#I’m still perfectly fine I just having grown accustomed to it

[synapticconstruction]

Really want yummy treats but seeing the number go down in my bank account devastates me

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Secret Lovers Pt. 2

Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley X Wife!Reader

Now Simon was no stranger to flirting, having used every pickup line he could on you, however he sometimes wasn’t prepared when you would do the same to him. With that knowledge you would only do it to him when no one else was around, no one deserved to see him the way you did.

a/n:this was for everyone who voted in favor of an epilogue/part two to this fic i just want to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who read and gave feedback! warnings:drinking, some slight swearing, mainly Simon being a huge simp for his wife

After everyone had found out about your marriage with Simon all hell had broken loose, from Johnny begging for more information, to John practically running out of the room when all eyes were on him. He’d been the first person you’d told about the engagement, asking if he would stand by Simon’s side when you became one. John was honored, knowing that you’d want him to be there for your special day. You’d expected to feel nervous when you walked down the aisle, Simon’s eyes shining with tears as he tried, and failed, to suppress his smile. Knowing that the love of your life was waiting for you, well it meant more than anything else in the world.

It had been Kyle’s idea to head out to the pub for some dinner and drinks, and who were you to tell any of them no? It’d been quite a while since you’d all been able to go out and let loose, and with everyone knowing about you and Simon it made things easier. So, after grabbing your purse and changing into more comfortable clothes you headed out with the boys. John downright refused to let Simon drive, saying he valued his life more than anything. You offered to drive everyone back home, saying you didn’t want to drink too much anyhow. John agreed, only after he’d gotten into the driver's seat with Kyle calling shotgun. Johnny whined as he crawled into the back, scooting towards the door to give you more space in the middle. Simon wouldn’t admit that he was a major manspreader, thighs wide open in the back seat. You offered to put your legs over one of his thighs if it meant giving Johnny more space to relax.

He simply waved you off, promising that he was doing perfectly fine in his own seat, even if he was definitely trying to seem smaller. You chuckled at his insistence, throwing your legs over Simon’s right thigh and cuddling into his side. It gave Johnny plenty of space to untense his body and relax. Once you reached the pub everyone would have ample space to spread out and relax, you just hoped Simon wouldn’t get too rowdy by the end of the night. He never tended to, too worried about making sure you were alright, but he deserved to enjoy a night out.

“Alright, we’re here, now remember that I’m not driving us back, Y/N will be, so when she says it’s time to go, it’s time to go.” John handed you the keys before getting out of the truck.

The rest of the men followed suit, Simon all but dragging you out and into his arms to keep any prying eyes away from you. Even though the mission you’d gone on was a success, Simon was still nervous that someone had seen you two leave together and word got to his enemies. You’d assured him more than a million times that if anyone had seen you, you had a great team to back you up.

“Thank you John! We’ll meet you inside.” You tucked the keys into your pocket, looking up at your husband.

“Mmm, you look gorgeous darling.” Simon cupped your cheek gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“As do you, dear husband.” You smiled into the kiss, pulling him closer to your body.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” His hands wrapped around your waist, bodies pressed flush together.

“I do believe we ran into one another while getting coffee, and since you’d spilt your tea all over my blouse you wanted to apologize.” It was a day you would never truly forget.

The sky was cloudy, giving off the aura that it could possibly rain, something you’d grown accustomed to after living in Cardiff for so long. You’d been transferred by your superiors, having taken a new job and been given your orders. You were working as a medic for the army, a necessary surgeon for anyone that got injured on base. So far they were few and far between, something you’d become almost thankful for. 

When you’d turned to go into the coffee shop you ran straight into someone else, their tea spilling all over your brand new blouse. The hot liquid stung for a brief moment, cooling nearly instantly in the otherwise balmy air.

“Shit, ouch.” You tried to pull the fabric away from your skin as best you could, not wanting to cause any further damage.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry.” A hand cupped your shoulder, a guilty expression slowly spreading across his face.

“It’s okay, I don’t think it was able to do any damage.” You glanced at the, now empty, cup in his hands.

“I had been on a call, and wasn't paying attention to where I was going.” He frowned, tossing the cup into a nearby trash bin.

You shook your head, it had been an accident and there wasn’t much you could do, but unfortunately now you were soaked and smelled like earl gray tea. Granted it definitely could’ve been much, much worse, but you were more annoyed at being cold and wet.

“If it’s not too much, can I offer to pay for your things as an apology?” It seemed harmless, but who were you to deny such a handsome stranger?

“Yeah, that would be lovely.” You smiled as you followed him inside.

You’d spent the entire time talking while waiting in line, and then sitting down to eat your scone and drink your coffee. You learned his name was Simon, and that he was part of the SAS. However you didn’t have the heart to admit to him that you were actually going to be part of his team, it wasn’t until John had introduced you to everyone. Simon was floored, he’d made the worst first impression a person could, and yet, you still agreed to the first date.

“That may be true, I’m still upset that I ruined such a pretty blouse on you though.” Simon had offered to pay for a new one, claiming it was too pretty for you to simply throw away.

You didn’t tell him that you’d gotten it back home at a thrift store, a lucky find that you only ever wore to help cheer yourself up. In some part you were thankful he’d accidentally ruined your favorite blouse, had it not been for that fateful mistake, you wouldn’t be standing there with him. Sure you were on the same team when needed, but Simon wasn’t one to truly open up to someone right away, you’d been an exception, one in a million.

“I’m not, if losing that blouse meant I got to meet you? Well, let’s just say I’d ruin that blouse a thousand times.” You giggled as his cheeks flushed a light pink.

Now Simon was no stranger to flirting, having used every pickup line he could on you, however he sometimes wasn’t prepared when you would do the same to him. With that knowledge you would only do it to him when no one else was around, no one deserved to see him the way you did. Maybe his teammates, but that was more of a platonic type of love that they all had.

“Such a charmer you are, why don’t we head inside, I’m sure Price is gossiping with Kyle anyway.” You were not proud to admit that you snorted at Simon’s admission.

Kyle and John gossiped like two old women with nothing better to do, they knew everyone that were in relationships on base, who’d cheated on who, who was stealing MRE’s. You name it, they knew it. You wrapped your arm around his waist, heading into the pub to find where the boys had all perched themselves. It should’ve been obvious they would choose the largest booth considering how many people were in your group. You scooted into your seat, leaving enough space for Johnny to your left as Simon plopped down beside you.

“Two weren’t shagging outside were ya?” Johnny already had a pint in front of him, Simon narrowed his eyes at the dark lager.

“Really? Guinness?” Simon had never been a fan of the lager, saying it left an odd taste in his mouth.

“I’ve seen the shit you eat, just because Guinness has more flavor than you’ve ever had in your bland diet doesn’t mean you can shit on it.” Everyone’s jaw dropped, Kyle choking on the sip of his own lager he’d been trying to take.

John hid his wide grin behind his hand, struggling to contain the laughter that was trying so hard to slip through. Unfortunately you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, it was absolutely true that Simon had quite a bland diet before you’d met. It had taken some time but he was actually eating food that didn’t look like it came out of the great depression.

“You’re really sitting there laughing at me?” Simon pinched your side, your squeal echoing across the table.

“He’s not wrong though! So, yes I’m going to laugh.” You grabbed Simon’s hand before he could pinch you again, pressing a kiss to his lips to help distract him.

“Lucky I love you little lady.” Simon pressed one more kiss to your lips and tip of your nose before relaxing in your hold.

John and Kyle had offered to get another round of drinks and food, pointedly ignoring the way Simon glared at Johnny’s now empty pint glass. It was simply a rivalry between friends, Johnny would order something knowing that Simon hated it and vice versa. They’d been doing it for years, both refusing to back down and admit it was silly. And now here you sat between the two, Simon wouldn’t do anything if he knew you’d get caught in the crossfire, he cared too much for your safety. A tray was laid out onto the table before Johnny, or Simon, could make any kind of retort, rendering them both speechless.

“Bartender gave us shots to go along with the drinks, so enjoy boys.” Kyle wouldn’t admit he’d totally flirted with her to get them for free, it was something about the Garrick charm.

Simon rolled his eyes, grabbing one of the glasses and tossing back the shot as if it was nothing more than water. God, something about that shouldn’t be so attractive but for some reason you wanted to climb him like a tree. 

Okay, you needed to cool down and enjoy the night before you could take him to bed and enjoy yourselves. Then again if he got too intoxicated he wouldn’t be able to do anything, you could always wait until tomorrow when he was sober. Yeah, you’d wait until he was sober and then you’d have your way with him.

“Didn’t forget about my favorite girl either.” John smiled as he placed a shirley temple in front of you.

“You’re the best!” You happily took the drink, taking a large sip before placing the glass back onto the table.

Kyle was handing out the food carefully, making sure not to give Simon Johnny’s buffalo wings lest there be an argument amongst everyone. You snuck the plate of mozz sticks, digging into your snack happily. John shook his head once he realized what you’d done, grabbing one off your plate and replacing it with a few of his fries. You’d most likely have Simon get you something else later, they tended to drink a lot when they could.

The conversation was lighthearted and comfortable as you leaned into your husband’s side, relishing in his warmth as he wrapped and arm around you. Kyle was talking about his plans for their next leave, how he was going to visit his parents and catch up with his sister. John didn’t want to admit he was most likely going to have to skip his next leave, Laswell had him booked and busy. You’d noticed that Johnny was a little more quiet than usual, having finished his plate of wings, and cleaning himself up, it was more obvious how he hadn’t even spoken in almost ten minutes.

“You alright?” You rested your hand overtop of his arm, waiting to see if he would acknowledge you.

“Mmm? Yeah, I’m alright lass.” He smiled at you, but something about it seemed off.

“What’re your plans for when you guys go on leave?” You wanted to include him in the conversation, seeing him look so glum broke your heart.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, grabbing his pint and taking a large sip before turning his head to give you his full attention once more.

“I, umm, I’ll be on base the whole time, don’t really have a reason to go home right now.” That wasn’t what you were expecting, Johnny always left to go visit his family when on leave.

“Really? Well, if you’re not going home maybe you can stay with Simon and I?” It was a long shot, seeing each other on base was much different than staying at someone’s home.

Simon nearly choked on his own pint, setting down the glass to slap a hand against his chest to help clear his airways. Your head whipped around, hand raised to press against his shoulder before he shook his head.

“I’m alright hun, but what did you just say?” Simon was shocked, you were inviting Johnny into your shared home? The enemy?

“Oh, I asked Johnny if he wanted to come stay with us when we’re on leave, he’s not going home and since he won’t be working, unlike some, I figured he could stay with us.” It would be harmless, you had plenty of space to let one person visit.

Simon was hoping he’d heard wrong and that you weren’t extending an invite during the only time he actually got away from everyone. He didn’t want to tell you no though, you’d put up with so much already. How bad could it be? Maybe things would be fun and you’d spend the entire time showing off like you tended to do.

“If you really want, I don’t see why not.” This could either be the best decision he’s ever made, or blow up in his face entirely.

You clapped your hands excitedly, turning back to face Johnny who was currently grinning like an idiot.

“It’s settled, you’ll stay with us for your leave, and you boys are welcome too if you’d like to swing by.” You’d never refuse John, he was a frequent flier in your home.

It was mainly dinners, though you’d tried to convince him that he could visit on holiday if he was tempted. You hadn’t seen your parents since before you’d moved to England, they hadn’t known about your marriage either. You wanted to tell them, to tell all about the man that had stolen your heart within a single day. And yet you didn’t, choosing to pursue the relationship with Simon. It might have also been due to the fact your parents hadn’t wanted you to join the army at all. Your father had joined the army when he was eighteen, marrying your mom when they were barely twenty. He’d been adamant that you shouldn’t marry a military man, that they would only hurt you in the long run. Oh how wrong they were.

The boys had gotten well and truly drunk, laughing at the silliest things and ordering even more drinks and food. You were slightly thankful for the food of course, snacking on anything when the boys weren’t looking. Simon’s face was flushed, eyes half lidded as he laughed at another one of John’s terrible jokes. That’s when you knew that the boys had truly passed their limit, when Simon was laughing at dad jokes? He was definitely drunk.

“Alright everyone, it’s time for us to go so I can get everyone into bed safely.” You turned to look up at Simon, noticing in that moment just how drunk he was.

“Awww do we have to?” Kyle was ready to beg, even if it meant staying out for a little while longer.

“Yes you do, I still have to drive home and I can’t do that without you guys.” You pushed into Simon’s side, eyes widening at the giggle he let out.

Everyone else was too preoccupied to notice the noise your husband had made and in some way you were almost thankful no one else had heard him. It was adorable, and getting to hear something like that when he’d let loose? It was a win in your book.

“C’mon big boy, we gotta get up too.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, pushing him towards the edge of the booth once more.

“Okay, okay, ‘m getting up.” Simon slid out slowly, nearly falling onto his ass as the drinks caught up to him.

You scooted out quickly, grabbing onto his arm to help steady him so that he didn’t end up actually hitting the floor. John was more stable than anyone else, even when he was drunk beyond belief he still seemed sober. Kyle and Johnny were both leaning on one another, mumbling something about being too full to keep eating. You began to try and wrangle them all out to the car, listening to Johnny’s insane babbling.

Had they been a little bit more sober you might’ve found it adorable, but when you were trying to wrangle everyone into the car? It was going to take a while, especially if they continued to misbehave. You opened the back door before opening the passenger door and pushing everyone inside.

“I’d like to sleep tonight boys, so if you would be so kind.” You watched Johnny climb into the seat before nearly falling back out of the truck.

Kyle found it to be the funniest thing he’d ever seen, bent over in laughter as John righted the sergeant to make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself. You shook your head, waiting until both Kyle and John were in the backseat before staring at your husband. His brow was furrowed, an expression you’d never seen on his face before. The two of you stared one another down as if waiting for the other to break.

“Simon, please get in the car so we can leave.” He huffed before getting into the seat, shutting the door behind him a little harsher than usual.

Without giving anyone a chance to protest leaving for the night you got into the driver's seat, locking the doors the moment you were settled. Johnny was already snoring softly behind you. He must’ve been more tired than he’d realized, and with the amount that he’d had to drink you were surprised he hadn’t passed out sooner.

The drive back was quiet, nothing except for the sounds of the wind rushing by, and Johnny’s snores, could be heard. Simon had his arms crossed, muscles bulging even under the thick material of his hoodie. You hadn’t seen him this drunk before, it was starting to scare you a little at how annoyed he seemed. Bringing it up tonight seemed like a bad idea, he wouldn’t be able to have a proper conversation anyway. You were almost thankful when the base came into view, ready to get some sleep.

You’d parked the truck in John’s usual spot, slipping out of the car to help get Johnny and the rest of the boys inside quietly. John, while stumbling for a few steps, managed to make it into his room unharmed. Kyle was leaning against the wall, groaning at how everything was fuzzy and swirling around him at the moment. You were afraid he was going to get sick, but thankfully he made it into his room without any injury. Now all your focus was on Johnny who could barely keep himself upright, ready to pass out again.

“C’mon sweetheart, you need to lay down.” You did your best to keep him awake, nearly falling onto the floor with him.

“D’nt wanna.” Johnny collapsed onto the bed once you were in a safe distance, huffing quietly.

“Better stay, I have to get Simon into bed still.” You ran a hand down your face, if Simon was still acting weird this was surely going to be hectic.

Johnny began to snore almost immediately, snuggling with one of his extra pillows. Good, everyone except your husband was in bed. Time to wrestle a six foot four heaping of a man into bed and hope to god he didn’t give you shit. Quickly tucking Johnny in with his blanket to help keep the chill out you headed back out of his room. Simon was standing close enough that he would hear you when you walked out, but his shoulders still seemed to tense. 

“C’mon, it’s time for bed.” You nodded towards your shared room, no longer having to hide that you stayed together.

Simon grumbled something under his breath, too low for you to be able to hear him properly and give your own retort. You wanted nothing more than to change into some pj’s and crawl into bed, a shower could wait until you had more energy. Stepping into the room you threw off your jacket, making sure it at least landed in a chair before grabbing one of Simon’s shirts. The room was nearly silent as you began to get changed, the shuffling of feet echoing. You tore off your shirt and bra, groaning at how good it felt to take off. Simon huffed slightly, the sound catching your attention.

Your brow furrowed as you turned to face Simon, standing in front of the other man in nothing but your jeans. He had his back turned to you, something that hadn’t happened in years. 

“Si?” You reached over to grab his shoulder, startled when he suddenly pulled away.

“I’m sure you’re very nice miss, but I have an amazing wife and I’d rather sleep on the floor than beside you.” Your jaw dropped, Simon was so drunk he didn’t even recognize that you were his wife.

“I’ll give you a pillow and a blanket.” Pulling off your jeans and throwing on Simon’s shirt you giggled, grabbed one one of his pillows and an extra blanket for him to use.

He took them gratefully, laying down onto the hard ground as he did all he could to get comfortable. You knew he’d feel silly in the morning, having slept on the floor when he could’ve wrapped around you like an octopus. It was better than arguing though, Simon could be a mean drunk if it ever came down to it. Yawning slightly you curled up with Simon’s other pillow, breathing in his scent as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

Morning seemed to come too quickly for your liking, the sun seeping into your room from the crack in your curtains. Reaching down you pulled the blanket up and over your head, refusing to admit that it was time to get up.

“Love, why am I on the floor?” Simon’s voice was still thick with sleep, it was definitely doing things for you.

“You insisted on sleeping down there, said that you had a lovely wife and didn’t want to sleep next to me because of it.” You couldn’t stop the giggle that slipped through, pushing the blanket back down to roll over and face him.

“Jesus, how drunk was I?” Simon rubbed his head, face pale as the hangover took over.

“All of you guys were pretty drunk, Johnny passed out in the truck on the way back.” Shit, if he didn’t remember much of last night, he wasn’t going to remember you inviting Johnny to stay with you. You wondered if the Scot remembered your offer.

Simon pushed off the floor, crawling into the bed beside you and snuggling into your chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his head. The rest of the boys could worry about themselves for a few minutes, right now you were going to care for your husband. And ponder how you were going to admit that his friend would be staying with you for nearly a month.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

[miumura]

(Y)OUR EXPECTED FATE — JUNGWON FF

“ i always want you when i’m finally fine. ”

SYNOPSIS Jungwon felt he was on the verge of uncovering the solution — how to make you stay by his side for eternity. He had always loved you, and in every lifetime, you reciprocated that love. Convincing you to become immortal with him should be straightforward, right? However, your response proved far from what he desired, as if it were destined to be just his expected fate in every lifetime.

( 🗝️ ) THE PAIRING sorcerer!jungwon x knight-gn!reader

⌞ + ⌝ GENRE royalty au, doomed immortal x mortal, angst, subtle amounts of fluff !

𓍼 WARNINGS mentions of injuries (cuts/bruises), mentions of blood, mention of lifeless body, use of petnames

♡⸝⸝ WORD COUNT — 2.2K+ ( 2262 )

AUTHOR’S NOTE there was this one tiktok that had a plot like this and UGH i couldn’t get it out of my head…so you know i had to write this !! creds to that one tiktok bc i kept thinking about this all day…🤍 also, part one? maybe????

—> READ PART TWO ( HIS EXPECTED FATE ) HERE !

Jungwon lingered around the entrance, waiting for you to meet him. He knew you were practicing on the training grounds, and he was worried that you might overexert yourself once again. While he admired your dedication, a deep concern always lingered, fearing that such commitment could lead to severe injuries. But, he wouldn’t be surprised if you did walk out looking all rough. After all, he was used to that sight of you.

“Jungwon!” As you finally approached, he heard your cheerful greeting. However, this time, something was different. Your smile remained as bright as ever, yet the cuts on your arms and face had increased, now more pronounced and bloodied. Typically, Jungwon would rush over to greet you with a smile, but this time, his heart raced for entirely different reasons.

"YN!" Worry filled Jungwon's tone as his fingers gently brushed against your cuts, causing you to wince at the slight burning sensation. A guilty look adorned your face as you avoided making eye contact with him. Taking hold of your cheeks, he directed your head to meet his gaze, and soon his eyes cautiously inspected the wounds on your arms.

"Don't look at me like that," you chuckled lightly, seemingly unfazed by the numerous injuries sustained in the past hour. Jungwon shook his head, "Just when I thought I could leave you alone to take care of yourself."

"I just overdid it today—I promise not to show up all bloody like this next time," you firmly said, but he was aware that it was another one of those promises you might struggle to keep. Jungwon grabbed your wrist, leading you away from the training grounds and swiftly taking you to the secluded spot that had become your retreat.

“Sit there,” he pointed at the tree stump nearby, and made his first aid kit appear out of thin air. Jungwon being a sorcerer was definitely shocking to you, although after encountering so much magic within the realm of royalty, it shouldn't have been surprising. Still, you still find yourself randomly wondering how he was able to do things like that within a split second.

"Look at me," he softly instructed, followed by a quiet sigh. It was evident that seeing you hurt stirred a deep discomfort within Jungwon, even if the injuries were minor. As he wiped the blood from your cuts with a cotton bud, both of you winced simultaneously. It seemed he had grown accustomed to reacting this way.

