself if you heard it in an alley.
“You should come over again next week… I’d like to get to know you better.”
He released your hand and gave you a pat on the shoulder. Joy’s father disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you stunned in your place. 
“They’re pretty chill, don’t worry,” Joy assured you, “we’ll worry about impressions later… Let's go and help prepare the food before Mom decides to behead all of us.”
Joy quickly jogged off to join her parents in the kitchen. As you moved to follow her, you felt a small tug on your pant leg. You looked down. Yeon-su gazed up at you.
“So… Are you my new Daddy?” Joy’s daughter inquired. You smiled warmly and crouched down so you were at eye level with her. 
“I don’t know… Do you want me to be?” you offered. The girl pouted as she thought for a moment. 
“I… I think that would be nice,” she told you, “Please take care of us.”
It felt like a shot of sunshine had been injected straight into your heart. You chuckled nervously.
“I’ll… I’ll do my best Yeon-su…” you told her. The little girl raised her closed fist and stuck out her pinky. 
“Pinky promise?” she probed. You stuck out your own pinky and hooked it with hers.
“Pinky promise,” you echoed, “shall we go help your Mommy prepare?”
Joy’s daughter nodded enthusiastically.
“Let’s go Daddy!” she squealed before running off to join the rest in the kitchen. You stared at the entrance to the kitchen, thinking about what you’d thrown yourself into in the name of love. You were gonna have to get used to it if you wanted to keep your word to both Joy and Yeon-su. 
Joy stuck her head out the door. 
“Hey. You coming?” she asked. You nodded and rose to your feet. 
With newfound energy, you joined your girlfriend in the kitchen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
As it would turn out, the food that you’d painstakingly prepared was not meant for you. 
“Every other week or so, my parents organise a neighbour gathering at our place,” Joy explained as she loaded a duffle bag full containing a few sets of Yeon-su’s clothes. She shut the trunk and scooped her daughter up into her arms. 
Joy had an arrangement with her parents. On the weekdays when she was working, Yeon-su would stay with Joy’s parents and attend school in the nearby kindergarten. On weekends, Soo-young would stay over at her parents place and spend time with Yeon-su. However, today called for special arrangements.
“Are we going into the city again Mommy?” Yeon-su asked, eyes pooling with hope. 
“Only if you want to,” Joy replied.
“Yay!” squealed the little girl in her arms. Joy smiled and opened the door to the backseat. She gently deposited her child into her vehicle and shut the door. 
“Everytime they have a gathering, I take Yeon-su into the city and we stay at my place,” Joy told you.
“So that’s why you have that guest room,” you mused. She smiled and fished out her car keys. 
“Excellent link Sherlock. Catch.”
She tossed her keys to you and rounded the vehicle to the passengers side. You chuckled and got into the driver’s seat. 
The drive into the city didn’t feel as long as it was. Once in town, you settled on a ramen place and had one of the best dinners of your life with Joy and Yeon-su. Of course, an excellent dinner called for an equally satisfying dessert. Yeon-su practically dragged you over to a Gelato shop that she’d spotted along the way and attempted to order a double scoop of sea salt caramel for herself. Unfortunately for Yeon-su, her mother stepped in and stopped the order from going through. 
In many ways, Yeon-su was a mini replica of her mother. They shared the same feistiness, had the same mischievous glint behind their eyes. Of course, good traits like respect had been passed down as well. Joy’s daughter dished out thanks and greetings to waiters like Oprah Whinfrey, earning her multiple smiles as your servers swooned over her. 
“I think she’ll grow to be a fine woman,” you mused, watching as Yeon-su deftly scaled up a playground ladder. Joy's head rested on your shoulder as she idly sipped her yoghurt drink. 
“You think so?” Joy inquired. You nodded. 
“Yea… You raised her didn’t you?” you asked. Joy chuckled.
“It takes a village to raise that girl…” Joy muttered, “I’m just glad that my parents are here for me and her… I don’t want to imagine what life would be like if I hadn’t gone back to Mom and Dad.”
You found her hand and laced your fingers with hers. You felt her smile on your shoulder.
She gave your hand a squeeze. 
“This is nice…” she whispered.
“Yea… It really is,” you chuckled. You were getting Deja vu from your time with her on the beach. 
“You know… Even though Yeon-su was an accident, I never regretted keeping her,” Joy confessed, “She’s… She’s the second best mistake I’ve ever made.”
You raised an eyebrow. 
“Second best?” you mused, “What’s your best mistake then?”
“Do you really have to know?” she teased.
“I’d like to,” you answered. Joy giggled.
“Well since you insist,” she smiled, “I think… My best mistake was arriving late for that board meeting and sitting next to you.”
You could feel yourself blushing. 
“Aw shucks…” you muttered, “Hold up… Which part about that was the mistake?”
Soo-young shrugged and replied, “I guess we’ll never know…”
You clicked your tongue in annoyance. 
“Sly fox…” you muttered. Joy chuckled, clearly proud of herself.
Yeon-su eventually tired herself out. With leadened feet, she trudged back over to the bench and asked to be carried. You gladly scooped her up into your arms, and the precious girl fell asleep on the way back to the car. 
You found yourself back in the same apartment where you’d been rejected five months ago. You didn’t let the bad memory get to your head as you carried Joy’s daughter into the apartment. She was sleeping like a brick, snoring lightly as you laid her down on the bed of Joy’s extra bedroom. You slipped off her shoes, brushed some hair out of her face and tucked her in for the night. Joy watched you from the door, a fond smile on her face as she observed you. 
“Something funny?” you asked once you caught her looking. Joy unfolded her arms and pushed off the doorframe.
“Nope,” she answered, “let’s go. Let her sleep.”
You switched off the light and walked out the room, shutting the door behind you as you left. Joy had brought out her wine glasses and her favourite bottle of white wine that she usually kept for celebrations. She sat on her couch, silently swirling her glass in her hand as you approached. Under the ample lighting of her apartment, you realised how tired she looked. Faint, dark rings circled the base of her eyes, her expression one of weariness. 
“You okay?” you checked in, settling down and pouring yourself a glass of wine. 
“Yea…” she replied, “Just a little tired.”
You sipped your beverage and leaned back on her couch.
“Wanna call it a day after this?” you offered. She shook her head. 
“Nah…” she grunted, “I still wanna talk with you.”
Soo-young sat up in her seat and reseted her face on her palm. 
“I missed you,” she whispered. 
“Me too,” you vocalised.
She uncrossed her legs. Her elbows rested on her thighs.
“It’s kinda funny isn’t it?” she asked you. 
“What is?”
She sipped out of her glass and said, “We’ve come full circle. This apartment… We started here didn’t we?”
You chuckled softly. 
“Shit…” you remarked, a soft smile on your face.
Joy set her glass down on the table. With a sigh, she laid down, her head resting on your lap. 
“Here… I first let my feelings for you manifest into actions right here,” she breathed, “I never thought that I’d be back here with you as my boyfriend… This is so crazy.”
Her statement made you think about one of the many questions you had for her. You stopped fiddling with your glass and set it down. You let your hands fiddle with Soo-young’s hair instead. 
“Why didn’t you tell me the real reason when I asked you out here?” you quarried. Joy closed her eyes and sighed.
“I… Don’t know,” she told you, “I… I guess I was just scared.”
“Scared of what?” you probed. 
“I… I was scared that I’d lose you…”
Your hands stopped. 
“Joy…” you began.
“I-I know… It’s cheesy, it’s stupid…” she laughed bitterly, “I know I should’ve just came clean to you there and then, but I was scared that you’d freak out and leave me all alone…”
Joy clasped her hands together. 
“I… I guess I was just afraid that you’d do what Yeon-su’s father did to me…” 
You exhaled, a dull throb in your chest. Even though you knew where Joy was coming from, you still felt a little betrayed. It hurt to know that she thought you’d ditch her like that… But then again, you figured that you’d probably think in a similar way if you went through the things she did. 
You cupped Joy’s cheek, your thumb tracing the firm bridge of her nose. 
“It’s alright Soo-young,” you assured her, “let’s stop talking about the past. We should focus on our future together.”
She opened her eyes and gazed up at you. 
“Future?” she echoed airily. You nodded and replied, “Yea… Me, you and Yeon-su…”
She rose from your lap and sat up straight. 
“Are you… Really okay with being Yeon-su’s father?” 
You raised your eyebrows and leaned back into the couch. You had no idea how to raise a kid, let alone care for a child that isn’t your own. But for some reason, you seemed to have a connection with Yeon-su that enabled you to see her as your own. It was inexplicable, but it was there.
“It’ll take some time to adjust, but I think I can do it,” you declared. Joy laid back down on your lap and smiled.
“I think you’ll be a great Dad,” she told you.
“You think so?” you asked. She nodded.
“I trust that you’ll do your best to take care of her…”
She reached for your hand. You gladly gave it to her. With a tender smile, she held your hand above your face, fidgeting and fiddling with your fingers. You let her do as she pleased. 
She let the moment last for a little longer before guiding your hand to her breasts. She laid your palm atop the right side of her chest. You could feel something poking your palm.
“No bra?” you mused. She bit her bottom lip.
“I was hoping to get lucky tonight,” she whispered.
It all happened in a matter of seconds. Clothes were off, tongues were in mouths. Hands searched each other's bodies, grasping, groping—going about the process like you always did. It felt so familiar yet so fresh. 
“You sure Yeon-su won’t wake up?” you asked, brushing back the hair that fell in front of Joy’s face as she bobbed up and down between your legs. She let your cock pop out of her mouth, her hand delivering lazy but considerate strokes to your slick shaft. 
“She’s a heavy sleeper,” she assured you, “don’t you think you should’ve worried about this before I started sucking you off?”
“Probably,” you mused, “But then again, there’s always—”
A sharp gasp cut through your sentence as Joy shoved your cock between her ample breasts. The warmth of her mounds surrounded your shaft, hugging your cock perfectly as she began to move up and down, slowly grinding her chest against your slick, hard meat. Your shaft slid in and out between her breasts, her saliva providing an ample amount of lubrication. The size of her mounds was enough to wrap around your member. It wasn’t enough to make it fully disappear between her cleavage, but enough to bring you divine pleasure.
You were breathless, shocked by the pleasure Joy was giving you. She stuck out her tongue, making contact with your head and sending shocks of pleasure shooting up and down your spine. This was the first time she’d done anything like this. The unfamiliarity, the new sensations you experienced… Everything about it made your toes curl into the floor. 
“F-Fuck… Joy…” you groaned. 
“You like this don’t you?” she hissed, “you love watching me milk your cock with my tits don’t you?”
You nodded furiously. Joy smirked, hands squeezing her tits together even more.
For long, pleasureable minutes, Soo-young continued to push your rock hard cock in and out between her warm, slick tits. Her hands squeezed her tender flesh around your cock, fingers interlocking in front of your cock to keep you from slipping out of the lovely embrace of her cute, perfect tits. You watched Joy work, those doe-like eyes on that cheeky face, so warped with lust and need. It was hard to imagine that you were sharing a wholesome moment with her just minutes ago.
