#Shed!!! Shed I love you and owe you my life

[ochrearia]

AAAAAAA

Have this ref while i wait til the morning for @ochrearia to wake up as well and give feedback

Goodnight Bubbs <3

[futureplayboibunnie]

Heartless Pt.1

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem! reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

okay i’ve redirected this fic and made it into a slowburn multi chapter series, in hindsight my last idea was too abrupt. i feel like this storyline is wayyyy better. I LOVEEEE SLOWBURN. i hope ya’ll like this one better! Part 2 up now!

PS. if you don’t like this type of stuff, don’t be stupid and comment on it because I really don’t care enough to hear it, use ur fingers and scroll. it’s not that hard.

You thought your wedding day would've been more romantic than this.

More personal, more involved, a consolidation of the many moments you shared with the man you were going to love forever, but free will and liberation were something that you gave up when your parents decided that it was in your family's entrepreneurial interest to participate in a partnership with the O'Hara Dynasty.

You weren't mad. It was just...different. You knew this day was coming but it was all wrapped together quite nicely, in a neat little bow.

Everything was done with the utmost sensitivity and respect, the O'Hara family's Consigliere placed piles of paperwork in front of you, NDAs were rarely ever necessary, and guns and fists normally did the trick but Miguel personally wanted all of this to be clean. He was getting married for the sole purpose of extending his power and influence, being a part of the 5 Families in this city wasn't something that was done without shedding blood. And Miguel shed a lot. This was a very important occasion to him, marriage was important in all generations of his family, and almost every single Don arranged a marriage with a woman from another Dynasty just for the purpose of spreading influence and agendas. Miguel and his brother talked for hours about it and in the end, he had to do what was necessary for his family and his capos. He needed to conserve what was his whilst also inserting his power.

Dealing with ill-tempered men and being a sounding board for their last scraps of sanity wasn't new but Miguel wasn't that. He was just silent in a way you didn't like. It was almost unsettling. Maybe it would be easier to hate him if he was an asshole, but he was very kind and respectful in the little words he said to you.

All of this was strictly professional, a beautiful show for the underworld. It was ridiculous and you felt like a fool, and after the day you had, it felt perfectly reasonable to feel that way.

It was your wedding day and word got around fast.

The dress he picked was fine.

The ceremony was fine

The ring was fine

Everything was just fine.

Now you were in his cold, lavishly destitute penthouse at an ungodly hour, sitting around, still in the wedding dress that you haven't taken off for some reason- maybe to compensate for the fact that you'll throw it in a corner, leave it in the cold and black dark, collecting dust for you to never see it again. Miguel's capos had to scamper around and follow you just about anywhere but for once, they left you alone with Miguel shooing them out.

Is this what your life would be like? Sitting around, waiting for something to happen? Was everything meant to be so banal and grey?

“You looked lovely today.” A low voice grumbled behind you, you whipped your head around to see Miguel leaving his study and entering the living room, he was still wearing his tux with that unknotted ugly bow tie that was crooked the whole ceremony. He looked tired. You gave him an agreeable smile in response.

"Thank you.” You said politely, there was just nothing purposeful behind your voice. All there was between you and Miguel was agreeable conversation, polite and meaningless drivel to distract from the very true and real fact that you were betrothed, you both owed each other something. Miguel gave you protection and you gave Miguel his pathway to influence- it was a business transaction, that was all, but it didn't mean that all of this wasn't abnormal. “I can't reach the zipper, can you please zip me down?” You asked as if it was a normal question- it wasn't for your kind of relationship but what the hell was normal nowadays? For Christ's sake, you were married to a man you barely knew and you slept in different rooms.

Miguel approached you in silence, watching you stand up from the couch and turn around. He liked the dress, he picked it out himself, you looked nice. His fingers found the zipper and pulled down slowly, watching the slivers of skin appear with every small tug down.

As far as women go, Miguel wasn't really that interested in sleeping around, every woman he shared himself with became a target or an opportunity pry into his head- he didn't want anyone messing with his internal affairs. Sometimes he'd cave and fuck one of the women serving him drinks at private poker nights, they always made eyes at him, begging him with fluttering eyelashes and wet lips to fuck them senseless. He was a man after all, sometimes it was enjoyable, sometimes it wasn't, he just needed to get off.

You on the other hand, you were unreadable in a way that he didn’t know how to approach.Though sometimes he did find you talking to him like an acquaintance vaguely irritating he would definitely be a hypocrite for calling you out.

It felt like you were holding your breath when he was finished, you settled baxk into your senses, he gazed over the patch of skin peeking out of your dress. He stopped his gawking when you turned around and gave him a weak smile like you would a friend or a neighbour. "Thank you. Goodnight Miguel.” You walked passed him and went to your designated room. Miguel did the same

You never really thought of yourself as an incurable romantic, but this was truly dull and you contemporary marriage like this. Even if it was to one of the most dangerous men in the city.

-

You awoke to a cacophony of sizzling and rustling noises coming from outside your room, your dreary eyes lulled by sleep couldn't fight against the delicious smell wafting from outside. Before you could fully register that breakfast was being made, the first thing you noticed was the heavy feeling of dread resting on your chest, you raked a tired hand over your face and rubbed your eyes awake. Opening them up fully, you saw the white fabric on the floor. In another life, the husband you actually loved would be laying next to you, whispering sweet nothings. Your wedding dress and veil were strewn about as if it was an article of clothing a teenage girl would carelessly discard while figuring out what to wear for a date with Tommy or Billy or Jason or whoever. But this wasn't high school drama, this was the type of life you were conditioned into.

Blood, war, and money.

You weren't complaining, the protection it offered you was immense. Miguel was a corrupt man dealing with equally corrupt politicians and people of interest, he had to adapt in his work but a part of you didn't believe he was the poisonous person everyone always made him out to be. Maybe it was because you hadn't seen him in his raw, primal ways, beating people bloody. That's what made you weary.

You shifted up and headed over to the walk-in wardrobe. This was the part that really stunted you, Miguel wanted you to wear what he specifically liked, everything was picked out by him and you still didn't know how to feel about it, but it made you grimace. You stepped in and glanced at the hangers, they were all ordered out by color and style. You noticed that he seemed to like satin and silk, and he was very particular about color, he liked black, silver, grey and even a baby blushed pink in certain articles. Your fingers grazed over the silk of the nightwear dresses, and the fabric of the gala dresses- you didn't like the idea of having to play pretend in front of too many people. You idled towards the drawers and wondered what he preferred when it came to underwear. You raised a cynical eyebrow and your lips pursed in curiosity as you let your finger pull it open.

Your mouth unhinged in a surprise you expected, but not in the way you thought of. He definitely had a thing for lingerie. God, there was a pair of everything, lacy, strappy, padded, unpadded, sheer garters, sparkly garters, knee highs, thigh highs. He was very particular indeed. It was tailored to your perfect cup size. Fucking hell. He liked Brazilian underwear but he seemed have an affinity for a thong too. You sighed and closed the drawer, you didn't want to read into it. Your eyes wandered to the muted pink silk robe hanging next to the drawer. Hm. That'll do for breakfast.

Miguel looked up from his newspaper to see you padding barefoot to the table where a spread was laid out. His maid, although young, ditzy and so obviously desperate to fuck him, was a very talented cook but the coffee she made always tasted like dirt. “Thank you.” He said to her plainly, he couldn't even look at her due to him being distracted by your presence. Your face creased into a light frown as you stared at the eye candy handing Miguel his coffee before she left as Miguel waved his hand. Of course the women who worked around him had to be insanely beautiful.

“Good morning.” Miguel grumbled before taking a sip. You were wearing the silk robe he liked. Good. Good girl.

You didn't say anything back, acting aloof and nonchalant seemed to be the only way of conserving whatever sanity you had left. The back of your throat had back drool when you stared at the delicious spread in front of you. You didn't know what you wanted to eat first. You grabbed a few pickings of everything, topped off with a mimosa. You ate in polite silence, minding your business, uninterested in anything he had to say at this point. Miguel settled down his newspaper and glared at you, you weren't particularly bothered by his presence, and that made him...unsettled. It went on like this for a solid few minutes.

“What?” You asked him, not even giving him the decency of looking him in the eye. Miguel was silent for a moment, contemplating your presence before he opened his mouth.

“We're leaving the city tonight.” He said oh so casually in that deep, low voice of his.

"And why is that?”You sighed tiredly, a slightly amused smirk twitched at your lips at this out-of-the-blue statement.

Miguel clicked his tongue and cooed at you, “Because cariño, my Consigliere has informed me that our marriage is not boding well with the other 5 Families, they think it's a covert attack in some sort of way, a questioning of power or sorts. And also..” He cut himself off for a reason unknown to him. “He also thinks it's a prudent idea to have a honeymoon, to hone everything in and make this...real.” He murmured as he rolled up his shirt sleeve.

Your eyes pricked up at the word 'real.' Wasn't this real? The papers were real. The ring was real. But the actual connection…? You glowered at him, your eyes narrowed.

“Do you think this is real?”

Miguel didn't know how to answer that. “Isn't real relative?”

“No.” You replied thickly like you didn't even need to think about it.

“Look. I don't want to discuss this.”

“So you can't compromise.” You shot back.

“No, I won't.” He pushed his chair back aggressively and sat his coffee down hard, he looked irritated by all of this. He didn't like that you thought you had the power to interrogate him.

Miguel walked past you as he went to exit the room but then for some reason he halted in his tracks. Compromise. Miguel is not known for compromising. The people around him know that for a fact, but he doesn't want this marriage to be another agenda that he has to put up with. He didn't want to hate you.

He sighed.

“Choose where we go. Tell my brother and he'll tell my pilot.” Miguel said coldly, his tone clipped and gruff even when he was trying to build a bridge of some sort.

It didn't seem like you had a choice, so now you were just another lackey he ordered around.

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE! DELINQUENT! OC x READER

As celebration for 1K followers and 1K likes on the HAIRPIN | POPPED short fic. I have drawn a sketch of Mori and made another fic for you all ! Enjoy ;D

Please read the previous fic linked above for context.

warnings: [y/n] is masc leaning though i don’t use anything specific to describe them. [y/n] is kind of a terrible person. perv! mori. mentions of sex. underwear theft. stalking. m. masturbation.

IT TOOK MORI AN EMBARRASSING AMOUNT OF TIME TO NOTICE THAT YOU TWO WERE IN THE SAME CLASS. But now that he knew, he made sure to attend as much as he can. Shamelessly staring at you like he was about to have you as his next meal.

This would have prompted your classmates to warn you, if you weren’t such a menace and a half yourself.

From what Mori learned from his stalking, you were about as bad as he was when it came to physical hostility only that yours came in the form of verbal and emotional assaults. You were known for turning even the most popular person in campus into an outcast with just a click of a button. It became your job to basically be on the know-how of everyone. You probably knew everything there is about Mori himself.

He found out after seeing an underclassman confess to you. Poor kid had his heart shattered when you told him that you shared his declined terrific confessions about wanting to be railed by you, to not only the entire school, but the internet as well.

What was even worse was that kid still liked you after all that. Apparently you two were acquaintances and he had unknowingly saved the junior from getting his ass beat by kicking the bullies’. And that led to you and Mori meeting.

Tch. Why did he have to owe that lanky piece of shit the honor of encountering you?

After going through the 5 stages of grief that is falling in love with you. Mori decided to just fuck it and accept the fact that he ain’t getting you out of his heart and/or mind anytime soon.

Might as well indulge his feelings.

By that he means following you everywhere.

And he means everywhere.

His lackeys are so confused. Why was Boss stalking you? You had a horrid reputation like him, but you only attacked when provoked. But the way Boss was staring you down said otherwise. His horny was mistaken as anger.

This would have prompted them to ‘deal’ with you. If you didn’t threaten their social lives.

So for the next month it had been a standstill. Until one fateful day. When you dragged him to a dark, abandoned shed behind the school.

And started taking off your pants/skirt, and your undergarments. Your genitalia out for show.

“Wh-Wha—Wait— I’m—“ He stuttered. He’d seen you strip many times before. Even masturbating inside your closet and on your bed. But seeing you do it right in front of him with nothing between you two was still . . . new but nice . . . and a tad bit overwhelming.

“It’s my underwear.” You dangle the piece of cloth on front of his face. Using your free hand to put your pants/skirt back on.

“I can see that, why are you giving me your dirty ass—“

“I was thinking it may have been the kid. Taking all my laundry and all that. But then you started following me everywhere.”

“Y-You knew?!”

“I was guessing. But now I know.” You shrugged casually, as if you hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell in the world. As if you hadn’t just exposed his depraved actions towards youz

“Which brings me to my next point, I want you to go out with me.”

“What?!”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“YES! I mean, yes — But . . . why ?”

“Well it’s an equal exchange. I’d have a boyfriend to stop all those pesky confessions and attempts at my life, which you have been doing for me in the background. Thank you, by the way—“

“You’re- You’re welcome? You could have said something—“

“Let me talk properly before I change my mind.” Tired of holding your underwear, you decided to throw it on his face before continuing, “And you, get to take all the underwear you’d like. Get to take me on all the dates you’d like. Maybe even fuck me in whatever place or position you’d like.”

This was too good to be true. Mori was leaking from the words coming out your mouth, but he had to make sure he wasn’t getting himself into a situation he didn’t want.

“What’s the catch?”

“It’s simple. Know your place. I take the reins of this relationship. Not you. I make the decisions and adjustments to this exchange. Not you. We’ll break up when I say so. So there’s no backing out on your terms I’m afraid.”

The arrangements seemed unfair. Too perfect. It wasn’t as if he’ll break up with you at any moment, he’ll just have to focus on keeping your eyes on him. There was nothing to be afraid of. Doubt still permeated, but even then . . .

“Deal.” He answered immediately. The benefits were too good to care about essentially being a guard dog. He might as well indulge as he has been.

This time without the time spent hesitating on his decision.

“Let’s make good on that deal right now, shall we?”

[ YANDERE DELINQUENT / MORI CHARACTER PROFILE ]

[edenmemes]

baldur's gate 3 starters (part 2)

part 2 / ? .

