#also it isn’t supposed to snow (it better fucking not)

[threnodians]

the way that i desperately do not want to go to work tomorrow night, i am genuinely so over it for the first time ever (at least it’s only 3hrs but i am probably going to have to stay late which seems to be a recurring thing nowadays but hey extra money am i right)

anyways ily all and i appreciate you all and i hope that you’re all having a lovely day/night/whatever it is where you are 💕

[stunie]

i just WOKE UP !!?????!!!!!!

2024.07.15 — dinner date with Ume. ♡

(hands up if you know where the reference photo’s froooommmmm!!!! >:3 aju nice.)

[phfenomena]

❝i hope i was your favorite crime.❞ || coriolanus snow x f!reader

| request- hi! i was wondering if you could do a corio x plinth reader where he aproches her bc she is a plinth (and she notices and gets mad bc she think that corio takes her for a stupid girl who would just fall for his lies) but he slowly falls for her. i would really like if it ends well, like them together. i hope you understood my idea, i love your work btw.

| A/N- i wanted so bad to make sooooo angsty but i fought the demons. def ooc everybody besides festus. fuck you festus. hope you like it as much as i do 🫶🏻

| WARNINGS- alcohol consumption, creepy men, bad fathers (relatable), nice coriolanus snow, festus creed (he deserves a warning), eating, making out, traumatized sejanus (im sorry sejanus i love you)

the eldest plinth daughter. not an heir, but something you’d want to marry into. if you could get her, you’d never need to do anything again in your life. coriolanus knew that, he reveled in that. he’d never met her, all the times he went over to the plinth’s apartment she was either out or the door to her bedroom was tightly locked- not accepting visitors.

he wondered what she did with her time, was she in university? sejanus seems to never talk about his sister unless someone asks. but yet here she was. a floor length silver dress caught coriolanus’ eye, turning his head to follow the figure. she stood tall and confidently next to her brother. his eyes cascaded over the entire family, all in the same tantalizing silver. they were brightly shining in the ballroom of the benefit. it’d be hard to ignore them. he hated that.

he studied her, they way he could almost see a resemblance to sejanus but feeling as if he’s grasping at straws. her left hand holding a champagne glass she hasn’t drank from, and her right hand resting on sejanus’ shoulder. she’s nodding along to whatever nonsense pup harrington is spitting at her, no doubt making a pass.

she excuses herself and points at her glass, which is now empty after having to listen to the poor boy. when she reaches the full glasses lined up on the table coriolanus makes his move. “hello, ms.plinth.” her head turns to him and her eyes narrow. “coriolanus snow. my brothers supposed best friend- where’s tigris? i like her.” she quickly downs the glass and reaches for another. coriolanus can feel the disdain for him leaking out of her pores.

“she’s, um, she’s back at home. with grandma’am. she is quite nice to be around, isn’t she? how are you enjoying your night?” he attempts to flip the conversation back to her- oh wait, she’s not even looking at him anymore. her eyes find sejanus’ as he’s talking to livia cardew, and she begins walking in his direction. “nice talking to you, coriolanus.” but he felt like it definitely wasn’t nice. was he wanting to marry her for her money? yes. but was she also beautiful and apparently quite funny, as ma plinth has said? also yes.

she spent the rest of night collecting champagne glasses and not leaving sejanus’ side. even he was beginning to get bothered by the bachelors approaching his sister. she leaned against the back wall, yes, another glass in hand. she’d gotten roped into a conversation with festus, clearly tortuous. coriolanus was standing with sejanus about a foot away, so sejanus could keep and eye on festus.

“it’s just so frustrating, coryo! all these guys coming up and trying to make a pass at my sister while i’m right there, if i didn’t know any better i would’ve taken pup harrington outside. you should’ve heard some of the stuff he was saying to her. it’s horrible.” sejanus rants while staring at festus. “well, she’s gonna have to get married eventually, sejanus.” coriolanus says with a slight smile to his bestfriend.

“i know that, just none of these guys. we’ve been everyday with them at the academy. you know how bad they are, the shit they say about women in general. i don’t want those guys with her.” it’s obvious he’s quite over protective of her, even though she’s three years older than him. coriolanus nods along with him and pats his back.

“i’ll go save her.” coriolanus comforts his friend and makes his way to festus. “sejanus said he needed your opinion on some ideas for the food, seemed urgent.” she nods and offers a knowing smile to coriolanus. festus leans his head on the wall “man! i really felt like i was getting somewhere with her” coriolanus rests a hand on his shoulder. “trust me, you definitely weren’t.”

the party has picked up and died down, everyone sitting to eat but coriolanus couldn’t seem to figure out where she was. she wasn’t sitting with her family and unless she had friends he didn’t know, he couldn’t see her anywhere. he’d made his way outside to take a breather from all the talking and hugging old people who knew his parents.

that’s when his eyes laid upon the girl in the silver dress, and he took a seat next to her on the steps. she’s staring out into the gardens and her eyes are glazed over. no champagne glass in her hand this time. she doesn’t turn to look at him.

“i’m really drunk right now and i hate almost everyone in there. all they care about is money and those stupid hunger games.” she confided in him and rested her chin on her arms that are wrapped around her knees. “yeah, you didn’t look like you were having a great time. i tried counting how many glasses you had but i lost count after ten.” she lightly laughed and shook her head.

“i think it was thirteen but i’m not sure, i drank four while festus was chirping in my ear about how many children he wanted.” she feigned chills at the mention of his name and they laughed. she turned to look at him with a barley noticeable smile “you’re not like them, are you? you’re more like sejanus. quiet and doesn’t bother women they want to marry.” the comparison of sejanus would normally upset him, but coming from her it felt the highest compliment a man could receive.

she rubbed her hands over her arms to conserve warmth and coriolanus quickly removed his blazer to wrap around her and she muttered a small thanks. resuming her staring at the gardens. “would you like to grab you some water? or something to eat? it’s not gonna be very good for you tomorrow morning if you don’t eat something.” he whispers towards and she nods her head.

as coriolanus is walking back in, the plinths are walking out. “hey coryo. we’re heading home for the night as ma doesn’t feel too well, have you seen-“ coriolanus points outside “she’s on the steps, make sure she eats something when you get home. way too much champagne for a human.” seianus claps his hand against coriolanus’ chest and continues outside.

the sun is battering down on the capitol but the plinths home is cooler than a beautiful spring day, probably for the hungover girl inside. coriolanus knocks on the door and smiles as his eyes meet ma’s. “oh! coriolanus, it’s so good to see you. we didn’t talk much last night. come in! i just finished up some pies!” she ushers him inside as sejanus joins them in his mothers corner of the kitchen.

after the grueling and quite long conversation with ma coriolanus excused himself. sejanus seemingly interested in this new sugar ma had found. as coriolanus rounded the corner to her room, he stopped. suddenly feeling quite nervous and as if he might throw up. her bedroom door opened and her eyes meet his, he looks down and she’s holding his blazer out. “i heard you talking to ma, here this.” her calloused tone returns, maybe she only likes him she’s drunk. he better find a lot more champagne.

the plinth family plus coriolanus are sitting in the sun room, drinking iced tea and munching on whatever treats ma had baked. “so, coriolanus, do you have any plans on getting married after university?” strabo’s deep and rough voice cut over his wife’s story.

coriolanus set his tea down “i’d hope so, certainly.” his eyes skip between strabo and his daughter. she’s sitting with her knees pulled up to chest and she’s looking out the window. “well you know how much we’d love to have you in the family, we could arrange your marriage with-“ she sets her cup down harshly and stands up.

“you always do this! could you just leave me alone? maybe i don’t want to get married, ma said it was fine if i didn’t marry.” she’s waving her hands around and waits for him to answer. when she’s met with silence she storms out and slams the sunroom door. “strabo, you can’t make her marry someone she doesn’t love.” someone she doesn’t love.

coriolanus stands up and thanks them for the tea. “tigris wanted to head to the market and i’d never let her go alone, i’ll see you guys tomorrow night.”

he walks by her door and tries the handle, quietly. he fully expected it to be locked but the door swings open and she’s laying face down on the bed. “sejanus, go away.” she grumbled through her mattress. “it’s not sejanus.” she sighs and sits up, staring at him.

“do you not knock before entering a room?” she tilted her head and studied him. “i expected it to be locked, sorry. i’ll knock next time.” his eyes seem to gravitate towards the floor and he can’t will himself to bring them back up.

“i’m sorry about my father. i’m sure it made you very uncomfortable, he’s just always trying to marry me off.” her hands fidget awkwardly in her lap. “i wasn’t too uncomfortable, any guy would be lucky to marry you. i always heard that you were quite mean, i’ve yet to see that.”

she scoffed and turned her head to the window. “they only say that because i don’t hesitate to speak my mind. i taught sejanus that. i am definitely what they call me, but only to them.” why does she feel so comfortable spilling her guts to him?

“i saw you and sejanus’ sister a few minutes ago, coriolanus. are you willing to deal with her grating voice and attitude for the plinths money?” arachne sneers towards him and the group laughs. “it helps that she’s pretty, it’s already hard enough trying to talk to her.” coriolanus regrets it the second it escapes his mouth.

she liked him. she really did like coriolanus snow, but who doesn’t? she weaved her way through the crowd trying to escape him. he was hot on her trail until he catches up to her in one of the various bedrooms inside the ravinstalls estate.

“do you think i’m stupid, coriolanus? be honest.” he scrambles to find the words but his brain couldn’t function in the one moment he desperately needed it. “i said you were different, i talked to you about things i liked, i would tell ma all about you. but you aren’t different, you’re just like the others.” he ran his hand through his hair. “i was different, i am different. i don’t know why i said that, it just came out. i didn’t mean it, i promise.”

he attempted to take her hand but she ripped out of his grasp and stomped out of the room. shit.

the next day her door was locked. and the next. and the next. he wasn’t even sure she was there anymore. sejanus hasn’t mentioned anything but he wished he would. he wished he would tell him if she was okay or if he majorly screwed up.

as coriolanus and sejanus sit in the sunroom attempting to study, there’s a knock on the door. coriolanus cranes his neck to see festus ravinstill standing there with a bouquet of flowers. god, this kid is tragic. but then he sees you, take the flowers with a smile and a kiss on his cheek. strabo’s never looked happier.

coriolanus suffered in silence watching festus become a daily guest and drowning out sejanus’ complaints about him being there. for once in his life, he agreed with sejanus. when he enters the kitchen to refill his glass of lemonade he sees her watering the plants in the kitchen.

“don’t marry him. he won’t be good to you.” she drops her head and turns to him. “and you would?” she spits back sending him into a whirlwind. “yes.” he whispers out and she takes a few steps closer to him. “festus is nice and fathers happy with this. i don’t have another choice, coriolanus. i have to do this” how does she always sound so sure of herself? maybe coriolanus could take a class from her.

their eyes finally meet, after weeks of not seeing her eyes, she’s finally looking at him. “you could marry me, instead. i wouldn’t treat you like a prize, like festus would.” she steps impossibly closer and he feels like he can’t breathe when she’s around. oxygen becomes molasses and his knees become jelly.

she looks over coriolanus’ shoulder and stands up on her toes to kiss him. he takes a moment to catch on but he his hands find purchase on her waist and he leans down. all nerves thrown out the window and all he can think of is her, how she tastes, how she smells, he can’t even remember who festus is.

her hands wind his curly hair around her fingers as she swipes her tongue against his own and he pushes her against the refrigerator, causing a few magnets to fall onto the floor. his hands are trailing up and down the waist of the yellow dress she had decided to wear that day.

festus had left the plinths the second he saw her look at him over coriolanus’ shoulder. knowing he lost and there’s nothing he could’ve done.

she pulls back, panting. “i’ll marry you, just don’t call me annoying again.” her lipstick is smeared across both of their mouths and he gives her a dopey smile. “i wouldn’t dream of it” he brushes stray hair out of her face.

“in the kitchen?! we make food there!” sejanus is standing in the doorway, seemingly traumatized. “sorry, sej.” he shakes his head walking away but throwing a secretive thumbs up at coriolanus.

[rhiannonsknife]

heyyy first of all, i just needed to say that your writing is soooo fucking good like i was genuinely impressed when you said that english isn't your first language because I can't imagine how this could get any better. Also, it isn’t only about the way you write but also the way you just get each character perfectly. That's just... woah, just woah. So yeah, I hope you keep on writing for a long time for the sake of everyone's happiness lol

And lastly, you remembered us about how you also write for the rest of the yellowjackets, not that I don't enjoy the whole "let's give love to all ella purnell's characters" thing going on here buuuut i remembered one scenario has been in my mind for a while and I'd love if you wrote about it.

Shauna, after losing so much to the wilderness, carries this relentless, overwhelming anger that keeps most of the other girls at a distance. Even those who aren't outright scared of her still know better than to get too close. She obviously needs love and comfort, but god help anyone who tries to say that to her. And then r decides to take a shot, carefully inching closer without setting her off. Slowly but surely, r makes progress. First, just being allowed in Shauna's space, then a hand on her shoulder, brushing her hand, maybe even touching her hair. When Shauna finally lets her guard down, r sees just how touch-starved she really is, how deeply she needs someone to just be there, to be her person.

Shauna and r start disappearing for hours, slipping off to somewhere, maybe the airplane, where r can pepper her face with kisses, making her feel safe. And Shauna just lets herself melt in those moments, holding r close.

my mind just goes ogdofgkditwukymg w her

── NO ONE COULD SAVE ME BUT YOU

— summary: shauna shipman needs a hug. that’s it. that’s the summary.

— warnings: hurt/comfort. canon typical dark themes. implied cannibalism (duh). child loss. etc. so: angst. some fluff. did not beta-read this. + i had no clue how to start or end this fic.

— a/n: woah thank you so so much!! i genuinely appreciate that <3 i’m not planning on stopping any time soon! anyway, i hope you like how this turned out!!

out here, she’s lost everything. you all know it, though none of you dares to actually talk about it. it doesn’t come as much of a surprise that she’s beginning to lose herself too. it’s concerning all the same.

shauna still gets her chores done, so it is not like you don’t have her support in this poorly built system, this attempt to keep things under control when -really- all last restraints of control were lost the morning you’d found jackie’s body, buried in the snow, and with all that came after that. the things no one ever speaks about.

perhaps that is why none of the girls have approached her yet: as long as she does what she’s supposed to do, why would anyone try and cross her, or potentially upset her? after what she’s done to lottie, it’s no surprise. sometimes, in moments during which you find yourself staring at her hands for reasons beyond you, you can see the flash of a scar, standing out against the thin skin of her knuckles.

maybe they’re scared of her. or scared of what she’s become, out here. it doesn’t make a difference. maybe you should all be scared of what you’ve become.

either way, it’s not fair. you obviously know that she needs the same comfort some of the other girls have found in each other, whether shauna wants to admit it or not.

so you -with nothing better to do for the most part- make it your mission to be this comfort for her.

at first, shauna gives you short, cold responses when you try to make small talk, but you keep at it. there’s nowhere to go anyway, nowhere she could flee to get away from your slightly awkward attempts to just talk. it’s a first step.

gradually, you notice her replies get a little longer, her posture softens, just slightly, and she doesn’t seem so quick to brush you off. a small sign, but it means you’re beginning to earn her trust. you don’t talk, not always. sometimes, you’ll just linger nearby and watch her prepare the last remaining pieces of meat or sit in the same room as she scribbles in the journal she’s brought from home.

sitting with shauna in silence becomes its own form of closeness; she doesn’t say much, but she lets you be near her. you can’t remember, now that you think about it, when she was last hugged. when she last felt the touch of another person. your heart aches at this realization. could it have been jackie? it already feels like a whole lifetime ago, that she'd been among the group.

over time, she actually starts letting you sit close enough that your legs touch. you hope it’s her way of saying that maybe she doesn’t mind your presence as much as she lets on.

one day, after a particularly hard night, you take a chance and rest a hand on shauna’s shoulder. you’ve noticed, even from a distance, that she doesn’t sleep well. truthfully, no one out here does. but, with your makeshift mattress closest to the spot she’s preoccupied in the farthest corner of the room, you often notice the way she flinches in her sleep, or shoots up in the middle of the night, panting heavily.

when you notice it that night, you slip out of the more or less comfortable ‘warmth’ of your blankets and make your way over to her.

she tenses, but for a moment, she doesn’t pull away. her silence feels like a monumental moment, a sign that she’s slowly starting to let her walls down. you sit like this, hidden by the darkness of the cabin and with none of the others awake, for a long moment. neither of you moves, neither of you even dares to breathe, afraid it’ll pass by as fast as it has come. then, she shrugs away from your grip and mutters: “i’m fine”. she’s not, obviously. but you take it as a small victory. you’ve felt the way she relaxed under your hold, the way she didn’t immediately push you away.

as weeks pass, you notice shauna becoming less and less guarded in your presence. she’s still wary, still sharp, but you can sense the small shifts, a quiet murmur here, a shared look there, that suggest she’s warming up to having you close.

maybe that night is what’s to blame, or maybe she’s genuinely beginning to realize how much she craves the warmth of another person. your warmth.

it’s one of these days where she’s angrily scribbling down words into her journal when shauna reaches a first ‘breaking point’. she’s sitting beside you in silence, the weight of the wilderness and the day pressing down on both of you. the only noise is the angry scrape of her pencil against paper. in a rare moment of boldness, you reach out, brushing a strand of her hair back from her face.

you’re not sure why you do it. but shauna seems so far away from everything, so detached from the reality you live in, that you just want to offer her something grounding.

her first reaction is to freeze, her eyes widening with a flicker of surprise, and you nearly pull your hand away, wondering if you’ve overstepped. but instead, shauna lets out a breath and holds still, allowing you to tuck the strand behind her ear. as your fingers brush her cheek, you can feel her breath catch, her defenses lowering just a little. it’s a brief, fragile moment, but one that feels much bigger to you: an unspoken acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, she’ll allow more of this.

that’s when things begin to change: shauna starts looking for you after difficult moments, lingering by your side in ways that tell you she needs someone, even if she won’t say it; too stubborn to ever admit it out loud. she lets you take her hand quietly, her thumb rubbing yours a wordless promise that, just for a while, she’ll let you be her safe place.

it becomes routine for you and shauna to disappear to some quiet spot when the cabin feels too heavy. no one has figured you out yet, although you’re sure that they can put two and two together by now: tai has caught your eye, the last time you sneaked off together and lottie has long claimed that the wilderness has its fucked up ways of communicating with her. whether any of it is true or not, something about the glances she shoots in your direction tells you that she knows. that she might even appreciate it, though that could just be because she won’t be the outlet for shauna’s anger anymore.

after a particularly tense exchange with the others, she brushes past you, muttering, “let’s go.” you follow her immediately, of course, and the two of you wind through the forest until you reach the plane’s wreckage. inside, it’s silent and dim, a place that’s somehow managed to become a safe haven. the last reminder of civilization, somewhere far far away from you.

shauna lets herself lean back against the metal frame, shoulders dropping in relief, her usual guarded expression softening as you sit close beside her.

she doesn’t say anything, but her hand finds yours, squeezing it tightly, as if she’s grounding herself in your presence. then, in a rare show of vulnerability, she leans her head on your shoulder, her eyes closing as she lets out a shaky sigh. you wrap an arm around her, pull her closer, and let her melt into you, feeling her tension slowly give way as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

together, you stay like that for hours, just holding each other. shauna curls into your arms, letting herself fully relax in the quiet. you actually dare to cradle her head and press gentle kisses to her forehead, feeling her melt into your embrace, and trusting you in a way she hasn’t trusted anyone else in a long, long time.

