#and it had all its books just kinda mixed together

[sceletaflores]

you need a seat? i’ll volunteer!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: how much of a selfish douche does patrick have to be to not beg tashi to sit on his face every night? you certainly would.

—or: you show tashi what she’s missing out on…

word count: 3.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving) but not really, cheating (i can't stop lmao), patrick catching strays, a hint of "there's only one bed" trope, kinda sad angsty wlw pining, like this got a little depressing at the end lmao, more plot than i thought it would have when i started writing it (i physically can't not write so much plot it's a disease), no use of y/n.

author's note: AHHH HAPPY PRIDE!!! this is purely self indulgent lmao no one asked for this but i just had to write it. this is my first ever wlw fic!!! I know, please stop clapping, it was my duty to post one during pride month. i'm still writing the homoerotic wlw friendship fic, i promise it's coming! i just wrote this one way faster than i thought i would lol okay hope you love it! mwah xoxo

You and Tashi sit across from each other on the bed of some fancy hotel room in Texas the night before a match against UT with a new, exciting charge in the air between you.

Actually, the two of you sit on the only bed in the room after a mix up with the hotel’s booking but “You girls are close, you don’t mind sharing? Right?”

Your coach was right, you don’t mind sharing at all. Not one bit.

You and Tashi were more than close. The two of you have been best friends since middle school, and playing tennis with each other just as long. Whether it was playing side by side or with one of you standing on the opposite end of the court. It was you and her, always.

You realized your feelings for Tashi Duncan were a little more than platonic when you were 15 years old. You were staying the night at her house, laying on her bed with your legs tangled together under the covers watching Mean Girls as Tashi idly braided your hair. It was during the Halloween party scene where Cady catches Regina and Aaron kissing when Tashi spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “Have you ever kissed a boy like that?”

You just shook your head silently, leaning further into her hands as Cady stormed out of the party on-screen. You didn’t know why she was asking you, you told her everything. If a boy kissed you like that she’d be the first to know. Tashi was silent for a few more seconds, tying off the end of your braid and resting her hands on your shoulders. 

“I could show you how,” she had said, “You know, for when guys want to kiss you like that.”

You immediately felt your heart start to race, palms suddenly sweaty. Her suggestion caught you off guard, but you think you heard that girls actually do stuff like that. It’s just practice, it’s not like it’s a big deal. Plus Tashi’s your best friend, you trust her.

You turned up to face her, searching her eyes for any hint of a joke, but you found nothing. Her face was earnest, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked down at you, and her eyes filled with a mix of mischief and something deeper. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Tashi smiled, moving closer until your faces were inches apart. You closed your eyes as your breath mingled with hers, her hand settling softly on your jaw. The first touch of her lips was soft and sweet, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You gave in, parting your lips to let her tongue brush against yours. You felt something deep inside of you slot into place, like a missing puzzle piece finding its home. You got lost in the moment, mind going blank and fuzzy as your tongues explored each other's mouths. The thought of kissing boys suddenly felt unimportant and distant with Tashi’s lips moving against yours. 

All too soon she was pulling back, her face soft and flushed. “See? Not so scary,” she said with a smile, you swore you could hear a slight tremor in her voice. She brushed her thumb across your cheek once before she laid back against the headboard and cast her gaze to the movie still playing.

“Yeah…” you trailed off, leaning against her to watch Regina get hit by the bus. Your mind was still buzzing, the feel and taste of Tashi lingering on your lips.

That kiss changed everything for you, but the two of you never talked about it again. Tashi woke up the next morning as if nothing had changed, smiling at you over breakfast talking a thousand miles a minute about the new tennis club in town. It’s been years since then, years of pretending like you’re not really in love with Tashi Duncan, that it was just a phase. You just adore her so much, a totally normal platonic best friend kind of adoration, that’s all.

It’s well past the time you and Tashi should have been asleep by now, pre-match jitters and excitement keeping the two of you up late. You’d been talking for hours already, and somehow the topic has shifted into raunchier territory. Maybe later you’ll blame the pent-up energy for blurring your filter, but for now you were content swapping recaps of the latest hookups you’ve shared with Art for her stories with Patrick. 

The addition of Art and Patrick was definitely a new development in your relationship with Tashi. Two boys who thought they were being discreet following the two of you around the Adidas party all those months ago, taking turns chatting you up on the beach and inviting you back to their hotel room.

Then college started, and Patrick and Tashi were suddenly dating, and things sort of changed. Tashi was spending more time with him, leaving you alone to stew in your anger of feeling like the next best thing. Well not completely alone, Art was always there. In a similar situation as you, with Tashi taking up all of Patricks time when he’d visit campus. Leaving the two of you to sit in Art’s dorm sharing a handle of cheap vodka every time you got kicked out of your room so Tashi and Patrick could have some “alone time”.

Art’s hot, and he seemed to like you so it felt easy enough for the two of you to pair off like Tashi and Patrick did. You wouldn’t call it dating, friends with benefits fit better, but he was a nice distraction from the new Tashi shaped hole in your life, so you indulged. Tashi was overjoyed when she found out, so happy for you in every sense of the word. Constantly badgering you for details, like she was just before your conversation took a complete one-eighty.

“No way Patrick hasn’t asked you to do that before,” you ask a little too loudly, beyond shocked as you stare at Tashi sitting across from you on the mattress. 

She scoffs quietly, shaking her head as she picks at a loose thread sticking out of the comforter. “It’s kinda been all about him lately,” she trails off with a shrug, like that’s a good reason.

Fucking Patrick. You think bitterly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. What a fucking loser.

You knew he wasn’t good enough for Tashi the second you met him. All flashy bravado and superficial charm, like a peacock strutting around with no substance. Tashi seems to like him enough so you bite your tongue at every dreadful detail she’s told you about their relationship, because you’re such a good friend.

Seriously though, how much of a selfish douchebag does Patrick have to be not to beg Tashi to sit on his face every night? 

You certainly would.

“Art and you do that a lot?” she asks nonchalantly, but her eyes have a certain look to them. One you can’t quite place, they’re sharper than they were before. Maybe even a tiny bit challenging, as if she’s daring you to go there. You were never one to back down from a dare, especially in front of Tashi.

You nod slowly, fingers toying with the edge of your shorts.  “A couple times.”

“How’s it feel.” She makes it sound like a question, you know her well enough to recognize that it’s more like a thinly veiled demand. Her voice is barely above a whisper but she may as well have shouted at the top of her lungs with the way it cuts through the space between you so sharply.

You see flashes of Art red-faced and needy as you knelt on top of him with your knees on either side of his head, of him spilling inside his boxers as you rode his face, using his tongue to get yourself off.

It has warmth pooling in the bottom of your stomach, thighs subconsciously clenching together. You imagine yourself in Art’s place, laying flat on your back as Tashi kneels above you, chasing after the taste of her with your tongue. 

“So good…” You whisper back, voice breathy like you just got done training. You can feel Tashi’s eyes on you, intense and persistent.

You meet her gaze, her familiar brown eyes dark and blown out in a way you’ve never seen before. She looks flushed, her cheeks tinged with the slightest hint of red. Her lips part ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of teeth as she bites down on her full lower lip, a tiny gesture that sends a zing up your spine. It's like the room's temperature just shot up by ten degrees, creating a kind of heat that makes you feel light-headed.

Tashi’s stare is unwavering, it makes your skin crawl in the best way possible. She looks hungry, you feel a pang of unfiltered need shake your body like thunder. You’ve never felt deja vu before, but you’re guessing it feels something like this.

The offer slips past your lips before you can think of stopping it, “I mean…I could– I could like show you. If you want.”

For a second, there’s silence. All you can hear is the sounds of the city three floors below you flowing in through the window. The distant hum of traffic and faint chatter blend into a muted sound that underscores the tense quiet in your room. You hold your breath, forcing yourself to meet Tashi’s gaze. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, you’re inches away pretending it was a joke, from running away with your tail between your legs.

Then, Tashi’s eyes narrow slightly, her lips curling into a sly smile. She leans closer, bridging the small gap between the two of you, the mattress shifts under her weight. “Show me,” she murmurs, her voice an assertive whisper. The intensity in her eyes deepens, locking you in place. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears louder than the city noise outside. It wasn’t really a joke when you offered, but you never thought Tashi would actually call your bluff. You thought she’d just laugh, roll her eyes and call you gross with a smile on her face. You swallow hard, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach.

Tashi’s hand moves to your chin, gently bringing you closer to her. The electricity between you is palpable, a charged connection that sparks and crackles. Her thumb brushes across your lower lip, and you feel yourself leaning into her touch, your body responding before your mind can catch up. 

“Show me,” she repeats, her voice firmer now, a command wrapped in velvet. Her words hang in the air, thick with anticipation and promise. You nod, a small, almost unnoticeable movement.

“We- Art and I - we…uh, usually kiss before,” you try to sound casual. Tashi’s eyes soften, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“Then kiss me,” she says. You can feel her breath on your skin, warm and inviting. You lift your hand, reaching out slowly. Your fingers brush against the bare skin of her arm, you’ve touched her millions of times before, but this one is different. It’s a hesitant touch that feels both daring and delicate. She doesn't tense or pull away; instead, she leans into your touch, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your throat feels dry, your mind racing, but you push through, your hand glides up her arm, tracing a path to her shoulder. Her skin is smooth, warm under your touch, and you can feel the slight tremor that betrays the relaxed front she’s putting on.

With every inch you cover, you feel more confident, your movements becoming more assured. You lean in, close enough that you can see the slight rise and fall of her chest, hear the faint hitch in her breath. 

It’s been years, but you swear her lips feel the same. It’s far from the slow, sweet, timid kiss you shared on her bed. The moment they touch yours, it’s like a jolt of electricity runs through your veins, reigniting a fire deep within you that never truly died. Tashi’s lips are soft, yet demanding, moving with a hunger that mirrors your own. You can taste the faint hint of her coconut lip balm and something that’s uniquely Tashi, a flavor you had almost forgotten but that comes rushing back with each second that passes. You lose yourself in the rhythm, the pressure, the way her tongue teases yours, exploring, claiming.

If you weren’t so fucking turned on, so fucking wet that you’re drenching your panties, you’d probably laugh. You’d laugh at how easily you ended up back here, kissing Tashi just because she asked you too. You wonder if she’s thinking about that night too, if she ever thinks about it.

Your hands find her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more needy. Without thinking, you drag Tashi onto your lap, her chest pressing flush against yours as her knees fall on either side of your torso. She responds quickly, her fingers tangling in your hair, grip tight enough to have you softly moaning into the kiss. 

It’s messy, wet, and consuming, with spit mingling as your mouths fight for dominance. Tashi still refusing to let go of the upper-hand even though you’re technically supposed to be the one showing her something, but you don’t mind. She bites your lower lip, hard enough to make you groan, sending a shock-wave of heat straight to your core. Her nails scratch against your scalp, pulling you impossibly closer. The air is thick with the sounds of your ragged breathing and the soft, breathy moans escaping your throats. 

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other, a small thread of saliva connects your lips before it falls and breaks.

“Show me,” she whispers again, this time softer, almost a plea. And with a newfound confidence, you nod, ready to give her whatever she asks for. 

“Off,” you say impatiently, tugging at the waistband of her shorts. Tashi’s eyes darken, her breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps as she quickly complies, shimmying out of her shorts and tossing them aside. You waste no time, falling on your back so fast your body bounces on the mattress. You can hear the bed creaking as Tashi crawls towards you again, you can feel the warmth of her as she throws a leg over your hips and starts to make her way up your body. She pauses at your chest, hesitating. She looks down at you, her eyes more unsure and vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. You just smile softly, giving her a small nod and bringing your hands up to squeeze her thighs reassuringly. Her body is warm and firm beneath your palms. 

“Tash,” you whisper, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against her skin. “It’s just me.” 

Her eyes search yours for a second longer, the tension melts from her face, and she smiles. A real smile, not the fake one she gives pushy interviewers, one that reaches her eyes. Her vulnerability bleeds into tender determination as she gives you one sharp nod of her head and shuffles the rest of the way up your body.

With a sense of urgency, your fingers hook around the edge of her panties. Tashi’s trembling, her fingers digging into your shoulders, hips lifting slightly to aid you slide her panties to the side.

Being face to face with Tashi Duncan’s cunt feels euphoric. It feels right, like this is where you should have been all along. She’s so wet for you and so beautiful and so perfect and you can hardly wait to taste her.

You lean in, trailing soft, deliberate kisses along her inner thigh, feeling her shiver beneath your touch. Tashi’s breath hitches, a soft moan escaping her lips as you get closer to her core. Her eyes never leave yours, her pupils completely blown out and swallowing up the warm brown.

“Please,” she breathes, her voice strained with longing. The plea sends a thrill through you, has you feeling power drunk because the great Tashi Duncan is begging you. Begging you to touch her, begging you to make her feel good, begging you to make her come.

You lean your head up, you can feel her body tremble as your breath brushes against her. Your lips part, placing a soft kiss directly over her clit, making her squirm and moan softly above you. You flick your tongue out, teasing her, drawing more desperate sounds from her lips. 

The taste of her is intoxicating, flooding your senses and making you crave even more. She tastes like girl sweat, like girl sex, you moan into it, gripping her thighs hard to try in vain to steady yourself.

Tashi’s eyes flutter shut, her head falling back as your tongue slides through the wet slit of her cunt. Her response is immediate, lowering herself down against your tongue as a low moan escapes her lips. Tashi's hips start to move, instinctively seeking more, needing more.

You watch her through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the sight of her losing herself in the pleasure you're giving her. Her hands tangle in your hair again, guiding you, urging you on as you work your tongue along her slick entrance. The rhythm of her hips matches the movement of your mouth, and you can feel her growing wetter, absolutely drenching the bottom half of your face.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” she mutters, pretty face pinched in pleasure. You moan into her cunt, angling your head up to drag your tongue up her slit slowly until you reach her clit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue over it.

“Oh my God,” Tashi huffed. She opened her eyes and looked down between her legs, catching your glassy eyes with her own. The sight only made her grind her hips faster, “You’re so pretty,” She muttered. Your loud moan is muffled by her cunt, heart fluttering in your chest at her words. You can feel your hands start shaking with the intensity of the moment, way more intimate than it probably should be.

Her right hand lets go of your hair, shooting out to lace her fingers with yours. She squeezes your hand hard, gripping onto it like a lifeline as she rides your tongue. You respond in kind, using your free hand to guide her, to hold her steady as you delve deeper into her cunt, your nose bumping up against her clit. Her taste, her reactions, everything about her is perfect, and you can feel her body tightening, her muscles clenching as she gets closer and closer to the edge. 

Her other hand tightened its grip on your hair, pulling you closer as she threw her head back, a low, throaty moan escaping her lips. “Don’t stop,” she gasps, her voice breaking, “I’m close.”

You increase your pace, tongue working even faster over her clenching cunt. You lose yourself in her, in the rhythm of her movements, in the sounds of her moans and gasps. You need her to come, you need to see, need to feel it, need to hear it, need to fucking taste it.

And she does, her body tensing, then shaking as she cries out your name, the sound filling the room. You hold her through it, your tongue moving in gentle, soothing strokes as she rides out her orgasm, her body slowly relaxing under your touch. You keep going, tongue greedily soaking up everything she has to give you until she’s spent, her body going limp, her breath coming out in ragged, uneven gasps. 

Tashi leans back, blindly shoving her free hand down your shorts to delve between your slick thighs. Your hand grips hers harder, moaning out as her fingertips brush over your throbbing clit. Your eyes open to find Tashi already staring down at you between her thighs, the fancy hotel lights making a halo of light around her messy hair. She looks fucking ethereal.

You’re so worked up it only takes a few clumsy circles of Tashi’s fingers to push you over the edge. Back arching off the bed as you come, hips bucking up into her touch. Waves of pleasure crash through you as you soak your panties in your release as Tashi watches with sharp eyes. She keeps going, fingertips sliding over you with featherlight touches until you’re squirming away, thighs instinctively clenching shut.

Tashi falls back onto the bed next to you, the two of you laying beside each other trying to catch your breath. The room is filled with the soft sound of your synced heavy breathing, you can feel her hair tickling your neck from where it splayed out on the pillows.

“Patrick’s coming to the UT game tomorrow,” her voice breaks the silence, voice raspy and winded, “Art will probably be with him.”

Her impassive tone feels like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. You look at her, but Tashi keeps her gaze trained on the ceiling, her chest rising and falling quickly. She’s sweaty, baby hairs sticking to her forehead, her face is stony. She closes her eyes, it feels like a door slamming in your face. Your heart sinks in your chest, dread starting to wrap its tendrils around you.