❝ i’m also worried about me, but i somehow seem to be worried about you more. ❞ ❝ you put the stars to shame. let’s sit here a little while - i want to drink you in. ❞ ❝ i’d tell you not to get in trouble, but i suspect it will find you whether you like it or not. ❞ ❝ well, this seems as good a time as any for me to stop babbling on. ❞ ❝ i just….need some air…clear my head. ❞ ❝ it’s been a long time since i shed a tear. i don’t even know how long. ❞ ❝ i had a feeling you’d show up. it’s sort of our thing. like it’s fate or something. ❞ ❝ i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little. ❞ ❝ if that was an attempt at flirting, i should let you know i prefer the strong, silent type. ❞ ❝ no matter how far you come, you’re still on the road to ruin. ❞ ❝ i thought you a hunter. wrong. you’re prey - small. snivelling. pathetic. ❞ ❝ and what am i owed? what about the injustices i’ve suffered - am i not entitled to anything? ❞ ❝ i can’t help but feel the strangest twinge of disgust as i look upon you. ❞ ❝ i trust that you will continue to remember who is really on your side. ❞ ❝ better a short life built on truth than immortality woven of lies. ❞ ❝ i won’t make excuses. i can’t make amends. but i want to help, if you’ll let me. ❞ ❝ gods, it’s horrifying…and a touch fascinating. ❞ ❝ there are many names for you --- and all of them inspire dread. ❞ ❝ destiny is at your door; won’t you at least twitch the curtain? ❞ ❝ the gravest crimes committed in this world are committed for love. a hunger crueller than bloodlust. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a backbone, and the makings of a leader. ❞ ❝ revenge sounds so sweet until you’ve taken it. then all you have is…no one left to blame. ❞ ❝ some mistakes can’t be resolved with an apology. some mistakes, you have to carry with you, forever. ❞ ❝ you’re plotting something, aren’t you? come on then - out with it. ❞ ❝ this is not good, if i may state the obvious. ❞ ❝ think of all we’ve been through just to get to this moment. that wasn’t luck. that was us. ❞ ❝ feel like i should laugh but i’m just too godsdamned tired. ❞ ❝ there is something i lost…no, had taken from me. i want it all back. ❞ ❝ careful - you’re in very real danger of hurting my feelings. ❞ ❝ one thing i’ve learned - real saviours never label themselves as such. ❞ ❝ less thinking of bad thoughts, and more breaking of bad bones. ❞ ❝ i rather like interfering. it’s kind of my thing. ❞ ❝ evil is evil, even if it once was innocent. ❞ ❝ you know, i've been catching myself smiling more lately. i think that's your fault.. ❞ ❝ oh, i’m no innocent. but evil? you tell me. ❞ ❝ i still want to believe you’re better than that. but even i am having my doubts. ❞ ❝ i can’t afford to lose my nerve. safer to just not think, and keep forging ahead. ❞ ❝ when all this is over, will you stay with me? for good? ❞ ❝ this is not good, if i may state the obvious. ❞ ❝ is there a reason you're always such an utter drip? do you have some sort of condition? honestly, it's like you hate good news. ❞ ❝ all of nature’s beauty pales in comparison to you. ❞ ❝ i can’t save you from yourself. it hurts terribly, but i can’t. ❞ ❝ if i seem suddenly flush with hope and soft feeling, you have only yourself to blame. ❞ ❝ is there good and evil within us all? ❞

❝ i’ve been watching you fight. your skills are improving. ❞ ❝ you know, for all the sense of dread and horror seeping through this place, i really feel quite at home here. ❞ ❝ and you? you’re wholly without vice or sin or the occasional lapse in judgement? ❞ ❝ i wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are. but i do. ❞ ❝ one might say you’re paragon of luck. i’ll be there when it runs out. ❞ ❝ i've always had a soft spot for the confident ones…they always disappoint though. ❞ ❝ i concealed nothing from you. i simply left out the details that were not pertinent. ❞ ❝ you’re an odd friend. but, i suppose, a friend still. ❞ ❝ i won’t let you do this. i won’t let you win. ❞ ❝ you are my puppet. make no mistake. without me, you have no value. ❞ ❝ well, this seems like a lovely little spot. the sense of impending doom aside. ❞ ❝ whoever your enemies are, they have good reason to fear you. ❞ ❝ this place is astonishing, a bard’s tale made real. ❞ ❝ i may not regret my actions, but i do regret that they were necessary. ❞ ❝ experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there’s always hope. ❞ ❝ if this adventure has taught me anything, it’s that there are things in this world more valuable than power. ❞ ❝ a wise man learns from his mistakes, and strives not to repeat them. ❞ ❝ no more hiding things from me. agreed? ❞ ❝ my friend. my companion. i adore you. ❞ ❝ your face is sour. by all means leave, if i am so distasteful. ❞ ❝ careful, it’s dark around here. would be a terrible shame to lose you forever. ❞ ❝ you startled me. i…i was miles away. ❞ ❝ you have to know who i was. you have to know who i really am. ❞ ❝ nothing special, of course. you’re only the first person who i truly care for. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a backbone, and the makings of a leader. ❞ ❝ anything you ask, i’ll answer as honestly as i can. ❞

[cellophaine]

Chapter XI: TIEBREAK

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader, Art Donaldson x Tashi Donaldson.

Warnings: Angst, discussion of miscarriage and women's reproductive health problems.

Author's Note: I'm so so so sorry for being late for one week and three hours ohmygod. I barely have time to write as is because of my work schedule, which has taken over my life in a way that exhausts me every day. This is far from my best chapter, and I'm so so sorry for that.

GIF Source

2019. New Rochelle.

Your eyes locked from the distance, and you realized it didn't hurt as much anymore when you looked at him. At the time of the unexpected run-in with Art in the elevator, old memories and long-buried pains came rushing back like tidal waves, reminding you that there used to be a time when the mere mention of his name would pull a reaction from you, the kind that was nestled deep in your guts and painful as its exterior would lacerate your insides as you tried to expel it. Now, being in this proximity with Art, there was only a dull ache. His gaze followed your every movement, burning hot on your skin as you approached him. When he settled down from across the table, you allowed your eyes to fully drink him in, to note the small changes that the brief exchange two days ago didn’t allow you to.

An abstract shadow cast on his face, shading in the sharp angles of his features, turning his boyish charm into the contemplative man sitting before you. He looked great, still, but he didn't look happier when he had every reason to be. The familiar yearning for the man you loved so much that you were willing to look the other way when the warning signs flared their signals tugged at your heartstrings, but you knew better now than you did thirteen years ago. Art was the baggage that took a long time to shed, the heartbreak that took a long time to recover from.

As much as you wanted to blame Art for ruining other men for you, but you knew you weren't innocent in this game of two. You couldn't bring yourself to commit to the few men you dated over the years before giving up dating entirely after a painful engagement. Your failure in relationships that came after Art was not a reflection of how you were still caught up in him. It was the way you loved like there was an expiry date to the love you gave.

You weren’t hungry and didn’t feel like eating, but you ordered an appetizer anyway. Art did the same, casually said to you after the waitress dropped off your drinks and went away with your food order.

“We can share.”

He had said it so casually. You didn’t correct him. The two of you took the time to observe each other in a comfortable silence before Art disrupted it.

“How have you been?”

“I’m doing good. My career took off.”

Just like you said. But you didn’t say that part out loud.

“So I’ve heard. I see your name everywhere.”

“It can be annoying, can’t it?”

You said, tongue in cheek.

“Never.”

A simple word, accompanied by a bright smile, yet you couldn't help but feel bashful at the undeniable pride that he radiated. It felt genuine, more than the time your parents demanded to see you in San Francisco. All of a sudden, as your book's sales kept climbing up and up, no distance was too much to drive for your parents. At a high-scale restaurant of their choosing, they swooned over your brilliance and told you how proud they were, that they knew you would succeed. You owed them your success, they said, since they brought you up and you wouldn't be here without them. They admitted none of the abuse, and they congratulated themselves on their talented daughter. Your dad eagerly asked about the money, and unashamedly rewarded himself and your mother a bonus from your royalties. To fix up the house, he said, and they needed a new car so they didn't have to drive the old thing that could croak any day. You only nodded, feeling numbness spread all over your senses and body like a self-defence mechanism. You ended up paying for the meal, telling them that they needed to contact your accountant for what they wanted. Knowing June, the accountant of your trusted team, she would die before giving your parents a penny.

On your part, after that day, you decided not to entertain them any longer. You chose to protect yourself, and that meant going radio silent on their calls and texts. Every once in a while, you would receive demanding messages, asking for compensation. None of them received an answer.

Art interrupted your train of thought.

“But how are you really doing? Are you still with–”

You shook your head quickly and cut him off.

“Same old. How about you?”

Your fingers ran over your naked ring finger almost in defence. Art could see your attempt at a distraction and he allowed it to slip past.

"I'm just … alright."

"Come on. You’re doing more than just alright for yourself."

He huffed, and its bitterness wasn't lost on you.

“Not as well as Tashi would like me to.”

You hummed, taking a sip of your soda.

“I could tell as much judging by what you told me at the hotel.”

Art offered a self-deprecating smile and said nothing. He said thanks to the waitress as she settled the trays of entries down. Neither of you was in a hurry to take a bite. You leaned back on the leather seat, barely concealing a weary sigh.

“What am I doing here, Art? If it’s to listen to your marriage problems, then I don’t think I’m equipped for that kind of task.”

“I don't expect you to do that."

He tapped on the glass of water distractedly, seeming to consider his words.

"I just want to tell you that you were right.”

“About what?”

“About Tashi.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was the truth, it always has been. Especially now. What you said about her.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what he was talking about. The fight between you before you broke up for good. You still remembered how you said Tashi was only using him. You dipped your head, feeling shame crawl to your cheeks.

“Look, it wasn’t my best moment, and I was harsh. I don’t know Tashi enough to talk about her like that.”

“But you were right. I just … didn’t think about it in the way you framed it. Her living through me because she couldn’t play. I ignored it because she made me a better player. For the longest time, I was okay with it."

You stayed quiet, watching as Art worked through the inner monologue in his head. Art didn't look at you, staring at the untouched plates of food instead, while his hand played with the straw wrapper. You had a feeling that he wasn't quite done.

"And then, I started to see … it. I can't remember a day that she didn't talk about tennis. The way she’s only happy when I win. She would reprimand me if I didn’t apply her guidance at times. I thought I could make her happy if I could be the person she wanted me to be. Still, I could feel it. Her resentment."

He swallowed before kept going.

“It was worse after my injury. I recovered from it, and she didn't. I think Tashi resents me for that as well. I’m still playing for the both of us, years later.”

You let the weight of his confession settle in. His shoulders slightly sagged, and you couldn't help but think about how he probably couldn't talk about this to anyone.

“Art, if you’re really unhappy, you can walk away. You know that.”

“I know, but we’ve been together for so long. It's not easy.”

You knew that feeling all too well. But that was where your difference split. You knew there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

Art looked at you, pondering over your question. A sad smile deepened in his frown lines.

“I thought I could talk to you, as a friend.”

“It sounds like you want something more.”

He licked his lips, contemplating his words.

“What if I did?”

You sighed, feeling memories of the past flapped their wings, overlapping with the present.

“What do you want me to say, Art? That I still love you and I want to run away with you? That's not who I am, and that’s not who you are, either. Deep down, you’re devoted to Tashi and your family. Look at you. You'll sacrifice your own happiness if that means your family can stay together. If it means staying with your wife even though you know she hates you. You’re not going to leave her.”

You knew that deep down because when he was with you, he yearned for Tashi. A part of him wanted Patrick, too, but it went unspoken due to the rivalry Tashi inspired. Yet, here he was, in this dimly lit restaurant, looking at you like you held the key to his heart, and if you said the words, he wouldn’t even question them. If you asked, he would leave this place with you.

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like if we were still together. I will be happier. Would we have our own family? A little boy, or girl …”

His words rattled you to the bones. You grabbed your drink and took a large sip. All of a sudden, you were the one that couldn't look at him, while Art was on the opposite. His eyes on you were electrifying one moment, and intruding the next. He could see something was off in the way you went completely silent. You only realized that you hadn't said anything for a long moment, until Art softly called your name. You swallowed the lump in your throat that wouldn't go away, trying to find the words that you barely used outside of therapy sessions and many phone calls with your sister.

“I can't– I couldn't have given you what you have now. Maybe a nice house. But not a family."

You took a steadying breath.

"I’m … I have … endometriosis.”

You received the diagnosis a little while after your engagement to Isaac, your now ex-fiancé. After over a year of dating, when things had been serious between you two for a long time, he expressed his want to have kids. You didn't want any and were firm on the matter. But Isaac was nothing if not a sweet talker with a sharp silver tongue. He made the idea of having kids sound easy. Even heavenly. Your book sale was better than good and with Isaac's rich background, you were more than comfortable to have a kid. You decided to go for it. The first positive pregnancy test came with a proposal from Isaac shortly after. You were nervous but happy, and Felix always looked at you like you were his golden ticket. That statement turned out to be true, you couldn't help but laugh at the irony when you realized it later on.

The miscarriage happened just almost a month after you found out that you were pregnant. Recovery was tough, and after running some tests, the doctor told you that you had endometriosis. Some things started to make sense. The painful cramps, nausea and prolonged fatigue. The nights spent upright in your bathtub and bedroom floor because you didn’t want to puke or bleed on your beddings. Isaac was pensive when the doctor broke the news, and his first question was if you could still get pregnant. The doctor responded with methods and treatments you could follow. But you didn't care for any of that anymore. The pain was all you could think about, its haunting memories plagued your mind. Your heart went completely numb when the searing pain took your breath away as you crouched on the floor of your bathroom. You could never forget the searing pain that sucked the air from your lungs as you collapsed to the floor of your bathroom, the sight of your clothes after you took them off. The bloody mess soaked through the materials and stained the white marble floor seared into your eyes while your heart pounded in your chest, knowing that something had gone very wrong. You needed time to recover, and possibly rethink the idea of having kids. But, Isaac, only a few days after you came back from the hospital, brought up many different sources and pamphlets and ideas on how he wanted to try different methods for kids right away. But you didn't want to. You didn't want to look at the evidence of your shortcomings, your harrowing experience with the pregnancy. But for some reason, Isaac insisted. When you asked if he wanted a baby or you more, he couldn't answer. You broke off the engagement, and Isaac moved out of your apartment two weeks after that.

A month later, Isaac's sister reached out to you, offering her sympathy and shedding some light on why he wanted to have a baby so badly. Their grandfather was old, dying, and most importantly, filthy rich. In his latest will, he stated that a part of his inheritance would be saved for his great-grandkids' education, paying for the best private schools in the country until they could go out into the world independently. Isaac wanted a cut of that money as well, and he needed to have a legitimate child to get a cut from his sister's two kids, who were the sole beneficiaries. It was another hard truth in a whirlwind year, and you thought that was the end of you. With the help of your sister, a few friends and a therapist, you eventually came out the other side. You poured your heart and time into your next book, forgot about dating, and kept on living the quiet life you craved.

After wrapping up the story, you glanced at Art to see his reaction. You were grateful to find compassion, and not pity as you had learned to expect from the few you told this story to. That was all you needed.