"You know, I still don't understand why you panic like this. You always manage to treat me perfectly," you remarked, attempting to ease the tension with a hint of humor.

"And you always worry me—your injuries are getting worse as the days go by. Did you think I wouldn't notice the bruises on your knuckles either?" Jungwon reached for your hand with his free one, lightly caressing your fingers while still focused on inspecting your face. "You shouldn't ruin a face like this—not that I'm saying that in a bad way. Is there a different way for you to train so vigorously?"

"Well, what do you expect a skilled knight like me to do? To just back down now that I've built myself a reputation?" you chuckled. "No can do."

"Well, YN, I wouldn't laugh during a situation like this, where you have me tending to your awful cuts."

"Dropping the honorifics, huh?"

“My apologies, Sir YN. Is there anything else you command me to do?” A soft laugh leaves your lips again, causing the tense Jungwon to finally break into a small smile. It was as if your laughter was his medicine.

“Kiss me.” Jungwon's face flushes, but he places his hands on the sides of your face, slowly leaning in. Just as you close your eyes, you hear a slight giggle. Feeling something other than his lips on yours, you open one eye to see him just treating your wounds again as if he didn't just tease. “You’ve got a cut here–wait until I finish.”

“Hey that’s not…” Your voice trails off when he unexpectedly kisses your cheek. “...nice.” A peck comes with the next, and it just keeps going. He continues smothering kisses on your face, now making you want to escape his grasp despite you asking for them in the first place.

After giving you the final peck on your lips, he moved away from your face, a proud grin on his face for his handiwork. Handing you a small mirror, you examined your face and noticed how all the gashes from training had disappeared. Touching your cheekbone, you inquired, “What did you just do? That seems like a new technique you've learned.”

“You wanted kisses, didn't you? So, I did a little something,” Jungwon replied with a mischievous smile. “And it's a secret.”

“How mean,” you huffed lightly.

“I still need to tend to your arms and hands. Can you try to stay still for me, my love?”

Jungwon completed the task more swiftly than he had anticipated. He yearned to kiss you more, as his actions seemed to convey more than words ever could. Seating himself beside you, he lay on the tree trunk behind, reaching out for your hand. Together, you both gazed into the horizon without uttering a word.

He wished for you to rest, recognizing that even though he had healed your cuts, your body remained fatigued. Your energy levels hadn't been up to par lately, and he couldn't help but worry if there was something more serious at play.

But, even in quiet times like these, these moments are things he actually cherished the most. It allowed him to collect his thoughts.

Glancing back at your calm state, the question Jungwon had lingering in the back of his mind finally comes back to him.

Right.

He had to ask you this. But how?

Would he ruin this moment for the both of you?

A wave of countless thoughts flooded Jungwon's mind. The timing never seemed quite right. When would he ever get the chance to share something this important with you? This quiet moment was the only time you and he spent together without any peculiar occurrences.

Should he just ask the question already?

Should he— “Jungwon, do you need something?”

“Huh?” Caught off guard, Jungwon blinked for a moment. He hadn't realized that he was lost in his own thoughts. Shaking his head slightly, he offered a sheepish smile. "No, nothing in particular. Just enjoying the moment with you."

"Is everything okay? Your hold on my hand is a bit...” He noticed the tightness in his grip and instinctively loosened it. “Sorry.”

“You seem like something is on your mind. Why not share it with me?” In moments like these, your attentiveness always shone through. Despite his usual tendency to back away, this time, Jungwon felt a stronger urge not to let the opportunity slip by like any other day.

“Well, um,” He found himself stumbling over words, struggling to articulate his thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions. Your understanding gaze encouraged him, appreciating the cute side of him you always found endearing.

“I... I wanted to ask you something important,” Jungwon finally confessed, looking into your eyes with a mixture of nervousness and determination. Your expression softened, encouraging him to continue. “What is it?”

He took another deep breath before speaking, “YN, have you ever thought about... eternity? About staying by someone's side forever?”

“Eternity you say…” You thought deeply of the question–it was certainly one of those questions that went beyond the usual conversations you two would have. “Well, I guess I have considered that–in a different sense. What makes you bring this up all of a sudden?”

“I said I would protect you for my whole life, did I not?” His hands interlocked with yours, and his tone…

His tone seemed rather…

Sad.

You knew his emotions better than anyone else could; you could instantly tell if something was off. It was as if he had repeated that question to you countless times before.

You just didn’t know how to explain it. It was just a gut feeling.

But why would he be sad?

You didn't quite understand it, but you hesitated to delve deeper.

“And you have done great so far, my dearest,” You tried to offer comfort, tightening your hold in response. “My wounds have never healed better when I’m around you.”

He nodded, appreciating your reassurance. “Of course, my love. Seeing you hurt is something I can't bear, especially when I know I can do something about it. But...that's not exactly what I'm trying to say.”

“Oh?”

Jungwon hesitated for a moment before letting out a nervous chuckle, “I was just... wondering if you'd be open to the idea. You know, staying with someone you care about for a very, very long time. Like, forever.”

The sincerity in his eyes left you with a sense of vulnerability, and you realized that this wasn't just an ordinary conversation. Jungwon seemed to be hinting at something much more profound.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

He sighed, nodding his head. “Yes…what I’m trying to say is that I find I can find a way to keep you beside me forever.”

“You mean... granting me immortality?”

“Exactly.” He nodded, his hold on your hand tightening, as if he had no intention of letting you go. “I’ve been experimenting with various spells from the countless books I’ve read during endless nights. I can share some of my findings with you, if you’d—”

“My love, I must decline that offer.”

“Huh?” Jungwon was puzzled by the sudden interruption. Gazing at you with widened eyes, he realized you weren't joking.

You were being serious.

“Oh. Is that so…” You noticed his eyes glistening, causing a twinge in your heart. Making people feel sad, especially those you love, was something you truly hated.

“Don’t misunderstand—I love you deeply, more than words could convey. But, after all the achievements I’ve accomplished as a knight, I don’t want them to go to waste.”

Jungwon couldn’t comprehend it.

“But, my love, how would it go to waste? Your accomplishments will be remembered for ages, even centuries. And you can continue achieving much more... if you choose to stay.”

He's trying his best—he wants you to stay. Was it selfish of him to wish for that? However, there's no time for self-doubt; what shouldn’t be doubtful is his love for you.

He wants you.

So he pleads. He tries his absolute hardest.

He’s just so close.

So close to stopping this wretched fate of his.

“Why, aren’t you the sweetest?” you smiled, freeing him from your grasp to run your fingers through his hair, providing instant solace. With your touch, Jungwon sighed, this was clearly taking a toll on him.

“Is…is that a yes?”

“The answer is still a no. I want to stay by your side as a mortal being.”

“But…but why?” he questioned, a mix of confusion and desperation in his eyes.

“Because, that way, it can make our memories more cherishable, don’t you think?” you smiled at him, your words piercing through his heart. How could you radiate joy in a moment like this? However, he couldn’t deny the truth in your statement. Across countless past lives, you were always a part of them, turning each one into a profoundly memorable experience.

Different clothes, different situations, different personalities—he had encountered them all. Yet, irrespective of the flaws or imperfections, he found himself drawn to you in every single life.

He remembers all the moments he’d be able to make you smile.

He remembers the sweet laughs you’d have—each one he would consider as a beautiful melody.

He remembers what had made you happy in those lives.

He knows them all by heart.

He longs to share those stories with you, but the fear of overwhelming you with his endless tales holds him back.

He would never want to burden you like that.

“I guess so…” he manages to utter, his voice choked with unspoken emotions.

“I can tell you’re hurt,” your tone softens, your smile fading into a slight frown. “But it just won’t be the same. I would feel much prouder about how many things I can accomplish during my time. I hope you understand.”

His lips thinned, and he slowly nodded, trying to convey that he was okay. Attempting to hold his head high, he looked at you with a certain glint in his eyes. “As long as you’re happy, my love.”

“Thank you,” you exhaled, shifting your position to lay on his lap, closing your eyes. Jungwon chuckled, a bittersweet sound, brushing your hair away from your face. “Let’s just relax, hm?”

“Yeah. Relax,” Jungwon agreed, feeling his energy drain out of him. How could he relax? He was tired. How many more moments like this could you two share before he was forced to part from you again?

He can feel the tears he tried holding back come back to him. His eyes were becoming blurry as he continued to look down at your figure.

He feels even sadder, as his blurry vision seemed to portray what he eventually ends up experiencing.

He should’ve known by now.

No matter the timeline, he was fated to be separated from you.

Despite his efforts, he would watch you leave, helpless to change the outcome.

The haunting image of holding your lifeless body would repeat, tears streaming down uncontrollably.

A new start awaits, but it was another wretched path he was forced to follow.

This was his expected fate.

💬 : ayaya

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[good-beanswrites]

"Prisoner @waivyjellyfish ! Milgramblrgram has judged you guilty for your crimes! It is time to meet your judgement. As the wardens' fang, I take that responsibility upon myself!" (Muahaha -- Es angst for you 👊)

Es clutched at their head. Their fingers tore through their hair. It was the middle of the night, so they resisted the urge to shout. They didn’t want to draw any attention to themself. If they remained completely silent, though, they wouldn’t need to refrain from crying.

And so they cried.

You see, there is only one sensation worse than waking up from an awful dream: waking up from a very, very, good one. 

Es had grown accustomed to the nightmares that Milgram produced. In these dreams, Es might take the place of the prisoners. Their stomach would twist with horror at the blood on their hands. Other times, they found themselves in the victim’s shoes. They’d wake in a cold sweat, feeling hands closing around their throat, or weapons swung at their temple. 

But they weren’t prepared for a dream of absolute peace. They were happy. They were laughing. There were people nearby, smiling. It was all emotion and no detail – not a single face, place, or voice, was clear – but they knew for sure what the dream had consisted of.

Es was with their family. 

They choked out another sob. 

For the longest time, they wondered if they even had a past to remember. But that was all foolishness – Milgram was in the business of judging humans, not creating them out of thin air. They’d tried asking Jackalope, once. He turned out just as cryptic as some of the prisoners in their interrogations. Another time, they had considered using the prison’s mysterious machine on themself. There was no way to operate it alone, though. And when it came down to it, they were always alone.

They curled themself tight, dragging the bedsheets with them. Usually when they wondered about their past, mere curiosity washed over them. Now, they were flooded with an entirely new type of longing. It filled their chest. No, that wasn't it. Rather, the feeling left a wide hole through them.

If they did have a family, had Es been stolen away? Could there be someone else out there right now, crying in the middle of the night, just as hard as Es was crying for them? The thought was not comforting.

Or, like Es, had they forgotten all traces of their connection? That possibility also did more harm than good.

Es tried to reassure themself – if this family hadn’t come looking for them, maybe it meant they weren't wanted in the first place. Maybe Es had been willingly turned over to Milgram, their parents glad to be rid of them.

That thought didn't help at all.

Something clattered out in the corridor. That must have been what woke them. They rose from bed, ready to raise hell. How dare one of the prisoners rip them from such a dream. Es could never return. The offender would pay for this. 

It took only a moment to put on their uniform and wipe the tears from their cheeks. They swung the door open to find Haruka stumbling down the hall. 

“Prisoner number one, what the –” they grabbed his arm. Only then did they notice the dazed look in his eyes. His body flinched, waking from what must have been sleepwalking.

“Ah! W-warden!” He blinked, his mind still stuck somewhere else. “I’m s-sorry! What, ah… I was dreaming... She was – she was right here…”

Es took a measured breath. They steeled their expression. There would be no unleashing hell tonight. They had lost sight of their role. They had gotten distracted with childish emotions and silly dreams. They were Milgram’s warden, not some kid like Haruka who wandered around the prison late at night looking for his mama. 

Es adjusted the hat over their hair. It was good, they told themself, that they couldn't remember a thing from the dream. They didn't need any of those people. They were perfectly fine on their own. Such a distraction would not happen again.

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

“But, my p-parents, they were–”

“They’re not here. Nobody is. Back to your cell, prisoner.”

[bambinella]

Casual Wednesday Night

A/N: I FINALLY finished this one, took me way too long but I’m happy with it! And let’s be honest, we need more Wednesday and Enid around here! Enjoy!

Warning: none, just fluff

Word Count: 2581

Wednesday opened the door to her shared room with a little more force than required, making the wood slam against the stone and making her roommate, Enid, look up with a yelp. Although Enid had grown accustomed to the many moods of Wednesday, sometimes they still surprised her. Wednesday didn’t say a word as she slammed the door shut again, making her way towards Enid’s disgustingly pink bed. She stared at it for a moment, considering her options, before flopping down face-first onto soft covers. Enid, who had been scrolling on her phone, looked up briefly before continuing scrolling with a giggle.

“What poor, unfortunate soul do you want to murder today?” She asked. Wednesday let out a muffled grumble as a response.

“Xavier keeps asking me to pose for a painting. That’s the third time he asked in two weeks, and it takes a lot of effort to keep avoiding him. We all know he can paint perfectly fine from just his dreams, as weird as that sounds,” She huffed, sitting up straight. “So that means he’s just trying to get me to hang out with him. Why would he possibly do that?”

“I don’t know, maybe he’s actually in love with you or something,” Enid chuckled, earning a deadly glare from her roommate. As ridiculous as that sounded, she knew that Enid had a point. Xavier was stupid enough to fall in love with her, despite all the numerous death threats warnings she had given him.

“And since I have the Principal's eyes on me with the whole ‘Hyde’ situation, I can’t just murder him and get on with life. No! I have to be nice to him, I can’t even torture him now,” Wednesday grumbled under her breath, letting out a dramatic sigh, which earned another giggle from Enid. The blonde was used to those statements by now.

“Why don’t you just tell him no, instead of avoiding him?” Enid asked, finally putting her phone to the side to fully pay attention to her friend. Wednesday didn’t look at her as she shrugged.

“Boys are stupid, he simply wouldn’t understand, so there’s no point in me trying to explain it to him.” She said, laying down on her back this time. It wasn’t a complete lie, she had seen her fair share of boys being stupid. She just didn’t want to see Xavier. After coming to Nevermore, Wednesday had realized that her black heart was not as black as she had originally thought, especially after meeting Enid. For a reason she couldn’t exactly put her finger on, she had allowed Enid into her life, and the blonde had added colors to her existence. While Wednesday usually enjoyed pain and suffering, this was a torture she hadn’t been prepared for. However, slowly but surely she had gotten used to having Enid around her, and now she was at the point where she actually enjoyed the blonde’s presence. She’d never admit that out loud, of course, and while she had accepted Enid, she didn’t feel the need to accept anyone else like that. Xavier be damned.

“I guess I’ll have to stay in this room for the rest of my days,” Wednesday said with another dramatic sigh, causing Enid to playfully roll her eyes.

“Well at least you get to stay in this room with your favorite person in the whole world!” The blonde declared with a giggle, earning another glare from her dark haired friend.

“Don’t push it, Sinclair,” She muttered, yet there was no bite in her words. She had to admit that staying here, with Enid, was the lesser evil of the two compared to seeing Xavier. Even if the bed she was staying on was ridiculously soft and pink.

“Aw come on, we both know it’s the truth,” Enid giggled as she shuffled closer to Wednesday, who now refused to look at her. Instead, she was staring at the ceiling. “After all, we’re BFF’s!” Wednesday gagged at that, earning an eye-roll from Enid.

“I’d rather eat a piece of glass before I say that out loud.” She said with a deadpan stare. 

“Oh now you’re just being dramatic! We both know it’s the truth,” Enid said with a grin as she sat next to her on the bed, deciding to push it despite the warning she had gotten earlier. “Just admit it, Wednesday!”

“Enid–” Wednesday started, thinking about the possibilities to threaten the werewolf with. All of that, however, was interrupted when said werewolf started poking her side to further persuade her. A sharp gasp left her lips as she sat up, and her hand immediately grabbed Enid’s wrist. Any other person would have gotten a broken hand - and possibly arm - for even thinking about touching her. Enid stared at her, eyebrows raised as she took in the reaction and the gentle yet firm grip. She had been raised by her older brothers, so it took only a second to realize what was going on. A mischievous grin slowly spread on her face, sending a shiver down Wednesday’s spine.

“Oh? Are you ticklish Wednesday?” The blonde asked, keeping a close eye on her friend. Wednesday stared at the blonde, considering her options. She could lie, yet she had a feeling Enid would be able to tell. She could threaten her, but Enid probably knew by now that Wednesday wouldn’t actually hurt her. Still, definitely worth a shot.

“Enid, the last person who tried to tickle me lost a finger. I wouldn’t if I were you.” Wednesday said in the most threatening voice she could muster, trying hard to ignore the weird, bubbly feeling in her stomach. Whenever her parents tried to tickle her, she absolutely despised it, and when her brother tried to tickle her she’d bury him alive for a few hours. She had hated tickling for as long as she could remember. So why didn’t she feel the same hate towards it now? Enid only grinned wider at her.

“Oh really?” She asked with a wide grin, turning into the predator she really was. Wednesday could tell that her threat didn’t work, and that Enid was up to no good, yet before she could escape Enid had already pounced.

“Enid! Get off of- ahAH! Ahahaha! I’ll kihihill you!” Wednesday tried really hard to hold back her laughter, but simply couldn’t as Enid shook her hands into her ribs. The blonde had straddled her waist, making it impossible to roll away. “Oh. My. God! Wednesday, you need to laugh more, your smile is so cute!” Enid cooed, making her blush hard and wish she could die then and there to escape from the embarrassing display. Wednesday pushed as hard as she could against Enid’s arms, yet she was no match for the werewolf’s strength. The blonde giggled at the attempt and started kneading her sides, earning a loud cackle from her friend.

“Nohohohohoo! S-stohohop tihihihickling meehehehehe!” She tried to curl up into a ball to protect her own sides, yet Enid’s hands always managed to slip past her defenses. 

“Okay! Just admit that we are BFF’s, and I’ll stop tickling you!” Enid said happily while clawing at her stomach. Enid’s claws were no joke, Wednesday realized, as they tickled more than anything she had ever experienced.

“Whahahahat?! Noohohoho! Nehehehehhever! Ehehenid staahahahahap!” She tried to give Enid a threatening glare, yet it was automatically defused by her giggles. Admitting that out loud? There was no way she’d admit that Enid was right! 

“Never, you say? Well it looks like I’m not tickling you enough, then!” Enid declared with the most mischievous grin Wednesday had ever seen. Without a moment of hesitation, she shoved her hands into Wednesday’s underarms, earling a loud shriek from the girl as she started wiggling her fingers. “No! NO! NOHOHOHOHO! OHOHOHO STOHOHOHOP!” Wednesday wanted to murder herself for laughing out loud like that, yet she couldn’t help herself. It really, really tickled. She kicked her legs and slammed her arms to her sides in a futile attempt to stop Enid. 

“You know how to make it stop, Wednesday,” Enid sang teasingly, completely unbothered by her arms. She kept wiggling her nails into her underarms, laughing along with the usually stoic girl. Wednesday cursed herself for getting into this situation. There was no way she was going to say it out loud, and Enid wouldn’t stop until she did. Was this her end? Was Wednesday Addams going to be tickled to death?

“Ehehehenid! Enid stohohohohop ihihit! I’ll gehehehet yoHOHOU!” Wednesday shrieked, rolling side to side on the bed. Oh she was going to kill Enid, if she didn’t die herself. Enid merely chuckled at her.

“Sure you will! But until then, I’ll just– h-hey! Hehehehey nohohoho! Stohohoop!” Enid suddenly stopped tickling as she burst into loud giggles herself. Confused, Wednesday looked up to see what was happening, and couldn’t help but smirk a little while catching her breath. Thing had entered the room without either of them noticing, and was crawling up Enid’s torso while squeezing up and down at her side. Taking advantage of the situation, Wednesday wrestled Enid down until they had switched positions, straddling the young werewolf.

“Thihihihing! Why?” Enid giggled as the hand let go of her side to hop on top of her stomach, shrugging as he ceased his tickle attack. “What do you mean, because ‘you felt like it’?!”

“Took you long enough,” Wednesday said, yet smirked at Thing. “Now could you be so kind as to hold her arms up?” She said while cracking her fingers. The hand did his interpretation of a nod and used his surprising amount of strength to pin one of Enid’s arms over her head.

“Thing! You traitor!” Enid playfully cried out as she tugged at her arm, before looking at Wednesday with a nervous expression. “W-Wednesday! We can talk about this, right? Let’s talk about this!” She said. Wednesday looked at her for a moment, a smirk forming on her lips.

“No.” She said, dooming Enid to death by tickles as well. She jerked up her pink, fluffy sweater and started tickling her stomach, ironically earning a bark of laughter from the blonde. While Wednesday had at least tried to hold back her laughter, Enid seemed to let it out a lot easier. Having older brothers meant getting tickled to pieces on many occasions, so Enid was way more familiar with the topic than Wednesday, and didn’t seem to mind. She, however, was also very ticklish, and was now having a taste of her own medicine.

“Noooohohohohohoho!! Ohohoho it tihihihihickles!!” Enid howled, earning an eye-roll and a tiny smile from Wednesday. Enid looked adorable, as usual. She scribbled her black painted nails all over Enid’s belly, her smile growing wider as the blonde started kicking her legs.