Patrick and Art. Their names hang in the air like a storm cloud threatening to burst, casting a shadow over the fragile intimacy of the moment. You swallow hard, trying to muster a response, but words elude you in the suffocating silence. Tashi speaks again before you can, “We should all go out to dinner after, like on a double date or something.”

You trace the outline of her profile with your eyes, the curve of her jawline, the faint sheen of sweat on her skin. Each detail seems sharper, more defined, as if etching itself into your memory with painful clarity all over again. You have to close your eyes too, scared if you keep them open that the tears burning your waterline will start flowing down your cheeks. All you can do is lie there, next to Tashi, and feel the weight of her words settle into the space between you, putting up a barrier you're not sure how to breach. 

“Yeah…sounds good.”

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[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Viktor x Reader Headcanons

Pronouns for reader: Gender neutral, AFAB undertones if you squint

Relationship type: Platonic to Romantic

General Idea: Some silly little headcanons I have for Viktor because he's still my silly little princess. Even after the whole glorious evolution thing.

Content Warnings: S1 Viktor, no S2 spoilers, But there as little bit of s2 viktor's mindset, I'm projecting a little bit (a lot) but it's fine.

~☆~

I honestly see Viktor as asexual with light aromantic undertones (kinda like demiromantic, I guess??). He rarely ever developes romantic feelings. Like its a once in a blue moon thing.

Like... he has to know you for YEARS before something in his head is like "Oh... hey they kinda cute?"

However, when he DOES develop feelings that go beyond friendship, Viktor HEAVILY struggles with coming to terms with them. Not in like a "I don't DO feelings" type way, but more in a "Well... no... it could be this" type of way.

Oh, his heart rate speeds up a little bit when you two accidently brush hands? It must just be his nerves.

When he does realize that he has feelings for someone, it's kind of like that scene in Gravity Falls where Dipper is like "It's not like I stay awake at night thinking about Wendy" and it cuts to him laying awake thinking about Wendy XD

If he likes someone romantically, he talks about them a lot. Like as if trying to bring them up as much as he can. Like "Oh (Y/N) mentioned something about that book, said they really liked it" Or "(Y/N) actually said something similar about that topic" If he could yap about you for hours, he probably would.

Even if you're being PAINFULLY obvious about your romantic feelings towards Viktor, he will firmly believe you're just being friendly.

Why he does it is a mix between two things: one is that he's just not awesome with people. And second is that he firmly believes someone like you could never love someone like him back.

One night, Viktor had been constantly working without break, so you practically dragged him to his room by his ear and forced him to get some rest.

Viktor has a strong habit of having his workspace FILLED with old mugs, sometimes days old. He doesn't really mean to, just too wrapped up in Hextech to really notice.

He also struggles with meals too. Just like above, because he literally just gets too wrapped up in his work.

If Viktor actually confesses feelings, it's such an interesting experience. Because he doesn't just flat out say "Hey I have feelings for you". He stumbles over his words and rambles about something random in the middle of it. So you gotta help him out a little bit.

Viktor's love language is quality time. He'll make sure his seat is next to you when it can, he always yaps about what he's uncovered about Hextech.

Speaking of Hextech, if you just sit there and watch him work? He'd about die of happiness on the spot. If you, someone he really loved, took an interest to something he truly loved DOING? Perfect.

He used to get really flustered about physical affection. Like you held his hand one time and he about combusted. He was red in the face for hours. He got better with it overtime, of course. But for the first few months, he was pretty much bright red the whole time.

Dates are rare, neither of you have the time for it. But when you two do have dates of some kind, they're mostly stay at home type things.

You know that thing kids do? Like playing their own separate things together? Parallel play, I think it's called? Yeah you two do that a lot.

Viktor will be reading some papers and you'll be reading a book, your feet in his lap.

Speaking of, Viktor is such a reader omg He doesn't read a lot anymore due to his constant workload, but when he does, he reads a lot of like... old books. The ones with yellowing pages and smell nice? Yeah... those ones!

If you two slept in the same bed, he'd be all like... giggly and nervous the first few times. Just like affection, he'd get used to it. But it's still cute.

When you two are cuddling, run your fingers in his hair. He'll melt right into you regardless of the situation. It's like an instant relax button for him.

Him laying his head on your chest, and you running your fingers through his hair? Something about it just... works. It calms him down a lot and makes him feel at peace.

His favorite place to kiss is the crook of your neck. Especially if you're around his height (he's like... between 5'7 and 5'10. I don't remember exactly).

Or your temples. It's simple, it doesn't attract a lot of attention. And let's be real, it's underrated as hell.

He's not big on PDA, but he'll hold your hand in public. He likes holding onto just one of your fingers, like your pinkie or something like that. It, just like temple kisses, is simple and discreet.

He doesn't often say "I love you". He feels bad about it, but you don't mind. He often says I love you without saying it. Things like holding you while you sleep, kissing your forehead as you two read in each other's arms, weaving your fingers with his while he works.

He gets self-conscious a lot. He thinks you could do a lot better than him and that he's not perfect.

Please kiss this poor boy all over and tell him he's perfect as is 😭😭

~☆~

A/N:The Arcane brainrot has gotten to me... This is how I'm coping with the finale. But I've wanted to write Viktor or Sevika stuff for a HOT minute now. I've been in the Arcane fandom for YEARS (a fanfic writer even longer) but this is my first Arcane fic... wild XD

For more fics: my masterlist!

~Squeed

[hpdmguy]

ways they show each other love !

loads of rambles + clutter-less version below the cut

the yellow lines highlighting things is actually marking (almost) everywhere they touch since the primary theme of this piece is physical affection! the stars were just for fun

top left (kissing): pretty self explanatory! fun fact, it was the first thing i drew for this piece :)

top middle (hand on back): i was trying to sleep the other night and my brain suddenly went. drarry physical affection and that was the first thing i pictured! i kind of imagined this one as like... dracos stressed or something and harry just puts a nice comforting hand on his back

top right: the good ol pinkie hand hold,, link, ,think. yeah. no real thoughts behind this one. it fit the box and its cute

middle left (speech bubbles): one thing i see a lot (im pretty sure this is ((implied in)) canon as well, but dracos a big yapper! so its kinda showing here that harrys just listening to all hes got to say. probably my favourite one of the lot, i had fun rendering it. (looking at this post i too am a yapper)

middle (orange slices): theres this thing where you peel an orange for the people you love. you can look at it either way; draco providing food for harry, knowing his childhood food insecurity and always wanting to make sure he has something, or harry (whose love language is acts of service) giving something to draco, maybe after a long day

watermarked middle (draco constellation): just some fun symbolism i thought i might try to fit in

middle right (legs): in this theyre just chilling. dracos reading (the book didnt come across well ((i cant draw hands very well)).

right edge (flowers): these are narcissus flowers, also known as daffodils. a reference to narcissa malfoy, and also a reference i suppose to how she saved harry in the forest, because draco was alive, because harry saved him in the room of requirement

bottom left edge (flowers): these are lilies. partly to complete the circle of mothers saving sons saving the world, and partly because i wanted to fill space. (theyre fucking terrible to draw tho i do not recommend)

bottom left (hand in hair): well harrys hair is very luxurious as you can see and i imagine during cuddles draco cards his hand through it and teases out snarls and such. (i know hair pulling is something that can be seen as sexual, this isnt that and it isnt meant to be that and please dont see it as that :(

bottom watermark (stag): harrys patronus because why not

bottom middle: so this is a bit obscure but theres this post by @/iamnmbr3 that talks about a headcanon that they can share wands and its kind of special and intimate. so thats what ive depicted here. also for funsies harry has the draco constellation on his arm. not the big dipper. also i cant draw the dark mark for shit

bottom right (shoes): just a subtle way they can touch, not always big. just under the table or sitting on the sofa together, just to feel the other person there.

i knew i wanted a warm scheme and i knew i wanted orange and blue to play a big part in this. i was going to have warm colours on blue and cool colours on orange as a sort of contrast but that didnt end up working out.. the wand scene is an attempt at it except i mixed it up and made it cool on cool, its so washed out and i didnt bother to fix it

[mylifesjustacarousel]

hook’s fairy bestie

pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested!)

summary: you were known around campus as hook’s fairy bestie, but things and feelings change

type: kinda angsty, fluffy at the end

CW: bullying, implied nudity (?) for like a second

WC: 3K

requests are open! <3

Being a fairy was pretty cool. You were tiny and adorable, everybody loved you. Every fairy ever born was born with a talent; something that they were really good at and thrived while doing. Some were tinker fairies, some were water fairies… you were a dust keeper, or, more specifically, a dust alchemist. Dust alchemists took different pixie dusts, mixing them together to create dust that could mimic other fairy talents. This meant that you were also good with potions and spells, Honors Alchemy being one of your favorite classes.

But, being a fairy also had its cons. You had big feelings in such a tiny little body. James Hook, the long haired pirate who was a part of Uliana’s crew, was your best friend. It was quite an odd pairing, but when you two met you clicked instantly. You two met in the courtyard late one night while you were practicing your alchemy. You were making water bubbles in the water fountain that was in the center of the courtyard when he spotted you. He sat on the edge of the fountain as he watched you with pure curiosity in his eyes.

“What’s that?” he asked in a soft tone, not wanting to startle you.

“A water bubble,” you responded, not thinking anything of it. Humans couldn’t hear fairies. Well, they could, but all they could hear was little bell sounds. But, something about Hook was different. “Fascinating,” he mumbled as he continued to watch you.

Your eyes shot open, the bubble that you had been working on bursting as you looked over at him. “You can hear me? Like, actually hear me?”

Hook looked around, a bit confused. “Of course I can hear you? Am I not supposed to hear you?”

You squealed with excitement, explaining to him how humans usually couldn’t hear fairies. He listened to you, a bright smile on his face. Hook was beyond fascinated by you, and the two of you had spent the rest of the night getting to know each other. From that point on, you had him hooked.

A few months had gone by, and the two of you were as close as ever. You spent the majority of your days sitting on his shoulder, gazing at him lovingly. You couldn’t deny it, you had developed feelings for him over the time that you two had know each other. You were just hoping that he felt the same way about you.

You didn’t even know exactly what is was about him that drew you to him. Hook had a reputation on campus, and it wasn’t really a great one. But, you never understood it. When he was around you, he was the sweetest human alive. Not to mention, he was also drop dead gorgeous. Like, seriously. Gorgeous. He was just… different around you. A good different.

“You know how much I hate that class, y/n.” Hook groaned, pushing his textbook away. You were sat on his shoulder, trying to help him study for his upcoming Enchantment for Beginners exam. “Come on, James. This stuff is easy. It’s for beginners.”

You flew off of his shoulder and landed on his desk. You grabbed the tip of his finger, trying to pull his hand towards his textbook. “A little help here? Your hand weighs, like, a thousand pounds!”

“Ouch, that’s hurtful,” he giggled. He grabbed his book, opening it up to the page that he was last on. You walked across the pages, pointing to different spells and incantations as you explained them to him. You had become like his mini tutor, talking to him over and over again about the course material until it had stuck in his head. His grades had reflected it as well, they were the highest they had ever been since he first met you.

“You’ve been doing so well, J,” you said as you sat down on the edge of the book. “Just a few more minutes of studying, I promise.”

Hook rolled his eyes playfully. “We’ve been studying for hours, darling.” He brought his hand up, using the tip of his finger to ruffle your hair. You grimaced. “You know I hate when you do that, James. If I wasn’t so tiny, I’d tackle you.”

Your size difference had never really bothered you. Hook still liked you, regardless of the fact that you were only a few inches tall. So, you had nothing to worry about. But sometimes you had thought about what it would be like to be… normal. To not be trampled and swatted every time a person saw you because they thought you were a fly.

It also meant that you could form actual relationships. You had friends, of course, but no one wanted to date a fairy. It just wasn’t realistic, you were as small as a butterfly. You knew that you and Hook could never be together, but you still held out hope…

“Well, you are that tiny, so I can do this all I want.” He ruffled your hair again.

“You’re the worst, James!”

Hook was sat on the floor in Uliana’s lair, the rest of the VKs sitting around him. You were, of course, sat on his shoulder. The other VKs… had mixed opinions on you. Morgie thought you were absolutely adorable and constantly asked if he could keep you as a pet, while the others found the bell-like sound of your voice to be beyond irritating.

“Hook, there’s a bug on your shoulder. Can I squash it?” Maleficent asked. Her eyes glared daggers at you, her patience getting thinner and thinner as she had to hear Hook basically talk to himself. Hook rolled his eyes. “Enough, Mali. I’m gonna squash you.”

She hissed at him, earning a giggle from Hades who was sat next to her. “If I hear any more of that shrill noise coming from your little bestie, I’m going to feed her to the eels. Capisce?” She snarled.

You frowned, immediately becoming quiet on Hook’s shoulder. She didn’t really scare you, but you hated making things harder on Hook. He was taken a lot less seriously ever since the two of you had gotten close. After all, it was hard to take someone seriously when they have a little fairy following them around constantly.

“Easy there. She’s not even doing anything wrong.”

Maleficent rolled her eyes, a disgusted look on her face. “Oh, come on, Hook! She’s here all the time now, and she’s only around you all the time because she has a big fat crush on you! She’s changed you, and if Uliana finds out about this little thing you have going on, you and your little fairy are dead!”

You were sat there, your tiny face a bright shade of red. You were humiliated. There’s no way that he didn’t know that you had feelings for him, but you hoped that if you ignored your feelings, they would just go away. Within seconds, you had flown off, unable to even face Hook. Being fed to the eels didn’t sound so bad at that point.

“Y/n? You here, darling?” Hook called out, walking into your dorm room. You were sat on your windowsill, your head buried in your hands.

“Go away, James!” you exclaimed. He sighed, going over to you and kneeling in front of the windowsill. “You know that she’s just mean, y/n. That’s all she is. But, um, was she telling the truth?” he asked. You looked up at him, internally panicked.

“What if she was telling the truth?”

“Oh, darling…” He felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t think that you had actually felt that way. “You know that… we can’t be together. I don’t feel that way about you.”

You were horrified. Horrified that the conversation even happened, and horrified that you had been rejected. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you tried to collect yourself. “I mean, yeah, obviously. That’s so stupid, I don’t even know why you think that I would feel that way…” you rambled on. Tears had started to fall, making your tiny cheeks glisten.

“Hey, hey, you are my best friend. You know that we can’t be together… like that.”

Truth be told, Hook did like you. A lot. But, he also knew that it wasn’t realistic, for either of you. So, to save face, he hid his feelings; buried them deep, locked them up, and threw away the key.

“Yes, James, I know! Thank you for saying it over and over again,” you spat. “You know what? I just need to be alone right now.”

“Y/n, can we please talk about this-”

“Out, Hook!”

He frowned. You hadn’t called him Hook in a long time. It wouldn’t seem like much to an outsider, but he hated when you called him that. It made him feel like a stranger.

“Okay, Okay. I’ll go… but I still think we should talk about this at some point.”

As your bedroom door shut, you broke down. You had never really felt this way before. Of course, you had never gotten close enough to anyone for them to break your heart either. As you sat there, wiping your tears away as they cascaded down your face, you had one thought on your mind:

I just want to be normal.

It was a dangerous potion, one that would only work if everything was done exactly right. You were risking a lot, but the reward seemed much greater. If done correctly, you would become human. No more wings, no more magic. You would fit in. There was one problem though. You couldn’t make the potion on your own. You needed the help of someone a lot more… normal sized, and after a lot of searching and a lot of writing down what you wanted to say because nobody could understand you, you had finally recruited someone.

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” Bridget asked. “Once we do this, you can’t go back. But, if this is what you want, of course I’ll help you.” You gave her a very enthusiastic nod, tiny bell sounds ringing throughout the room.

“Alrighty, let’s get started then.” She opened the spellbook, turning to the page that you had marked. You watched over her shoulder as she poured ingredients into the cauldron, making sure that everything was measured exactly right.

Bridget grabbed the griffin claw and stirred up the potion. As she stirred it, it turned from a pile of ingredients to a bright purple liquid. “You know, this is kind of exciting. What do you think James is going to think? You guys are close, right?”

You hadn’t thought about Hook since he had left your room. You didn’t even know if you could face him after being absolutely humiliated. But, he had made his feelings perfectly clear. So you didn’t have to worry about him… you hoped.