“Fuck… you’re gonna make me cum Joy.”
Joy started to speed up.
“Then fucking cum,” she replied. She squeezed her breasts even tighter around you, spearing your harder and faster between her tits. She pumped her chest up and down faster, ground her chest against you harder, bottomed out as low as she could. You could feel your orgasm surging up your shaft, rapidly making its way from the base of your cock and seizing control over your senses.
“Soo-young…” you strain. 
“Give me all your cum baby. Fucking paint me…”
Then it hits like the full force of a Tsunami. You felt every single burst of hot semen that shot out from your shaft. The first rope spilled out past Joy’s breasts sending hot, warm cum up her collarbone and onto her jaw. She leaned her face back, letting the rest of your semen cum paint her upper body. Rope after rope covers her chest, some high flying shots hitting her face as she relentlessly continues to take you between her tits. 
It's only when your hand roughly grips her scalp that she slows to a stop. As you laid there panting, she took the time to clean your seed off her body. Cum gathered in her hands, disappearing into her mouth as she cleans herself thoroughly. 
“I missed making you explode like this,” she giggled, rising up to her feet. 
“Could… Tell…” you managed to retort through your laboured breaths. 
She straddled you atop the couch. Her hands cupped either side of your cheek, pulling you into a deep, burning kiss that seemed to still your pounding heart. 
“Let me know when you’re ready,” she rasped, moving down to give your neck some attention. You responded by grabbing a handful of her ass, gently kneading and squeezing the juicy flesh, relishing the feel of it spilling out past your fingers.
Her hand finds your shaft. Your hands hold her waist. 
“I’ve been thinking about you so much,” she told you, “I know I said this before but… I missed you.”
You let your hands roam her curvy body, making sure to linger in all her sensitive spots. 
“I’ve missed you too Soo-young,” you answered truthfully, “It’s been difficult…”
She raises her head, her eyes meeting yours. 
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
You cupped her cheek, your thumb gently rubbing some saliva off her face.
“I know Soo-young… You’d never hurt me…”
She remained silent and lined your tip with her slit. She looked at you for permission, and you gave her a nod. She sank down onto you, your head splaying her slick, flushed lips as she impaled herself on your cock. A long, drawn out sigh leaves her mouth while she fills herself with your cock. You hold her steady, supporting her slim figure as her ass touches the base of your crotch.
Joy leaned forward. You met her with a kiss. Your hands played with her nipples, pinching and twisting to your heart's content as you made her moan into your mouth. She started to grind against you, letting her walls stretch out around your throbbing cock while her breath mixed with yours. 
She’d ridden you multiple times. In the office, in a chair, on the beach… But this was different now. This was more than just a search for pleasure, a carnal flurry of thrusts and cusses… 
There was no other way to describe it. It was love.
Joy raised her hips, drawing your shaft out of her body before coming down once more. She established a tender, slow rhythm as she rode you, grinding her warm, tight body against yours while her sighs filled your ear. You leaned against the backrest of the couch, drinking in the sight of Soo-young taking you in and out of her body. She rode you slowly, enjoying every entry and exit of your shaft, relishing the feel of your cock filling her to the brim.
Her slim, tight body rolled. Her perfect, alluring breasts bounced. The muscles of her thighs and hips contracted and relaxed on either side of you. Her hot body grinded against you, your shaft spearing her tight folds as she fucked herself on your cock. A long string of gasps and moans streamed from her mouth, punctuating every squelch of her dripping pussy and emphasising each thrust you made into her body.
“Fuck,” she manages to say, “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed your cock...”
She started to ride you harder, faster—but only a little. You began to feel her pussy tightening around you, the telltale sign of her orgasm building inside her, leaking from her core to every part of her tight body. You brought your mouth hand to her left tit, sucking, licking, assaulting her flesh with your mouth. You drove upward slightly with your own hips, crashing your bodies together just a little harder, a little faster…
Joy’s hair flew behind her head as her head whipped back. 
“Oh fuck!” she cursed, sweat splattering the couch as you slowly brought her to new levels of pleasure. You could feel her racing heartbeat in her pussy, throbbing and pulsing around your cock as she continued her gradual acceleration. She doesn’t stop, her moans and gasps rising in volume in a gentle gradient. Her juices leaked down your shaft, fluids being swirled around the inside of her body as your shaft drives her closer and closer to the edge.
For the first time, Joy orgasmed silently. Her body tensed, her arms locking around your neck as her mouth freezes in the shape of an “O”. Her throat muscles seize, her walls squeezing and pulsating around you as you flushed her against you. It took a long minute for her to come down from her high, but you would gladly hold her tight, bare body for as long as she required. 
Her sweat stickied skin peels off yours. She found your lips once more, digging her tongue into the depths of your mouth. You let her regain her breath, gently caressing the curves of her delicious body as she rested atop of you. 
“Alright…” she finally whispered, “Where do you want to fill me?”
You instantly looked over at the window on your left. Joy followed your gaze, a gleam in her eyes.
“Full circle…” she mused, sliding off your shaft and walking over to the window. Her chest pressed against the glass, her ass sticking out, inviting you to enter her once more. You walks up behind her, slapping your still hard shaft against her ass cheeks. 
“Fuck me,” she hissed.
And you do just that. 
You pumped softly, slowly, enjoying every sensation that you experienced. Joy let her pleasure be known to you, a steady stream of airy sighs leaving her throat as you fucked her. Her palms pressed against the glass, leaving imprints like the rest of her naked body. Her fingers curled into the pane, releasing the pleasure that you gave her. The glass fogged with each breath she took, her sweet voice slightly muffled by the glass.
“Just like that… Fuck me… Fuck me honey.”
“I’m close” you grunted. Joy hummed, thrusting back onto your cock.
“Do it,” she whispered, her eyes cast over her shoulder as she held your gaze, “cum in me. Fill me. I’m… I’m yours…”
Your second orgasm for the night arrived. With one last thrust, you groaned and sent stream after stream of hot semen spurting into Joy’s willing depths. Soo-young let out a soft gasp as you empted yourself inside her, the heat of your seed flooding her freshly fucked pussy. Her body relaxes, slumping against the glass as you paint her insides white. 
It took time to recover. When both of you did, Joy met you with a glowing smile.
“I love you,” she whispered. Your cock slipped out of her pussy, warm cum slowly leaking out of her slit. 
“I love you too Soo-young…” you sighed. She tilted your head towards her, engaging you in the nth kiss for the night. 
Clothes were gathered and tossed into Joy’s room—There was a child in the house after all... Beneath the sheets, Soo-young cuddled up next to you and rested her head on your chest. 
“Good night,” she wished you, “wake me up when you want to tommorow…”
“Alright,” you answered, “sweet dreams Soo-young…”
Your hand rested on her head, gently combing through her sweat matted hair. You felt her smile against you. 
Things weren’t going to be the same for the both of you. From tomorrow onwards, you’d officially enter the day with Joy as your girlfriend. While the prospect was exciting, it admittedly scared you to no end. This was more than just a relationship between two people… There was a kid as well. You had to take care of both of them, and it wasn’t going to be easy.  But you knew that things would all be okay. You weren’t sure what made you feel oddly calm about your new predicament, but you weren’t stressing over it. 
With Soo-young by your side, you had a feeling that everything would be alright in the end. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whats goodie my gang. I decided to try something new with this fic, hope you guys like it :)). Thank you for stopping by and I will see you soon.
515 notes · View notes
romiyaro · 1 year
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ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ #3 "ꜱᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɴᴜᴅᴇꜱ" !!!
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CW: nudes¡ suggestive language¡ mentions of sex¡
Pairing: (all post timeskip) suna, atsumu, osamu, ginjima x gn!reader
Network: @tokyometronetwork
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ꜱᴜɴᴀ ʀɪɴᴛᴀʀᴏ
Guaranteed returns. All favors are returned x1000.
Send him a partial nude and you will get a dick pic within 3 milliseconds. Send him a thirst trap and an audio capture of him moaning your name is sent back.
Suna prides himself on his ability to collect quality material, so it's no surprise he's so very enthusiastic about this nudes exchange business.
Has pretty lights set up around his room just for the sake of clicking aesthetic dick pics.
There's even a special folder on his desktop dedicated to you. All these frisky pics and videos are stored there. He even names it his 'personal pornhub'
Comes home with hundreds of nasty fantasies filled in his head. Trust me he's created a very nice simulation of all the things he'd love to do to you.
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ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ
You just know this motherfucker is choking on his spit every time you send a pic that's even closely revealing.
This one time you send him a suggestive (only to dirty minded people) picture of your newly done nails holding your glass just for fun and next day videos of Miya Atsumu, star athlete clumsily fumbling with his phone are trending on the internet.
I'm really really sorry for this one but he totally responds in Adam Levine style😭😭😭 he's embarrassing you know it but you love him and that shitty replying style is something you and him have to work on.
He comes home all needy and whiny after that. Needs all the love and affection— much much more than usual.
He might not admit it but every time his phone pings and it's a message from you he pulls in a deep breath to stabilize his heart and be ready.
Atsumu is too much of an innocent boy for that cocky front he puts up.
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ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ
Now this guy is a totally different story. Unlike his brother, although equally cocky, he has the guts to back it up.
You once sent him a nude while on a double dinner date just to see his reaction and this mf looked at the picture and smirked, licking his lip. Never tell him how flustering you found it you'd just be digging your own grave.
He's an observant guy, he knows all your preferences– from the food to the positions, so it's not a huge surprise to you when he sends you detailed, nasty, toe-curling replies.
Lowkey think he could run his own pornblog and we would still follow him like dick hungry bitches.
Sometimes, he would send you unprompted random messages while you are at work. Like sirrrr, you get it. He knows you very well but it's none of his business to ensure you're melting in your chair at work thinking about him.
But that's not all. The real nastiness starts when you return home, or his hotel. This man is filthy. And he's gonna pull you down with him whether you like it or not.
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ʜɪᴛᴏꜱʜɪ ɢɪɴᴊɪᴍᴀ
You were sorely mistaken if you thought he was an innocent baby boy who had to be introduced to the art of sending nudes gently💀💀💀
He is the devil. This man laughs at you and calls you weak when you send him a partial nude.
The insult digs deeper when he sends you a beautiful, Pinterest worthy image of his pants pulled down just enough to show his perfect v-line. The sunlight kissing his pretty skin doesn't help either.
This ensues a nudes war. Who can click the better nude.
You both give each other occasional runs for your money. But it's usually him powning you most of the time. This guy has some serious aesthetics.
But the funny thing is, although you both forget the original intention of sending nudes, you both develop a cute and adorable sort of bonding activity out of it.