“Of course it tickles, that’s the whole point of me tickling you,” Wednesday said matter of factly, as if she wasn’t sending Enid into a hysterical giggle-fit. She wiggled one finger into her bellybutton, earning another howl of laughter. “NOOOohohohoho!! Ohohohoho stohohohohahp!” Enid cackled loudly, using her free hand to cover her stomach. Wednesday tsked and pinned it to the bed with one of her own, before continuing her assault on her bellybutton.

“The more you squirm, the more I will punish you. Usually I’d hang someone upside down by their ankles in the dungeon for tickling me, after cutting their fingers off, but…” Wednesday said, yet didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to, as Enid knew her well enough by now. Wednesday would never hurt her. Usually Enid would gush over such a statement, and probably attempt to hug her friend, but for now escaping from being tickled to death by Wednesday and Thing was a priority. 

“Ihihi cahahaHAHAn’t hehehehelp ihihit! It tihihickles SOHOHO BAHAHAhahad!!” She laughed while arching her back, her nose curled up as she got a wide, toothy smile on her face. Once again Wednesday felt that bubbly sensation in her stomach while looking at Enid. She was… having fun. Tickling Enid was fun, and her laughter was very contagious, so it cost her all her willpower not to laugh along with her.

“Still not listening, huh? Let’s amp it up a bit,” Wednesday said, letting go of Enid’s arm to shake both hands into her ribs. “Thing, go get her feet!” She added. Enid gasped as the hand let go of her wrist and made a grab for him, her eyes wide open. “Thing no! Don’t you daaahahahahare! Wednesdahahahahahay! Eehehehehee stohohop!” Her reaching arm immediately pulled back to curl in on herself when Wednesday touched her ribs, her legs kicking wildly to try and stop Thing from grabbing her ankle. Unfortunately for her, Thing managed to grab a hold of her foot, using his thumb to scratch against the bottom of her foot. The blonde completely lost it and let out a roar of laughter.

“Are you sorry for tickling me yet? Well?” Wednesday questioned, gently shaking and drilling her fingers into the ridiculously ticklish ribs. Despite her love for tickling, the combination of rib tickles AND her foot getting tickled was getting too much for the blonde.

“Yehehehes!! I am! I aaAHAHAHAM! OHOHO THIHIHING STOHOHOHOP!” Enid laughed her head off as Thing started tickling underneath her toes. Good thing Enid couldn’t concentrate enough to wolf out while being tickled, Wednesday thought. That would be problematic.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over your laughter,” Wednesday teased, unable to help herself. She enjoyed listening to her laugh. Enid was pushing against her shoulders to push her away, so she took the opportunity to tickle under her arms, making the blonde throw her head back in another fit of laughter. “I’M SOHOHOHOHORRY! PLEEHEHHEHEASE! I CAHAHAHAN’T!” The werewolf pleaded, and Wednesday could tell that she needed a break. Giving a look over her shoulder at Thing, the two of them stopped at the same time, allowing Enid to breathe.

“That’s what you get,” Wednesday chuckled as she slipped off of her friend, resuming her previous position next to the blonde. Enid, who panted heavily, wore a happy smile on her face as she looked at Wednesday.

“W-worth it,” She said, giggling at the somewhat playful glare she got. “I meant what I said, though, you’re really cute when you smile,” Enid added with a smile. Wednesday’s eyes widened as she looked away to hide a blush.

“Shut up,” She said, yet there was once again no venom in her tone. “... Your laugh is cute, too,” She mumbled after a short silence. Old Wednesday would kick her for saying something like that, but she didn’t really care right now.

“Awww!! See, we really are B–” 

“Don’t make me tickle you again, because you will die this time.” Wednesday threatened with another glare, causing Enid to cover her mouth with a hand, both smothering the rest of the sentence and her giggles. 

“Okay okay! Sooo, what do you wanna do now? Write another chapter?” Enid questioned as she looked over at her friend. Wednesday thought about it for a moment, before shaking her head.

“I think I’ll stay here for now. Once you get past the disgust for the color, it is a pretty comfy bed,” She said. Enid grinned widely and mouthed ‘BFF’ one more time, and this time Wednesday rolled her eyes with a small smile. She’d never say it out loud, but being BFF’s with Enid didn’t seem like such a bad thing after all.

[joeliz99]

Getting the Falcon Role- Danny Ramirez

Description: Danny gets exciting news regarding his career and the first person he delivers it is his wife.

Warnings: None, Pure fluff

—————————————————————

“I made you some breakfast so you can take it with you. Try to eat something before the audition,” I say, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching Danny focus on his reflection in the mirror.

A few seconds pass in silence. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he struggles to get his hair just right. I step closer, reaching out to smooth the back of his head, and press a light kiss where his neck meets his shoulder.

“You’re going to do great… Don’t stress about it. They’ve worked with you before, and they know how talented you are,” I reassure him softly.

“Yeah, I know,” he replies, his voice coming out almost too cockily, with a hint of bravado that doesn’t quite mask his underlying anxiety.

I catch his eye in the mirror, giving him a teasing look. It only takes a moment for him to notice and turn to face me.

“I’m sorry. I’m so nervous I could shit my pants right now. I don’t even know what I’m doing with this,” he says, gesturing vaguely to his hair. I raise an eyebrow—he looks perfectly fine to me.

“Alright, sit down. I’ll handle it for you,” I offer.

He sits obediently, allowing me to stand between his legs to get a better angle on his damp hair.

“Just don’t use too much product, okay? I want it to look natural,” he murmurs.

“I’ve got it,” I assure him. A couple of minutes pass in silence before he speaks again.

“Babe, I don’t want it to look too neat. Don’t overdo it,” he insists, his nerves peeking through.

“I’m not overdoing it. Just relax,” I reply calmly.

Another couple of minutes pass before he interrupts again.

“Can I see? I just want to—”

“Danny! Can you please let me finish?” I interject, laughing. “I’m literally two curls away from being done. Chill! I’ve done this a thousand times.”

That’s enough to silence him, though I can tell it takes some effort. When I finally step back and let him see the finished result, he breaks into a reluctant smile, realizing he has no complaints.

Ten minutes later, he’s ready to leave, having spritzed on some cologne and put on his wedding ring along with the two chains he always wears.

He doesn't want to eat, but he won’t refuse the breakfast I made, even if I know he won’t touch it until after the audition.

Before he leaves, we say a quick prayer—something he’s grown accustomed to over the six years we’ve been together.

I pull him into a tight hug, wishing him all the luck in the world, then rise on my tiptoes to give him a few light kisses. He thanks me, still holding me close, and before stepping back, he gives me one more kiss, deeper and more lingering.

“I’ll let you know how it goes. I love you,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I love you, too,” I respond with a smile as I walk him to the door, watching him until he disappears into the elevator.

Hours later, we speak on the phone. His voice is noticeably more relaxed and cheerful than it was this morning.

“I think I’ve got a good chance. They had a lot of positive things to say, you know? And Sam told me the role is pretty much mine. But I don’t know… I don’t want to get my hopes up. Or maybe just a little,” he says, grinning at me through the phone camera. I can’t help but smile back.

“I mean, if Sam said it, why wouldn’t we believe him, right?” I reply encouragingly.

“But we could just be delulu right now. Sam loves me. That’s definitely something he’d say,” Danny laughs.

“Who cares? Let’s be delulu, then. Nobody can play that role better than you.”

_________________

Time passes by and Danny keeps working harder every single day. New projects keep coming his way, and he is profoundly grateful for every opportunity. After so many years of navigating an industry with limited roles for Latinx actors, this is a major breakthrough.

Nearly four months after the audition, he finally receives the news he had been waiting for during a meeting with the production team and his agent.

As soon as Danny steps out of the building, a surge of adrenaline pushes him forward. He sprints down the bulding, his heart pounding in sync with his racing thoughts. He hardly notices the people he weaves through, the city blurring around him as he focuses solely on getting home. When he reaches our front door, he bursts through with such force that the door almost bangs against the wall. His bag slips from his shoulder and thuds to the floor, forgotten in his excitement.

“(Y/N)! Baby, where are you?!” he calls out, his voice carrying a mix of exhilaration and urgency.

I don’t hear him at first. I’m in the studio, headphones on, fully immersed in the process of layering tracks, the bass reverberating through me. It’s only when I catch a faint sound through the music—a distant, frantic shout—that I pause, lifting one earphone.

He bursts into the office/studio, his face flushed, eyes bright with an intensity I haven’t seen in a while. I swivel around in my chair, startled by his sudden entrance.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” I ask, concern flickering in my eyes as I take in his breathless state. Before I can react, he scoops me up from my chair, lifting me off the ground with an unexpected burst of strength. I gasp, caught off guard, my hands instinctively clutching his shoulders.

“I got the part! They just told me! I’m going to be the Falcon, (Y/N)!” he exclaims, his voice a mix of disbelief and euphoria, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“Wait, what?” I blink, trying to process what he’s just said. My eyes widen as his words sink in. “You got it?! Shut up!”

“I got it, baby!” he shouts again, his joy utterly infectious. A laugh bursts out of me—a mixture of relief, pride, and sheer happiness—as I wrap my legs around his waist. I pull his face down to mine, capturing his lips in a quick, jubilant kiss.

“I knew it! I told you you’d get it!” I whisper breathlessly against his lips, my fingers running through his hair. “There’s no one better for the role than you. You have no idea how proud I am of you.”

He grins so wide it lights up his entire face, his eyes glistening with emotion. He presses his forehead against mine, letting out a shaky breath before leaving a tender kiss on the tip of my nose.

“I still can’t believe it,” he says, his voice softer now, as if speaking any louder would shatter the moment. “This is such a big deal. I have to call Mom, Glen, Paola...” He starts listing names, his excitement bubbling over.

“Do you want to make a list?” I tease, a laugh escaping me as I watch him roll his eyes playfully, still wearing that incredible smile. “Call them. They’ll be over the moon.”

“Yeah, I’m going to do that. I can’t wait to see Glenn’s reaction.” He chuckles, heading towards the door but stops mid-step, spinning around again.

“Oh, and Sam wants to celebrate tonight with some of the team. Maybe go out for drinks or dinner. You’ll come, right?”

“Absolutely,” I reply, my smile mirroring his. “I should be done with work in a couple of hours, and then I’m all yours.”

“Okay.” He smiles again and as he reaches the door; his body turns around and walks back to where I still stand, wrapping his arms around me one more time. His voice softens, “Thank you for being my rock through all of this. I really appreciate all your support.”

I hug him tightly, feeling the warmth of his words. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Te amo (I love you)."

“Yo también te amo (I love you too),” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

He finally leaves to go tell the others, and I watch him go with my heart still full of excitement for what this meant for him.

[freyyzu]

WARM

a/n; it’s been getting really chilly here lately which means it’s the perfect time for comfort fics. i’ve been getting back into obey me lately so i wanted to try my hand at writing for the boys a bit. any constructive criticism is welcomed :>

► Winter in the Devildom was chillier than what you're used to in the Human realm. What you had grown accustomed to as cool suddenly dips further in temperature into cold. Your breath comes out as puffs of white, and your hands redden at the fingertips.

Lucifer dotes on you just a bit more than usual, making sure your room is warm at all times. It never drops below a certain temperature, and even when you tell him that you're perfectly fine, he insists. Nights are a bit too warm for your liking, but you don't have the heart to tell him otherwise — and it's perfect for anyone else who decides to sneak under your bedsheets at night.

That someone just so happens to be Mammon, who finds your body heat even more comforting than usual. "How are ya' still so warm? I'm freezin' my ass off here." With the way his hands crawl up the backside of your shirt and legs tangling with one another you can tell he's lying, but there's no way you're going to tell him to let go even if you were burning up under your sheets.

Levi makes it a point to sit as close as sociably possible next to you whenever you come over to play games. There's one blanket thrown over both of your shoulders, and you coolly let him lie when he tells you it's his only one. Your shoulders aren't quite touching just yet, but whenever you win and throw your arms around him in a victory hug you could've sworn his ears started shooting out steam.

Thankfully, Satan's favorite place to read, other than his chambers, contains a fireplace that burns brightly enough to warm up the entire room. You take quick notice of the way he glances at you from time to time, unable to focus on his own book, and so you relent and ask him to move over to make some space for you. "Well, if you're really that cold I suppose we could just read this one together." You don’t comment on how quickly his arm moves to wrap around your shoulder.

Warm baths have always been a staple of Asmo's daily routine, and now they're going to become a staple of yours for at least the next couple of months. Scented candles, bath bombs, and the gentle caress of his hands helping you wash was more than you bargained for, but not at all unwelcomed. You can say with confidence when it's done that not only are you thoroughly flushed, but all the stress from the day has simply washed away.

The only time Beel decides that it's worth saving snacks is for you. As soon as you walk into the kitchen there's three cups of hot cocoa — one comically larger than the other two — waiting for you. "Ah, I was gonna invite you to the attic with Belphie and I, but since you're here let's go together!" And even though you're sure to find it harder to sleep after this, you just can't deny him when he looks at you with such an expectant expression.

Belphie's favorite resting spot has always been (and will continue to be) your thighs, and the further the temperature dips the more he's determined to make it known. He shifts once, hair tickling your legs, and lets out a pleased hum as your hands rake through his locks down to his cheeks. "Keep it there," he mumbles, reaching up to press your palm closer before finally falling dozing off. Your legs are sure to go numb after this, but it’s worth it to see him so content.

► Winter in the Devildom, while chillier than what you're used to compared to the Human realm, has also never been warmer.

[fushiguroll]

"WHY ARE YOU STILL UP?”

⇢ oikawa toru, sugawara koshi, miya atsumu, kageyama tobio

synopsis: the one in which he reacts to you sleeping late 

ʚɞ OIKAWA Toru | the light peeking from the living room landed perfectly on oikawa toru’s sleeping face. “y/n,” he mumbles with the slightest of groans, “the light, the light, its in my eyes.” even in his sleep, oikawa can’t quite escape the dramatics. “y/n?” at your lack of reply, the sleepy brunette finally opens his eyes to find the empty space where your body should’ve been. he sighs and crawls out of bed, arms crossed, leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, watching you bite your lips in anticipation at the screen in front. “princess.” the sudden intrusion of his exasperated voice had you jumping slightly. “toru! why are you standing there at 2 am?” oikawa walks in front of the TV, hands placed on his hips like an angry mother. “me?! what about you?! what are you doing up at 2 am? I woke up because of you!” you look at him with confusion, “why? the volume is turned down so low...” oikawa shakes his head angrily. he’s always been so stingy about getting at least eight hours of uninterrupted beauty sleep. “the lights, y/n! now, can you please get your butt to bed?” “but, I got one more epi-” “no.” he strolls over and in one swift motion, turns off the tv. “I need my beauty sleep,” he glances towards you,  “and evidently, you need some too.” “hey! that’s mean!” he ignores your pouts, walking back into the bedroom leaving behind a thinly veiled threat, “you better hurry, or no cuddles and I mean it.” “fine, I'm coming.”

ʚɞ SUGAWARA Koshi | suga is a classified class A clinger when he sleeps. and after two years of marriage, he’s grown accustomed to cuddling you, holding you close long after he’s fallen asleep. so when you replace yourself with a body pillow, suga immediately wakes up. “where are you going?” he asks. “I’m just gonna go check my emails real quick, see if there’s any emergency from work. I'll be right back, babe.” “okay,” he murmurs before closing his eyes. an hour later, suga wakes up again to an empty bed and glances at the clock flashing 3:14 am. “y/n?” “I'll be right in.” he rolls out of bed, not believing your words. you said you’ll be right back an hour ago. he might just be a little dramatic, but he’d rather not sleep than to spend another hour without you. he plops down right next to you, arms circling your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “ko, I said I'll be right in.” “okay,” he murmurs sleepily. “go in first.” “no, if you’re gonna stay up late, then I'm gonna stay up with you.” you smile as suga tightens his grip on you, head feeling heavier as he drifts back to sleep, still tightly clinging to you. The two of you eventually fall asleep on the couch and when the morning sunlight pour through the blinds a few hours later, your husband stayed in the same position, cuddling you like usual. 

ʚɞ MIYA Atsumu | he is oddly very warm tonight. in fact, a little too warm before he realizes the blanket is draped across his body. what a rare circumstance to be in. where were you, his little blanket hogger? it’s not every night atsumu can stay warm, having grown accustomed to fighting you for the blanket at least twice every night. The faux blonde goes out looking for you, only to find you scrolling through your phone, laughing silently to yourself.“ya gotta stop watching TikTok til the wee hours of the morning.” he rolls his eyes when you dramatically clutch the phone to your chest, “tsumu, you scared me!” he walks over to you, asking you to scoot over with his butt. “get your big butt outta my face,” you complain as he forces you to move closer to the armrest. “let me rephrase, ya gotta stop watching TikTok til the wee hours of the morning without me.” you laugh as he grabs your phone from you. “what’s got you laughing like that earlier?” atsumu smiles when you excitedly point to the dog on screen. truth be told, miya atsumu loves his sleep, but he's come to learn, love sometimes comes in the form of TikTok at 4 am on a Monday morning.

ʚɞ KAGEYAMA Tobio | kageyama is a deep sleeper, once he’s asleep, he’s out like a light. The only exception to stir him from his deep slumber is his alarm clock or the need to use the restroom. tonight, it was the latter. Kageyama wakes up annoyed, having to go use the toilet when he made sure to go before he went to bed. guess he drank too much water earlier. as quietly as possible, Kageyama tries to get out of the bed only to find you missing from his side.“y/n?” he walks out into the living room, letting out a little yelp when he sees you sitting in the dark. “tobio? what are you doing up?” “me? I need to use the bathroom. what about you? why are you just sitting there in the dark?” “I'm not, I'm watching anime.” you point to the bright screen of your laptop, “see?” your husband shields his eyes from the sudden brightness, “okay, okay, turn it off, you’re blinding me.” “you’re so dramatic.” he glares at you before heading to the restroom, “you better be in bed when I come out.” “fine, I was gonna go sleep anyways.” “sure, you were.” A few minutes later, he joins you in bed, an arm automatically finding its way around your waist. “don't stay up so late,” he murmurs against your hair. “no promises, but I’ve always known you cared about me.” “why’d you think I married you?” “my charms?” “please go to sleep.”

reblogs are wildly appreciated <3

main masterlist | haikyū masterlist

[sirenfromthelostcity]

History (Damian Wayne x Scarlet Witch Reader)

A/N: This is still part of my Movie Night series but it’s just a lil blurb I though of. This also might be the shortest thing I’ve written on here and the fluffiest. I was feeling really uncreative with the title but honestly I’m just glad I was able to write something and I only hope you guys enjoy it! Please do let me know if you do, don’t be shy! And so here you go and I hope you have the loveliest of days! <3 

Details: In a nutshell, the first time Damian tells you he loves you ^^

Words: 800

The first time Damian Wayne met the Titans, it wasn’t under the best or most willing circumstances.  

“I don’t need to be in a team. I work perfectly fine on my own,” he complained.

“That’s the problem,” Dick simpered as he drove them to the tower.

“Being competent as an individual is a problem now?”

“No one said anything about your competency, Damian. We know you can handle yourself, Bruce would never let you be Robin if that weren’t the case but you can’t take on everything by yourself. Eventually you’ll need some help.”

“And these teenagers are supposed to provide that?” he spat.

“Okay, one,” he side-eyed him, he was getting quite tired of his attitude, “they’re around the same age as you and two, you’re a teen who dresses up as a traffic light who helps a grown man who dresses up as a bat to fight crime.”

“... You’re the one who picked out the colors,” he grumbled.

“And I looked great when wearing them.” 

Damian tutted and crossed his arms. “Whatever. Teammates are a liability. They’ll just get in the way.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Look, just try to keep an open mind to this. Who knows, maybe you’ll actually make a friend there.”

“Unlikely,” he muttered indignantly.

He remembers the exact moment he first laid eyes on (Y/N). He was being greeted by the other half of the Titans when he saw her and Beast Boy fly from the rooftop to the ground to greet him. 

He was very interested by the red energy radiating from her hands, he had never seen anything like that before. From the unsteadiness of her landing he was able to tell she was still getting accustomed to her abilities. Somehow, despite the wobbliness of it he still found her graceful. Upon finally locking eyes she gave him a friendly smile but he simply looked away. 

Never would he have imagined how important these people would become to him. Nor the bonds he would create with them or how fervently and unequivocally in love he’d become with (Y/N) (L/N).

To his credit, he came to the realization a lot quicker compared to how long it took him to recognize his feelings for her in the first place. It happened at night when they were getting ready to sleep after a particularly tedious mission. 

It wasn’t unusual for the pair to sleep over the other’s room, in fact their sleepovers had only become more frequent since they’ve kissed, and on this night it was Damian who came into (Y/N)’s room. They were all cozied up in bed, (Y/N)’s back against Damian’s chest while his arm was wrapped securely around her waist. He breathed in the soft scent of her shampoo and contentedly sighed as he watched her play with his outstretched hand. 

“Your hands are so pretty,” she mused.

“I much prefer yours,” he lightly chuckled at her random remark. “Mine are far too rough.” 

“I like rough,” she said in a suave tone as she traced the veins on his hands. “And I like you. A lot.”