“you’re…you’re way too soft for this place, you know that?” you hear her whispering. she doesn’t stop you, though.

when it’s time to return, shauna doesn’t say a word but gives you a look that says it all: gratitude, trust, and something almost like relief.

even when you’re not together, shauna’s glances toward you become longer, her eyes lingering with something that remains unspoken, as if she’s trying to understand this newfound feeling.

around the others, she is still hesitant to be openly affectionate. in the cabin, it is only late at night, when it’s just the two of you, that she lets herself fall into your arms. It’s the only time she allows herself to be unguarded, clinging to you silently as if afraid you’ll vanish too if she lets go.

that same night, you catch a quiet confession under her ragged breath. she’s facing the other way, letting you spoon her from behind. only this way, does she dare to open up about how everything seems to slip away from her. she’s scared but hides it behind anger and frustration. you’re the first person allowed to see her tears.

you can’t even begin to imagine what she’s going through. all the things she’s been robbed of: girlhood, like all of you. even if you’re ever rescued (which seems less likely with every day that passes) how are you supposed to move on? how are you supposed to live, like none of this ever happened? her best friend, who no one dares to talk about anymore, afraid it’ll bring back the things you’ve done. it’s like she was never here at all which, you think, must be even worse. motherhood, too, though she never even wanted it. no one seems to acknowledge that, out of everyone out here, she might just be the one to have lost everything to the wilderness.

in an attempt to comfort her, you trace mindless shapes against the back of her hand, slowly soothing her back to sleep. the letters of her name, a loopy S, gliding across her scarred knuckles with a tenderness so contrary to everything these hands have done. your own name, next. you hear a gentle chuckle coming from shauna. she knows what you’re doing, of course. you don’t stop.

the outline of wiskayok, as you remember from the map. she doesn’t seem to recognize this one, a little crease between her brows. “home” you tell her quietly and the crease vanishes.

it feels surreal that, somewhere out there, home is still a place. that wiskayok still exists to the people, to your families, your classmates, and everyone else back there. that it’s more than just a fading memory.

“you suck at drawing” she finally manages. it’s the first time you can hear the glimpse of amusement in her voice.

“what? you think you’re any better?” you whisper quietly, wanting it to last.

shauna shifts beside you, and takes your hand with a gentleness you didn’t think she possessed still.

now it’s your turn to lay back and feel. she starts with words. “yellowjackets” she spells out. a small smile flashes over your features as shauna studies your face attentively. then, though it’s harder to make out, she traces the word: “champions”. your heart feels heavy with everything that could’ve been.

shapes are next: a tiny heart, resembling the shape of jackie's necklace, then a simple circle.

"that's a soccer ball" she whispers expertly. for the first time, you laugh. it only lasts a short moment before you remember where you are, and that the others are trying to sleep just a couple of meters from you.

you fall asleep with her hand in your own, as both of your eyes grow too tired and you drift off together.

other nights, when she’s fast asleep and -for once- doesn’t seem haunted by nightmares, you find yourself watching over her. it’s the only time you get to see her the way she’d once been: when her features aren’t tense or pained, but relaxed. when she’s the girl you met at the very first soccer practice years ago, who hasn’t known any of the things that’ll happen to her in this lifetime. you stay up all night, only realizing how much time has passed when light starts spilling into the cabin and she stirs up.

you know shauna hates being pitied. so while you do feel for her, instead of asking if she’s okay, you just stay close, offering your warmth and presence. when shauna’s frustration bubbles over, she lets herself scream or cry in your arms, knowing you won’t turn her away. you hold her tightly all through the waves of emotions, murmuring quiet reassurances, and she clings to you, even as she struggles to accept that someone genuinely cares.

“everyone else… they don’t understand. they couldn’t. but you-“ she murmurs softly. “you’re the only one who sees me. the only one who wants to.”

shauna begins to show subtle signs of protectiveness over you, too: always looking out for you and offering the little comforts she can manage. even though her gestures are often quieter than yours, and less obvious, she's found her own way of showing she’s come to care for you, and that she’s willing to fight for you as much as you’re willing to be there for her out there!! <3

[hauntedhokage]

Snowball Season

Sylus/GN!MC

word count: 700(ish)

note: for @silverrings-n-prettythings, because a bet is a bet. Barely proofread

“The boss has never been in a snowball fight before.”

“Is that information that is supposed to be surprising, Kieran?” 

Your question has both twins tilting their heads, the smiles you’d never seen but could imagine clearly hiding behind their masks. Why would it matter that their boss hadn’t been in a snowball fight? His childhood hadn’t been discussed, but you knew it didn’t involve games in the snow during. He wasn’t exactly seeking those moments of whimsy as an adult, either. 

“Not surprising, but maybe you should do something about it.”

It’s your turn to tilt your head, Luke’s suggestion causing you to close your book and set it on the coffee table so you could properly look at them. When interacting with Luke and Kieran it was always safest to assume that they were fucking with you to try and amuse their boss. After thoroughly vetting whatever information they were offering you would act either in compliance with their suggestion or in contradiction, but this instance was unique. 

“Are you telling me that Sylus wants to be in a snowball fight?”

“With you, probably.”

“With us? Probably not.”

“So you want a snowball fight with the boss?” Two identical eager nods, Luke’s hood almost falling off with the motion. “We’ll have to plan, just asking him isn’t going to get the answer we want.”

Sylus was going to be onto you three almost immediately, since a kitten and two crows was a combination that spelled trouble for him, but it was always worth a shot. He did always seem to reward the twins’ efforts and entertain whatever request you had since you amused him so much, so either way you were going to get what you wanted to some extent. You weren’t naive enough to believe that the twins weren’t trying to manipulate the affection Sylus held for you and how it differed from the affection he held for them, if they thought they could get him to agree to a snowball fight without your contribution of “a pout that could be so pathetic it was deadly” - the bonus here was that you also wanted to see Onychinus’ big bad leader tag one of his closest subordinates with a snowball. Or at least attempt to. Luke and Kieran were fast when they were feeling lazy, you’re sure motivation would have them nearly invisible to your eye which would make them difficult to hit. 

You’d have to build in a condition that they let you get at least one hit before they go all out. 

A week later finds a thick blanket of snow covering the park with the most open space in Linkon City. The snowfall from the night before had left Sylus delaying his return to the N109 Zone until the roads had cleared up, creating the perfect window of opportunity for Operation Snowman: Plan B. Getting him to go out with you hadn’t been difficult, a romantic stroll in the snow to a nearby cafe had been exactly what you both had needed after a late night watching the snow flurries from your balcony. The walk through the park is simply a way for you to extend your time with him - a half truth exposed when the first snowball makes its way through the air. 

The snowball that you’re sure was meant for Sylus’ back missed its mark due to his need to bend over and check the laces of his boots. Instead that cold compacted ball of frozen water connects with your forehead, splattering on contact to spread across your face and down the opening of your coat. 

“Not the mark but just as entertaining,” Luke states, face conferred not by its usual beaked mask but instead a merlot dyed scarf concealing his nose, mouth, and chin. “My aim was always better.”

Kieran, standing identical to Luke, only shrugs while preparing another snowball. They’re grinning, eyes sparkling with mirth as they remain locked onto you and their now-standing boss. “Get ready, your team is already losing, boss.”

“Is that so?” Sylus’ amused chuckle pierces the quiet air of the park, and you see that he’s got a snowball of his own in his hand already. “You’d better collect yourself, sweetie, I know how you hate to lose."

[queuestarter]

static

(finnick odair x reader)

cw: explicit language, mentions of prostitution, angst

link to the request → reader and finnick get into an argument

open to submissions/asks !!

You watch the television with blood shot eyes. You’ve been staring blankly at the screen since President Snow announced the Quarter Quell.

You’re not sure how long it’s been- maybe six hours? All you know is that Caesar isn’t on the screen anymore, which is a shame.

You kind of like Caesar.

“Can you acknowledge me now? Or do you need to stare at the screen some more?” You hear Finnick ask you from where he stands in the doorway.

You didn’t realize he had come back home.

Your eyes snap away from the television to him. He looks disheveled. His hair is a mess and his eyes are red but not from overuse like yours are. You can see the lines going down his cheeks from where tears have dried.

“I didn’t realize you were going to come back so soon. Thought you would want to spend the rest of the day with Annie.” The words come out snarky, which you don’t intend for. You’re just stressed out and it seems that now is the perfect time for all of your pent up frustrations to make their way out.

“Oh, of course, bring her up,” he scoffs. “At least she can admit that she needs me around.”

You clench your fists in your lap, true anger forming. “And what does that mean?”

He lets out a deep breath through his nose. “I’m just saying that maybe my time today was better spent comforting someone who actually needed it.”

“I didn’t need your comfort?” You scream, standing to your feet. “I didn’t need you when my entire life just got turned upside down again? You know, Finnick, sometimes it would be nice to  have my own boyfriend here!”

“What was I supposed to do for you when you get in your own head and refuse to speak to me? Sit there and stare at Caesar fucking Flickerman smiling on the television for the entire day like you want to do? No- I’m going to go comfort my best friend when she needs me!”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Have you ever considered the fact that maybe the reason why I don’t ask for comfort from you is because I’ve learned not to expect it? You spend all your time in the Capitol, these days. Forgive me for leaning on myself.”

Finnick stalks closer towards you but you refuse to back down. This fight has clearly been a long time coming and you want to hash it out, now, before the tensions get any worse.

“You can’t blame me for being in the Capitol. You know why I’m there,” he hisses, poison lacing each word. 

You laugh. You actually laugh at that. “I’m not blaming you, Finnick, I’m just sick of this. In case you forgot, I also experience the same shit that you do. But at least I actually come home at the end of the day.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “So what does this mean for us?”

You blink. Your fists unclench. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Part of me feels like maybe this relationship has run its course but I still love you more than words can describe.”

He reaches out and grabs your hands, running his fingers over your knuckles. “I love you too.”

“We need to get our shit together,” you laugh without any amusement, tears suddenly welling up in your eyes. You’re not really angry anymore, just upset.

“We do,” he agrees.

“I don’t want to go into the Quell with this looming over me, I just want us back,” you continue on.

His grip on your fingers tightens. “You’re not going into the Quell.”

You can’t help but laugh in his face. “Don’t be stupid, Finn. It’s either Annie, Mags, or me and you have to know neither of them would have any chance of making it.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not going back in. What if I get reaped, too? I can’t watch you die,” his voice breaks.

“There’s so many other men here who have a chance to get picked,” you whisper, gripping his hand back just as tightly. “Besides, Annie’s gonna need someone to keep her sane.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he whispers back, fresh tears pooling under his eyes.

“We’ll get through it. Let’s just… let’s just promise to never let things get this bad again.”

He kisses your forehead before smothering you in a hug. “I promise.”

-

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 18

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

Warnings: hey did u know this slow burn has some smut in it ;)

A/N: dividers by me, many many thanks to @desertbcrnnobody for the beta assist and PetrichorBather for help on the line about shipwrecks <3 y'all r priceless and ily. also, HAPPY 100K BROKEN ON COMMON GROUNDS I DIDN'T THINK WE'D GET THIS FAR

series masterlist

chapter 18: yet hanging in the stars

Qimir drove them east out of the city. Osha never needed to leave the city limits, what with the infrastructure supporting millions of lives that never needed to leave. In fact, Osha never left the city except for the tournaments—she had not attended the funerals following their orphaning, and Mae had stayed with her instead of attending herself.

They didn’t talk about it. At least, Osha didn’t talk about it. She didn’t talk about the frigid, impersonal visits to the frigid, impersonal graveyard where their mothers and two dozen other women were buried alongside them. She didn’t talk about how there was a strange disconnect between her mind knowing they were dead, and not knowing they were laid to rest. Anybody could be lying in a grave if there’s no proof of it.

Mae didn’t talk about the screaming nightmares she suffered for years. Sol certainly didn’t talk about it with them.

In that apartment, silence always spoke louder than anyone who dared break it.

They passed the graveyard as they headed east, and Osha said nothing.

They passed the exit that once stood for almost home, the one that led to a dirt road that would take them to the charred, decrepit husk of what was once a flourishing, colorful homestead.

She still said nothing.

Yet—

The scent-memory of smoke and gasoline lingered.

If her mood was markedly subdued for that stretch of highway, Qimir didn’t comment on it. He didn’t ask her how dinner with Sol and Mae went, but she told him it went fine anyway. Osha didn’t ask him how the drive back from Khofar went, but he told her it went fine as well. According to him, she knew him better than anybody else knew him, but in the moments of silence like this where they were both lost in thought, she could still call him a stranger.

I’m an open book. For you.

It made her questions all the more frustrating. There was some kind of block in her head, some barrier preventing her from just asking about all the confusing things that had been kicking around in her head since—well, since meeting him. Why were you even renting a place out in the middle of nowhere? The fuck is up with Idise? What are you lying to me about? What aren’t you telling me?

Weakly, she supposed whatever answers those questions would yield could only spell disaster for the uneasy relief between them. Why are you complaining? He’s back, isn’t he? Why risk running him off again with the reminders of whatever pushed him away in the first place? 

More and more questions, less and less answers.

…spoke a lot of words; I don’t know if I spoke the truth—got so much to lose, got so much to prove… God, don’t let me lose my mind…

“It’s not far,” he said, breaking the quietude that settled like snow even on the soft music from his iPod. “Have you never been out here?”

A loaded question. Osha clicked on the metaphorical safety for her answer. “Not this far, no.”

“The competitions were always more up north, huh?” he said, drifting back to shared (if uncomfortable) territory—the competition circuit.

“Yeah. The comp team is caravaning to Theed tomorrow, so I’ll have four whole days to myself. Kana offered me so many shifts,” she chuckled.

“Four whole days, huh?” he said, eyes flicking briefly to her though his focus remained on the road. “And what are you going to do with all that time to yourself, birthday girl?”

“I was hoping to make it your problem.”

A slow smile crept up his lips as he smirked out through the windscreen. “That so?”

“Is so.” Maybe four whole days will get me to just fucking ask one single question—

“Maybe we should have a sleepover one of those days. While the cats are away, so to speak.”

Her heart leapt in her throat. “A sleepover?”

Instead of clarifying, laughing it off, or any number of deflections, he took her hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “A sleepover.”

Infuriating man.

She turned the tables on him, bringing his hand to her lips so she could press a kiss to his knuckles. Against the smooth skin there, she murmured, “I can think of a lot of things to do at a sleepover, stranger.”

His eyes burned as they caught her gaze now, and slowly, almost daring—he brought his hand down to rest on Osha’s thigh. It was warm, and huge, and she knew the strength of it from many hours spent in the gym together. He brought her hydroplaning mind back to earth as he squeezed her leg once.

“So can I.”

It felt like all the air in the car had been sucked out with those three little words. She was vaguely aware of her gaping expression, the speechless stupor he’d sent her into with nothing but his hand.

“Is this alright?” he asked, thumb twitching against the outer seam of her jeans.

She nodded dumbly.

“Use your words, Osha,” he teased, voice dropping to depths only known to shipwrecks. He knew what he was doing to her, and she loved it—as much as it flustered her.

She cleared her throat. “It’s alright.”

For the rest of the drive, Osha was aware of little else but his hand—the minute fidgeting, his thumbnail scraping idly over every thick stitch through denim, the gentle flex and tap of his fingers moving in time with whatever song was playing. What little conversation they’d been having had ground to a full fucking stop, now that his hand seemed intent on melting her every thought from the inside out.

If he hadn’t needed to take his hand off of her to do so, she wouldn’t have caught the fact he was exiting off the highway. They went back and forth down a winding, tree-lined road that he drove with the utter confidence of a man who knew where the fuck he was going, despite not using a map or GPS or anything. It made the random-ass stop on a deserted road confusing, however.

“Where are—whoa!” she exclaimed, bracing herself with the handle as he took a right—

Straight into a field.

Qimir only laughed, driving further and further into the field. “Almost the-ere,” he said, sing-song.

“This is absolutely ‘taking the victim to a secondary location’ behavior!” she protested, but laughter bubbled up at just how silly it felt to dip and bump up and down in his little shitbox car. She would never have been able to drive as confidently as he did—not to mention, her cute little two-door sedan would never have made it past the shoulder.

Qimir stopped just as abruptly as he’d plunged them off the road. He hummed, pleased with himself. “We’re here.”

“Where the hell is here?”

He didn’t answer, killing the engine and getting out to get something from the trunk. Osha attempted to put herself to rights, using the mirror on his visor to check her makeup. She regretted the lengths to which she attempted her makeup: if they were going to be in the dark, he couldn’t appreciate it.

You can dress up for yourself, you know.

Medora’s words brought a smile to her face, and she snapped the visor closed before she could convince herself back into regret. 

Her door opened. “C’mon,” Qimir said. The light from the car’s interior only shone onto the lower part of his face, leaving his eyes in shadow. He had a few blankets in his arms and a little box she couldn’t readily recognize. Qimir and his weird little machines. She joined him in the cold and dark, offering her hand to share some of the burden. Qimir instead shifted all of his load to one arm and took her hand.

Well then.

They didn’t walk too far from the car. The field he’d driven them into was full of dead grass, rocks, and loose dirt, which made her wonder—“Are there snakes out here?” Osha was suddenly paranoid about the possibility and strained to listen for rattles or hissing. She focused on her footwork, not wanting to lose her new, precious ankle strength to a stray snakehole.

“It’s past deadwinter, but not so far past that the snakes want to hang out.”

“Deadwinter?”

“Have you never heard someone call it that?”

“I’ve heard the dead of winter, but never deadwinter.”

“They mean the same thing: high summer, the height of summer, the middle of summer, midsummer. There are many names to describe the same thing. Haven’t you read any Shakespeare?”

“Only when forced, and like almost ten years ago.”

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose / by any other name would still smell as sweet.”

“You’re reading me poetry on my birthday?” Osha said, a little flustered by the subtle flex.

Qimir turned to her with a smile she could barely make out. She could only really see the glint of his teeth. “Yes, I am. Poetry from a tragedy, but poetry nonetheless. And in quite the romantic setting, if I say so myself.”

“A frozen field of dead grass and sleeping snakes is romantic to you?”

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her, his lips finding hers like iron found a lodestone. Osha briefly forgot about the cold and the snakes and the field. When he’d kissed his fill of her, he tilted her head back with a finger beneath her chin.

The stars stared back at her, beckoning with twinkling lights—so far away, yet within the reach of her gaze. Osha’s jaw dropped open at their brilliance. No wonder he drove them out so far; he wanted to escape the light pollution.

Where would you go?

If I left the city?

Hm.

I don’t know. Somewhere I could see the stars, maybe?

Even the moon was brighter than she’d seen in ages. In the city, she could occasionally see the moon through the smoggy sky—and when she was lucky, she saw a few bright stars. It wasn’t worth looking up when the skies were so disappointing—compared to her childhood memories, at least.

Her mother had taught her the names of the constellations: Orion, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia, Cygnus, Taurus, Gemini—that was the one she pointed out first to Qimir. She couldn’t remember many others (and perhaps it wasn’t the right time of year for that anyway) but she would always remember the lesson where she was shown Gemini. One pale, slender hand, pointing into the cosmos, and a lilting, accented voice, saying—

The Twins, like you. The Hunter, Orion, stands guard while they sleep, or perhaps he is following them. What do you think, my love?

“There’s Gemini,” she said, breaking the silence at long last. “Castor and Pollux. The Twins.”