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Lost the taglist so i won't tag anybody and this isn't gonna be a regular writing phase anyways so🙏🙏🙏 also drop some holy water in the comments and reblogs plej i need it I've been thinking very nasty thoughts abt a certain white haired sensei from naruto
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3K notes · View notes
nsharks · 2 years
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buckshot | simon “ghost” riley
words: 2.4k
plot: simon teaches you how to use a shotgun so you can protect the family while he’s gone.
tags: mostly fluff, dad simon, a small touch of smut, lots of gun talk, fem!reader
a/n: I am not pro-guns at all this is just a fic. also based on my research shotguns and hunting rifles are the only guns you can own in the uk.
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“Why the hell not?”
Simon is standing in the doorway of your bathroom, arms crossed and his mask off as he watches you brush your hair.
Sharing a home with him, and now a baby with him, has made Simon the most protective person you’d ever met. Perhaps even more so in the past few months he’d been home since the birth of your son. He refused to let you do anything but rest and nurse for the first month. He’d wake up multiple times during the night just to check the locks on all the doors, and recheck them, and then check up on the baby’s room, as if someone could have snuck in and swept him away.
You’re paranoid, Simon, you’d told him a couple times. Groggy and woken up again by his nightly patrol. Sometimes you even caught him just sitting in the living room at ridiculous hours; he claimed that it was due to a bad dream, but you suspected he was trying to take “watch” while his family slept.
“Because, Simon,” you say in exasperation, seeing his irritated reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I don’t like guns. Why would I want to shoot them?”
Simon always kept a shotgun hidden in the house.
You’d known that he had the license for it since before you. He even made you get licensed a couple years ago (in case of emergencies, he’d said). But you weren’t a fan of that sort of thing, and he hadn’t insisted on you actually using one until now.
“You don’t have to fuckin’ like them. You just have to know how to use one,” Simon says tersely. He runs a hand through his hair, an action he does only when he’s maskless around you. Even after all these years, it’s still a shocking sight to see him without the skull painted over his appearance.
Skull or not, he’s intimidating.
You don’t share his worries about your and the baby’s safety. Not when you’ve got him to scare people off.
“I really don’t want to,” you sigh, setting the brush down. Your voice is soft and careful, not wanting to fight him over something so ridiculous, especially when you’ve seen how paranoid he’s grown.
In no time at all, you’re standing in front of him with your hands placed on his bare chest, the strain of his muscles softening only slightly under your touch. It takes him a moment before his arms slide around your waist.
“Y/N,” he breathes out through his nostrils and leans over to touch his forehead to yours. “I’m… leavin’ soon. Next week. You’re not going to have me here in case… in case shit happens.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” you tell him in a whisper. “Not to me, not to our son.”
He doesn’t seem convinced. Instead, the notch in his throat presses against his skin as he swallows.
“Bloody hell, Y/N. Can you just do this for me?” His forehead slides down to the dip in your neck, breathing in your neck like he always does, and his voice has turned hoarse. “I need to… keep you safe. Have to.”
You’ve only ever heard the story about his family and his little nephew once or twice. It’s not something you could bare thinking about when your son slept just meters away, but it crosses your mind.
Maybe Simon has a point.
It took him so long to feel safe, worthy, of growing this family with you.
You can only imagine the fear he must feel. How much responsibility he feels to make sure your fate doesn’t end up like the rest of his family members.
Hands moving to the expanse of his back, you melt into him and finally give in. “Okay,” you whisper. “Okay, okay. Show me how to use a gun, Simon.”
_____
You both feel awful saying goodbye to your son for the day.
It’s the first time you’ve asked for a nanny. Simon preformed his own “background check” on each name you listed off to him, names that had been mentioned to you by friends or family. After his thorough research, you had finally settled on someone to watch the baby while the two of you went on your “hunting” trip.
“I think he will miss you the most,” you’d pouted, watching Simon hold your son before you left.
The baby looked so small in his arms; even at three months old, Simon’s hand could cover the entirety of his little back.
“No way, love,” Simon gave a small kiss to the boy’s forehead. “You’re the one feedin’ him. He’s gonna miss the fresh meals more than his dad today.”
Now, not at home with the baby for the first time since his entrance in your lives, Simon is driving you down a gravel road in the middle of nowhere. You have been awfully quiet the whole ride, equally as hesitant about the new babysitter as you are about what your husband is dragging you out here to do.
You know what he does. You’ve known perfectly well what Simon is infamous for, what his nickname is, and the long list of names of the people who have died at his hands. You’re okay with it since you never have to see it, because when it comes to violence, you are nothing like your husband. You used to catch Simon practically smirking when a gory or violent scene would come on in a movie. Meanwhile, you’d bury your gaze in his chest and grimace.
Don’t worry, pet, they’re not even showing it accurately, he’d tell you, as if that would help.
The place he stops at is a wooded area where the dirt road starts to dissipate into tall grasses. He claims to know the property’s owner so it’s fine for you to be there. He’s instructed you to wear long pants and comfy shoes for the occasion. For himself, he’s opted for black cargo pants and his painted balaclava.
“C’mon,” he says, stopping the car and eagerly getting the shotgun he brought out of the trunk.
You follow him into the woods. Something about his confidence indicates that he’s been here before, but you’ve never known him to hunt animals, especially with what his father used to do with them.
“We’re not… we’re not killing anything, right?” you ask when he finally stops walking. There’s nothing but tall trees around you and the occasional bird or squirrel causing you to flinch in surprise.
Simon’s too busy loading the gun to look at you.
“No.”
Something about his voice is different than the Simon you know. Concentrating intently, he closes the shotgun and then reaches for your waist, pulling you close to him.
“Take it,” he says huskily. Your fingers outstretch to wrap around the gun and take it from his hold. It feels… heavier than you anticipated and your grasp is awkward, the butt of it pressing into your chest.
“Well, not like that,” you can almost hear the amusement in his voice, but then it sobers, deepening with a tone of command. “Place this hand on the stock wrist.”
He’s behind your body, closely pressed against you so he can maneuver your hands where he wants them. You’re trying your best to focus since this is a serious situation, a loaded gun in your hands, but it’s hard not to feel the satisfying warmth emitted from his chest.
Once Simon seems satisfied, he asks you, “How does it feel?”
“Heavy,” you admit.
“Let’s fix your stance,” he instructs gruffly, “That should help.”
He uses his booted foot to tap against your feet, urging them further apart until they’re about shoulder-width. He shows you how to stand properly, how to bend your knees slightly and keep the gun high by your cheek as you hold it. He tells you to keep your feet planted to absorb the recoil. You’re doing your best to follow his instructions, feeling like one of his soldiers.
“Is this okay?” you ask, his hands dropping from yours so it’s only you now.
He takes a step back and inspects you with heavy eyes, the same eyes he drags over your naked body in bed. But this time, he’s not inspecting every detail of your bare skin and reveling in the beautiful sight of your curves and dips. Instead, he is inspecting the quality of your stance as you hold a weapon, and you try your best to appear confident under your husband’s experienced gaze.
“Good girl,” he finally says. The praise makes you shudder. “You’ve got a solid stance.”
“Can I shoot it now?”
“Eager, are we?” He shakes his head and leaves you to grab his backpack. He pulls out a couple of empty bottles.
“Point it at the ground, love,” he orders before he steps in front of you. You obey, lowering your aim and being mindful not to shoot him as he places the bottles on a fallen tree in front of you.
Once he’s out of the way, back by your side and wrapping his arm around your waist, you lift the shotgun back to the position he has showed you. His hot breath floods through his mask and tickles your neck.
“There’s a safety lock on it,” he mutters lowly, pointing to a little switch next to the trigger. “You need to move it if you want to shoot.”
“Oh,” you say, cheeks flushing from the sound of his voice. “Should I unlock it now?”
“Go ahead,” Simon says, “The gun in the house is loaded. You just have to unlock it if you ever need it”
There’s something about the way Simon’s powerful presence envelops you that makes your head feel fuzzy. It’s time to shoot now, but your heart is thumping wildly and you can’t help but lean into him.
“Can you… can you shoot it with me? For the first one?”
“Just the first one,” he warns, but is already placing his hands over yours, touch warm and strong and reassuring. There is always safety to be found in his touch. “Don’t worry so much about aim, alright? These aren’t regular slugs. They’re buckshot’s.”
You blink. “What?”
“They have a bunch of little pellets, not a single projectile. It’ll be easier for you.”
Although you are wildly out of your element, he is comfortably in his. You’re almost certain this isn’t even the kind of gun he uses in the field, but still, it is a language he is readily able to speak no matter the weapon.
“Finger on the trigger,” he murmurs in your ear.
Your finger finds the curve of the trigger, his finger following yours so you’re not pressing it on your own. There’s not another second for you to hesitate before he’s shooting it for you, bringing your finger down with his. The shot rings out. Echoes among the wilderness along with the sound the shattering bottle.
The recoil presses you further into his hold, but he keeps a firm grip on you, taking most of it in himself.
“I’ve got ya,” he assures you, noticing the wideness of your eyes. “That was good. You did good.“
“Oh, wow,” you sputter. The strength of it, the feeling of its power beneath your gentle hands, is not what you imagined. You wonder what it feels like to have this frightening kind of rush all the time. How it must feel to watch a body take the bullet rather than a bottle.
“On your own now,” Simon huffs.
The warmth and security of his touch is lost when he steps away and leaves the gun in your hands. The weight causes your hands to falter, but you repeat everything he’s told you in your head and adjust your grip. You want to show him you can handle yourself. Ease his worries with the assurance that you’re not weak and incapable whenever he’s gone.
But you hesitate.
Swallowing, you take your eyes off the next bottle to look at him for help. “Simon, I can’t-“
“Hey, hey.” The command in his voice remains, firm yet gentle. “Yes, you can. You are the strongest woman I know.”
“But… but I’m not you.”
“You don’t have to be me to shoot a shotgun.” His eyes catch yours and he gives a small nod of encouragement. “It’s just for protection, yeah? Not trying to turn you into a soldier.”
With the small encouragement, your finger returns to the trigger. You widen your stance a little. Keep the gun’s stock up by your cheek. You feel his eyes watching you carefully, but for just a moment, you pretend Simon isn’t there. Because the truth is, he’s not there all the time. There are stretches of time when the only person you, and now your son, have to rely on is you, and that’s not a responsibility you take lightly.
You shoot the gun and the next bottle shatters.
The strong recoil causes your feet to dig into the dirt and your body shudders.
“Christ, nice shot,” you hear Simon say over your steady breathing. You lower the gun and beam at him, the rush from the shot filling you with confidence.
“Thanks to you, lieutenant.”
_____
Practicing until all the bottles are broken leaves you with a sense of adrenaline that Simon assures you he knows how to soothe. The sun starts to set as he gets you back to the car, but once you’re inside, he’s pulling you onto his lap and attaching his lips to your collarbone.
“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groans against your skin and anxiously peels off your top, your pants, every piece of fabric that gets in his way. He kisses the marks that pregnancy has left behind, always supplying them with adoration. His skin is hot to the touch, just as consuming as it had been during his teachings, and when he starts moaning into your neck about how fucking hot you are, you wonder if seeing you shoot a gun is the cause of the wild lust in his voice.