Art reached over the table and grasped your hand. You allowed his hand to linger on yours, his thumb caressed your skin soothingly. After a long moment, you pulled your hand away. Art pushed the dish of calamari forward, offering you a bite. You humoured him by taking a bite, feeling the crispy crumbs on your tongue. After the bite, you spoke with a resolve you'd learned from all these years.

“Tashi was who you wanted all these years ago. I knew it, even back then. You couldn’t quite break away from her.”

“I know, and it was unfair to you. But I hope you know that I truly loved you.”

You nodded. He didn't need to say it. A mutual understanding that was so deep that it would take both of you a lifetime to unlearn was something that you shared. Despite how your relationship ended, it didn't diminish your meaningful connection. The heart and mind were the strange and curious things despite their proximity to the body that contained them. You could control them in a way, but in the end, the heart wanted what it wanted, even though the morality deemed it wrong. You still cared for each other deeply, and even though years had passed since you last spoke, the connection was nurtured and forged in stone, becoming a part of your history that neither of you could ever forget. The concept was foreign, and you lived through it before you could truly understand it.

“Despite what happened, and I know I should hate you for it, but I’m glad that you got what you wanted. A great career. A family. Lily seems like a sweet girl.”

There was a touch of hesitation when Art spoke.

“She is. But there's … something else.”

You waited for him to go on. He eventually did, with doubt riddled his words.

“I think Tashi slept with Patrick after our engagement a few years ago.”

You blinked. You didn't anticipate that to come out of him.

“I was on a tour, and I … I couldn't sleep. She wasn't with me, so I went down to the lobby to find her. Then I saw her and Patrick sitting together. Someone distracted me, and when I turned around, they were gone.”

You considered your position, and decided to stay quiet.

“Maybe they went out for a smoke.”

“Tashi doesn’t smoke.”

“A drink, then?”

“There were two on the table by the time they left. Going to another place for drinks seems redundant. I’m not stupid, you know?”

You felt torn. Art deserved to know the truth, but it had to come from Tashi herself. You didn't want to meddle more than you had just by being here with Art and listening to the admission of how much he had missed you.

“Art. You have to ask yourself why you're thinking about the past and having doubts.”

When he didn't answer, you went on.

“Was it worth it to break your friendship with Patrick for Tashi? Are you happy with the choices you made?”

Art remained silent. He averted his eyes, a weariness weighed his shoulders down. You wanted to reach out, to almost say sorry for confronting him, but you kept your hands to yourself.

“It’s strange, how all of us are here.”

“Patrick is here as well?”

Art nodded.

“Yeah. I’m playing against him tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Like we’re still playing for Tashi’s number.”

A sarcastic chuckle left his lips.

“He’s still the same. Cocky. Overconfident.”

“And still somehow got under your skin?”

“No. We’re too old for that game.”

A tentative look passed Art's eyes, and you could almost tell what he was about to say.

“He said that you two ran into each other a few years ago.”

“We did.”

“He mentioned that you spent the night together.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing. What you did with him is none of my business.”

You sucked your teeth before letting it go with a soft cluck.

“It’s funny. After all these years, you still can’t say what you really want to say. At least, Patrick was upfront about wanting to sleep with me.”

“So, you two didn’t …”

You waved a dismissive hand.

“Relax. For the record, we didn’t. I still loved you then. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I know that I don’t have any right to feel jealous, but I can't help it.”

“You really don't.”

“I know. I’m the fucking worst."

You didn't feel the want to revel in the admission of guilt he had shown you. What you wanted to do was to tell him about how you felt after everything that happened.

“You really hurt me, Art. I couldn’t understand why you got engaged with Tashi so quickly after we broke up. I accepted why you wanted to be with her, but I couldn’t fathom the timing.”

“You broke up with me. And I desperately wanted to get over you. I was envious of Patrick and Tashi’s relationship for so long, and I wanted her attention for so long that I thought it was the only way to get over you.”

You sighed deeply, seeing the invisible repeating patterns that had started to resurface. You leaned over to the table and took his hand.

“You have to move on. If the three of you can’t find a way to be together, then you have to break apart. Don’t let this consume you. And stop punishing yourself. Tashi’s shortcomings aren’t yours to carry.”

Art nodded, his brows furrowed in a way that made you feel like he understood you completely. After a long moment, he turned to the jacket he left on the seat. You went to pull your hand away, but Art held onto it as if he didn't want to let you go. You let him hold you, running soothing circles on his skin. The evidence of his fidelity to Tashi gleamed under the dim light, and the solidness of it cut into your heart. He pulled out a badge and placed it in front of you.

“It’s for you. Come, see me play. I’d love to have you there.”

You shook your head.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please? I was hoping to have at least one person who has always been in my corner to be there.”

You rolled your eyes in good humour.

“You have plenty.”

“They’re not you.”

His eyes on you were serious and unwavering. You searched for an ounce of insincerity but came up with none. Eventually, you gave in with an exhale.

“Fine. I seem to have a soft spot for you.”

“I can say the same about you."

"Oh yeah?"

You whispered. Art locked you in with a searing look, arousing a warmth that spread all over your skin and inside. The space between you was compressed by a new proximity, so close that you could see the flutter in his long lashes.

"You are, somehow, still holding the best part of me. I have never stopped thinking about you.”

You reached out with your free hand and caressed his face. His lips kissed your palm, and you allowed him to linger for a moment.

“Too bad we aren't meant to be.”

/

Art drove you back to the hotel. Neither of you said too much, knowing everything was already laid out on the table back at the restaurant. You got out of the car first, and Art followed. You went in for a hug at the same time and met each other in the middle. His body was solid and warm, and a sense of wistfulness laved at your emotion receptor. Art wrapped his arms around you tighter, pulling you flush against him as if he didn’t want to let go. After a while, you broke apart. You walked away first since you didn't want to be seen together. Art called after you when you got into the elevator.

“I really hope to see you there.”

Your eyes locked to the very last moment. And then, you were alone with your reflection.

/

It was ten minutes past three in the morning. You fell in and out of sleep with Art's words echoing in your head. Frustrated and tired, you decided to seek a little assistance at the bar downstairs. You had about a finger of rum left when Tashi came in. You didn't bother to look away from her when she noticed you. She approached the bar and got herself a tea. You knocked back your drink and prepared to leave when she said.

“You know, I was surprised when Art offered to arrange the hotel.”

Your face was a blank slate. Tashi's carefully articulated what she wanted to show you.

“Then I found out that you were here as well.”

“I didn’t plan this.”

“I know. Art did. He saw an opportunity to see you and he took it.”

You met her pragmatic demeanour with your own unsentimental tone.

“Hm, sounds like you need to tighten your leash.”

“Look, I don’t care what he did, or has done with you tonight–”

“Does he need your permission for everything he does?”

“–as long as you don’t distract him from his game.”

She was unfazed. But so were you.

“Don’t worry Tashi. All we did was talk. I wouldn’t come between you two.”

You meant it, and Tashi's resolve softened. After a quiet standstill, she spoke with a sincerity you didn't expect.

“Art keeps tabs on you. He reads your books. He even annotates them.”

You were about to shrug her off when she said it.

“He still has the scarf you made him.”

The scarf. How could you forget? Taken aback by her confession and Art's affection, you could only stare. You had to come to terms with the outcome of your relationship with Art a long time ago, and no matter how intimate the new details were, they no longer held significance. What difference would that make now? You shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re the one that he wants.”

The bartender nodded as you gestured for another drink.

“Take care of him. He really loves you. ”

“Then why do I feel like I’m still second to you?”

“I felt the same way when we were in college.”

You shared a rueful smile. Her outfit picked at your curiosity.

“Why are you out so late?”

“I went out for … a smoke.”

“In this weather?”

“I'm just … worried about tomorrow.”

“I see.”

You nodded and didn't question her any further. Tashi stood up from her seat.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

She left the bar, leaving you alone with your drink.

/

You arrived early, grabbing yourself a seat in a familiar spot. The bleacher was filled with people and even more whispers on how it was a fated match between Art Donaldson, who had been on a losing streak, and Patrick Zweig, whose career had never taken off. Started from the same place, yet they had two wildly different paths and ended up in this place today.It had been a long time since you saw a tennis match in person, and you couldn't help but feel a little excitement.

The tension was palpable, knowing what you knew. You caught the looks exchanged between Art and Tashi, and Patrick's sneaky glances between the two of them. After the first set, they went on a break with Patrick in the lead. Art's eyes roamed over the audience, looking for you. You waved, and his eyes brightened when he found you. He gave a soft smile and a subtle nod. Your eyes stayed on each other until he broke the connection first.

Everything changed in the third set. Patrick copied Art’s serve. The atmosphere shifted. Art didn’t react. When he served, the ball hit the back wall hard, and the shout he emitted was something you’d never heard from him. Primal. Pained. His gaze shifted from Tashi to Patrick, before settling on you. The sheer vulnerability behind his eyes was heartbreaking. He held your eyes for a brief moment before turning away to get a new ball. Tashi noticed that, and craned her neck to look at you. You gazed back at her, sharing the same confused expression that she wore. Something Patrick did trigger Art, and while you didn’t know what it was, you could understand the severity of it.

The match went on. It was the most intense game you had ever seen. Your heart hammered in your chest as the rally kept going. The distance between Patrick and Art grew smaller and smaller. Art jumped, and the movement propelled him over the net. Patrick dropped his racquet, catching Art as he descended. Tashi’s scream pierced through the crowd's cheer. You exhaled in relief. It was something you’d never witnessed before. Based on Art and Patrick’s faces, it was the closure they needed. You stood up from your seat and left. You didn't need to know who won at the end. Something was unlocked between the three of them, and it was all you needed to see.

You didn't see Art’s longing gaze as he tried to find you in the audience when the match was over.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We are back in the flood, with three (!) new Japanese QLs starting this week (we will be patiently waiting for @isaksbestpillow’s excellent subs on the new GL, so I’ll cover that next week), on top of our three ongoing shows. Three of these are streaming weekly on Gaga, with two provided via fansub (feel free to ask if you don’t know where to find them).

Love in the Air Koi

The much anticipated Japanese remake of Love in the Air is here, and it's off to a strong start! I'm a fan of the Thai original despite its flaws, and I am hopeful that a remake can elevate the core of the story while shedding some of the sillier plot aspects and filler. This first episode did exactly that, executing all the important beats of the original first episode in half the time, and establishing our core characters and their dynamics quite well. The casting is good all around, but Nagumo Shoma is perfect as Arashi, and he and Rei have good chemistry. I will look forward to this one every week.

Our Youth

Another strong start right out of the gate! This drama seems to be a second chance romance of sorts. We begin with Minase in present time (narrating about how he and Hirukawa can only communicate via letters, which I suspect may be incarceration-related?) before traveling back six years to high school to see their relationship unfold. Minase is a wealthy but lonely top student who teachers adore, Hirukawa is a poor and abused kid who teachers have already written off as a lost cause, and they are inevitably drawn to each other when Minase witnesses some of the horrible things Hirukawa is dealing with and keeps his mouth shut about it. This drama feels confident about the story it's telling and it's so beautifully shot. Hirukawa already has my heart. I especially like that his characterization feels nuanced and specific rather than archetypal; he is troubled but he's not a bully, and rather than rejecting care, he seeks it out from someone he perceives as trustworthy. I am along for this ride and excited to see where Minase's perspective takes us.

Smells Like Green Spirit

Ow, my heart. This week town gossip spread like wildfire about Mishima and Kirino's supposed romance, and both had a heart to heart with their mothers about it, with wildly different results. While Mishima's wonderful mother affirmed that she knows who he is and wants him to be happy and live his truth, Kirino was shamed and guilted by his homophobic wreck of a mother. We already know how much her grief weighs on him, and her inability to accept him will surely make things hard for him going forward. It was lovely to see he and Mishima escape together to their Shangri-La, however briefly, but I also felt sad that he kept his painful experience to himself rather than confiding in his friend. I just want them both to be okay. Yumeno also had a coming out of sorts, and while I was happy to see another supportive mother, I thought it overcrowded the episode to shove that in, too, especially with lots of time also spent on the villagers. I would have liked the focus to stay more tightly on our besties.

Love is Like a Poison

Welcome to the battle couple era!! Shiba and Haruto are settling into couple life (adorably), and Shiba is defiantly claiming Haruto as his partner for anyone who cares to know. And this week we get what we've been waiting for, as the story sets up the final boss, who appears to be an enemy of both Shiba and Haruto (the former professionally, the latter personally). Haruto is still not telling his Ryo-kun what he's driving after, but we got some helpful hints at the end of this episode about what is ultimately motivating his scamming. I am so excited to see them team up again to take this guy down.

Chaser Game W

I’ll keep this brief. This sequel season had little purpose, with a plot that changed randomly from week to week. They capped it off with a finale that made an insulting mockery of the homophobia real same sex couples in Japan face. This show sticks out like a sore thumb on this list of otherwise excellent Japanese queer media, and I’m very glad it’s over.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Fall In Love With A Girl

���she'll make you feel like the world is on your shoulder.❞

Summary: What can go wrong, will go wrong. That is until you meet the most beautiful woman you've ever seen and her brother's puppy.

Pairing: Modern Helaena Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~3.3k

Author’s Note: This is a re-write of an old fic of mine. I'm in my re-writing era and this is Megan's Version. I felt like this would be the perfect time to remind everyone that I love women.

Warnings: language, fluff, women loving women (if you are against this unfollow me?)

There were certain rules to being a veterinary technician.

Number one, waterproof mascara and eyeliner always; you’ll never get used to those abuse cases or having to hold someone’s hand as they say goodbye to their beloved pet. Number two, carry a lint roller on you at all times; it’s best to get the pocket-sized one, because both dogs and cats shed a lot! Especially Bella the Saint Bernard who was due for her yearly check up today. Number three, iron your scrubs! And it’s probably best to keep an extra pair in your car, because it’s more likely than not that you’ll end up getting peed on by someone’s over-excited pup.

Even though you knew these rules by heart and you followed them every single day of your work life, today was an exception. It was just one of those days that absolutely nothing- no matter how hard you tried- was going right. You were covered in fluffy cat hairs, Mrs. Comier’s Jack Russell, Hankie, peed on your leg twice, and you had run out of waterproof mascara. So, when Mr. Langley brought in his thirteen year old Labrador to put her down, he cried and so you cried, and in the end you looked like the raccoon that liked to sneak into the office dumpsters at closing hoping to find some cat food.

Today just wasn’t your day.

It was fifteen minutes until closing time, and you could feel the excitement and exhaustion in your bones. You were desperate for rest, to go home and take a shower, crawl in bed and watch terribly written romantic comedies on Netflix until you passed out. If only you could snap your fingers and make those last few minutes fly by, but that was impossible and unfortunately manipulating time wasn’t a superpower you had acquired yet, so instead you swept and mopped the floors for the sixth time that day.

