#ah let’s tag them why not?

[lulu2992]

Ask meme!

I was tagged by @simplegenius042 for my “Top Four Fictional Crushes”! Thank you :)

There are others but here are the 4 characters I immediately thought of (in no particular order, I just wanted the picture to look visually coherent):

Ardyn Izunia - Final Fantasy XV (2016)

Vaas Montenegro - Far Cry 3 (2012)

John Seed - Far Cry 5 (2018)

Ghirahim - The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword (2011)

Honorable mention (because he’s my first fictional crush):

Li Shang - Mulan (1998)

Shout-out to him for being to only normal person in this post :’)

[spacebubblehomebase]

Without colors or context, this simple and stupid comic of mine feels so, so tense; It's ominous. The difference from the tone of my last doodle is low-key hilarious though. But please, *insert ace joke here* cause I swear this is nothing serious. I don't even know why I gave in so much effort or show ya'll my progress before finishing, yet here we are. -Bubbly💙

[420technoblazeit]

i do think that like. the current tiktok phenomenon of bullying teenagers for being really into stranger things, specifically a character who was considered an outcast for being nerdy and neurodivergent coded, is really weird though. like ive never watched stranger things and i dont plan to but like. it's a popular show. no one's going to look at you weird if you say you've watched stranger things and you really liked it. it's one of netflix's big shows

but people on tiktok are specifically making fun of kids who get over emotional about it. i havent touched anything stranger things and i still keep getting recommended tiktoks of people being like imagine getting attached to a character who was only in one season. that's so cringe

why is it now considered cool to be nerdy, but only if you're not too into it? why can i scroll through tiktok and see some conventionally attractive tiktoker get a million views for a low effort anime cosplay and then i scroll down and someone's mocking a stranger things fansong? it's like being a nerd is just an aesthetic and if it's more than that to you then you're a loser

idk it fucking reeks of ableism and i hate it

[piningpercussionist]

Template by @juni38

Im going to be completely frank with you all... and admit that I read these options and wasn't sure how to take this chart,,, so uh. Under the cut is Another Version. I'd apologize but I've given you the option to keep scrolling ¯\_(･･)_/¯

(If you notice characters missing on Kim's side, I probably figured she doesn't know who they are lol)

For the record,,, if they *wanted* me to pull their hair-- *is shot several times before I can continue*

Uhh Matthew is here because I have been converted fully on he/him or enby lesbian Matthew I think. He lives in my brain rent free now, very gender. I'd pull his hair but also I think he mostly just deserves to have it played with nicely.

And Scott's here because 1) I enjoy trans Scott, 2) Kim Pine Brain Rot possibly, 3) idk he's like,, the exception. God damnit, I've fallen for the inexplicable Scott Pilgrim Effect. What the fuck--

I did think about doing this chart like everyone was actually applicable to my tastes, but even if they were I think the ones I didn't put up would have to fall on the caress side bc I just don't feel that way abt them lol.

Again, not to say that's the case for the gals over on that side,,, I just think I would want to be gentle w them shxkdjsdhbd with the exception for Lynette who probably deserves to have her hair pulled, but again I fear she would Hurt Me,,, but maybe in a fun way,,,

Anyway No One Look At Me....

(,, also,,, Ramona is so far over bc I think she would enjoy it,, otherwise she'd be closer to Kim in that section. Same thing w Roxie)

If anyone actually looks at this version, I'm not opposed to doing a version like this for Kim btw! Just ask for it so I feel like I'm not just Dropping This and scurrying away

[deus-ex-mona]

such is the tale of a ✨chronically online hypocrite✨

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Points at you. 10 and/or 11 for starstruck?

Two starstruck asks,,,,,,joy of joys,,

Part of an ask game linked here.

#10. What's an au you have for them?

Since them meeting at all is technically an AU i have 3 different ways that they do meet up. There's the one where Juniper ends up with the agency/adjacent to and ends up working with Reggie (have written a fic with this). The next one is Juniper surviving but basically going stealth and living as normal of a life as he can and ending up meeting Reggie through chance (most recent fic I've written). And then there's my personal favourite where Reginald "You're lucky my tracking skills are still up to snuff" Crane keeping himself busy after Phoenix was MIA and finding Juniper still alive (fic I want to write but haven't started mainly because it may end up multi chapter).

In terms of more AU canon bending taking them and putting them in a completely unrelated situation...I have a guilty pleasure Warrior Cats AU for IEYTD in general. Both JJ and Reggie have perfect warrior cats suffixes in their names already (Juniper and Crane) so they're called Junipersong (charcoal bengal) and Craneflight (tabby Norwegian forest cat). It's very silly but the amount of scenes I have in my mind for it...good lord...

#11. How was their first kiss like?

Augh my friend Imp wrote an absolutely excellent fic about it (tragically in the realm of unfinished Google docs) and I'm shaking their hand about it so hard. Basically Juniper kissing Reggie but he like wasn't ready/fully expecting it and Juniper absolutely panicking because he thinks he's misread every interaction between them both since they got closer. The second one is much sweeter though,,

[rowanoftheunknown]

I fucking hated the proposal actually

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya most definitely made at least one joke about how bc Addie and Elzer helped keep him alive during Luc’s Adventurous 4yrs Adventures Abroad, he was gonna make himself their problem.

Addie will never forget to bring up he has yet to make good on his threat every time he visits.

[shingogf]

I will go ahead and say this bc i dont see enough ppl saying it

Despite his outrightly cartoonish, often times ridiculous way of being helplessly evil, medic is and can be a nuanced character. Throughout my years being in and out of various fandoms i've noticed a pattern: people clinging onto a morally grey character (usually a villain but not always) then proceeding to completely ignore or straight up erase bits of their personality when producing fan content, resulting in what i personally like to call the "villainized villain syndrome". Basically, overexaggerating their in canon personality and using the "oh well he's completely off his rocker so he MUST be willing to do ANY kind of immoral act because of it!" argument that I personally do not like.