“Got to reward you,” he hums low, giving you his fingers just how he knows you like them. “You were such a good girl for me.”
When you’re back home that night, finally leaving after his reward in the car, Simon is the one to put the baby to bed. Then, he joins you in your room, slipping his warm body under the blankets beside you, and sleeping through the night for the first time in months. He thinks, maybe, now he won’t be quite as worried when he has to leave you both next week.
——
a/n: ok I promise simon picked up all the glass and threw it away somewhere because he’s not a litterer 👍🏻 also I don’t like any kind of gun at all and I’d prefer if they didn’t exist but I can understand why someone like simon would feel safer with one in his house given his past
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formulawolff · 3 days
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✧˖° golden girl & her star boys ✧˖°
hello everyone! ♡
as part of the alkaline series, i felt that this was necessary. i’m going to give a little bit of background on the readers’ relationships with the other drivers on the grid! (i also just love to yap. that’s the real reason!)
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
✧˖° williams ✧˖°
alex albon — one of her best friends and teammate. basically like her older brother who is constantly giving unwanted advice. they banter and argue CONSTANTLY. however, she deeply appreciates his ability to be 10000% honest with her at all times. she’s definitely cried on his shoulder numerous times.
he was the first person to accept her to the f1 scene with open arms. he is constantly defending her name and likeness to the media. although he won’t admit it directly, he has a deep respect and love (sibling sort of love!) for her. he wouldn’t want anyone else to be driving alongside him at williams.
✧˖° mercedes ✧˖°
lewis hamilton — they are friendly with one another, but not super close. lewis is super friendly and inviting, she is just a little intimidated by him. he has this powerful aura, and since he’s always been one of her role models, she has a hard time approaching him. the conversations they have had, she’s always been grateful for his encouragement and advice.
sometimes he will make fun of her for being so “american.” (lots of yeehaw, stereotypical jokes about the u.s.) she laughs it off though, usually countering back with her witty humor.
george russell — as we know… these two do not get along. he’s polite, but does not necessarily enjoy her bold and brash personality. he thinks that she’s a little “too much” at times, especially with how opinionated she is on social media. lewis has to often remind him that he needs to be friendlier, considering her contract is up at the end of the 2024 season. and he knows toto is scouting for a new driver, so she may be potential option.
begrudgingly, george will sometimes compliment her. it’s not super nice or over the top, but they are compliments!
✧˖° red bull ✧˖°
max verstappen — he adores her! he has a ton of admiration and respect for her, often complimenting her techniques or good laps. they are somewhat close, checking in with one another during breaks. he is also protective of her likeness, often reminding journalists that her gender doesn’t matter. she’s a worthy competitor and an exceptional driver. (since you know, she’s a contender for the champion slot but we won’t address that yet!) they often do interviews together with the other guys!
he thinks her american slang, accent, and mannerisms are cute. he has a slight crush but is also somewhat scared of her. it leaves him feeling confused yet bewildered at times.
sergio perez — the two are friendly. sort of like coworkers who work in different departments but are cordial with one another. since she’s so young, checo thinks that she has a lot to learn. he does offer advice, but not often. he does believe that she is a talented driver and deserves her spot on the grid. he is well aware of max’s little crush and teases him relentlessly for it.
✧˖° mclaren ✧˖°
lando norris — one of the besties! he’ll often ask her to come on to his livestreams with him during breaks or the offseason. they snap one another frequently, often using the weird and funny filters. he loves to hear about her perspective on the f1 world, considering her position as the first american female driver. they’ve met up a few times between races to hang out or he’ll bring her and alex food to the paddock. he knows that she loves peeled apple slices so sometimes he’ll bring some to her the morning of race day.
he is a firm believer that she’s going to be a first female world champion in the next few years.
oscar piastri — another one of the besties! they’re close but not as close as reader & lando. he also enjoys hearing her perspective on everything f1 related. he’ll tag along with lando quite often to bring food, snacks, and drinks to the paddocks or hang outs. one of the first few drivers on the grid to approach and befriend her. (he couldn’t help but notice how anxious she looked, and he wanted to give her some comfort)
✧˖° ferrari ✧˖°
carlos sainz — one of the besties! is very willing to do funny bits for social media with her, no matter what it entails. he enjoys her fiery personality and her ability to stand up for what she believes in. he’ll often join her, lando, oscar, and charles for hangouts between races. sometimes he’ll list her as an emergency contact because he knows how much she’s on her phone. he teaches her spanish from time to time, just the basics so that she can get by when they’re traveling. (although sometimes he’ll tell her the wrong things on purpose, just because it’s hilarious)
charles leclerc — one of the besties! he will often join her and lando on livestreams, especially if they’re sim racing. he’s very competitive with her and tries to beat her in every game possible. he loves when she helps him with english, as he often has troubles with the language. he is fascinated by the idea of texas roadhouse, and wants to go to one with her, carlos, lando, and oscar sometime. additionally, she’s the first one he goes to when he needs help understanding a specific social media trend. or help buying gifts for his girlfriend.
✧˖° aston martin ✧˖°
fernando alonso — endearingly refers to himself as her padre. loves to tease her about anything and everything, in the way a father would to his daughter. they have lengthy discussions over a variety of topics, ranging from opera music to what they had for breakfast that morning. she has a deeply rooted admiration for him, and views him as a role model.
lance stroll — one of the besties, but not as much as lando or oscar. they’re very friendly to one another, lance’s father often asking her if she wants to reconsider williams and join aston martin in 2025. she usually says smiles and says no, much to his father’s dismay.
✧˖° alpine ✧˖°
esteban ocon — the two do not really speak a whole lot, but they’re friendly and polite! like many of the other drivers, he enjoys seeing a new face and getting to know her!
pierre gasly — very friendly with one another! he enjoys having a fresh new face to the grid, and a new perspective that comes along with it. he’ll often taunt her in french, laughing when she gets frustrated that she can’t understand what he’s saying. he’ll compliment her when she has a good lap or a great race. he respects her boldness and how she is not willing to let the press paint her as someone she’s not.
✧˖° haas ✧˖°
nico hulkenberg — they do not really speak, unless it’s at an event or something press related. she does respect his seniority over the younger drivers! additionally, he respects her and wishes her well before races.
kevin magnussen — a similar situation to nico! they do speak to one another from time to time, often chirping greetings in the morning. he does tease her for really only knowing english, telling her that she needs to “hop on that owl app or something.”
✧˖° alphatauri ✧˖°
daniel ricciardo — the mf bestie. this man knows a little too much about her. besides alex, he was one of the first people to welcome her to the grid with open arms. when he was the third driver for redbull in 2023, he found himself bored often. so, he would wander into the williams paddock, searching for her. since they have a very similar sense of humor, they feed off one another, often laughing so hard they have tears in their eyes. they were often attached to the hip throughout 2023, james having to shoo daniel away at times.
during breaks or at night, daniel would often find himself in her williams motorhome, snuggling or eating food together. they would often pair up to do press events, conduct livestreams, special events, or bits together. due to their close nature, rumors and speculation made their rounds across social media.
daniel deeply respects and admires her, finding her unapologetic nature extremely attractive. additionally, he just found her to be his go-to person, for anything. she was his comfort when he found himself missing racing.
at the end of the 2023 season, daniel found himself in a predicament, as he was falling in love with her. however, as time progressed, and as he signed with alphatauri, he realized that their lifestyle would not provide them a happy and stable relationship. so after her win in jeddah, he knew he had to face the facts and tell her how he felt.
things are a little weird now, but he wants to rekindle their friendship, hoping things will return to the way they once were.
yuki tsunoda — since the two have very similar personalities, they often find it hard to be in the same room together for long periods of time. however, they are polite and cordial to one another. they will tease one another at times, and she does follow him on social media.
✧˖° kick sauber ✧˖°
valtteri bottas — they do not really speak. when they do, it’s really only at the beginning of the season for press related events. she does respect his seniority, and loves hearing his stories of his time at mercedes with lewis.
zhou guanyu — they do not really speak. it’s a similar situation like valtteri. they do bond over being relatively new to the f1 world. she also loves the pictures he shares of his cat.
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fatphobiabusters · 5 months
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These tags were on my detailed explanation of just some of the different ways fat people are oppressed. This is by far not the first time I have had to hear someone advocate for killing all fat people—among other stuff like
Calling me an "ob*se pig"
Telling me to literally kill myself for being an "ob*se pig"
A day later being told that "ob*se" isn't a slur and how dare I "pretend" it is
Laughing at the thought of me dying in an ambulance and using that idea of me dying as thinspo
Using photos of my abused child body before I began recovering from anorexia as thinspo
A person telling me that they literally, word for word, support the idea of fat people being eradicated from this earth through genocide in a, and I quote, "second Holocaust"
Then other fatphobes telling me to "quit whining" when I talked about how someone had told me to die by genocide for daring to have a fat body in their presence
And all of that is just off the top of my head. It's fucking incredible that this sort of bigoted shit is a nearly every day experience for me, and yet numerous times I have been sent asks and messages by self-proclaimed "progressive" people who have pride flag backgrounds for their icons and a mile long DNI list naming any and every type of bigot imaginable except fatphobes, and these people will always message me the same thing:
"You want to be oppressed so bad, don't you?"
There's a lot of fucked up shit evidenced in that sentence that I could talk about, but I'm exhausted and am about to fall asleep.
If you're "progressive" and a fatphobe? Congrats. You've made yourself into a living oxymoron that allows countless people to die. How "progressive" of you. Now to block yet another bigot who believes my fat body cancels out my humanity.
-Mod Worthy
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tartigglez · 1 year
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"allow me to comfort you?"
zhongli x gn!reader
genre: fluff/reverse comfort
word count: 1.1k
tags: zhongli is SO SAD. IM SORRY. uhhhhh cuddles, lots of em, kith kith, nightmares, zhongli is dragon boi
tw/cw: ig zhongli has some sort of what i guess could be called anxiety but that's kinda it
a/n: decided to double post this week because i have exams and this is my way to destress, enjoy :)
ps... this is not very well proofread
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opening your eyes in the morning is normally quite a peaceful feeling, especially when your boyfriend is with you, as he would normally have his arms wrapped around you, lovingly awakening you from your slumber. however, today seemed different, or rather, tonight. 
you were awakened to the feeling of movement, and a rather dragonic looking man stirring next to you in bed. 
was he having a dream? a bad one? you could’ve sworn this was the first time this had happened, and you weren’t sure what to do. 
after a moment, you sat up, and decided to awaken him, as you could see the golden patterns on his arms glowing every few seconds, which after knowing him for a while, you came to figure meant he was in some sort of distress.
you grabbed his arm and started to move your hand up and down gently, as to not startle the man too much. some people might think its a risk not worth taking, to awaken a literal sleeping dragon, and even you knew the man had the potential to hurt you, but he never would. you trusted him, more than anything. 
after turning on the lamp at the bedside, you began making more effort to awaken the man. 