“I like you more,” he kissed the back of her head and snuggled her tighter. “So much more, beloved.”  

She couldn’t see but Damian couldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t a night unlike any other but this was his favorite night time ritual. (Y/N) in his arms, safe, content, and relaxed. She meant everything to him and normally this would scare him but with her he felt safe. And so he knew. And he wanted her to know too.

“(Y/N),” he started and she turned her head to look at him, “I need to tell you something.”

“I suspected so, my head has become too heavy and caused your arm to fall asleep,” she sat up to rearrange herself but he sat up with her and halted her movements.

“No, it’s not that at all.” 

“Oh. Then what is it you need to tell me?”

Damian gazed into her inquisitive eyes and gently cupped her cheek before leaning in and kissing her. It was soft yet it became more ardent as he laid her down and peppered her neck, temple, and cheeks with kisses.

“I… love… you..” he whispered in between kisses. 

“What?” she asked hazily. 

“I love you,” he repeated more clearly before kissing her again. “You don’t have to say it back just because-”

“But I do too, love you I mean,” she smiled as she caressed his cheek. “I love you Damian.”

Damian's lips curled into a lovesick grin upon hearing those sweet words escape her lips. Her hand slipped behind his neck, ushering him to kiss her again and he happily obliged.

Taglist: @trashmouthsahra​

[ljxlj48]

[17:40] You were always the child that had to settle. To settle on having hand-me-downs, to settle on not getting anything new, to settle on getting whatever was left. Your family wasn’t poor, you were very comfortable, but you were the youngest child. Your parents didn’t see the need in buying you anything new when your siblings' stuff was in perfectly fine condition. Perfectly fine, meaning it was still functioning. But you didn’t complain, you had grown quite accustomed to settling.

That was until you met, Kun. There was nothing you couldn’t have. Kun wanted to give you the world by any means, and he would. If you looked at a clothing piece for a second too long, Kun was already pulling out his card. If you struggled between two options on the dinner menu, Kun would just order both. If you even mentioned wanting something Kun would order it. There was literally nothing you couldn’t have, you didn’t even need to ask.

So when it came to your guys wedding, Kun gave you no budget. He agreed to pay for everything for the wedding. Kun’s parents wanted to splurge on their only child’s wedding, so they assured you, that you guys could have whatever you wanted. So you didn’t hold back, this was gonna be your day, your one day that you wouldn’t settle.

When your mom flew in to help you overlook some of the arrangements, she was absolutely flabbergasted. Your mom saw nothing but money down the drain, spent on useless things. You tried your best to ignore all her little comments.

That was until you guys went to one of your dress fittings. You had picked out your dress with Kun, and some of your friends. None of your family was there, when you picked it out, but you wanted your mom to see it. So you brought her, Kun, and Kun’s mother along to one of your dress fittings for them to see it.

You tried it on, and the dress had been customized several times over for it to be to your liking. Kun’s mother insisted that you make whatever changes necessary for it to be perfect, she promised you that you could have it all. You were so grateful to her, that you were gonna be able to have the perfect dress.

You walked out of the dressing room, to stand in front of them. The look on your mother’s face broke your heart, she seemed so angry with you.

“(y/n),” her voice took the scolding tone, it was cold, firm, angry, “how much is this? I did not raise you to be the type of person to spend money frivolously. This is ridiculous, you don’t need all of this. You’re just spending money like it grows on trees, you should be ashamed of yourself, considering this isn’t even your money.”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes and roll down your face, you hung your head, not even having the courage to look at your mother or answer her.

“They can have whatever they want,” Kun spoke up, his voice took on a terrifying tone. A tone that you knew he was angry.

“Excuse me?” your mother asked, now turning to look at Kun. “I appreciate everything you have done for (y/n), but they don’t need all of this. This is just ridiculous.”

“(y/n) can have whatever they want, this is their wedding, and the last I check you weren’t paying for it.” Kun spat back at your mother.

“Kun it’s really fine, I’m okay,” you spoke up quickly, knowing that Kun wasn’t going to back down, since it was you.

Kun’s mother stood, from her seat pushing past your own mother to come up to you, “are you okay my dear?” you just nodded your head, not trusting your voice to convince her. She smiled sweetly at you, before turning back to your mother, “I think you should leave now.”

“I am not leaving this is my child, and they aren’t going to waste anyone’s money on that ugly dress.”

“Like my son said, (y/n) can have whatever they want,” Kun’s mother pulled out her wallet, grabbing the card out, handing it to the girl that was helping you guys, “charge it now, the full price, everything.” Your mother couldn’t contain the shock on her face, “I think you should leave now,” Kun’s mother said once again.

After changing out of the dress, you apologized to Kun’s mother for your moms behavior. You told her that you didn’t need the dress, and you would pay Kun’s mother back for everything, that she didn’t need to spend anymore money on you.

“Sweetheart,” Kun’s mother spoke coming up to you, “when I got married, I spent a total of $25,000 on my dress. Your dress isn’t even worth half of that yet, trust me, it’s more fine that I buy this for you.”

You wanted to cry about how lucky you have been to meet Kun, to be apart of this family, to have his love. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to settle my love,” Kun spoke softly to you, wiping away the stray tears.

——————————

In honor of reaching 500 followers, thank you to everyone who continues to read my work <3

[mysticmousecat]

Something New - Part 4 - Viktor x F!Reader (NSFW)

It feels good to sin again

Rating: Explicit

Words: 6k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Unprotected sex

Synopsis: Jayce let's Viktor in on a few secrets and Viktor decides to do something about it

Author's Notes: I rewrote this chapter no less than 4 times so I hope you guys like it. Its basically just an excuse to write a really long really explicit sex scene to finish out this fic. Enjoy!

Viktor watched as you walked away, his gaze perhaps lingering a little too long on the curve of your back, the tired slope of your shoulders, cascading down the length of your legs exposed by your short sleep shorts. Thoughts filled his mind of what could have been happening before he arrived, what you had been letting Jayce do to you. Had you let him touch you, caress you, surely something along those lines. His mind was invaded by images of his partner, practically his brother, laying his best friend down, fucking her the way Viktor knew he’d more than likely never be able to. Viktor felt the familiar burn of jealously in his throat, a feeling he’d grown accustomed to over the years, each time you’d take a new lover, the ache in his chest at the sight of you in another’s arms had become a familiar companion. He’d never thought he’d have that feeling because of Jayce though, he thought Jayce would have the decency to know what was off limits, especially considering the man was sure to be aware of Viktor’s own feelings toward you. The burn of jealously soon turned into the burn of anger, he felt the ache in his jaw from clenching it too hard as he watched you turn the corner, in the direction of your own apartment.

“Viktor?” Viktor was pulled from his thoughts at Jayce’s voice, who was still leaning against his door frame, waiting for Viktor to enter his home. Viktor was half tempted to turn around and leave, go back to his room and spend the night alone, as he typically did, but he also had the sense to know when he was being unreasonable. He hadn’t even asked Jayce about it, if he threw a tantrum at the thought of Jayce sleeping with you, he’d be no better than a spoiled child. So instead, he simply walked past Jayce, into his apartment.

Viktor had been in Jayce’s apartment hundreds of times, sometimes for days at a time, it was familiar, but right now it seemed so foreign, the thoughts of you being in here, of being held by Jayce, of being touched by him, fucked by him, perhaps on the couch next to where Viktor stood, or maybe the bedroom, which he had easy view of, or if you two were particularly adventurous, perhaps the kitchen table. Did Mel know? Did she join in? Were you engaging in a throuple? The burn was back, and Viktor shut his eyes to steel himself. ‘Don’t be a child’ he repeated to himself, like a mantra.

“Viktor, you okay?” Jayce’s voice once again broke him of Viktor’s train of thought, instead turning to meet the eyes of his partner, who looked concerned, but there was something else in his eyes, something Viktor could only akin to... amusement. Why would Jayce be so amused at Viktor’s obvious distress? That’s exactly what it was. Viktor was well aware he was not being subtle, and Jayce knew him too well.

“Perfectly fine,” Viktor said curtly before turning his attention to the black board Jayce kept in his living room. “Shall we get to work?” Without waiting for Jayce’s response, Viktor made his way over to the stack of books and research papers sat precariously on the small table near the black board, one wrong move and they’d come tumbling down.

“You just seem... bothered.” Jayce continued. Viktor didn’t look up as he skimmed through the notes on the table, looking for where he’d left off last time he was here.

“I’m not bothered at all.”

“Really?”

“Truly.” Jayce just hummed as Viktor finally found his place, looking up at the board to match his notes. He could hear Jayce moving around the room, settling somewhere directly behind him.

“So, you’re going to sit there and tell me,” Jayce started, a certain lilt in his voice. “That seeing (y/n) leave here in such a state had no effect on you?” Viktor swallowed hard, hand gripping his pen so hard he was concerned he’d snap it in half. What was Jayce playing at?

“(y/n) is a grown woman and the two of you are consenting adults, it is no business of mine who’s bed she occupies,” Viktor spoke. His voice was clinical, nearly robotic as he said the words, using every ounce of his will power to maintain his composure. “I just hope Mel is aware of your... activities.” Jayce as silent for a moment, and Viktor was about to go back to his work.

“You’ve gotten very good at pretending you don’t care.” Jayce’s voice cut Viktor’s concentration like a cord.

“Because” Viktor said, possibly more aggressively than needed. “I don-”

“(y/n) and I aren’t sleeping together.” Jayce interrupted him; Viktor’s entire being came to a complete stop. What?

“Then what wa-”

“A cleverly constructed, and quite masterfully executed if I do say so myself, rouse.” Viktor stood shell shocked, finally turning to stare at his friend, mind having difficulty making sense of what he was hearing. “I wanted you to think I was sleeping with (y/n), and from the way you’re looking at me right now, it seems I did a pretty damn good job.”

Viktor was speechless for a moment, searching Jayce’s face for any sign that the other man may be lying. “Why?” Was all he asked.

“Why did I spend two weeks making you believe I was fucking your best friend?” Jayce clarified on Viktor’s behalf, Jayce’s words putting an uncomfortable rock in Viktor’s chest. “It’s pretty simple actually.”

“Then explain, Jayce.” Viktor felt the fire of irritation stir in him. Jayce purposely put Viktor through weeks of torture, making him believe he was fucking you, taking you to bed and then flaunting it in front of the man he knew was in love with you. Jayce’s features softened at Viktor’s words, a more serious tone taking over him.

“Viktor,” Jayce started. “We need to talk about Angela.”

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

You didn’t go to bed after running into Viktor, you didn’t even go to your apartment. Instead, you found yourself wandering the halls of the academy, to which the night security has become all too accustomed to seeing you do. You pulled your cardigan tighter around you as you walked, occasionally turning to look out at the Piltovian landscape outside the windows. On nights like this, when you found yourself at the academy instead of your home, walking aimlessly until you eventually wore yourself out enough to sleep, you rarely ran into anyone else. Maybe a guard or two, who usually waved you off or gave you a short greeting before continuing their rounds, but rarely anyone else. It was nice. It was quiet and allowed you time to think, especially on particularly stressful nights. However, thinking was the last thing you wanted to be doing tonight. It seemed every time you blinked you were assaulted with images of Viktor with Angela, his hands on her, or maybe his lips on her neck, a touch so sinful but so gentle. It didn’t take you long to realize that this particular visit to the academy was going to be less than fruitful, but you were hesitant to go back to your apartment, where you knew it would be cold and empty, silent, at least here you occasionally saw another human.

Eventually though you did decide to go home. You were thankful there were no classes tomorrow, what little sleep you got tonight you hoped lasted into the late morning, lasted until the morning sunlight chased away the cold and the dark. You took the stairs as opposed to the elevator, maybe a little more walking would make you sleep, so you didn’t have to remain trapped inside your own mind again. You were sufficiently winded when you reached your floor, the chilled Piltovian air welcome against your heated skin. The hall to your door was hardly lit, most people expected to be asleep at this hour instead of traversing the halls in a heartache driven haze.

Your key slipped easily into your lock as you turned the handle, greeted by the light squeak of your door on its hinges. You didn’t bother turning on your lights, instead allowing what little moonlight filtered in through your windows to guide your way. You were tempted to make a cup of tea before bed, maybe it would settle your mind, as you were contemplating you actions you nearly jumped out of your skin at the voice that broke the silence.

“Took the scenic route, hm?” You spun on your heals, hand flying to clutch at your chest as you gazed into the darkness before you, eyes just barely managing to make out the silhouette of a man on your couch, he was a very familiar silhouette, tall, thin and lean, hair just a little too unkempt to be tidy, you couldn’t entirely make out his face, but you didn’t need to. Once you’d caught your breath, you finally found your words.

“Thought you would still be with Jayce, working the night away.” You said as you turned once again to make your way toward your kitchen. Now you were absolutely making tea. From across the room, you heard Viktor stand, the sound of his cane tapping the floor as he approached the kitchen. Despite the anxiety he gave you, the way he made your heart race, he also soothed you, knowing he was here and not with Angela.

“I tried to get some work done but found myself unable to focus.” Viktor explained as you started heating some water in a kettle on the stove. “I wanted to come see you.” You felt your heart pounding in your chest, an involuntary smile finding its way onto your lips at his words, then you felt the sickly-sweet feeling in your stomach, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them.

“Angela unavailable?” You heard the venom in your voice, despite how hard you tried to keep it at bay. It was quiet for a moment, and you thought that Viktor may not answer you. You heard the tap of his cane again, it was approaching you again, a hand finding your wrist, making you turn to face him before you were pulled into a hug. One that, while certainly accepted, confused you. Despite your confusion, you found yourself wrapping your arms around him, pulling him ever so much closer. His scent was so familiar, smoke and coffee with something you couldn’t pinpoint but was so undeniably Viktor, it made you lightheaded in the best of ways, made you want to hold him and never let him go. You buried your head in his chest easily.

“I am not interested in Angela.” Viktor said into your ear as he pressed himself closer to you. “She is a colleague, nothing more.” You didn’t say anything, just nestled deeper against him, kettle on the stove forgotten until the shrill scream of steam startled you away from him. You were quick to pull it from the burner, turning the stove off and resting your hands on the edge of the counter, hesitating to turn to face Viktor again.

“Jayce told you, didn’t he?” You spilled into the silence. You felt the tears creeping up on you, swallowing it hard as you waited for Viktor’s answer, still refusing to face him.

“Perhaps,” Viktor supplied. “What would he have told me, (y/n)?” He was trying to make you say it, say the words you’d told to everyone except the one person they pertained to. Finally, you turned, coming to face the man who was managing to break you down without even touching you. You tried to make out his face in the darkness, his golden eyes, his sharp features. He was perfectly silhouetted by the window behind him, he was beautiful. The words were crawling up your throat, but no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t say them, you were lost.

“I-“ You choked, closing your eyes before speaking again. “I don’t know how to do this, Viktor.” You confessed. Viktor was quiet, as if he were contemplating your words. Finally, as he started to approach you again, he spoke.

“Would you like me to start?” He asked, you just stared at him. “I am not blind, (y/n), I could see Angela’s… Interest.” Viktor started once he effectively had you crowded against your kitchen counter, hands on either side of your torso, gripping onto the edge. “And when she eventually offered me her bed,” You felt a tear fall down your cheek as you tried your hardest to find Viktor’s eyes in the darkness. “I almost accepted.”

“Why didn’t you?” You found yourself asking.

“Because she is not the woman I want,” His voice was whispered, like he was afraid if he spoke too loudly, he’d spook you. “I could never love her, because I’m already in love with someone else.” He stepped just a little bit closer, so close you could feel his breath on your skin, his body heat so close, you were tempted to reach out and touch, tangle you fingers in the fabric of his vest, you restrained yourself. “So, I’ll ask again. What would Jayce have told me?” This time, when the words crawled up your throat, they were unhindered. They fell from your lips easily, albeit whispered, barely a breath.

“I love you.” You finally said, and you felt heat burst through your chest, through your veins like hot magma, gripping the countertop behind you in an effort to maintain your composure. Viktor was quiet for only a moment before he spoke again.

“Was that so hard?” You wanted to retort, to snap at him and tell him that yes, it had indeed been that hard, but you didn’t get the chance before you felt his lips press to yours, a kiss that all in all was chaste, but left you breathless. Even when Viktor pulled away, he didn’t stray far, close enough for his lips to barely graze your own as he spoke. “I love you; I have always loved you and I always will… If you’ll have me.” If you’ll have him? As if you’d have anyone else. This time when you kissed him you didn’t hold back, allowing your hand to find his vest and pull him closer, the kiss was hungry, desperate, and eager. Viktor’s hands went from the countertop to your waist to your hips as he pulled you flush against him as he moved to deepen the kiss, the first touch of his tongue to yours sent sparks up your spine and put heat in your abdomen. He kissed you like a man deprived of water and you were the spring that saved his life. Your hands found his hair, tangling in it and pulling, just enough to draw that same sound you’d heard before, the one that made you squeeze your thighs together. You pulled away from him, taking a moment to catch your breath.

“Let’s go.” You said as you took his hand, beginning to lead him out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” He asked, though he followed you none the less.

You turned to face him again, this time able to see his face as the moonlight illuminated his features. You pulled him closer to you, placing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Bedroom.” Was all you said, and you swear you could hear the stall out in his brain as he caught up to where you were leading him. You suddenly felt shy. “Only if you want to of course.”

The words had barely left you before his mouth covered yours again, his kiss desperate and demanding as his hands came up to cradle your face. The two of you stumbled into your bedroom, barely having the thought to kick the door shut before you pushed Viktor to sit on your bed, crawling over him to straddle his hips, tangling your fingers into his hair as you reconnected your lips. How did you live without this for so long, live without knowing what he tasted like? You let him pull off your cardigan, tossing it somewhere in the darkness of the room, his hands finding your bare shoulders, gliding his fingertips down your arms before traveling back up again, only for him to glide his hands down your back, finding purchase on your hips, pulling you closer, hissing into the kiss when you ground down on his growing erection. You broke the kiss, instead opting to kiss down his throat, paying special attention to his pulse point, where you felt his heart pounding.

Your fingers found the buttons of his vest, taking special care when undoing them, pulling the fabric from his shoulders easily, allowing it to join your cardigan on the floor before moving to his tie, which found itself on the floor as well shortly after. You rolled your hips into his again, moaning into his mouth when you reconnected your lips. You practically ripped open his dress shirt to get at his skin, leaving the garment on him but open, dragging your fingers down his now bare chest, stopping only when you reached his belt. You knew what you wanted, you wanted to make this man fall apart, worship his body until he was shaking, trembling under your touch, you wanted to hear every sound he could make. Without a word you separated your lips again, moving from his lap so he could move further up the bed, laying against your headboard as you crawled up to join him, settling easily between his legs. You placed a searing kiss to his collar bone, nipping at the skin there lightly before traveling south, leaving marks and kisses down his chest, pulling contented sighs from him above you, one of his hands finding its way into your hair, tugging just enough to pull the slightest moan from your throat.

“I never considered you’d like your hair pulled.” Viktor said breathily as you continued your descent down his torso until you finally reached the waistband of his pants where you stopped to look up at him. His eyes were full of want and lust, much like you imagined yours were too.

“Says you.” You said, as you got to work ridding him of his belt. “Do you have any idea what you did to me that day in the lab?” You asked, popping the button of his pants open, Viktor lifted his hips ever so slightly to help you pull them down, hearing his contented sigh when you finally freed his cock. You stared at him for a moment, heat pooling in your belly at the sheer size of him. Had you known he was this big before, you were sure you would have offered to go to bed with him much sooner. Your eyes found his again as your fingers wrapped around his base, pulling a hiss from his lips. “I nearly dropped to my knees right there, and I would have, had I known you wanted me to.” With that you set to work, licking a long strip from his base to his tip and you heard the back of his head collide with the wooden headboard of your bed.

“I would not have lasted long had you done that.” His hand tightened in your hair, like he was holding himself back from shoving his cock down your throat. An idea to explore later. You placed a chaste kiss to his tip before wrapping your lips around it, flattening your tongue to it before taking more. Realistically you could only fit about half of him in your mouth before you would gag, but you made up for what you couldn’t fit with your hand, pumping him in tune with the bobbing of your head. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked hard, savoring the sweet gasp he let out above you as his hand tightened further, pulling your hair roughly. You moaned on his cock, which in turn only egged him on. You could feel his self-restrain, trying hard not to thrust into your mouth, you mentally thanked him for his self-control. You sped up your pace, taking him a little deeper on every downward stroke before you reached your limit. Some time you wanted to do this until he came, wanted to beg him to cum in your mouth, taste him, pull him apart completely with your tongue, but for tonight, you needed to keep yourself under control, you didn’t want this ending too soon.

He was getting close, you could feel it in the way he gripped you, the way his breathing came out ragged above you and his hips twitched the barest amount forward. You pulled your mouth off of him, though continued to pump him with your hand as you flattened your tongue against his tip, tasting the precum there. You moaned at the taste, the wetness between your legs growing, and the need to have him inside of you overwhelming. You pulled your hand away from him, much to his disappointment before climbing your way back up him again, once again straddling his hips as you kissed him. His tongue tangled with yours almost immediately as his hands shot under your shirt, wasting no time in hiking it over your arms and off of you, tossing it half hazardly across the room before his mouth moved from your lips to your neck, his hands on your bare waist pulling your flush against him, the bare skin of his chest pressing against your own. He kissed his way down your throat, nipping at the skin between your neck and shoulder, pulling a hushed gasp form your lips.