And that was when you heard it. 

The tiny bell over the door chimed, signaling that a customer had just walked in and you could hear the pitter-patter of doggie feet on the linoleum floors. As far as you knew, there weren’t any more customers scheduled for the day; the last appointment was over thirty minutes ago and they were a no-show. From your spot in the back hallway, you could hear your coworker, talking to the patient and before you knew it, she was charging through the back door. You took one look at her, knowing what her question would be before she even opened her mouth. That shit-eating-grin was always plastered on her face when she wanted something. 

“No,” you said as you swept the dirt into the dustpan.

“Come on, bestie,” she whined. “I really need to get out of here on time tonight! It’s just a simple check-up and she seems really nice! Please will you take them?” 

Not wanting to argue or cause an issue, you sighed, exhaling every ounce of oxygen in your lungs before finally giving in. She was practically beaming with excitement as your shoulders slumped, eyes rolling back as you sat the broom down. 

“Oh, my God! Thank you so much! I owe you, big time,” she went to hug you but you stepped to the side, avoiding her embrace at all costs. 

You simply nod at your coworker as you try to dust some of the cat hairs from your scrubs. It was no use, and you knew that, but still, you at least tried to look more professional. After the day you’ve had, you should have known that clocking out on time was just too good to be true, but you still put a smile on your face as you walked up to the front desk. One day you’d cash in on all of the times she owed you for, but today wasn’t that day. Everything that could have gone wrong today had already gone wrong, and at this point you were only giving in to her for the plot. What else could possibly happen? 

When you got to the front desk, you looked over the counter to see the customer on one knee as she played with the tiny puppy; rubbing its belly and tickling its sides. 

“How can I help you?” You asked with that fake customer service voice.

The young woman turned around and looked up at you, flashing one of the most brilliant smiles you had ever seen, and you could have sworn that a chorus of angels were singing in the background– or maybe it was just the classical music on the radio that your boss liked to play, who knows? She was absolutely stunning though, with her pale blonde hair and striking lavender eyes. 

“Hey, uh- I had an appointment for this little guy,” she replied with a soft smile as she moved to stand.

“Okay,” you nodded, trying to remember to breathe. You could smell her perfume as she took a step up to the counter. “What’s this little guy’s name?” 

“His name is Sunfyre.”

“Oh,” you realized that this was that no-show appointment that should have been here thirty minutes ago. It was then that you looked right past her good looks and lilac scented perfume and let the irritation settle back in. “You’re Mr. Targaryen? You had an appointment with us at 5:00.”

The woman rubbed a hand on the back of her neck and gave you a sheepish smile.

“Not Mr. Targaryen, that’s my brother. I’m Helaena,” then she lets out a sigh. “He’s out of town and forgot to mention that I needed to be here until ten minutes before I was supposed to be here and then there was traffic, and I’m really sorry that I’m late. I hope I can still get him in, I mean, if that’s okay. If it’s too late then I’ll just make another appointment, I guess”

Your eyes widened as she rambled on and then you smiled at her. If it were anyone else, you probably would have told them to make another appointment and kick rocks. But this girl was just so gorgeous and her smile was just so beautiful, and your hopes of getting home on time were already sacked, so you led her back to the exam room and told her that it was no problem.

“Hopefully this doesn’t take too long,” she mentioned as she picked Sunfyre up and sat him on the table. 

Wait, was she actually rushing you?

“I’ve got this stupid thing I’m supposed to go to tonight,” she continued as you checked the puppy’s weight.

She really was rushing you.

“It’s a blind date that Aegon, uh-”

Before she could say ‘Mr. Targaryen’, you nodded your head to let her know that you understood who she was talking about. 

“Yeah,” Helaena kept on, not really caring that you weren’t really listening. “He set it up and I’m just nervous. I’ve never really been on a date- well, I’ve been on dates, but never a blind one. With the way this day has been going, he’ll probably end up being an alien with six eyes.”

“I know how you feel,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“Oh, I just agreed with you,” you replied, not really wanting to go into details about your day with a girl who was about to go on a blind date and probably fall in love with someone that wasn’t the vet tech with a piss stain on her leg. Besides, her blind date was with a man which meant your chances were pretty much shot. “About the way this day has been going.”

“You’ve had a bad day, too?”

“I’m going to let Dr. Strong know you’re ready and we’ll try to get you out of here as soon as possible,” you say, ignoring her question. 

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” she replied as you shuffled out of the exam room.

Your boss looked up at you from his desk and raised his eyebrows underneath his glasses. You said nothing and only dropped the puppy’s chart on his desk with a thud, before turning back around and heading into the back hallway. You could hear that Helaena girl sweet talking the pup from behind the door and your expression softened for a moment. But that was only until you glanced at the clock and saw that it was well past closing time, and you should’ve been walking through your front door right now; maneuvering out of your bra and kicking off your non-slip, worn out tennis shoes. Your frown came right back as you looked over the front desk, making sure everything was in order before your boss eventually called you in for an extra hand. 

You sighed as you saw that your coworker had bailed on stamping the outgoing bill statements, a job which was tedious and tiring, and usually ended in cramped hands and sticky fingertips. With a soft groan, you sat down, flexing your toes in your shoes and tried to quickly stamp as many envelopes as you could.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dr. Strong called from somewhere within the office. “Can you lend me a hand for a moment?”

You stood up and tossed the envelopes in the mailing bin before heading towards the back hallway. 

“What’s up, doc?” You asked with a forced grin as you tried to lighten the mood. Your boss, Harwin, had been under constant stress ever since his partner veterinarian, Dr. Tully, quit the practice to focus on his family. 

“Can you draw me up 1cc of Nobivac?” He asked as he scribbled something down in the chart in front of him. “And I’m going to need you in the room when I administer it, there’s a note in the little guy’s chart that says he’s not very good with shots.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied as you pulled the keys to the medical cabinet out of the front pocket of your scrubs.

Helaena smiled at you when you entered the exam room once again. The puppy in her hands jumped in your direction, tail wagging from side to side as he whined for attention. “I think he likes you,” the girl commented as she tried to hold the puppy back. 

“That’s nice,” you replied with a soft smile, not really wanting to make small talk with Ms. I-Have-A-Blind-Date-Can-You-Hurry-Up. “But he’s probably not going to like me very much after getting poked.”

“Probably not,” Helaena laughed. You couldn’t help but feel a little light-headed at the sight of her smile, despite your tough facade. The sound of her laugh was just as attractive, if not more so. “But who knows, maybe he’ll forgive you.”

Dr. Strong stepped into the room, cutting your conversation short to begin his own spiel; informing Sunfyre’s short term owner of the possible side effects of the rabies vaccine, and also why it is important to have one. Information that, hopefully, Helaena would pass on to the absent Mr. Targaryen.

While your boss prepped the puppy for his first rabies shot, your job was to try and distract the little guy as much as possible and to keep him comfortable, of course. Helaena stood off to the side, letting the two of you work your magic, and within seconds- without even so much as a yelp- the procedure was finished and Sunfyre’s tail was still wagging. 

“All done,” you cooed, placing a kiss on the puppy’s wet nose. 

“Looks like he still likes you,” Helaena said as she hooked Sunfyre’s leash back to his collar. “I had a feeling he would.”

You went to say something, but Dr. Strong got there first, sticking his hand out to Helaena for a handshake and saying, “It was nice to meet you. Please tell Mr. Targaryan that we look forward to seeing him at the next visit, which you can coordinate at the front desk.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

“You can follow me, this way,” you told her, ushering her and Sunfyre out of the exam room and into the lobby. “That’ll be $115,” you told her after tallying up the total sum of the visit. 

She let out a low whistle and pulled her wallet from her back pocket, “is there any way to leave a tip for your excellent customer service?”

You let out a dry laugh, and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something that would get you in trouble. “While I appreciate the offer, you should probably save it for your date tonight.” 

“Date?” She asked as she signed the credit card receipt. “Shit, right, my date!” She exclaimed, thrusting the tiny piece of paper your way. “I gotta go!”

You made a face and hurriedly handed her a copy of the bill and a rabies tag for Sunfyre. 

“Good luck,” you told her as she rushed out the front door. “And you're welcome,” you said with a frown after she didn’t even say ‘thank you’. 

Happy that your day was finally over, you couldn’t help but feel like you had just been kicked in the gut. As you finished stamping the monthly statements, your mind was stuck on what Helaena and her blind date– who may or may not be an alien with six eyes– were doing right now. Was he smart? Was he making her laugh? Did he appreciate how absolutely breathtaking her smile was? Did she see him and immediately know that he was the one she had been searching for? Did time stop?

“Hey,” you heard Dr. Strong’s voice from behind you and realized that you had been standing in the same spot for minutes now, holding a stack of envelopes that you had meant to drop into the bin. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied as you came back to reality.

“Don’t forget you’re fostering Nugget tonight to make sure that he doesn’t pull out his stitches,” he told you before disappearing back into the hallway. 

“Ah, yes, Nugget,” you replied, mostly to yourself, as you were sure your boss was out of earshot. “The overweight Chihuahua who looks like he ate one, too many nuggets. I couldn’t be more excited.”

After you locked up and had Nugget on a leash, you said your goodbyes to your boss; happy as ever that- even though it was well after dark- you were finally going home. You picked the chunky Chihuahua up, making sure not to touch his freshly removed manhood and placed him in the backseat, where he quickly made a home. Before you even pulled your seatbelt on, you pulled your hair out of its ponytail and ran your fingers over your tender scalp. It was the first step to comfort after what you were sure was the worst days you might have ever had. You’d take your shoes off if you could,, but you were sure there was some crazy law about driving barefoot, so you left them on.

Nugget stayed quiet for most of the way, until he unexpectedly started to whine. Thinking that he might need to go potty, you pulled over into the parking lot of an ice cream parlor. He hopped out of your backseat gingerly, and led you over to the grassy area where he proceeded to squat and relieve himself. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” you heard from across the parking lot and turned to see none other than Mrs. Blind Date herself, Helaena. Just when you thought this day was starting to get better, she began walking toward you with Sunfyre in tow.

“Oh, hi,” you replied, cautiously looking around for the hot shot that would inevitably be introduced as her date. You didn’t want to ask, but curiosity got the best of you and, “how was your date?”

“Well, I was supposed to meet him here and he never showed,” she replied, looking a bit dejected. “I’m honestly not surprised at all. I mean, if you knew my brother, you probably wouldn’t be surprised either. Besides, what else should one expect from a man?” You laughed at that. “I was just about to leave, but then I saw you, and figured I’d say hello.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling again at her rambling, unable to help yourself when you heard that there was no date, and that this extremely attractive stranger was somehow still single. “Well, hello.”

Helaena smiled brightly before taking notice of Nugget, who was shaking at the thought of being petted by someone new, and dropped down to a knee so that she could reach him. “Who’s this little chunker?”

“This is Nugget,” you replied. “I’m fostering him for the night.”

“Fitting name,” she laughed, standing back to her regular height. “So, can I buy you an ice cream? I don’t think I said thanks before I ran out of your office earlier and I’d like to make it up to you.”

“Sure,” you replied quickly before you gave yourself a chance to say no. “I mean, yeah, that would be nice.”

Helaena smiled as you fell in step with each other, making your way to the front of the booth. Sunfyre and Nugget were playing with each other; romping around and playing together; putting you and Helaena into a few awkward positions as you had to unwrap their leashes from around each other’s legs. You learned that she was an artist, mostly oil paintings and photography, who lived on the quiet side of the city with Aegon, her brother. And you told her all about your bad day, and what it was like working in a veterinary office, and some of your funny stories from college. 

Before you could even eat three bites of your ice cream, Nugget had coerced you into giving him most of it; which probably wasn’t what his actual owners intended for him to eat after his surgery. Helaena didn’t mind that the ice cream she had bought for you went to satisfying a fat Chihuahua’s sweet tooth, especially not when most of her own ice cream was being lapped up by little Sunfyre.

“Well, I should get home,” you told her after seeing the neon ‘open’ sign of the parlor shut off. “It’s getting late.” 

She nodded, standing up from the bench that you had been sitting on, “It was really nice running into you.”

“I agree,” you replied with a smile. 

“If you’d like to, maybe I can take you to dinner next?” She asked as she nervously ran a hand through her hair. You blinked a few times, wondering if you had heard her correctly or if it was your mind playing tricks on you. “You don’t have to.”

“I’d like to go to dinner with you,” you told her quickly and honestly. 

“Really?” She asked excitedly. “I mean, that’s cool.”

“Should we?” You asked, taking out your phone to swap numbers and she laughed.

“That’s probably a good idea.”

You repeated the numbers twice to make sure she typed in the right ones, and after an awkward hug that seemed like it was almost a kiss on the cheek, you and Nugget happily walked back to your car. As soon as the driver’s side door was shut, you let out a joyous squeal and did a small dance in your seat. Your phone vibrated from the cup holder as you shifted into gear. You picked it up quickly and swiped at the screen until an unsaved number popped up on your screen. Your heart soared at the message that could only have been from one person.

212-555-6789

That was the best blind date ever! ;)

[skywalkr-nberrie]

There are some gems for Anidala in the Junior ROTS novel (which is basically a simplified version of the movie and novel) and I once again wish to dump it onto our fandom.

Padmé and Anakin reuniting after 5 months, Anakin saying he feels complete by just holding and kissing his wife and her telling him that now she’s “whole again” 🥹 it’s giving “they are a pair, please do not separate.”

Anakin not being able to keep his hands off his wife, Padmé being the only sane one in this pair and slipping away. The “patience, my handsome Jedi.” Anakin not caring and reaching for her again before Padmé can escape 🤣 and of course, slowly moving into the pregnancy reveal, Anakin senses something is off about Padmé, and she tells him how alone she’s felt ever since he left and that it was truly very hard for her. 🥺

Give these two a 6 month vacation twice a year every year, please and thank you.

(This passage is badly cropped here, forgive me.)

I love this part in the novel because it sheds light a bit on how Padmé felt when Anakin told her of his vision. In the movie and original novel, it mostly centred around her trying to comfort Anakin, but here we see that Anakin is letting Padmé know he saw a vision about her dying, and Padmé becomes visibly tense and feels a “cold chill.”

Her natural instinct was to reach for her Japor Snippet that Anakin had carved out for her and I think this indicates how this tiny piece of wood brought her so much hope, and comfort in her times of despair. It makes sense why she was holding onto it so tightly when she was dying and giving birth. I feel like it played as a substitute for Anakin’s presence.