“Which is which?” Qimir asked softly.

“I thought you could tell twins apart,” she smirked, shaking off some of her bewildered awe to tease him.

Qimir pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Only some,” he murmured. “Happy birthday, Osha.”

He’d given her the stars.

Her heart did flips in her chest the entire time they set up, their progress interrupted by the ensorcelling awe of looking up every few seconds—as if she had to constantly remind herself the stars hadn’t moved. The small device he brought with them revealed itself to be a portable space heater, which he set on the tarp and not among the dry, dead grass.

They rolled down onto the pallet together and Osha squeaked when he pulled her whole body against his, deftly maneuvering her how he wished. The ease with which he moved her made her go a little lightheaded with want. Fuck, he can manhandle me anytime he wants. She rested her head against his chest, and he squeezed his hand against her ribs. “One more thing.” He tugged a blanket over them, enclosing them in a cozy, dark warmth that fought against the chill of the elements around them.

“There. Comfy?” he checked.

“Very,” she said, melting into his side. She could hear the steady beat of his heart, and she worried it would carry her to sleep if she wasn’t paying attention.

Nobody had done such a thing for her before. Her birthdays in childhood were full of warmth, bonfires and sweets. But those were celebrations of more than just herself, or even her and her sister. This was a gift solely for her to enjoy, all because he thought she would like it. She didn’t know how much she would like such a gift until she found herself rambling about the stars above, memories of those lessons with her moth unraveling like thread around a spool. What’s more, Qimir listened to her. She was slightly amazed that she remembered as much as she did. But she quietly named individual stars, planets, and constellations until her voice tired out.

“Is your heater gas-powered?” she asked, sniffing a little. “It smells like gasoline.”

He sighed, and it sounded more like he was disappointed—in himself. “No, it’s the blankets. My gas tank has issues, and I kept the blankets in the trunk a little too long; I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said sweetly, trying her best to ignore the scent on the blankets while she continued to speak. “The moon looks so beautiful, doesn’t it?” she asked.

She didn’t know why his heart started racing, but she could practically feel it tapping her cheek. She shifted and turned her head to look down at him.

He looked a bit dumbstruck, though he was just staring up at the stars. He turned his head to look at her, mouth somewhat agape. A shaky breath sawed out of him, nearly a wheezed laugh of disbelief. How strange.

“What?” she laughed.

“I… yes. The moon does look beautiful,” he agreed.

He wasn’t even looking at the moon.

Qimir and his… well. His whole deal.

She told him about her childhood. Her mama taught her to read, write, and do math, but her mother taught her to read things unseen by the eyes: stars, cards, palms, and the like.

Osha told her of the nights they would sit on the roof, naming constellations until the sun chased them all to bed. Osha remembered the way her mother used to look at the stars. It was the same way she looked at her and Mae when she thought they couldn’t see: glowing amber eyes full of all the love and joy she did not often show to them.

“…The compound always had someone casting a spell, performing a ritual, or crafting charms. Unplan kind of reminds me of that time. I haven’t followed the moon phases in almost 20 years, but I love getting to do it again. It was such a beautiful place to grow up. Women weaving at looms, countless voices harmonizing in songs, laughing with one another. I didn’t know any of that was weird or other back then. I didn’t know it was strange until Sol—” A sudden wave of sadness crashed over her, and the happy memory she’d been holding onto began to slip from her grasp. “I just thought—yeah, this is normal. Home was always more like… a coven, than a—”

Well. The newspapers had called it a cult.

All at once, the atmosphere changed. She could feel the cold again, and the sticky-uncomfortable sweat that had crept beneath her socks and her arms. The invading silence threatened to stretch on forever, but—

“They were your family,” Qimir said, offering an escape from her sudden despair.

But Osha couldn’t grasp that lifeline again. She tried to hide the single tear that slipped from her eye, but Qimir was too close not to catch it. “Are you alright?” he murmured.

She nodded, sniffling a little. “I think Mae had a point, seeing their graves earlier this week.” She swallowed down the growing thickness in her throat. “We lost them when we were 10. The summer after we turned 20, I think I could feel that I’d lived more of my life without them than with them. But we didn’t… we don’t talk about them. That’s why it was so shocking to me that she went at all. It’s just not something we do—we’ve never talked about what happened, not really.”

He hummed softly, a noise of understanding. “You can talk to me anytime you want, you know,” he said.

She snuggled in closer. “I know,” she said.

More silence passed, and the pressure in Osha’s heart built and built. The stars now looked a little dimmer overhead. If she let herself think how she used to, she could imagine they were giving them privacy.

The stars look back upon you as well, her mother had told her. The lucky stars only shine on the ones who see their light. These are the eyes of the ones we grieve. When I die, I shall be among them, looking down and watching over you and your sister. So look up, Osha. Look up.

Her heart ached with the effort of holding back her pain. A part of her still felt ashamed to grieve her mothers, to miss them at all. She’d gained a father from the deaths of her mothers, and Sol tried his best to fill in the gaps in her jagged, broken heart. Mae always seemed fine, connecting to Sol much easier than she had. It felt like, for that week she was in the hospital, Mae had completely rebounded from the life they lost—and from all the lives lost.

Sol had never adequately filled the hole in her heart where her mothers had been ripped away. She no longer had that warmth and togetherness she remembered from her birthdays in the beautiful, resplendent Before. All she’d been offered after was cold money and colder crystal—just the memory of what used to be.

Qimir held her while she cried into his shoulder, arms coming up to hide her from the universe where nobody could see her, not even the stars—hidden from her mothers, eternally waiting for her to look up. She sobbed against him, setting free out a flood of long-imprisoned emotions until her voice sounded as raw as she felt.

He did not shy away from her feelings. He did not flinch from her tears as Vernestra had. He did not run from her grief as Sol did. He did not find her emotions daunting or intimidating, as Mae did. But their fear did not mean she needed to change for their comfort. Osha felt her emotions so deeply. They were like a trench dug in her heart, their depths so dark and overwhelming that she’d only ever felt loneliness at the bottom of it all.

I promised myself I would never love someone who wasn’t willing to go as deep as I can.

A peek at Qimir showed a sight she never thought she’d see: tears on his face, illuminated by starlight above. His face was pained, but not from anything physical—it wasn’t the mask she remembered from training. This was an emotional pain, one she remembered from that first day in his apartment when he told her about his childhood. She remembered seeing him like this when dancing, asking him a question to which she knew the answer in her heart. His physical agony protected the broken heart it stemmed from, because this was a pain he couldn’t massage or numb away.

Because she knew that pain, she pressed their faces together, not in a kiss but in comfort, giving and taking. Their faces were wet and cold despite the warmth of the space between them. He brought his other arm up to wrap around her, crushing their bodies together as they quietly wept. Even as she wondered what he cried for, she felt a lot less lonely at the bottom of that trench in her heart.

A realization came like a bolt from the blue, a secret whispered from her heart to her ear. 

You love him. 

It was at once the heaviest and lightest secret she ever held, for it squirmed and thrashed from her heart in a desperate bid to be shared with him. Her mind caught it behind the bars of not the right time and it’s too soon to say it. Whatever delicate balance that kept them together, she didn’t think it could weather her whispering those three words right now.

I love you was a struck match. Attraction, glances, touches, kisses—those things were sparks, either catching heartstrings on fire or failing in a cough of smoke. Some hearts were made of kindling, ready for the match and burning bright and fast; other hearts were made of stubborn, damp timber. But hearts and hearths alike needed tending, feeding to burn through the darkest, coldest nights.

Osha knew the only warmth those words would bring now would be something akin to heartburn.

When they pulled back, eyes still glittering with unshed tears and unspoken things, she quietly thumbed away the tears on his face. He did the same for her, reverence in his starlit gaze as he fulfilled his duty. When he finished, he leaned down to kiss her lips, a soft thing that tasted of salt and starlight. The wave of grief had passed, and the storm was kept at bay another night.

For the first time, she didn’t feel the overwhelming need to apologize for crying.

She kissed him again, deeper. Their passion and heat charged in like a cavalry, decimating the lingering despair—at least while they touched. Osha wasn’t foolish enough to think her stranger’s affection would fully heal those broken pieces; especially if her own family hadn’t done so. But perhaps, with him, she could let him shore up the sides of her strength while she healed those sharp points herself. 

His hands were warm against her face, and she brought her own hands down to push under his t-shirt. She was going to kiss him again when her hands touched the smooth skin of his abdomen, but he jolted suddenly, making a noise of surprise. She didn’t draw back, peering closer at his suddenly very-neutral expression. “Are you… ticklish, stranger?” 

He scowled—no, that was another pout. “No, your hands are just blocks of ice,” he protested.

“No, they’re not.” She put her hands back on the trim, muscled sides of his torso and he squirmed back—“Look at you slithering! There are snakes out here! Ticklish snakes!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking ab-out—!”

She pounced. It was much the same position as he’d gotten her in, nights and nights ago, up in his dressing room. Her hands pinned his shoulders to the blanket, and her hips drove between his thighs to keep him where she wanted him. Qimir’s eyes widened, the struggle draining from him for several long, stunned seconds.

She’d taken him off guard. He looked just as surprised as she was.

Then, his jaw set and his hands came up to knock at hers.

The brief scramble for purchase was riddled with laughter and light, the stars’ brightness returning to the sky as they grappled on the blanket. He eventually got the upper hand—because she let him.

Osha landed against the blanket with an oof—it wasn’t as soft a landing as the wrestling mats at Unknown Planet. He had her pinned with one hand splayed wide against her chest, the other hand locked around her hip to keep her in place. Looming over her, he kept her locked in a hold she probably couldn’t have broken even if she wanted to. He breathed a little hard, but the feral smile on his face spoke wonders about all those naughty things he wanted to do with her.

Hello, Smiley.

Osha grinned sharply back at him, drawing her free leg up, up, up against his. She didn’t have the angle, strength, or want to flip the script on him, but she could distract him. She could shift the tides from here. Leveraging the only emotion that consistently overtook him in the ring, she ground her hips up against him. That emotion?

Pure, unfiltered desire.

He shuddered at the move, eyes closing as he gave into the feeling for a few indulgent seconds. He was hard; she could feel the burning heat of him against her inner thigh. When she sought to take more ground, he reinforced his pin on her. His eyes blazed hot as he glared down at her. “You know, Unplan doesn’t like this kind of fighting. Kind of obscene, don’t you think?”

“I thought you wanted to fight however you wanted.” She rolled her hips again. “Maybe I do, too.” She was openly tempting fate—and him. 

She wondered which was more powerful.

He smirked. She could practically hear him speaking directly into her mind—you’re playing with fire, Osha. She returned his gaze with a relaxed come-hither look.

To her disappointment, he released her, letting the air surge in between their heated bodies in a shock of cold.

“What?” she whined, pouting. She couldn’t free her hands to paw at him to get him to return, but she struggled against him.

“I’m not fucking you for the first time in a freezing cold field.”

Despite the furious heat that ignited in her face at the idea, she begrudgingly understood. “But we’re under the stars,” she protested anyway. And we don’t have to go all the way…

“Let’s raincheck the under-the-stars sex for spring; how’s that sound.” He sat back on his knees and helped her to sit up. Qimir rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed and calming his breathing—and perhaps, his dick. When she finally did the same, he said, “We’ve been out here for a few hours, and it’s only going to get colder. Let’s head back.”

Mae had texted her while they’d been stargazing.

M: Sol passed out on our couch before I left lol

M: I’m stayin somewhere else tonight

O: Yikes

Hm. A sleepover sounded more and more appealing right about now.

O: I might do the same

Mae returned Osha’s message instantly, which made her cringe. She’d probably been waiting for a reply since she sent it two hours ago.

M: Probably a good idea, even if you ARE getting out of hungover Sol duty

M: He said some weird shit before he passed out but it just sounded like he wanted to talk to us

O: Sol wtf??

O: Did u find out why?

M: No, but I can try to ask when we’re in Theed

M: Are you still with you know who?

O: Tell me who ur staying the night with and I’ll tell u

Mae’s little ‘Typing…’ bubble appeared, then disappeared. Osha could imagine her pouting.

M: Jecki

O: I KNEW IT OMGGGG

M: SHHHHH

M: It’s only practical I mean we’re driving to Theed together tomorrow adfjksjdhfsd

O: Suuuuuuuuure Mae suuuuuure

A few seconds passed without messages, and Osha knew she had to fulfill her end of the deal. But tonight had been so magical, she couldn’t bring herself to hide it from her sister.

O: I may be staying the night with him

O: I need to ask tho

She added one more thing, feeling oddly vulnerable while she did.

O: He took me stargazing

M: NO FUCKING WAY

Mae immediately tried to unsend her message, but Osha had already taken a hundred screenshots, cackling like the witches she was raised by. Osha teased her about breaking her three-year streak of not swearing, talking about framing that screenshot. They conversed mainly in emoji after that, teasing one another how they used to.

Osha knew things weren’t square between them. Mae was still extremely wary of Qimir even though she seemed… open to Osha seeing him. Qimir felt similarly about Mae, but based on his reactions to Osha’s reservations about granting forgiveness, he must have felt guilty about playing a part in the tension between the sisters. This birthday armistice had been nice, but Osha knew it would most likely end by morning.

She sighed and set down her phone after wishing Mae a good night. Her soul felt contented for the first time in a very long time.

“Everything alright?” Qimir asked, settling his hand back on her thigh now that they were back on the highway—heading west, outrunning the sunrise.

“Yeah, I just don’t wanna deal with my hungover dad when I get back.”

“What?” he said, concerned.

“Yeah, Mae said he celebrated our birthday too hard and passed out on our couch. But Mae left to hang out with her girlfriend so I’m stuck on drunk dad duty. And I totally knew Jecki was her girlfriend even though she didn’t say anything. I feel so vindicated.”

Her attempts at brushing past the uncomfortable parts of her story were met with tense silence, and her heart dropped. Qimir flexed his fingers over the steering wheel. “Does he do that a lot?” he asked softly.

The serious concern in his tone made her cringe. She made herself laugh, pushing levity into the air. “No, it’s not like—well, it’s not super often. We just—we always joke that for as much as Sol’s a welterweight, he’s outclassed against Mae’s mulled wine.”

No, they didn’t. Why would someone joke about that?

Qimir nodded tightly, and she felt her face go a little hot, blood going acidic with shame. The familiar words needed to defend Sol rose in her mouth like bile, but she didn’t spit them out like she’d done a hundred times before. It was probably good that she did—until Osha knew where Sol fit into everything, she didn’t want to praise him around Qimir. He was reacting a little strongly to her news, very tense and still and quiet about it. For all she knew, Sol was the one who—

No, don’t even imagine that, Osha.

Qimir was saying something.

“What?”

“I said, if that’s the case, you can stay the night at my place.”

I’m not fucking you for the first time in a freezing cold field, he’d said. And his apartment was certainly not freezing cold…

Her lips curled into a very self-satisfied grin. “Like a sleepover?”

“To sleep,” Qimir chuckled, knowing just where her mind had gone.

“But it’s my birthday,” she pouted, knowing she was being childish.

“You’re right, it is,” he said flatly. “For the next… fourteen minutes.”

The horny part of her brain that she’d recently allowed out on parole started rioting in the streets of her mind. NO!!!! He wants to sleep with you but in the WRONG WAY!!

A quick check-in with her body told her she was growing pretty tired—and he drove all the way here from Khofar earlier today, she reminded herself. 

“Do you want me to stay the night?” she asked.

The hand on her thigh flexed a little, as if he was keeping his hand from grabbing her impulsively. “I do,” he said, voice gone a little low—louder than he’d been speaking before.

“Then I would love to stay over. Thank you for offering.”

His hand grabbed hers to kiss her knuckles briefly before returning to its post on her thigh. She relaxed, and smiled for the rest of the drive back.

She took a step toward the trunk after they parked. “I can carry the blankets up,” she offered.

He waved her off, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. They can survive another night in the trunk.”

The walk to his apartment felt too similar to the last time she’d been there—three days ago, pacing the hall and wondering where he’d gone. Osha swallowed down the memory as he let them in.

The soft lamplight held a similar cozy glow as the stars, though not as cold and distant. This was a comfort she could touch, a relief within reach. She sat on his couch beside him as they took off their shoes, and he put them by the door along with their coats. Her heart did flips as she wondered repeatedly—is this where he drops the act? Is this where he comes out behind the door and grabs me in a passionate fervor and tosses me on the bed and tears my clothes off like a fierce conqueror indulging in the spoils of—

He returned bearing a few things—a shirt, a pair of basketball shorts, and a sheepish expression. “I’m a bit short on actual pajamas, but I hope these will do.”

No spoils of war this time, huh.

She zipped into the bathroom to change, schooling her wanton imagination at least for now. Like they did at Unplan, she kept the door cracked so they could talk if they wanted. But the energy here was much more charged than it was in Unplan, and it kept her from actually speaking as she disrobed.

What would happen if I just walked out there in nothing but my underwear? a reckless part of her posited.

Surely, nothing good. But perhaps… something great.

The demons were winning this war against her self-control, but in the end, she did not do any of those depraved things she’d been thinking about. I deserve a medal. 

He was in a deep spine stretch that even Osha probably couldn’t reach, despite her lifelong devotion to flexibility. Oh yeah. Nighttime stretches. There will be no warrior-maiden roleplay this evening. Bummer.

She had the perfect vantage point of him as he looked up and went preternaturally still. He didn’t even seem to breathe as his eyes raked across her body, taking in every inch of her as she moved closer. She settled before him and folded herself into a similar pose, holding eye contact as she wordlessly fell into her usual nighttime stretching routine.

He broke her gaze, and Osha caught the sliver of his smile a moment before he hid it in his stretch.

It felt unspeakably intimate, like sharing a sacred ritual only ever performed in private. The only noises were their breathing, the soft shift of fabric, and the brief slide of skin against skin. At some point, their breathing synced up, inhales matching exhales. Their internal clocks lined up such that they switched sides simultaneously without even speaking.

His routine was slightly longer than her own, but not overly so. Since he’d gotten a head start on her, they finished around the same time, two bodies laying beside one another in corpse pose. What a false term for such a serene position—especially when Osha had never felt so alive.

His hand brushed hers, probably a signal to sit up, but she laced her fingers with his instead. He didn’t miss a beat, squeezing her hand once and rolling to a seated position. She followed suit, though she liked the view of him slightly above her. 

Her suppositions from before had been correct. He looked tired, the hours of the day weighing on his face.

“Sleepy?” she asked.

He nodded. Osha brought his hand to her lap to lightly trace it with her fingertips. She marveled at how his bones turned smooth skin into bodily geography—knuckles making mountains and valleys, tendons in the back of his drawing lines like tilled earth all the way to his wrist, where soft blue veins carved rivers of blood in toward his heart and back again. A whole world upon his hand, and only she could see it, touch it.

He probably knew the anatomical names for every part of him she touched. He’d been trained to see the hand for its anatomy, for its limits and its functions. Osha had spent her childhood reading hands like divinity had whispered secrets into every dip, valley, ridge, and whorl.

I wonder if I still got it, she thought. How much her palmistry knowledge had been lost to fire and tragedy?

His palm told the story of a man riddled by betrayal and loneliness, his strength forged not in fire but by storms weathered. His soul was well-rooted, grounded in reality, not ambition, so spake his hand. What goals he had would be achieved, come hell or high water. She’d done this before, once—speaking with him in his office. Mount of Venus, heart line, fate line, life line. His heart started jagged but faint, and strengthened by degrees across his palm. His fate split in two early on, but skipped back to the same line after some time—and again, and again, and again. And his—

“What does my hand say?”