I saw this predominantly in fanfics where ppl will write the reader being straight up n*n c*ned by him and not even JUST in a sexual sense, like being experimented on without their explicit consent which idk just doesn't sit well w me esp when u market said fic as a wannabe, romance-happy reader insert.

Medic, as an ENTP, uses ti-fe which implies NOT forcing yourself on others. Instead he uses his wits and charm to get people to comply with his wishes and we have clearly seen that once he outsmarted the devil himself. Demanding and forcing your views on people is a te-fi trait. He doesn't even need to use force, he's so good at dismantling others' logic and giving arguments that he just...gets what he wants.

I think you are heavily misinterpreting medic's whole character when u write him with a SINGLE defining trait a.k.a an overwhelming senseless evilness (TOWARDS his OWN teammates even) that results from his desire to be experimenting on ppl. In my opinion it does not make sense for him to REALLY put his own teammates mindlessly in danger just bc he feels like it. Yea he's unethical and completely disregards any kind of human norm but whatever he does almost always benefits the team in the end, not to mention he experiments on them p much consensually. Heavy seemed a-ok with being cut open since that's also kinda mandatory anyway in their job. Medic isn't "the big evil" he is "means to an end" evil. For such a logical man it would make 0 sense for him to disregard his team's safety COMPLETELY, it would be taxing including for his own paycheck.

Like yes medic big medic scary medic evil but have you considered he can have nuances and shades to his fucked up character? I think ppl forget he literally bluffed in front of classic heavy when he asked him if he has any problem with going against his old teammates only to cause the classic team to go into BANKRUPCY to revive sniper who technically was his enemy at the time. Then proceeding to rejoin his old team and AGAIN bluffing so heavy could take down classic heavy. And he was visibly happy to be welcomed back into the red team.

This isn't me saying medic isn't the worst example of a human being and that i want ppl to write him "softer", no. This is me saying that a villain wouldn't commit literally ANY kind of immoral act just bc he's "evil" and that even vile and violent characters can have variations in their behavior.

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

And so it starts. Somebody in the BG3 fandom sees a post they don't like by somebody who probably hasn't even finished the game yet to know the full context, and they need to be like, "Is anyone going to make a callout post about that?" and don't wait for an answer.

[kakusu-shipping]

I changed my icon again.

[leenesomewhatdraws]

Day 4: Plushies !! <3

Drew this traditionally then half colored it digitally so thats why it may look strange (just don't zoom in lol)

Under the cut for b&w version and the sketch of their plushies since you can't really see Litwick's one

[astranite]

Today I encountered The Horrors. 

(had to make a phone call and send an email I’d been putting off.)

(There are still more Horrors to come)

(whyyyyyyyyyyyy?????)

[seelestia]

✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).

⎯ there is a certain touch of beauty to witnessing a side of theirs revealed to you so naturally. it becomes as easy as breathing if you just let it happen... so, will you? ( or in other words, a way you enable them to be themselves. )

#STARRING. aventurine, dr. ratio, sunday, dan heng ft. gn!reader. { 4.2k words }

#TAGS. fluff, established relationship. more: minor spoilers for aven's backstory (described mostly abstractly), ratio is referred to by his first name, i called sunday a nerd (sorry), dr. ratio & dan heng are certified workaholics.

#P/S. i think i may have yapped a little considering the word count but i hope it ends up being a good kind of yapping. tysm for reading! ♡

© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

★ 〜 masterlist.

will you let aventurine hold you close when he sleeps? . . . whether it's an arm slung over your hips or his nose buried in your shoulder or fingers tracing shapes onto your skin. he doesn't ask for too much; only that you grant him the permission to cradle you in his arms, somewhere within his reach. it's a habit, he hopes you don't mind.

you have to wonder, though. considering the plenitude of pillows on the bed, why do his hands still seek you out? with all the credits he spent on those cotton-stuffed angels, you thought aventurine would relish them a bit more. but ah-ah, see? that is where you're wrong. sure, the pillows are extremely comfy but he always has a preference for things with much, much more value.

and the truth — well, his truth — is that even the softest cushions from oti mall couldn't compare to the privilege of laying his head on your chest, he'd say. especially when you brush his hair with your fingers - oh, one of the easiest ways to paradise. truly, the best value there is! can you blame a man for being honest and a little lovesick?

(“sappy,” you accuse. he pouts, offended.)

but aventurine has a flair for theatrics, you know that. his witty quips are as feather-light in weight as light-hearted they are in intent. but his touch - in the forms of kind caresses or rhythmic taps to a tune from his forgotten culture - lingers on your skin, with a yearning so heavy. you question whether it could be nostalgia or instead, silent awe at a reality he never imagined could ever be his.

(kakavasha remembers. clinging onto you for warmth like he once did to his sister, falling asleep with her prayers to mama fenge in his ears. the avgins believed gaiathra triclops to be the symbol of humility; so naturally, their prayers to her should also be humble, not too quiet but not too loud. all in moderation. for a frail child like him, those gentle prayers alone were enough to let him drift into a dreamless slumber and to ignore the shackles of reality if not for the briefest moments.

time passed. came a time where the melody he associated with slumber was no longer a soft voice lulling him but pure static, a noise to distract his mind from the chains around his wrists. they burned themselves onto his skin, searing, but he was already too familiar with the sensation to care. the mark on his neck was unwelcome, laughing at him, but he too laughed at his own pitiful reflection so what's the difference, anyway?

time passed again, the call of slumber then turned into clattering noises of chips doused in gold and dice thrown onto a surface. he thought it'd stay that way forever but before long, it morphed into up-and-down waves he couldn't decipher initially. they're gentle, faint like a human's breathing: your breathing as you allowed him to lie beside you for the first time, he realized back then. although he deems himself unworthy, an ugly grime on your pristine existence that still insists on cradling him — but despite it all, he finds this last melody to be his favorite so far.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

ticklish.

the sensation, minor yet still impactful enough, causes you to stir out of sleep. the light of noon greets your eyes and you become vaguely cognizant that the root of it all is the tufts of blond hair brushing against your neck.

there is a solid weight on your torso and a pair of slender arms loosely wrapped around your waist - but they're nothing you haven't grown used to. you comb your fingers through the messy locks licking at your skin, instinctively, and the fragrant scent of what you register as penacony's limited edition perfume kisses your nose.