“zhong. my love, wake up”
after about thirty seconds of attempting to awaken him, the man suddenly sprung upwards, breathing heavily, and catching hold of his surroundings. he scanned around him, before grabbing onto your hand and looking down, closing his eyes. 
shortly after you began to hear gentle sobs from the man. surely this can't be right. rex lapis, crying…?
“hey, what happened? you okay?”
you quickly realised however, that these questions were pointless, and that he was not going to respond. instead, you opted for pulling him closer to you, wrapping one of your arms around his broad shoulders, and holding his hand with the other, gently stroking his thumb. 
his gentle sobs continued for a few minutes, before you moved your hand from his and used it to pull his head to your chest, where you presumed he could perhaps find some solace as you ran your fingers through his hair. 
when his sobs finally slowed down, it took him a moment to pipe up. 
“surely this position is uncomfortable for you, aren’t my horns hurting you, or digging into you somewhere? i can make them g-”
“shh, i’m okay. promise.”
“v-very well”
after another moment of silence, he spoke again…
“i am... sorry for awakening you. i cannot remember the last time this happened, but it was truly long ago”
“my love, you have nothing to apologise for. do you want to talk about it?”
“i suppose it would be improper of me not to offer up an explanation after so crudely awakening you like this… i dreamt that… they left me”
“they left you…? who?”
“the liyuean people. i dreamt that they abandoned everything here, that their archon was no longer worthy and-”
was he crying? again?
“hey, you’re okay. it was only a dream”
“i’m sorry, i do not have these experiences often, which means that they only feel more real to me”
you wipe the tears from beneath his eyes, and lean up to place a gentle kiss to the top of his forehead.
it was still an odd sight to see zhongli crying. 
"i know, darling, i know”
“may i talk to you about something? If you wouldn’t mind lending an ear?”
“that's exactly what i'm here for, ‘li” 
“very well. truthfully i sometimes feel as though a lot of my person is a façade. of course i am required to believe that i am powerful, otherwise i would not hold my position amongst the seven, but honestly i sometimes feel that i am not enough for the people here in liyue. i have given them everything i have, but what if that is not enough? what if one day, liyue, rex lapis, morax and zhongli are all left in the dust. what if it is all forgotten? if my efforts are put to waste?”
“zhong. when was the last time you interacted with a liyuean? they all know that you care for them more than anything, do not let your own self doubt get in the way of that, or you will become blinded by your insecurities. you are doing a good job, take it slowly. after all, fate awaits us all, and there is very little that can be done about it. i promise you, the people of liyue love you. i love you”
“i love you as well, dear. sometimes i just worry.”
“i know. i cannot even begin to imagine the amount of pressure you are under.”
you used your hand to tilt his face towards yours, before easing his worries with a kiss.
“shall we lay down dear? i still feel apologetic for waking you up”
“sure, but just this once, allow me to comfort you?”
“very well”
you moved to lie flat on your back, as zhongli moved himself closer to you, resting his head upon your chest.
“is this okay?” 
he asked, wondering if the position was comfortable for you. after all the man did have literal horns poking out of his head.
“mhm! can i play with your hair?”
“please, do. that sounds ever so pleasant at this moment in time.”
and so you moved your fingers to entangle in his hair, gently massaging his scalp as he let out a large yawn, wrapping himself tighter around you.
“i love you, y/n”
“love you too, ‘li”
after a few moments of pleasant silence, you piped up again, with intentions to ask the man if he had calmed down any.
“zhong?”
“zhong~?”
ah. he was sleeping. 
“sleep well, prince”
and all of a sudden, began a low, rumbling, purring noise, from somewhere in the mans chest. an ability you were completely unaware he had, but for some reason the sound soothed you, and let you know he was calm, and happy in your presence. 
you placed a gentle kiss to his head once again, before drifting off into your own slumber. 
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you awakened to the feeling of gentle kisses being placed upon your shoulder, by none other than zhongli himself, who was obviously very impatiently waiting for you to wake up.
“ah, you're awake. good morning, dear”
“mmm, morning zhong”
“did you rest well?”
“i did. you?”
“me too”
“why of course, i'm not sure why i asked”
“what is that supposed to mean…?”
“you started purring in your sleep last night”
“i did WHAT?!"
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anamelessfool · 6 months
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Ribbons & Ties (AO3 Link)
GEN, M/M
Terzo x Omega, Terzo & Family, Cardinal Marian is in there for like ten minutes
Tags: Domestic Fluff, Commitment, Rom Com Energy, There's a Wedding, Secondo is Papa Emeritus, Gift Giving, I can't have Fluff without some Angst sorry
For reasons beyond Terzo's understanding, he wants to give Omega a present for the ghoul's "birthday". It proves to be a lot more complicated than Terzo realizes.
Art by @kabukiaku used with permission
Chapter 1 Below the Cut! (We like Reblogs, Comments and Kudos omnomnom)
2006
I was an impossible case. No-one ever could reach me... But I think I can see in your face there's a lot you can teach me...So I wanna know what's the name of the game?
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1
Papa Elect Terzo tried to look busy. He attempted a regal sigh, a pace. Killed time with what he hoped was a thoughtful, intelligent stare out his office window. He did everything possible to bide time while he collected his thoughts in a way that would hide his true intentions.
This was all about Omega.
He had called Cardinal Marian, Sister Imperator’s Personal Assistant not due to any sort of friendship or confidence. His brother Papa Emeritus Secondo barely considered him as human these days and with his wedding a week away he had bigger things to fuss about.
Terzo’s other two ghouls Earth and Alpha could not be trusted to answer honestly. And Brother Copia was, well…Copia.
So then that left Marian.
She was obligated by her job description to interact with him as he needed. For business purposes, of course.
And buying the right birthday present for Omega Ghoul was definitely a high stakes business venture as far as Papa Elect Terzo was concerned.
“Thank you for your time,” Terzo said, pressing his hands together and slightly bowing.
“Hey, anything to give me a break from planning my ex-partners’ wedding,” she replied with an indifferent shrug, although her eyes looked bleary. “How yinz doing on musical entertainment for that, by the way?”
“I have a few choir selections, and I have been working with Papa’s ghouls and my own on some light entertainment during the dinner. Copia has been fussing with finding the right wedding march on the organ for about six weeks now.” And Terzo had been locking his office doors to keep Copia from talking his ear off about it for about six weeks as well. “So…all coming together.”
“Great. Want to be perfect. For them.” She didn't sound too enthused. "But don't worry, I'm completely fine about it." Marian froze, then patted her sides. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Please don't, it gets into the curtains,” said Terzo.
Marian slumped in her chair slightly. “Ok, now you have to tell me the real reason I’m here.”
Terzo closed his eyes and collected himself. “I need some help picking out a gift. For a friend. I'm having trouble,” he said.
“Don’t you give people shit all the time? Flowers, erotic notes, pornographic photography, whatever…” Marian raised an eyebrow. “People talk. In the Dining Hall. A lot.”
Terzo winced and then gave her a defeated shrug. “This is em…different.”
At that Marian’s face immediately switched into a wicked grin. She leaned forward on his desk, hand on her chin with such force her biretta hat went crooked. “Why? Why is it different, huh?”
“Because…” And then Terzo threw her a haughty scowl. “I don’t need to tell you. You work for me, sorella. This is a business meeting. A consulation.”
“Fine, suit yourself.” She glanced at the clock. “But If I’m your employee you’ve got like ten minutes to spit it out before I leave for the day. So…what is it?”
“Omega…is an important friend to me. I want a gift that is…worthy of him.” Terzo started to pace again. “Something that is special, but ghouls are difficult to shop for! They don’t need to eat, or drink. Omega doesn’t seem to want to visit anywhere or do anything beyond whatever I want to do…”
“Well, isn’t he…basically you?”
“Yes but also, no.”
“And you’re psychically linked, right?” Marian thoughtlessly played with her pen, clicking it idly. “So, even if you wanted it to be a surprise, he’d already sort of know about it.”
“Cazzo, you see now why this would be so difficult?!”
Marian shrugged. “It’s the thought that counts, at the end of the day.”
“I know that,” Terzo snapped. It was definitely the thought that counted.
Except, he had never truly sincerely thought about someone else when giving a gift before. And that is what made his hands clammy and his mind race.
Terzo decided he needed to gift something really important. Something that reflected how much his heart pounded when Omega held him. Something that was big, essential, eternal. Just like his ghoul.
“A…a diamond! Yes.”
Marian smirked. “A diamond? For your very best friend?”
“Yes…” Terzo began weakly, but then remembered Marian's status as his minion. He frowned into her. “Yes, a diamond.”
“Whatever,” she replied, then opened her steno pad. “Although you know purchases over a certain amount I got to run through Treasury Director Brother Copia.”
“Then forget the diamond,” Terzo backpedaled.
Marian checked the clock on the wall again and snapped her notepad shut. “Ok, fine I've dated quite a few guitarists over the years and they like practical stuff. Like, for their instrument. How about um…a guitar strap, huh?”
“How about a guitar strap?” suggested Terzo.
Marian frowned. “What's his favorite color?”
“Erm—black.”
“Second favorite color?” Marian sighed.
“Violet, he likes violet!”
“Violet and black guitar strap, coming right up,” Marian intoned. “And look, you got ninety more seconds until I go home, is there anything else you need, your Eminence?”
“No, that would be all.” Terzo returned to staring out the window with an extra dramatic flourish of his black cardinal cassock. He took a breath, feeling his nerves start to settle as he heard the squeak of Cardinal Marian's chair as she exited. All of a sudden he had a thought. "Oh, and Marian?"
"Twenty seconds left, your Eminence." Marian's hand was already on the doorknob.
"You're certain he'll like that?"
Marian's brow furrowed, but then it seemed like a thought passed through her, and her expression softened. "Of course," she said, "Who wouldn't like a gift?"
My AO3 | Tumblr Fic List | My Terzo/Omega Fics
Chapter 2 here
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Note
this was quite a while ago so my memory is hazy but it still sort of bothers me, so
AITA for making a quick comment about a ship dynamic(???) i didn't like in the ship tag?
before you jump on my ass, this isn't pro/anti stuff. literally just a matter of preference.
not going to mention the specific characters or media in question for pure anonymity's sake. i'm just going to assign arbitrary names to the characters in question for readability. let's say Albert and Bartholomew, or something. and the ship name can be Fucking BartBert I Guess.