His voice broke the quiet like a spoon on burnt sugar. His fatigued smile still showed interest in her.

She’d read him the stars earlier, and she would have gladly read him his palm and his fortune, but perhaps first… a bit of mischief.

Osha bit back her grin and bent over his hand, rubbing her thumbs across the ridges and callouses. He held still, obedient despite her giving no orders. She hummed like she was deeply considering the quandary before her. She looked up, serious as the grave, and said, “It says you masturbate with this hand.”

His jaw went slack and a blush bloomed high in his cheeks before he laughed, probably too loud for this time of night. He sucked a breath in to possibly speak, but no words came out—only more peals of laughter. He didn’t move his hand from her hold, not even as he tossed his head back to laugh some more. Osha joined him, giggling over the joke.

In middle school, it had gotten out that she and Mae were raised by a cult of witches in the boonies. Mae had denounced it quite publicly, saying she didn’t believe in all that. 

(Osha knew better. Osha remembered how her sister earnestly bowed her head at the spells, moved with intention through forms, and assisted in moon rituals and holidays on the Wheel. Osha remembered when they were almost worshiped by the other women. Osha remembered that Mae liked it. Mae just liked being liked, and people liked you better when you weren’t weird. Osha never learned that lesson.)

But Osha had responded to the bullying in a different way. She could never block out the scorn or the teasing jokes, and she allowed it to incense her to the point where she could deftly shift the embarrassment back on her antagonizers. Osha had a million comebacks for every person who sought to ridicule the faith practices they were raised on: The cards told me your parents don’t love you. All the stars and planets have aligned to whisper a truth: you fucking suck. You masturbate with this hand. It earned her a reputation as someone not to be messed with, and she wore it proudly, even though it isolated her further from her peers.

But Qimir wasn’t a bully wheedling for her to read her fortune just to laugh at her. Qimir was playful, Qimir was fun. Qimir liked her jokes and made her feel like she could be herself again. He even made her feel a sliver of that worship that once made her uncomfortable—but not now.

“Your face—!” she laughed, nearly tipping to the side while Qimir gathered himself again.

“And you accuse me of playing with my food,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “You loved that.”

Shameless, she smiled. “Yes, I did.”

They soon lay on opposite sides of his bed. To sleep, he’d said. Insisted, really. The earlier laughter made it easier to stay on target, but when they were settled in, and the lights went out, all that potential for nighttime activities returned with hurricane force, battering against a crumbling sea wall of self-control. Osha swallowed, staring up at the darkness and chewing on her lip.

“For the record, your hand said you’d live a very long, healthy life,” she said, nerves coloring her voice. She couldn’t bring herself to say much else, let alone the things she’d actually read and felt. “I’m a bit rusty, though. You could die tomorrow, and it’s your hand’s fault.”

That selfsame hand came to wrap around one of hers, prying her fingers open from the claw they’d made around the comforter. Osha forced herself to relax, focusing on her breathing and her heart rate. He didn’t remark on her hasty words, and was quiet for so long she thought he’d fallen asleep. Just as she was about to doze off, he spoke.

“For the record, your original reading was accurate anyway.”

The noise Osha made wasn’t remotely human.

“Good night, Osha.”

Her senses awoke one by one—first, the smell of breakfast and coffee. Second, the sound of someone cooking said breakfast. Third—

God damn it, Qimir is not allowed to be that sexy first thing when I wake up.

She snuggled in closer to the pillow beneath her head to watch him work in comfort, hiding half her face beneath the covers. He’d opened the curtains over some of his windows for once, letting in the pale winter sunlight. It made him look like a carved marble statue come to life, leeched of his actual skin color but resplendent and perfect nonetheless.

His scar didn’t snag her gaze the way it had the first couple of times she’d seen him shirtless. It was part of him, a part of him that wouldn’t go away—the same as her scars. And she loved it just the same.

God, so I really do love him, don’t I? she thought to herself.

As if sensing her thoughts about him, he turned to look back over his shoulder. He had no shirt on, but… he’d put on his glasses? What the fuck, nerdy fantasies. There was a soft clatter as he set the pans to the side. Then, he set his sights on a new focus: her, awake. He was by her side in three long strides, and parked his ass right next to her on the bed.

Up close, his handsomeness was lethal. His hair fell loose around his face, still mussed on one side. Bedhead. “Good morning,” he said, resting one hand on her hip. He gently tugged the covers off her face when she didn’t readily respond.

She was still in that warm, hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, gaping at his (quite honestly) illegal I-woke-up-like-this hotness. He tilted his head to the side, inky black hair brushing over his stupid, broad shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes drifting off her face and down her body like he could X-ray image her through the covers.

“I’m okay!” she said, squeaking and moving to sit up too fast. She smacked her head against the wood headboard—“Fuuuuck!”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, helping her ease away from the headboard and guiding her to a seated position. His eyes had taken on a more serious glint.

Hello, Coach Lo will see you now.

Even his voice had dropped to that authoritative pitch. “That sounded like it h—”

“You’re too hot to be doing this right now,” she complained, interrupting him. “See? I have a concussion now.”

“H-how does that correlate?” he asked, voice gone a little high.

“Because you’re too goddamn pretty it breaks my brain,” she said flatly.

That same precious pink blush from the night before flared across his cheekbones. Osha reveled in how deeply she could fluster him. She was used to rattling his composure, just a shake of the bars on his self-made cage here and there. This wasn’t really rattling—this was something else, something that touched a little deeper than he thought someone could reach.

“I don’t—you. You’re beautiful,” he stammered.

His bashfulness was adorable. It was a marvel that he could ever step into the ring against another fighter, if he was so affected by something so terrifying as flattery.

“Yeah, well, who’s concussed?” she finally said, breath leaving her in a nervous tremble.

“You’re not concussed,” he laughed.

“You don’t know that,” she pouted.

He raised one eyebrow. “I’ve got a doctorate that says otherwise.”

“Do your athletes ever call you Doctor Loharne?” she said, holding onto the subject shift with both hands.

“Well, I’m a DPT, only MDs really get called Doctor.”

Pouting, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Semantics.”

He grasped her chin lightly between his fingertips, turning her face back to him in an aching, heart-stopping, knee-weakening gesture that stole her breath. “Follow my finger with your eyes,” he said, mock-serious. She was helpless but to follow his orders, playing along. “Hmm, pupils responding normally, if a bit dilated,” he smirked. “Do you know where you are?”

“Your apartment,” she scoffed, fighting back her smile.

“Where’d we go last night?”

“A random field off of ’77.”

“What’s your name?”

“Osha Aniseya.”

“And who am I?”

“You’re mine.”

His jaw dropped, allowing a startled breath to trip out of his lungs. His eyes went wide, but his blinks looked like he was forcing himself to do so. He looked seconds from pinching himself.

“Was that not the answer you were expecting?” she teased.

He fell toward her, leaning in to kiss her like a prince waking a princess—

Okay, warrior-maiden roleplay is back.

He moved his legs up to straddle over top of her, pinning her mostly beneath the covers as he kissed her. Still just in sweats, her hands yearned to touch him, greedy in a way she wasn’t used to. His lips moved smoothly over hers, but the sheer excitement and eagerness in his kisses belied his more affected nature.

He’d been feeling more around her—not only feeling, but showing her those feelings, too. His want, his desire, his affection. They were all there, but it was only recently that he made a choice to let her in on the secret. And knowing all this, she shared her secrets back. Osha moaned into his mouth, wrenching her hands free from their bedding prison so she could grab at him how she wanted.

It made his arms fucking buckle, the first time she dragged her nails over his shoulders. He pressed almost his full weight against her, his body rolling it into a smooth press against her. They were nearly flush, hip-to-hip and mouth-to-mouth at the bare minimum. And he was hungry. His lips found her mouth, her jaw, and her neck to nibble and bite and suck on. Osha gasped up at the ceiling, sensation sparking down her spine as heat pooled between her legs so quickly she would have swooned if she was standing.

He wasn’t disaffected by the closeness, either. As before, last night beneath the stars, he was hard against her, but instead of drawing back, he rolled his hips foward, joining her. He felt nearly searching, tentative as he felt out her comfort level with his.

That level was fucking high.

“Get off the sheets,” she mumbled, practically kicking them down and off of her. His dark chuckle, low and husky, accompanied her victory. Qimir kissed her again, settling between her thighs with an indulgent groan.

“Fuck, you already feel so good,” he sighed, breathing the words against her neck. He withdrew only a few inches, enough to see her eyes. His hands went to her hips, gripping them before hauling her halfway into his lap.

Osha’s mind shorted out as his erection pressed right against her clit—just a few swishy layers of fabric between them. But he didn’t move, waiting for her response. She considered their bodies, biting her lip and delighting in the swollen, tingling feeling he’d left her with. Whatever conscious consideration went into the glint of determination in her eyes, she hoped it was enough for him to continue.

Apparently it was as he continued to rock his hips forward. The entire searing length of him dragged over the second-best place it could, all told. She feared she’d burn beneath his touch if there were any fewer clothes between them. He pressed his face into her neck, mouthing and kissing over the spots that made her moan, and biting at the places that had her hips kicking up against his in helpless pleasure.

Time felt sticky, unimportant between them. They were racing for an end she couldn’t see but could feel fast approaching. Qimir’s bulk blocked out the majority of her vision when he rose onto his elbows above her. He didn’t speak, only looking down at her. His teeth glinted white behind the dark red flush in his parted lips. The expectation in her mind curled into confusion the longer he moved without speaking—and then her insides did a flip when she realized:

He wants to watch me come.

It felt like the breath was punched out of her, her body almost jolting at the next roll of his hips against her. How did he know? How did he know she could come just like this, with him pressed against her? Perhaps it was just how worked up he’d gotten her, perhaps it was the stars aligning for that perfect, perfect friction—whatever it was, he was confident about how this was going to go.

Her nails dug into his upper biceps, and her body went limp and pliant for him. Do as you will, the move said. I’m yours. At that thought, she whispered, “You’re mine.”

Qimir’s groan sounded almost painful, and she felt his cock twitch against her through his shorts. His movements hastened, and what control she had over her sanity was quickly jettisoned off the face of the earth. A soft whine escaped her mouth, and she strained not to writhe and ruin the perfect thing he was giving her. A garbled whimper of his name had him sinking to press his forehead against hers, eyes still boring holes into her soul.

Just like that, she was there. Her legs couldn’t snap closed against the onslaught of white-hot pleasure, wrapped around his hips as they were. She fought to keep her eyes open for him, but they kept fluttering closed until a new wave of pleasure crashed over her. She felt fucking possessed, haunted by need and feeling and more—

And he was talking, she realized.

“—that’s it, just take it, come for me, Osha. C’mon, baby,” he groaned softly, practically whispering as to not speak over the desperate noises he was pulling from her. “So beautiful like this, go ahead, ride it out, use me just like that—”

Another whine of his name had him snapping back to attention and out of the pleasured haze he’d been drifting in. “Want you to—” she could only get a few words out before he kissed her, hard.

“You want me to come for you like this?” he breathed, practically speaking into her mouth.

She nodded, their teeth clacking together a little as she struggled to kiss him back. “Can you?” she asked.

His breath hitched and he closed his eyes, drawing a deep inhale through his nose. He gave a quick, jerky nod before checking on her again, that is this what you want am I what you want vulnerability shining through.

She brought a hand to the back of his head, twining her fingers into his hair and keeping him here with her, in the moment. “Let me see you,” she whispered, weakly rolling her hips up against him. The overstimulation was fast approaching, sparks blowing closer to dry grass.

His face flushed red as he gave a shaky little thrust against her, nerves driving him until desire took the reins once again. And then he was there, that leashed, monstrous want he kept behind his ribs.

Hello, there, her smirk said to it.

When he realized she wasn’t going to flinch or shy away from him, he pressed harder against her, a firm and claiming weight that had her almost concerned she’d come again, just watching him chase his orgasm. Soft, needy whines escaped on the tail of his every harsh exhale, primal and thrilling and everything she ever wanted.

You love him, she was unhelpfully reminded.

She drove the soul-deep feelings away, focusing on him. Osha tugged at the root of his hair, where it wouldn’t hurt but it’d burn. The noise he made was unforgettable, echoing sharply in the cavernous apartment. It heralded his peak, and he gave two, three sharp thrusts before he gritted his teeth and rode out his orgasm. He looked nearly in pain as he came, the muscles in his neck and shoulders straining beneath her touch. It grew hotter, wetter between them, the warmth seeping into not just their clothes but every fucking inch of her.

He was shaking, frozen still as he tried to put the pieces of his mind back together. She gently rolled him off her, just to the side but still touching. He ducked his face into her shoulder, hardly possessing the capacity to kiss her—so instead, he just pressed his face there.

Their breaths evened out, neither forcing calm between them as they came down from the madness. When he lifted his head from her shoulder, his eyes still looked hazy, but the sated, happy smile on his lips made her heart soar.

“Hello,” she said softly, pushing back the hair that had fallen in his eyes.

“‘Lo,” he slurred. God, she felt like she was glowing.

“Hi,” she laughed.

His eyes filled with that I’m gonna kiss you now look. “Hi,” he mumbled, leaning in—

The smoke detector objected. He froze, just a half-inch from her lips.

“God fucking damn it—” he growled, eyes sliding to the side like he could glare the shrill beeping away. Stubbornly, he finished what he was going to do and kissed her anyway, deep and filthy and hot. Despite the passion, it made her laugh in delight the moment he ripped himself away from her.

She had to keep herself from depravedly watching his lower half as he snapped the range dials off and searched for a tea towel. The smoke detector sang the song of its people, and Osha could only continue laughing at the circus unfolding before her. 

Qimir leveled a baleful (but playful) glare in her direction as he waved a towel around, but when the apartment went blissfully quiet, he dropped the scowl in favor of a smile.

“Excellent work, Coach Lo,” she said, her voice only a little shaky from the draining adrenaline of their previous activities. She’d intended the remark to tease, but it had a much different effect on him than she planned for.

Even from the bed, she could see his eyes darken again, how they’d done when she pulled on his hair. Qimir rolled his shoulders back and breathed out—very slowly. At the very end of his exhale, he tilted his head, considering her with amusement and no small amount of caution. His fingers tapped, fidgeting, against the counter where he’d pressed his hands flat atop them.

“What?” she asked, less nervous than delighted.

“I just didn’t know how much I’d like hearing you call me that.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Yeah. Oh.”

Shit. That was out loud.

“Um. Do you need help with breakfast?” she asked, getting to her feet finally. She was surprised she could even goddamn walk, as relatively tame as they’d been. Her legs still felt like jelly.

He looked over his shoulder at the pan. “It can be salvaged, but…” his gaze looked down at something hiding behind the counter. Osha’s face flushed.

“You clean up, I’ll plate,” she said, approaching him with that same amusement-caution cocktail he was sipping at.

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before brushing by her to do just that.

He was right; breakfast was salvageable, and she joined him after her turn in his bathroom. The atmosphere was relaxed and perfect, the afterglow of shared pleasure and tangled sheets still radiant in their skin.

Breakfast conversation followed that same kind of feeling, mild and a little sleepy in places as they woke up for real this time. It was incredible, how an orgasm could push away the mountain of questions that threatened to crush any contentment they felt.

As if knowing she wasn’t thinking about it, all those unspoken, unasked things slammed back into her. This time, he caught her sudden pensiveness.

“What is it?” he asked, the hint of nervousness in his voice drawing her back in. Did I do something wrong? Do you regret me? Do you not want me? All those questions lingered in his eyes.

She took his hand. “You’re fine,” she assured him, kissing his knuckles.

“Something’s the matter, though. That’s your something’s the matter face.”

She sighed. Maybe it was naive of her to think she could stave off the questions and uncomfortable topics forever, even if this moment was perfect. With enough time, those topics would make it so there was never a perfect moment again. The last week itself was enough to have her buckle under the stress—from Indara’s conversation in the storage closet he used to live in, to the questions she had about the fight two months back, to Qimir’s disappearance.

Not to mention Idise.

She didn’t want me to find and follow him.

She had a lot to say, a lot to ask, and she had to start somewhere.

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “So Idise was at the Temple.”

CHAPTER 19

A bit of post-script:

The song referenced is Trouble by Cage the Elephant

Romeo & Juliet by William Shakespeare is referenced twice which is really an exercise in restraint for me as the first draft had FIVE (5) references: the title, yet hanging in the stars, is at 1.4.105; and the what's in a name soliloquy is at 2.2.46-47

also formatting the texts for tumblr is equal parts so much fun and such a hassle i hope someone out there enjoys them

[jeankluv]

Snow on the beach || Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: angst, swearing, a lot of angst

Notes: I’m sorry

If you want to be add to a tag list, comment down

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Chapter IX: Shot glass of tears

Neither of you wanted to leave each other's arms, but you had to. So you let go. Law grabbed your hand and walked you both over to the couch. You sat next to him, still holding his hand. Neither you nor he said anything, you stayed silent. Your gaze was fixed on your hands, which made circles with its thumb on your hand. You could feel Law's soft gaze on you, you didn't need to look at him to know that.

“I saw Luffy and his brothers…” He finally spoke. “They told me you took the bus.”

“Yeah, I met them there. I didn’t know Luffy had brothers, but they are actually really nice. They waited for me until the bus came.” You tried avoiding looking at his eyes.

“Y/n…” He said your name, in such a delicate and sweet way, you felt your bones melting. “They told me there was someone else with you.”

“Just a drunk weirdo, don’t worry.”

“Don’t do that.” He said.

“Do what?” You were still avoiding his gaze.

“Lie to me… I know when you do it.”

You snorted. “And I hate you for that.” You whispered.

“Y/n please look at me.” And you did. “I know it was him… and I need you to tell me if he did or said something to you. Please.”

“He… asked me if I knew you.” He told you not to lie, not that you didn't omit information. “I told him I didn’t.”

“And what else y/n? I know there is something else.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Why did he have to read me so well?

“He just… he just said that I shouldn’t play games and something about only hurting me if I…”

“Hurting you? Did he touch you? Did he?”

“Law calm down alright.” You held his hands. “I’m okay and nothing happened. All right?”

Law's jaw was clenched and he was breathing heavily, you wanted to calm him down but you knew there was no way.

”But it could have happened… Damn, I knew it wasn't a good idea. We weren't supposed to be friends, we weren't supposed to be anything, I should have remained the grumpy, stoic neighbor I've always been. Fuck." He grabbed his hair with his hands and sighed in frustration. “Now you would be safe, without him threatening you. You would be fine.

“I’m safe, I’m okay.”

“Please y/n, don’t do this.” He looked at you.

“Law please…. Don’t push me away from you. We can work it out…” You sniffed, while tears rolled down your face. “I’m sure there is a way.”

“I already told you, didn’t I? There isn’t.” He sighed. “It’s better if we stayed apart. It’s the best, you will be safe… I heard Nami was looking for a roommate, maybe you could talk with her, like that you will be closer to work and you won’t have to come home alone every night.” He smirked. “And you won’t have to see my boring ass again. It will be easier.”

“It won’t…” You whispered. “Don’t lie Law, it won’t be easier.”

“Y/n…”

“No don’t…It’s that easy for you?” You looked at him. “I don’t want to leave this place, I still want to have you as my neighbor, I want you to take me home from work while you let me use the radio and let me sing, I want us to watch stars again, I want to come from a run with Bepo and see you waiting. I don’t care if you’re grumpy, “boring”, or whatever you think you are. For me you’re my safe place and I already told you that. But if I have to say it again I will Law, I don’t care how many times.” You felt how you were running out of breath, so you pause for a moment, scanning his side profile. “We can make…”

“We?” He said with a cold tone. “There is no we, and there will never be one.”