“...ugh, what system time is it?” you let out a grunt, shifting around slightly to let your limbs breathe. you don't get an answer to your question, instead, aventurine's arms reestablish their hold on you. hooking you closer to him as if to wring out whatever proximity is left, if there is even any. his simple proclamation of “who cares?”, in a sense.

there it is again, that ticklish feeling. you feel soft lips grazing feather-like kisses against your collarbone. oh, he definitely isn't letting go just yet. truly merciless, a dozy morning thought accompanied by your tired sigh. the noise still comes out fond, however, so your feigned act of annoyance is fooling no one.

“it's warm, you know,” you grumble. but the yawn escaping your mouth right after betrays whatever stern image you're trying to adopt. not like you can ever be too stern with him. aventurine knows this, yes, and he gives you an A+ for effort each time.

“mhm,” he finally speaks, snuggling into your chest with no care about anything in the world, “g'morning to you too, lovely.”

his favorite mornings aren't his favorite if not thanks to your innocuous complaints and delightful attempts at pushing his pretty face away, no? a lazy grin graces the stoneheart's lips and eyes like exquisite gems, although sleepy, flutter open to gaze at you languidly. he takes the sight of you in then lets out a sigh - a fond noise just like yours earlier; the both of you really are two peas of a pod.

you must look a terrible mess right now and yet, the sight of you has aventurine smiling dazedly. “ah, what a spectacular sight. i really am the luckiest man in the galaxy,” he hums in approval. you want to roll your eyes but stops as he leans up to pepper (ah, one necessary correction: smother) kisses all over your face, arms dragging you closer to his chest like a cage. your eyes widen comically. what a nefarious trap, he has the advantage!

every remnant of sleepiness clinging to your mind evaporates. you squeal with laughter, shoving at his shoulder using the strength of a baby deer because no, you don't really want him to stop. he knows that too, of course.

“mwah, mwah, mwah—”

“pfft...! kakavasha, i can't breathe!”

(he has half a mind to pinch his skin, as if to remind himself that this is real. he can feel your giggles tickling his skin as if to tell him in return: yes, you are.)

will you let veritas pour his heart out after a long day? . . . well, that could count as too much of an overstatement. others say, “that man is like a brick wall!” some more dare to whisper, “doesn't his temper already exhaust whatever emotional quota he has?!” needless to say, everyone knows that dr. ratio is a man ruled by the mind, not by the heart. alright, that's quite true - but does that imply he has discarded the latter altogether? if so, then you beg to differ.

(not in the literal sense, of course! the heart is a vital organ of the body. saying otherwise would be akin to spitting on his shiny phd in biology... or his seven other phd's at that.)

the pedestal which the public places veritas ratio on reaches still great heights, even if it may not rival an ivory tower a member of the genius society resides in. it is so high up that mundane troubles of those below can't reach a genius like him, surely? well, as tall as he stands - somehow, the universe grants you a front row seat for a particular sight that proves otherwise.

if only they knew the doctor has a habit of mumbling these incomprehensible (more like barely intelligible) grumbles under his breath, striking a resemblance similar to a grumpy old cat. if you strain your ears hard enough, you might catch a “...this has to be it...” or “...i dare not think so...” from time to time as he roams around the room with materials in his hands.

(absurd, people would say. but you think it's extremely cute.)

veritas doesn't say it out loud - but you can tell by the hunch in his stiff shoulders, by the one or two sighs he huffs every six minutes - that he is itching to tell somebody of all the tomfooleries he has encountered today. of course, the topics he laments about vary; it's only when you hear him exhaling the loudest sigh that you get to find out.

mostly though, it's about his students and remarks on how they can further improve their performance — sure, he could phrase it a little gentler — but you still find it sweet that he cares. if not that, then it'd be about indolent colleagues, complicated formulae and more. on some days, he'll even let out an exasperated “truly mind-boggling! could you believe that?” to which you'd reply with an “uh-huh, go on.”

at the end of a ranting session, veritas takes careful note to leave a kiss on your person afterward. no matter where it is - on the lips, the cheek or your hand. no matter where you are - sitting on the couch beside him, behind the kitchen counter or across the room. the warmth that stays on your skin when he pulls away is somewhat tingly. appreciative, you think, especially when he looks at you with such loving eyes that his colleagues would be sure to retch in shock if they were a witness.

looks like you are right on the money; he has never discarded his heart, after all. so yes, to rephrase - will you lend veritas a listening ear when he needs it?

✧ a moment among the stars:

“...yet another headache.”

as unsubtle as ever, the doctor's complaint is barely hidden behind the guise of a mumble. those neatly styled violet bangs of his aren't doing an excellent job at concealing that frown strewn across his forehead either. veritas's posture is tense, a dead giveaway, as he goes over the piles of documents on his desk.

you cock an eyebrow upon seeing the stamp belonging to the intelligentsia guild on one of the papers. definitely work. it has been two system hours since he took a seat at the work desk, you concur, or lifted a finger to do something besides flipping through drafts. a mere glance at the stack of documents is enough to convince you that those researchers at the guild must really value veritas's input.

a perk of being a genius, maybe? the phantom of a weight lands alight on your shoulders. with a mug of black coffee in hand, you make your way to him. your footsteps are without a sound, only the noise of porcelain being placed down onto woodenware is enough to announce your arrival. “rough day at work?” you ask, peering down at his progress.