I’ve seen some people ask about why Padmé was crying during the Temple burning scene in the movie, and I never thought it could be more obvious. In the original script for ROTS this was the interaction between Padmé and 3pO:

So we know Padmé was crying about Anakin after 3pO confirmed he returned to the Temple. And in the above passage I posted from the Junior novel, we see how Padmé was indeed worried sick over Anakin, feeling a wave of relief when she sees a Jedi starfighter land on her Veranda. She rushes over to Anakin, asking him if he’s alright, that she needs to hear from his mouth that he’s okay, despite that she can see that he’s physically alright and doesn’t at all look to be harmed.

I simply love this passage because of the faith Padmé has in Anakin’s loyalty to her, and how well she knows him. Padmé never once doubted him and it’s astonishing to me that people say she trusted others over him, when this is her innermost true feelings for him. And the way that she knows Anakin is loyal to people and not politics. She knew he was loyal to her, and she knew he was loyal to OW, which is what triggers her question about him. And because of this, she feels the an odd way about the way he mentions the Senate and the Chancellor. She feels her real husband slipping into something she can’t recognize and it scares her.

Padmé at this point has lost almost all her faith in the Republic, feeling the war will never end so I just love how she narrates here that knows she can believe in Anakin even if she lost faith in everything else. Once again the subtle mention of the unwavering trust that Padmé has in Anakin.

One of the most painful moments in the movie, praise to this passage shedding more light on Padmé’s feelings and anger towards OW for all he’s saying about Anakin, it is beautifully captured. The way she looks at OW accusingly, begging him to deny her accusations, overcome with the horror that he’s about to kill the love of her life. It’s too much for her, and this is the start of the end.

(This is it for now. There are more I wanted to post but I’m at my limit 🥲 I’ll probably make a follow up post again.) - 🌈☔️

[forthechubbies]

Love Thy Husband

Kingpin's Son!San x Innocent yet spicy! Chubby! Wife

You arrived adorned in luxurious fabric bought with their bloody wealth. You are not just a gift, but a treasure...a plaything acquired for the pleasure of the rightful heir to the Choi dynasty.

Choi San.

II: Bring Me Home ♡ *New*

⚠️ Language, forced marriage, San is a good boy with bad habits, Yn conceals her face with a veil....and San is feral for your modest dressing style. No peep show for San 🙃⚠️

The purpose of a wedding photograph is to immortalize the beauty of that specific moment. Yet, when you stumble upon your own image, it triggers memories of your past yet your in laws so proudly display pictures all over their home. She was abducted by the man she now calls father to settle a overdue debt owed by her birth father.

You shed a tear, remembering your grim past.

As their son finally arrived at the mansion, he discovered his hidden surprise - a gift waiting for him. Despite the mysterious ivory veil that concealed her face, he agreed to accept her without hesitation. Little did he know, the veil was a humble plea from your father, who wished to shield his princess from the dark and dangerous world of the mafia.

The day unfolded before your eyes, obscured by the delicate ivory lace that draped over your face. Gripping the bouquet of baby's breath tightly, your heart pounded as the groom tenderly lifted the veil, allowing it to hover just above your trembling lips.

San's name escaped his lips in a hushed tone, barely audible against the backdrop of your rouge painted lips. Instead of forcefully pulling you towards him, he leaned in, delicately pressing his lips against yours. In the midst of this tender moment, he unintentionally crushed the bouquet.

The kiss, though seemingly pleasant, bore a resemblance to the innocence of toddlers exchanging affectionate pecks. He delicately pressed his lips against your flushed ones, refraining from any further advances. Despite his family now viewing you as his possession, San even restrained himself from touching you.

From that moment on, the vibrant world outside became a distant memory, The majority of your existence now revolves around the presence of your husband, consuming your every waking moment.. Who frankly you couldn't wrap your head around! One moment he’s stern and hostile the next, he’s a sweetheart gentlemen.

Speaking up the devil, There he is, Your phone icon alarmed you of husband’s incoming call. You rolled your eyes before answering. “Hello, San-"

"Omo..you sound like your about to die or worse." San complained under his breath. " You realize I'm your husband and not the grim reaper, yeah?" You could hear his blood simmering.

"Oh, you really had me fooled," you sarcastically remarked. Suddenly, you gasped, gripping your phone tightly, only to berate yourself for your own foolishness right away.

San’s brow involuntarily twitched, disturbed by the sass that escaped your cheeky lips. "What was that?... My dearest," he uttered with a tone that never ceases to send chills down your spine.

You carefully approached him, using his nickname in a soothing tone, "San..nie?" hoping to ease his anger. "My dear husband,” You’re cheeks reddening in embarrassment for actually fearing your husband’s wrath…some would say it should the other way around.

The phone went quiet briefly, only for your man to let out a chuckle that stirs up your fury, playing with you effortlessly. "Impressive, Sannie?.." He arches his eyebrows, making you squeal as he exhales his rugged accent over the line. "Sweetheart, I had no idea you could be this adorable." He taunts you in your mother language.

You are completely oblivious to the depths of your husband's affection for you. His love for you knows no bounds and shines brightly in every aspect of your life.

Especially your body....of what you allow him to see.

You feel safer when concealed from the sun, the man's wild gaze fixated on your delicate ankles and soft hands, pretending to be strong against his threats. You resist him so feebly, he longs to tear off your veil, granting you the illusion of courage to sass him, walk away mid-conversation, and disregard his presence as if he's not a menacing figure linked to the Atz, with his father just a phone call away from silencing your weak father permanently.

"I adore you, Mrs. Choi!!!" Wooyoung's voice echoed through the air, a mix of excitement and mischief. He sprinted towards San, seeking refuge behind him. "That asshole busted my lip," he growled, feeling the sting of his bloody lower lip. But despite the pain, he couldn't help but flash a mischievous smile at his friend, casually draping his arm over his shoulder. "So, how's the lovely wife doing?"

San sound shocked. “ How did you know I was-“

Wooyoung simply grins and nods. "You're adorable when you talk to her," he says with a mischievous smile, teasing his embarrassed friend.

The next thing you know you hear Wooyoung wince in pain, you assumed San hit him like usual followed by "Arghhh!!" Wooyoung biting him as a response.

"Don't fucking bite me, ya little bastard!" San's accent made you flinch, your Korean is far from perfect, and most of the time his words go unnoticed or you simply stare at his lips out of sheer cluelessness. But hey, it's not your fault. You were forcefully taken away from your family and thrown into this marriage with just weeks later.

"Ya! Who are you cursing at, cunt!?!” Wooyoung yelled in response, only to be met with a menacing voice hurling threats at them..

San's eyes gleamed with mischief as he glanced at the towering goon. "Hey, Woo, is this your buddy?" he asked, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Sorry, Honey, gotta go," he said, his voice dripping with allure as he abruptly ended the call. The unmistakable sound of San ruthlessly overpowering the goon echoed in the background.

Overwhelmed by the harsh truth, you found yourself standing in complete silence, consumed by the weight of this new reality.

[spookysteddie]

Call It What You Want

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!reader

18+ Minors DNI

part two

cw: unsupportive parents, hint at mentally abusive mother, negative media attention, talk of sex tape, food mentions (they go on a dinner date), reader is in therapy. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.8k

a/n: I've decided to make this a series that is loosely based off of reputation by Taylor swift. It literally all came to me in a dream last night lmao. If anyone has requests for these two and wants me to create lore pleeeeaaaseee request it. This is so fun for me!

...

Do not disturb was the best thing that could’ve ever been added to phones. Specifically because, without it, you would’ve gotten less sleep than you did (thanks to Eddie). 

Your phone is filled with messages, emails from the press asking for comments and messages from your parents. You’re barely awake before checking the tabloids and, as expected, you and Eddie are the top headlines. Everyone has something to say about your escapades last night, videos of you at the concert, photos of you getting out of the car with him and videos from the club. 

Social media influencer and rockstar Eddie Muson seen out together since miss Asher confessed her love for him

Good girl y/n Asher and Bad Boy Eddie Muson spotted together 

Is y/n Asher going down a dark path?

Social Media influencer shedding her good girl image as she parties with Corroded Coffin

You knew there would be some drama associated with you partying with the band. You knew there would be fans who would be disappointed in you. You also knew there was a high possibility someone would have photos of you around little white lines, leading to some assumptions about you. 

You didn’t care. 

You check your parents texts next and your stomach drops.

Momma: What are you doing out with that man?! Do you know his reputation? 

Papa: The last thing you need is your reputation being ruined! You will ruin your future if you continue with him.

The phone is taken out of your hand before you can respond to them, Eddie locking it and placing it behind you before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving light kisses on your bare skin. 

“You shouldn’t read what those pricks have to say.” He continues to leave kisses along your skin, “most of them talk out of their asses and don’t understand.” 

He’s right, of course you know that. You’ve had the most misogynistic shit written about you that you knew they would never write about the man behind you. You could smile weird and all of a sudden you’re the biggest cunt ever. You can never win. 

You sigh, settling into his hold. It’s not that you care about your reputation, shit like that changes faster than the weather and it’s not worth it to stress about it. But also, this is your job and the last thing you need is to lose sponsorships because you’re fucking Eddie. 

“I know. It’s just annoying cause no one is writing mean shit about you. It’s always about me and my life.” 

He hums, “nothing like good old fashion misogyny.” He says it with a shit load of sarcasm, knowing misogyny is not a good thing at all. But it makes you giggle all the same. 

“Wait!” You sit up, almost smacking him in the face with your head, “the poll! I wanna see it.” 

He grins as he hands you your phone. You ignore your parents, deciding you’ll deal with them later, and open up instagram. You win by a landslide, 86% of your followers voted you as prettier. 

Eddie laughs behind you. You turn to look at him, a huge grin on your face, “you owe me a date, Munson.” 

His eyes fall to your lips, making you lean in a little closer, “hows tomorrow sound?”

“Perfect,” you whisper as you close the gap and kiss him. 

… 

You can’t avoid your parents by the time you get home. They’ve been calling you for hours (hours you spent tangled up with Eddie in his bed). You know for a fact that it’ll be worse if you continue to ignore them. 

They answer within the first ring, “About time you called us back. We’ve been calling you for hours!” 

“Yes, momma, I know. I was busy with Case and Anna.” 

You hear her exasperated sigh from your mother, “yeah? For what? Cleaning up the mess you made last night?”

You’re trying to keep your composure, not wanting to yell at your mother, no matter how many times she made you feel horrible about any little decision you made. She was still your mother. 

“Case and Anna knew about all of that. Ran it by them first like I’m supposed to do.” 

Your mothers attitude only grows, “so what they just approved of you running around with someone known to do drugs? Are you doing drugs? So help me God, y/n, if I find out your doing drugs, I will fly out th-” 

“Mom, I am not doing drugs. I went to his show, somewhere I’ve been before by the way, and then we went to a club. Which is something I do on the weekends anyway. I don’t see the big deal.” 

You hear her huff, “don’t you dare give me attitude, little girl.” You hate when she calls you that. It’s been her little tool your entire life. She's done it to make you feel small, to make you feel insignificant and, try as you might, it gets to you. 

“You better not be seen with him again, got it?” 

You can feel the anger getting to you, “mom, I am 25 years old. I don’t need you to tell me who I can and cannot date. He was very respectful actually. Didn’t pressure me to do anything. Now, I have some things to film before tonight.” You hang up before she can say anything else, throwing your phone onto your vanity and running your hands down your face.  

Hana clears her throat from where she’s leaning against the door frame. You know she heard that entire conversation. You’d told her when you got home everything, including your parents non-stop calling.

She hands you a coffee, made just how you like, “how was that?” 

You take a slow sip, savoring the sweetness, “same old mom. Thinks I’m ruining my life and my reputation.” 

“Well, do you think you’re ruining your life and reputation?” 

This is one thing you love about Hana is she doesn’t baby you. Ever. She always allows you room to feel your feelings before she gives you her opinion. But she also makes sure you are able to give a name to what you’re feeling. And right now, you’re feeling frustrated. 

“No. Hana, he was amazing. He was respectful and he always asked what I wanted. And god the sex was fantastic,” you sigh wistfully. “And we’re going out on a date tomorrow. Just him and I. And I was really excited but of course my mother likes to ruin everything.” 

Hana sits on the chair next to the vanity, taking your hand, “Listen to me, if you have a good feelin’ about it, I say go for it. I didn’t get any strange feelings or vibes last night, the opposite really. Also, fuck a reputation. Taylor Swift’s was six feet in the ground and look at her now. Do what makes you happy.” 

You can feel the tightness in your chest, backs of your eyes burning. All you can do is pull her into a bone crushing hug.

… 

You’re pretty much over your mothers comments by the next night. Of course your therapist heard all the details and said, basically, exactly what Hana did. She also told me that I am an adult and I am more than able to make my own choices when it comes to things like drugs and alcohol.

She’s right of course. 

And so, because of this realization that isn’t a realization, you keep the date with Eddie. In fact you’re more than excited to go. To see him again. You filmed all your content, posting the other nights ‘spend the day with me’ video you made.

You’ve even gained a shit ton of followers as well, most of them fans of the bands. Now, don’t get it twisted, the uptick in followers also means an uptick in hate comments and unfollows. You don’t care. Those people are entitled to follow whoever they want and the mean people clearly just have a lot going on in life. It comes with the territory. 

Eddie, however, has texted you non stop and follows every single social media account you have. Even commenting on the videos and photos you posted. That got the press talking more and birthed a shit ton more butterflies into your belly. 

Eddie didn’t give you much information on what this date would be. All he told you was to dress nice and bring a jacket because it’s ‘getting chilly and you can’t catch a cold.’ You tried explaining that’s not how colds work but he wasn’t having it. And so, you pick out one of your favorite dresses, short and black that makes your tits look killer, with stockings that snap onto a garter hidden under your dress. Of course you added a long trench coat just to keep you warm. 

Eddie picks you up at 7pm on the dot, not a second later. Again, the bar is in hell because the fact that he is on time makes you want to kick your feet like a little girl. He looks delicious, dressed in his black jeans and a black button up. He grins when you open the door, the chilly night air tickling your legs.

“Give me a spin, Miss Asher,” he smiles. 

He takes your hand, spinning you around a few times. Once semi quickly and once very slowly, drinking you in like he’s been in the desert for years. It’s kindling to the fire inside your heart, warming you from the inside out. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He kisses your cheek, never letting go of your hand. 

You can feel your entire body heat, a shudder wracking through you. “You’re beautiful too. So, so, pretty.” 

You watch a blush tinge his cheeks, “no one has ever called me pretty to my face… and meant it.” 

He opens the door to his car as he speaks, making sure you don’t hit your head getting in before running around to the other side and settling in the driver's seat.