“Don’t start like that time Law, like when you tried to push me away.” You tried to hold his hand. “You know me but I also know you Law, so don’t do this.”

“You know nothing y/n.”

“Maybe you’re right but I want to…”

“Why? Because you’re attracted to me y/n?” You looked at him, the tone, the gaze, this was not the Law you knew. “Please y/n, you really thought I would ever feel something for someone like you. You really thought I would even approached you in the first place?”

Pieces, thousands of them. Your heart just broke. Law didn't mean that, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“You don’t mean that…” You let out.

“I do. Please y/n you really thought something could happen between us?”

Maybe if you hate me, it will be easier. So let me be a villain, let me lie, let me make you hate you. If that means you will be alright, you will be safe. I don’t care not having you with me as long as I know you’re okay. Because that’s everything I want. For you to be okay.

“I don’t believe you.” You shook your head. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” He said with no emotions on his face. “Corazon told me to try and be friends with you… and that’s what I did.”

“How do you want me to believe this shit when you came to my home worried about me? When you hugged me like I was going to go away? How Law?” Your face was full of tears.

“Believe what you want y/n, but it’s true I only approached you because Corazon told me to take care of you since you were new to the town and because you were a pain in the ass, who wouldn’t let me alone.”

You shook your head. Whether real or not, those words were sticking into you one by one like sharp blades. And Anna's memories were coming back, one by one. Had Law really been pretending all this time? No, not what you had felt with him, the knowing looks, the moments, all that couldn't be a lie. They could not. You covered your face with your hands, and let out a sob. Law was hurting you where it hurt the most without knowing it.

How did all this happened, how did you went from blushing and shyly smiling to crying and shouting at each other with lies?

“Stop…”

“Why y/n? Truth hurts? I will never like you, you are impulsive, talkative, doesn’t listen, always singing Taylor Swift songs and you end up crying with the bare minimum and you want me to believe you can handle Doflamingo? Please y/n don’t be a child, this is not a stupid playground game.” He paused for a moment. “Let’s be honest, the main reason why I care about you is because of Corazon, nothing else. The reason why I have been good to you it’s him. That’s why I came here and I want you away from our lives because I know Corazon would blame himself for the rest of his life if something happens to you.” Lie after lie, he was the one who would blame himself if something happened to you.

I’m sorry peachie.

“Stop with the crying you are giving me headache, god sometimes you’re so annoying y/n.”

“Leave…” You whispered.

Law looked at you from his position.

“Leave!” You shouted, something that left Law shocked, it was the first he heard you shouting.

Hate me a little bit more. Do it peachie, please.

“What y/n? Truth hurts, you can’t take it?” He was being a dick and he knew.

“I told you to leave, leave!” You stood up and started hitting him on the chest.

“Good.” He whispered letting you go.

You collapsed to the ground and cried again, deep down you knew that what he had said were lies, but every word that had come out of his mouth had been one stab after another. And no matter how much you wanted to avoid it, your trauma, which you were running away from, was resurfacing again. And you wondered if Anna was right, maybe you were always going to end up alone.

Law dragged his feet home. He was grateful that Corazon was not there, since he would be unable to see him and tell him what had happened and who was the real culprit of everything. He sat on his bed and let out everything he had kept inside him. He hated himself, he hated himself so much for making you feel like this, for making you cry like this. He hated the fact that everything he loved ended up broken, damaged, because of him. Since he was little it had always been like this, first with his parents, then with Corazon, he was always the reason why those he loved the most were hurt. He didn't deserve love, he didn't deserve you to love him and yet he let you get close to him, knowing that as always, what he loves most would be broken.

He let himself cry, in the dark, alone, like he always had done. He had fallen in love with you so easily, from the very beginning with every aspect of your personality, you had made everything so easy and with every heartbeat, look he gave you, he always wondered if he was worthy of loving you. If one day he could love you without any worry, without fear of harming you.

Your fourth cup was in your hand, or was it the third? You didn't know anymore. After you were practically out of tears, you decided to drink from one of the bottles that you and Nami had left over, this way you would at least alleviate the pain. You felt dizzy, the alcohol was already having its effect but that didn't stop you from thinking about Law's words. Did they really believe that you wouldn't be able to handle the situation? To confront that person? You weren't weak and you knew he could trust you, but he didn't.

You sighed and took a sip from your glass, you hated Law, for the words that had come out of him and for not putting more faith in you. You really hated him but you were also fucking in love with him.

You woke up to the sound of the landline ringing, at some point during the night you had fallen asleep on the couch. You stretched and walked over to where the phone was.

“Hi?” You said trying not to sound too sleepy.

“Y/n?” You recognized that voice, it was Mrs. Smith, the owner of the house.

“Oh Mrs. Smith, good morning. How are you?”

“Good honey, how are you?”

“I’m good, thank you for asking.”

“Honey I was actually calling you because well something happened.” Your heart started to pump heavily on your chest. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you will need to leave the house.”

“Wait… why? The contract was for a year…”

“I know but something came up and I will need you to leave. I’m really sorry.” You closed your eyes, why was this happening? “If you need help finding a new place to stay…”

“No, I have a friend who is searching for a roommate, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry but…”

“No it’s okay. When do I have to leave the house?”

“As soon as possible.”

You hung up the phone and huffed, what the fuck? How was it possible that he suddenly asked you to leave. An idea ran through your head and you didn't want it to be true. You left the house, you didn't mind being only in your pajamas, the truth was that you didn't feel any cold at that moment. Law was closing his trunk when you reached him, he hadn't noticed your presence until you were in front of him.

“Was it you?” You crossed your arms. “Are you the reason why I have to leave the house?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” He said passing next to you.

“Don’t make me laugh.” You moved again, staying in front of the car door.

“Y/n move.”

“No. How convenient isn’t it? You tell me to move out, to go to Nami and suddenly Mrs. Smith calls this morning telling me that I have to leave the house.” You bite your inner cheek, you could feel your helplessness increasing by the moment.

He looked at you and you noticed the big dark circles he had under his golden eyes. “Unfortunate events I guess.”

You held on tighter to yourself. "It's a joke? That much do you want me to hate you Law? Is that why you are doing this to me? Is that why you told me all that last night? If you think I’m that weak, you’re wrong.”

Law looked at you with a serious expression. “I don’t want to keep listening to you. Now I have to go for work.”

“You’re a coward, Law.” You said and started walking back home.

Law watched your figure disappear into the house, he scratched the back of his neck. He had barely slept a wink last night, he had contacted Doflamingo around 4 in the morning and he had given him clear instructions as to why he was there and what he needed from him. Maybe you were right and he really was a coward, but at least he could keep the two people he loved the most safe.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Nami was hugging you while trying to calm your sobs, you arrived there with a red face after crying again after your encounter with Law that morning. Nami simply opened her arms to you and let you cry in them, she also offered you to stay with her when you told her you had to leave the house and she listened word for word to what happened with Law the night before and this morning.

“He looked so sad, Nami…” You said sniffling. “He looked like a truck had run over him and I... God I wanted to hug him and... I'm screwed Nami.”

“You’re not screwed y/n, you’re just in love with that jerk.” She stroked your hair. ”I don't think what he did was right, there were ways and means to solve this, but to hurt you like that, to make you cry like that. It was not." She sighed. “I don't know what he thought he was going to achieve with this, because it's clear that you know that what he told you was a lie, a way to make you hate him.”

“And he failed, there is no way I would hate him…”

“I have known Law for long enough and he is always reserved but one thing I know about him and that is that he would do anything for those he loves.”

“Do you think Law loves me?” You whispered.

“I don’t think it, I’m certain he does.” You looked at her.

You sighed and wiped out the tears on your cheeks. “I need to start preparing my things to leave.”

“I can help you today, I have a free day and so do you. We could call the boys for help.” She smiled and walked to the kitchen. “Sanji would be more than glad to help, Luffy, Usopp and Chopper too and Zoro, if we tell him there is alcohol he will show up.” You laughed.

“Okay, yeah. Although there is not much to pack.”

She shook her head and gave you a cup. “The most important thing is to spend time together.”

You smiled, she was right.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Law looked at Monet first and then at Doflamingo, his face serious. It had been Monet who had brought him to town and who had given him the basic information about you.

“Law, son you look like shit.” Doflamingo said, placing himself in the seat. Monet giggled beside him.

“Why did you come here? I paid you what you asked me.”

“I know and good job, but I need you to come with me.”

Law rolled his eyes. “There is no fucking way I’m going with you.”

“Hey Law, respect the boss.” Monet spoke.

Law gave him a cold look and then laid his eyes back on Doflamingo. “Let it out.”

“I need a doctor, a good one. And I know you’re the best one.” He leaned back in his seat. "Look, if you come with me, I will definitely leave my brother alone, I will forget his betrayal and I will not get close to your girlfriend either."

Law swallowed. “For how long?”

"Undefined." His breathing hitched.

Undefined. He would have to leave without knowing when he could return or even if he would ever return.

“And if I accept you will leave them alone.”

“You know I can be a lot of things but I don’t break my promises Law.”

“Okay. I will go with you.”

“Nice! We will be leaving tonight.” Law simply nodded and watched how both, Doflamingo and Monet left his office.

Law stood up of his seat and walked outside his office. He walked down the hallway until he reached Marco's office.

“I’m leaving.” He said as soon as he entered the office.

Marco looked at him in shock. “Oh… what?” He took off his glasses.

“I’m leaving tonight. So I'm quitting the job. I’m here to inform you about it.”

“You have to be joking… Where do you think I can get another doctor from? No one wants to move to this town.”

“Chopper…”

“Oh my god, Law , he is still in high school!”

“He is a good student, he could help you.” Shrugged.

Marco sighed. “We will find something but don’t you think I will forget this. Leaving me like this… I’m hurt, man.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Tell me that at least it’s a really good job.”

“Yeah it is.” He lied.

“Good. I’m happy for you then.”

Law smiled at him and left the office, he had to talk to Corazon and make up an excuse about what job he had gotten. There was no way he was going to tell him that Doflamingo had asked him to go with him or that he had been blackmailing him for years. He went to the police looking for Corazon, if he wasn't mistaken his rest was about to begin. When he got there he saw him and one of his companions chatting animatedly.

“Cora-san.” He called him out.

“Oh! Law.” He stood up, making the cup of coffee fall. “Oh shit…”

“You have to be careful, Cora-san.” Law shook his head.

“How silly is your old man right?” He hugged him. “How are you?”

“I’m good. I wanted to talk with you about something…”

“Oh sure.” He said, saying goodbye to his companion. “Is this about your fight with y/n this morning. She looked pretty sad when she left.”

Law swallowed. “No, no… it’s another thing.”

“Oh okay, but you and y/n are alright right?”

“Hmm… it’s complicated Cora-san.”

“Complicated how, you love her and she clearly loves you too. That for me it’s a good thing.”

“I don’t lo-”

“Oh c’mon son I have seen your drawings.” Law cheeks turned red. How did he know about those drawings? He made sure to hide them. “You haven’t drawn in ages, not since…” Corazon stayed silent. “You used to love drawing and now you want me to believe you don’t have some strong feelings for the girl you have a dozen hidden sketches?”

“Okay fine! I love her.” Law sighed.

“That’s my son.” He hugged him. “I know she was going to be a good influence on you, I just never thought you were going to end up falling in love.” He sighed. “My baby boy in love. I’m like a proud mama.”

“I’m leaving Cora-san.” And with that Corazon’s smile dropped. “Tonight. I got a job offer, a good one and they want me to join them as soon as possible. I accepted. Marco already knows.”

Corazon put his hands on his pockets and nodded. “Wow, that took me by surprise. I honestly was expecting something else. I really thought you were going to end up telling me I was going to be a grandpa or something, not this.” Law rolled his eyes. “Yeah sorry this is serious. So… you’re sure about this?”

“100% sure. It’s a great opportunity.” Corazon nodded.

“Son, you’re 26 years old already. I'm sure whatever you choose will be the right decision and I will be here to support you.”

“Thank you Cora-san.” This time it was Law who hugged him.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You and Nami had been packing your things for a while to go with her, when the boys came into the house with snacks and drinks.

“Y/n~” Sanji sang. “Where should I put this, my lady?”

You smiled at him. “Here.” You guide him to the kitchen. “Here it should be alright.”

“Okay.” He said leaving the bags on the counter. “By the way how are you?”

“Good.” You said tilting your head. “Why?”

“Oh, I just thought you would be sad. I knew you had something with Law and him leaving so suddenly it’s a surprise.”

You froze. Leaving? Law was leaving. “What?”

“Oh… you didn’t know?” You shook your head. “Yeah apparently he got a better job away from here and it’s leaving tonight. I thought you knew.”

“I…” You breathe. “Is he still here? Did you see his car when coming here?”

“Yeah he was still here.”

You left what you were doing and rushed outside, you saw Corazon and Law hugging and saying goodbye to each other.

“You are leaving…” It wasn’t a question.

“Y/n…” You heard Corazon speak but your attention was only on Law.

“Corazon, could you leave us alone, please?” Corazon accepted and walked away, leaving you both alone.

“Why…? Why are you leaving? Please be honest with me Law.” You begged him.

“It’s not your business.” There it was, his cold voice.

“It is MY business. You can not leave, I don’t want you to.”

“But it doesn’t matter what you want or don’t want y/n don’t you get it?”

“I get it… I fucking get it, I get that you want to protect me and Corazon and the people you care. But it’s not fair… it’s not fair you have to walk that path alone. I already told you that.”

“Y/n you only say this because…”

“I’m not attracted to you… I was but not anymore.”

“That’s good. It will be easier for you to…”

“Let me finish.” You cut him off. “I’m in love with you, Law. You can tell me all those lies once again, try to make me hate you. But it won’t work out, no, because I love you Law and I’m willing to risk myself to be with you and I don’t care about that fucking boss or anyone. You can try to convince yourself that the words you let out last night were real but I know they aren’t.”

Law was stunned looking at you, you had left him speechless. You took a few steps until you were in front of him.

“Law… you are important to me too.”

“Stop y/n.” He whispered.

“No…”

You raised your hands to his chest, his heart beating rapidly. Then you placed them on the back of his neck, Law closed his eyes when he felt your fingers touch his skin.

“Y/n, I…” You saw his eyes getting wet.

“It’s okay Law.”

He grabbed your waist with both hands and pulled you towards him. You couldn't take it anymore, so you pulled him towards you and joined your lips. The kiss was delicate, soft and warm. You could notice Law's tears hitting your faces. And at that moment you just wished you could take away all the pain and weight he was carrying.

Snowflakes began to fall on you, but you didn't care and continued kissing. You didn't want to let Law go, because you knew that when you did, he would just get up and leave, and you didn't want that.

“I’m so sorry peachie.” He whispered in your mouth. He cupped your cheeks and kissed you again. “I love you and I’m sorry for breaking your heart, for making you cry.” He said and this time you were the one crying.

“Please don’t leave.” You said resting your head on his chest. Law hugged you and rested his chin on your head.

“I have to…It’s for the better.” He wiped your tears away. “And please peachie don’t cry. Not for me, it’s not worthy.”

“You’re worthy Law. You always have been.” You looked up at him. “Snow is falling… you promised to take to see the snow…”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to…”

You hugged him closely and he did the same. If only time could freeze in time, so you could stay like that for longer.

“It’s getting late… I need to go.” He whispered to your ear.

“Mmm…” You protested against his chest.

”Peachie, as much as I would like to stay like this with you, hugging you and kissing you for hours and hours. I have to go and you have to come back inside or you will catch a cold.” He said, brushing strands of hair away from your faces.

“It would be a good excuse for you to stay, you would have to take care of me doctor.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You looked at him with your big eyes.

“Don’t provoke me like that, love.” She said and you blushed at that new nickname. Law did too when he realized what his lips had said. “I mean… peachie.”

“I like the new nickname.” You smiled.

“Alright… but I need to go.” He broke the hug. “But I will come back, as soon as I can.”

“I will be waiting for you, Law.” You held his hands. “But please, you need to tell me that you will be safe.”

“I will be… I pro-”

“Don’t promise me anything, promises don’t last, they break.”

“Okay…” He hugged you one last time. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry, you’re acting like me right now.” You joked and made him smile.

“I have one thing for you.” He let your hands go and opened the car. “I was supposed to give it to you yesterday, but well things went wrong… It's not a big deal but I hope you like it.” He said as he handed you the gift.

You unwrapped it carefully, coming across a pair of gloves. “They are gloves…”

”Yes, you are always rubbing your hands or rubbing them inside your clothes and when… well, when we have shaken hands at some point, they usually feel cold. It's not a big deal but I hope you like it.” He smiled shyly.

“I love them.” You hugged him. “Thank you Law.”

He kissed you one last time before getting into the car and leaving, you didn't want to cry again but you did. Nami appeared next to you and hugged you again like she had done hours before. It was at times like this where you were so grateful to have a friend like her. You knew that you wouldn't be calm until Law was back in town, because even if he hadn't told you, you knew that the fact that he left was related to that man.

Ending note: I had to options for this chapter, the ending was going to be the same, Law leaving but in the first opinion y/n and Law never fight but because I love drama and pain, I decided to do it that way. At the end of the day Law still thinks that pushing y/n away is the best option, for him making her hate him was the best opition, that way she would leave him and be safe. But y/n cares deeply about him, I mean the girl is in love and she wasn’t going to give up on him that easily. Now the thing is, Law has left, what will happen? Who knows (I do)? And I don’t know when chapter 10 will be post bc I have personal stuff coming this early December, so you will probably will have to wait. Sorry for the suffering, love you ❤️

Tag list: @smolracoon25 @phsycochan @punem699 @norasincubi

[atopvisenyashill]

Every time I think of Game of Thrones and shipping I go a little bit insane because of the fact that Jon and Dany are supposed to actually love each other according to the script and have ZERO on screen chemistry meanwhile Jon and Sansa have such good on screen chemistry and it amounted to nothing. The thing is that I could get behind either ship under specific circumstances but the show didn’t really offer my preferred circumstances for either and it completely fumbled both in different ways. What do you mean we’re supposed to believe Jon still loved Dany even to the end? What happened here?

okay let’s rant about the show acting.

the thing about kit is he needs a STRONG scene partner to kick it into gear. a lot of the early night’s watch scenes are awkward as shit bc the other guys ARE good but they’re not strong enough (whether that means less confident or less seasoned, take your pick here) to herd him into good acting all the time. when he gets to the wildlings, i think he hits a high point bc he has some strong scene partners - rose leslie, ciaran hinds, Kristofer Hivju, i think they just brought out something a bit deeper in him. i haven’t watched the meli scenes since they aired so i can’t speak to that one yet but i do think this carries into the winterfell story arcs. sophie is just a very good scene partner for him! and tbh, i thinks this even fits with jon’s character a bit - kit is so much better at the Stark Aspects of Jon and of course he is, because imo the overreaching arc of jon snow is him defining himself as a son of house stark in character if not in name. it would have been nice if they cast someone who didn’t need to be herded as much as kit tho aksjdjd

the thing as i see it with emilia is…..i have no fucjing idea how to get a good performance out of that girl aksjdjd like her good moments are even more fleeting & hard to pin down. tbf her writing is also consistently bad from the jump. you know how skai jackson posted her audition tape for gossip girl and she was doing the exact sort of disney channel snarky delivery & it was like well That’s why u didn’t get cast. somehow, emilia got cast (and AIDEN I DONT UNDERSTAND IT HE ISNT GOOD ITS GIVING PREMINGER FROM BARBIE OKAY CONLETH SMOKES HIM IN EVERY SCENE). i think that scene where she puts the egg on the brazier & irri walks in is p solid. the scene where she slaps the fuck out of viserys is solid. the final shot of s6 where she’s on the ships is solid. the battle of the bells scene is excellent. her two big dothraki speeches (i think it’s middle of s6 & the last episode?) are very good. everything else isn’t even like, cringe, it’s straight up bad. i think she had good chemistry with iain jason peter & for those 5 seconds elyes, but there’s also a stark difference in acting there that jars me that doesn’t jar me out of say, the “if we die we die” jonygritte scene. but again, can’t overstate how ass her writing is. they’re relegating her to screeching at people & smirking, they very notoriously use emilia’s body a LOT for sexy tiddy scenes so much that once she blew up as a character she leveraged her new found pull not for more money but to not have to show her boobs anymore. that’s just not an added stressor that kit was dealing with.

anyways so, what happens when you get two actors who aren’t very good at acting on the screen is that you just don’t get a lot of good acting. and when there’s no good writing to speak of, well, that’s how you get the romantic story lines of later game of thrones. the one that actually goes canon is just perplexing in how it’s written and badly acted. the one that stays non canon is well acted but also perplexingly written & it doesn’t even get solid pay off at the end? not even expecting them to kiss, like, there’s no focus on how they’re feeling about the events of the final season they just hug once and dip. not that the canon one gets pay off either skdjd like these are just very stupidly written arcs for these three. the only people that won were jon/tormund truthers and even then they flanderized tormund so bad that it’s like eh.