(a doctor's handwriting really is something. you resist the urge to squint.)

veritas doesn't seem to mind. if the way he smiles at the sight of you, albeit tiredly, is any indication. “hah,” he rests a hand on his temple and scoffs wryly, “so much grievances like you wouldn't believe.”

oh, he is teetering on the precipice of a tangent but stops himself. “...fret not, i'm fine. this is hardly something beyond my expertise,” he shakes his head, the motion causing his reading glasses to slide down a smidgen down the bridge of his nose.

you're too familiar with the self-assured bravado he puts on. you're quite endeared, actually. “okay, mr. i-require-no-rest,” you take the glasses off his face and he breaks into a frown. at the childish tone you're using or for having his reading glasses taken away, you don't know.

“why don't you take a little break?” you suggest. veritas sighs, “need i remind you that dilly-dallying is for fools who wish to waste their time?” and crosses his arms defiantly. he knows your strategy, he has come face-to-face with it several times.

“do you think a break with me is a waste of time?” you present him with a rhetorical question, quite the difficult adversary.

(and he keeps losing to it every single time.)

“well, that's—” the doctor nearly splutters, taken aback. “that's different if you insist on inserting yourself as a variable,” he infers, putting emphasis on the last part accompanied by an incredulous look.

“the answer is up for debate then,” you shrug with a cheeky smile. your hand then deftly lifts the mug you previously set down to your lips, veritas's eyes dilate in bewilderment. “so,” you hum at the rich taste of your handiwork, “wanna tell me about your day? haven't heard about the council in a while.”

“you—” he gasps in defeat, “i thought that was supposed to be my mug of coffee.”

(he has a slight pout on his face, but you dare not point it out lest it disappears in the blink of an eye.)

“our mug of coffee,” you take a few more sips with an innocent decadence. “all is fair in love and war, doctor.”

“i can never win with you,” he buries his face in his palm with a groan. you laugh heartily, a sound that chimes like quaint little bells in his ears - it elicits a reaction from his lips, for them to quirk up at the corners in the smallest of ways.

“regardless. . .” veritas relents and reaches for your free hand. you let him. “it seems a break wouldn't be so amiss, after all,” he then presses a kiss on the side of your wrist, affectionate.

(your heart skips a beat.)

will you let sunday regale you with facts you've never heard of before? . . . a man of eloquent words, no less a man of educated mind. you have no doubt that the books in the dewlight pavilion really aren't just there for show - not that you're allowed to browse through them at your own desire. a servant's voice would stop you in your tracks should your fingers ever brush against something in the family's secret bookshelf.

how mysterious.

but sunday makes it known to the staff that you, in particular, are allowed more access to the shelves - perhaps, not too much - but more than even mr. mccoy, at least. with the way you have to crane your neck far up to pinpoint the tallest height that the shelves reach, you wonder: has sunday gone through everything here personally?

your immediate answer is most likely. you know sunday fairly well; to have something that he hasn't scrutinized from the inside out in his possession will surely gnaw away at his psyche incessantly. not being in the know at all times is a looming fear for him. but of course, you have other ways to confirm the answer for yourself.

pick out a book from a shelf there, either intentional or purely arbitrary, and watch as sunday carefully traces his steps towards you. his curiosity is piqued, which topic has caught your interest this time? but he tucks it under proper cordiality. with a hand behind his back, he'd utter your name in the softest tone and ask the familiar question of “would you like to know more?” — asking for your permission to ramble, essentially — you find this tendency of his to be charming, so you nod each time.

(and he smiles when you do. a smile less refined at the edges, kinder and relaxed.)

the best place to start from is always the beginning. you think sunday agrees because he often starts by telling you the history and its origins before moving on to its impact on the galaxy, then his personal stance on the topic. it's a pattern, you notice, his ramblings have a pattern. and it's consistent every time, you might've believed he was reading off a script. and what's more? sunday is blissfully oblivious of it.

fascinating. you ponder: what kind of things you can do with this information? decisions, decisions, decisions. . . but ultimately, you opt for keeping it a secret like a treasure only you're allowed to see.

(that might be true in a way. you don't doubt that robin, his dear sister, is familiar with this side of him. does that mean he treasures you like he does her? your chest starts to feel a bit lighter.)

if you were to point it out, you fear you might never witness it again - goodness, to know that he has been displaying such foolishness or rather, what he viewed as an embarrassing freudian slip in front of you? his wings might as well resort to covering his face for good until the end of time.

as you listen to him talk (with such elegance at that), you can't help whatever tender look you have on your face. really, who would've thought the head of the oak family could be such. . . a nerd?

(you hope in secret that sunday will be more willing to show sides like these to you in the future. and that they're not a weakness at all, not when they're shared with you.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“it looks like you're fascinated by the dreamscape nursery rhyme this time.”

sunday spares the article in your hold no further inspection. one glance at the cover and walls of memorized information rush to the front of his mind. he looks familiar with it; could it be a part of his childhood too? but then again, everything found here is within his knowledge.

“i am,” you say with intrigue, “it got me ruminating for a while.”

you meet his gaze, stumbling upon yellow irises that glimmer akin to gold under penaconian chandeliers. you think you see a hint of affection in them, swimming around your reflection like a school of fish in a pond. it makes you smile.

he smiles back, oblivious to your thoughts but returns your gesture. he asks, “how so?” and you reply without delay, “i read through it and the morbid undertone took me by surpri—”

or at least, it's supposed to be without delay until you realize sunday has stepped closer in order to peer down at the page you're holding open. and suddenly, you're extremely aware of every minute detail like how his breath brushes against the side of your cheek and how his chest rumbles as he hums in acknowledgement.

(you flush in the neck and he perceives this reaction of yours with mirth.)

“my apologies,” sunday chuckles and pulls away, “i've simply forgotten the rhyme and wished to refresh my memory.”

“somehow, i feel that isn't the case...” you mumble accusingly. that seems to amplify whatever little amusement he gets from flustering you. “oh, my dove. i can assure you that it is,” he caresses your head, a little placatingly.

most times, sunday isn't so laidback about giving affection in public — since he has an image to maintain — so you assume the fact that the servants are out and about, leaving only you and him here, plays a role in his unusual boldness. you accept the gesture with a bashful pout.