“You know,” Viktor started as he kissed your skin, hands moving from your waist to your chest, his callused fingers grazing over your nipples, the softest moan falling from your lips as you pressed into his touch. “Every time you wear one of those damn skirts into the lab, it takes every ounce of my self-control not to slip my hand underneath.” You moaned at the thought of it, being in the lab, a work environment while Viktor comes up to you, his hand finding its way between your legs. At his confession one of his hands abandoned your chest, choosing instead to glide down your stomach to the waistband of your shorts. He seemed to linger there, fingers playing with the fabric, not quite dipping underneath. “And had I known you would have let me,” Viktor purred in your ear. “I would have made sure you never had to worry about Angela.” You let out a shaky breath as he finally delved past the waistband, his fingers grazing over your core, only separated by the fabric of your underwear. You couldn’t help the way your hips thrust forward slightly, seeking more of his touch. Viktor let out a heavy breath at how wet he could feel you were, choosing to press tight circles over your covered clit, pulling a strangled moan from your lips.

“Viktor-“ You choked out, suddenly feeling shy despite the fact that not five minutes ago you had your mouth on his cock, which you could still feel, hot and heavy against the skin of your thigh.

“Tell me,” Viktor started, his pace was even, unhurried as he worked to pull every gasp and moan from your lips, but never going to pull the fabric of your underwear aside to really touch you. “Do you get this wet for me often?” He asked, punctuating the question by slipping his fingers down, pressing up into where he knew your entrance was, pushing in as far as your underwear would allow his fingers. He halted, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts, finding a moment of clarity to answer.

“Yes.” You breathed into his ear, feeling the way his other hand gripped your hip tight. “Every time you touch me, sometimes,” You gasped as he moved back to your clit, pressing a little harder to pull the whine from you. “Sometimes, just hearing your voice is enough to have me soaked.” You confessed. Had you been more lucid you’re sure you would have been embarrassed at admitting something like that, but right now, your only focus was getting him inside of you as fast as possible.

He pulled his hand from you, you were about to complain if he didn’t immediately move to pulling your shorts down your hips, you maneuvered to help get them off of you, the fabric finding itself on the floor with the rest of your clothes, leaving you completely bare to him. Viktor seemed to take a moment just to touch you, glide his hands flat over the outside of your thighs, up over your hips to your waist, then back down again, like he was memorizing the feel of you.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” Viktor whispered into your ear as his hands found the back of your thighs, pulling you forward slightly while also spreading your legs just a little more, the head of his cock just barely grazing your entrance, making you gasp.

“I wish I had noticed your feelings sooner,” You said, pressing a chaste but passionate kiss to his lips. “Wish I had realized my feelings sooner.” You kissed over his jaw, down his neck to his shoulder, pushing the fabric of his shirt aside to place a searing kiss to his clavicle.

“What made you?” Viktor asked breathily into your ear. “Realize your feelings that is.”

“You really want to know?” You asked as you kissed your way back up to just under his ear.

“Yes.”

“I had a sex dream about you.” You said bluntly. “A couple of days after I arrived in Piltover.”

“So, you mean to tell me,” Viktor started as his hand once again found its way between your legs, this time unhindered by the presence of your underwear as he sunk one finger deep into you, making you squeak in surprise at the sudden intrusion, which then turned into a moan as he started thrusting in and out before adding a second finger. “That we could have been doing this,” He punctuated the word with a particularly rough thrust of his fingers, curling them in a come-hither motion, hitting every spot inside you perfectly, as if he’d done it a million times. “Months ago.” You could only respond in a broken moan as you wrapped your arms around his neck as you moved your hips along with his fingers. He should not be this good at taking you apart on your first time together, it wasn’t fair.

“Seems,” You gasped when Viktor added a third finger, expertly stretching your entrance to take him. “Like we have lots of time to make up for.” You felt him smile into your hair as his fingers sped up, hitting your perfect spots dead on every time, pulling you closer and closer to the edge as the movement of your hips became more erratic. You hadn’t even had his cock yet and here you were, desperately trying to get more of his fingers into you, get them deeper as he somehow managed to fuck you so perfectly with just his hand. Viktor had never told you about sexual partners in the letters you would share, but obviously he had them, because these were not the skills of an unexperienced man.

He didn’t slow down even as you teetered on the edge, he let you fall, your first orgasm of the night wracking through you as you clung to him, tangling your fingers in his hair and burying your face in his neck as you muffled a moan against his skin, his fingers didn’t stop until you were reaching down to grab his wrist, stilling him inside of you, allowing you to catch your breath. He placed a kiss into your hair, pulling his fingers out of you and pulling you close, pressing your chest flush against his.

“You cum beautifully.” He said into your ear. You shivered at his words, lifting your head to look him in the eye. When you kissed him, it was slow, passionate and hungry. “I bet it will be even more beautiful when you’re cumming on my cock.” The words alone made you moan. You were on auto pilot as you wrapped your fingers around him, pumping him slowly as you lined him up with your entrance. You both moaned in unison as you sank down onto him, feeling the way he filled you so perfectly, stretched you a little wider than his fingers had, but filled you so much deeper. You felt the breath leave your lungs as you reached his hips. He fit you perfectly, like he was made to be inside you. Once you found your bearings and you’d given him time to adjust to your tightness, you placed your hands on his shoulders, bracing yourself as you placed another kiss to his lips, the kiss devolving into a moan as you lifted yourself almost all the way off of him before dropping back down, gasping at the way his cock forced the air out of your lungs every time you dropped back down onto it. His grip on your hips was brutal, tight enough to leave bruises as he started guiding your movements, thrusting his hips up to meet you halfway, his own gentle gasps and moans buried into your hair as he held you. It wasn’t long before you began to feel the burn in your legs and hips, the position you were in starting to become difficult.

“Wait.” You breathed as you slowed down, catching your breath as Viktor’s fingers grazed up and down your sides. “Lay down.” You ordered, slowly pulling yourself up and off of him, if you weren’t so worked up you may have been more embarrassed over the whine that left you at the loss of him inside of you. Viktor fallowed your command, taking a moment to properly shed his shirt, tossing it to the side as you used his new position to properly get his pants off, tossing them to join the growing pile of clothing. It left him bare to you, his fair skin, pulled tight over his lean body, able to finally see the full augmentation of his leg, gliding your fingertips over the warm metal.

“Can you still feel touch?” You asked, pressing a kiss to the metal of his thigh before once again throwing one of your legs over his waist, getting yourself into position to take him again. His hands once again came to your hips.

“Yes.” He gasped out as you sunk back down onto his cock, taking him faster than you had the first time, letting out a moan of your own at the sudden intrusion. “But it’s different.” You hummed, planting your hands flat on his chest as you began moving your hips again, having much more control of your movements in this position, the painful burn in your hips fading as he thrust up into you, pushing just a little deeper into you than he had the first time. He hit every spot inside you perfectly in this position, pulling desperate whines and moans from your lips on every move. You were approaching your release fast now as you roughly slammed yourself down on his cock over and over. You moved your hands from his chest to the bed on either side of his head, leaning down to connect your lips again, though it was less of a kiss and more just gasping into each other’s space, the occasional press of lips, a graze of tongues as he wrapped his arms around your torso, holding your close as your movements became more erratic, your orgasm rushing up on you as he hit that perfect spot inside of you over and over along with the stimulation to you clit that the position provided.

You found yourself chanting his name like a mantra as you gripped the sheets under your hands so tight you worried they might tear. He thrust up into you roughly, his own movements becoming unsteady and erratic as his own release approached. Before you could register it, your orgasm crashed into you, your body tensing as a wave of pleasure washed over you, pulling a strangled gasp from your lips. Viktor’s rhythm stuttered as you tightened around him, a breathy moan falling from his lips as he pulled your body closer, thrusting up into you a few more times before his own release came, cumming deep inside of you, the feel of his release inside of you pulling another moan from your lips as you buried your face in his neck, his hands moving to stroke soothing circles over your back as the two of you caught your breath.

You pulled yourself up and off of his softening cock, dropping down to lay next to him, letting the thin layer of sweat on your skin cool. Turning onto your side you moved closer to him, laying your head on his chest as his arm came around to pull you into him, fingers grazing over your bare arm as you listened the rapid pace of his heart. It was quiet for a moment while the two of you just laid there, finally processing what had just happened. The realization hit you like a train. Viktor wasn’t interested in Angela, he was interested in you, had always been interested in you and not only did he love you too, but he just gave you the best fuck of your life. You let that sink in for a moment. Your childhood best friend, a man you’ve known for 25 years, and you just had sex with him, and you wanted to do it again.

“You think very loudly.” Viktor’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. He still sounded a little winded and you couldn’t help the little burst of pride and arousal that flowed through you at the fact that you caused him to sound like that. “Care to share with the class?” You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest, then another to his neck.

“Just thinking about how we got here,” You said when Viktor turned to face you, his eyes meeting yours before you pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss.

“I used to think we’d never get here.” He confessed when the two of you parted, his voice was hardly more than a whisper.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” You asked, propping your head up on your hand as you sat up on your elbow, other hand resting on Viktor’s bare chest, tracing random patterns into his skin.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He retorted.

“Touché.” You kissed him again, just a press of lips. “I love you.” You breathed once you’d pulled back.

“I love you, too.” It was silent for a moment before a though came to mind, bringing a smile to you lips. “What?” Viktor asked. It was a smile he knew well, one that he’d seen plenty of times and usually came before you told him of an idea you had. You met his eyes, a mischievous glint in yours.

“What are your thoughts on shower sex?” You asked, already starting to get up. While Viktor watched you slide off the bed, walking over to your ensuite bathroom, turning on the water, he couldn’t help but think that he should really send Jayce a gift basket or something, even if his methods of getting the ball rolling between the two of you had been… eccentric.

[witch-hazels-musings]

I WOKE UP JUST IN TIME AAAAA

Can I request the tall boys (Childe, Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya + anyone else you think you wanna add or change (except maybe Childe because I love him)) reacting to you having animal-like features (like ears and tail)

Or

What they would do if by some accident they themselves end up getting animal features (like fox ears and tail for Childe, cat ears and tail for Kaeya or Diluc, dragon features for Zhongli, etc) do they become clingy and display cat behavior of rubbing themselves on you? Something like that aaaa I'm so sorry if this doesn't make sense it's my first time requesting

experiments gone wrong

(eehe these men *cough* zhongli *cough* will be the death of me) 

Warning -> sfw, fluff (kissing, character suddenly acquiring animal like features) 

Character X GN Reader | anthology 

Includes: Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli 

As an alchemist, you really should have remembered the most important rule -> don’t leave unmarked bottles out where people can drink them …

So you couldn’t be too surprised by the turn of events that followed

Childe 

He went to bed earlier than normal, but you didn’t think anything of it. Perhaps he had a terrible day and just wanted to sleep it off, there wasn’t any reason to pester him about it anyway. 

The next morning, you felt him slip out of bed, a yawn falling from his mouth as he made his way toward the bathroom. Turning, you claimed more of the bed and attempted to sleep just a little bit longer. That was until you heard a wild cry and shot up in an instant. You were already partially out of the bed when Childe burst into the room. 

He looked at you, you looked at him, and as your eyes drifted from his ears to his tail, you understood his reaction. 

“WHAT?” He shouted into the bedroom. 

Oh archons, to see him like this … you wished it was easier for you not to think about how adorable he was, but it was impossible. The soft ears that peeked from underneath his hair, the fluffy tail that didn’t know how to stop moving, and the frantic face he gave you were all just perfect 

“What happened??” He asked, running back to the mirror before returning his attention to you. Quickly, you made your way to his aid and did your best to calm him.

“I’m not sure, did you do anything strange yesterday?” You pulled his face toward you, cupping your hands against his cheek and running your fingers through his hair. 

“Not that I know of … uh, oh! I found this …” He reached for a small bottle on the bathroom counter and handed it to you. Shit.

“Did you drink this??”

“ … yes.” 

“CHILDE!” You burst into laughter, knowing it wasn’t the right time but also unable to control yourself. His expression was distressed and worried and, as best as you could, you tried to bring yourself back to calm. “This wasn’t supposed to be consumed …” 

“A-am I going to die?” 

“No, you’re just going to be, well, this it seems.” 

“How long??” 

“I don’t know, a few days maybe.” He dropped his head into his hands, his ears drooped and his active tail dropped toward the ground. Wrapping him in your arms, you offered him reassurance while trying not to laugh. “You’re very cute though.” 

You caught sight of his tail moving slowly back and forth and added more pressure to your hug. 

He found that it wasn’t as bad as he thought, in addition to the extra features, he also was able to gain other advantages - his eyesight was much better in the dark, his sense of smell more keen, his agility top notch 

You were sure he had grown attached to them in the short time he had them - so when the option came for him to revert, you were sure it would be a tough decision 

Still - to keep him trapped like this, with features that weren’t his own - you didn’t want to be cruel 

“Here,” You put the bottle down in front of him. His ears perking up at the item and his fingers reaching to grab it. “All you have to do is drink that and everything should go back to normal.” You said with a slightly wistful tone to your voice. It was somehow sad to think these adorable additions leave would be gone soon. 

“What if it doesn’t work?” 

“I’m not sure. We will just try again if it doesn’t though.” Quickly, he took the cork from the lid and moved the vial to his lips. His ear twitched as he smelled the concoction. “I’ll miss this.” Resting your head in your hands you watched as he downed the liquid in one go. 

“It’s hard for people to take me seriously like this …”

“Did people take you seriously before?” You joked, winking at him. 

The next morning, he stirred in bed next to you, his hair brushing against your face and making you wake up before you wanted to. As your eyes adjusted, you instantly recognized what you thought was hair was actually ears and the giddiness of your heart jump-started you awake. It didn’t work -- oh no, guess you’d have to keep trying. 

Kaeya 

Waking up next to Kaeya was your favorite thing. It was an opportunity for you to be close to him, to witness his relaxed expression, and know that in these moments he trusted you over anyone else. 

So, when you woke and found him pressed against you, your hands absentmindedly began to run through his hair, over his shoulders, as you meandered your way into the waking world. There was something soft that flicked against your hand, but you pushed it away. It happened again, confused, mouth turning into a scowl and eyes rudely being pried open, you looked down to see what was making you irritated. 

You were wide awake when you saw the cat ears sticking out from Kaeya’s blue hair. They were richly shaded, deep blues with tips of white and perfectly placed on his head. Shifting, you tried to get a better view and the action made him stir. 

“Mmm, stop moving.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around you and holding you steady. Tapping his arm, you tried to get his attention. 

“K-Kaeya …” 

“What is it?” 

“Do you feel okay?” You asked, your voice shaking and hands hovering over his ears. 

“I feel perfectly fine, why do you ask?” He kissed your chest before nuzzling back into his place. 

“You … you’ve got cat ears.”

He laughed and pushed your comment away. His legs moved under the sheets and you swore you saw something poke out from the bed. “You’re pulling my leg, I didn’t know you could be this funny so early in the morning.” 

“I’m not, see.” Stealing his hand you placed it on his head and watched as his fingers ran over the ears which were sticking straight up. When his eyes shot open and his hand began to move faster, pulling, tugging, examining the feature, you tried not to laugh as his confused expression turned into a slight panic. He shot up, his legs moving so he could sit on the bed but winced when he did so. That’s when the both of you saw the tail. 

“Hold on, let me get ready, just … don’t freak out.” 

You rushed around the room to gather up your items, your gaze continuously falling on the incredibly still, unmoving frame that was Kaeya. 

After calling on Albedo to come and offer assistance, only to find that the features would be around for a few days … Kaeya started to get more accustomed to them 

He was for sure rattled but bounced back rather quickly - in fact, the features seemed to get him even more attention than he had before and he found that the added bonuses were helpful when he needed them for his knightly tasks 

Not to mention it seemed he was more affectionate than normal, and not in the way he normally was, it was more in a … cuddly, interested, curious manner 

One evening, you found yourself reading over several books that Albedo had recommended and became rudely distracted when Kaeya pushed his way under your arms and nestled into your lap

“Hey there.” You called down to him, hand dropping to his shoulder as he nuzzled against you. 

“Give me attention.” 

You laughed at his pouting expression, his lips turned downward and ears twisting to show he could be trusted. “I’m currently trying to figure out how to fix this, I can’t do that if I’m giving you all my attention.” His eye squinted for just a moment before he moved more into your lap and nearly pushed the book in your hands onto the floor. “Kaeya!” The playful laughter that filled his ears was as tantalizing as the drinks he let touch his lips. 

“You can figure that out later. How can you possibly resist me right now anyway?” He asked, pushing against you until your back pressed into the couch and his hands weaved their way around your body. His hair tickled your face as he nuzzled into your chest and, even though his hips dug into yours, you didn’t seem to mind the closeness he was trying to find. 

“Okay. Fine, I’ll look into it more later.” 

“What excellent news.” He practically purred as he slid his way to your neck and let his body rest against you.

 Zhongli 

It’s been so long since he saw himself with such features - and, to be honest, he didn’t notice them for some time. It wasn’t until you returned and the items in your hands fell to the floor upon seeing him that his attention was captured

“Zh - Zhongli!?” You babbled, making your way to him and not knowing what to rest your eyes on first. Was it the pair of elegantly shaped horns that sprouted between his brown locks of hair? Was it the golden slits in his eyes that reminded you of the reptiles roaming around the rocky paths of Liyue? Or did you look at the scales that decorated his face in such perfect placement? 

“Has something transpired?” His expression was one of concern, but also one of disillusionment. Did - did he not notice? 

“Are you feeling nostalgic today?” 

“Not particularly, what makes you ask?” 

“Well … you look kinda like … I mean hold on.” You quickly disappeared down the hallway before returning with a small handheld mirror, one that Zhongli had purchased for you some time ago. Handing it to him, you waited until it started to register on his face the changes to his appearance, and that’s when you noticed the long claws which jutted out from his nail beds.  

“Huh, this is peculiar …” 

Sitting down across from him, you placed your hands on the table and watched as he examined the reflection of his face. “So you didn’t do this?”

“I must say that I did not, though It is rather pleasant to see …” His voice trailed off and you watched as he fussed with his hair, touched the horns on his head, and opened his mouth to check and see if - yup, he had canines much like a dragon too. That’s when it hit you. 

“Did you … drink anything strange?” 

The mirror found its place upside down on the table, his glowing eyes shifted to you as he took in your question. You let him think and finally, he gave you his answer. “I do recall there was a strange vial on the counter when I awoke. Ah - my dear, are you unwell?” He asked as your head dropped onto the table. 

The strangest thing about Zhongli holding these features was that he seemed … perfect for them and it was becoming quite the problem to hide

You were much too cautious that someone may discover who he really was with these pretty telling additions to his wardrobe, so you asked him to stay home for a while until you could get some answers

He didn’t seem to mind, and when you were finally able to gather up all the items needed to prepare an antidote for his condition, you were finding it very distracting to make the concoction at home 

The bubbling liquid warned you it was much too hot and so, with adept fingers, you turned the nobs and burners down so as to not overheat or scald the liquid inside. The aroma that filled your nose was … unpleasant to say the least, and so you finally succumbed to the need to wrap your nose in a clean cloth. 

Turning your back to the equipment, you made your way toward the drawer where the rags were kept but when your eyes caught sight of Zhongli standing by the window, you nearly fainted. 

He was wearing a robe, the material had slid down one of his arms and rested in the crook of his elbow. It gave you pause and allowed you to see the toned torso which was normally hidden by the layers of clothing he wore on a regular day. 

Since he found no need to properly get dressed, he had reserved himself to lounge about in clothes that felt ‘more suitable’ to him, as he explained. 

The light from the sun flashed across his chest, laid softly against his face, and illuminated the golden speckles in his hair - you wondered if it was because of the horns, perhaps they were reflecting the light and making him look ethereal in the warmth of the sun. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight as he looked beyond the window, almost as if he was yearning for something far beyond his reach. 

“I think I’m nearly done.” You explain, tying the towel around your face and returning, reluctantly, to the concoction behind you. 

As you began to spoon out the unnecessary ingredients until you were only left with the pure grade potion, you didn’t notice how he had moved to your side until the small vial was filled. 

“Here you -- oh!.” He stood right in front of you. His eyes were dangerous, burning, focused. “I didn’t see … you …” He reached around to the back of your head and skillfully undid the makeshift mask you had created moments ago. When it was off, he took the vial in his hands and placed it onto the counter before returning his attention to you. “Are you … okay?” You asked, tracking the movements of his face as he leaned down toward you. 

His lips hovered barely over yours and the closeness of him made your heart flutter. “You are mine, are you not?” His voice rattled your bones from the intensity, it was oppressive and supportive all at the same time. 

“Y-yes?” 

His lips pressed against the corner of your mouth, “You belong to no one else?” 

“No …”

“Good.” 

It’s a good thing the instructions never said anything about, ‘consume immediately’ because you were very distracted for some time. 