[courtingchaos]

Vulnerable

Gator Tillman x Female Reader

Shared Inflicted Pain

A/N: So I’ve been writing about this guy…I’ve had this and another piece kicking around my notes for a few weeks. Lost steam on them but I found my footing again. Still very much into this make believe asshole I’ve created. There’s some *gasp* feelings in this one, I know. Hope y’all like it. Also this ends maybe a little weird and abrupt but that’s because there’s more 😀

Warnings: Sex, mentions of bodily harm, knife play, blood, feelings (lol)

18+ NSFW No minors allowed

Gator had let you come along with him while he rode all the way out to Roy’s expansive ranch. You’d stayed in the truck obviously, staying out of sight if Roy decided to get feisty.

“No, you just creep him out and I don’t trust him to not pull a gun on you in his own home.” Gator warned you actually, kept looking over his shoulder the whole walk up to the house just in case you wanted to be a shit about it. You’d just wiggled your fingers at him over the long dashboard and settled deeper into your cocoon of flannel.

By the time he’s done you’ve almost dozed off, the sound of the engine turning over pulling you out of whatever frozen dream you were in.

“Where to?” You yawn, stretching as far as you can in the cab. He doesn’t reply, just shakes his head slightly and puts the truck in reverse.

“You kidnappin’ me Tillman?” You poke the side of his head enough that it jerks to the left. He slaps your hand down with his still casted right one and holds it pressed against the bench seat.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“I’ll tell you now, father won’t go over 5k for me.”

“So you’re worth less than a used Civic?”

You laugh, bobbing your head left and right in a mockery of thought. “Basically.”

He lays off your hand so he can whip the truck around in the driveway, headlights blurring over the freshly fallen snow. Instead of leaving the way you came, he drives slow up a small incline and off towards the tree line on the edge of Roy’s property.

“Seriously though, where are we going?” There’s a brief thought that maybe Gator was told to bring you out here. Maybe it was all under the guise of asking if you wanted to go for a ride. He still doesn’t answer you and you turn your body towards him. “Gator. I’m serious.” The quick change in your tone makes him glance at you. You’ve got your hand in your coat, pocket knife gripped in your fist. You try to remember if you brought your phone but it’s not like it’d do any good out here. Basically wilderness this far out and this late at night.

“You gonna knife me out here?” He’s not looking, just points with his right hand at your coat. “At least wait till I stop the truck.”

“Are you supposed to kill me?”

“What?” He laughs disbelievingly at you. “You think…” He trails off laughing again. You feel cornered and trapped and very fucking stupid until he gets past the trees a bit and slams the truck into park.

“I’ve got a helluva lot more respect for you than that.” He gives you a crooked grin. “Definitely more than your father.” He undoes his seatbelt and leans over to unclip yours. You flinch back against the door and he pauses. Tilts his head at you and rolls his tongue over his bottom lip before he sighs.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“That’d be unusual.”

He chuckles and grabs your knee to pull himself across the seat. “Mm. Well I won’t kill you.”

“Even if Roy asked?” Your heart isn’t hammering quite so anxiously now that he’s got his face this close. There’s a flutter of an expression across his brow but it’s gone before you can think about it too much.

“Why would he ask.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t like my father.” You drop your gaze when his good hand starts working on the snaps of your heavy coat. He’s got a little bit better movement with his bad hand now and he uses it to pull your leg closer to him. “I’m too smart for my own good. You said I creep him out. Take your pick.” He pulls your zipper down and gets his hand in your coat to push it aside. He just hums at you and leans into your neck to bury his nose under your ear.

“Why’d you bring me out here then?” You aren’t exactly in the mood for this right now. You’ve barely gotten your hand unwrapped from the pocket knife and he’s already trying to fuck.

“Jesus christ, I just asked if you wanted to go for a ride.” He leans back annoyed.

“You don’t ask me to do things. You don’t ask anything actually.”

“Do I need to?”

“No, but if you’re gonna take me out to the fuckin’ woods on a whim, I’d like to know ahead of time. That’s how you end up with a bullet in the head!”

His hand grips your jaw and knocks your head back into the passenger window with a thunk. He hovers over you best he can in the truck cab, his knee digging into your shin.

“If I wanted to I woulda done it by now.” He pushes your chin up to resume his attack on your neck. That first bite makes you hiss and he smiles against you, hand dropping to pull at the button on your jeans.

He’s got you sighing and squirming under his mouth, making quick work of putting an end to any protest you may have been thinking of. You wedge your hands between the two of you to work on his thick belt and when you manage to get your hand past his stupid camo pants he sits up from you before yanking you down the seat. He pulls your legs till you’re on your back, shirt and coat bunched up under you. You start to open your mouth to say something but he clamps his left hand over it and pulls at your jeans roughly until you cut him some slack and help him. Your laughter bleeds out from under his palm and he takes the opportunity to shove his middle and ring fingers in your mouth.

“It ain’t nice to laugh.” He warns you. He watches you for a moment, a deep sigh pushed through his nose while you suck loudly on his fingers.

“Pull your jeans down.”

You smile around his fingers and wiggle your hips to work your pants down. You bite into his knuckles when he tries to pull them out of your mouth, the rest of his fingers squeezing at your cheeks till you release him with a quiet laugh.

Pants barely down your hips he grabs the waistband and yanks them to your knees and lays into you. Your huff turns into a groan when you feel him pull his cock out and slide it along your wet slit. He lets out a shuddering laugh and leans back to stare at your cunt, right hand holding your knee back.

“You thought you were in real danger out here and you’re fuckin’ soaked.” He taps the fat head of his cock against you, pushing down till he slides between your folds and catches your clit, your eyes rolling back continuing his laughter.

“All I gotta do is take you out to the woods.” A few more rocks of his hips and he finally pushes in quick to bury himself deep.

It’s cold even with the truck on and the heat running. When you pant heavy under him you can barely see your breath and you could think of worse ways to stay warm.

“Gator?” You ask when he doesn’t move right away. With both hands braced on the backs of your knees he just grunts at you, face scrunched up in what looks like concentration. “You gonna move?”

“Y’warm.” He stays seated right up against you until he snaps his hips hard enough to knock your head into the door. He does it a few more times before he reaches up and grabs the top of your head to cushion it with his good hand. He keeps your knees pushed into your chest while he fucks the cold air out of you, small gasps forced out of your throat on every thrust. He goes about his normal and tries to bite your neck as much as he can, teeth nipping into sensitive skin while he pushes all his weight on you.

This feels a little different than normal to you. There’s a frantic feeling that’s missing from him tonight but maybe it’s the truck. The snow does make it feel like something akin to romance and he did ask you if you wanted to go for a ride.

“You got s-somethin’ on your m-mind?” You warble out between thrust. He doesn’t respond with words, just keeps mouthing along your neck and getting the collar of your shirt wet with spit. Tonight should be like all the other times, a quick one off. Except he’s moving over you with a purpose, mumbling against your throat and rolling your skin between his teeth gentler than normal.

He tells you you’re taking him so good. He tells you he loves how wet you get over him and the danger. He tells you you’re a good girl, his good girl.

Your hands end up tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back so you can get a good look at his face. He’s not supposed to start this shit, neither of you are. This was supposed to be a fucking around in dark corners kind of thing. A quick release of venom and a purge of anger to keep you both palatable to the masses. Suddenly though he’s talking about you like he thinks about you in the off times.

“Gator.” You strain out on a particularly hard thrust. He won’t let you pull his head up no matter how much it must sting against his scalp.

“Gator look at m-“ He brings the hand cushioning your head against the door to instead over your mouth again, a frustrated growl crawling out from between the two of you. You because he won’t listen to you yet again and him because you won’t shut the fuck up and let him have this.

“I just wanted you to myself for once.” His nose drags harshly up the underside of your jaw. “Not in a fuckin’ mud room or some garage.” His skin is slick against yours where a thin sheen of sweat has found a home along his cheek. He sits up enough to look down at you finally, hand still clamped over your mouth. “No Roy. No family.” His movements have stopped and you can feel him twitch deep inside you. “It’s quiet.” His eyes roam your face for a moment. “I like the quiet.”

“Be good, yeah?”

When you nod silently he lets your face go to fish around in your coat pocket, pulling out the silver knife you’d kept hidden. He flicks it open with ease and wedges it into your lax hand. You barely have a grip on it before he gets in your face and pulls your fist up to lay against his collar bone.

“I’m not gonna kill you.” A slow roll of his hips makes you moan high. “Roy can’t tell me to do that.” You watch the edge of the knife make a dent in his skin as he leans closer, nose brushing yours, eyes locked in your gaze. “I might hurt you, but you did break my fuckin’ wrist.” Your laugh is mostly breath, eyes flicking between his face and the metal pushing slowly into his neck. “If I go too far, you can knife me then, but it’s only me.” He picks up his pace, the rolling of hips turning into deep rutting, and he holds you in place with your coat bunched up in his fists. “Only me, right?” If he sounds desperate you don’t acknowledge it, just nodding at him breathless while he starts to loose whatever control he had. You’re nowhere near the edge, too lost in watching him fall apart while the knife digs further in and you have a moment of worry. Before you can voice it though he lurches in to kiss you. A hard press of teeth behind lips, a low groan streaming out of him when your hand slips and cuts him shallow, and he’s coming hot inside you. His hips stutter while your hands wind around his neck to hold him in place against your mouth, heavy breathing trapped between you two.

You expect him to catch his breath and pretend like this didn’t just happen. He’s not concerned with your end of things usually, just zipping his pants up and leaving, but when he pulls out you barely have time to process before he’s shoving your knees back into your chest and burying his face in your cunt, tongue bullying it’s way in until he hits your clit.

“Oh fuck!” You’re more sensitive than you realized and his relentless lapping against you makes your hips rock into his face until he holds you still. You’ve got nowhere to go, can’t move away from his mouth no matter how much you squirm under his iron grip so it’s barely a minute later and you’re gasping his name. Grasping at anything in your reach you leave a streak of red down his passenger window, his blood still on your hand. Dizziness claws through your head, the crash of your orgasm quick and fast and all you can do is stare up at the headliner and take deep breaths. Hands still clawed on the freezing window and wound in his hair.

He tucks your legs down and does a half assed job of trying to get your jeans up before he climbs over you, pushing your hand away from his head. “You with me?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Maybe.” Your voice sounds foreign to you, the pitch too high. Your heart thrums in your chest and you’re positive he can hear it. When you finally drag your eyes down you catch the shine of both of you on his chin and the red on his neck. Not dripping but wet enough to catch the light. Your finger trails lazily over his face and then down his neck, still cold from being pressed into the window. He barely registers it, too busy watching your eyes dance over his neck and his blood.

It’s how he watched your lip bleed over the wall, and how he watched the bites bloom over your throat for a day or two after some dark corner. He gets the stupid thought in his head that he’d let you cut him whenever you want if it means you keep your cold finger on him.

“Do you wanna go home?” It’s a stupid question. Neither of you want that but he doesn’t know what to say right now. The air shifted about 20 minutes ago and he hasn’t found his footing again, that creeping feeling of emotions he ignores swirling around his skull.

“No.” You don’t look at his eyes when you answer, finger going tacky over his skin where the blood starts to dry. Instead you wordlessly sit up and wiggle back into your jeans while he tries to find his belt loops again. You slump into your corner of the cab and quietly toy around with your knife while he puts the truck in drive and acts like he can’t feel your eyes boring a hole in the side of his head. When you stretch out your legs and shove them over his thigh he just huffs, and when he notices your breathing go heavy he drops a hand on your ankle.

[brainicusrotticus]

Got any Vace headcanons you feel like sharing? 👀

oooo boy i’m definitely digging through my brain to put some to paper now!

touch starvation

• he’s touch starved. like, this probably isn’t even a headcanon, you can’t look at that man and tell me he’s not

• he has a lot of general physical contact when it comes to training.

• but friendly, kind touch? like a hug from a friend or a joking shoulder squeeze?

• he’s always held himself apart from the other soldiers, a bit. especially when they started looking up to him. he needed respect, not affection.

• but he’s also touch-averse.

• there’s a gentleness that kind touch brings out in you

• and he is afraid of it

• for this reason, he naturally tends to lead with his left arm, the metallic one. it keeps other people’s warmth distant, and leaves them with the impression of him as something cold, hard, and made for function

• it’s just easier that way

• (but not better.)

people pleasing

• he used to be a people pleaser.

• it’s an easy habit to develop, when you’ve got abandonment issues and would do anything to get the parent who stayed to stop

• and he wasn’t strong enough to fight back, anyway

• if he got the impression that someone would even bother to look at him twice, he would practically build his whole personality towards them

• he’d pick up shared hobbies even if he hated them

• shared likes and dislikes, attitudes, world views…

• he just turned himself into a mirror, because that’s what he thought he was supposed to do

• this is what led to rex bullying him

• it’s pretty easy to see when someone’s doing this, and even easier to think it’s just them being fake, or mocking you

• after he broke rex’s arm, he stopped

• but he swung like a pendulum in the complete opposite direction

• he started intentionally scaring people off, because they never did him any fucking good

• he’d intentionally become everything they disliked if someone tried to get close

• for a while, it was a total personality shift, too

• he’d make his whole life about making them want nothing to do with him

• as he got older, he became more of a person for himself, though he still tends to mix and match quirks and interests to shrug people off

xenos

• he actually didn’t hate xenos when helios first landed

• he was wary of them, but he found them… interesting

• one of his first days out of the colony walls, he came across a hopeye that was just hanging out, making cute hopeye noises

• vace made sure there was no one around who could even possibly see this

• and then tried to pet it

• but the helios? didn’t really have animals

• so vace? didn’t really know how to handle animals

• and he startled the poor thing, which chomped down on his hand (metallic one) and then bolted

• it didn’t hurt, but it did fuck up one of the finger joints a little, and he had to fix it in engineering

• (but he did fix it himself, because he wasn’t admitting to anyone what happened)

• he admits that to solane one day, after they’ve grown close

• and solane is trying so hard to be proud of him for sharing this, because it’s hard for vace to admit anything

• but he also just desperately wants to tell vace that he’s a dumbass, of course it bit him

• (and is also so glad it was the metal hand. he’s read about rabies. he hasn’t seen anything similar on vertumna, but…)

snow

• vace doesn’t like the cold

• it makes him put on layers, it makes the metal on his arm feel weird, the parts it connects to ache… anytime he has to go into a room where the AC is kept running, he’s grumpy

• but he also used to watch a weird amount of winter holiday movies as a kid

• (he once got lum with a home alone style trap, when lum was a teenager)

• so he’s always found something kind of magical about snow

• but real snow is freezing

• (supposedly)

• (he’s never actually seen any)

• his favorite vertumna season is quiet

• sometimes, when he goes out of the colony during the snows, he just finds a quiet spot to stand and let it fall on him. it reminds him a little of stars

alcohol

• he doesn’t like alcohol. the flavor is awful, and his augment makes him a heavyweight. so trying to actually get drunk isn’t even worth it.

• but he refuses to avoid it

• he thinks it’s the only way to prove he’s not as weak as his father

• to stare the same temptation dead in the eyes, and refuse to give in

• and—he doesn’t. he doesn’t experience the change in brain chemicals, doesn’t become dependent on it.

• that doesn’t mean it’s healthy, though. especially not mentally. he’s still letting that ghost haunt him, control him

• and it takes a few years for that to finally get a mention in therapy with congruence. and even when she explains that to him, it doesn’t really… take.

• but congruence and sol share records, when necessary for the good of a patient.

• so eventually, sol sits vace down. in his office, in an appointment, completely professional setting.

• and he lays it all out for him.

• you see, alcoholism is partially influenced by genes. and if vace’s dad had the genes for it, it’s possible vace does too. but the way vace’s augment works, it’s harder for things to affect him. it would take a genuine, concerted effort to get him addicted to something. like, medical intervention.

• but if he ever has children… they might get the genes.

• but it’s not the be-all end-all. it’s also influenced by environment. strongly by the examples they see as they grow.

• and if one of his kids sees his attitude, that alcohol avoidance is some challenge to be conquered, and adopts the same attitude, without the same augment…

• vace stops drinking, then

• it does take a while, because it’s kind of habit at this point. if there’s alcohol, drink it. suffer through the nasty taste. prove you’re better. he doesnt even usually consciously decide to drink.

• but he does get there.

chronic pain

• it’s his arm

• it’s hard to hurt him in a way that leaves a permanent mark

• so to damage his arm to the point that it comes off, or needs to be removed?

• that fucks shit up

• and it was weird to him, for a long time

• he’s not super used to feeling pain, not on a scale similar to other people. he doesn’t know if his pain tolerance is high because he can take harder hits, or if he genuinely feels pain differently.

• (it’s a bit of both, really. he is harder to damage, but pain isn’t nerves being damaged. it’s nerves saying “hey, something dangerous is happening”. but, what is considered “dangerous” to his body is a different level. and that’s the level his nerves are used to. if someone else were given his augment later in life? it would take a while for the nervous system to adjust. and that while would suck.)

• but, chronic pain? it’s his nerves trying to say hey this is wrong, we should fix this, but no one listens because really, there’s not a whole lot more to do?

• phantom pain, too. it’s hard to rewire that, once the path has been made.

• but pain medication?

• well… chemical-altering substances don’t affect him nearly as easily. so they don’t help.

• he just… brute forces his way through it. refuses to let it affect his day to day life.

• he doesn’t let himself have “bad days”.

• which really just means he overexerts himself until something happens that makes him take it easy.

• (for a while, it’s rhett coming up with an excuse. or implementing a rotating system for soldiers to have a week off)

• eventually, therapy helps him start to change that mindset, too

thank you so much for sending this ask! i enjoyed digging around in my skull and pulling out headcanons like potatos, lovingly and obsessively cradling them like a goblin. i’m sure i’ll have more to share, once ive crawled into their burrows and lured them out with… i don’t know, tea? cubes of sugar? apple slices? something.