"Bartholomew" had a traumatic experience in his childhood that had a very large impact on his mental state, let's say. as a fan of. um. "bartbert". i had noticed a trend in fan works of this ship depicting an AU version of Bartholomew that had never had this traumatic event happen to him. not that there's anything wrong with that, really. i just found it sort of strange and i was more interested in the canon character, additionally i found it sort of comforting to think that Bartholomew was worthy of love scars and all, so to speak. so i made a short post in the tag expressing pretty much that. along the lines of "why is there so much fanart like this? can't he be loved the way he is?" or something like that, and tagged it as bartbert because i wanted to see other people's thoughts on it. in retrospect it could've been read as dismissive or inflammatory i suppose but i really didn't mean it like that. i was just a little bit annoyed and confused by it.
fast forward a little while and this person comes into my notes saying something along the lines of "for some reason i can't reblog this on my main, but it's because people have been nice enough to make fanart of the AU that i made." i didn't think i knew this person at all, so i essentially just responded trying to assure them that i don't know them and wasn't trying to attack their art or them personally or anything.
i'm not sure exactly what happened after that because it's been like 2 years but in essence, i had actually blocked their main a few months before, because they had been posting about that AU and i didn't like it, so i just blocked and moved on like i usually do with stuff like that because i didn't want to see it in the tags. i probably didn't even realize at the time that they were the creator of the AU. but this person pointed out that i had their main blocked as like, evidence that that post i had made was a personal attack against them, or something like that?? of course i didn't mean it in that way, i had just blocked their main months ago and forgotten about it, and i wasn't even really trying to be rude but they blocked me before i could try to explain myself.
i remember this whole thing pretty vividly because i was at the zoo with my family that day and feeling like i was being accused of something i didn't do, or being called mean or being picked on by someone with a much larger following than me presumably, just for making a single post the night before was really stressing me out on what was supposed to be a fun day. in addition i ended up leaving the fanbase for the work in question entirely pretty soon after because i didn't want people to think i was weird or mean. it's sort of colored my recollection of the work in general, which sucks because i do still really like it.
in retrospect i'm honestly not sure if what i did was wrong or not. i suppose i shouldn't have put negativity in the tag but also i feel like you should be allowed to express negative opinions the same as positive ones, right? as long as you aren't being a jackass about it. although at the same time i can sort of see their perspective because i think if i saw a post like that about something i had made i might've jumped straight to being defensive about it, too...
but anyways it's one of those memories that creeps up on me while i'm trying to go to sleep, so,
was i the asshole?
What are these acronyms?
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noforkingclue · 1 year
Note
I would love a dark overprotective Morpheus x reader! He just needs to keep his precious dreamer safe.
Of course anon! You know me so well! Immediately coming in with the dark requests!
Feel free to send in more for Sandman!
Title: Dreaming of You
Warnings: dark fic, obsessive thoughts
Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee
You were enchanting.
Morpheus was perched on the edge of your bed watching you sleep. He raised a hand and gently cupped your cheek, rubbed your cheek bone with the pad of his thumb. You let out a soft noise and leant into his touch. Morpheus smiled at the action as he moved his thumb and pressed it softly against your lips.
He didn’t know what it was exactly that drew him to you but all he knew that that you were his. That fact was undisputable. You were going to be his Queen, whether you wanted to be or not. Your place was by his side in the Dreaming.
He personally made sure all your dreams were pleasant. That you were Queen of a far off and wonderful land. That you could abandon your current life and have everything you ever wanted with a loving husband by your side. He could see the longing in your eyes when you woke up in the morning. The more he gave you that dream, the more he could see your desperation to leave your world.
He tilted your chin up and wondered what would be the best way to introduce himself to you. Maybe show up in your dream as your husband? Yes, that would probably be the safest way. He didn’t want to scare you off immediately. He hadn’t yet given your husband a defined figure. He wanted to get you used to the idea of ruling. To make you long for a world that wasn’t your own.
Maybe then he’ll ‘bump’ into you in your world. What would your reaction be? Would you be confused? More than likely. Humans tended not to be able to cope too well when they see elements of their dreams in their reality. He found the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion to be quite adorable and he hoped to be able to see it.
He gently cupped your cheeks and held your head between his hands. Your lips parts and e bent down, soft pressing his lips against yours. You let out a soft moan and his eye closed at the sound. He longed to be able to hear them fully. To have your eyes look up at him, wrapped your arms tightly around him as you pulled him achingly closer. Your body pressed against his.
A soft murmur broke Morpheus out of this thoughts. He craved to hear his name spill from your lips but the name you said was not his. He pulled back as he looked down at your peaceful face. You had said the name of a worthless colleague. Someone who was not worthy of you. He gently laid you back down and stroked your face.
This will not do.
He sighed and stood up, looking down at you. This was something that he was going to have to fix and sooner rather than later. Firstly, he needed to make you dream of him and only him. Then he needed to sort out your colleague. He knew that what he was going to do was going to hurt you but you didn’t need to know of his involvement. He pressed another kiss against your lips before disappearing in a swirl of sand.
After all, what you didn’t know can’t hurt you.
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alexthefly · 4 months
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Take My Hand
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This was supposed to be a @flashfictionfridayofficial , but I was a bit late and got my timezones mixed up, and then the word count went over and... well here it is anyway.
Or read it on AO3 here.
Also tagging @tagloveandthunderbirds 'cos ❤️
Fandom: Thunderbirds/Thunderbirds are Go
Word count: 1048
Warnings: feet/shoes
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---------------
“You ready to do this, Sweetheart?”
Lucy took her time smoothing down the front of her dress, purposely not looking at the empty dance floor yawning in front of her.
“Are you? You know dancing isn't exactly my forte; a first dance in front of all these people just seems like asking for trouble." She shuffled in her chair. "Are trampled feet covered by the wedding insurance?”
Jeff snickered. “I checked the policy just before I came over here. We’re all set.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. But I’m wearing heels, don't forget; it's going to be like Bambi on Ice out there.”
He shrugged. 
“Well I did suggest the hiking boots instead, but you shot me down; something about ‘the aesthetic’. Which looks stunning on you, by the way.” 
He stood back to better take her in, grinning appreciatively.
“Last time I make that mistake,” she muttered, waving away the compliment. “Given ‘the aesthetic’ is currently cutting off the circulation to my pinkie toe, respectfully ‘the aesthetic’ can go jump in a lake.”
She mentally cursed the salesperson who’d talked her into putting fashion ahead of comfort.
Concern flashed across Jeff’s handsome face. “Are they really hurting you, honey? We can get you other shoes.”
She smiled up at him reassuringly. “No really, I’m exaggerating …sort of. They just kinda pinch, that's all.”
If she was totally honest with herself, it wasn't even the salesperson’s fault, really. She’d been the one chasing a dream of being perfect and ladylike, even if it was only this once. Dammit, why was dressing up fancy so hard?!
Of course it didn't help that her new husband managed it so effortlessly. He was currently working ‘the aesthetic’ to within an inch of its life, cutting a very dashing figure in his elegant new grey suit and tie, dress shirt and shoes all perfectly matched and filled out perfectly.
Seriously, where did he get off being so good-looking? 
She’d just wanted to appear worthy of him, that’s all. Jeff Tracy: ace pilot, hometown hero, handsomest guy in the county and a genuinely good man to boot. He was the prince, and just once she’d wanted to feel like she could be his match - a princess - instead of some awkward, clutzy science nerd who’d somehow managed to win the husband lottery.
She sighed. Clearly that wasn't to be.
There was a pause, then without another word her very handsome husband - God, he really did look good in that suit - knelt down in front of her and took one of her feet gently in his hands. He examined the delicate and uncharacteristically high-heeled white shoe with utmost seriousness, before removing it and flinging it across the room.
“Jeff!”
Lucy felt her face burst into flames as a roomful of eyes turned towards them.
“What? Doesn't that feel better?”
In all fairness it absolutely did. She wiggled her newly-released toes appreciatively even as she fought the urge to hide underneath the table.
“You can't just go throwing shoes around. You’re making a scene.”
He stopped and looked at her, ignoring the rest of the room, then slowly and deliberately reached out and took hold of her other foot.
“I want to enjoy a dance with my beautiful new wife, and if these admittedly pretty little shoes are getting in the way of that…” 
The second shoe flew over his shoulder, just missing a nearby waiter.
“...then they’ve gotta go.”
The room was hushed; everyone was looking at them. Part of her wanted to run and hide in the coatroom until they’d all gone, but he was holding her gaze, keeping her steady. 
“I don't want anything getting between me and the most amazing, beautiful, perfect person I ever saw, ever again.”
He rose gracefully to his feet and held out his hand to her.
“So how about it? May I have this dance?”
It was late spring and the cicadas were singing. Airbase staff were bustling all around, knocking into her, sending papers flying everywhere. She knelt down to pick them up, and suddenly there was a hand in front of her.
“Can I give you a hand, Miss?”
It was fall, and the trees around them were every shade of red. They’d talked about everything and nothing, walking side by side, until he stopped and reached out to her.
“Would it be alright if I held your hand?”
It was winter and the snow was falling softly. His ice skates made long swooshing noises on the ice around her, while hers clacked noisily as she tried and failed to keep her footing. Another swoosh and then he was there in front of her, hand extended.
“Okay, so not my best idea. How about we go get a hot chocolate instead? My treat?”
It was the last days of summer, and the clear water of the lake lapped at her toes. She’d never felt so happy in her life. A perfect day. Beside her she felt him shift nervously, and then he was holding his hand out, a little red box in it, one knee on the ground.
“I’ve got a question I wanna ask…”
Her head flooded with the memories of a hundred moments, small and huge, all of them important. A hundred images of him offering his hand, and at last she understood.
He'd reached out for her.
She was the one. And she was worthy, just as she was.
Smiling, she accepted the offered hand.
“Of course you may, Mr Tracy.”
He grinned and bowed. “Why thankyou, Mrs Tracy.”
She rose and he led her, barefoot and spotlit, to the dance floor without a care in the world. Keeping her hand in his, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, enveloping her like a delicate, precious treasure, safe and protected. Their eyes met and he beamed at her like his face was made of actual sunshine.
She grinned back at him.
“You’re sure about that wedding insurance now? Last chance.”
“Don’t you worry about my toes, darlin’. Just keep a hold of me and we’ll do fine.”
And with that the band struck up an old favourite, and hand-in-hand they danced the night away.
Take my hand
Take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you.
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streets-in-paradise · 3 months
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By Duty and Chance - Hector x (Fem) Reader
Troy (2004) Oneshot
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Requested by Anon
" (...) Soo basically anything you write about Hector is gonna be greatt. But i was thinking maybe that hector and reader are in arranged marriage ( yk enemies to lovers) but they end up falling for each other. "
YES, YES, YES!! ( ok, I'm gonna calm myself down now).
Just because I'm a simp, the enemy vibe was reduced a bit and the core conflict happens more on them falling at different paces. She was once on the geopolitical enemy side, cause she is a greek, but the marriage happened as a first step of negociations with another greek kingdom acting as nexus before the peace mission in Sparta.
Warnings: arranged marriage, reader starts fancying Hector before he gets into her. Pre war, but it adresses the political situation going on in Greece at the start of the movie and includes mentions to some Iliad characters that weren't in it because she is from Pylos and the movie showed nothing of Nestor's kingdom.
Summary: Your concerted political marriage to Prince Hector of Troy starts as a total disaster. Ashamed of your growing interest on him while the sorrow of a lost love keeps him distant, you focus on proving him you are a fitting wife to deal with his domestical problems before the conclussion of the peace mission started with your union would signal your first political act together.