-- 

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[midsizebook]

Satellite

A/N: It's hereee!!! The FINAL chapter is ready for you guys!! I hope it's the ending that you've all wanted and I hope you like it. To everyone who has read and supported this little fic: thank you, thank you, thank you!!! I appreciate your support and encouragement more than I could ever say. Please let me know your thoughts, or if you have any comments or feedback! I always love hearing from you all.

Warnings: some kissing?

---

Chapter 10

Harry reached for the volume knob of his car’s stereo and turned it down as he watched me get into the passenger’s seat with an unabashed grin on his face. “Y’look so pretty tonight.”

“Unlike all the other nights, when I look like a bridge troll.” I deflected, his blunt compliment making my fingers shake as I fastened my seatbelt.

He shook his head, hiding a chuckle. “Ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

The air between us felt electric, though I couldn’t figure out exactly why. Maybe it was Harry’s sudden forwardness, him stealing glances at me whenever he was at a stop sign or traffic light, giggling shyly when our eyes would meet and shrugging and mumbling “nothin’” in response to my “what?” Or maybe it was simply that he’d made a formal invite this time around. The whole thing felt serious and planned. A change from our casual, spur of the moment meet-ups since he’s been back. 

“S-so, where are we going?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“There’s this little Italian place-”

“Is it fancy?”

Harry laughed

“I’m serious! Am I underdressed?”

“You’re perfect….I mean, you look perfect- perfectly fine.”

***

Harry was lying. I could tell, as soon as we’d arrived, that I’d never, in my life, set foot inside an establishment quite like this one. Not that it mattered because I could also tell that the place was positively empty.

“A-are we the only ones in here?”

“Sort of. Yeah.”

“W-what?!!”

“Well, they usually open the kitchen in an hour. So, people will be coming in soon, but I know the owner, and, well…I wanted to talk-”

“What’s all this about, will you tell me already? You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Uhh, I will, I promise, but could we order drinks first?”

The drinks came, and, later, so did the first course, but Harry hadn’t answered my question yet. Instead, we talked about my experience working with him and the cast, perhaps for the first time. I told him about all the things that I found strange, or new, that he’d grown accustomed to and hardly noticed anymore. He expressed to me that he still gets nervous and unsure about acting, in a way that doesn’t happen with music. He’s learned to turn the uncertainty of working on new records into anticipation and excitement, and it certainly showed in his work. Even his most heartbreaking songs always came from a joyous, creative place. He hopes he can one day do that with acting too.

Setting my glass down, I laid my hands out on the table in front of me. “Why are we here, Harry? N-not that I’m not enjoying this because I am; I really am. It’s been a while since we’ve just been able to talk like this, but…Out with it already! Why have you brought me here tonight? Is everything alright? I mean, is it Gemma, is she-”

“No, no, god, no! She’ll all good-”

“Well, then, what is it? Is it work? Did Jeff-”

“No, work is fine. Better than fine, actually. It’s great.” Harry smiled, picking up his drink and taking a big sip. “It’s jus.’ I- uh…” 

I scanned his features closely, attempting to decipher the unreadable expression on his face. His cheeks blushed when he noticed me watching him and he quickly looked away, focusing his gaze downward on the tablecloth. 

“Well, so, it’s been over a month since I’ve been back, and I have been working on things, and-” He paused, apprehensive, and briefly glanced up at me. I gave him a nod of encouragement to keep going. “I really think I’m in a much better place now. Obviously, long term I- I’ve got to be better at- well, you know....” 

I smiled, unsure where he was going with this, but finding his flustered vulnerability quite endearing.

“And I will be! I’ll be better moving forward. But, you leave soon. And, I don’t want to make the same mistakes as last time. I don’t want to regret things.” His eyes finally focused on mine, watching me expectantly. 

My throat felt dry. With a shaky grip, I brought my glass to my lips, sipping on it slowly to buy myself some time. “Harry, what exactly are you saying to me right now?” I couldn’t control the growing smile on my face. “Because I THINK I know what you’re saying, but, I don’t wanna get my hopes up and-”

“I’m saying I want us to be together, Matilda!”  Harry’s smile mirrored mine. A silence fell over our table. He reached across and held my hands in his, squeezing gently. “I’m saying I love you and I want us to be a real thing. No more sleeping together while dating other people, no more running, no more delaying. I’m saying I can’t imagine a life with anyone but you.”

At that moment, I felt dizzy and giddy with joy. I could hardly wrap my mind around it or believe that it was real. Looking back though, I think I couldn’t process what he was saying because it was the first time anyone had ever openly and freely expressed to me how much they valued me. It was, without any exaggeration, a life altering experience. Because that moment was the beginning of the rest of my life.

“Alright…that- that’s what I thought.” I spoke, softly, smiling and tripping over my words.

“Is that a yes?  Are you saying yes to me?” 

I nodded.

Harry half stood up from his chair, leaning in. “May I kiss you?”

I nodded. ***

That night at the restaurant changed my life, not because it re-wrote who I am, nor because we ‘lived happily ever after’ like some fairytale romance. We certainly did not. We’re two, deeply flawed people, our individual faults and struggles, as well as our relationship challenges, continued to press our sense of what love is, what it means to commit to someone, and what intimacy looks like after the initial stages of infatuation have faded. In fact, we almost broke up just ten months after that night. But, I think, what fundamentally changed for me at that dinner is that, for the first time ever, I belong with someone. For the first time in my life, I was accountable to someone other than myself. Harry knew me, saw me at my best and at my lowest, and he loves me anyway. Years of experience had taught me to associate being seen with fear and shame, and it certainly took a lot for me to learn to accept and reciprocate his love healthily. Unlike fairytale romances, real life relationships, I would soon learn, don’t just end after the guy gets the girl. Progress isn’t linear, nor do you ever stop trying to love each other. Those were the things that I held onto during our bumps in the road. And those were the things that changed my life.

Over the remaining few weeks I had left in LA, Harry and I went on real dates, out in the open, like a real couple. I met his friends eventually, he let me into his life fully. When I flew back home, he came to visit a month later, and he met my friends; came with me to work; made me breakfast in the mornings; we went out to dinner at night; we did laundry; watched tv; cleaned my apartment on Sundays. I traveled to see his shows whenever possible.  One time, during soundcheck, he learned that I play the guitar, for the first time, when he and Pauli discussed adding instruments to Satellite, and I picked up a guitar and played the intro to see how it would sound.

“How come I didn’t know you could play?”

“You never asked.”

“Fair enough!”

Pauli laughed and whispered something about Harry finding this knowledge a huge turn-on. The band jokingly asked if they should leave us alone, clear the stage for us to make out. I was both flattered and self-conscious that they could all so obviously see our feelings written all over our faces. But these were Harry’s closest friends, he felt safe being openly affectionate in front of them. 

Turning around, I felt someone towering over me from behind. 

“Don’t mind Mitch, that’s just his face. Also, you’re touching his guitar.”

Mitch, I thought, was the hardest to win over. Though, according to Harry, ‘he’s always liked you.’ I think Harry was just being a supportive boyfriend, knowing my anxiety around friend groups, he wanted me to feel included. 

***

Our most difficult challenge came when I decided to make a change in my career and join the teaching faculty at the college. It happened to coincide with Harry’s work on a new album. He was absent-minded for weeks at a time, and I was stressed and busy. Our communication was nearly non-existent, and, for a while, I thought we would break up. The distance was difficult; neither one of us had been in a serious relationship that had lasted this long. Negotiating where to spend the holidays, who’d fly out to whom and when, whether or not I’d stomach another public event with Harry just to spend more time together, all of that was nothing compared to the stressors that work conflicts brought us. We would end up solving that problem by moving in together, but it would take us both a lot of time to finally come to that solution, and to be emotionally ready for what it meant, for spending so much time together after having spent so much time apart, for merging two very different lives, lifestyles, careers that were so inherently different. For my bouts of depression and anxiety to be impossible to hide away from him, for his huge, messy, life to surround my reclusive existence. Though none of it was a fairytale romance, I suppose, in our own way, we did live happily ever after.

[songbirdsingingthings]

Warmth - Levi Ackerman x Reader

(can we take a minute to appreciate this gif omfg he’s too pretty)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.4K

To put it lightly, working as a scout in the winter absolutely blows. The wind would bluster relentlessly, causing chills to go down your spine, it would be snowing more often than not, and the winter uniforms that were parceled out to everyone didn’t do enough to block the cold temperatures. But, of course, since you were a captain you needed to block out all of the shivers that claimed your body, clench your teeth to stop their chattering, and stand strong in front of the cadets that were at your mercy for the day.

“Attention!” You shouted, causing all of the scouts in front of you to step into a salute, standing completely still like statues. You sigh before you start to give out instructions for their workout, which did include some heavy conditioning, but was shorter than normal. Honestly though, you would’ve preferred to be in their place. While they were going to be enduring hell for about an hour and a half, the movement from their bodies would generate heat, the thing you were currently lacking. You tried to nestle yourself further into the fur trimmed trench coat you were wearing and pulled up the burgundy scarf, grasping for any form of warmth that you could get. 

“You look like an idiot.” You turned around quickly, instantly recognizing the speaker's voice, and shot him an unamused expression. Bundled up and sat atop his horse, your boyfriend, Levi, looked down at you with indifference in his eyes.

“I can accept that insult if my looking like this keeps me warm,” you huff, turning back around to look at the cadets. Some of them even began to shed their layers opting to simply wear their white button ups. You dig your mittened hands further into your coat pockets, feeling even colder just from looking at them. You hear a crunch of boots behind you, signaling that Levi hopped off his horse, and came to stand beside you.

“Shouldn’t have done that Levi, now you’re gonna have to have me help you back up.” You quip, earning a glare from the captain. He simply scoffs and elbows you, hard, in the side. “Ouch, what the hell.” you grumble.

“How much longer do you have to be out here,” he asks, his eyes on the tired cadets in front of him. You begrudgingly take out your hand to check your pocket watch, but end up reveling in the fact that they only had about ten more minutes left. You tell Levi about the time and he nods, making no effort to move.

“Are you waiting for me?” You inquire, a small smile spreading across your face. The raven-haired captain says nothing but stays put. Your smile widens into a grin and you step closer to him, your hips almost touching. “Thank you.” Levi hums in response and the two of you settle into a comfortable silence as you watch the scouts finish up. When it’s finally time, you make every cadet put their coats back on (you’d be damned if they caught a cold due to negligence) and ushered them back into the main building to grab some dinner before they could retire to the shower houses and then to their barracks. As they begin to wander off, Levi swiftly grabs onto your arm and leads you towards the captains’ quarters. “Hey I haven’t eaten yet!” You complain, tugging your body back towards the direction of the dining hall.

“I’ll get some delivered to your quarters, you need to warm yourself up.” He says, a definitive tone to his voice.

“I’m perfectly fine, it’ll only take a few minutes,” you protest, still hell-bent on getting food for yourself. You were a captain, for heaven’s sake, you were surely capable of getting food for yourself. Levi pauses to grab both of your arms, somewhat forcing you to look at him.

“You need to warm up. You get cold way too easily and then I have to hear an earful about it later. So get you and your red ass nose into your personal quarters and take a damn bath.” Levi states. You eventually give in under his ‘don’t test me’ gaze and grumble all the way back to the captains’ quarters with him by your side. The two of you part ways when you enter and you follow his directions and immediately fill up a bath with the warmest water you could get. While you hated the cold weather with a burning passion, the feeling of your shivering body being enveloped by warm bath water will never cease to be one of your favorite feelings. You close your eyes and lean back, soaking up the warmth when you hear a door open. You panic for a second and try to cover yourself with a towel in fear that a higher up, or worse, a cadet has managed to make their way into your quarters.

“I-I’m not decent! Please wait outside!” You say, sounding a little strangled, but the door opens anyways. Thankfully it reveals Levi.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” He says, closing the door with his foot. You give him a glare, but your expression instantly lightens when you see a tray of food in his hands. He takes you in and lets a small chuckle escape his mouth. “Warmer?” He asks, setting down the tray on the little side table next to you. You sit up a bit in the bath and snatch the spoon from his hands, sinking it into the soup and bringing it to your mouth. You hum at the taste - for some reason, today they had splurged on the scout regiment and supplied them with beef and barley soup instead of the usual bean soup.

“Warmer.” you confirm, digging back into the soup and dipping some of your bread into it. “Good.” Levi says, standing up to press a kiss onto your head and exiting the bathroom, giving you a bit more time to yourself. When you were done with both your dinner and your bath, you drained the tub and gingerly stepped out of it, wrapping a towel snug around your body. You step out to see Levi in your bed, donned in his sleepwear, and a book in his hands. You smile as you make your way over to the wardrobe stationed in the corner of your room and take out the warmest pair of sleepwear you could find - a wool long sleeve that you used to wear before you became a scout, and a pair of long pants that just covered your ankles. You pad your way over to your side of the bed and climb in, quickly covering yourself in the blankets. Levi spares you a glance, gives a small smile, and returns his gaze to his book; not before he lifts his arm closest to you, giving you the signal that you could come close to him. You take the opportunity immediately and glom onto his side. For some weird reason, Levi’s bodily temperature always seemed to run hot while yours was consistently colder, making him just that more wantable to you. “Y’know sometimes I think you just use me as a personal heater and nothing else.” He remarks, setting his book down on the side table and blowing out the candle next to him.

“Yeah, and what if I do.” You mumble back to him, your eyes drooping closed, exhaustion seemingly taking over your body. You feel his body shift as he slides down to rest his head on the pillow and pulls you closer to him. His chin finds purchase on top of your head, his other arm wrapping around your waist.

“Then fine.” He says, making you laugh a bit.

“You’d be fine if I was just using you for your warmth?” You quip back, snuggling your head further into the crick of his neck. He hums and rubs circles into your hip with his thumb.

“Anything to get you to stop complaining. It’s annoying when you do that.” He says, his own eyes closing now. The two of you didn’t say anything else, it wasn’t really necessary to. You understood everything Levi said and picked out its meanings through his own special language that you’d grown accustomed to throughout the years of dating him. His responses and remarks that sounded condescending in speech could easily be interpreted into a much simpler meaning. ‘I love you and I don’t want you to be cold.’

[hamliet]

The Crows Summon the Sun

Or, Hamliet’s review of Shadow & Bone, which gets a 4.5/5 for enjoyment and a 3.5/5 in terms of writing.

The true heroes of this story and the saviors of the show are the Crows. However, the problem is that the show then has an uneven feel, because the strength of the Crows plotline highlights the weaknesses of the trilogy storyline. But imo, overall, the strengths overshadow (#punintended) the weaknesses. 

I’ll divide the review into the narrative and the technical (show stuff, social commentary), starting with narrative.

Narrative: The Good 

It’s What The Crows Deserve

I went into the show watching it for the Crows; however, knowing that their storyline was intended to be a prequel, I wasn’t terribly optimistic. And while it is a prequel, the characters have complete and full arcs that perfectly set them up for the further development they will have in the books (which I think should be the next season?). Instead of retreading the arcs they’d have in the books, which is how prequels usually go, they had perfect set up for these arcs. It’s really excellent. 

Jesper, Inej, and Kaz are all allowed to be flawed, to have serious conflicts with one another, and yet to love each other. They feel like a found family in the best of ways. Kaz is the perfect selfish rogue; he’s a much more successfully executed Byronic hero than the Darkling, actually. Inej is heroic and her faith is not mocked, yet she too is flawed and her choices are not always entirely justified, but instead left to the audience to ponder (like killing the girl), which is a more mature writing choice that I appreciated. 

Jesper is charming, has a heart of gold despite being a murderer and on the surface fairly greedy, and MILO THE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT GOAT WAS THE BEST THING EVER. I also liked Jesper’s fling with Dima but I felt it could be better used rather than merely establishing his sexuality, like if Jesper and Dima had seen each other one more time or something had come of their tryst for the plot/themes/development of Jesper. 

Nina and Matthias’s backstory being in the first season, instead of in flashbacks, really works because it automatically erases any discomfort of the implications of Nina having falsely accused Matthias that the books start with. We know Nina, we know Matthias, we know their motivations, backgrounds, and why they feel the way we do. It’ll be easy for the audience to root for them without a lot of unnecessary hate springing from misunderstanding Nina (since she’s my favorite). Matthias’s arc was also really strongly executed and satisfyingly tragic. Their plotline was a bit unfortunately disconnected from the rest of the story, but Danielle Gallagan and Callahan Skogman have absolutely sizzling chemistry so I found myself looking forward to their scenes instead of feeling distracted. Also? It’s nice seeing a woman with Nina’s body type as a romantic and powerful character. 

Hamliet Likes Malina Now

Insofar as the trilogy storyline goes, the best change the show made was Mal. He still is the same character from the books, but much more likable. The pining was... a lot (too much in episode 4, I felt) but Malina is a ship I actually enjoyed in the show while I NOTP’d it in the books. Mal has complexity and layers to his motivations (somewhat) and a likable if awkward charm. Archie Renaux was fantastic. 

Ben Barnes is the perfect Aleksandr Kirigan, and 15 year old me, who had the biggest of big crushes on Ben Barnes (first celebrity crush over a decade ago lol), was pretty damn happy lol. He’s magnificantly acted--sympathetic and terrifying, sincerely caring and yet villainous in moments. Story-wise, I think it was smart to reveal his name earlier on than in the books, because it helps with the humanization especially in a visual medium like film. Luda was a fitting (if heartbreaking) backstory, but it is also hard for me to stomach knowing what the endgame of his character is. Like... I get the X-men fallacy thing, but I hope the show gives more kindness to his character than the books did, yet I’m afraid to hold my breath. Just saying that if you employ save the cat, if you directly say you added this part (Luda) to make the character more likable (as the director did) please do not punish the audience for feeling what you intended. 

I also liked the change that made Alina half-Shu. It adds well to her arc and fits with her character, actually giving her motivations (she kinda just wants to be ordinary in a lot of ways) a much more interesting foundation than in the books. Also it’s nice not to have another knock-off Daenerys (looking to you Celaena and book!Alina). Jessie Mei Li does a good job playing Alina’s insecurities and emotions, but... 

Narrative: The Ehhhhhhh

Alina the Lamp

Sigh. Here we go. Alina has little consistent characterization. She’s almost always passive when we see her, yet she apparently punches an officer for calling her a name and this seems to be normal for her, but it doesn’t fit at all with what we know about her thus far. Contradictions are a part of humanity, but it’s never given any focus, so it comes across as inconsistent instead of a flaw or repression. 

I have no idea what Alina wants, beside that she wants to be with Mal, which is fine except I have no idea what the basis of their bond is. Even with like, other childhood friends to lovers like Ren/Nora in RWBY or Eren/Mikasa in SnK, there’s an inciting moment, a reason, that we learn very early on in their story to show us what draws them together. Alina and Mal just don’t have that. There’s the meadow/running away thing, but they were already so close, and why?  Why, exactly? What brought them together? The term “bullies” is thrown around but it isn’t ever explored and it needed to be this season. If I have to deal with intense pining for so many episodes at least give me a foundation for their devotion. You need to put this in the beginning, in the first season. You just do.

A “lamp” character is a common metaphor to describe a bad character: essentially, you could replace the character with a lamp and nothing changes. Considering Alina’s gift is light, it’s a funnily apt metaphor, but it really does apply. Her choices just don’t... matter. She could be a special lamp everyone is fighting over and almost nothing would change. The ironic thing is that everyone treating her like a fancy lamp is exactly the conflict, but it’s never delved into. We’re never shown that Alina is more than a lamp. She never has to struggle because her choices are made for her and information is gifted to her when she needs it. Not making choices protects Alina from consequences and the story gives her little incentive to change that; in fact, things tend to turn out better when she doesn’t make choices (magic stags will arrive). 

Like... let’s look at a few occasions when Alina almost or does make choices. For example, she chooses to (it seems) sleep with Kirigan, but then there’s a convenient knock at the door and Bhagra arrives with key information that changes Alina’s mind instantly despite the fact that Bhagra’s been pretty terrible to her. If you want to write a woman realizing she’s been duped by a cruel man, show her discovering it instead of having the man’s abusive mother tell her when she had absolutely no such suspicions beforehand. There’s no emotional weight there because Alina doesn’t struggle. 

When she is actually allowed to carry out a bad choice, the consequences are handwaved away instead of built into a challenge for her. Like... Alina got her friends killed. More than once. I’m not saying she’s entirely to blame for these but could we show her reacting to it? Feeling any sort of grief? She never mentions Raisa or Alexei after they’re gone, just Mal, and I’m... okay. They were there because of you. Aren’t you feeling anything? Aren’t you sad? The only time Alina brings up her friends’ deaths is to tell Kirigan he killed her friends when they were only there because she burned the maps. She yells at Kirigan for “never” giving her a choice, but she almost never makes any, so why would he? Alina has the gall to lecture Genya about choices, but she herself almost never has to make any. 

Which brings me to another complaint in general: Alina’s lack of care for everyone around her when they’re not Mal, even if they care for her. Marie dies because of her (absolutely not her fault of course) but as far as we know she never even learns about Marie. She certainly doesn’t ever ask about her or Nadia. Alina seems apathetic at best to people, certainly not compassionate or kind. 