“now, where were we?” sunday clears his throat, “ah, yes. some people have noted on the nursery rhyme's strange quality but still, it retains its popularity in penacony. it is also widely assumed that the hound resembles the bloodhound family while—”

you hold back an amused sigh, but it's more out of fondness than anything. he'll start from the history then the effect on the general public, as per usual, but you're not the only predictable one here. you'd listen to him anytime too, won't you?

(you do adore when the head of the oak family would put off his public figure mask around you. if only for just a while.)

will you let dan heng rest his head on your lap when it's just you two? . . . the sense of comfort it provides isn't something he can explain with words. as if he has ever been good with words in the first place. saying a sentence bereft of logical reasoning or witty remarks doesn't come easily to the express’ guard. neither does intimacy. . . but you know that already, don't you?

after all, it isn't a secret that dan heng prefers speaking with his actions. if to show one's intentions is the end goal, then actions are the fastest route to choose. words, although able to sweeten the trip like how a beautiful scenery can, will eventually lead to actions regardless so why take the extra step?

but you're different from him; you articulate what you think and what you mean. you're honest in ways that keep catching dan heng off guard without fail — just like the first time you offered your empty lap to him when his head was swirling in pain — but he supposes that is one of your charms. “words can be useful. we're not all born mind readers,” you told him once and he hummed, accepting of your perspective.

(“look at you two! opposites attract!” march chirped. he recalled shooting her a look of indignation and she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly in response.)

dan heng has learnt to grow used to your propensities - but by far, your shameless invitations are still one matter that can't be comprehended even with time. he cannot understand; how you smile as you sit on his futon in the archives (he doesn't mind), how you link gazes with him so effortlessly, how you pat your lap knowingly and say, “why don't you rest your head here?”

(he has to restrain himself from bursting into flames like a heliobus.)

sometimes, he'll accept reluctantly or he'll decline with an underlying tone of longing he doesn't want you to notice. because as much of a good hold dan heng has on nonchalance, he cannot deny that this particular gesture of yours has left a mark on him.

(it remains persistently.)

when he rests his head on your lap, he can't help but take a deep inhale - your fragrance fills his senses and he discards the selfish desire to keep it all to himself. your fingers are soothing as they thread through his hair gently. the feeling that washes over him is serene, almost comparable to submerging himself in the pure waters of scalegorge waterscape.

when overcome by such a tranquil state of mind, dan heng wonders what expression he might be making at that moment? he always keeps his eyes closed, so it's a shame he may never know. but you do, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so at peace before like he does now.

(perhaps, that's why you keep offering him this in the first place.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“someone looks tired,” you state with a pointed stare. the archives isn't a room too spacious and the only ones here are you and him. the target of your sentence is obvious.

but dan heng doesn't take the bait, barely looks away from the entry he is currently authoring. still, he spares you a glance and hums glibly, “are you projecting? if so, feel free to use my bed in the meantime.”

you let out a noise, something gibberish that conveys disappointment but it is effectively drowned out by the typing noises. “you haven't even touched the food i bought you,” your voice becomes mellow, “why don't you rest for a while?”

he isn't convinced, you think, since his fingers are still hard at work. the new info the team brought back must've been a lot if he's that focused.

“dan heng?” you try again, hopeful for the last time. you don't take him for a fool, of course, he'll know when he reaches his limit and have proper rest then. but would that really be ideal? a second passes and that hope flickers like a dimming light. but just an inch before the edge of giving up, the typing slows to a stop.

“. . .alright,” he murmurs. finally, after a good hour spent drawing patterns on his backside with your eyes, dan heng turns around to face you. he look tense, you note with abject concern.

“here,” you usher him to your lap, empty and conveniently so. dan heng shoots you a blank look - this isn't the first time you offered and this isn't the first time he reacted like that. you try to suppress a laugh, failing gloriously at it. “just for a little bit,” you utter through a stifled fit of chuckles.

dan heng shakes his head, not in rejection but in defeat. his eyes slip close, second nature, as he leans to situate his head on your lap. you welcome him with a hum and let your fingers card through his hair. a calm sigh falls from his lips like a water droplet in springtime.

“this. . . is nice,” he admits, sudden and unprompted. you nearly doubt your ears for a moment there. did he— “i don't hate it is, uhm, what i mean to say,” dan heng adds and it dawns on you that your ears are still working. his eyes are still closed, not that you'd expect anything else, he prefers to treat it as a shield from being face-to-face with embarrassment.

(or to avoid your ecstatic gaze. he can feel warmth rushing to his cheeks already.)

“i know,” you smile, brushing away a few messy strands from his forehead. he isn't an open book but you think you've read the pages enough to remember all the little details. “but thanks for telling me. i'm no mind reader but i think i can read yours pretty well.”

“i shall provide no further comment,” he holds back an incredulous exhale, yet his lips still curl slightly at the corner. you feel the teeniest desire to trace the curve of his lips with your fingertip but settle for silently admiring them instead.

“it's fine. i know the answer already,” you say, words dripping with affection. such a shame dan heng never looks up at you during a time like this. because if he did, he wouldn't have missed seeing the sheer fondness in your gaze that rains down on him in light showers. a true shame.

(one day, he'll gather the courage. maybe.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. ♡

[snekdood]

idk who needs to hear this but its okay to hate ppl. its ok to distrust ppl. no, obviously, you shouldn't do anything stupid and hurt someone. no, obviously, you shouldn't lock yourself away forever. but I don't think most ppl who feel these kinds of ways actually want to do that and are more or less just frustrated and trying to express that emotion. I think suppressing it is worse.

dont let tumblr people make you feel like a shitty person just because you want to feel your emotions.