Back in Greece for a diplomatical trip to Sparta, you come across a souless marriage product of another arrangement and the impact of that meeting calls you to redefine your relationship.
Note: Inspired by the arranged marriage prompts by @creativepromptsforwriting
" My love for one person could never trump the love I have for my people."
Tags: @g-m-kaye @thorsslxve
Sailing away for marriage so nobody else would have to do it for war was a noble act, but you were given the most abnormal circunstancies for the development of the plan.
King Menelaus of Sparta had had finally convinced his brother of creating an alliance with Troy, but the sons of Atreus weren't trully well versed on the language of peace. For so, King Nestor of Pylos offered himself to start the arrangements hoping to accomplish better results. As the only of his daughters available for a political marriage, you were selected to represent the first collaborative gesture of the greeks.
Once Prince Hector of Troy would have made you his wife, he would be in optimal conditions to deal with the Atreides and pact peace as a royal with bonds to he land already established. You father and his were of similar ages, they knew and respected each other despite of standing in opposite sides of the world. It made perfect sense that you would be given to them as a good will present to start the negociations.
The journey was too long and the advice of Nestor was required by the mycenaeans for the ongoing war on Thesaly. Without him, Agamemnon wouldn't be able to persuade Achilles to do his part in the way it would be commanded for him to do. Since your father couldn't split himself in half to attend the needs of each king, the leadership on the diplomatical mission was given to one of your brothers. Antilochus, favorite of the king and your people, delivered you to Troy doing his best to provide a supportive company for you in the difficult time. However, knowing that your father wouldn't be there increased the transactive feeling of the situation.
It was all a bargain between nations, and you were an object being moved from one place to the other.
Bonded for the rest of your life to a man your parents didn't even bother in meeting face to face.
Fame spoke wonders of your future husband, so worthy of trust that your father felt relieved and genuinely happy when the news of Priam's acceptance for the proposal reached Pylos. Hector was claimed to be the sort of man that any father could want for his daughter, that all mothers would feel proud to call their new son, and any respectable lady would dream of marrying. You got sick of being congratulated for having to move to the opposite corner of the world for him. While they were celebrating, you were aware to be essentially loosing your family to live arround strangers for the future chance to share a throne you never wanted.
You hated it and you thought you hated him, untill you saw him for the first time.
Hector was the most handsome man you ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, but he advanced towards you with the calm resignation of a man sentenced to death. He did a great job restricting himself to the formalities, but that was all. In fact, it could be said the meeting had subverted expectations. Charming him on that occasion was your task as the lady of the couple, but he managed to awake a bit of your interest without even trying. While Antilochus noticed how your complaining reduced after meeting your fiance, Paris was struggling to get a smile out of his brother by doing cassual jokes about your beauty.
Polite indiference was all you got from him, even in the day of your wedding. His kiss after sweeping off your veil felt like a handshake to seil the political deal. Logically, you weren't expecting him to hold any feelings for you, but stumbling with his coldness was frustrating. At least in a surface level, you were starting to like him, but you didn't want to humillate yourself trying to make him like you.
Nightfall brought the end of the first day of celebrations, and for the first time, you were meant to be all alone with him. Trojans had similar customs for their hymenaeus, only that the choir of girls following you with torches to light the way to the thalamus was more espectacular than what you would have pictured back in Greece.
It was a magnificent display, romantical sight that contrasted with what was about to happen in that bedchamber.
Lookwise, you were very proud of yourself once the maids finished to prepare you for him. You hair was perfect, your smooth skin impregnated with a delicious perfume, and the thin white nightgown you were wearing was the perfect balance between coverage and exposition of your body. Enough to guess what awaited underneath, but discrete enough to not present yourself naked in front of him.
The color simbolized the purity you were meant to give away for the prince's consumption in the consumation of the marriage. Many greeks would have claimed they wanted to switch places with him, it would have been a joke in the friend group of your brother if they would have seen your transformation and you chuckled to yourself thinking of that as you nervously awaited.
The arrival of your prince changed everything. Amazement of him was strong in your virginal perspective. His toned body was considerably more exposed than before, since he was then only wearing the skirt typically matching his armor, and the perfumed oil freshly applied was giving a subtle shine to his skin. You could have started to feel lucky despite your understandable nerves, if he wouldn't have appeared to be so unaffected by the sight of you in comparison.
A brief look and a smile from afar before proceeding to sit on his side of the bed was all he had for you while your eyes unwillingly feasted on his image. His feet were still touching the floor and he seemed absorbed in some contenplative thinking while staring at the opposite side of the room.
Desperate to break the awkwardness, you attempted to get his attention hoping to help him relax. As a start, you kneeled behind him to caress his neck an shoulders.
" This isn't working. " You commented in a friendly mock. " Normally, the woman is the doubtfull one and it's the man's work to talk her into it. "
Hector was perfectly able to feel the squeeze of your front against his back, how you played with him in a convincing performance of your duty as wife.
" We have to be married, but we don't have to pretend a passion for each other that is clearly not there. "
His warning didn't work to completely dissapoint you.
"I'm just trying to be nice." You excused yourself in a sweet tone. " If it works as consolation, I was the only option Pylos had to offer. I have seven brothers and two sisters: one is already married and the other one is twelve years old. Father convinced me to get here only so none of my brothers will ever have to fight you. "
That simple reference to your family life evoked something stronger than mercy. A memory of someone he loved.
Andromache was a princess and once a sister of seven brothers that had fallen in battle. The reminder that you were just trying to stop the same tragedy from falling upon yourself acted as small comfort for his crushed heart.
She would understand.
" It's not your fault, I accepted the sacrifice. " He vaguely explained. " … My love for one person could never trump the love I have for my people. "
In that simple sentence, he let you know there was someone else in his life before the arrangement and that was the cause of his distant demeanour.
You hugged him from behind with comforting gentleness.
" I was starting to wonder why the brave trojan warrior that almost all greeks fear to face seems so afraid of facing me. " You teased as reply. " Nobody would expect Hector of Troy to flee from the touch of his wife like he has never done for the strikes of the enemy. "
The provocation didn't cause the wanted effect, slnce he didn't mind to live up to his legend in the intimacy of the room.
" I think this is a space safe enough to leave my pride behind. "
He had a point, but he would have to listen yours.
" All I'm going to ask you is to accept you are stucked with me. It's not much, ladies all over the world pretend for husbands they don't like all the time. "
You gave up, collapsing on the matress to bitterly claim your side of the nuptial bed.
" … They fake ecstasy while the strangers on top of them lascerate their virgin insides with their careless thrusting. Women can hold their pain perfectly pretending it's pleasure. You, my friend? All you had to do was giving me a decent kiss for the public to cheer, and you couldn't even do that because you are just so heartbroken. Do you get the cruel irony here? "
Hector followed you, watching you closely as he meditated in your words.
" I have nothing to reproach, you were a flawless bride, but I broke a third fraction of my moral code today. This marriage confronted two of the three rules in it and I had to choose which one I could still follow: to defend my country, I had take a woman I don't love."
He approached a bit closer to kiss your forehead.
" I'll allways respect you, but ríght now I can't be the husband you expected. You have my word, I will do my best, but for a while I believe my company won't be much comforting. "
You turned arround so you could be the one avoiding him.
" I never said I wanted you, I just hoped we could resemble a marriage. "
That wasn't how things were supposed to be like. Despite you weren't a hopeless romantic, you never imagined you would end up with a man who didn't feel the most elemental attraction towards you. Lack of desire in an arranged marriage wasn't supposed to flow in that direction, but the other way arround.
A wife shouldn't be seeking the attention of an indifferent husband instead of commiting to his desires. That wasn't what you were prepared for, since you always guessed it would be expected of you to be sexually required even in a loveless marriage. Rabidly denying your discovered attraction for the heartbroken prince was all you could do to protect your pride after realizing you were useless to him on the most bassic function of your union.
During the week of partying you foud out you weren't the only greek struggling to capture the trojan sensibilities. Antilochus fancied the cousin of your husband, but the girl rejected his every attempt of flirting with frustrating disdain. Keeping the peace mission in mind, your marriage was the best possible outcome. If Briseis would have been to Pylos as your new sister in law instead, her attitude would have caused a political disaster.
The royalty of Troy habitated one strange reality in which their princess freely rejected men with amusing harshness while the youngest prince seduced the most beautifull women arround free of commitement during the celebrations for the heir prince being forced to marry you. It was as if Hector had to assume all the sacrifices so everyone else could live how they wanted. He was the warrior prince so Paris won't have to fight, he had lost the chance to marry the woman he wanted to get trapped with you in an arranged marriage so Briseis could remain a virgin as she had choosen.
The man was a sacrificial bull whose fate was never being questioned, as if he existed to save everyone else.
As his wife, at least in title, you were going to take his side. When the first voices of concern from his relatives started to raise given the obvious fact that he wasn't happy on his marriage, you were not afraid of speaking up.
" I have been going to the temple of Aphrodite every night to pray before reaching my bedchamber. " Briseis was once commenting to him, with sweet naivety. " We need a miracle, but I don't loose the hope for you. "
She meant well and you knew it, but you didn't care. Hector límited himself to thank her and smile, but you couldn't let it pass.
" How about some gratitude instead of your condescending prayers? Are you aware this could have ended up the other way arround, ríght? Under the rules of my world, you should have married my brother. Hector is stucked with me so you won't have to marry one of those warriors you look with pity. "
He couldn't believe what he had witnessed, and he felt relieved it was late enough after dinner for his father to have already retired to his bedchamber.
" You have no reason to scold her for seeking to comfort me. "
Briseis raised up from her seat.
" It's alright, cousin. I understand she is under a lot of pressure. "
If you would have to hear one more pityfull comment, anger would have made you burn on the spot.
" You wouldn't survive in Greece, girl! The life of wives there would slap you in the face and get you off your high horse. " You cutted her off. " Maybe your cousin knows it, and that's why I'm here. "
Paris almost choked in his struggle between drinking wine and stiffling chuckles, what made him an easy target.
" What's so amusing? In greek standards, you aren't even suitable for marriage. No father would give his daughter to a coward archer that only shows off his weapon for hunting. " You inmediately called him out. " I think you know that and marriage terrifies you. Charming the girls is way easier than proving their fathers that you are a man, and if the woman you sleep with is already married you don't even need to worry because the position is occupated. "
Hector slowed you down before your brutal honesty could bring chaos.
" What do you think you are doing?
" Being your wife. " You simply explained. " I couldn't help noticing that your family is a mess and I want to help you fix it. You need a rest, and some acknowledgement of your daily sacrifices ... not like any of them notice. "
The preoccupation sounded sincere and that impressed him. After all, he showed no early emotional investment in you justifying such loyalty.
" We like the mess, but thank you for trying."
For the first time since your wedding took place, Hector gave you a genuine smile expressing real complicity.