The frustrating thing is that there is potential here. Like, it actually makes a lot of psychological sense for an orphan who has grown up losing to be reluctant to care for people outside of her orbit and that she would struggle to believe she can have any say in her destiny (ie make choices). It’s also interesting that a girl who feels like an outsider views others outside her. But the show never offers examines Alina’s psychology with any depth; it simply tells us she’s compassionate when she is demonstrably not, it tells us she makes decisions when it takes magical intervention to do so. It’s a missed opportunity. This does not change between episodes 1 and 8, despite the episodes’ parallel structures and scenes, which unintentionally reinforces that Alina had little real development. 

Inej and ironically Jesper and Kaz embody the concept of “mercy” far better and with far more complexity than Alina does. The Crows have reactions to the loss of people who even betray them (Arken, etc), learn, and course-correct (or don’t) when they are even loosely involved in having strangers die. They’re good characters because they change and learn and have their choices matter. When they kill we see them wrestle with it and what this means even if they are accustomed to doing so. Jesper can’t kill in front of a child. Kaz wonders what his killings do to Inej’s idea of him.

Narrative: The Mixed Bag

Tropes, Themes, Telling vs. Showing

So the show’s themes in the Alina storyline are a mess, as they are in the trilogy too. Tropes are a very valuable way to show your audience what you’re trying to say. They’re utilized worldwide because they resonate with people and we know what to expect from them. The Crows' storyline shows us what it wants us to learn.

Preaching tells, and unfortunately, the trilogy relies on telling/preaching against fornicationBad Boys. It’s your right to write any trope or trample any trope you want--your story--but you should at least understand what/why you are doing so. The author clearly knows enough about Jungian shadows and dark/light yin/yang symbolism to use it in the story, but then just handwaves it away as “I don’t like this” but never does so in a narratively effective way: addressing the appeal in the first place. If you really wanna deconstruct a trope, you gotta empathize with the core of the reason these tropes appeal to people (it allays deep fears that we are ourselves unlovable, through loving another person despite how beastly they can be), and address this instead of ignoring it. Show us a better way through the Fold of your story. Don’t just go around it and ignore the issue.

The trilogy offers highly simplistic themes at best--bad boy bad and good boy good, which is fine-ish for kid lit but less fine for adult complexity, which the show (more so than the books) seems to try to push despite not actually having much of it.

Alina and Mal are intended to be good, we’re told they are, but I’m not sure why beyond just that we’re told so. Alina claims the stag chose her, but in the show it’s never explained why at all. Unlike with Kaz, Inej, Jesper, and hell even Matthias and Nina, we don’t see Alina or Mal’s complex choices and internal wrestling. 

Like, Inej’s half-episode where she almost killed the guy they needed was far more character exploration than Alina has the entire show, to say nothing of Inej’s later killing which not only makes her leaps and bounds more interesting, but ironically cements her as a far more compelling and yes, likable, heroine than Alina. We see Inej’s emotional and moral conflict. We can relate to her. We see Kaz struggling with his selfishness and regrets, with his understanding of himself through his interactions with and observations of Inej, Alina, the Darkling, Arken, and Jesper.

We don’t explore what makes Mal or Alina good and what makes them bad. We don’t know what Alina discovers about herself, what her power means for her. We are told they are good, we are told she knows her power is hers, but never shown what this means or what this costs them/her. Their opportunities to be good are handed to them (the stag, Bhagra) instead of given to them as a challenge in which they risk things, in which doing good or making a merciful choice costs them. Alina gets to preach about choices without ever making any; Inej risks going back to the Menagerie to trust Kaz. Her choices risk. They cost. They matter and direct her storyline and her arc, and those of the people around her.

Production Stuff:

The Good: 

The production overall is quite excellent. The costumes, pacing, acting, and cinematography (for example, one of the earliest scenes between the Darkling and Alina has Alina with her back to the light, face covered in his shadow, while the Darkling’s face is light up by her light even if he stands in the shadows) are top-notch. The soundtrack as well is incredible and emphasizes the scenes playing. The actors have great chemistry together, friend chemistry and romantic when necessary (Mal and Alina, the Darkling and Alina, Kaz and Inej, Nina and Matthias, David and Genya, etc.) All are perfectly cast. 

The Uncomfortable Technicalities Hamliet Wants to Bitch About:

The only characters from fantasy!Europe having any trace of an accent reminiscent of said fantasy country's real-world equivalent are antagonists like Druskelle (Scandinavia) and Pekka (Ireland). When the heroes mostly have British accents despite being from fantasy Russia and Holland, it is certainly A Choice to have the Irish accent emphasized. The actor is British by the way, so I presume he purposely put on an Irish accent. I'm sure no one even considered the potential implications of this but it is A Look nonetheless.

The Anachronisms Hamliet Has a Pet Peeve About: 

The worldbuilding is compelling, but the only blight on the worldbuilding within the story itself (ignoring context) was that there are some anachronisms that took me out of the story, particularly in the first episode where “would you like to share with the class” and “saved by the horn” are both used. Both are modern-day idioms in English that just don’t fit, especially the latter. The last episode uses “the friends we made along the way.” There are other modern idioms as well.

IT’S STARKOVA and Other Pet Peeves Around the Russian Portrayal 

Russian names are not hard, and Russian naming systems are very, very easy to learn. I could have waved “Starkov” not being “Starkova,” “Nazyalensky” not being “Nazyalenskaya,”  and “Safin” not being “Safina” as an American interpretation (since in America, the names do not femininize). However, “Mozorova” as a man is unfathomable and suggests to me the author just doesn’t understand how names work, which is a bit... uh okay considering a simple google search gets you to understand Russian names. They aren’t hard. I cannot understand why the show did not fix this. It is so simple to fix and would be a major way to help the story’s overall... caricature of Russia. 

Speaking of that... Ravka is supposedly Russian-based, but it is more accurately based on the stereotypes of what Americans think of Russia. Amerussia? Russica? Not great. 

The royals are exactly what Americans think of the Romanovs, right down to the “greasy” “spiritual advisor” who is clearly Rasputin and which ignores the Romanov history, very real tragedy, and the reason Rasputin was present in the court. The religion with all its saints is a vapid reflection of Russian Orthodoxy. The military portrayal with its lotteries and brutality and war is how the US views the Russian military. The emphasis on orphans, constant starvation, classification, and children being ripped from their homes to serve the government is a classic US understanding of USSR communism right down to the USSR having weapons of destruction the rest of the world fears (Grisha). Not trying to defend the Soviet Union here at all, but it is simplistic and reductive and probably done unconsciously but still ehhhh. 

However, I’m not Russian. I just studied Russian literature. I’ve seen very little by way of discussion of this topic online, but what I do see from Russian people has been mixed--some mind, some don’t. The reality is that I actually don’t really mind this because it’s fantasy, though I see why some do. I'm not like CANCEL THIS. So why am I talking about this beyond just having a pet peeve?

Well, because it is a valid critique, and because it doesn’t occur in a vacuum. The Grishaverse is heralded as an almost paragon for woke Young Adult literature, which underlines itself what so frustrates me about how literary circles discuss issues of diversity and culture. Such praise, while ignoring its quasi-caricature of Russia, reflects a very ethnocentric (specifically American) understanding of culture, appropriation, and representation. All stories are products of their culture to various extents, but it bothers me on principle what the lit community reacts (and overreacts sometimes?) to and what people give a pass to. The answer to what the community reacts to and what it gives a pass always pivots on how palatable the appropriation is to American understandings and sensibilities. There’s nuance here as well, though. 

I'm not cancelling the story or thinking it should be harshly attacked for this, but it is something that can be discussed and imo should be far more often--but with the nuance it begs, instead of black/white. But that’s a tall ask. 

[chudleycanonficfest]

Washing Machine Heart

Day 22, Story #2 is by @rosequartzstarswrites​

Title: Washing Machine Heart Author/Artist: rosequartzstars - @rosequartzstarswrites (Because of Tumblr settings, this is posting from my main blog, but it’s me!) Pairing: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (and background Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger) Prompt: 5+1 Rating: T (only for some strong language and non-explicit insinuations) Trigger Warning(s) (if any): none apply! 

“I can’t believe I’m going through with this,” huffed Hermione, struggling to keep up the brisk pace Ron was marking on the sidewalk.

“You never believed you’d have to, did you?” Ron said gleefully, seemingly unaware of just how hard his long-legged strides were to keep up with.

“You never told me you were that good at chess!”

“No, more like you never thought anyone could be better than you at anything!”

Despite only having been friends, close friends, with them for a semester, Harry had already become accustomed to the constant bickering between Ron and Hermione, to the point even of endearment. Coming from the Dursleys’, arguments and rebukes were something he was used to, but the undertone of friendship with which Ron and Hermione faced off was a welcome change (and a very entertaining one). Still, he tended to side quietly with Ron, and this particular time was no exception: part of him was delighted at the prospect of seeing Hermione get a tattoo.

This had all started from a ridiculous bet, born of boredom in the lounge of their dorm building. Ron had eyed the communal chessboard, battered and chipped from years of usage, and challenged Hermione to a match.

Hermione had scoffed: “Only if you want to lose, Ron.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Ron had said, exchanging a look with Harry as a sly smile crept onto his lips.

“I’m completely certain.”

“Certain enough to bet?” Ron had prodded her.

The competitiveness that, before becoming friends, was all Harry had known of Hermione had flared up in her eyes. “I’m listening.”

“When you lose—”

“If I lose, and I won't—”

“When you lose,” Ron had reiterated, “you have to get a tattoo of my choosing.”

Hermione had smirked. “Game on.”

In Hermione’s defense, Harry thought, she hadn’t ever considered she might lose. There really was no way of expecting how good Ron had turned out to be at chess, especially since —Harry thought— Hermione had based her certainty on how abysmal his grades were, against her own straight A’s, in their proofs-based mathematics class, which relied entirely on strength of reasoning. But, as it turned out, Ron was actually a master logician, if only somewhat lazy at his math classes, and this he had proved by absolutely obliterating Hermione with the fastest checkmate Harry had ever borne witness to.

And that is how they had come to find themselves out on the streets of their little college town that night, wrapped in their scarves and their winter coats to battle the first of the December chill, walking to a tattoo parlor Ron knew in the area so Hermione could be forever reminded of her loss by a tattoo Ron would choose. And if Harry knew Ron well, and knew how much he relished teasing Hermione, the reminder would be a strong one.

“I didn’t even want a tattoo,” Hermione was mumbling, more to herself than at either of them. “I never wanted one— did you know that you might not be eligible to donate blood if you have a tattoo? I mean, not that it’s impossible, but it’s a factor against you, like your weight and your age. And my family has a history of needing transfusions— oh, God, what if my grandfather needs a donation, like, tomorrow? The three-month period of eligibility won’t have elapsed, and my father can’t donate, and– and–” She froze in the middle of the sidewalk. “Oh, God, have I killed my grandfather?”

“Relax, Hermione,” Ron said, throwing a fraternal arm around her shoulders and squeezing her half in an attempt to get her walking again. “You’re halfway across the country from home. You wouldn’t be able to fly out on such short notice anyway.”

Harry had to stifle a laugh at how Hermione gaped at Ron then, a billion other dire possibilities to worry about racing through her head now. Ron, however, was less successful at keeping down a chuckle. “I’m kidding, Hermione. Besides, a tattoo will make you look badass.”

“I don’t want to look badass!” Hermione squeaked shrilly. “I’ve never been remotely interested in looking badass!”

“Well, interested or not,” Ron said as they came up to a dark brick building with a neon sign reading LOVEGOOD’S flickering above the door, “it seems like you don’t have much of a choice, because we’re here.”

Hermione let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a gasp and a whine as she looked up at the storefront that, to her, was synonymous not only with her doom but apparently that of her grandfather.

“Ron, please?” she said meekly.

Ron, however, looked gleeful and would not be deterred. “A bet’s a bet,” he declared, grabbing her wrist and beginning to march her up the three or so stairs that led up to the door of the tattoo parlor from the sidewalk. Harry lingered behind for an instant, watching the backs of his two friends as they waddled up the stairs, smiling as he listened to Ron debate whether he would make Hermione get a skull or a sailor’s “Mom” arrow-pierced heart, and Hermione pleading shrilly with him not to do either of those things. Watching them, Harry’s smile widened. He was lucky to have them as friends, that much he knew, despite the short time he’d spent knowing them. Why he hadn’t found them his freshman year was beyond him— but now, now that he had these wacky outings and constant bickering to enjoy, he felt overwhelmingly lucky that they had found him.

“Harry, are you coming in or what?” Ron beckoned him. He had stopped on the topmost step and was still gripping Hermione, whose face was a mask of pure, crystallized terror.

“Absolutely,” Harry said, hurrying up the steps with a little hop. “This I’ve got to see.”

Ron pushed open the door to the parlor with a little too much gusto, and Hermione cringed at the metallic sound of the chimes above the door as they tinkled with the announcement of their entrance. The front of the shop, sealing off the rest with a counter that had seen better days, was empty, the backroom separated by a beaded curtain.

“Hellooo?” Ron called into the backroom, marching right up to the counter. “Is anybody here? We bring a very eager customer!”

Hermione began to protest, but just as she did, an employee came out of the backroom to stand behind the counter. Catching a glimpse of her, Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his chest: she was stunning. She was tall and slender, her toned arms visible through the ripped-off sleeves of her vintage Hole tee, with a curtain of straight orange hair pulled back into a long high ponytail. Her bright brown eyes glimmered atop a button-like nose that matched her small, round mouth perfectly, the pale fine face finished by a spattering of freckles. Even before she had spoken a single word, Harry felt the confidence coming off of her in waves, simply by how she propped her elbows up on the counter and eyed their party somewhat playfully. He was frozen to his place with the sight of her, hoping his jaw hadn’t dropped as low as it had felt in the wake of his awe.

Upon seeing her, however, Ron had had exactly the opposite reaction. “Ginny?” he said incredulously.

“What are you doing here?” the woman —Ginny— said without any greeting, returning Ron’s frown.

“I thought you weren’t working today!”

“I’m covering a shift for Demelza, she had a gyn appointment today.”

“Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have come in,” grumbled Ron. The tips of his ears were beginning to pink, a sign Harry had learned to recognize as a hint of extreme emotion in his friend.

“Well, you’re here now, so… what can I do for you?” Ginny said. “I mean, you can’t possibly be the one getting inked, Ron. You’re too much of a wimp.”

“Shut up, or I’m telling mom you got your helix pierced. That’ll make for a fun Christmas greeting when we’re back home, I’ll wager.”

Then the similarity became apparent to Harry: the freckles, the aggressive red of their hair, the same glint in their eyes… Ginny was Ron’s sister. Somehow, he didn’t know whether that was something he should feel good or bad about.

“Tattletale,” Ginny said, swatting at him. “And it’s called an industrial piercing. Not that you’d know.” Only then did she seem to remark on the rest of the party.

“Harry Potter,” she said, and Harry gulped as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest and leaned back, surveying him. “Come to get a sixth tattoo?”

“A sixth— how do you know?” Harry said, befuddled. Out of all the opening lines he would’ve expected her to use, this had not been one of them.

“You can credit the rumor mill at school,” Ginny shrugged, still eyeing him with interest. “You’re a topic of interest. Or at least among the soccer teams.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Romilda swore you had a griffin tattooed on your chest, but I told her I’d heard it was a dragon. Much more macho, I thought.”

“Thanks,” Harry said dully. What else was he supposed to say?

“Don’t mention it,” Ginny gave him a conspiratorial wink. “And if I were you, I’d find out who on the boys’ team has been giving you the eye in the shower enough to count your tats. I bet it’s Ron.”

“It’s not!” Ron said angrily, the red from his ears bleeding out onto his cheeks.

“I bet it is,” Ginny mouthed to Harry, giving him another wink. “But it’s not you?”

“Pardon?” said Harry, for whom the ‘it-is-it’s-not’ exchange had grown somewhat confusing.

“For the tattoo?” Ginny said, and Harry felt like an idiot. “It’s not you who’s getting it?”

“No, ah, actually— it’s Hermione,” Harry was knocked back into his senses as he gestured toward Hermione, who had stood, utterly baffled, throughout that whole exchange.

“Hermione Granger?” Ginny said, and Harry was almost glad when she turned her gaze away from him and toward Hermione. “As in, Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger?”

“The one and only,” Ron declared proudly, happy to be back off a topic that bothered him (teasing Ron) and back on a topic that delighted him (teasing Hermione).

“I wouldn’t have chalked you up to the tattoo type,” Ginny said.

“Oh, she’s not,” Ron said, his face lighting up as if Christmas had come early.

Ginny’s eyes darted between the dismal face of Hermione and the cheerful face of Ron, her eyebrows rising as she took it in. “Okay, I’m not going to ask about whatever this is. What am I doing on you?”

“I’m designing it,” Ron said brightly. And if Harry had thought that Hermione’s face couldn’t get more desolated, he’d been wrong.

“Christ, Hermione, what has he got on you?” Ginny said, already opening a drawer on the counter to pull out a sketchpad and a pen.

“I’m such an idiot,” Hermione grumbled.

Ron pored over the sketchpad, shielding the paper from Hermione’s eyes as he sketched. When he was done, he handed it to Ginny with a quick flick of the wrist that, much to Hermione’s dismay, ensured she couldn’t even catch a glimpse of what was on it. Ginny looked over whatever it was Ron had drawn and then looked up at her brother with a frown.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, then,” Ginny shrugged. She lifted the counter to open a gap through which Hermione could walk. “Follow me.”

Looking like a lamb led to the slaughter, Hermione looked up to heaven as if making one last, futile plea before scrunching up her nose and following Ginny through the beaded curtain to the backroom. Because yes, she hated the idea of getting a tattoo, but she hated the idea of letting Ron hold one over her even more.

Ron watched her leave delightedly, relishing in the jangle the beaded curtain made as it swallowed Ginny and Hermione into the backroom. “This is going to be good,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “Oh, this is going to be so good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Harry blurted out all of a sudden. He startled himself as much as Ron when he said it, though he was glad he’d been able to pare down the question from what was actually swirling around in his head: Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister that looked like THAT?

Ron looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know. It never came up.”

“You told me about every other one of your five brothers, but not the sister.”

“Nope.”

“Not the sister that seems to be about our age.”

“Nope.”

“Not the sister that seems to be about our age and plays soccer.“ And is hot.

"Nope.” Ron paused and frowned. “She’s a year below us, anyway.”

“Oh, then that explains it,” Harry said sarcastically.

“It seemed like more of a second-semester-of-friendship revelation.”

“I see.”

Harry held the silence between them for a few moments more before he allowed the next question out. “She plays soccer?”

“One more of the long line of Weasleys that get athletic scholarships to Hogwarts College. Except for Percy— no, he was a disgrace, he got in on an academic grant.”

“The family disappointment, truly.”

Harry wanted to ask more about Ginny, but he held his tongue. His friendship with Ron was the most precious thing his sophomore year of college had yielded him, and he didn’t want to jeopardize it by prying further or making it seem like he had the hots for his sister. Even though he did. He suffocated that small voice at the back of his mind: he hadn’t even spoken properly to Ginny, just stood there like an idiot and let her quip freely about his tattoos— which, mind him, apparently were fodder for locker talk back at Hogwarts.

The buzz of the needle in the backroom as it started up brought Harry out of his thoughts, just in time to see a shit-eating grin appear on Ron’s face.

“I wish I could see her face right now,” he said gleefully, and Harry let himself stop thinking about Ginny to join Ron in picturing what Hermione Granger must look like seated in a tattoo parlor chair.

“It really wasn’t so bad,” admitted Hermione as they exited the tattoo parlor and went down the little steps back onto the sidewalk.

Despite his pretensions of malice, Ron’s nobility (which had never been in question, even despite his teasing) had shone through and yielded a considerably modest tattoo: a small, capital “R” in his own handwriting. Hermione, who had almost cried with relief after Ginny showed her the design, had chosen to get it on her left thigh, on the side and at the very top, right under her hipbone.

“Why did you get it there?” Harry asked as they resumed their brisk walk back to campus.

“It’s not a place you usually show. That means if a sleeve shifts or an interviewer sees, I don’t know, my ankle or something, they won’t notice it.”

“As if a tiny ‘R’ would disqualify anyone from a job, let alone you,” snorted Ron.

“Professionalism is a virtue, Ronald,” Hermione huffed, though her cheeks had gone red. “Besides, since that part of me is always covered, I’ll save myself from having to explain the story behind it to anyone that spots it.”

“Yeah, except the bloke that eventually undresses you and sees you in your panties. Try explaining what that 'R’ means to him,” said Ron. But Harry suspected Hermione wouldn’t have to: from how Ron’s eyes had widened and his gaze had lingered when Hermione had pulled down the side of her jeans ever so slightly to show them the finished product, exposing a sliver of her underwear, Harry could almost wager that Ron would be the bloke in question.

They walked in animated chatter for the rest of the way, the tattoo forgotten until Ron made a quip about Hermione now having crossed the gateway to joining a biker gang and Hermione going positively beet-red in the face with outrage. Then Harry, his hands in his pockets, simply smirked to himself and resigned himself to their bickering for the rest of the walk, knowing he was no longer needed in their exchange. Instead, he let his mind drift to Ginny. She hadn’t really spoken to him again, merely ducking out from the beaded curtain backroom and instructing Hermione on how to take care of her tattoo, saying only a general goodbye to the three of them as they exited the shop. There had been nothing in Ginny’s manner to suggest that she might be thinking of him as strongly, as irremediably, as he was of her, and yet there he was.