“Well, for the record, I do mean it. I mean, who in the hell looks that gorgeous first thing in the morning?” You giggle as you say it, fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

He takes your hand, squeezing it twice, “you.” 

That makes you smile the entire way to the restaurant. 

… 

This is the most beautiful date you’ve ever been on. 

Eddie had it all planned out perfectly. There was no press standing outside, waiting to take candid shots. He rented out the entire restaurant so that there would be no interruptions, just you and him and the small waitstaff. Flowers litter the floor, a small walkway leading to the table, a bottle of your favorite wine sitting in ice. 

You smile, looking up at him with hearts in your eyes. He can feel his heart racing, scared you aren’t going to like it or it’s too much or he’s scared you away. It feels like it’s forever before you answer him. “This is beautiful, Eddie. You didn’t… you didn’t have to do all this. But it’s so appreciated.” 

He gives you a swift kiss, his heart feeling like it’s going to burst, “you deserve it. You deserve to feel appreciated and cared for.” 

“Well, that is exactly how I feel right now.”  

Eddie pulls out your chair, letting you sit before he takes his own. The candles on the table flicker, casting Eddie in the most beautiful glow ever. He’s radiant, beautiful, and you don’t know how anyone could hate him. You felt like you could see his soul when he looks at you, kind, sweet, angelic. 

The waiter interrupts your thoughts, introducing himself and pouring the wine. And once all the food is ordered, it’s just you and Eddie. Suddenly, you’re nervous. 

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” You cringe slightly at the generic question. You’d talked to him all day yesterday between filming and his studio time. Releasing a new album takes a lot of time, more time than more people would think. 

“It was good. I feel like we finally have the sound we’re going for nailed down. S’gonna be similar to what we always do, of course. But I felt like, based off the songs we wrote, we needed a more,” he sipped his wine, thinking about how to describe the sound. “... sensual sound. Sexy if you will.” 

You giggle a little, “so you basically wrote about your groupies.” You’re joking, of course, not really caring about the people who came before you. Kind of. 

He raises his brows, shaking his head, “no. I actually spent most of yesterday rewriting the songs I wrote. Not all of them, but a good few.” 

“Oh! So did you record at all yesterday?” Again, it’s a generic question, but you’re genuinely interested in the process and how his mind works. 

He nods, “we did! It’s fucking thrilling to get what’s in my brain into actual art. I can’t believe I get to do this for a job.” 

Eddie's eyes practically sparkle as he talks about how exciting his job is. You love to see it, honestly. It’s the same look he gets when he’s on stage, fans screaming and singing the songs he wrote back to him. You can imagine that’ll get someone real high. 

He interrupts your thoughts, “can I ask you a question?”

You freeze, stomach falling to your ass. It’s never good when someone starts off like that. You grab your wine trying to hide your shaking hands, “yes of course!” 

“To me, it feels like there is something missing in a few of the songs. I’m pretty sure it’s y-your voice,” his stutter makes you feel a little better inside. He’s nervous. “So I was wondering if you’d wanna record some things with me?”

“Eddie, I can’t sing.” 

He smirks because you didn’t say no. “You don’t have to. I just need your voice. For the record, when I say record some things with me I don’t mean like sex videos… unless you’re into that.” You both laugh at how ridiculous he is, but a small pulse between your thighs tells you that you might be into making a little movie for just you and him. 

“While sex videos could be fun, that shit is so scary. Anyone can hack into whatever we use and boom… careers over. As for my voice, absolutely. I’m honored actually.” And you are. To have your voice be on something forever is so fucking cool. Of course, the internet is forever, but to you, it’s different when it’s music. 

“One more question…” 

You nod, motioning for him to continue. 

“Can I use your moans in a song?” 

You nearly choke on your wine, eyes going wide. “My-my moans? Like from when we have sex?” 

“Mhm. They are so fucking beautiful, baby. As much as I want to keep every part of you for myself, your moans would fit perfectly in this one song I have.” 

You have to be 50 shades of fucked up because you’re actually fucking touched that he thinks that part of you is pretty enough to put in his music. No one has to know if they’re real or not. And you don’t even have to answer the questions if anyone asks if it’s you. 

You laugh, shaking your head, “you, Eddie Munson, are crazy. I’m here for it but do you think your fans will like it? I don’t want you to do this just because we fucked the other night. I like you and you don’t have to put my anything in songs to get me to stick around. I don’t just like you because you make music.” 

He looks a little stunned, almost like he doesn’t believe you. “I… you don’t have to lie, baby. I mean, fuck, I’m not trying to call you a liar. I just am not used to people liking me as me. Usually they just want me because then it’s like a bragging thing. Not that, that’s what you are here for. Fuck, I am really fucking this up.” He rubs the back of his neck, his other hand clenched. 

You grab that hand, forcing yours into it and rubbing your thumb on his wrist, “I understand what you mean, Eddie. I’m not offended. But I mean what I said. I’m not here to further my career. I’m here because I’ve had a sickening crush on you for years. My poor friends have had to listen to me go on and on about it.” You laugh, feeling your face heat as you confess all this to him. 

“Really?” He looks like a boy, big, brown puppy eyes staring up at you. 

You nod, “really. Hana was ready to throw me a party because I finally got a date with you.”  

He laughs, the sound loud and from his belly. 

You decide right then that you will do whatever it takes to keep him forever.

[kairos-polaris]

a small study on how John could have asked Kiriona to be his cavalier

it's also on ao3

---

He brings it up casually, on one of the many occasions he invited you to have tea with him (he said it’s important to spend time with your children, that he is making up for the years he didn’t know about you). John Gaius says: "What do you think about being my cav? Wouldn't it be neat for you, my kid, my heir, to be my sword?" He looks at you and smiles at you kindly, the way you always imagined your mother smiling at you as you told her all about your life on the Ninth.

It is a sudden and unexpected question that makes you want to make stupid jokes. "One flesh, one end," your foolish mouth wants to say but you choke down on the words. You think about her and the time you swore yourself to her. You think of giving her your flesh, your end and your life. So, there is no need to mention the oath God wouldn’t care for anyway, not like you have anything life to give. Everything you have is owed to him anyway.

To be his cavalier, huh. You try not to think of his previous cav, no, you remind yourself, his current one. If he is offering he must not want her anymore, right?

Your dad takes your silence as a refusal so he smiles in that awkward manner unbefitting for God, his now familiar attempts in pretending he is just a guy. He takes your hand and squeezes it gently. He says: "Of course I understand if you would rather not. I know how much Harrow means to you and how devoted you are to her. I do not mean to try to take her place in your heart."

Except he is, you think absently, God wants you to turn to him and to love him the most because he is a selfish man who has lost everyone who has ever loved him (his own fault, really an incessant voice buzzes in your head). What does he even know about the depth of your devotion to her?

Take her place.

God, your Resurrector, turned your body into a perfect construct, the final expression of the art of the Nine Houses; you are dead and you don't need to breathe nor can you cry. And the sole mention of her is enough to cause you to choke and your eyes to burn with tears they cannot shed.

"No! I would like that," you say and try to smile but the muscles in your face refuse to obey you. Your body is a construct that does not belong to you. "It would be neat," you reassure him and yourself, "to be your sword. An honour."

Your dad beams at you and holds his arms open. He is giving you a choice, he thinks, whether to accept his touch or not. But there is only one option for you. He will accept your rejection yet the sadness on his face will cause an all-devouring pit to open in your chest, a desperate need to apologise and take back your words. A need to please, to be good to your father, your God. And to avoid that feeling you are willing to accept his touch, to endure it, and to choke on the revulsion (he is your father and you love him as you know how to but he caused her pain and that you can't forgive. He was the one to say forgiveness does not exist, so maybe you can love and hate him all the same.)

And so you hug him (more like collapse into his arms and let him hold you for as long as he pleases; a pliant doll with limbs to arrange and position to his liking). It gets easier to bear with time. It's not like you don't want to be touched or hate being hugged. No, you hunger for it, crave it like a starved man craves food, dream of it like a man in a desert dreams of water. You want to be touched, even by Ianthe. It's just that there is a voice in your head that is more Gideon Nav, an indentured serf of the Ninth, than Kiriona Gaia, Her Divine Highness, the first of the Tower Princes. And that voice reminds you over and over of that night and all his lies revealed. You get better at silencing it the more time you spend with your God, your Resurrector, your father. You get better at fitting yourself into his arms. You wrap your hands around him tightly and rest your head on his shoulder.

"I would love to be your cavalier, if you'll have me," you repeat it just to hear yourself say it. You don't have to look to know he is smiling and a part of you, a treacherous, childish part of you, is happy he is pleased.

"It would be my honour," he says softly, casually and all you can do is lean into him further. "I love you," he says and all you can do is wish you could cry.

Later, he pulls away and tells you of what you will have to accomplish to become his cavalier. Open the Tomb, awaken Her and kill Her. “With your blood, you will succeed. You and only you can do it,” he says, his hand still on yours.

“You won’t be God if She dies,” you blurt out without thinking and cringe at yourself. He just laughs softly.

“I have been God for over a myriad, I am ready to become a man once again. And I don’t mind becoming mortal for you. Not God, just your father,” John says. “And your necromancer, but that’s not as important,” he adds a second later.

You feel dizzy and lightheaded. This is what you want, isn’t it? To be accepted by your father? To be chosen by someone, anyone? Your father is offering all of that and all you have to do is kill Her. Not like you haven’t thought of it already. He says, you can do it and you must believe him.

“I thought you loved her,” your foolish mouth says anyway and God sighs before you can take back your words.

“I loved her once, my Annabel Lee, but you are my daughter,” he says as if it explains anything. As if it means anything. “It is time for me to step down from the divinity she gave me and only you can make it happen. Make it quick, but kill her.”

He gently cradles your face and smiles at you. “I love you, Kiriona,” he says and, in his infinite patience, does not begrudge you when you don’t say it back.

[ky-yk]

delicate (hyj x f!reader)

genre: fluff || word count: 2.1k

author’s note: this is me trying (no pun intended) to manage my expectations and also stop my delusions in their wake, hope y’all enjoy ✊😔

war was over.

after fighting valiantly and shedding blood, sweat, tears, and your cold hard cash, you finally got to reap the fruits of your labor as you settled into your seat for taylor swift's concert in singapore.

you took it all in: the sea of seats slowly filling up, the excited chatter of swifties and casual fans alike, and just the entire scale of the production.

that didn't mean you weren't logical, though.

"goddamn, i'm far," you muttered to yourself in disbelief as you shook your head and took your phone out to pass the time. even while you were focused on your phone, you could vaguely make out the people settling into the seats around you out of the corner of your eye.

as time drew closer to 7 pm, you felt someone plop into the seat beside you, chest heaving and clearly exhausted from the rush. you turned to give her a once over: bucket hat pulled so far down her face you wonder how she even made to her seat, masked up to add to the air of mystery, but dressing to the nines yet so effortlessly. they're a swiftie, what'd i expect, you thought to yourself.

striking brown eyes, that's what.

your seat mate must've noticed your gaze on her as she looks up at you like a puppy, her eyes barely peeking out from under her hat. it's when she raises her hat up a little bit that you see her big brown doe eyes staring straight into yours, and you start questioning if you cured cancer in your past life because what do you mean i sit next to this beauty for a whole concert??

you notice that she’s trying to tell you something, but she might as well have said nothing because there was no way she could overpower the blasting speakers and the ruckus of the crowd. you raised your eyebrows as if to ask her to repeat herself. she shook her head with a smile as she leaned forward, which you took as a sign to do the same.

“i’m sorry for disturbing you, by the way,” your seatmate says sheepishly. but all you could do was stare dumbly at her as you try to process what the hell was happening.

okay what the hell not only does she dress well but she’s pretty AND she has a raspy voice?! lord god if you took me right here right now i wouldn’t be complaining, this is a lovely way to die.

“um, you alright there?”

“huh?”

you know maybe i should just die right here.

“oh! oh yeah, i’m alright,” you chuckled, trying to shake off the awkwardness. as she laughs along with you easily, you hope her pillow is always cold at night for choosing to ignore the awkwardness of being stared at.

“anyways, you get here safe?” she asks, trying to make small talk.

as you opened your mouth to reply, you both notice the crowd go wild as the lights go down and a video plays on screen. you look back at your seatmate with an apologetic look as she just shakes her head in amusement.

“looks like the show’s about to begin, huh?” she shouts at you while leaning forward to stand like everyone else in your section to get a better view of the stage. you followed her lead, but only after staring up in awe at your enigma of a seatmate.

you stood on your tippy toes to try to see what was happening on stage. your timing couldn't be more perfect since it just so happened that, at that moment, taylor finally came on stage, prompting everyone to holler and further blocking your view.

how'd you know?

your seatmate's screeches, that's how.

"OH MY GOD IT'S TAYLOR, TAYLOR'S ON STAGE!" she screamed at the top of her lungs as she jumped along with the rest of the crowd.

screamed at you, that is.

she repeatedly slapped your shoulder in excitement as your face morphed from surprise to exaggerated discomfort in a second and you doubled over.

"OW!" you yelled half-jokingly.

she looked at you with wide eyes as she ran her mouth off, held you close, and rubbed your shoulders while apologizing, but those went in one ear and out the other as you turned your head to get a better look at the girl.

her hat must've fallen off while she was jumping around, but you wonder why she was even wearing one in the first place because no one this pretty should be hiding themselves.

no one with long, black, and wavy hair that flowed well past her shoulders and framed her face perfectly should cover that up.

no one with big, brown, and expressive eyes that you could just drown in should have to shield them. they deserve to be put into a museum.

they deserve to be admired.

you snap back to reality when she drops her arms and moves to make some space between you two, and she realizes that you're staring at her, suddenly frantically looking for her hat. you try to stop her in her tracks.

"hey hey, it's alright," you reassure her. "you look really pretty, by the way." she seemed to be taken aback.

"wait do you..." she starts to question before catching herself and instead choosing to say, "oh, um, thank you! you do too, by the way."

"i'm just saying you don't need the hat. i mean, how would you even be able to see taylor?"

she picks her hat off the floor and stares at it long and hard, as if deep in thought.

"you know what? you're right."

she then puts her hat on her chair before turning her attention back to the stage with a smile -- right on time for cruel summer.

as soon as the telltale intro started, she grabbed you by the shoulders again and started jumping around while screaming the lyrics. your eyes widened and your shoulders stiffened at the sudden proximity before you relaxed and just enjoyed the moment, screaming at the top of your lungs with the rest of the crowd.

"I'M DRUNK IN THE BACK OF THE CAR, AND I'M CRYING LIKE A BABY COMING HOME FROM THE BAR, OH!" you both screamed at each other, pointing to each other while using your phones as mics at the same time.