[sonolynn]

Forbidden Fruit

summary | Jace didn't want her, but Aemond did.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

tags | 18+ MDNI, Jealously, Aemond yearning, explicit sexual content, mentions of bastards, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, size kink (?), oral f!receiving, Angst if you squint. "Technical" infidelity but is it really if Jace started it? (yes). ooc!Aemond (probably). NOT PROOF READ (its one am, leave me alone).

w.c | 3.8k

note(s) | My first smut fic!! Ah I'm scared...I also think I have a problem with making Aemond want fem!reader when he rightfully can't have her. Also I swear I'm not a Jace hater!! I love Jace, but in this fic specifically I made him long and wish for Baela.

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“Why don’t you marry her then?” 

Aegon’s voice was taunting, as if pushing Aemond to say something. Aemond stared down at the cup in front of him; even with a stoic expression, his mannerisms betrayed him. He tapped his finger against the edge of the cup, he picked at the skin around his nails on the opposite hand-all the tell tale signs of thinking, a mind that cannot be stopped. 

“Because she is betrothed to Rhaenyra’s bastard.” His voice dripped with malice as he spoke. Aemond hated that Jacerys would inherit the throne enough; What his bastard nephew didn’t need was the girl Aemond had wished for his entire life. Ever since the two of them were children Aemond had a…weird infatuation with her. When he was a boy, he would pick flowers from the garden and he would purposely do good deeds for her, just to have her hug him or smile graciously at him. 

But now, everything was different. She was a woman grown, and him a man grown. She was to be engaged to his bastard nephew, and he would have to sit and watch as they shared a kiss, held hands, smiled and danced as newlyweds. He’d have to hold a straight face as the two of them left to Jacerys’ bed chamber, only knowing the connotations that came with what would happen on their wedding night. 

Ignoring his brother's tedious rants about hells knows what, Aemond stood from his chair, opting for a walk in the gardens.

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Aemond walked, hands clasped behind his back, and his gaze drifted into nothingness as he walked with just his thoughts, and the cool breeze that accompanied the summer evenings. He tried to distract himself from the thoughts of her, for they were all almost too painful to ever truly think about. 

But he couldn’t help himself. He thought of her as a sickness, one that lingered and grew stronger by the day until it fully consumed your every waking moment. He thought of her laugh just as contagious as the plague, her eyes as intoxicating as the finest of wines. He thought her to be a type of sickness, and he so desperately wanted to be affected. 

Aemond was never one to smile-one to truly-smile, his half smirks or half smiles were only ever in a sarcastic sense, but for some reason his smiles were real with her. With her he laughed a little more, with her he walked a little faster. He knew it was stupid, perhaps perpetually idiotic-to ever think, let alone long for such a pure and innocent creature. 

As Aemond walked, he noticed her sitting by one of the fountains in the garden. She looked breathtaking, he thought to himself. Her hair was down and cascaded down her shoulders, her face was just the perfect amount of shaded with the moon's light. And above all, she held that intoxicating smile that she always held. He never knew why she was always smiling, nor did he wish to find out. 

She turned her head, her smile widening at the sight of Aemond. 

“Aemond!” Her voice was cheerful, slowly standing as he walked towards her. 

“Princess,” Aemond smiled-a half smile-at her as he looked around, then slowly back at her. “It’s quite late. Should you not be in your chambers?” 

She always thought the way he cared for her, even if he didn’t show it outright, was extremely enticing. She knew how he was with others, but she knew the differences he had with almost everyone in court-so what made her so different? Why her, the object of the second son's affection. 

“Perhaps I do not wish to sleep. Perhaps…I quite like the quietness of the garden.” She smiled innocently, looking back towards the fountain as she started to walk. Aemond knew her well enough to see that this was a quiet plea for him to join her; Because no matter how much she enjoyed the quietness of the garden, she enjoyed it much more when he was with her. 

Aemond stared at her, as he often did, but this time, it was different. The stare he held was nothing short of primal. He watched the light in her eyes as she smiled up at him and for some reason, now, he wished to watch as the innocent light in her eyes slowly dwindled as he claimed her. 

“Aemond? Is something wrong?” Her voice snapped his thoughts back, if only for a moment. She stopped walking to look up at him and she crossed her arms underneath her chest. His eye trailed down slowly, fixating on the way that her cleavage just slightly out of her dress. He was like a man starved; Clinging to the littlest of details that would make his imagination run wild. 

She seemed to notice the way that his eye raked over her chest like a starving man, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She-though subconsciously-reached up to place her arm over her chest, but to her surprise, Aemond gently took her hand, and when she looked up, his one sapphire eye was locked with hers. 

“You needn’t cover up. Not around me.” He spoke calmly, though his heart was racing and his head spinning. He let out a shaky breath as he lowered her hand and looked into her eyes. 

She watched him carefully, searching his gaze for anything that would betray him. In truth she didn’t know what she was searching for, but she felt as if she should be searching for something. 

Aemond lifted a hand, placing the back of his knuckles against her hot cheek. The gesture was gentle, and slow, something he was not known for. His eye slowly trailed down her face, and his eye caught on her lips, his breath heavy as he reached his hand up and gently placed his thumb over her plush bottom lip. 

Her eyes followed his, big, and full of longing. She stared at him as his thumb pushed against her lip. She didn’t know exactly what to do; She knew that this moment was intimate, far too intimate to be happening between a betrothed woman and a bachelor. But, the way he gazed at her made her feel hot, and the way he trailed his hand over her face and body made her want to see where this could lead. 

His free hand shakily went up to her waist, cupping it firmly as he brought her closer. He leaned forward, just slightly, till his nose was pressed against hers. Her breath hitched, and her eyes instinctively closed. She waited for him to press his lips against hers, to feel his mouth on hers like she had (shamefully) always wished for. But, it never came. 

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Aemond breathing heavily, desperately trying to restrain himself. He pulled away slightly, and he shook his head,

“I shouldn’t take advantage of you…not like this.” Though his words held conviction, it seemed his body betrayed him. His hand stayed on her waist, slowly trailing up and cupping her breast in his hand. She gasped softly at the feeling, and his thumb went to her lip again before he connected his lips to hers. She responded immediately, putting her hands on his arms. 