If not the wife he loved, he discovered you were at least willing to be a support in his domestic life that was different from the kind his family could provide. You were behaving exactly like your role and rank demmanded, only reproaching your surroundings because you two were the only ones submitted to such thankless pressure.
When Antilochus returned to Pylos with the crew that brought you to asian shores, Hector took the day off to be with you. The last reminiscense of your old home had left on that ship, so he conforted you by actively helping you to slowly build a new one. It was agreed that once you would be established, you would accompany him and his brother on a diplomatical tour bringing you back to Greece, but for that you had to be well adjusted to the new city and your husband.
Under that pretext he convinced himself for seeking to take you out in order to get to know you more. Excuses would pile up whenever he would decide to break the routine and show you some new wonder of his country you could experience together. The wound of his unfullfilled love story from the past remained fresh for a while, so he couldn't admit to himself that there was some interest for you already growing.
However, that didn't stop his father from trying to cassually interfere whenever he could against your mutual resistance.
Priam often approached you by himself to give you history lessons, advice, and all sort of support helping your cultural adaptation. He wanted you to autentically feel as his new daughter and, for the most, he was succeeding.
After one particularly stressfull morning Hector was returning to the section of the palace complex that belonged to both of you since the wedding and found you attending a visit of his father. The servants rushed to welcome him, but he commanded you shouldn't be disturbed.
The King of Troy was asking you news about the heroes emerging in Greece and you were storytelling for him.
" That is a complete misconception. " You were cheerfully correcting him. " Achilles isn't our strongest warrior, that's Ajax of Salamis. He is like a mountain made a man. So strong that a swing of his battle hammer can easily pierce shields."
Priam's curiosity got stronger after the correction.
" Rumours have come to my shores saying the Pelide is the greatest threat Greece has for my kingdom … What is then the cause of such notoriety? "
" He is the fastest: an hurricane bringing devastation wherever he is unleashed. " You completed the tale. " You will never see the lethal blow of Achilles coming before it's too late. King Agamemnon has conquered the majority of Greece by the edge of his sword, but they don't get along. The man holds loyalty to no country. "
The last part didn't surprise the king as much as it should.
" I guess greek heroes just can't compare to my son. "
His comment of pridefull parent purposedly encouraged you to ramble about the virtues of your spouse.
" At risk of ignoring some evidence, I think i will agree. Hector is the best warrior Troy has ever seen, but also a wise, noble, … magnificent man. Of such kind heart, and beautifull as an artwork of Apollo. "
You didn't realized of your mistake after delivering the last part of the sentence and covered your embarassement with laughter.
" … I'm so sorry! That was totally innapropiate!! "
Priam was smiling, easing you with his complicity as if you had given him exactly what he wanted to know.
" I can't blame you for rejoicing of your husband, that's how things should be. "
At that precise moment, Hector revealed himself to make you aware of his arrival.
" Most people would say Paris is the pretty one. "
Your shame was such that you would have wanted earth to swallow you.
" I was merely pointing out you perfectly fit the idea of masculine beauty preferred in Greece. "
" Are greek wives not allowed to like their husbands? " Priam teased you and glanced at his son with amusement. " I haven't visited the country in decades, but I was never aware of that. "
You tried to joke your way out of the situation.
" We are forbbiden from liking them in advance. "
Hector gave a few steps closer in your direction before replying.
" I'm not blind: I can perfectly see i'm married to a beautifull woman. "
Despite he had probably thought about that before, it was the first time he was saying it out loud.
The trip to Greece was a crucial point, not only for the mission started by your marriage, but but for your relationship on itself. It was meant to be structured in two phases. First, you were going to Sparta, where Menelaus would receive you and give you news of Nestor and Agamemnon. If the war against Thesaly was over and the rulers had returned to their kingdoms, you would continue travelling on land to visit Pylos. There, Hector would meet the rest of your family and your father would later accompany you to Mycenae for the hardest part of the tour. After Agamemnon would have accepted the terms of the concerted peace, you would return to Sparta and finish to settle the deal back where you started.
Frightening news for Troy was getting to hear Menelaus saying his brother had conquered the last corner of their country. Suddenly, Hector felt that the inconvenience of being married to a greek that was once a stranger seemed very small in the big scheme of things.
Only once he had the oportunity to dive into greek politics in person, the eldest trojan prince had fully realized what meant to be a son in law of Nestor. The eldest rulling king In the country was highly respected by everyone, and specially the Atreides. He was probably the onlyone whose opinion was completely trusted by Agamemnon, besides from his own brother, and that anecdotic detail was shared by the spartan king himself.
Relaxed on the political front, Hector found time to notice other things.
As intended welcome, Menelaus offered a great celebration that was an autentic show off his fortune. You were drinking, eating and dancing like you didn't properly do during your own wedding party. The promise you made when on the sea of keeping an eye on Paris so Hector could do the deals got sidelined by the mutual discovering going on between you and your husband. Too absorbed in each other to care, being an actual couple instead of an institutional facade.
For a brief instant that disrupted the cheer, he glanced at Helen quietly observing from her seat how everyone else had fun while her husband fooled arround careless of her. Then, Hector looked at you and realized how far you had made it together.
The woman he had in front wasn't the same he awkwardly danced with to keep the appearances on that farse of a wedding celebration. Lonely observant like the spartan queen, only daring to engage in the fun if dragged into it by her brother because she clearly felt she didn't belong there.
You have trully become his wife, his princess.
The realization came to him in the most unexpected moment, on a loud place very innapropiate to talk about feelings.
" Was that what you had in mind when you told me you wanted us to resemble a marriage?" He teased you in whispers, subtly pointing at the royal couple while purposedly leading you into taking a prudential distance from the dancing people. " I see them, and i'm so glad we didn't turn out like them."
It made you chuckle.
" It wasn't them specifically, more of an idea of how a loveless marriage works. "
Hector smirked and pulled you closer, attempting of letting you give in for a hug.
" I understand now what went wrong from the beggining. " He teased the reveal of his conclussion. " … You desired me that night, but noticed I didn't feel the same and that confused you. The uses of your home prepared you to give yourself to a man you wouldn't want, never to not be wanted. Or even less, to find yourself wanting the man rejecting you. It wasn't your fault, as it wasn't mine, but you closed yourself for self preservation after the embarassement you must have felt … And you shouldn't had to feel that way. "
You pressed one hand on his chest as a measure of distance.
" Is this some sick test, Hector?" You called him out, distrustfull. " I'm not the wife you wanted, so I should never want you. I can't do it, that's not how the world works. "
Hector grabbed your wrist softly, gesturally inciting you to accept him.
" Then our world is upside down, but that's fine." He calmed you. " I thought I was respecting the honor of my maiden bride, only to find out she was the one waiting for me. "
You groaned with exasperation, unsure of how to make him understand the real problem going way deeper than that failed episode.
" … You have no idea of how frustrating it is to love you knowing I will never match your lost love. "
The exposure of your hushed suffering made him feel a bit heartbroken for you, but you were also confessing your love for him and that was enough encouragement.
" We needed time … I was not ready to love you, but I am now. "
His metaphorical use of the phrase merged all the possible forms of love he was feeling into one. To make your amazement complete, he grabbed both of your cheeks so you won't be able to escape the passionate public kiss he once couldn't give you on the wedding.
No choir of singing girls guided your way to the bedchamber that time, but you were following Hector and your hearts were beating as one.
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madameminor · 1 year
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WHY I DON'T LIKE TECH x PHEE: An unintentional essay
Alright, yall, I've figured it out on my end. I think. I just need to get some of this out so that I can move past it. I'm not even gonna tag it under tech x phee, cause you know what, I don't want to harsh the mellow over in that space, I'm just voicing what I've discovered.
This is long.
Wanda Sykes: I LOOOOOVE Wanda Sykes, love her - love her so much that I can't see anyone else with her voice. A 60 year old lesbian comedian... and you want to make her a 20 something pirate captain flirting with a male cl- no. No. Capital N. O. Like, I thought she and Rhea Perlman were going to be a fun comedic, older duo playing off of each other. Or that they'd have some sort of sassy relationship. But instead she's a coy, fun adventurer who starts to join in TBB family? Nope. No. Didn't sell it for me. Gimme someone else, might have worked. Try Anika Noni Rose, or if you need that star factor, Halle Barry or Beyonce or, for fucks sake LIZZO (can you imagine her beautiful voice as Phee? OOOO I just shivered. Loved her as the Duchess, but her as Phee! Instantly WAAAAY more excited about that character.) Not Wanda Fucking Sykes (like I said, LOVE her. But no. Choices.)
The Build Up: You guys. We are all literally writers. Where were the beats? Where were the moments? You naturally want there to be a moment the audience goes 'ooooooh yeah ok I see it'. IT HAPPENED WITH HUNTER. The next day I remember quite a few of us going 'OMG YES!!! Yes, totally ship that, saw the chemistry with Phee and Hunter! Into iiiiit.' I resisted that one too, cause of the Wanda Sykes thing, but you know what? IT. WORKED. I went with it cause it worked. Was actually kind of excited. Was looking forward to the fics. Did not happen once with Tech, never saw anyone go 'oh look at that chemistry between pirate and genius'. NOPE BTW SUDDENLY THEY'RE ALL TEASING TECH AND TECH AND PHEE ARE IN A SCENE AND THIS IS ALL ABOUT THESE TWO TAH DAAAAH! No. Nope. Not how it works. Feels like my favorite is getting the shitty end of the romance arc stick. Fuck off, no. We have all written better.
Toxic Matchup: The way Phee (see dude, I almost wrote Wanda. Thats how much I can't not see her in this character) treats Tech. One of my mutuals on here, @shadestepping, put it perfectly - "It’s because instead of understanding who tech is as a person and being respectful of how his mind works, she tries to force him to mask because it’s what she wants/it makes communicating with him easier". The example that keeps popping into my head is when Phee sarcastically says "when two people are talking its called a conversation". My eyebrows shot UP, like, this is one of the FIRST THINGS YOU LEARN about Tech- his face is in his datapad. Treating him like an idiot (which is what it sounds like in Wanda voice) because he is doing what he is always doing is not ok (seriously, WTF, dude?). Another mutual, @dumfanting agreed and shared how that hit them: "As someone whose been forced to mask for her entire life, that is wrong and damaging and perpetuates the idea that we as austitics are only worthy of love if we continue to suppress ourselves." And it really doesn't have to be that way. I can rewrite every scene they are in together, still have her be sassy, have her show interest and respect for who he is, and still move him out of his comfort zone. I will do it, if I need to, just to prove it. If the writers are trying to give her some growth too, cool, then TAKE THE TIME TO DO THAT - instead we only hear how HE's being taken out of his comfort zone. How about HER? You want to be with him? Maybe you have to meet him half way, honey
Ultimately, I could have gotten behind this if it was done another way - but the way they went about it missed so many marks. And for my man, that's unacceptable to me. He deserves the best, not something thrown together.
I have spoken.
(Ok, I think that is out of my system.)
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