She scooped some of the potion into a small cup for you, setting it down on the table. “You ready?” Bridget asked. You landed on the table, staring at the cup in front of you. Your entire life was about to change, the key to normalcy was sitting right in front of your eyes. It would be strange and different, but for the best.

You picked up the tiny cup and took a deep breath before downing the potion. Everything felt normal and you had started to panic, thinking that the potion was made wrong and it didn’t work.

Then your vision went dark.

“Y/n? Y/n, are you okay?” A voice asked from above you. You opened your eyes, immediately putting your hands up to shield them from the bright lights of your room. Slowly sitting up, you looked around. Bridget was sat next to you, a worried look on her face. You looked around the room.

Everything looked normal. It worked.

“Bridget, it worked!” you exclaimed, your hand reaching across your shoulder to feel your back. No wings. “Yeah, you took quite the tumble there. Is your head okay?” She felt the back of your head as she checked for any bumps.

“I feel great… and also a little underdressed.” When you had transformed, your teeny little clothes obviously didn’t transform with you. Bridget was luckily kind enough to wrap you in one of her blankets.

Bridget helped you up, leading you over to her bed where she had laid out clothes for you. “We’ll work on getting you some clothes of your own, but for now I am more than happy to share. I’m going to clean up, the bathroom is right over there. Call for me if you need me.”

You grabbed the clothes she laid out and brought them into the bathroom, setting them down on the counter. You smiled as you looked into the mirror that was in front of you. You looked like a hot mess, but you felt good.

Bridget was sat on her bed as she waited for you to come out of the bathroom. When you came out she got up, going over to you. “You look amazing. Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything?” she fixed your hair as she spoke. “I’m okay, Bridget. Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Sure, any time! I know that you would do the same for me. Oh, this is so exciting! I finally get to actually talk to you!” she squealed with pure excitement. “We have alchemy together tomorrow morning, so you’re welcome to stay the night! We could have our very first sleepover!”

“I would love to, Bridget.”

The next morning, Bridget helped you get ready. You were dressed like her twin in a bright pink sweater and white pants. It wasn’t exactly your style, but you felt cute. The walk to class was uneventful besides a few people staring and whispering here and there, but that was to be expected.

The two of you sat at your assigned seats once you had arrived at the classroom. All of your classmates gawked at you. It wasn’t every day that your classmate who was just a few inches tall the day before was now five feet tall and human.

Hook walked in, and he looked absolutely disheveled. The night before had been rough on him. He froze in his tracks when his eyes landed on the seat that you had usually sat in.

There was no way.

He sat down in his seat two rows behind yours. His eyes never left you, almost burning a hole into the back of your head due to how hard he was staring. He was in utter disbelief.

Around the end of the class, a note was slipped onto your station. You looked around curiously, trying to figure out who put it there, before opening the note.

Meet me at our spot at 8:30 - J

Your head whipped around as you looked for Hook. You felt a pit of nervousness build in your stomach. You thought that you didn’t care what he thought, but as you read his note all of your feelings for him resurfaced. What if he still didn’t like you?

The lake was yours and Hook’s spot. The two of you spent the day there every single day after school. You sat on the rocks, waiting for him to arrive. The nervousness you felt never left, in fact, it felt like it had actually doubled. Tripled, even.

“Y/n?” Hook asked. You turned around, and there he was. He was stood behind you, a puzzled look on his face. “Hi, James…” you mumbled as you tried to scan his face for a reaction.

He sat next to you and his hands cupped your cheeks. You sighed, the feeling of his cold rings against your cheeks helped you to relax a bit. He studied your face, noticing all of the little details he couldn’t see before. “Why did you do this, darling? You loved your magic.”

You took his hand in yours, holding it close to you. “I never fit in, James. I did love it, but I needed to make a change.”

He nodded, his hand squeezing yours. “Well, if this is what you want, then I’m happy for you. Even if you do kind of look like Bridget right now,” he teased. You rolled your eyes and gave him a gentle shove. “I’m borrowing her clothes until I get some of my own, be nice to her.”

“You could always borrow some of mine. They would definitely fit you a lot better now.”

You blushed, your heart almost beating out of your chest. He looked more gorgeous than ever in that moment. “J… I’m sorry about before. I let my feelings get the best of me and-”

His lips were pressed to yours within seconds. His skin was warm and soft and he held you like you were a porcelain doll that could break at any moment. You wrapped your arms around him as you tried to pull him closer. All of the anxious thoughts in your head had completely disappeared in that moment.

The two of you pulled away after a few seconds, your lipgloss smeared across his lips. You giggled and used your sleeve to wipe it off. “If you couldn’t tell, I like you too. This new you is going to take some getting used to, but I think that we can make it work.”

“Wait, you liked me back?”

“I did. I just, I thought it would be easier on you if you thought that I didn’t like you… which I see now was not the case and I am very sorry.” He wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“It’s okay. I mean, we both knew that it wouldn’t have worked out. But, it doesn’t matter anymore. This is me now,” you said excitedly.

“You know, despite being human now, you’re still pretty tiny, darling.” He reached his hand up, ruffling your hair. You turned to face him and lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. “Hey!” he shouted.

You smirked, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. “What? I told you that I would tackle you if you did that again.”

“I think I deserve another kiss for that load of rubbish.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned down, planting another kiss on his lips.

“That’s better, darling.”

a/n: WOWWWWW that was a long one. i had two people request literally the exact same thing so of course i had to deliver. i hope you enjoy, and if you wanna see anything else about this plot/story send me an ask! i enjoyed writing this one!! <3

[minsyal]

Until the End

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

SPOILER WARNING!! This has A LOT of spoilers for the next season of the show.

Summary: Aemond informs his wife of his impending battle. (Sorry if it’s kinda bad, just an idea after I read the book and I mean, he’s dreamy in a troubled kinda way.)

“A fortnight, then.”

Flame-lit logs crackled within the stone hearth, answering her words like a captivated audience. The murmur of gossiped tripe ached in her bones the same way it had since the beginning of her husband’s family affairs.

“I thought it right to tell you.” He replied with mixed emotion in his tone.

Ignoring him, she focused herself on the fiery embers as they rose upward, disappearing beyond the chimney’s base. Shades of bursting orange and flickering crimsons cast dramatic shadows across the contours of her warming skin. A rose blush crept onto her cheeks, and yet she pulled her shawl further around her shoulders.

“She is pregnant.” It would have been a question if not for the glaring truth of it all strewn upon his face. “Heavily pregnant.”

There was a distinct hesitance in the words that passed his lips next. He wondered if she had known all along; perhaps he had not hidden his affairs to the extent of his thoughts. Anyone with eyes or ears would have known. Yet, he had convinced himself that out of everyone it would not be she who held disbelief in his alignment.

“My love,” his words died as her anger erupted and flowed slowly from the tenseness of her shoulders.

“Do not.” Bitter as a soured fruit, her words were cut from her tongue. He opened his mouth to speak but was hushed by her calm rage. “If those words should ever leave you again, you will not have a tongue. I have dedicated myself to you, my life, my cause, everything.” She wouldn’t meet his eye. “You have no right to speak to me in such a manner. So, I only implore you for this and this only. When is the child due and will it be you who claims it as your own?”

Their relationship had never been a tumultuous one. Often they sailed upon smooth waters, their portage was met with clear skies and an outlook on the vast openness that was their journey together. But something was always lurking just below its surface. While his anger came in outbursts and pointed attacks, hers was more subtle and subdued. Her ferocity slithered beneath her exterior, only showing itself in passive quips, sharp words, and the intense avoidance of her gaze.

In truth, she was never more than a passing glance. Her beauty was outshined by that of her mother or even that of her grandmother. While desirable, she was often overlooked in a room of people. She was an always present individual, even if it were only physical and not of heart and mind. Countless times she was given grandiose offers for her hand by the endless barrage of scrambling lords who wanted to better their position and house’s prestige. Countless times she would hear whispers of their denials and the subsequent mild rage that seethed from the men’s bodies who were often more than twice her age. Even those who had attempted to court her mother in her blooming years had thought it right to do the same to her, expecting a different outcome. But it was their mistake, for they did not realize she was promised to another.

“I cannot give you information I do not have.”

His fingernails, though cut short and clean, dug crescents into the palms of his hands.

“Then you will contest it? You will deny to me in this instant that her child is yours? You will tell me that you have not taken her to your bed?”

“I can tell you whatever you would like to hear, my love. But I cannot promise the truth to my word.”

“Then I do not wish to hear it.” She sighed, but in a way that oozed resentment opposed to one of defeat. “Leave me.”

The weight of his stare pushed harshly against the vibrancy of her being. It swirled around in the air like smoke and ash, threatening to envelop her whole and take her to darkness. “I will not.” He defied her demand, standing firm just steps away from where she had positioned herself to watch the burning wood that warmed the room.

“You will do as I demand and leave me.” His steps were heavy as he drew closer, halted by her speaking once more. “Leave me.” The veins of her neck were strained, pumping blood viciously to her face causing it to blush a shade of pink. Yet, she continued to not meet his eye.

Even when he laid his hands upon her shoulders and shook her body wholly, she flouted her vision and expelled him from her line of view. He gripped her frantically, grasping at her upper and lower arms as he searched her for a semblance of the woman he knew.

“Look at me!” He repeated, growing more and more discontented. The pupils of his lilac eye vacillated from a pin-prick to an endless abyss. “I command you to look at me!”

It was almost childish. The two of them battled in distinctly different ways. He let his anger bubble to the surface and spill from his edges, while she preferred to not give people the satisfaction of seeing her hurt. They were both terribly flawed in their processes.

“Look at me!” He was yelling now.

“You cannot command anything of me.” She refused, choosing to focus on the golden clasps of his tunic that had been marred in dried brown blood. Whose, she did not know, but the sight of it left a poor taste upon her tongue.

“I can. You forget your place in the hierarchy.” His gloved fingers burnt against her skin. “Allow me to remind you,” he lowered his chin to rest upon her shoulder where his words vibrated from his chest to hers, “I am your lord husband and you are my lady wife. I am prince regent, my word is law.”

She could feel his resolve softening slightly as the steady beating of her heart and the softness of her breasts soothed his rugged rage. She could give in. She could allow him to coax her back to the ground where his iron heart kept him planted to the solid surface. There were many things she could have done and she chose the worst of them. All the hurt he had put her through was festering in her stomach, twisting and turning her insides in a wild rage. He had killed her brother and cousin, waged war against her mother and step-father, and kept her concealed within the Red Keep until they could be sure of her alignment. To top it all off, he had defiled her trust in him as a partner. He had taken another woman to bed.

“You cannot command anything of me as your command comes from your false claim to the throne.”

A crack in her voice was the only emotion in her words.

“You wear the conqueror’s crown yet have conquered nothing except for a common whore.”

He pushed himself backward in a way that did not use her body to project him so. Her feet remained planted and firm, unswaying in the storm that brewed in his chest.

Thundering and electrifying below the surface, he writhed in the sheets she had laid out before him in the bed he had made himself. He aimed to hurt. Taunting was his warfare and striking words were his blade.

“At the very least, my Alys can bear me children whereas you have failed at your only responsibility to me.” He took a step backward and composed himself, lifting his jaw and peering at her from the top of his cheek. Only when she finally brought her eyes to his did he turn it back down to stare down the bridge of his nose. “A fortnight, then.”

He turned on his heel and left his wife alone with her thoughts. If he had stayed a moment longer, he would have seen her shoulders tremble and her hand coast along the bodice of her gown. All the pain of his words was on display in her glassy eyes. All the rejection of his movements slowly burnt the bridge that connected them.

On day thirteen she remained locked in her chambers, hiding amongst the quilted sheets of her bed. No handmaiden or guard dare bother her and any movement on her behalf would have been reported to the prince who lingered on the grounds.

She only saw the moonlight on days twelve and eleven, waking from fitful dreams to an empty bed. Aemond had not warmed her sheets for months, constantly gone to battle and in the arms of another.

She emerged from her silken cocoon on day ten, wrapping herself in a black shawl before lingering in front of the fire for the remainder of the day. Homely sounds of her nieces and nephews pattering feet, her grandmother's anxious words, and the general organized chaos of the castle were ghosts in her ears. The room where she stayed now was not home. It was a prison. At first she thought it loving of her husband to take her to safety, to conceal her away from the battles. But the longer she remained, the more she grew to resent him.

On day nine, she was served a brothy soup that smelled of fresh thyme and flavored oil. It settled uncomfortably in her stomach and the heart of her meal was left in the bowl to chill in the midnight air.

It wasn’t until day eight that she finally stepped back into the land of the living where nothing had changed from the way she left it days prior. A guard noted her exit and promptly left, likely gone to alert the prince of her movements. A handmaiden, no older than she, guided her through the corridors, careful to not lead her in the direction of her husband’s new chambers.

“My lady, the prince requests you join him in his study.”

She continued past the guard who had been sent to summon her, her feet carrying her in the opposite direction.

The gardens were mild and temperate with summer flowers in bloom that seemed to cascade like waterfalls down the sides of the castle’s old stone walls. Colors of vibrant blues and pearlescent white were sprinkled about, contrasted by the brilliant deep green of the growing ivy.

Her handmaiden kept two steps behind her, occasionally picking a fallen leaf or petal out of the dress’s train. Otherwise, the two walked in a calming silence until she returned to her chambers for the remainder of the night.

On the seventh day, a sennight until her husband's battle, she woke to a bouquet of fresh heliotropes. They were all shades of purple, some amethyst and others deep like obsidian. She did not need to ponder long who they had come from. They were the same flower that adorned the Red Keep’s great hall on the day they wed. Eternal love was symbolized in the flower’s petals, but the definition of eternal seemed to end in the sheets of Harrenhal.

On the sixth day, she again spent her time awake in the middle of the night. Her room in the Holdfast overlooked some of the gardens where only guards patrolled at this late hour. However, she was not in the Holdfast. Dragonstone had become her new home. She sat in the window, a velvet shawl draped over her shoulders, bathing in the moonlight. There was vastly more to see here. From her perch, she could see the grounds below, a small village, and the empty ocean that reminded her of her father.

She wondered what her mother was doing. After being locked within the Red Keep, she lost all contact with the outside world. Any news of the war was only fed to her though eavesdropping either on maids or her cousins. It was rare for her to think about the consequences of her family’s actions, but with nothing else to distract her, her mind wandered. When she arrived in Dragonstone it got worse. All news of the war stopped as if everyone had been instructed to keep it a secret from the princess.

She thought back to the day she was told she was to marry her cousin. Her mother had taken her into the gardens and walked with her for hours. The two walked endlessly through the ivy and wisteria, eventually making their way into the less traveled pathways. Rhaenyra told her that she was betrothed and from that day forward she took her duties as a wife very seriously.

Until the day Rhaenyra and Laenor left for Dragonstone, she was counseled by the Queen, her grandmother and soon-to-be mother in law. Alicent had taken to the girl like her own daughter. She instilled a deep sense of duty and honor into her moral code, encouraging her to age with grace and the makings of a royal. The young girl enjoyed her time with both her mother and grandmother, but especially the moments she spent with her future husband.

Deep in her heart, she knew the days of married bliss were mere memories she had built with rose-colored glasses. She wondered if they were ever truly happy together.

On the third day, she emerged from her chambers clad in a gown of black and gold. Thick brocade fabric formed soft pleats that barely grazed the ground beneath her feet as she walked. A necklace of gold and sapphire laid delicately against her collarbone. She was tired of playing the part of a broken woman. Whether she liked it or not, she was the first born daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon. Laying down in defeat was not an option on the table.

Again, the prince regent called for his lady wife. Again, she did not heed his request, instead making her way through the halls of Dragonstone where she would eventually find herself standing at the edge of the cranberry bog where small pink flowers swirled together like a sunset sea. Come autumn they would be red fruits, ready to flavor the season.

“You have been avoiding me.”

The voice jostled her from her thoughts.

There, no more than ten feet back, stood her husband. He wore his usual attire, blackened leather with sleeves that came to his wrists. Platinum blonde hair was less tame than usual, wild strands framing his face in a delicate yet dangerous way. The sun glistened against his sapphire eye, matching the way it did against her necklace.

A simple nod in agreement was all she gave. It was easier to turn her back to him and let the past consume her.

“My,” he stopped himself. “I want to talk.”

“Then talk. Nobody is stopping you.”

His body pressed into hers in an intimate way it had not in ages. Long steps drew him near and the warmth of his waist was pressed into her side as he found his footing in the grass. His arms were latched behind his back with one hand cradling his other’s fingers.

“I remember the first time we properly met as betrothed children. You were a child of eight and I, nine. My mother had just denied a proposed betrothal between Helaena and Jacaerys.