He kissed her like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled her flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup her face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have her closer. He opened his mouth, causing her to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against hers. Her mouth moved with his as if it was known to her; As if this was a dance she had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of her lips was a song that Aemond had mastered just for her. 

She practically melted in his arms. She had been kissed before; Jace was a good kisser but he was soft, and the kisses were never not chaste. But, kissing Aemond was like walking through fire. Her entire body reacted to the way he clung to her body, how he pulled her impossibly closer. It was like a fire had escaped through his lips and was now coursing through her veins and settling in her abdomen. 

Even though she didn’t know exactly what to do, it seemed her body did. Her hands slid down his arms and slowly made their way to his chest as she moaned softly. 

The moan grounded him, like he had been falling from the heavens and down to earth. He suddenly pulled away, breathless as he stared down at her. Her eyes opened steadily, and she looked up at him with confusion while a frown graced her kiss swollen lips. 

“We shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke breathlessly, his hand still gently stroking her side. 

“Maybe not..but it felt good.” Gods, the way she spoke held him in a chokehold. He wished desperately to dive back into her; To drown in her lips and never come up for air, but.. 

“Not again. You are to be married.” He suddenly pulled away and at the feeling of his hands leaving her body, she frowned deeper. 

“Aemond-” “Goodnight, Princess.” 

And with that, the prince turned and rushed back into the keep. 

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Aemond couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, picking at his nails, biting his lip-genuinely anything to help stop the incessant thoughts of her lips. 

The thoughts started off sweet and innocent. The way she looked up at him as he trailed his thumb over her lip, the way her lips pursed just slightly when he leaned forward. 

But then the thoughts got venereal fast. He thought about how he felt to finally kiss her. The way his lips practically burned when they pulled away. He knew that as he gazed at her kiss swollen lips his night would be harbored with thoughts of what they’d look like doing gods knows what else. 

His hand slid down underneath the sheets, firmly grasping at his length as he let out a shuddering breath. He hated doing this; Feeling so pent up and so desperate that he had to resort to using himself. But as of right now he couldn’t care less. 

He imagined her lips around his cock, her innocent eyes gazing up into his. He’d imagine the way she’d gag around him, how her lips would look kissing the head of his cock. 

He groaned at the thought, his head tipping back as he closed his eye and let his thoughts wander more. He’d think about how she’d look with his seed covering her lips and her chin, how she’d moan his name as he devoured her between her legs-

He peaked with a gasp, and a low moan of her name. The minute his orgasm washed over him, and he started to slowly come down, he felt an intense feeling of guilt, shame, but most of all pain. 

Guilt and shame because he hated himself for touching himself to someone who couldn’t be his. 

Pain because she’d never be his. Pain because he knew that no matter what he did, she’d still be betrothed to Jacerys. 

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The next morning, she sat alone at breakfast, supposedly liking it more that way. With her fiance practically ignoring her, and her father too entranced with kissing the king's ass, she learned to enjoy the solitude of just…nothing. 

Plus, she always had her thoughts. Even if they were only occupied with Aemond. 

She played around with the food on her plate as her mind trailed. She remembered the way he kissed her, how he held her. She felt happy, something she so rarely felt with Jacerys. 

She knew how he felt, how he longed for and wished for Baela. She did not blame him, she was beautiful, but she also didn’t feel sad, which, at a point did bother her but, not so much. 

At least, not after last night. 

She smiled to herself as she thought about the kiss, wishing that he would do it again, longing for the way the heat escalated through her body. 

She didn’t register the voice next to her until it spoke her name. 

She looked up, surprised. But, when her eyes met with Aemond’s, her heartbeat quickened, and she smiled. 

“Aemond.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“What?” “You’re not eating.” “Oh,” Her cheeks flushed red for a reason unbeknownst to her, and with a soft huff, she pushed the plate away, “It seems as though I have lost my appetite.” 

Aemond looked concerned at that, and he looked down at her. Despite himself, he found himself worrying yet again for her comfort, her needs. 

“Is something the matter?” She shakes her head, but for some reason, Aemond was persistent. “If this is about what happened last night, then I should apologize-” 

“Apologize?” She interrupted, sitting up straighter at the mention of the word. “Why?” 

“Yes…apologize. Because we should not have done that-”

“But I wanted it to happen.” 

Aemomd stopped and he slowly looked towards her. His eye pierced into hers as if to read every thought and emotion that crossed her brain. He just simply couldn’t believe her. 

“You shouldn’t say things you do not mean, Princess.”

“You don’t know that I don’t mean it.”

“Princess-”

“Aemond.” She said his name as if to challenge him, and he knew that he truly could never challenge her. He saw it in her eyes, he saw by the way she looked at him and smiled that she wished for him just as he wished for her. But these feelings-these blockages-would only cause unnecessary trouble. 

“Please, do not give me a hope that cannot be upheld.” Her heart broke a little at that, and, as he stood to leave, she instinctively stood with him, taking his wrist in her hand as she pulled on his arm. As if the small gesture would stop him from walking, (it did). 

“Aemond please..You do not know what I wish for.” 

His lip curled down into a small frown as he looked at her. He knew what she felt-at least he thought he did-but even if his suspicions were right, even if she did wish for him like how he longed for her, he couldn’t. He may dislike, perhaps even hate his nephew, but he was better than stealing his fiance. 

Right?

“We cannot. To be with you would disgrace your family and the alliance-” 

“Fuck the alliance!” She swore, her eyes boring into his as she studied his face. “Fuck the alliances Aemond, I wish for you. Desperately, I wish for you. Jace does not see me like how you do. Jace does not make me feel the way that you do-”

“It does not matter if Jace makes you happy or if he makes you feel desired-” “He does not wish for me as you do!”