"SAID I'M FINE BUT IT WASN'T TRUE, I DON'T WANNA KEEP SECRETS JUST TO KEEP YOU, AND I," you aggressively pointed at each other at every syllable. you were both stuck in your own little world -- as if you'd known each other your whole lives.

as the show went on, you'd sometimes sneak glances at the girl beside you and smile to yourself as you enjoyed the sight of her just letting loose.

on one occasion, though, she must've felt your gaze on her as she turns to meet yours. you didn't even bother covering it up; there was no saving yourself. you just mirror her bright smile that makes her eyes disappear, hoping this moment would last forever.

then again, all good things must come to an end.

the concert flies by, and the next thing you know, you and your seatmate are seated once again, trying to catch your breath.

you didn't even get to take many pictures because of how much fun you were having.

"wow," she said as she looked up at the ceiling. she then went quiet, as if replaying the events of the night in her head. she shook her head with a smile and turned to look at you before a phone notification soon caught her attention.

a whole slew of them.

you just looked on as she sighed, replying to only one of them before shutting her phone off and giving you her fullest attention with a smile.

"you're quite famous, huh?" you joked. her eyes went wide as the color seemingly drained from her face. "oh no, i just meant that because you had a lot of notifs," you said, trying to save face and reassure her. i wonder why she clams up randomly, you thought to yourself.

you then realize that you may never get the answer to your question. and the thought disappoints you.

what have i got to lose?

you got your phone and switched on your camera, pointing it towards the stage.

"hey," you say, trying to get her attention. you held your hand out in front of the camera in a peace sign, hoping she catches your drift. soon enough, you see another peace sign in front of your camera, and you start to snap away.

afterwards, you turn your peace sign into half a heart, and she does the same.

"let's take a pic together, you and me," you tell her. before she even got the chance to reply, you immediately followed it up. "only if you want to! i don't want to make you uncomfortable, seeing as we're strangers and all--"

she cut off your rambling by plucking your phone out of your hands and switching it to selfie mode. "it's fine..."

"y/n."

"y/n. lovely name for a lovely person,” she remarked. “anyways, you're good. now, come on! my arm's getting tired."

you got into the frame, posing with her and making funny faces before she chuckled and proceeded to airdrop the pictures to herself.

"let's get going?" she asks as she gets up from her seat. you nod and follow her lead out of the stadium.

conversation flows easily between the both of you as you slowly make your way outside, not wanting the moment to end.

soon enough, you made it outside. you turn to face her, bouncing on your heels as you spoke.

"um, i guess this is it."

"yeah, i guess it is."

you open your mouth to take a leap, to make the moment last, but of course it had to be cut short by the honk of a black van that pulled up close to you both.

she looks towards the van. "well, i guess this is me."

you knew you'd regret it if you didn't make a move, so you took your chances.

"wait!"

"hm?" she looks at you expectantly -- and maybe a little hopefully, unless you were deluding yourself.

"i...had a lot of fun tonight, and i'd hate if this were just a one night thing, you know?"

she chuckles in response. "i did too, y/n."

"so...would you want to meet up again soon?"

"i'm not from here, you know."

"neither am i, but who knows what'll happen?" you tried to reason out.

"you make a good point," she resigns.

"how about this: if you can find me after tonight, then we can go out."

"deal!" you replied a little too excitedly.

"alright, well, i'll see you around, y/n," she says as she moves to get inside her car.

"wait!"

"yes, y/n?"

"i don't even know your name."

"i guess you're right," she says.

she steps into your personal space, close enough that you could get a whiff of her perfume, as she holds your shoulders and leans in to whisper, as if only for you to hear.

"it's jen."

she then pulls away, but not after placing a peck on your cheek. she then steps back.

"have a good night, y/n. get home safe!" she says before ducking to get inside her car.

"bye," you whisper into the night as you watch the car speed off.

you turn around to make your way towards the subway. you check your twitter, going through your timeline before you decided to check the trends. one trend caught your eye, though. "JENJEN," it read. enticed, you clicked on it.

LE SSERAFIM's Huh Yunjin spotted at Taylor Swift's The Eras Tour in Singapore. attached to the tweet were pictures of your seatmate waiting in line and standing around in her bucket hat.

you stopped in your tracks, eyes wide, as you continued to scroll down, seeing tweets from what appeared to be kpop stan accounts.

so glad to see our resident swiftie enjoying her life AS SHE SHOULD

is she a ninja or smth bc how did none of us notice she was gone

why do u need to know where she is all the time smh 🙄

she looks like she had a lot of fun, thank u sg fearnots for not crowding her!

huh yunjin, huh?

you jumped over to instagram as you kept walking to the subway station to search her name up. clicking on the first account you saw, you realized that your seatmate was a celebrity.

you clicked on the big blue follow button and watched it turn into two separate buttons: following and message. you clicked on the latter button.

itsy/n: found you

itsy/n: 1 image attached.

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | two

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she knows who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: violence, injuries, description of injuries, PTSD, bad language, again The King of Hybern...

A/N: so here it is, the second part. I really hope that you're all liking it. It's starting to settle, our protagonists are meeting and it's getting more interesting!! As always, any kind of support would be greatly appreciated! Thank you all for your time❤️

Nimue stands in the middle of her enormous room: a chamber so deep within her father's castle, it is carved directly into the mountain rock. She doesn't see natural light, hear the ocean waves, or watch birds fly.

Not that she has ever seen them. She simply knows they exist, how they sound, how they smell, because the Cauldron has told her so.

She observes her own reflection in the huge mirror on the wall. The girl she sees is truly beautiful. She possesses an ethereal beauty that seems to emanate from within her, as if she were imbued with the same magic that created her. Her long, silky hair falls in wavy cascades of silver, with flashes of light that seem to dance with every movement. Her eyes are of a hypnotic color, like the whitest of pearls, shining with ancient wisdom and fierce determination. Her skin is pale as the moon, yet it gleams with a radiant glow that seems to illuminate even the darkest night. Her figure is slender and elegant.

The reflection the mirror returns is that of an ancient, wise, powerful being.

However, she only feels like a child, surrounded by things she knows from others' words.

When her father isn't listening, Nimue asks the Palace cooks to recount to her what the world beyond the walls is like. In particular, it's the words of old Ferlan that she enjoys hearing the most: she describes the landscape beyond the cliffs on which the castle stands, the dense enchanted forests, the fertile plains where people live in beautiful villages, the beaches of black sand and cold water, the cliffs where giants were said to have once dwelled...

It's those stories that comfort Nimue's lonely heart, that shed light on her shadow-filled world.

Before she knows it, she's wandered so far in her daydreams that she doesn't even know what time it is.

That's when she feels it in the air, even before hearing it. That sweet scent that accompanies The Voice...

"You have everything in your power to be free, child," it whispers in her ear. The scent, the presence, like a smoke-shaped entity, swirls around her, caressing her cheeks and tucking strands of hair behind her ears. "No one would dare stand in your way. Once you decide, the world will bow to your will. Your father will submit to your will..."

Nimue violently shakes her head. The Voice steps back, but when she becomes still again, it clings to her skin once more.

"But father... what has he done to me?"

The Voice laughs, and Nimue feels like she's going to be sick.

"What has father done to you? You're foolish, child. Foolish. Foolish. Innocent. Foolish," it spits out word after word, and Nimue feels them like daggers.

"Father brought me into the world, father gave me life. I owe everything to father, and he asks me to fight in his name. To protect my people from those who wish us harm."

Nimue clings to her own words like a mantra.

"Father loves me..." she whispers into the air, for The Voice is no longer there with her. She wonders if it was ever really there at all, or if it was just feverish imaginings to soothe her own loneliness.

Father loves her. But she knows he's not a good person. Nimue knows what lies beyond, and she longs to see the sunlight, to see the sea, to feel the rain on her skin...

Nimue knows her father isn't a good person. But neither is she.

She knows she has to kill her father. But where will she find the courage? She only knows these four walls that surround her. What will she do when she kills him? Will the Cauldron be angry with her? What kind of child kills their own father?

She spins, and spins, and spins with the same questions for years. Since the moment she gained enough awareness in her fae body to realize that her "father" wasn't the hero of the story, and she was just another puppet in his conquest game.

The only thing she was sure of was that she wouldn't be the good one either. That she wouldn't let her father win that game.

With light steps, she leaves her room and decides to wander around the castle for a bit. Curiosity is what moves her.

In these past weeks, her father's castle has been filled with various guests of all kinds, a very diverse selection. The legions of the attor, her father's elite soldiers, the highest-ranking officials, there were even two males from Prythian and a few simple humans.

Humans. Nimue had been smelling them for weeks in every corner of the castle. That stale stench that seeped into her pores.

She wondered what reasons the King would have to bring humans into the cleanliness of his castle, but as always, even if she asked, the answer would be the same: politics is not Nimue's concern. Nimue only fights, fights, fights.

However, today the hallways were surprisingly empty. Empty of humans, attor, and even the guards.

Where was everyone?

And it was right at that moment, in that desolate and gloomy hallway, that Nimue noticed the silence.

There were guards all over the castle. Magical guards isolating something, someone. There was something blocking her senses, and no matter how much she extended her magical perception, she couldn't feel the Cauldron.

The Cauldron.

Her heart skipped a beat when she realized she was alone without the presence of the Cauldron. If until then she had felt lonely, she realized it was nothing compared to the pressure she felt in her chest.

What was happening?

She began to run, like a lost child in an enchanted forest.

While she had never seen the Cauldron after she emerged, she had always lived with its constant presence in the castle. She knew it was there, it comforted her, it kept her company. Sometimes she even believed that The Voice she heard was the Cauldron itself, seeking to keep her company.

She kept running, and running, and running, not knowing where to. As she turned a corner, she felt the need to grip the white stone wall so tightly that she felt a nail break.

What was that pain in her chest? By the Mother, she had never experienced an arrow to the heart, but she imagined that's how it must feel. What was happening to her?

As soon as she caught her breath, she continued running somewhere, with that throbbing pain between her ribs.

And she heard it:

My creature, my sweet creature.

She stopped abruptly, all senses alert and panting like a racehorse.

Come, princess. I have gifts for you. Follow my voice, sweet girl.

Nimue almost sobbed. That voice, sweet, like a mother's... The Cauldron was calling her.

She finally saw it clearly: she knew which doors to open, which stairs to climb, which corners to turn. She saw it so clearly that for a moment she was blinded by all that power that the Cauldron emanated.

"I'm coming!" she cried, desperate.

She knew which door it was behind, and when she opened it, the wave of power that greeted her completely stunned her.

And then she began to process her surroundings: in the throne room, there were all the guards, all the creatures that formed her father's court. All surrounding a truly grotesque scene.

Nimue put on the intimidating mask she had practiced so much, while her gaze danced from figure to figure: an Ilyrian (an Ilyrian male, she hadn't seen any!) lying on the floor, its black and powerful wings now nothing more than torn limbs and patches of skin. A little further away, another Ilyrian male (by the Mother, two in one day!), this one with an arrow lodged in his chest and kneeling in a pool of his own blood, next to him a beautiful blonde female with tears streaming down her face.

She kept looking, there was everything in that room. When everyone recognized her presence and turned to look at her, she felt as if time stood still as she advanced, making her way among the guards' armors. With her head held high and her curious gaze, she tried to calm her own nerves and continued observing.

There were humans there, those women her father had once called queens. Queens of what? Also that hateful Jurian, with whom she had coincided a couple of times, enough to decide he was nothing but trash. And two females...

Her gaze returned to the group beyond, where behind the Ilyrian she found a pair of fae, and unwittingly she recognized him, his darkness.

Rhysand.

She frowned and continued walking towards her father, circling the whole scene while feeling all eyes on her, following her graceful movements.

Come, child. And look at the gift, look at it...

And she set her eyes on the Cauldron.

She forgot about that phantom arrow lodged in her chest, and stopped next to her father, her gaze fixed on the Cauldron.

She felt her father's accusatory gaze on her, but putting that aside, he spoke:

"You arrive at the perfect moment, my dear daughter," and after those words, she felt as if everyone in the room breathed again after her untimely interruption.

What the hell was going on there? What was the High Lord Rhysand doing in her castle? Who were those accompanying him?

"You arrive at the perfect moment to witness the miracle of the Cauldron. To witness the demonstration these humans will perform for it..."

Her father continued speaking, but Nimue completely ignored him. She just stood there, next to the King of Hybern, and analyzed the whole situation.

The two fae males who had been hanging around her house for weeks, the blonde and the redhead, bound by her father's magic. Weren't they allies? Why was her father imprisoning them?

A little further away, the two guards holding one of the two human girls began pushing her towards the Cauldron.

She heard screams, pleas, denials from all sides. The King spoke, the human Queens, the fae female next to Rhysand, some of them shouting at each other.

But Nimue only had eyes for the poor human they were pushing towards the Cauldron.

What were they going to…?

And as if she were a feather, they lifted her above the edge of the Cauldron and submerged her in a single motion, plunging her until she lost sight of her.

Nimue felt pure terror. Memories that weren't hers flooded her.

Skin dissolving, bones breaking, desperate screams.

She screamed into the air, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that escaped her chest. Her father stopped her by pulling on the leash, even before she had thought of throwing herself towards the poor girl.

Rage, rage, rage, rage, rage.

Everything that happened afterward was like a blink.

The Cauldron spat the girl onto the flagstones as if she were a fish out of water.

Look, child. I have given you a sister. I have created a sister for you.

Nimue breathed so fast she thought she was going to faint.

The people present were saying things, shouting, crying, laughing.

The other human fought tooth and nail against the guards, her screams piercing Nimue's eardrums, who only let herself be infected by the rage of that poor human.

Her rage. Rage. Rage.

The rage that boiled in every nerve of her being. It bubbled at the tips of her fingers, beneath her skin, in her eyes, everywhere.

If she opened her mouth, she felt like her own rage would burst forth in torrents, like a river after the snows.

Her rage was going to burst out, all over her father.

The second human kept fighting. Nimue never imagined the human spirit could be so untamed.

And the hand of that woman pointing at her father made something change in the air.

Nimue felt her leash loosen, felt her father getting a little nervous.

And she saw the moment.

She saw the weakness in the air, the King's doubt.

And she embraced it.

The second human emerged from the Cauldron, transformed into something.

And Nimue exploded.

A beam of white light burst from her chest, throwing her father backward. The King's head hit one of the columns, and everyone present in the room recoiled at such a wave of power.

What rage. What immense rage. It consumed her inside, burned her. So much, so much rage.

She raised an arm and pointed at her father, feeling how, again, energy rose from her feet to the tips of her fingers. She struck the King again with all that rage.