My mother proposed a union between us. We were the leftover children, naturally we suited one another. You had just returned from the godswood and we were made to dine together.” The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “You hated every minute of it.”

“As did you.”

“I knew my duty was to you, to be a good husband for you, but I did not know you. Then you moved here. I had tried writing to you on multiple occasions, but the words never came to me naturally. I knew what to write, but without emotion it felt disingenuous. I wanted to be genuine.

However, at nine, I cared little for marriage. I wanted to be stronger, a better swordsman. I wanted a dragon, a true symbol of Targaryen power.

When Laena passed and we met again in Pentos, you were a different person. A year older and entirely different. You were the only one in your family to stand by my side when I was injured. I remember the way you screamed at your brother, telling him it was over and that violence was not the way. The sound of your screaming still rings in my ears as I tried to stop the bleeding. I can still feel your trembling hands as you tore the hems of your dress to give me the fabric. I can see the way your brothers seethed at the sight of it all.”

A breeze brought off the cliff side rustled the ruching of her gown. It had been many years since she thought back to that day. As a child of nine she was far beyond her years of maturity. Some would tell her she was the perfect bride for her husband-to-be. Calm in temper, she would tame the other who was constantly on edge.

“They loathed me for years afterward. My step sisters never quite forgave me.”

“And yet, you remain by my side.”

She laughed bitterly, tucking her chin to her chest as she angled her head away from him. “And yet, I do.”

Hesitancy was not a trait carried by the prince regent. In fact, there had rarely if ever been a time in which he had not displayed a self-assured attitude in every aspect of his life. But in that moment, with an outstretched arm, he hesitantly placed his ungloved hand to the small of her back.

A burst of uncomfortable tension crawled beneath her gown, spreading to her sides and shoulders in a crushing wave. She stiffened, eyes cast downward to the grass. It was only when his fingers, long and nimble, began to rub small circles of familiar softness. He had often done this since their union. Especially so when in the unforgiving presence of her step father and mother who grew to regret agreeing to wed the two.

“Do you regret it?” Aemond asked, his focus now shifted to the side of his wife’s face. He could see the turmoil in her creased brow in the way her eyes squinted and lip upturned. “For even a moment?”

The answer came with a surge of relief and confusion.

“No.”

How could she not regret it, he wondered. For all that he had put her through: the separation from her family, the loss of those closest to her, the grief of miscarriage, and the pain of intense heartbreak stemming from his adultery. He had stolen the comfortable life she lived from her and crumpled it beneath his shoe the moment she was promised to him.

A part of him wanted to shake her as he did a week prior. He wanted to scream and demand a reasonable answer as to why she does not resent the relationship. Every fiber of his being was set aflame with confusion.

“No?” He repeated. The hand placed on her side grasped at her waist to turn her body in his hold. Only when the tip of his finger coaxed her chin from her chest did she meet his gaze.

Wetness pooled at the rims of her eyes, clawing through her lower lashes to stream down her sunken cheeks. She was not one to cry. Even after the loss of her first, she did not publically shed a tear. “No.”

Aemond felt his betrayal, then.

The feeling bubbled in his stomach, churching uncomfortably in a wild whirlpool of emotion. It threatened to come up his throat, leaving long gashes of red hatred in his body. Each tear she shed was like a hole burst in his chest. The iridescent droplets were reminders of his sacred vow broken.

He choked on his response, leaving her an open stage to speak.

“Please, do not choose her over me. I have lost all, I cannot lose you too.”

Whatever was left of his heart shattered as he found his eye glassy, blurring with the same salted tears as hers.

He suddenly pulled her close, his hand smoothing down the back of her head to bring her to his chest. Horrible sobs racked through her body causing her shoulders to quake as his hands desperately tried to soothe her. “Never, my love.”

~*~

“I sent the whore away.” Aemond walked with purpose, coming to stand before his wife who was seated at a table with a steaming cup of tea. His fingers were latched behind his back.

It was two days until his battle was set to take place.

A slight nod was given, gradually turning into a full one as his wife placed her cup down onto the table. “That’s… good. That is good.”

Bile still rose in her throat every time she thought of the woman. Older and more mature than she, Alys Rivers was her name. A common bedwhore from Harrenhal was her occupation and she bore no name of any relevance as she was a bastard. What had been so enticing about her that he would break his sacred vow?

“Your happiness in the situation is lost on me.” The seat across from her was filled with Aemond’s presence as he quickly filled the empty space.

“No.” She interjected. “I am very happy. Truly.”

The storm of emotion in her features said otherwise.

“But something still ails you.”

She got lost in the plumes of steam that rose from her cup, floating into the stagnant air as if being pulled up by strings. “It is nothing. A simple insecurity, not a problem to breathe life into any longer.”

“It is my infidelity, is it not?”

Looking like a child who had been caught out of bed, she folded her hands in her lap and stared at her husband.

“She is a witch.” Aemond stated as if it were a common thing. “She has visions; she sees things in the clouds and flames. I cannot explain it. She used potions to cause my eye to wander.” Holding his wife’s gaze, he slumped his shoulders and let his back arch to rest his forearms on his thighs. “I should have been stronger. I should have seen through that witch-” he grew angrier but she was not sure if it was in truth, “that whore’s facade. I should not have let myself cause you, my beautiful wife, any pain.”

His head slipped into his palms, forehead cradled and fingers tangled in his platinum locks.

“How am I to know your words hold truth?” She watched as Aemond shook his head.

“It was a lapse in my rational judgment. I will always return to you, my love.” In a low strained tone he breathed his words. “She means nothing to me.” But his unwillingness to use her name, Alys, made her doubt his statement.

It did not take long for his wife to thrust herself from her seated position and move to kneel at his side. Her dress collected dust as she lowered herself to peer beneath the curtain of hair that blocked his face.

“She is not our problem now.” Assuring words were what his wife needed to hear, not him. But she could not resist the way he pulled at her heartstrings. “We will move forward together. The war will end and we can find peace in our lives. I am still young, we will find a way to bring healthy children into our lives.”

Conflict, she found, was not a flattering color to bathe in. There was nary a time that the Targaryen dynasty did not partake in one form of insanity or another. It was written in their fates to continually live in turmoil. Even those that tried to keep peace sprouted seeds of distress in their descendants or amongst their people.

Aemond and the princess were no exceptions.

They had wed hastily but were able to get through the evening without a duel or death. Viserys II’s health was failing him. Though able to walk still, he struggled in his everyday life. The princess was sent from Dragonstone to Kings Landing where she had a quick ceremony that her direct family did not attend. This attributed to her feelings for her husband. She found comfort in his presence. He was there when others were not.

Her life felt as if it were out of her control. From the moment she was brought into her cruel world others were planning her future and she was locked in her gilded cage. With Aemond, she felt like she was in control. Though the truth in that could be debatable.

They laid together that night for the first time in many and possibly the last. Memories of brighter times had been shared as they basked in the afterglow, lit by only the moon. He had more scars than she remembered. While still lean and pale, cuts of bright pink and burnt auburn were spliced across his torso. Distinct claw marks were marred into his shoulder blades, reminders of his infidelity.

It was almost as if they could talk to her as she counted them in the moonlight. Aemond had turned in his sleep, his back to her. Displayed like an open canvas, she couldn’t help but find her mind shrouded by hurt and anger again as the name burst into her ears. Alys Rivers, the whore, the bedmate, the bastard, and the woman who caught her husband’s wandering eye. She cringed as she tried to picture her. Surely she at least had wrinkles. There had to be a flaw to her appearance. As hard as the princess tried, she could only picture a woman of beauty.

Lost in her insecurities, she had not noticed that Aemond had turned over and now studied his wife’s face as it twisted and contorted. He knew what was troubling her. Instead of lying, telling her that Alys was a horrid woman, he said nothing and took her into his arms. Crushing her in his embrace, he held her like it would be the last time he could. He memorized her shape, her smell, her warmth and her love. His eyes closed and he rested his chin atop her head.