“Princess-” “You do not understand! We are speaking of breaking it off. Neither of us wish for this.” Aemond went quiet at this and he sighed heavily, turning his full body towards her. He pried his arm away from her, staring at her incredulously, his body language giving no open window to how he was truly feeling. With no words coming from him, she continued. 

“I love you.” At those words Aemond showed his shock. He took a step back from her and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You do not mean-”

“Oh for the love of-Yes! I mean it! I love you, Aemond! I love you as if it is breathing! Instinctively, not thinking about it….I love you.” 

Aemond couldn’t hold it anymore, he walked to her and gripped her face tightly, her cheeks squishing slightly in his grasp as he smashed his lips against hers. She initially was shocked at the sudden kiss, but she kissed him back fiercely, holding his wrists as she leaned up to kiss him deeper. 

He led her back until he pressed her back against the table, holding her thighs as he pushed her onto the table. His body fit perfectly in between her thighs, just like he imagined it would. His hands gripped her thighs, one of his hands traveling up, feeling and savoring the soft skin as he groaned. 

She pulled away from the kiss to leave small kisses along his jaw. He bit his lip at the feeling, the action presumably so innocent and so sweet it almost made him chuckle. 

He pulled back slightly, his gaze intense and lust filled as his hand trailed underneath her breasts. 

“Tell me to stop.” He demanded. His head was spinning with the lust that clouded it. He waited for her to push him away, or to whimper a soft “I do not think myself ready”- But she shook her head, bringing his head back to hers swiftly to connect their lips in another passionate kiss. 

He pulled away from the kiss, groaning to himself as he left hot, open mouthed kisses against her jaw and neck. He looked down, his breath heavy as he stared down into her cleavage. He wished for nothing more than to rip her dress open and kiss every inch of her body, but being in the dining room came with its disadvantages. So, he settled for kissing her cleavage, before trailing his lips down the fabric of her dress till he came to her thighs.

Aemond pushed her dress up as far as he could, staring at her the whole time. He slowly pushed her thighs about, giving her time to stop him but she never did. Gently kissing the inner side of her thigh, he tried to reassure her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes; The way she looked at him with both anxiety and lust. He stared up at her searching for any sign or signal that would make him stop. 

“Is this okay?” Once he saw the light nod of her head, he disappeared underneath her dress. 

She had never been intimate with a man-courtesy of her father, enforcing the “Women should be pure” melodramatic speech into her head ever since she could stand. She always thought it to be a chore, only having heard stories from unhappy married women who hated their husbands, and much less disliked their children a little less, but this? This was exciting, this felt good. 

She placed a hand on his head, moaning his name under her breath as he ate her like a beast. His hands gripped her thighs as if to ground himself-He had tasted women before but for some reason she was so much sweeter, so much more divine. His eyes practically rolled back just from pushing his tongue into her heat, sucking gently on her flit before he pulled away slightly, focusing his attention on her clit as he dipped a finger inside of her. 

The sudden stretch made her jump, and gasp loudly. She may have pleasured herself before but it really never felt like what Aemond was doing to her. He eased his finger in slowly, dragging it back out, and then slowly pushing it back in. Hearing the moans that graced her lips, he continued the slow thrust of his finger for a moment before he added another one. 

She let out a loud moan, a hand on the back of his head as she pushed his head closer to her heat. She felt him chuckle against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure. She moaned loudly, perhaps too loudly for comfort, but Aemond only seemed to want more of those noises to come from her. 

He slowly curled his fingers, his mouth praising her clit. The added pressure with the curl of his fingers, and the sucking of her clit made her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Oh gods Aemond, I’m going to-” Just as her orgasm was going to consume her, it stopped. With her heavy breathing, and slightly shaky legs, she slowly sat up. Aemond smirked up at her, holding her gaze as he nipped at her inner thighs. “You stopped..” 

“Yes. Because if you are going to peak it should be on my cock.” 

Her face flushed at the words, and she stared at him with wide eyes as he pulled his trousers down slightly to free his throbbing cock. As their eyes met, he seemed to notice the slight anxiety in her eyes, because he pressed his forehead against hers and lined himself up with her entrance. 

“Tell me to stop if it hurts too much.” She nodded in response, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as he pushed into her. She let out a gasp; The feeling was new, discomfiting but..new. Her face scrunched up at the stretch, and Aemond shushed her quietly as he started to move. After a few thrusts, her body relaxed, and she started to moan his name. 

Hearing his name fall from her lips was like a prayer answered, like a lifelong dream he had been waiting for. He grunted as he started to rock his hips back and forth into her slowly. It took everything inside of him to not pound into her, to fuck her like he had fantized about. He wished that her father could see her now, her maidenhood gone and her body fully submitting to the pleasure he so gracefully gave her. 

“Aemond..Aemond oh gods-” Her voice broke as he went faster, her moans only getting louder. She tried to wrap her mind around the pleasure he was giving her, the way his hips moved slowly yet deeply, the way the tip of his thick cock rubbed against the spot so deliciously. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she held him close to her. 

One of his hands was on her thigh, the other on the table as he thrusted into her, as if holding the edge of the table would stop the creaking sounds, or the way she moaned his name, or how his groans got louder as his climax approached. 

White splattered her vision as her orgasm washed over. She cried out his name in pleasure, holding him close as his legs trapped him inside of her. The feeling of her core pulsating and tightening made Aemond’s head spin, and he grunted out a moan of her name as he came himself, spilling his seed inside of her. 

As the two sat there, basking in the afterglow of being intimate, neither of them would move for what felt like hours. Even though the position that they were in was compromising, they smiled, and laughed softly at the situation itself. 

Once they both got cleaned up-the best they could get cleaned up for just having sex on the dining room table-Aemond took her hand. She smiled softly at Aemond, her heart racing in a new, and exciting way. The two stared at each other for a while, trying to wrap their minds around the fact that now, they could truly be together, or at least, now, they had a hope that they could be together.

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