[docholligay]

Souvenir

I like people, I think it would be fair to say. Not even in the way you might describe a social butterfly, or someone who is necessarily good with people,* but in the way that someone loves art. I like listening people, I like watching them, I love hearing about what strangers do with their lives, I love eavesdropping on the little bits of people’s lives that they share into the open air and I learn things, constantly, from this**.  

It’s a bit of an odd trait, I guess, and maybe could even be considered nosy, to look at strangers like this, to chat up the gal on the train to Ely***and find out that she was a translator, she’d worked translating a sailing manual, and isn’t that such an interesting thing for people to do? She offered the opening door, and I walked right through it. I will all the time. Every person I meet gets added to a bank in my mind to draw from, for writing, for experiences, for simply lying awake at 3 am and mulling over in my mind****. 

In an actually fairly rare bit of lacking self-reflection, I had no idea that I constantly did this--it is not a calculated act--until Dani pointed it out to me on this trip, that I often make these little connections with strangers for no reason, and that it possibly makes me a good traveler. I had never thought of this. I suppose it’s true, though, that even when I’m somewhere my grasp of the language is, shall we say, tenuous, I have a very open sort of nature that allows me to find those little points of meeting. A conversation with an employee in Cologne, trying to buy tights, and we both ended up laughing, between my bad German and her slightly better English, and many hand motions, we got it handled! It was a very positive and lovely interaction, and though I knew my German wasn’t up to it, *I* was. That’s a mindset thing. 

I like being this way, I think. Not only do I have these small moments, but I also, to creep out anyone who’s ever hung out with me, sort of memorize my friends. When I’m with them, I catch myself looking so carefully at the way their hair moves, the way they phrase things, how they walk and the exact curve of their jaw. How will I call this person up in my mind, later? I have trouble paying attention to things sometimes because I can’t stop paying attention to things. I am a good mental mapper for this reason, and I mentally map people, as well. I keep them, in a way I’m not sure other people do.*****

I do catch myself wondering if they know they have lives, still, in my head? Does Sylvie from British Airways know I think about her smile from the jumpseat? Does Ian the cabdriver know I still turn over his voice in my head? Will the girl across from me on the train know how she lifted my spirits along with hers as she loved someone? Does anyone ever know the thosuand tiny gifts I receive every day of my life, simply by the decoration they bring to my world? In the novel of my life, the background has so much texture, because of all the wonder of each and every person, even the ones I don’t like, bring to it. I am so grateful for all of them. 

I like people. I hope they continue bringing their gifts to me and little weirdos like me. 

*I think we can all agree that sometimes I am very Not That, and that ‘smoothing things over’ is not necessarily a gift I am given (nor do I cultivate it, let’s assign blame where blame is due here) and I can be brusque and impolitic and annoyingly self-assured in any given situation where I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. 

**Just today I learned that sledding is called sledging in the UK, or at the very least in the North, if this gal’s accent is anything to go by and I’m not sucking at broad identification. I know this because she was talking about having enough snow to do it with someone she clearly loves and misses very much, from the way her face lit up as she was talking to them on the phone, and the way she leaned in toward the table as she made plans to meet up for dinner. I teared up a little bit. I love the moments we see people in connection and joy, some of my favorite little experiences in the world. I still think about the day one of my friends got married and she was walking around like a little piece of popcorn in hot oil, and there was nothing ODD or MAGICAL or WHATEVER about that, except that it was the exact kind of human magic I love, where something or someone gives you such joy that you can’t help but show it. ANYWAY. 

***See: Transit for a full explanation of how we all on the train ended up being, if not friends, foxhole comrades. 

****Upon reading this back, it sounds very negative or like I’m suffering, but I have slept in ‘shifts’ since I was a small child, and lying awake thinking for an hour or two around 3 am doesn’t bother me at all. It gives me a lot of time to imagine Haruka in situations and whatnot. 

*****Poetic as this sounds when I make it sound poetic using the power of making myself sound good writing, it might be fairly argued that my brain would be better served to spend a little less storage space on how often my friend wears a particular sweater and a little more on, oh, remembering a box I’ve been meaning to ship for MOTHERFUCKER I JUST REMEMBERED I HAVE A PRESENT I FORGOT TO GIVE DANI AND BEL IT’S IN MY FUCKING BACKPACK RIGHT NOW (see??? What I mean???) 

[bp-zb1fics]

which zb1 member would be which Disney prince,, I'm curious 🎤

Not cherrie giving me the best questions to answer 💜💜💜 when it’s literally 6am and my insomnia won’t leave me alone 😭

On principle, I find Disney’s portrayal of the princes as very shallow and gender-norm enforcing (i’m sorry I feel very strongly abt this😅) we are not fans so instead I’d probably go for what Disney princess movie fits the vibe of which member when I assign them to princes. I’m also going to be rewriting that movie as I go, sorry in advance to the purists

Pls note I’ve not great at headcanons and indecisive as hell so here we go ~

Jiwoong: The Beast/Prince Adam

If this man could play a Prince in a drama, this is the kind of content I’d pay for

Just like my hogwarts headcanon, man probably invited the sorceress to dinner and asked to be turned into a beast because everyone just liked his face

And he thought he’d be better off if someone liked his personality

Yes he asks for his servants to be turned into furniture for shit and giggles but not like permanently, maybe they all go back to normal at night

reader wonders why he always insist not that they don’t go to the west wing at night. It’s not just the rose but that’s where he and the servants go to like chill and be their human selves (this is getting a little Cupid and psyche lol)

Hao: Prince Eric (The Little Mermaid)

Just the scene of him playing his violin and mer reader listening from a distance

Sometimes they sing along while Hao is playing and Hao is like woah who dat

They probably met as kids and he gave mer reader his old violin because they were curious

Definitely have it displayed in the center of their collection

Wants to be human to hear Hao play more

Hanbin: Prince Charming (Cinderella)

If this man isn’t Prince Charming, idk who is, do not argue with me

Does not have a shoe fetish

Definitely remembers reader’s face, he just wants to return their shoe bruh

And maybe ask reader out idk, not marry them right away

Just imagine dancing with Hanbin to “So this is love” and tell me u aren’t soft

Matthew: Aladdin

For the record, the genie in that lamp would probably be Keita bc he’s been training for 10,000 years (jk)

Watch me cast the whole KTL team (except Hao idk unless we want crossover)

There’s Matthew and there’s Seok Woohyun, don’t tell me he doesn’t think those are two diff people

Just…Matthew singing a Whole New World is a song cover I didn’t think I needed until now pls and thanks

Taerae: Snow White’s Prince

For all the OG Disney fans, you know that one scene where Snow White’s singing by the well and the Prince fucking jump scares her by singing back

Yes that’s Taerae, man will take the opportunity and he has a guitar

yes he will bring the guitar

Once again watch me cast all the Wake One trainees (K+ G) and Junhyeon as the seven dwarves friends who help reader out

Ricky: Prince Naveen (Princess and the Frog)

I’m sorry my eternal headcanon is spoiled Prince Ricky and reader who puts him in his place

Would probably be a bit more sus of this voodoo man turning him into a frog

It’s probably not even a villain, it’s one of the Yuehuaz who happens to know voodoo being like oh you know what would be rlly fucking funny

He gets his whole character development arc and becomes a better young and rich, tall and handsome Prince that’s totally down bad for reader

Gyuvin: Flynn Rider (Rapunzel’s Tangled)

This man steals hearts everywhere he goes (I mean he won every challenge yo)

A lot goofy like they told him during the sleepover, he’s lucky he’s got a nice face

I haven’t got that much for this one

But energy is the same

Gunwook: Captain Shang (Mulan)

He is a leader (class pres/vice pres every year anyone?)

Dude literally takes forever to realize that reader isn’t supposed to be there (literally the en garde hidden cam)

Casting the three other Jellyfish trainees as the soldiers yo

He’s slay “Be a Man” even if I dislike the title of that song, it’s hella catchy

Yujin: Prince Philip (Sleeping Beauty)

He’s a baby YALL pls

Shy, literally just watching reader do their thing in the forest like how this boi literally watched taerae the whole signal song filming (pls see zb1’s bp commentary for red)

He’s not slaying dragons just yet but he be slaying my heart with Noona saranghaeyo

Gives reader an innocent lil peck and they wake up

Maybe it isn’t true loves kiss just yet, more like boy with pure intentions bc literally that’s equally hard to find

Ok thanks for coming to my TED talk and thanks cherrie for this very lovely question. Y’all need to keep asking me more stuff like that very much please and thanks in advance 💜💜💜

[strawmyberry]

aaa omg i absolutely loved your headcanons they are so cute!! 💗 also im tumblr is being mean 😭 i hope everything gets fixed soon <33

aa do you think you could maybe write something with kenny?? lee or ler is fine, anything you want!! your hcs for him are just so adorable i can't choose which side i like more 😭 i honestly am just looking forward to anything you have planned <3 tysm!! i hope you have a good day! 💗💗

aaaa!!! toast you are the sweetest 🥹 thank you so much for all the love and support!! it truly means the world! im so sorry this took so long!!! i hope it’s at least a little bit worth it- im still trying to get into the swing of things- so im sorry if it isn’t the best! also it has a super long intro sorry sorry sorry!! i hope you guys enjoy!!! (first fic yayyyy!!!)

— ❤️🍓 strawberry 🍓❤️

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

Swallow Your Pride!

Lee Kenny / Ler Stan and Kyle

Word Count: 3,038

With Cartman in Nebraska for the first few weeks of summer, Stan and Kyle think a celebration is in order! Kenny is a bit iffy on the idea; but every problem can be solved with just a little bit of friendly persuasion!

���️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Oh shit, dude. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

That day had started like any other. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and even though it was summer, the snow kept snowing. Softer than it normally would, sure, but the snow was a bit of a damper on the Teen Beach Movie summer that Stan had secretly been yearning for. 

It wasn’t hard to believe that Stan expected today to go like it typically would: a casual hang-out, at his house, with his friends, the four of them having a fun little Mortal Kombat: Onslaught tournament. 

“No! No, really, I am! It’s not gonna be the same without you, man. How long are you gonna be there for?” 

But it seemed like fate had other plans today. With his phone held against his ear, Stan would pace around his living room as he spoke. Kyle sat criss-cross-applesauce on the floor while Kenny laid on his side behind him, resting his head comfortably on one of Stan’s throw pillows. They were (not so) patiently awaiting Cartman’s arrival. They wanted to start kicking some ass already!

Every now and then Kyle would manage to make eye contact with Stan, shooting him a look that could only be described as a mixture of irritation and confusion. “Where the fuck is he? What’s taking so long?” He’d whisper, crossing his arms tight against his chest as Stan held up his “give me a second” finger. He’d grumble a bit at that, adding an eye roll to the mix. They could’ve started thirty minutes ago if Cartman came when he was supposed to! 

“Yeah.” Stan would pause, nodding his head. He’d turn, his eyes bouncing between Kyle and Kenny. “No, don’t worry. I’ll tell them.” He’d say, turning back around as he’d begin pacing a bit more. That seemed to peek Kyle’s attention even more, now turning to Kenny with a raised brow. 

“What do you think they’re talking about? What excuse is Cartman gonna try to pull this time?” He’d ask, trying his hardest to keep his volume low. He had never really been the best whisperer. 

“I don’t know..” Kenny would shrug, getting up from his comfortable laying position to be able to hear better. 

“Maybe he died.” Kyle would joke, letting out an overdramatic sigh. “That would be fucking awesome, wouldn’t it?” He’d add, cupping his hands together in a wistful Disney princess pose. 

Kenny couldn’t help but let a few giggles slip at Kyle’s dramatics, beginning to tighten his parka. Kyle would start softly chuckling to himself as a result of Kenny’s infectious laugh, being quick to shush Kenny while still staring at Stan intently. “Shhh! Duhude, shut up! I can’t hear!” He’d whisper through his own giggles, batting his hand at him. 

“I hear you. Okay. Yeah. I’ll let them know.” Stan would stop his pacing, now beginning to walk himself back to the center of the living room. Kyle’s giggles slowly faded as he analyzed Stan’s facial expression. He looked…upset. Shit. Did something genuinely happen? He was only joking about Cartman dying-!

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later. Bye, dude.” 

Stan would wait for the click, shifting his eyes from his phone to the two curious boys sitting in front of him. He looked…sad. The somber expression on his face scaring away the playful atmosphere that had once graced the room. Kyle couldn’t help but hesitate before asking his next question. 

“…What happened?”

Stan would blink at that question, staring at his phone again before slowly sliding it into his pocket. “Kyle…it’s Cartman…” Stan would start, his tone heavy and serious. Oh god. Kyle would begin mentally preparing himself. He prayed to God that Stan wouldn’t start crying. He couldn’t handle Stan crying. But, after a split second, it was apparent he wouldn’t have to worry about that at all.

“Cartman’s gone for two weeks!” 

The mood in the room completely changed. Stan’s face completely changed. The frown on his face turned itself around real quick, now replaced with one of the most vibrant smiles Kyle had ever seen. Dramatic asshole. That was his first thought. After he had comprehended what Stan said though, he had a completely different thought. 

“You’re shitting me!”

“I’m not! I’m not shitting you!” 

“You’re not shitting him?”

“No! No, I’m not! Cartman’s-“

“Dude!”

“-going to Nebraska-“ 

“No way!” 

“-to see his family! For two weeks!” 

“Thank you, GOD!” Kyle would cheer, jumping up from the floor. “Dude we gotta- we gotta do something!” Kyle could hardly contain himself as he celebrated. Deep down, he wanted to burst out into song. ‘The Witch Is Dead’ sounded like a pretty good option at the moment. And he wasn’t the only one pumped up either! Kenny was bouncing on his toes with excitement! They had prayed for this day for so long- and it was finally happening! 

“We need to celebrate!” Stan would exclaim. “Uh- shit! What should we do? It has to be something special.” He’d begin pacing around the room again, only this time; he was joined by Kyle and Kenny. 

“We should go get food!” Kyle would suggest. 

“Yeah! Let’s get food!” Kenny would second. Sure, you couldn’t see the smile on his face because of his parka; but you could pretty much hear it! 

“Okay! Food!” Stan would agree. Perfect! This was going great! “It’s settled then! We’re getting food!” He’d announce, the real question settling in as the words left his mouth. “…Uh. Where are we going to get food?” Oh. Yeah. They hadn’t really thought about that. Huh. The three boys would exchange looks, waiting for one of the other two to offer up an idea. 

“Bennigan’s!” Kyle would confidently propose, an accomplished smile on his face. “We never go to Bennigan’s! Let’s do something new and go to Bennigan’s!” 

Stan’s jaw would drop, nodding his head. “Dude! You’re a GENIUS! Hell yeah, let’s go to Bennigan’s!” With that settled Stan would rush over to the door, Kyle following closely behind. The two were so eager, they wouldn’t even notice how Kenny wasn’t following after them. 

“I can post it on TikTok- so he knows how much fun we’re having without him!” Kyle would smirk. He had always dreamed of this moment. He could only imagine how red his stupid, smug face would get after seeing how not-in-shambles they were without him there. 

“Dude. Perfect! This is gonna be sick!” Stan couldn't help but smile as he opened the front door. He’d turn, now noticing how Kenny was still in the same place that he was ten seconds prior. Maybe he hadn’t heard them the first time? “C’mon, Kenny! We’re going to Bennigan’s!” He’d call, beginning to make his way out the door.

“You guys go without me- have fun!”

Well- that wasn't what they expected. Stan would walk back into the house, Kyle following. He’d close and lock the door, a frown forming on his face as he walked toward Kenny. “But...you have to come! It won't be a celebration without you!” He’d insist. 

“Yeah! ...Do you not like Bennigan’s?” Kyle would ask, trying to offer up solutions. “We can go someplace else if you don't wanna go to Bennigan’s!” 

“No…Bennigan’s isn’t the problem.” Kenny loved the sound of going to Bennigan’s. Sitting and eating with his friends sounded like so much fun. But…he didn’t think he could afford that right now. It sucked that he had to turn the offer down, but it was much better than the alternative-

“Kenny…you know we could pay for-“

“No.” Kenny would deny Kyle’s offer before he even got the full thing out. It wouldn’t be the first time this exact scenario had played out; and every single time Kenny agreed to let them pay for him, he’d get home and have to deal with the guilt of it all. He didn’t wanna deal with that today! 

“Dude, it’s really not a big deal. Kyle and I can split-“

“I don’t want you to pay for me.” Throwing himself down onto Stan’s couch, he’d cross his arms. He wasn’t going to budge on his one. “Just go. Have fun!” Grabbing the drawstrings on his parka, he’d pull it shut, signaling that he was done talking. Conversation over. 

“But, Kenny…Kenny, we really want you to-!” Kyle would start to say, only to get cut off by a hand being placed on his shoulder. He’d turn to Stan to give him another look; just to be met with a completely different look staring right back at him. 

They’d stare at each other for a few minutes, not a word leaving their lips before Kyle finally broke the silence. “…Gotcha’.”

“Kenny…” Stan would start, glancing at Kyle every now and then to make sure he was getting into position. “We really want you to come.” He’d say, sitting down on Kenny’s left. He’d wait for Kyle to sit down on his right before continuing. 

“Surely, there must be some way we could-“ Snaking his hand around, he’d loop his hands under both of Kenny’s arms, turning him counterclockwise. “Twist your arm on this?” With that line dropped, he’d give Kyle a wink. His silent way of saying “He’s all yours.” 

Kenny would let out a surprised yelp at being grabbed, taking a second to truly comprehend the predicament he was in. He’d try to open his mouth to bargain, or beg, or something that could save him- but Kyle wasted no time. All he managed to get out was a startled, “Wait- please don’t!” before Kyle began digging his finger into his sides. A squeal would be ripped from his throat as he immediately began to thrash from side to side.

“Guhuhuys! Stohohop ihihit!!” He’d giggle, a bit embarrassed by how easily it was to make him laugh. He’d thrash around in Stan’s hold, kicking his legs in an attempt to break free.

“Don’t kick me, Kenny! I’ll make it, like, ten times worse!” Kyle would teasingly threaten, squeezing both of his sides one at a time. Like a little pattern! “You know, I’ll stop tickling you if you come to Bennigan’s with us!” 

“Mm-mhmhmhmhm!!! I dohohon’t wahahanna!!” Kenny would frantically shake his head, throwing himself to and fro as he laughed. He’d clench his hands into fists, yanking himself forward. But it seemed whenever Kenny thought he got the tiniest bit of leverage- Stan would just tighten his grip. 

“Kenny, c’mon! Kyle’s being so nice to you right now!” Stan would remark, speaking from experience. Actually, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous. Why couldn’t he go that easy on him? “Don’t you want to quit while you’re ahead? He’s being super merciful.”

“Stan. Don’t backseat drive, dude. If you think you could do better, we could just switch-“ Kyle would scoff, although it was easy to tell he wasn't as offended as his words made him sound. “If you don't trust my tickling abilities, that’s fine-” He’d grumble, sneaking his fingers under Kenny’s parka. He’d walk his fingers up and down his sides, making Kenny squeak from the sudden switch-up.

“No! No no- I get what you're doing- building suspense! I'm down for it, 100%. I'm just... bargaining with him! Tactics. You know?” Stan would quickly change his tune, nodding in agreement.