“I love you.” He whispered into the night, unsure if she heard him or not as her chest rose and fell like a metronome keeping a beat. “I love you.” He repeated, holding her tight as he willed himself to sleep knowing what was to come the next day.

~~~*~~~

“Stay.”

Her hand caught his as he made his way toward Vhaegar, dressed in his charcoal armor. The helm was down, concealing his face within.

“Aemond, please.”

The full grasp on his wrist halted him in his tracks. The beast let out a low grumble, growing impatient as its rider stood motionless on the cliff side. A gentle breeze blew in, bringing with it salted air that watered her tongue.

“I will return.” Assurance in the face of death was just words on the breeze, taken far away before they could drop like seedlings and plant themselves in her mind.

“Whole and alive with a beating heart or in memory?”

His hand, though covered in a thick leather glove, came to rest upon her cheek. The other pulled the visor of his shining helm up to reveal his contrasting eyes. “Do you doubt my abilities, my love?”

“Not for one moment.”

His palm pressed against her cheek, lingering longer than he intended as she leaned into his touch. Lashes fanned across her skin, fluttering softly as her lips pressed into a fine line, holding back whatever emotion was within.

“I will return. I vowed to protect you, until my very last day. That day will not be today.” Though he could not press his lips to hers, he drew her in close, holding her firmly against him. “Wait by the ocean until the sun dips below the horizon. I will be here by your side the moment the world is cast into darkness.” He held her back, staring deeply into her eyes. “I promise, my love. I will return.”

She cried as he turned and mounted Vhaegar. Tears streamed from her reddened eyes as he waved her off with another proclamation of his return. Even the frightful blasts of warm summer air could not dissuade the constant river that bled onto her cheeks.

It was late when her sobs ceased and the whisper of prayer died on her lips. The protective light of the day had fled from the sky leaving her cast in darkness and broken promises. Her knees had formed deep grooves in the fine sand where they landed hours before. Fists full of earth could not move the clock backward. Aemond was lost to the wind.

Grief kept her going in the deep midnight hours as she gazed into the distance where Westeros lied. Every speck in the sky had her heart beating faster than before. Each turned out to be nothing. It was only when the morning came and the world continued forward that she moved from her spot. The tide had brought water in around her thighs, soaking her dress through.

She ached like nothing else in the following days. It was as if she could feel every wound her husband had endured. Her dreams were haunted all the same. Blue eyes stared at her through the misty haze that rolled in. Aemond filled her thoughts. At night, she could see him in the darkness looming in the corner of her room.

Word of his death eventually made it to Dragonstone. Mention of his Alys occupying Harrenhal was floated by the guards. How he had brought her to the battle, kissed her passionately, and died in the skies only posed as daggers thrust into her heart.

It wasn’t until years later that Aemond returned to Dragonstone, to his wife. Though, she did not greet him on the beach. She met him in the crypts, sealed away in stone tombs left to collect dust.

She had died of a chill in 133 AC, taking her final breaths on that same sandy beach.

Although not by his doings, he had kept his promise. Brought back in a box of black and red sealed tight with dark metal, Aemond was laid to rest at his wife’s side.

I will return.

[wonyowonyo]

Realize (J. Wonyoung X M! Reader)

Hello, Wonyo_Wonyo here. I've came back from the depths of the pitiful reality, and returned with a new oneshot. Kinda lost my touch though, but I hope you all enjoy this one.I'll probably try to drop more stories soon, If I get the motivation to do it. Feel free to drop some suggestions too.

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3RD PERSON POV

Y/N had always been captivated by Wonyoung. Her elegance, her wit, the way she carried herself—it was all mesmerizing. From the moment he first saw her at the university's annual charity gala, he knew he had to get to know her better. She was wearing a stunning silver dress that made her stand out from the crowd, her long, dark hair cascading down her back in soft waves. She moved with a grace and confidence that drew everyone's attention, but it was the kindness in her eyes when she spoke to others that truly caught Y/N's heart.

The first time they spoke was during one of their shared classes. Y/N mustered up the courage to approach her after a particularly challenging lecture on quantum mechanics. As he gathered his books and steeled himself for rejection, he noticed Wonyoung struggling to fit her notes into her already overflowing bag. He saw his chance and seized it.

"Hey, do you need some help with that?" Y/N asked, offering her a friendly smile.

Wonyoung looked up, surprise flashing in her eyes before she returned his smile. "Oh, thank you. That would be great. My bag seems to have a mind of its own."

Y/N chuckled and helped her organize her things. As they walked out of the lecture hall together, they found themselves engaged in a lively conversation about the class. Wonyoung was not only beautiful but also incredibly intelligent. She had a way of explaining complex concepts that made them seem almost simple.

"Quantum mechanics is a nightmare," Y/N said, shaking his head. "I don't know how you make it look so easy."

Wonyoung laughed, a light, melodic sound. "It's not easy, trust me. I just enjoy the challenge."

From that day on, Y/N made it a point to be around her as much as possible. He offered to study together, grabbed coffee after classes, and even joined the same student clubs. Wonyoung seemed to enjoy his company, always smiling when she saw him and engaging in their conversations with genuine interest.

However, every time Y/N tried to take things to the next level, she would pull back just enough to keep him at arm's length. She would thank him for the flowers he sent with a sweet message but never agree to a date. He'd ask her out, and she'd say she was busy but then give him a lingering look that kept his hopes up. It was a dance that went on for months, with Y/N pouring his heart into every gesture and Wonyoung playing hard to get.

One particularly frustrating evening, Y/N decided to make a grand gesture. He had learned that Wonyoung loved classical music, so he managed to get two tickets to a highly sought-after concert in town. Nervously, he approached her after class.

"Wonyoung, I know you're busy, but I got us tickets to the Philharmonic concert this Friday. I thought it would be something you'd enjoy," Y/N said, hope shining in his eyes.

Wonyoung's expression softened, and for a moment, Y/N thought she would say yes. But then, her smile faltered. "Oh, Y/N, that's so sweet of you, but I already have plans with some friends. I'm really sorry."

Y/N's heart sank. "No worries. Maybe another time?"

"Maybe," Wonyoung replied, her tone unconvincing.

Y/N's initial attempts to win Wonyoung's heart were met with mixed signals that left him in a constant state of hope and frustration. He decided to take a more direct approach and invited her to a popular café on campus known for its cozy atmosphere and delicious pastries.

"Wonyoung, I was thinking we could grab some coffee after class. There's a new café that opened up, and I hear their pastries are amazing," Y/N suggested, his voice filled with optimism.

Wonyoung's eyes twinkled with interest, but her response was hesitant. "That sounds nice, but I already have plans with my study group. Maybe another time?"

Y/N's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Sure, another time then."

Despite the setbacks, Y/N refused to give up. He learned that Wonyoung loved literature, so he spent hours in the library researching her favorite authors and genres. One day, he surprised her with a beautifully bound copy of a classic novel she had mentioned in passing.

"I thought you might like this," Y/N said, handing her the book.

Wonyoung's eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Oh my gosh, Y/N, this is one of my favorites! Thank you so much!"

Her genuine appreciation gave Y/N a glimmer of hope, but as soon as he tried to suggest they read it together, she quickly changed the subject.

"Maybe we can discuss it over coffee?" Y/N ventured.

Wonyoung's smile turned apologetic. "I'd love to, but I have a meeting with my project group. How about a rain check?"

Y/N's heart sank, but he nodded. "Of course, a rain check."

As weeks turned into months, Y/N's efforts intensified. He attended every event she mentioned, from art exhibitions to charity runs. He even signed up for a cooking class she was taking, hoping to spend more time with her.

During the cooking class, they worked side by side, preparing a complex dish together. Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment as they created something delicious together.

"This is really fun, Y/N," Wonyoung said, her eyes sparkling as they tasted their creation.

Y/N smiled, his heart swelling with joy. "It is. Maybe we could cook together more often?"

Wonyoung's expression turned thoughtful. "Maybe. We'll see."

Despite the fleeting moments of connection, Wonyoung continued to keep Y/N at a distance. He found himself questioning his every move, wondering if he was doing something wrong or if she simply wasn't interested.

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One evening, after another unsuccessful attempt to ask her out, Y/N found himself sitting alone in the campus garden, his heart heavy with doubt. His best friend, Sungjae, found him there and sat down beside him.

"Hey, man. You look like you could use a friend," Sungjae said, his tone sympathetic.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do, Sungjae. I've tried everything to show Wonyoung how much I care about her, but she keeps pulling away."

Sungjae patted his shoulder. "Maybe she just needs more time. Or maybe she's scared to let someone in."

Y/N nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at him. "I just wish I knew how she really felt."

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Despite her mixed signals, Y/N persisted. He attended every event she mentioned she was interested in, made sure to remember the little things she liked, and always tried to be there for her when she needed someone to talk to. But eventually, the constant back-and-forth took its toll. He was tired of the uncertainty, the feeling that he was always one step behind. So, one day, he decided to stop. He stopped sending flowers, stopped asking her out, stopped trying to win her over. It was time to move on.

Wonyoung noticed the change immediately. At first, she thought it was a phase, that he'd bounce back with renewed determination. But as days turned into weeks, the realization hit her—she missed him. She missed his efforts, his thoughtfulness, the way he made her feel special. The absence of his attention left a void she hadn't anticipated.

One evening, as Y/N was packing up his things at the end of a long day, Wonyoung appeared. She looked different—nervous, unsure. It was a stark contrast to her usual confident self.

"Can we talk?" she asked softly.

Y/N nodded, motioning for her to sit down. She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his with a vulnerability he hadn't seen before.

"I've been thinking a lot," she began. "About us, about everything you've done for me. I guess I didn't realize how much it meant to me until you stopped."

Y/N listened, his heart pounding. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, but now that it was here, he felt a mix of emotions.

"I was scared," she admitted. "Scared of how much I was starting to care about you. But now, I know that I don't want to lose you."

Y/N took her hand in his, a smile spreading across his face. "Wonyoung, I've always been here. I'm glad you finally realized what you want."

She squeezed his hand, a look of determination in her eyes. "I do. And if you're still willing, I want to give us a real chance."

Y/N nodded, the joy in his heart undeniable. "I've always been willing."

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The following weeks were a whirlwind of new experiences and deeper connections. Wonyoung, true to her word, was committed to making things work between them. She made an effort to spend more time with Y/N, to open up about her fears and dreams, and to show him how much she appreciated everything he had done for her.

One weekend, Wonyoung suggested a trip to the countryside. It was a spontaneous idea, something she had always wanted to do but never found the right moment for. Y/N agreed, eager to explore new places with her and create lasting memories.

The drive to the countryside was filled with laughter and music. Wonyoung sang along to her favorite songs, her voice filling the car with warmth. Y/N couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of contentment he hadn't felt in a long time. As they drove through winding roads surrounded by lush greenery, he realized how much he had grown to love her.

When they arrived at their destination, a charming bed-and-breakfast nestled in a picturesque village, Wonyoung's excitement was contagious. They spent the days exploring the village, hiking through scenic trails, and enjoying each other's company. In the evenings, they sat by the fireplace, sharing stories and dreams.

One night, as they both lay on a blanket under the starry sky, Wonyoung turned to Y/N, her eyes reflecting the moonlight.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" Y/N asked, turning to face her.

"For not giving up on me," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "For being patient, for caring so much. I never realized how lucky I was until now."

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Y/N reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I never gave up because I believed in us. And I'm glad you do too now."

Wonyoung smiled, leaning in to kiss him. It was a gentle, tender kiss, filled with promises of a future together. In that moment, Y/N knew that everything he had gone through was worth it. The chase, the uncertainty, the heartache—it all led to this beautiful realization.

As he held her in his arms, he felt a sense of peace and happiness. He had finally found what he was looking for, and it was more than he had ever imagined.

Back at university, their relationship continued to grow. They became the couple everyone admired, not because of grand gestures, but because of the genuine love and respect they had for each other. They supported each other's goals, celebrated each other's successes, and comforted each other during difficult times.

Wonyoung's friends noticed the change in her. She seemed happier, more at ease. They saw how much she cared about Y/N, how she went out of her way to make him feel loved. It wasn't just the little gifts or the surprise visits; it was the way she looked at him, the way she spoke about him. It was clear to everyone that she had fallen deeply in love with him.

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One day, as they were walking together on campus, Wonyoung stopped and turned to Y/N. There was a seriousness in her eyes that made his heart skip a beat.

"There's something I need to tell you," she said, taking a deep breath.

Y/N nodded, his curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

Wonyoung hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I've been offered an internship abroad. It's an incredible opportunity, but it means I'll be away for a year."

Y/N's heart sank at the thought of being apart from her for so long. He knew how important this internship was for her career, but the idea of not seeing her every day was painful.

"I don't want to leave you," she continued, her voice trembling. "But this is something I've worked so hard for. I don't know what to do."

Y/N took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Wonyoung, this is your dream. You have to go. We'll make it work, no matter what. I believe in us."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she hugged him tightly. "I don't deserve you," she whispered.

"You deserve everything, Wonyoung," he replied, holding her close. "And I'll be right here, waiting for you."

The months that followed were challenging, but Y/N and Wonyoung found ways to stay connected. They talked every day,

sharing their experiences and supporting each other from afar. The distance was hard, but it also made them appreciate each other even more.

Wonyoung thrived in her internship, gaining valuable experience and making important connections. She often spoke about how much she missed Y/N, but she also expressed how grateful she was for his unwavering support.

As the year drew to a close, they both counted down the days until they would be reunited. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but it also filled them with excitement. Y/N planned a special celebration for her return, wanting to show her just how much he had missed her.

When the day finally arrived, Y/N stood at the airport, his heart pounding with anticipation. As soon as he saw Wonyoung walking towards him, all the months of separation melted away. She ran into his arms, and he held her tightly, never wanting to let go.

"I'm home," she whispered, tears of joy streaming down her face.

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"Welcome home," he replied, kissing her softly. "I've missed you so much."

The experiences they both had during that year apart strengthened their bond even further. They realized that love wasn't just about being together all the time, but about supporting each other's dreams and growing together, even when apart.

Wonyoung's return brought a renewed sense of purpose and excitement to their relationship. They made a promise to each other to never take their time together for granted and to cherish every moment they had. The weeks following her return were filled with joyful reunions, long conversations, and a deepening of their connection.

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One evening, Y/N and Wonyoung found themselves sitting on a park bench, the sunset casting a warm glow over them. Wonyoung rested her head on Y/N's shoulder, a contented smile on her face.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Y/N asked, his voice soft.

Wonyoung nodded, her eyes closed. "Of course, I do. It was at the charity gala. You were so nervous when you approached me."

Y/N chuckled, reminiscing. "I was terrified. But I knew I had to talk to you. There was something about you that just drew me in."

Wonyoung looked up at him, her eyes filled with affection. "I'm glad you did. You changed my life, Y/N."

"You changed mine too," Y/N replied, kissing her forehead.

As the months went by, Y/N and Wonyoung continued to support each other's aspirations. They attended each other's events, celebrated milestones, and were there for each other during challenges. Their relationship was built on a foundation of trust, respect, and a deep understanding of one another.

One day, Y/N received an exciting opportunity. A renowned research institution offered him a position to lead a groundbreaking project. It was a dream come true, but it also meant he would have to move to another city for a year. When he shared the news with Wonyoung, he saw a mix of emotions in her eyes—pride, excitement, and a hint of sadness.

"This is an incredible opportunity, Y/N," Wonyoung said, her voice steady. "You have to take it. It's your dream."

Y/N took her hands in his, searching her eyes. "But what about us? I don't want to be away from you again."

Wonyoung smiled, her eyes shining with determination. "We've done this before, and we can do it again. We both have dreams to chase, and we'll always find our way back to each other."

Her words filled Y/N with hope and reassurance. They had faced challenges before and come out stronger. He knew that with Wonyoung by his side, they could overcome anything.

As Y/N prepared for his move, they made a promise to stay connected and support each other through this new chapter of their lives. They spent their remaining days together creating memories, exploring new places, and deepening their bond. They knew that distance could never weaken their love.

The night before Y/N's departure, they sat on the rooftop of their favorite building, looking out at the city lights. Wonyoung leaned into him, her head resting on his chest.

"Promise me something," she said softly.

"Anything," Y/N replied, holding her close.

"Promise me that no matter where life takes us, we'll always find our way back to each other," Wonyoung whispered.

Y/N kissed the top of her head, his heart swelling with love. "I promise. Always."

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The year apart was challenging, but Y/N and Wonyoung stayed true to their promise. They talked every day, sharing their successes and supporting each other through the tough times. The distance only strengthened their love and commitment.

Y/N's project was a resounding success, and he returned with a sense of accomplishment and excitement for the future. Wonyoung greeted him at the airport, her smile brighter than ever. They embraced, tears of joy streaming down their faces.

"I'm so proud of you," Wonyoung said, her voice filled with emotion.

"I'm proud of us," Y/N replied, holding her tightly.

Their love story was one of perseverance, trust, and unwavering support. They had faced challenges and come out stronger, their bond unbreakable. Together, they knew they could achieve anything.

As they walked hand in hand out of the airport, ready to face whatever the future held, they knew one thing for certain—no matter where life took them, they would always find their way back to each other. Their love was a journey, and they were ready to embrace every moment of it, together.

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[cowgirlcherrie]

𓏲 APPLE OF MY EYE ᵎᵎ secret admirer! abby anderson

synopsis: love is a free spirit; crushing is even harder. It all started with a special delivery of anonymous treats at your door. While you were yearning that it would be your best friend sending them to you.

song(s): apple cider by beabadoobee

*LYRICS ARE BOLDED

content: takes place in game universe. follows the events leading up to seattle day 1. violence. death. repetitive mentions of apples; eating them, imagery etc. mutual pinning. implied character death by end. blood. right person, wrong time. missed connection. kinda implied fem! reader. Joel death mention. death foreshadowing. intuitive knowledge of death. Closely follows the song.