"You're a monster!" she shouted. She shouted it again and again, while feeling that with every pulse of power she directed towards him, she was gradually breaking down his shields.

However, the King of Hybern laughed, kneeling on the flagstones and trying to regain his composure. A venomous, disgusting laugh that made bile rise in Nimue's mouth.

In a last attempt to take control of the situation, Nimue raised a shield in the center of the room, around the Cauldron. In two agile leaps, she positioned herself next to Rhysand.

"Show me a place," she demanded. Rhysand clung to the brunette female beside him, tears streaming down his face. His gaze jumped from Nimue to the Ilyrian males, from the Ilyrian males to the new fae females, and back to Nimue. "Tell me a place and I'll get you out of here! Quickly, show me!" the princess demanded again.

The guards pounded Nimue's white shield again and again, and behind her, she felt the King of Hybern standing up.

Her gaze met Rhysand's again, and the male, trembling, took Nimue's hand.

"To Velaris," he managed to whisper.

Nimue didn't know how, but as soon as she heard the name, she knew exactly where it was, what it was. She chose whom to take: the two Ilyrian males, the beautiful blonde fae female, the two girls who had been submerged in the Cauldron, the female clinging to Rhysand, and finally Rhysand himself, whose hand Nimue held when she let her magic transport her and everyone else away from there. Away from Hybern. Away from her home.

To Velaris.

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading

If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know! Thank you for your support 🥰

[breezy141]

OPENING UP - james marriott masterlist

tw/ mention of sexual assault! || as this kind of hit close to home, i thought i would write a little something that myself and many others (unfortunately) could relate to. sometimes reading/hearing something come from a comfort person can really help.

the camera appeared so daunting now that you were about to start explaining what happened to you. as much as you didn’t want to have to explain what you went through as a young teen, you felt you owed your fans and followers an explanation.

stupidly, you started distancing yourself away from every social media platform without a reason. which of course, led to people making assumptions and spreading rumours about why you were gone for so long.

the reality was, it was starting to take a deeper toll on you due to the time of year; causing you to have such a lower outlook on life, your motivation levels were horrendous.

with much talking with james, your boyfriend, you both decided it would be best to explain what’s happened so it can be done with for once and for all. he gave you some words of encouragement before leaving you alone in your shared bedroom so you felt more comfortable.

exhaling deeply, you pressed the record button and started off with a simple hello, giving a trigger warning and explaining what you would be talking about. you knew this was about to be a raw and emotional video so you apologised in advance.

then, you started. the further you went on, the more tears fell. trying your hardest, you simplified the story as much as possible so it was less to edit and less of a watch time.

once you were finished, you sobbed into your hands uncontrollably. much to your luck, james had heard and had entered the room; wrapping his arms around you. he didn’t dare say a word, not yet. he waited, and waited, he waited for how ever long it took for your sobs to dull and your tears to slow.

“i’m sorry darling” is all he said once you had burnt yourself out, you leaned into his chest. “i want the thoughts to stop, i can still feel their hands on my skin. i hate it, i hate it james” james wanted to cry with you, but he promised you and the people around him that he would be there for you, in any way shape or form.

“i know baby, i know.” he rubbed his hands up and down the side of your arm “i need you to know it wasn’t your fault, it was never your fault, and it will never be your fault” you closed your eyes and listened to his sweet words.

“wanna know a fact? every twenty eight days your skin sheds from his dead cells. that’s about thirty thousand cells every minute. which means, you are free from them. they touch is no longer on you. you are clean and you are safe”

he’s right, he’s completely right. every skin cell that that person had assaulted, is gone. it’s fallen off “thank you” you said barely above a whisper. he softly kissed your temple, and held you closer to his chest.

“did you manage to finish?” he asked with a nervous tone, you nodded your head not really in the mood to talk much.

“why don’t you have a little nap?” you were about to protest, not wanting to be left on your own “don’t worry, i’ll be with you the whole time. i won’t leave your side until you are ready, okay?” nodding in understanding, you both made your way to the bed. he helped you with getting undressed, yet he respected your boundaries and ensured he went at your pace.

you both slipped under the covers and held each other closely, not wanting to let go. “i love you, thank you for everything”

“i love you too”

[corpsekiller]

𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — 𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. dabi x genderneutral!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. fluff, mentions of blood and death, pre!dabi dance

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. dabi finally opens up about his past and much to his surprise, you accept him as he is. even more you give him a choice of who he wants to be when he's with you.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. i'm finally getting back into writing after a quite long hiatus and i couldn't be happier that my motivation and my inspiration is returning. i'm still pretty busy with my studies since my exams are coming up in a month or so, but i'll try my best to write whenever i find the time. so enjoy this fic, my loves <33

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.363 words

MASTERLIST

"What do you want me to call you?"

The question hits him like a train at full speed, crashes into his ribs, and punches the air out of his lungs until his head spins with the lack of oxygen. His fingers have gone numb around the cigarette he’s holding and although he thought he grew accustomed to the cold after years of living out in the streets, lurking in the shadows of dark alleys most citizens of that shithole avoid at night, his entire body shivers under the thin layer of his torn clothes. And yet, even as the wind lashes around him and seeps through the seams of his sleeves to lick over his scars, he makes a point of pretending he isn’t freezing to the bone.

You, on the other hand, seem to sink further into your sweater, hands buried in the thick material and legs pulled tightly to your chest to keep yourself warm — a pathetic huddle of clothes hunched against an old tree, desperately trying to make yourself as small as possible to press yourself further into the crevices for some sort of shelter. As he watches you from his spot a few feet away, he feels a sharp sting of guilt for bringing you all the way here, away from the liveliness of the city and the hope it holds despite the war that has been raging through the streets.

But he owes you this, he thinks as he shrugs off his coat and closes the distance between you, carefully draping it over your shivering figure. The small smile you give him in return makes his heart ache with an unknown feeling of warmth; he isn’t quite sure how to call it, this sense of comfort that washes over him whenever your eyes meet, but he knows it’s something akin to love. Perhaps that’s why you deserve to know what really happened to him all those years ago, he supposes, a confession of the trust he has in you.

It would've been easy to get rid of you here; he could've burned you to a crisp without a single witness, slashed your throat before your mouth could've opened to release a treacherous scream, or simply broken your neck to watch the light inside your eyes die slowly. No one would've known where you went if there’d be anyone who cared enough about you and your miserable life.

On that count, you’re both very similar.

There was no other place he felt safe enough to talk about his past, though — about the boy he was for his father and killed mercilessly when he learned he’d never be good enough to meet his expectations. It felt fitting to return to his own grave, deep in the woods, where his fire consumed every living thing in a haze of cerulean blue and left a wasteland of solitude between trees shedding thick layers of ash and soot.

He remembers the pain of the flames melting the flesh off his bones, how they swallowed him whole and spat out something far worse than any monster he could ever imagine — a demon in the shape of unbridled rage and hatred, clawing his way out of scorched earth with a new thirst for war in his eyes.

“Y’know, doll,” he finally speaks, crouching down in front of you to pull the heavy leather tighter around your body before he leans forward and gently cups your face, caressing the curve of your jaw with his thumb. Instantly, you nuzzle into the palm of his hand, chasing the warmth of his touch and smiling softly when he breathes out a low chuckle and presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

It’s strange to see how he’s capable of such tenderness when all he’s ever known was violence and anger — these very same hands that have murdered and tortured mercilessly before have grown soft in your presence. Even if he would want to, Dabi doubts he could ever hurt you. It sounds fuckin’ stupid, he notices now that he thinks about it, but you changed him. “I never thought I’d hear someone ask this question.”

And look, he didn’t expect you to stay. It wouldn’t have been a surprise to him if you’d jumped to your feet and made a run for it as soon as he revealed his past, his true identity to you, but instead, you stayed right where you’re sitting, wrapped in his coat that smells faintly like days without a proper shower, like cigarettes, like him.

Instead of leaving him, you stayed and listened patiently to every word that spilled past his lips like blood gushing out of an open wound — watched how the tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he recalled his father’s rage towards him, reached out for his hand to give him some sort of reassurance whenever his voice broke, encouraging him to continue despite the horror that seemed to grow in your eyes with every passing second.

And when he finally stopped talking, when the wound stopped bleeding for the first time in years, you gave him something he never had before: a choice of who he wants to be, regardless of the horrors he committed. and the blood that clings to his hands after so many lives he took just to quench his thirst for revenge.

And that—

That must be love, right?

The realization comes crashing down on him when you gently grab his wrist and pull him away from your cheek, instead lifting it to your lips to brush a kiss over his bruised knuckles as you repeat the question, softer, more careful this time. “So, what do you want me to call you?”

His eyes search yours in fervor. It’s a desperate attempt to find any doubts that you might not accept who he truly is, that this love you have for him was only a figment of his imagination. Maybe he’s just been so scared all this time to open up to you because he was waiting for you to realize he’s just not worth it, that he’s better suited for the edge of a knife driven between his ribs than any kindness, but your gaze holds nothing more than pure adoration for him.

“Touya,” he finally replies, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You can call me Touya, sweetheart.”

“Touya,” you repeat slowly, delicately forming every syllable of his name on the tip of your tongue. His breath hitches in his throat as he listens to you say it again and again, trying to grow accustomed to the unfamiliar ring of his real name — it sounds like a fuckin’ prayer falling from your lips and any resentment he ever felt for his old name seems to simmer down into reluctance.

With every whisper of his name, Dabi shuffles closer to you, until your face are only mere inches apart and he can feel your breath ghost over his parted lips. It’s addicting, to hear you say those two little syllables, and it buzzes through his veins like some sort of drug, like he's getting high on fucking heroin.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so present in his stupidly frail body, doesn’t think he’s ever felt this fuckin’ alive before until this very moment and when the corners of your mouth curl into a smirk and your tongue darts out to repeat his name once again, he knows you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

He surges forward and crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss that coaxes a whimper out of you and Dabi swears he’s never felt like this before as he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip and hotly licks into your mouth, devouring you with everything you can offer. Your hands sink into his hair. A moan in the shape of his name escapes your throat and his stomach jumps into his chest because this—

This must be love, right? It has to be.

Because he never felt this fucking addicted to the sound of his name before until it fell from your lips.

[fmle-drven]

Till death do us part

Simon Riley x F!reader

You and Simon tie the knot, and what better fashion than a gothic cathedral

Kinda dragged off towards the end. I lost inspiration lmao

The day is here. The day you finally marry the love of your life. The day you become Mrs, Simon Riley.

You and Simon didn’t have the most romantic story by any means. You met Simon at a pub one night. He and his team were celebrating a highly successful mission and you. Well, you were sitting alone at the end of the bar after an extremely devastating day. Your long term boyfriend had broken up with you and you had lost your job.

You twirled your drink with the straw and stared at the liquid creating a tornado. Deep in thought, your eyes swollen from the tears shed throughout the day. You were 3 shots deep, and 2 margaritas in when you hear the blokes laughing and cheering from the other end of the bar. Looking up from your drink, the room vibrated a little bit while you stared at the bunch. You must have not known how long you were staring, but definitely long enough for one of them to walk over to you.

“May I buy you another drink miss?” The man asked.

You slowly drew your eyes from his feet ALL the way up to his masked face. Your eyes widened at the mountain standing before you. Your mouth gaped open but you quickly snap out of it. Your eyes narrow in on his as it’s the only thing you can see.

“I’m good” you say sharply as you swivel back around to your drink.

“The names ghost.” He continues, holding out a hand to greet himself.

“I said….. I’m…….. good.” You repeat through gritted teeth. You did not want any man to even look at you, let alone talk to you. You wanted to be left in alone, in your own pit of sorrow.

“Suit yourself, I’m only in town for the night. Wanted to make it worth my while. Especially with a gorgeous thing like yourself.” He says, a slight slur on his speech.

You just about had enough with today. The liquor making you feel the anger bubbly warmly in your chest. You grab your drink firmly and smash it on the ground at his feet.

“Shut the fuck up” you spit as you get out of your chair and storm out of the pub.

“Lovie, wait!” The man calls after you but you’re already out the door. Walking in the rain back to your flat, stomping the entire way.

The next morning you lay in bed, staring blankly at the wall when there was a knock at your door. Rolling out of the bed and slowly making your way over to the noise. Opening it annoyed, your met with the masked man once again. He was holding out your purse, looking down at the ground.

“You forgot this at the pub last night” he says softly. “ I’m quite sorry if I had upset you. I just thought you were so pretty and I-“

“Thank you. Do you want a tip or something? For bring it back?” You cut him off, snatching the purse out of his hand and reaching for your wallet.

“Not necessarily, just wanted to do the right thing. Have a lovely day miss.” He almost mumbles and turning away.

Your eyes soften. He wasn’t like the other guys, he wasn’t like your ex. He was just being nice.

You let out a soft sign. “Wait, sir. Here” you hand him your phone to put his phone number in.

“I owe you a tea or coffee. I’ll text you or you can text me the next time you’re in town.i owe you one.” You gave him a sweet but pitiful smile.

“No need to call me sir. The names Simon.” You could tell he was smiling ear to ear from the crinkles around his eyes.

The next time you see him, instead of coffee or tea he suggests dinner. From there, you grew to really like this mysterious masked man. He was kind, smart, cheeky, and surprisingly fun. Your love only grew the more you two spent time together. From movie dates, to the mind blowing sex. You can’t believe this amazing guy gave you a chance after your first and second interaction.

Simon purposed to you in the kitchen one Sunday morning. You two had been together for nearly 3 years and he couldn’t take it any longer. You had to be his, forever. You were cooking breakfast and sipping on your coffee. Blabbering about work and how your coworker wasn’t doing anything right when all of a sudden you see Simon crouch down out of the side of your vision. And there he was, a beautiful black and emerald ring, in a vintage gothic box he said the words “marry me.” It was never a question, it was always a statement.

Here you stand, a year and a half later. The most beautiful cathedral you had ever seen. Your sister is putting on your black tiara and matching black veil. Your makeup done to perfection. Emerald eye shadow to match the ring Simon had given you, long hair curled and swept across your back, black roses held tightly in your hands. Your dress was long sleeved, laced, and a train that dragged as long as the aisle. You looked like a queen, his queen.

The doors to the cathedral opened, and there stood all your friends and family looking at you in aw. At the end of the aisle was a tall and handsome Simon. He stood in all black, next to his mates and colleagues. The organs rang throughout the tall room and you knew this was finally the beginning of your life.

When you exchanged vows, you surprised Simon with a tattoo on your ring finger that read “till death do us part.” Simon gasped, as he presented his ring finger with the same tattoo.

And it was true, till death do us part. As Simon was your counter part. You two were sent to each other, and you’ll be sent back to where ever you were created, together.