The main quad was mostly deserted, except for a few scattered groups of late-night library frequenters or sneaking couples, as the three of them crossed it to get to their dorm. Ron and Hermione didn’t stop arguing as they climbed the four flights up to their floor (the elevator, as usual, was broken), and only broke it off because Hermione reached her room before the boys reached theirs, slipping inside it and shutting the door before Ron had a chance to get the last word in.

“Well, that went well,” Ron shrugged as he and Harry kept walking down the hall to their room.

“You actually got her to get a tattoo,” Harry said with some admiration as they reached their door.

Ron grinned as he swiped the key card. “I may drive her crazy, but if anyone was going to get her to do something like that, it was going to be me.”

Ron pushed the door open and let them into their dorm room. He closed the door and, without taking off his coat, immediately flopped onto his bed— or, well, what could be seen of the bed under mountains of dirty or otherwise discarded clothes. Away from his mother’s chore-mongering for the first time, Ron had let himself go wild and go to the other extreme, but even Harry had to admit that the army of socks draped over the foot of his bed was beginning to smell a little stale.

“So,” Ron said, propping his head up, “no parties tonight?”

“Well, it’s a Wednesday,” Harry said.

“So what? There’s no party spirit around here?”

“Ron, it’s the last Wednesday before final exams. People are studying.”

“I wasn’t aware I was rooming with Hermione,” Ron grumbled. Harry had to admit she might have gotten to him a little. However, Ron’s irritation was short-lived, a grin appearing on his face again. “Wait, but we’re not people. We’re not studying.”

Harry surveyed the room and, despite his desire to throw in the towel for the night and have fun with Ron, felt a pang of dismay at just how much grosser it would be if they caved and did that (last time they had, they’d had a Pringle-eating contest, with devastating results for their sheets, which still had some crumbs). “No, Ron. We’re doing laundry.”

Ron groaned. “Jeez, now I’m rooming with my mother.”

“Okay, fine, you don’t have to do the laundry. I’ll do it for the both of us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go hang out with Dean and Seamus or whatever, see if you can get Hermione to do her second wild-card act of the day and make her stop studying to hang out with the guys.”

“Now I’m a man with a mission,” Ron said, perking up in delight at the prospect of teasing Hermione, or even seeing her once more that night.

“Just shove your clothes in the laundry bag before you go, won’t you? I don’t want to touch your nasty briefs more than I have to.”

Ron obliged, tossing all the clothes on and around his bed into his orange laundry bag and pulling the drawstring to close it. “I’ll update you on the Hermione thing,” he said cheerfully, hurrying out of the room and down the hall to the left to the room they’d left Hermione in.

Harry laughed to himself, wondering how long it was going to take Ron to realize why exactly he always seemed so eager to do anything Hermione-related, as he too threw his dirty clothes into a checkered drawstring laundry bag. Then, he hoisted one sack over each of his shoulders and opened the door using his ankle and leg to let himself out, his hands full with the laundry bags. He stifled a smirk as he passed Hermione’s room and heard the familiar bubbling sound of she and Ron rowing. If Harry knew her at all, he knew however much she might argue she’d be out of that room in an hour tops.

He groaned as he looked down the stairs, and rued the day he had been placed in the dorm with the shittiest elevator on campus. Resigning himself, he began to walk slowly down the poorly-lit stairs to the basement, where the laundry room was. However inconvenient this descent was, Harry was at least comforted with the knowledge that the laundry room would not be crowded, which would be the greater inconvenience once the elevator was fixed.

The basement was even dimmer, the white lights flickering and buzzing with electricity as Harry walked to the laundry room almost at the end of the hall. Sure enough, the laundry room was deserted, oddly quiet with none of the familiar hum and rattle of the machines as they worked. Harry knelt in front of a washing machine and began unloading the contents of the laundry bags into it, cramming them in so they’d fit because he sure as hell wasn’t shelling out quarters for two washers. When he’d made it all fit (which had involved the use of force to jam the door shut), he went to the shelf that held the communal detergent and poured it into the soap compartment. With that done, he dug out eight quarters from his pocket and inserted them into the washer’s slot, pressing the “Start Cycle” button when he heard the clink that let him know his quarters had been accepted. The washer rumbled slowly to life, jets of water trickling out as it began to spin in one direction and then the other, and it was a couple minutes before it was spinning at a hearty pace.

Rising from his crouch (he had always liked to watch the washing machine as it booted up to wash in earnest), Harry took the laundry bags and turned to head back upstairs, already thinking of what he might do to pass the time in the hour he had before he had to switch the clothes to the dryer.

He was so caught up in thinking of this that he didn’t see the person entering the laundry room at the same time as he was exiting, which ended in an awkward clash between them.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry blurted.

“No, it’s fine, I’m sorry too— Harry?”

Only then did Harry realize who he had bumped into, and only because she kept standing there did he believe it. “Ginny?”

She still wore her Hole shirt, but had discarded the ripped jeans, combat boots, and round-the-waist flannel he’d seen at the tattoo parlor. Instead, she wore frayed gray sweatpants and flip-flops, her hair pulled up from the long ponytail into a messy bun. She, however, somehow still managed to look almost unbearably beautiful. What’s happening to me?

“What are you doing here?” he asked, the only thing he could think of right that second. Spotting the laundry basket she was cradling, he added: “No laundry in your dorm?”

“No, yeah, there is one, but it’s always too crowded, it being a freshman dorm and all.” Harry nodded: his first year, he too had done entirely more laundry than he had to, and was thankful by the quarters he saved just by realizing he could wear a pair of pants more than once before they were dirty. “So I use the one here. Much quieter. I know Ron’s ID and password—”

“You do?”

“He gave it to me once so I could pick up his books from the library. And my memory’s great.” She gave him a half smile and looked beyond him at the laundry room. “Doing laundry?”

“No, I just like the ambience down here. The shitty lighting and bleach smell are really my style,” said Harry. Ginny laughed, and Harry felt a rush of pride at what was probably the first witty thing he’d ever said to her. “Need a hand?”

“I’d appreciate one, sure,” Ginny said, again smiling at him. Harry moved so she could walk into the laundry room, and watched her pick one of the washing machines that lined the wall. When she’d settled on one, he crouched down next to her and help her lob the clothes into the maw of the machine.

“Tattoo parlor let out early?” he asked as they placed the clothes inside.

“More like you guys came in really late. You were my last customers— I just cleaned up and closed after you left.”

“And you work there?”

“Sure beats a regular work-study, doesn’t it?” Ginny grinned. She tossed in a Tide pod that was left at the bottom of the basket, closed the door to the machine, and rose to find the quarters needed to activate it. “Oh, shoot, I left my wallet in my other pants—”

“I got you,” said Harry, digging for eight more quarters in his pocket. For once, he was glad of his bad habit of carrying an excess of loose change in his jeans, something Hermione already got on to him about (sometimes, like when she’d gifted him a money purse, not too subtly).

“Thanks,” Ginny said, picking the laundry basket up from the ground.

Harry listened for the telling clink and then pressed the button. The washing machine whirred to a start, but for once, Harry didn’t feel compelled to watch it boot up: instead, he turned to Ginny. “So how did you come to work there?”

“At the tat shop?” Ginny asked, hopping to sit on the top of the washer where her clothes were spinning. “My friend Luna’s dad, Xenophilius—”

“Gesundheit.”

“Shut up,” Ginny said, but the hint of a laugh was (to Harry’s satisfaction) visible on her lips again. “Anyway, Xenophilius owns the place. He set up in a college town because he knows college is the first time kids are truly free to make rash, impulse decisions.”

“Like getting a tattoo?”

“Exactly. And besides, all the college students love his New Age bullshit, they think it’s very 70s, so his shop is always full. He got a big boost after he started placing crystals in the shop windows.”

“He’s in with the kids, then?”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll be mortified. But he’s great, really. A little eccentric, but great. He knows me from when Luna and I took an art class together in 10th grade, and he’s always complimented my art, so he helped me get my tattoo artist license as soon as I turned 18 and hired me.”

“Is Luna the girl with the shaggy blond hair and the weird glasses?”

“That’s her. Though I’m surprised you didn’t know her by her bottlecap necklaces. That’s usually what people comment on.”

“Does she work there too?”

“Yeah, though not as an inker, she’s useless with a needle. She designs a big chunk of the tattoos, though, both original designs and commissions or requests.”

“That’s awesome,” Harry said. He realized that was the first time through the whole conversation that he had stopped. He’d never hesitated on what to say next: conversation with Ginny had flowed easily, naturally, and he hadn’t had to think too hard to keep it going. Still, he was a little disappointed that it had stopped. Ginny, however, seemed to share in this, because rather than say goodbye and take her leave, she opened up a new topic.

“So how long have you and Ron been friends?”

“Er– since the start of this school year, actually.”

“Really? You’d think from how he talks about you, he’d known you forever.” Harry felt a flush of happiness at hearing that Ron talked about him.

“Well, I got him for a roommate this year, and we just clicked. Then it turned out we had a lot of the same classes. And we’re both on the soccer team, so it just got better from there.”

“It seems strange that you never crossed paths your freshman year.”

Harry shrugged. “I mean, freshman year is weird for everyone. I certainly felt like I was just bouncing from one place to another. I still hang out with a lot of the guys from last year, but my friends have changed. It makes sense— the first year, everyone is trying to meet as many people as possible, as if it’s a race, but by sophomore year you know more of what you want and what you’re looking for. In a way, I’m glad I met Ron now that I’m in a more stable place, now that I know my way around the college and have a better grip on things. I have a feeling he’s a friend I’m gonna keep.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sticking around the Weasleys,” Ginny said, and Harry felt a tingle run up his spine. Was she… flirting with him? “And Hermione?”

“Oh, Hermione’s great, Ron and I would be dead by now if not for her— I don’t know how I got through a full year without her.”

“But she’s very different from you guys, isn’t she?”

“Well— on the surface, sure, but not in the things that matter. The fact that she went through with the tattoo tonight when she could’ve kicked up a fuss and bailed out tells you all you need to know.”

“So what I’m hearing is that Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger is as much of a bonehead as my brother at heart?”

“Stubborn, is the word I’d use. And only when Ron’s involved, actually.”

Ginny smirked. “Idiots. They haven’t even realized it.”

Harry knew exactly what she meant. “You think it too?”

“Oh, I’d bet on it. Ten bucks says they’re together by the end of the year.”

“Hey, did our visit by the parlor today teach you nothing about bets? They can be dangerous.”

“But I’m betting against you, aren’t I?” The way she said you made Harry’s heart skip a beat. “Fine, not ten bucks. But I’ll bet you a load of laundry, how’s that?”

“Deal,” said Harry, taking Ginny’s extended hand to shake it. The touch of her palm, with its long, slender fingers, sent warmth coursing down from his hand and the length of his arm. They let go and dropped hands, and perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Harry thought he detected a certain reluctance in Ginny as they did.

Harry leaned against the washer, his propped elbow almost brushing up against her thigh. “How about you? How’s your first year going so far?”

Ginny winced. “As well as you’d expect, I suppose. Lots of people still behave like it’s an extension of high school, and I’m very much over that. But as things go, I’m having a blast. Being on the soccer team certainly helps.”

“Congratulations on that scholarship, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said, her wide smile revealing a row of perfect, square white teeth. “You’re on a scholarship too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. My aunt and uncle would’ve never paid a single cent for me to go to college, so it was the only way. But I’m sure they were glad to be rid of me anyway.”

“They sound like lovely people,” Ginny said sarcastically.

“I should introduce them to this Xenophilius sometime. My uncle Vernon would have a stroke just walking into that shop.”

“Well, if you ever swing by, you have an insider contact,” Ginny offered, and Harry loved the implication of something, even something as simple as an 'insider contact’, between just the two of them. “I’d be happy to arrange a meeting, especially for such esteemed patrons.”

“I might take you up on that, if I ever planned on seeing them again,” Harry said. The words came out a bit more harshly than he’d expected, and the second silence in their talk set in, brought on by the darker implications of his family situation. Desperate to break it, Harry cleared his throat and geared up to talk again: “So, do you have any tattoos?”

He was relieved to see the smile, that coy, almost lopsided smile, appear on Ginny’s face again. “Actually, no, not a single one.”

“Do you think you’d ever get one?”

Ginny thought for a second. “I might, if something meaningful enough came around. And only if I was 200% sure. But really, I feel like one tattoo would lead to another, and then I’d never stop and run out of room on my skin. So it’s more of a containment mechanism, really.”

Harry smirked. “Hm. Interesting.”

Ginny broke out onto a full grin as she watched him. “What?” she asked, but when Harry’s smirk only deepened, she shoved him playfully, her touch on his shoulders eliciting the same warm sensation as the handshake. “What, Potter, tell me! Why is it interesting?”

“I mean, since you work at a tattoo shop, and you’re wearing a Hole t-shirt, I just thought you might be the type—”

“The Hole tee? Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna gatekeep it, like you’re the type of guy who’d be like 'name three songs'—”

“No, not at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t know a lot of music by Hole. I really only know who they are because of that one Fall Out Boy song Courtney Love was featured in—”

Ginny winced. “Not Fall Out Boy, please.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Fall Out Boy?”

“Harry—”

“I know they get a lot of shit, but really, their first albums are pretty good—”

“Harry, you’ve gotta stop right here, or you’re going to make me stop finding you so attractive.”

And just like that, there it was, out in the open. Harry felt stun: he felt his mouth open to offer a witty retort, but no words came out. Because the girlish grin had evaporated from Ginny’s face and turned into a different, more mature look, her eyes smoldering slightly and her mouth slightly pouted.

“What about you?” she asked, her words slower, as if she was choosing each one individually. “If the soccer team gossip is true, I know you have five tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice having dropped as well. “Yeah, there were a few tat shops around my neighborhood where the rules were pretty lax.”

“What are they?” Ginny asked.

“The tattoos? Well, the first ones I ever got were my mom and dad’s birth and death dates, on my wrist,” Harry said, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to display two small lines of numbers, in plain black ink, on his forearm.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ginny said softly.

“Don’t be, I was really small when it happened. But I still wanted to pay them homage. Anyway, I’ll not bore you with my family history right now.”

“But tell me sometime?”

Harry was ecstatic at the implication that Ginny wanted to spend even more time with him. “Yeah,” he said, smiling at her. “Yeah, I will.” He moved on to the second tattoo, shifting the other sleeve up a bit to show Ginny a small black paw print in the center of his wrist. “This was my third one. My godfather was the only person my aunt and uncle would let me see while I was growing up, and even then only because he threatened them. And he had this huge, black shaggy dog, I think it was a Newfoundland, that looked almost like a bear, named Padfoot. I loved that dog, and every time I think of the happiest moments growing up, Padfoot’s in a lot of them. So when he died when I was sixteen, I got this to remember him by. It seems like a tribute to my godfather, too, so I like it doubly.”

He didn’t need encouragement from Ginny to keep going. He raised his left leg and propped it up on the washing machine by where Ginny’s legs hung, rolling his sock down a bit to show a green, line-art tuft of grass snaking above his ankle. “I got this when I got the soccer scholarship to come here. I wanted something to commemorate soccer, seeing as it’s not only, y'know, my passion, but also what got me out of that damn house for good. But I thought something like a soccer ball or a net or even the pitch outline would be too cheesy, so I got a bit of grass, y'know, as in the field…”

“Tasteful,” Ginny nodded her approval, and Harry felt newfound appreciation for that tattoo. “That’s three down, Potter.”

“I’m getting there.” Harry brought his leg down from the washer and turned his back to Ginny, taking his hand up to the nape of his neck and using it to shift the hair there upward to reveal the back of his neck where it turned into his back. “Can you see it?”

“The little lightning bolt?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the story of that?”

“That was my second one. To be honest, I was a little ink-happy after my first one, so a couple of weeks after I got it I went back and got this.”

“But why a lightning bolt?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, turning back around to face her. “I guess it was just cool.”

“Oh, very,” Ginny said, and the edge in her voice let him know she was teasing him. “That leaves us with one, then. The emblematic chest tattoo.” Again, the playfulness disappeared from her face and was replaced by that strange look, the one Harry couldn’t really decipher but really, really liked. “Tell me, then, Harry— is Romilda Vane right?”

It was only because of the suggestiveness in Ginny’s voice and the permanence of that look on her face that Harry did what he did next. His movements slow, he pulled his shirt off over his head, setting it on the washing machine right by where Ginny sat. He heard Ginny draw in a breath and it hitch in her throat as she saw him, her eyes moving over his bare skin to spot the ink blot that had brought this all on. Curled above his right pec was a small, S-shaped dragon, colored in red and gold.

“I win,” Ginny said, her voice still husky, as she extended her left hand to touch the dragon with her fingertips.

“Are you going to tell Romilda?” Harry said, his own right hand settling lightly on Ginny’s thigh.

“No, actually,” Ginny said, her palm now coming down flat on Harry’s chest. Her other hand had also drifted to him, and she had placed it on Harry’s left side, right below his ribcage, as if to hold the side of his torso. “I think I’d rather keep this moment to myself.”

And then she was leaning in and kissing him, touching her lips to his first with tentative softness that turned into a stronger, more determined fire as the kiss deepened. With both of Ginny’s hands on Harry, and one of Harry’s on Ginny’s thigh and the other supporting the weight of the kiss against the solidity of the washer, they leaned into one another. Harry’s mouth sought out Ginny’s eagerly, overcome by the fiery feeling pooling in his stomach and rising up to his throat through his chest, by the fact that everything he’d thought about on their walk back from Lovegood’s was coming true much sooner (and much better) than he’d expected. He felt Ginny’s tongue nudge at his lips and opened his mouth to let her in, engulfing more of her lips with his as he did so. Ginny kissed passionately, her tongue meeting Harry’s even as her teeth dug lightly into Harry’s lower lip, making him kiss her more deeply. With her this close, he was invaded by the flowery smell of her hair, by the soft feel of her skin, by the low humming sound she made as she kissed him. And everything was coming together, making the fire in his chest grow, and it was a good kind of burn, better than whiskey, better than anything—

The loud ding of the washer as it announced it had concluded its cycle startled them, and they pulled back from the kiss looking a little dazed, that one upbeat chime having been all they needed to bring them reluctantly back into the real world. Still Ginny didn’t take her hands off Harry, and Harry felt less than inclined to move his from her leg.

“I should, uh, switch to the dryer,” he said, the only thing that popped into his mind there.

Ginny tightened her hold around his middle and moved her hand from his chest, wrapping it around his upper back to draw him closer. “Oh, let it wait,” she said, and then she was kissing him again, and Harry was finding that the dryer could wait for hell to freeze for all he cared.

The sleepy sound of the chimes above the door didn’t even make Ginny raise her gaze from her stats study guide, which she’d pulled out to make the best of the not-too-busy lull at Lovegood’s. “We’re almost closed,” she announced to whoever had come in.

“You can’t make room for one last customer?” a familiar voice said, and only then did Ginny perk up immediately.

“Harry!” she said brightly, shutting the stats book as it became all-but-forgotten. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to add one more tattoo to the five I’ve already got,” said Harry. “Think you can give me my sixth?”

Ginny didn’t even need to say yes, just opened up the lift-up counter door and disappeared through the beaded curtain. “Flip the door sign to 'closed’ before you come through, will you?”

Harry obliged and flipped the sign before following Ginny to the backroom. He sat patiently on the tattoo chair as Ginny milled about, getting the supplies ready.

“Y'know, you never did tell me the story behind your dragon tattoo,” Ginny commented as she went through the sterilization procedure for the needles. “Seeing as we were, um, otherwise occupied…”

The memory of the kiss flooded through Harry with the same fire that he’d held in his chest ever since, the flame growing to engulf his whole body just hearing Ginny mention it. “Should I tell you now?”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“I got it as a tribute to my old headmaster back home, Albus Dumbledore. Funny old man, and incredibly cryptic, but he’s the one that first gave me the idea of applying for the scholarship and helped me get all my grades and papers in order so I could make it here. We were very close, and he had this saying that he used to tell me whenever I ended up in his office for getting into trouble— 'never tickle a sleeping dragon’, he’d say.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Harry laughed briefly and shrugged. “Hell if I know. But it was his catchphrase. So after I graduated, I wanted to get something to commemorate him, so I got the dragon from his favorite saying. He came with me and got it too.”

Ginny turned to him and eyed him quizzically. “Your headmaster got the tattoo along with you?”

“I told you he was a funny old man.”

Ginny pulled a pair of black latex gloves over her hands and rolled a wheeled office chair over to Harry, the needle in hand. “So by what I’m hearing, you only ever get tattoos of things that are extremely meaningful to you, right?”

“That’s right,” said Harry.

“So, Mr. Meaning, what’ll it be this time?”

Harry smiled. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it slightly upward, just enough to uncover his lower trunk. He pointed to a spot on the left side of his torso, right under his ribcage— right where Ginny’s hand had been, where her touch had been burned into his skin. “Right here,” he said. “I’d like a little washing machine.”