WE BOTH LIKE APPLE CIDER

Crush and Crunch.

Crunching with your crush. 

It all sounded the same to you, the cracking of your vocal cords at the back of your throat pushing at enunciating every syllable in crush sounding like crunch; which were your teeth poking into an apple every Tuesday. Shiny Granny Smiths, on Tuesdays, Honeycrisps on Wednesdays, and Fuji on Fridays. 

You weren’t sure when the kitchen started getting apple deliveries; perhaps the never-ending garden of trees grown them with the perfect analytics to make sure they weren’t poisonous or synthetic apples but you weren’t complaining. The first time you tried an apple sounded ridiculous to say. Your first ever. You took the finely cut slice; detached from its core to your mouth, groaning in satisfaction as the flavors mixed together in your mouth like a rollercoaster. Juicy and bitter with a tinge of sweetness.  Just how you liked it.

Abby said they were even better with cinnamon. Rambling on about how sugar and spice equate to everything nice and the best finger-licking of your dreams. On apple days, during breakfast you found yourself sitting at a secluded table with Abby in front of you slicing the apples so they were easier to consume. Shared amongst the two of you as your hands reached for the same slices; Abby pulled her hand away to let you have the last. 

BUT YOUR HAIR BE SMELLING LIKE FRUIT PUNCH

You enjoyed these bittersweet moments; like the apples of course. The sun beamed on Abby’s face in marigold and marmalade, as her blonde locks blew in the air slightly disheveled from when she went on patrol that day. Her fresh scent of pine, and fruit blend from her hair which was refreshing and comforting you. She took a final bite before flipping the knife down to take it back to the utensil bin for washing. Where then the two of you would part ways. It was never awkward. Eating apples in silence; you mean — because Abby had a schedule more vigorous and deathly than yours and you had other businesses to attend to. But she never would miss out on an Apple time with you. 

AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE YOU THAT MUCH

You’ve grown suspicious in recent meters. You weren’t one to talk about love either but it somehow found some way to bite back at you like the juices of the apple splattering on your lips when you would eat them.

WAIT, I DO, FUCK.

It started with suspicious packages revealing themselves outside of your door, wrapped in a delicate ribbon, with a brown paper box tied off with the most absurd cursive handwriting that you could hardly read. But somehow making out, the delicate notion of

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Xoxo, eyes from afar.

CALL ME, AT MIDNIGHT.

So as anyone else would, at midnight, you stomped your way to Abby’s door pounding your fist into the wood until she slammed it open looking at you in bewilderment. Toothbrush in between her lips scratching her teeth; scrubbing away at any build-up as she watched you. Notioning with her hands for you to speak. She looked carefree, laidback her hair was down and she looked as though she freshly showered. 

“Thanks for the gift” you smirk, holding up the box with randomized love and self-care books with an intact nail polish set that was on top. It was a variety pack, swishes of different shades of pink and white, and even nudes to go for a clear coat; like a puff of cotton candy.

You were flattered, naturally, it was a sweet gift like a candy cane in the sweet summer breeze you wanted to just rip it out of the packaging and have a go. You also never had someone be so considerate of you. Thinking to bring you back something so pure and valuable that surely wouldn’t collect dust but you would bring out every month. You would make sure it wasn’t forgotten.

Abby furrowed her eyebrows, holding up her pointer finger motioning – one minute, running to the sink and spitting out the toothpaste rinsing her mouth off. 

“I didn’t give you that.” Abby specified, taking a washcloth to wipe at her hands and around her mouth as she let you inside.

“C’mon Abs, even if you did that’s—”

“I didn’t give that to you.” Abby’s voice was more serious this time, stern and strict with some urgency. Not that she was being rude about it, but she was trying to get you off her case. After a long day of patrolling where she did find goodies you would like along with some ribbons from a craft store along the way, Abby got to work making you a sweet delivery. After all, you deserved it. 

“But who else would know I like apples besides you!”

“Manny, Mel, Nora, Ow–”

“Okay I didn’t ask for names.” You hushed, fiddling with the box in your hand as you looked at the treats inside. Biting at your lips, it was like being given a hug but the person who gave it to you disappeared before you can offer one better, or even fully wrap your arms around them to give one back.

“This was really sweet I just wish I could give something back.” You mumbled, tilting your head down to look at the books yearningly. Amidst the violence, the blood, and the chaos, you still loved and that was what pushed you forward. That was what erupted a fire in you; triggering your passion and jumpstarting your heart like cables to a car. 

“I think you shouldn’t worry about it,” Abby suggested, not looking at you but folding her laundry to put away for safekeeping.

“What?” 

“What.” Abby shot back, acting as if she didn’t say anything prior, but you heard her well. Your friend, heart, and soul were being shifty with you; acting as if she didn’t care about your treats or that you were being admired from afar by someone with a sweet gentle heart. 

“Nevermind I’m being silly” You confessed, taking your words back and turning on your heels to leave her room.

Abby wasn’t going to let you leave. Lips parted as she watched your feet get closer and closer to the exit of the door.

LETS GIVE, THIS, THING A TRY.

“Show me.” 

You stopped walking, turning around slowly on your heels. Part of you wished it was Abby, though she would never really know. You watched the way she looked at Owen with appreciation but also disgust. How her love turned to hatred and pain. Abby wasn’t focused on you, you would think.

Abby wasn’t focused on you.

“What?”

“I said show me,” Abby confessed, her voice as clear as day, “C’mere…” Abby patted the side of her bed where she sat comfortably. 

“G‘head tell me about it. I wanna see it too” Abby gave a smile. Truth is, behind her push n’ pull —  rigid love and aggression she still hoped for you. Amidst her passive-aggressiveness, she was giving the love she felt as though she would never feel again. The permanent hole in her heart that you kept on refiling and you didn’t even know. 

She didn’t want you to slip through the cracks of her fingers just yet. Hiding behind a mask, cowardly shying herself away from you. Owen wasn’t on her mind but having you think that especially as she set off on a spree for the man who killed Jerry, would fix that. You were a liability, she wouldn’t let you go. 

You made your way down the steps, to her bed tucked in the corner nook, sitting down as you opened the package. With that you started rambling, tossing the paper apart like a kid on Christmas, showing Abby the hardcover copies with a dopey smiley on your face. Abby couldn’t contain her own smile either. Watching as you went through each nail polish shade.

“Can I try these on you?” You held up a baby pink, it was in a ballet slipper shade, which would make a good neutral against her bright skin. 

Abby wasn’t going to resist, shrugging up her shoulders against her black long-sleeve shirt, pushing the shirt up on her arms, “Sure”

So you proceeded further with painting her nails that evening, toxic paint brushing on her fingers like a canvas —  while the two of you whisked away in laughter. It was like a red string wrapped around the two of your fingers, webbing you together and pulling you closer and closer until there was no gaps or lack of air. 

It was pure and for the moment you really valued it. What you didn’t know you had until it was gone. You wished you could have hugged her a little bit longer, and learned more about her besides what she was showing you at a service level. You wanted to know Abigail, not Abby. Before it was snatched away from you with the snap of the fingers. Get the gunpowder dust off the sea salt it was time for war. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

YOU SAID YOU LIKED MY HAIR, SO GO AHEAD AND TOUCH IT.

I like your hair today, and your necklace  xoxo, eyes from afar

Maybe it was the validation or the comments but you loved receiving the little notes wrapped in different color ribbons. Maybe you were looking forward to catching your second set of eyes. Lingering outside your door to see if they would show but it was always as if they knew your schedule. Catering to the perfect moments that you were gone to slip the delight at your door. 

The note of this week – bringing joyous to your being made you wear the delicate jewelry even more. At first, when you wore it, it was just a careless decision that you did for fun. Spontaneous and last minute as you untangled it in between your fingertips pulling out the birthstone necklace that was gifted to you from no other than Abby herself; weeks before the arrival of your secret admirer. But the moment you remembered, clasping it on around your neck was the moment you truly valued it even more. You were certainly never going to take it off. 

YOU SAID YOU LIKED THE JUMPER I WORE, SO I ALWAYS WORE IT.

But your bright radiating aura, evidently in hues of pink and purple; signs of love and wisdom was shortly dimmed by the chatter during your afternoon meal. You were set to follow Jordan to the Serevena, patrolling being the last thing you wanted to do of the evening. Endless pit in your stomach nothing felt right. The snap before everything fell apart. 

Out for blood, out for vengeance was Abigail Anderson who returned with blood on her hands. Murderer!Murderer! Red-handed girl with fury in her eyes and a golf club sharp at the end splattering everything into two. 

Wrecking havoc; causing destruction. 

That was all you heard from Jordan as you chewed through the same-old burrito that evening. That was enough to make your eardrums bleed. You could feel your heart in your ears jumping out of your chest at the whispers of Abby’s name, eyes darting from table to table to hear if anyone had caught wind of such a subject: 

I heard she… 

Can’t imagine that…

That’s terrifying…

No Abby mention.

Coincidentally amongst Abby’s absence; the snarky girl was gone with the wind, and so was your secret admirer. The deliveries stopped coming, you were alone, with a set of eyes ‘watching you’ and apples to now peel on your own. . . you found it odd, but one thing for sure was that Abby would hear from you later, where you would gush about this admirer of yours and what you imagined them to be.

IT’S REALLY NICE TO TALK TO YOU, IT’S REALLY NICE TO HOLD YOUR HAND

“Abs on a scale of 1-10 how attractive do you think my admirer is” You pondered, hands entangled in the pages of a fashion magazine. Fingers dusting away at the thin layer of grime and grey from the dust and dirt; signs of age.

“Probably like a 3” Abby confessed bluntly as she walked around her room moving vastly to pack away her belongings. 

Abby’s side of her room was neater in comparison to Manny’s, her laundry was folded, memories stored away for safekeeping, and everything was where it needed to be. Including your ribbon and the scissors she used — the bad duct tape she stole for security. 

“Really?”

“Okay, maybe a 5, it could well off be a creep,” Abby muttered as she continued to push different survival items into her bag, jacket first, followed by flashlights and extra batteries. 

“I don’t think it is though,” Abby froze, panicking instilling in her, it was like a vicious game of hot and cold, you creeping closer and closer to her and it was time for Abby to fall back and bring on the passiveness. 

“What?”

“I mean imagine this, they send me a final letter asking me to meet by the gardens where they reveal their identity to be no other than —”

“Save that for a fantasy, I’m leaving” Abby spat, cutting the happiness in the air with a thick knife which was her voice that evening. It felt like a safety net for her to drop off bad news right after you gave the good ones, almost debunking it creating a hostile environment, and shattering the rose-tinted glasses off. Then you remembered who you were talking to, what you were doing. A flower in the middle of an apocalypse, Abby being covered in thorns. 

“Is it because you killed that man”

“What makes you think it’s…who told you?” Abby furrowed her eyebrows stopping her movement to let you get a good look at her face.  Abby was looking you up and down like you ripped the bandaid off her arm like you were digging your fingers into a cut infecting it with your fingertips and any active bacteria. 

“Word travels around here pretty fast, this isn’t knew information”

A beat. And then another.

“Are you satisfied” You perk up, not breaking eye contact with the blonde in front of you. The fresh azul orbs dilating under the words that left your mouth. She looked at you with such admiration, but the mention of Jerry was enough to make Abby swing hard as she was back in the room holding her weapon of choice. Who was she to play god? Be the bearer of death? Call of evil? Abby thought back to what she was fighting for: was she satisfied? It wouldn’t bring her father back but there was a price on her head. Preferably until her life was obliterated and gone with her head. 

“Hmm”

“Because you don’t look satisfied” Your voice cracked, you were cutting into her skin and Abby was growing steadily uncomfortable, shifting her weight. Cracking her knuckles and rolling her head as she looked at you. Like a pretty Jem stone in a dimly lit room; all eyes on you she didn’t want to talk about this with you. Someone she was so emotionally connected with, god — anybody else but you.

“I…I need to go.” Abby stood up, swinging her backpack in her arms as you followed suit in the silence.

You stood up mimicking her actions taking your magazine in between your fingers and holding it close to your chest. 

“When will you be back?” you whispered, picking at the skin surrounding your nails as you rubbed your lips against each other as you rocked your body forward and backward. Abby’s eyes softened, looking at you up and down as she stuck her tongue in her cheek, clenching her jaw tightly. It almost pained her to say. 

AND EVEN IF WE’RE JUST FRIENDS, WE CAN BE, MORE THAN THAT.

“Soon…I hope, I’ll be back soon” Abby asserted. Abby bowed her head, cusping your cheeks in between her hands as she gave a chaste kiss to your cheek. Calloused fingers rubbing at your soft skin, It was a friendly thing, right? Nothing more?

She didn’t even like you that much.

But you on the other hand weren’t sure of your own feelings.

Like a tough game of tug-of-war, you wanted her, then you didn’t, then you couldn’t shake yourself out of it. You liked her and you wanted her. You wished and hoped that the admirer of yours would be her. The person you had sleepovers where you would laugh about your events and enjoy the delicacies delivered by your admirer you would have it no other way.

When she pulled away you struggled to find the words, hands jittery somewhere between reaching to grab your cheek or to wipe off her kiss with your hand. You weren’t sure how to feel. It was as if someone held a gun to your head telling you the right pill or blue.  

“May your survival be long” you reminded, holding a hand at your arm scratching at your sleeves.

“May your death be swift” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

CALL ME AT MIDNIGHT, LETS GIVE THIS THING A TRY.

If you could do it all again you would. 

ASK YOU IF ITS OKAY,

You were alone, deep into your ocean of thoughts as your happy moments were coming to an end? Did you take it for granted? 

TO HAVE A SLEEPOVER,

The burrito you ate that evening wanting to come up, mouth sticky with bile. You suddenly didn’t want to patrol the Serevena and help Nora move supplies. It felt wrong – almost impractical like you were in the wrong place. Foot cemented into the floor as you stood at your bed. Shoving supplies into your backpack, tying a strand of the ribbon from your admirer's box around the handle of your bag. You wanted to be back at the base with Abby where the two of you would have your sleepovers, cut your apples, and have competitive matches in the shooting range where you would tell Abby she missed a shot and she would tell you, you held the gun wrong. 

Preparing to leave, doing one final spin at your place of comfort. Freshly made bed and sorrowful grey sheets, you wished for a happier time and a great release. Opening your door, you were met with one box before you would go. Picking up the lightweight box it almost felt impractical to even be wrapped. 

TO DRINK SOME APPLE CIDER, OR MAYBE SOME FRUIT PUNCH

Parting gift for the one I stole these for… don’t forget me Xoxo, A. Anderson Your eyes always 

You smiled to yourself, it was all you ever wanted. Your best friend really was your admirer and you just hoped you could reach her before she was gone and it truly could have been your last time seeing her. Unwrapping the terribly wrapped paper object revealed a shiny sharpened knife with a brown handle. It was Abby’s knife, the one she savored and used only for your apples that she would cut during your lunch breaks. Tears brimmed your eyes moving the object around as if it were malleable, smiling gently to yourself at the irony of it all. Quickly locking the door and throwing the paper that was used to wrap the gift away in the hall trash you ran to try to catch Abby who was already on the truck, across from Mel as she set off on her journey. As the sun was getting low, so were you who had to travel adjacent from your new fount lover. 

What were you gonna say?

Besides: I knew it, of course, you wanted her to know that you felt the same; in fact even more.

AND WE CAN TALK ABOUT HOW WE DON’T LIKE EACH OTHER THAT MUCH.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

“There’s no real you are real right now”

“Shh– baby, I’m real” Abby hushed bringing up her hand to your mouth to silence you. “I’m real.”

You were currently carrying a tray of med supplies but soon it all crashed to the ground; metal tin hitting the floor as Abby backed away into a corner. She looked disheveled different than you had last seen her; whispies around her face. Like she cared a little bit more, but maybe it was because she was with you. 

You couldn’t help but bring Abby into a tight hug head against her shoulder, resting your eyes in full solitude. You were home amidst the violence and her going AWOL that had made Isaac angry with all of you. You lied thickly through your teeth when Isaac dragged you in asking questions about the location and conspiration Abby had going on.

All you could say was you didn’t know.

And it wasn’t a lie but in fact the truth there was not much you really did know. 

Abby held onto you as if you were going to be snatched out of her hands as the both of you cried. Sobbs shaking the both of you. Abby couldn’t stop herself from applying gentle kisses to the side of your head and holding at the nape of your neck during the hug.

“You look like shit!” you acknowledged pulling at the sleeve of her jacket to which Abby rolled her eyes and pulled your hand away.

“Ahh could be worse”

A beat. And another; comfortable silence filling the air between the two of you. You didn’t wanna ask but for your newfound knowledge, you had no other choice but to. You wanted her to know, hell you haven’t seen her for very long and this well could have been the last time you would ever. 

“So it was you? All along” you sputtered, snickering under your breath as you brought your hands across your chest, licking the base of your lips as your eyes wandered off.

“It was – hey! You opened the letters” Abby gave you a look of disbelief, half of it was due to her being scared shitless, others it was the fact that Abby could feel her own hands getting clammy as she rubbed them against the base of her jeans to get it to stop.

“It said 2 —”

“Weeks I know” “I was desperate”

There was silence again. 

“I could just kiss you right now I can’t believe you are alive” You blurted out, giving Abby the most gentle smile. Abby for a second felt her world move in slow motion as she stared with such unconditional love. 

“Then do it”

So you did, rushing forward, throwing your body against Abby’s as the two of you leaned in for a swift kiss. Her lips were chapped, slightly rugged but you didn’t mind applying your smooth ones to her as the movements of your body synched together in eternal sunshine. Nothing in this moment mattered, besides her lips on yours and her hands against your body. Abby’s fingers stroked at your cheeks eventually moving down between your jaw and your neck as she continued. No breaks; no air, until the sound of boots stomping closer to the room rang your ears, forcing you to pull away.

“Okay, I need supplies miserably Nora brought me to you, I have to go, I don’t know if this will be my last time seeing you: I hope it’s not, I’m not exactly in Isaac’s good graces – I think we both know that” Abby spoke with urgency, distrust but also sadness. Abby wasn’t sure but recently she’s been feeling as though things were slipping in between her fingers. She wasn’t sure how long this ecstasy and rapture would last, or the longevity of her contentment. Abby was certain the girl from the room; with the golf club and joel would show her face again.

“It’s okay” you assured, hands now at Abby’s biceps, lips rubbing against each other as you turned your head away from her face, shaking it slightly. 

“But don’t forget. . .” “I’m so incredibly infatuated by you” Abby whispered as she moved in closer to give a swift kiss to your forehead.

Now wasn’t the time for formalities or titles, but you wished with your fingers crossed and your eyes closed shut, that she would return for the conversation worth having. Full honesty and confessional where your girl that smelled of pine would tell you all her rushes of thoughts that nagged at her as she closed her eyes.

“Knife to the chest sweetheart, swing with your right not your left…it’s your better arm” Abby cautioned, pretending to bring her arm up to swing, giving a final squeeze to your cheek as she was headed for the door preparing for ground zero.

“Bye Abby” 

That was the difference, it was as if your body knew. Saying Bye instead of a see you later or, playfully threatening her to come back to you in one piece. Your eyebrows furrowed; your face scrunched as you cringed at your words, as mediocre as they sounded. You caught yourself doing that a lot and you weren’t sure why. Going from present tense to past tense. “I am” to “I did” to “I was” , this happened after you started dreaming. Dreaming that your body was against a cold tile, scrunching into a ball as you let out your last breath alone.