“Chrihihist!! Thihis ihis sohoho duhuhumb!!” Kenny would whine through his giggles, throwing his head back in annoyance. “I sahaid I dohon’t wahahanna gohoho! Stohohop ihit alreheheady!”

“But you do wanna go Kenny, that’s the problem!” Kyle would insist. “We know you wanna come- make things easier for yourself! We don’t mind paying, just swallow your pride and have lunch with us!”

“Nohohoho!!!” Kenny would squeal as Kyle started poking at his ribs. He’d jerk even harder, still being trapped between the couch and his two friends. “I dohohon’t wahahanna gohoho anywhehere wihihith yohohou dihihickheheads!”

“Dickheads?!”

“Dickheads?”

Kyle would gasp in feigned horror and offense, halting the tickling momentarily; whereas Stan would just blink in confusion. “Where did you get dickheads from? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call us dickheads before-“

“Dickheads! He called us dickheads, Stan!” Kyle would shout, a stunned expression on his face. “We can’t let him get away with that, right? He called us dickheads!” Kyle would repeat yet again, just in case the word went totally unnoticed. “Say sorry, Kenny! Say you didn’t mean to call us dickheads!”

Kenny would visibly weigh out his options as his sat there, Stan’s arms still holding his tight while Kyle’s hands laid flat on his ribs. Sure, the logical choice would be to just concede and chalk it up to a slip of the tongue. But…Kenny just wasn’t in the mood for that. “…No!” He’d confidently exclaim after a couple of beats. “You guys are dickheads and I don’t wanna go to Bennigan’s!”

“No? Fine! Suit yourself, dude. Stan, can you focus up there?” Kyle would ask, removing his fingers from Kenny’s parka. He’d crack both his knuckles, watching as Stan grabbed both of Kenny’s wrists with his left hand before beginning to hold them above his head. “You wanna be an asshole? Fine then, be an asshole!”

Kenny would giggle in anticipation, pulling at his arms, hoping for some miracle surge of strength that would let him pull his arms down. But it seemed like his luck really wasn’t there today, since no miracle surge would ever appear. He’d squeeze his eyes shut, bracing himself as he got ready for the countdown. They would have to do a countdown, right?

Wrong. Kenny was very wrong. Stan and Kyle would have some prolonged eye contact for a little bit, communicating when to start. About five seconds after Kenny closed his eyes was what they settled on. Kyle would give Stan a moment to go first, nodding his head as Stan abruptly began scribbling his fingers into Kenny’s armpits.

“WAHAhahait! Stahahan!” Kenny would jump from the sudden attack, a peel of laughter pouring out. “Hehehey, nohoho fahahair! It’s two agahahaisnt ohoneEE-“ Kenny would start to complain, not really expecting Kyle to actually go for the kill. Sure, he said he would…maybe he should’ve known better than to doubt him. But doubt him he did, so he was nowhere near prepared when Kyle dove into his hips.

“SHIHIHIHIT!” Kenny would jolt, letting out a noise that could only be described as the scream of a man who was being brutally murdered. And, for this situation? Pretty valid. “NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!” He’d cackle, practically screaming with laughter at this point. Very fitting. He’d flail his legs, trying his hardest to get one good kick in- just for a little bit of leeway. Even if it meant he had to roll off the couch, he’d take anything at this point.

“Aw, damn it…” Stan would let out a very fake sigh of disappointment, tsking as he shook his head. “I’m sorry to do this to ya’, Kenny…but I can’t understand you. Like. At all.” He’d say, pouting his lips. Just for the dramatics of it all! “I’m normally fluent in Kenny! I don’t know what happened…” He’d sigh yet again, going agonizingly slow with his portion of the tickling. “…Kyle? Do you know what he said? It’s really bumming me out…”

“Oh, Yeah! Don’t worry dude, I got you!” Kyle would nod with a bright smile, immediately going along with Stan’s little bit. “He said “Please keep tickling me Stan and Kyle! I love being tickled allll over! It’s just soooo much fun! That’s the real reason why I’m being such a dick to you guys! I just loveee being tickled!” Thank you for being so honest with us, Kenny! You should’ve just asked sooner!”

“Ohhhh, I gotcha!” Stan would nod, speeding up his fingers. “Yeah, you should’ve just said so sooner, Kenny! We could keep doing this all day! Oh- actually- that just gave me an idea! Let’s do this instead! We don’t need Bennigan’s, let’s just tickle Kenny alll day long!” Jesus fucking Christ on a bike, Kenny felt like he was going to turn into a fucking tomato. With how red he was, there wouldn’t be that much of a difference. Kenny wanted to keep on a brave face, just let them have their fun until the eventually got tuckered out. But upon hearing Stan’s new “brilliant” idea, Kenny couldn’t help but worry that they actually would put that plan into motion. He couldn’t handle that. Actually, he couldn’t really handle this.

“OKAHAHAHAY!! OKAHAHAY OKAHAHAHAY! I’LL GOHOHOHO!!”

“And?”

“I’M SOHOHOHORRY FOHOHOR CAHAHALLING YOHOU GUHUYS DIHIHICKHEHEADS!! I’M SOHOHO SOHOHORRY!”

Kenny would wave his verbal white flag of surrender in the air, and it would only take milliseconds for both Stan and Kyle to stop tickling, remove their hands, and let him go. He could’ve sworn he saw the two fist-bump as they did, but he was so out of breath, maybe he hallucinated it? He probably didn’t, but he wouldn’t point it out. Just in case.

“Great! Don’t bring your wallet, ‘whole thing is on us!” Stan would casually say, making his way to the door yet again. Kenny wasn’t able to fight the look of utter confusion on his face. The two acted like nothing had just happened, like they didn’t almost kill him a few seconds ago. How the hell-?

“We’re really happy you’re coming, Kenny..” Kyle would say, staying behind for a bit as Stan walked out the door. “You can catch your breath- but don’t take too long! Stan and I are gonna wait for you outside, and we’re not going without you!” And just like that, they were gone. Like nothing had happened. Kenny would be left on the couch; feeling breathless, confused, and kind of…grateful?

They really wanted him to go that bad? He thought he was just being a burden, but they went through all that trouble convincing him- just so he would come? That meant something, didn’t it? Maybe they had a weird way of showing it; but that meant they cared, didn’t it? It had to, right? Words couldn’t really describe how he felt at the moment. In fact, only two words would be able to leave him mouth; let alone come to mind at all.

“‘Fucking dickheads…”

[brittababbles]

House of the Dragon S2e1: blow by blow reaction on second watch

Spoilers beyond this point

1. I love the tapestry opening. Very reminiscent of GoT’s maps.

1a. Matt Smith gets top billing, huh? Interesting choice.

2. Ah Winterfell, and the Wall. And a nice thick northern accent doing voiceover. Is it weird that I can smell Winterfell? I’ve missed this place.

3. :( sweet Jace seems to be having a nice time in the North. Enjoy while you can, sweet boy. Though he’s got to be freezing at the Wall.

4. What does it keep out? Don’t worry about it, Jace. It doesn’t matter right now. That’s a different series entirely.

5. Jace looks hauntingly like Jon Snow when he’s standing on the wall and I Don’t Like It

6. Rhaenys not taking Daemon’s shit makes my soul less unhappy. She’s all “hey daemon remember how you let my daughter die? This is like that.”

7. In fairness, Daemon isn’t wrong.

8. “Would that you were the king” gods be good, Rhaenys. We’d all be dead

9. I have nothing to add about Rhaenyra in the Stormlands. The entirety of it is just beautiful and sorrowful.

9. Why are we still talking about the Stepstones? That was soooo last season, Corlys.

10. Who is this burly handsome fellow chatting with Corlys? He’s delightful. Dragging bodies out of the sea! Wowweee 😍

11. Dude if you can see her from that far out, that dragon is Vhagar. Chill.

12. Aegon seems to at least like his children. And Helaena, at least on some level.

13. “The rats” oh my sweet girl.

14. So. How long have you and Cole been doing this, Alicient? More than once? Is he your whore, perhaps?

15. But also why do you have to stop? You’re a widow. You can do what you want.

16. CHEESE?!

16a. And Cheese’s dog, whom I adore.

17. Aegon is… so bad at this being king thing. Just so bad at it and it’s weirdly endearing. Also little Jaehaerys? So sweet. Poor thing.

18. I love how nobody likes Tyland Lannister. I don’t like Tyland Lannister.

19. Aemond!

19a. Does Aemond straighten his hair or is it just like that?

20. I forgot about Otto Hightower. And Larys Strong. I am happier having forgotten them and shall continue to do so.

21. Larys knows you been fucking the lord commander, Alicent. And he’s spying on you. And he’s still the creepiest guy in a series that casually accepts incest as the norm.

22. Syrax is my second, maybe third favorite of the dragons and I have missed her.

23. Rhaenyra my Queen. My gods this was tragic. Daemon is right: she shouldn’t have done this alone. I’m glad at least Syrax is with her

24. “Aegon the Magnanimous” wh wh what 😂

25. You’re so bad at this Aegon. But I guess at least you’re earnest about it. Aegon the Frat Boy is too on point, I suppose.

26. You know, I don’t like Otto, but honestly. Bless his heart for herding his grandson through King-hood is painful to watch.

27. In retrospect, the odd shots of the castle make sense. This whole episode foreshadows the end of it with these weird, creeping shots of the Red Keep, particularly in the halls and through the railways.

28. I see that nobody in Aemond’s family understands him at all. Except maybe Daemon.

29. Oh that’s not someone knocking on the door. That’s the drums of the soundtrack. Heh.

30. Baby goats!

31. Mysyria is… not my favorite. But she does have a thorough understanding of Daemon that Rhaenyra seems to sometimes lack.

32. Whoa. Damn, Daemon. Easy now. Don’t break the table.

33. Syrax is back! Hi Syrax!

34. Aw, that Targaryen forehead touch.

35. “I want Aemond Targaryen” I feel like that’s a common feeling toward him, for better or worse, Rhaenyra. Just based on fanfic results alone.

36. Daemon I know where this plan ends and I don’t like it.

37. Jace! Mama Rhaenyra! Oh Jace is trying so hard to be brave for his Queen.

38. I’ve seen a lot of people raving against this sequence in the Sept but I really liked it. Alicent did not mean for Luke to die and I do think she still cares for Rhaenyra. Her childhood friend lost a son, and to pray for peace for a dead child is not something that should be shamed. Also on a cinematography level, the candlelight vs the pyre flames was gorgeous.

39. Little Joffrey is breaking my heart.

40. I spent a solid ten seconds trying to work out why Aemond was screwing around in Blackwater Bay because I assumed he had taken over the Cloak of Crime. But no! It’s Daemon! Again!

41. Ehhhh Blood and Cheese and I just don’t like it. Cheese is just gross.

42. Interesting departure. Daemon orders Aemond’s death.

43. Speaking of whom. Aemond is… odd. He isn’t wrong, but he overestimates himself. But then he’s not entirely wrong. His mother’s fondness for Rhaenyra could be seen as a weakness. Though he certainly is playing his own hand here.

44. Ah the “cunning spider” line from Cole that is just a hilarious projection.

45. Does Aemond not have to get up when Otto walks in the room?

46. No Otto. Vhagar is the greatest single power in the realm. Aemond is but a fly on her back.

47. Cheese’s dog looks so much like my dog and I am so upset about it.

48. So… y’all are just going to waltz across the throne room and nobody will notice? That’s… fine?

49. Loyal as a hound, eh?

50. I hold with Aegon the Frat Boy as his title.

51 Uh, you go up the stairs to get upstairs, Blood. That’s how upstairs usually works.

52. DON’T KICK THE DOG!!! 😫😫😫

53. So… Daemon told them that if they can’t find Aemond they should just… improvise? Any male’s head will do? That’s not what Rhaenyra said at all.

54. Why are they just wandering around the castle unchecked? This just doesn’t make sense

55. I really wanted to see a bit more from Helaena here. Some pleading, some begging, some bargaining, maybe. I know she’s probably shutting down emotionally, and Phia’s face shows terror - and guilt - very well. But this whole scene is just so odd. But, I do think there is something genuine about this performance

56. “They killed the boy” she’s in shock. This part didn’t feel at all out of place for the Helaena we’ve seen on screen.

57. And that’s it. What a strange episode.

[killergirlfuria]

Since I ended up writing a protocreed fanfic (work in progress) in the year of our lord 2023, I decided might as well share a snippet with you.

Under the cut you will find the first scene of the oneshot I'm working on. It's deslex, hurt/comfort, and fluff. Takes place after [PROTOTYPE] (the first) and Assassin's Creed 3; it assumes the events of [PROTOTYPE] took place right before events of Assassin's Creed series (1-3).

Bleeding Effect inaccuracies to follow, I'm making half this shit up.

•••

Desmond can’t sleep. 

He feels tired, exhaustion seeped into his very bones turning them heavy and aching, but he’s been awake for hours. Tried every trick he knew to fall asleep and failed each time, distracted by the dull pulsating pain in his right hand and the occasional translucent figure that only he can see looming over him. There’s a pressure behind his ears like his body can’t quite decide if it wants to hurt or not, skewing ever so closer to a headache with each passing minute. The crook of the elbow of his left hand also smarts, no longer hooked to IVs, tender and trying to heal.

Even the warm body besides him provides little comfort. Hands entwined together is about as much as Desmond is able to muster for physical contact, his skin tight and overstimulated as the memory-pain of touching the Eye haunts him still. He’s getting better, but it’s frustrating, because he craves contact but his body keeps recoiling from it.

He turns his head to the side.

“You awake?”

The pile of blankets next to him shifts slightly. Something hisses under all that fabric, distinctly inhuman, black tendrils wrap more firmly around the wrist and fingers of his left hand, themselves only barely in the form of a hand, clawed, skinless, and oily-black. Desmond only brings it close to his face, places a gentle kiss on the biomass. It shudders slightly, and then retreats.

“If you can’t sleep,” a muffled, raspy voice comes from under all the fabric, “you can go make me coffee instead of moping.”

Desmond chuckles. “I suppose I can. The sun’s already up anyway.”

It’s shining through the window, all the brighter for all the snow outside.

And if he moves, he’ll feel better. He thinks so, at least. Stagnation always bothered him more.

Desmond pushes his own duvet off—mercifully left alone for the night, though snatched into the pile by twined black tentacles the moment his feet hit the floor—and gets up slowly. He’s sluggish with the now-familiar ache, and the air in the van is certainly colder than under the covers for the winter outside. He maneuvers his hand into a sling, and then a cardigan onto his shoulders for warmth, and walks the two steps it takes him to reach the kitchen.

The van is spacious for what it is, with a bed at the back, small but fully equipped kitchen on one side and a small table and a sitting area right behind the driver’s seat. Everything else is shelves and cabinets, wherever they reasonably fit. Or unreasonably. Storage is good, though for now Desmond doesn’t have much to use it for. He never had much, always on the move.

Maybe it’s time to change.

It’s only been a few days, but Desmond has acclimated to this space faster than ever before. It’s cozy, a little tight but comforting. He always preferred big open spaces, clear skies and the wind in his hair, but here he feels safe.

It’s a first, for a small space with nowhere to run or hide. Might be in big part thanks to who he shares it with.

He steadfastly ignores a shining specter standing in the corner, hooded and silent. It can’t do more than hover in his periphery, anyway.

Even with only one fully functional hand, making a cup of tea and a cup of coffee each isn’t difficult. He’s done more elaborate tricks when he was bartending at Bad Weather, and—

Fuck, was it really only four months ago? He has lived at least three lifetimes since then. Died, too.

It didn’t stick, sure, but it was haunting him. All of it. It would, he knew, likely for as long as he lived.

Desmond shakes his head as he sets a mug of steaming coffee on the counter closest to the bed and lets it do its thing as he sits down by the window and looks out, tea with entirely too much sugar in hand. Outside is more of a painting than anything else, glittering and sleepy, trees and rocks and ground covered in snow.

The pile of blankets shifts, slithers ever so slightly towards the edge of the bed. It shifts a little more— a pale hand sticks from under it, then another, then a pale face with a mop of dark curly hair and bright eyes the color of ice, rimmed with red. Alex sits up, vaults one leg over the ledge, sets it on the floor, then the other, bundles the blankets more securely around his shoulders. Black tendrils frame his chin, cover the entirety of his neck and dip under his shirt, encroaching on his hands. Tendrils writhe both over and under his skin as he doesn’t bother to fully mimic a human just yet.

He’s wearing Desmond’s fluffy socks, the green ones. Desmond was looking for them last evening, damnit.

A red-and-black tendril sneaks from under the blankets and reaches forward, wraps around the mug and pulls it through the air into Alex’ waiting hands. He barely wraps his fingers around it and is already taking a big sip, completely unbothered by how scalding hot the coffee is. His frown softens as soon as he does so. The ripples under his skin settle just to the left of being human enough.

"How are you feeling today?" Alex asks once he’s done pondering his coffee, icy eyes zoning in on him. “Your sleep has gotten worse. How’s the hand? Any hallucinations?”

Desmond looks at his right hand, utterly mummified from bicep down, bandage bulky with ointment pads, resting in the mesh sling. It gives off a strong antiseptic clinical smell, but Desmond isn’t about to complain. It’s that, or the smell of burned human flesh.

"Radiating dull pain, and itchy to the bone like the whole week until now. Actually it’s been hurting a little less,” he says and looks at his hand. The scientist in Alex was endlessly fascinated by the fact that it was seemingly completely charred, yet somehow still healing. Desmond was a mostly regular human after all. “I’ve been Bleeding most of the time I’ve been awake today, though.”

Ice eyes narrow. “That’s very concerning.”

“It’s only the ghosts,” Desmond says dismissively. “I can ignore them.”

Alex looks like he just bit into a lemon, arguments barely kept behind his teeth.

“We can’t do anything about the Bleeds,” Desmond reminds him, and his face sours further.

“I know,” Alex says, fingers momentarily squeezing around his coffee. It’s a testament to his control that the ceramic mug doesn’t even crack; Desmond remembers clearly how he tore Vidic’s armored truck open with his bare hands without much issue.

He gets up, moves back to the bed, sits down next to Alex. Bumps their shoulders together, and is glad to find his body doesn’t make him recoil anymore. His skin still feels a little raw, but not overstimulated enough to shy from all physical contact anymore. 

“I shouldn’t be alive at all,” Desmond reminds him. “It’s a miracle that I am, and I can deal with some slight Bleeding in exchange.”

“Alright,” Alex says, tone frustrated. He lays his head on Desmond’s shoulder, and Desmond shivers but doesn’t flinch. “But if it gets any worse you need to tell me. I can’t do much about it, but there has to be something—”

“I know,” Desmond says and kisses the top of his head, lingers a little. “Just keep reminding me that I’m me, and that I’m real. We’ll figure out the rest. They’re much more bearable now that I’m not frying my brain in the Animus anymore.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ll be okay,” Desmond promises, though he doesn’t know if it’s to Alex or himself. “I’m not now, obviously I’m not and I won’t pretend I am, but I will be.”

And he thinks he can, for once. That it’s not an empty promise.

Alex squeezes his bicep and then wraps his arm around Desmond’s waist in response, legs bumping together, and for the first time since Desmond woke up he doesn’t move away. His skin still crawls, overstimulated, but it’s slight enough for him to be able to lean into the touch. They stay like that, content to relish in each-other’s warmth and little else. It’s quiet and comfortable in the calm around them, enough for them to pretend the world isn’t out to get them. Enough to hope that it maybe really will be alright.

Desmond almost doesn’t mind the hooded figure standing in the corner, see-through and staring straight at him with its glowing yellow eyes.