You knew. 

“This is not goodbye — don’t say that, it’s see you later!” Abby snapped, giving you a hand motion as she swung the door open, crouching down as she moved steadily through the room as it closed behind her with a loud CLICK! From the lock.

“I’ll see you later” Your hand went from waving to at your side as your smile dropped and abruptly the warm room felt cold. Very cold.

But you weren’t going to see her later. Body paralyzed to the floor as the bullet wound in your stomach bled crimson all over the floor. As red as the Honeycrisp apples you ate on Wednesdays. An auburn-haired girl rushes past you following the footsteps of Nora. You were crashing and your body was failing you. Whimpers of pain escaped your lips as you held onto your stomach like you had a bad stomach ache, rolling onto your side as your vision became a nuisance and blurry mess. During your last few moments, you thought of Abby and her bright smile, all the plans she had for the two of you, and how you were finally happy that you got your happy ending, 

But at what cost?

You weren’t going to get to drink apple cider with her or hug her again, and that’s what destroyed you the most as a salted tear fell from your eye. Apple was placed on the table rotting from the inside out, With Abby’s knife poked into its core. Death has met its match.

You were the apple of her eye, and you were destroyed and eaten whole indefinitely. 

taglist

@beforeimdeceased @starologist @destielcore @rarestdoll @luvrgalore @ellsss @zahraaziza @emluvselandabs @abbyily @elliestrwbrry @mossc0vered @spacewlf @as2rid @ariianelle @spaceshipellie @lottiematthewsceo @emonopolyman @imamybubbles @mikasbby @trulygnomed

© cowgirlcherrie

[lurkingshan]

Unknown Episode 12

This the end beautiful friends. And I wouldn't say the show is going out with a whimper, exactly, but it's certainly not with a bang. This will remain one of my all time favorite Taiwanese dramas, but I will definitely be remembering it as being so so excellent for 10 exquisite episodes that built to such a beautiful peak and then inexplicably blew it on the dismount.

We already talked about episode 11 and the sex scene blunder, as well as some of the other missed beats there. Episode 12 moved on from the immediate aftermath of Yuan and Qian getting together to give us a sense of what their lives will look like now that they are together. One thing I definitely appreciated is that they aren't hiding this from anyone--they are taking the no shame approach to the change in their relationship, and I love that. I don't know that I entirely bought how brazen they were being, though. Making out in the open office space where Qian's employees could see seemed a bit much even if they weren't brothers, and given that the show didn't portray any awkwardness or any of Qian's expected discomfort with this big shift in their relationship, it came across a little silly and dismissive of how serious a change this should be for them. I would have really enjoyed Yuan threatening Qian with kisses if it had been a more private moment. And I deeply hated the top/bottom discussion amongst the fujoshi coworkers, that was just in poor taste and out of step with the tone of the show (can we just ban bls from doing scenes like this already?).

This final episode also failed to meaningfully resolve Qian's health issue in favor of introducing a new plot: Lili's accidental pregnancy. I have mixed feelings about this development. On the one hand, it helps to reinforce a theme of this family's resilience and ensures they will have a family legacy, and it led to hands down my favorite scene in the episode, which was the family discussion where they were moving between the bedrooms as Qian learned of the pregnancy, promised not to attack San Pang, and then immediately attacked San Pang when he stopped hiding. That was comedy gold and the cast was so excellent in every beat of it. On the other hand, I don't love this plot direction for Lili and I don't think the show really did anything to reckon with what a monumental wrench it will throw into her life plans (note that this is another departure from the book, where Lili ends the story a successful jet setting model who is still single and living her ideal life traveling for work). Lili wants a career in fashion modeling and entertainment; how exactly does having a child at age 23 fit with those goals? The show didn't even bother to consider her future in the way this story was framed. I would have preferred a time skip to do this plot at a more appropriate time for her; as it was this just felt a little careless.

In the end I am glad we got to see the family accept each other's relationships and Qian and Yuan settling into living alone together in the home they love, but I do wish the final two episodes had lived up to the promise of the rest. It felt like the first 10 episodes built so beautifully to a monumental relationship change, and then the show just kinda shrugged their way through the actual change in favor of random new plots and a list of ill-fitting Taiwanese bl tropes. After everything they went through, all tension evaporated instantly, no one was uncomfortable with the relationship becoming romantic, and there was no real nuance in the family discussion about it. They simply didn’t finish the story they started and given they had such strong material to work with from the novel, I will never understand why.

That said, even with a lackluster ending I will always be grateful that we got this gem of a show. Despite its flaws, this story contains some of my all-time favorite characters and relationships. Hats off to the cast and crew for delivering one of my favorite dramas of the year. And I want to also thank the folks on here who made discussion of this show every week so fun. We are a tiny little fandom but the love and devotion to this show was so lovely, and I am extra grateful to those who stuck to the weekly pact for the final episodes so we could keep posting and talking about this story for a couple more weeks. I hope we find another show to love together very soon!

[brainrotbabe24]

OMG can you write about Thorins company and reader who has like a tongue piercing, nose piercing, snake bites/lip piercing, etc, and a few tattoos at a pretty young age and theyre like How tf did this kid get all of those🤨😦

(Like not literally a kid but yk, younger than most of the company)

Ilyyyyy btw take care of yourself💞💞

Hi! Thank you for your request!

I had so much fun writing this one...it's kind of a mix of how they would react and if they had piercings and tattoos too! I kinda got carried away, lol 💖🎉

Gandalf:  Omg, how cool would it be if he used his wizard powers to make your tattoos move?! I feel like he would do that just for shits and giggles. Like one minute, you had a cat on your calf, and now it’s up by your collarbone.

Balin: He would rather get to know you than pry into why you got piercings and tattoos. If you feel comfortable telling him, he will listen without judgment. It would bring back memories of his young adult life with Dwalin. I think Balin and Dawlin have matching tattoos. I could also see Balin having a nose or eyebrow ring when he was younger, but it got ripped out during battle.

Dwalin: Dwalin would love that you had so many tattoos and piercings. He would ask to get matching tattoos. You guys will talk for hours about tattoos, future tattoo ideas, and any horror stories. I think out of everyone, he knows why you have so many tattoos/piercings but would keep that secret forever.

Óin: “You got a booger in your nose.” he would joke about your septum ring. Oin doesn't understand the idea of piercings, thinking they will get caught on things and be distracting. But he loves tattoos. I could see him having a lower back tattoo from when he was young and wild. His secret would be revealed on the journey to Erebor when they stopped to bathe in the fountain at Rivendell. “Nice tramp stamp, Oin; what’s it say?” Nori jokes. "Why not ask your mother? I'm sure she would know." Oin laughs!

Glóin: He thinks you're lying about your age. How could the youngest member of the company have more tattoos than all of them combined?! Gloin loves your nose ring though. You are trying to convince him to get one, and it's slowly working!!

Bifur: Would sneakily show you his one tattoo proudly. It’s a heart with a dwarf's name written in it...secret lover??? Would he consider his ax a piercing? Yes. He won't ask why you are so young with so many tattoos, but every so often, when you drop some lore, he will listen intently, ensuring he gets every bit of it.

Bofur: Gives each tattoo a name. If you guys were sleeping next to each other, he would trace them. If Gandalf did his magic to move them, he would make little stories for them to preform.

Bombur: Asks how you eat with a tongue piercing. He is a little confused about the hype of piercings and tattoos. But Bofur and he would write down all the lore you told, trying to piece together the story.

Ori: Ori would ask to doodle on your tattoos. He would add to them, like drawing squiggles or coloring them in. He would also ask you to pose so he could do drawing studies of your tattoos. By the end of the trip, he should ask you to pierce his ears! 

Dori: I have to admit, he would actually like your look. He would think it’s a very dwarf thing to do and find it incredibly fashionable.

Nori: Nori will bond with you over piercings and remind you to clean them. He will also tell Ori he should follow in his footsteps and get some piercings. "It would be a Ri family tradition!" Nori will say.

Side note: Nori definitely has nipple piercings and a tongue ring lol

Thorin: He would be a little hesitant. With your age, the tattoos, and the piercing, he would be super weary. Thinking you were a bad influence! Balin would have to tell him not to judge a book by its cover.  

Omg idea: So you know how the dragon sickness kinda made him obsessed about gold and jewels. Well, what if he started to act like Smaug and he would sleep on the gold…and it got so bad that now he has like little bits of gold and gems stuck in him. They would be littered over his body…the more I talk about it, the more I keep thinking of Edward from Twilight..so think Thorin but with a sparkly body. 😂😂

Fíli: He loves your look!!! I could also see him trying to get you into some dwarf fashion and would gift you cool earrings he made. He would be down to hear your stories about your tattoos, but he would be too nervous to show you his...gotta keep that princely image lol

Kíli: Would want to get snake bites because of you. He thinks they are so cool and totally badass. “y/n could you do it for me. Here use this knife and give me some snake bites!”.

Side notes: I couldn't find a GIF of snake bites, but this one kinda matches the idea I had for him lol

Bilbo: Bilbo would disapprove. He would be scared the first time he met you, thinking you were a criminal….and once he realized your age, he would faint.  How could someone so young have so many tattoos!!

[mlm-writer]

Home (Peter Parker x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Peter Parker (TASM) x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: General Audiences (except for one swear word) Words: 1652 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 2 - Love Confession Tags: college AU, you're both studying mechanical engineering, Peter is a genius, you're just ken, fluff, kinda cheesy and kissing

It’s always something. You can never have a normal exam week, where you just spend your days in the library surrounded by fellow students, mutually fuelled by caffeine and stress. Supervillain of the week literally burned down the public library and there was an alien spacecraft that crashed into your favourite café. It felt like you still had a million chapters to read and another five thousand words to write for an essay and not to forget that your stupid project partner still has not even opened the Google Slides link you sent them. 

A long sigh, mixed with a frustrated growl left you as you once again couldn’t find a single spot on campus to sit down and study. It was always crowded like this during exam week. If you wanted a good spot, you better come to campus at 6:30am, but who had the energy for that? Fortunately for you, there was a small pebble on the road that led through the fields of yellowed grass between the main building and the main gate. You kicked it as hard as you could, letting all your woes leave you through your foot and into that little rock. It flew forward and - unexpectedly - up. “Oh shit!” You exclaimed as you followed its trajectory with your eyes. It was going straight for someone’s head, but before you could tell the brunet to watch out, he turned around and caught the pebble midair. 

When he was turned around, you recognised him. Out of all people for that pebble to almost hit, it just had to be your crush. “Peter!” You called out to him as you jogged over. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to kick it your way… good catch by the way.” 

Peter held the pebble in his fist and smiled at you; he was so cute when he did that. “Oh hey!” He beamed at you. When you complimented his catch, he hid his hands behind him and avoided eye contact. “Thanks, I got uh… good reflexes.” He cleared his throat and then looked at you. “Already done with studying for the day?”

You let out another frustrated sigh. “Ha! I wish. I came here to study, but it is fuller than a Blackpink concert stadium here. Guess I’ll have to settle for my tiny desk in my shoe-box dorm room.” 

Peter snorted at your comparison. He seemed to want to say something, but he was hesitant about it. “Uh…” You raised your brows at him, awaiting his words. “I just uh… finished my final presentation for the thermodynamics course-”

“Oh how did that go?” “Got an A, but that’s not important-”

“Not important? Bro, you’re kidding, that's great!”

Peter was getting a little red. You liked how humble he was in spite of how smart he was. He was a little awkward, but during presentations, he often had his own flavour of charisma that made you listen instantly. He was good on the eyes too…

“Uhm, thank you… what I wanted to say is uh… I’m going home now to study. My aunt won’t be home until late and you’re free to join me at my dinner table - to study, I mean, but you’re welcome to join for dinner too of course!” 

You kept forgetting Peter still doesn’t live on his own. Sometimes you envied him, sometimes you were happy with your freedom. “Are you sure? That’d be really cool. Studying together is way more fun than on my own anyway. Oh, do you maybe have notes for our material science course that I could borrow?” 

A little later those notes were in front of you as you were seated at Peter’s dinner table. You had never been in his home before, but the Earthy tones and natural lights just made it feel like a home. There was love in the pictures that decorated the place, there was personality in the old books that scattered the house, one of a shelf on the wall, another one next to a vase with flowers, another on the side table by the couch… 

“Here you go!” Peter put a glass of juice next to you. You thanked him with a smile. You did not realise how your warm smile fit right in that room, how it made Peter’s heart leap and his stomach flip upside down. He just sat down across from you like there was nothing going on. 

You managed to concentrate for a good half hour, but after that your eyes drifted up and caught onto a sight that was way better than a schematic drawing of how tension affects different materials. Peter had this cute frown of concentration on his face, a pencil balancing between his lips as he typed something up on his laptop. He abruptly paused and looked straight at you. The change was so sudden; your eyes widened, before you forced them back onto Peter’s notes. Your face felt hot. Peter definitely caught you staring and you had no idea what he thought of it. Did he suspect you fantasised about kissing him whenever he info-dumped on you? Did he know how his smile could light up your whole day? Did he have a clue or was he just that oblivious? Most smart people were.

Suddenly, Peter let his head fall onto the dinner table. “I can’t do this anymore!” He exclaimed. You gave him a worried look, not that he saw it with his face planted in his notes. 

“Wow, I didn’t know even the genius Peter Parker suffered from exam breakdown,” you commented. You genuinely thought Peter thought exams were a breeze. His grades were all exemplary, except that one time he was down with the flu so bad, you didn’t see him for three weeks. 

“That’s not it! I’m-” he lifted his head. He was clearly upset, but as he rose from his seat to walk back and forth along the kitchen counters, he couldn’t put a single sentence together. He had paced the length of his kitchen at least five times, before he spoke up again. “This is so not how I envisioned this going, but I feel like I am gonna burst if I don’t say this now!” He walked over to you and, in an incredible display of strength, turned your chair with you on it to face away from the table. His arms were caging you, holding the back of the old, wooden furniture. “I’m so in love with you and…” He seemed to realise what he said and physically backed up until his back was against the wall. 

You didn’t know what to say. It was hard to believe your ears. You just stared at him in shock as Peter did that thing you adored so much – rattling on like someone who did not prepare enough text to fill up their 30-minutes presentation. “And I don’t need you to feel the same, sorry, that was coming off a little strong, but I mean it. It’s like I’m in pain when I’m around you and I can’t hold you. Wait no that’s cheesy. Is it? I don’t even know, you make me wanna say cheesy stuff!” Peter was suddenly very interested in the couch in the living room, his eyes never leaving it as more words poured uncontrollably from his mouth. “When you look at me all my instincts are telling me you feel the same, but it could be wishful thinking, but I am so sure, but what if I’m wrong, I mean if I AM wrong, then that’s fine, I just…” 

You stood up. Peter immediately shut up, eyes shifting to the floor. He looked like a child caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves and then closed the distance quickly, putting one hand on the wall behind Peter. Your classmate froze up and you wanted to relieve him of his nerves, but you had your own that clogged up your throat and wound your vocal cords tight like a scrunchie holding a very heavy ponytail. “Whenever you talk, I never want you to shut up, but when I look at your lips moving, I cannot think about anything but making you shut up with my own.” 

Peter looked up, glistening eyes pulling you in. You were scanning each other’s faces, both scared this was all just some prank or a dream. “I’m going to ruin this moment by talking about material science if you don’t shut me up right now,” he almost whispered. You chuckled and put an arm around him, pulling him against you until your lips met. It was like coming home, like hot chocolate in winter, like a cosy blanket by the window on a rainy day. 

Your lips touched like they were meant to do so from day one. It was your first kiss together and yet it felt like you had been doing this for ages. Your whole body felt like it was going haywire and the look in Peter’s eyes when you parted did not help. Neither of you said anything, kissing in the kitchen over and over again, as if you were memorising each other’s taste, while you should be memorising that schematic you still had open on your laptop. 

When you finally found it in you to take a step back from Peter, you were both smiling giddily at each other. You broke the silence between you two, before Peter did. “All jokes aside, I actually do need you to talk to me about material science. I think I’ll be much more concentrated when you explain it.” 

Peter let out a chuckle. “Ok, but when exams are over, you are buying me dinner.” 

You slowly walked back to your chair. “I’ll even throw in a movie as well,” you replied, suddenly feeling a lot better about your exams. 

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure! A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

[lemonandlime22]

I loved what you wrote for the brothers' reaction if the MC's baby called them dad. But let's go back in time a little, what would be the brothers' relationship with the MC's water bursting.

I thought of them all together in the living room or having dinner when that happens, but if you prefer I would love the situation being individual as well!

Thank you for your attention and have a nice day :)

Brother reaction to Mc's water braking

Warning(s): Mc is implied to be afab but still gn, cussing

A/N: Decided to kinda to a mix of individual and general hcs. I did a lot of googling for this lmao. The post anon is talking bout is here

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

So yall were having dinner like any normal day

nothing rly noteworthy happened before dinner

the family fought as per usual-

though, throughout your pregnancy, the fighting has been dialed back a bit, thanks to Luci.

-and you had felt less sluggish than usual so doing your exercises was p easy

and your due date was almost 2 weeks away

so you had nothing to worry about.

Until you did.

In the middle of taking a bite, you felt a liquid drip down your leg-

at first you thought you might have urinated on yourself, your bladder had physically gotten smaller so it wouldn't have been the first time this had happened

but when you got up to excuse your self to the restroom

you felt a dull but very noticeable ache and pressure around your pelvis area

It then finally clicked that you were going into labor..

Joy...

"Mc? are you alright dear? you know you shouldn't stand for too long you'll end up sore again" Asmo said next to you, catching the attention of his brothers.

Taking a deep sigh, you slowly pushed your chair in and with careful slow steps, started walking toward the hospital bag near the entrance hall that had been prepared a month before hand.

Right before you got to the dining room exit, you replied, "...I'm pretty sure my water broke.." mumbling just loud enough for the group to hear. The dull pain had slowly been getting worse, and you wanted to focus on your breathing to hopefully help manage it.

The room was quiet for a moment before bursting into expected chaos...

Lucifer

Lucifer may look like he's calm, but on the inside, he is losing his absolute shit.

He's calming his brothers down and instructing them on what to do

he is also one of the brothers that will try to help you walk to the car and into the hospital.

If he's the father he might actually start crying

doesn't want to but he might.

If he's not he's still going to help you as much as he's able, also equally stressed either way.

After the baby's born he and a few of his other brothers will go back home to make sure the nursery is ready.

Mammon

Mammon's job is to get the/his car ready and out front to drive everyone to the hospital.

He is probably the most visibly panic-y

may or may not have knocked over a tree trying to get the car out front as fast as he could.

If he's the father he is 100% sobbing all throughout the labor, more than you, but its mostly happy excited tears, extremely nervous.

If he's not then he's more so excited, he's about to be godfather! this is not your choice, as soon as he became your friend he demanded that he was the child's godfather/uncle.

Was one that went to help with the nursery, but he had to be dragged out.

Levi

Levi was in charge of getting you more blankets and pillows for the hospital, along with some books for afterwords and the rest of the time at the hospital.

Also very visibly panicked, but trying to hide it terribly.

If he's the father, he'll do his job as fast as possible to he can be by your side, kinda kicks into General of the Devildom Navy mode a lil bit.

If he is not da father, he'll be more nervous and probably drop a lot of the things he's trying to carry cause of it.

Satan

Satan's job was to help you walk to the car/into the hospital

he would never admit it but Luci trusts him the most to be gentle and calm with you in this type of situation.

He is actually the calmest about this.

He'll offer to carry you but if you decline he'll settle for having your arm around his shoulders so he can support your weight.

If he is the father, he will be scary calm, and try to distract you from the pain the best he can while holding your hand all the way through.

If not, then he's still quite calm and doing his best to take some stress off your shoulders.

Asmo

Asmo was to call everyone else and let them know about what was going on.

He is far more excited than nervous

practically jumping up and down as he tells everyone.

If he's the father, scratch jumping up and down, mans is straight up bouncing off the walls, can barely get out a

"Babys here!"

before hanging up.

Like Levi he wants to get his job done as fast as he can to be with you.

If he's not then he'll still be very excited, he'll be blabbing on all about the baby forever to everyone he calls.

Beel

Beel's in charge of carrying the things you need for the hospital, the overnight bag, the hospital bag, and food for after labor.

The look on his face is very stern but he is panicking like all hell

probably the most nervous about yours and the baby's health.

If he's the father, fuck Satan- he is carrying you in one hand and all the bags in the other

his fear is 110% worse.

If he's not he'll still be very scared, he'll hover around you tho, even weeks after your out of the hospital.

Also another one that goes back home to help with the nursery, may have hidden some snacks in there for you.

Belphie

He helps Levi get with getting pillows and blankets for you.

He looks like he's about pass tf about, but can't he's rly nervous, refuses to admit it tho.

If he's the father, he'll have Beel be with you when he can't, but he's so excited and refuses to sleep

will make his brothers slap him as hard as they can if he does.

If he's not, he will still try to stay awake to help you but will probably pass out once he knows everything is alright.

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

[or0ch1maru]

okay so im back in naruto for an undefined amount of time and im an akatsuki whore..

.. more for specific fellas...

.. and i kinda wanna know your hcs ( sfw/nsfw your choice!!!! ) with hidan ( or whoever else you want ) trying for a kid!!

i was reading your hidan hcs and the kid part made me..... UWAHHHH 🥹🥹🥹💥

hiiiiii bby🫶🏻welcome my fellow akatsuki whore. Here’s a big smooch just for you💋

Warnings: 18+, smut, pregnancy, breeding kink, cream pies, cum dumpster, everything to do with cum😩

Sorry for this being short, I wrote this sitting in my car before going into work

Also sorry for my absence, I’ve been very busy and then had to heal from a shoulder injury but I’m better now🫡

•

-the second you tell Hidan you want to have a baby with him, if he isn’t pumping into you, stuffing his load deep inside. He’s reading baby books

-learning everything about pregnancy, what changes your body will go through, morning sickness, cravings, swelling, etc

-all the risks of pregnancy, before and during the birth process. He’s literally learning EVERYTHING about it. Wanting to be able to provide not just safety, but comfort for you

-already has girl and boy names picked out. Where he’d put their crib, and what cute little baby clothes he wants to buy already planned in his head

-when I say, he’s been waiting for this day with you, the poor man has been WAITING

-anywayyyy

-when it comes down to it, he’s got you bent over any and every surface in your shared room

-or your face mushed into the carpet, wall or bed, as he rams into you from behind

-his absolute favorite being the mating press. Your ankles against his ears as his large and calloused hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly against him

-the sounds of his hips smacking against yours, almost drowns out your moans. The noises mixing together causing Hidan’s climax to hit quickly, spitting out thick ropes of his cum, coating the inside of your walls

-Hidan was already fucking you daily or every other day before hand, but now that you two are trying for a baby, it’s been everyday, multiple times a day.

-his breeding kink showing its dirty little head with every session

-“fuck baby, look how stuffed you are” he coos, looking down at the bulge of your stomach. His cock head pushing against your small frame

-“nothing but my nasty little cum dumpster huh” the words fall from his lips in that familiar husky tone, his face buried into your shoulder as he pounds into your cunt

-“such a good little whore for me” he says softly as he pulls out, stuffing two of his fingers back into your already abused hole, making sure his cum stays inside

-slips a pretty little plug in you to make sure your womb takes him.

-has tears streaming down his face when he sees the two little pink lines or + sign on the test. Multiple positives on the many tests you took to make sure what you’re seeing is true

-peppers your cute little face in kisses, his large hands caressing your cheeks.

-“so proud of ya baby, knew we could do it”

-“gonna be such a great momma. Gonna look so pretty carrying my my child”

[elexuscal]

Ficlet prompt idea! Interactions between ART and Pin-Lee and/or Mensah in the time after NE but before SC.

More thoughts if you wanted more inspiration than a single line. Does Pin-Lee teach ART some new curses ('cause ART curses alot more in this book, and I wanna blame Pin-Lee like how Rhatti mentions the overlap between MB and Pin-Lee's curse vocab)? How great would their banter be, lawyer vs know-it-all-AI?!

Is ART still kinda shy/excited by meeting Mensah?

Thank you~ I really love your work!!!

Awwww thank you very much!

Oh man i was so spoiled for choice here but i really really struggled to think of an interesting take on this

Big thank you to @specialagentartemis who i paraphrased a significant chunk of this from as well as general Vibes

Asshole vs Asshole

So here's the thing. Here's the fucking thing, okay?

Twenty-three days. Twenty-three fucking days of waiting, of worrying, of preparing. Of nearly chewing her own arm off. Of thinking she was walk into a fucking blood bath.

And the Preservation Alliance rescue team finally gets to the scene of the crime, and no one is dead. Which is fucking good, obviously. Okay. She gets it. No one's dead, no one's lost any limbs, and praise the dark gods of yesteryear, no one has even been kidnapped. This is literally better than the best-case scenarios they concocted.

But surely, surely, Pin-Lee can't be the only one who thinks it is fucking weird to be having tea with the person who did the kidnapping in the fist place?

"Thank you, Perihelion," Ayda says, as a shiny blue drone finishes pouring tea into a cup. Just a whiff and a glance is all Pin-Lee needs to know it was brewed exactly the way Dr. Mensah prefers it.

The drone turns to hover to her. It pours a drink into her own mug. Pin-Lee glares at it.

Ayda doesn't look at her, doesn't so much as tilt her head. But they've worked together for a long, long time now, and Pin-Lee nonetheless reads the subtler body language. She grinds out, "Thank you."

She sips the drink. It is coffee and it is extremely bitter and it's warm-but-not-quite-hot and Pin-Lee has a sneaking suspicion it is at least a few hours old.

[You're welcome~] Perihelion's trills as the drone zooms away.

Peri. Fucking. Helion.

Turns out, it's the one that orchestrated this whole thing. The super-secret advanced spaceship that SecUnit apparently befriended while it was off on its journey of self-discovery or whatever decided that it knew exactly who could handle its little pest control problem, and hadn't much cared which innocent civilians got stuck in the cross-fire.

"There were extenuating circumstances," SecUnit had explained, face set like it was ready for a fight.

"It's all fine, water under the bridge," Ratthi had said. "No harm done really."

"Except for the new layers of fresh trauma," Overse had groused.

"But we're handling that, too," Arada had said, with a too-bright smile. "And it's a good thing we're here to help the colonists."

"Yeah yeah and you should see ART's hydroponics bay, it's super cool," said Amena, tugging on her arm.

So suffice to say she was kind of getting some Mixed Signals about this whole thing.

But okay! Corporates descending to steal the livelihoods of hundreds of innocents! Fine! There's a lot at stake! And this is what Pin-Lee is good at, and (sort of) what she was dragged along to handle, so she is willing to put this all aside for the greater good.

Pin-Lee sips at her under-handed-insult coffee and reads over the legal feed documents of this whole cluster-fuck of a case. "Okay," she says at last. "Okay, this is salvageable. But I'm going to need to some more info before I can fully revise this.."

"Of course," says the captain of The Perihelion, a note of genuine relief in his otherwise professional voice. "What do you need?"

"1: A full list of all the symptoms associated with the contamination, and its speed of spread. That'll influence what level of breach this is classified under. 2: Estimates for all of the colonists deaths that were directly caused due to their being stranded. 3: Monetary evaluation of all the colonists' remaining assets..."

"Of course," the captain agrees

Which is fine. Except fifteen minutes later some teenager not-much-older-than-Amena shows up and hands Pin-Lee a stack of paper.

"What's this?" Pin-Lee says, her eyes immediately skidding off of the hand-written tables and charts.

"That's our evaluation of the colonists' assets, like you asked for," the teenager (Turi?) says.

Pin-Lee looks at Turi, to the papers, and back at Turi again. "Can I get this in the feed?"

"Well.... You can..." Turi says, a bit of red in their cheeks. "But..."

"But no guarantee the numbers won't be doctored there," calls Karime from the other side of the lounge.

Teeth grinding in the back of her mouth, Pin-Lee manages, "What?"

[My numbers are perfectly accurate,] Perihelion protests. [It is hardly my fault if none of you are capable of following the calculations.]

Martyn snorts. "It would help if you bothered explaining all your sources."

[Find them yourself.]

Pin-Lee can barely believe what she's hearing. "Are you telling me... that your AI keeps fucking with the numbers so bad that you need to get a teenager to do the accounts by hand."

"I'm not a teenager, I'm twenty-three." Pin-Lee huffs; as if that's a meaningful difference. "And I'm a very, very good accountant." Turi pauses, then admits, "But that's the long and short of it, yes."

Pin-Lee can't help it. She drops her head to the table and hides it under her arms.

[Do you have a problem with this state of affairs?] the very aptly re-named Asshole Research Transport oozes in her private feed.

[You really don't need me to answer that.]

[You're right. I don't.]

She uncurls her finger and makes a rude gesture. Presumably one of its thousands of cameras will see it.

That summons SecUnit into the conversation. [Are you two fucking with each other again?]

[No,] they say in unison.

[Cut it out,] SecUnit says, and then drops away. Truly a master of conflict resolution, that one.

'I'll cut it out when you learn to make nicer friends', she almost sends, but catches the obvious come-back and stops herself. Instead she takes sip of her shitty coffee and gets to work trying to interpret hand-written accounts.

[takuyakistall]

brewing mishaps

Ace found a book containing recipes for potions. How far will curiosity get him? — Pomefiore!Ace x Reader

Note: hi.... hello........ (dusts off cobwebs) this is kinda embarrassing posting again after i said i wld no longer post 🙈

Ace had always known that Pomefiore offered a wide array of potion recipes hidden away in thick tomes that collected dust in shelves. It wasn't forbidden to browse through them, of course, it was already a given that dangerous mixes were stored away safely and away from students.

Which is why Ace was a little baffled, a little confused, as to why there was a recipe for a potion that supposedly alters one's feelings "permanently". He wondered why the text had quotation marks but quickly shook his head as he continued to gloss over the pages.

The ink was fading, he could barely make out some words or whole paragraphs. Frustration threatened to shut the book closed and shove it back to its place in the shelf until his eyes caught a few words that read: This potion... Works... Love...

"Ha?"

Hold on, isn't that basically saying this is a love potion? Permanent effects too?? Isn't that seriously bad???

The thought of asking Vil came across his mind but he shooed the thought away when he promptly put back the book in its original spot on the shelf. He shouldn't try and dabble in this sort of thing...

—or so he thought. He wanted to find out the reason why he was in the greenhouse, looking for potion ingredients.

"Get away from me." Oh, the look on his face was priceless. He was under the assumption that the potion he threw together haphazardly would work as intended. The small vial that was supposed to work as a love potion did the exact opposite—Wait, wait, wait. What's going on?

Vil called him an idiot. He was under the impression that Ace knew better than to follow a recipe for a potion whose description could be barely read with the ink fading away. He managed to exceed his expectations in the worst way and now he was facing the consequences of picking the forbidden fruit that granted him knowledge. Now that he took a bite, he was cast away.

It was curious; how far would he go to be welcomed back? It was simple. Constant begging got him somewhere with Vil who was tired and sick from his junior tailing him around the corridors and even went as far as to enter his room unprompted. Needless to say, one way to get Ace off his back was to appease him.

"Huh," was all Ace could respond with when Vil gave him the remedy.

"Don't give me that blank look? Were you expecting something awfully romantic like a true love's kiss will wake them from the spell?" Vil's tone was sharp, mostly because he was at his limit dealing with his antics. "There is no such thing as a potion with permanent effects that is out in the open in the dormitory. It was most likely vandalized."

"So you're telling me that the best I can do is wait for it to wear off?" Ace tilted his head, a little doubtful of his dorm leader's words. "Are you sure? Cause it's gonna hurt a lot if it ends up being permanent."

"It's the consequences of your actions. Deal with it. I trust that you'll know better than to make your friend drink a potion in the future."

"Yes, yes..."

Frankly, Ace didn't buy it. It was his tendency to overthink that led him to approaching you once more with his usual smile on his face, waving at you mischievously as if nothing changed between the two of you.

"Yo! What's up?"

"Ha? I told you to get away from me before." Your reply was ice cold. Ace faltered a little but he made sure to cover it up quickly with another comment.

"Aww, c'mon, don't be like that! We're best buddies, aren't we?" He tried to wrap his hand around your neck but was pushed away swiftly. "You can't seriously hate me forever because of some potion."

"Isn't this your fault?"

"Geh... Nevermind that. I just wanna focus on getting you back to normal."

"This is the new normal. Get used to it."

"Nuh-uh. Vil told me that the effects would wear off eventually so maybe talking to you like this would speed up the process." Ace grinned, clearly trying his best to look unfazed. "Maybe even doing the things we used to do would shake off the effects."

"No? I really don't want to talk to you right now. This is a waste of time— Woah!?" Getting pulled by the arm was certainly one way to bring you back closer. Ace wanted to get this over as quickly as possible and he would go to such lengths to ensure that it would happen. If this doesn't work, then he'll have to march up to Vil again and beg for another remedy.

"Prepare yourself! We're gonna do every single thing we used to do!"

[olderthannetfic]

https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/759473232339419136/httpsolderthannetfictumblrcompost75896449235#notes

ONTF: "I haven’t read the actual book. Does it come across as just a repeat? My impression was that it was supposed to be more of a critique/reaction."

I read the book and watched DitF when they came out, so years and years ago, back when the book still used the lines about being like handmaide's tale and pacific rim, before at my bookstore deleted that tagline. I didn't know it was inspired by DitF when I picked it up.

I read the book without knowing about the DitF ties, and to me the DitF plot elements immediately jumped out and were a bit too blatant. The male female pair needing to pilot the mecha is one thing. Or reversing 02's murderous piloting and making it an all against the women by men, then making the murder part universal and not just exclusive to one individual also was fine. I'm no expert on mechas, so at first I just waved it away.

But parts of the plot also felt very copied to the point that I just knew the twist not because the book did anything to foreshadow it, I just had to remember DitF and could vaguely predict the plot twist. My most eyeroll example is probably the "The humans are the real invaders!" which I kinda guessed within the first few chapters, if not pages, after noticing the DitF ties, even before the story tried to cobble that foreshadowing together. Basically if you have watched DitF you could basically predict 70% of the plot twists and reveals. 🤷‍♀️ I might be misremembering but I think even the Alien plot twist was just used beat for beat, but I'm not sure if I'm mixing them up in my mind.

Even if it was a critique of that anime, it still felt too copied and like more of a fanfic + analysis, than a work standing on its own with original ideas. You could have changed the names, and it'd have felt right at home with the DitF fanfics. I think the best way to compare it is with Hunger game clones, the original Hunger games had a large focus on social commentary and the woes of the people, while many Hunger game clones were basically just focusing on the love triangle and #Girlboss without any of the apparent depth the actual book had. It had a bit of that feel, just that DitF wasn't that good either. 😖Ironically, never read that one, but my friend who read the Hunger games, and some clones explained that to me.

I know the author themselves admitted to it, but I think the problem is less the admitting to having copied certain concepts. I think the problem is them being mad that people still critique that aspect at all. Even if you openly tell people you copied or got inspired by another work, if people think it's too blatant, that doesn't negate the fact that people are gonna find a problem with how obvious or blatant the copying is. Offence can be a defence from accusations of copying, but depending on your writing it can still warrant people criticizing it because of how much you copied or "got inspired by". Like, the tiktok I saw wasn't about people finding out about the DitF copying, it was XJZhao trying to shut up the DitF people by saying they got the greenlight from the DitF showrunners, when that wasn't really the problem. I mean some people bitched about that, but it was also aimed at people just criticizing how obvious it was, even if they admitted to it being based on DitF rewrites. 😐

--

Ah. Honestly... I think a lot of problems come from publishing's love of marketing very young writers because it's exciting and aspirational for the audience and thus sells books. This just sounds like inexperienced writer stuff plus a bad penchant for fighting on social media when they should refrain.

[sometimeslapine]

[If You Can't Craft Your Rituals At Home…]

(mentions of inflation, setup for a story to come...)

She stood on the sidewalk, spending an inordinate amount of time just… staring at it. It was one of those kinds of things acting under rules you'd only ever hear mentioned in hushed rumors, yet the ruleset it flew by was overplayed enough to land itself as a named trope. Almost by intent, it was bland and easy to miss. Knowing of its existence wasn't enough; you had to be fully determined, stubborn beyond reason in hunting it down again and again, else that first time you stumbled across it as a matter of some convenient plot device would also be the last. It wasn't here yesterday, and if what her own research into the matter told her, it wouldn't be here tomorrow.

On that note, it was set to close in just under thirty minutes. The mid-autumn season already saw the sun's departure a few hours earlier, and the cool breeze that filled its place scattered leaves in some scratchy protest to the otherwise silent city block. Most everyone had the good sense to retire for the night by now, but time still ticked forward. She'd have to either swallow her pride and head on in, or she'd be forced to wait another twenty-nine to thirty days for this odd curio shop to migrate back to the only recorded appearance within driving distance.

what a hassle. how a place like this kept in business was beyond her.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

The door brushed against a bell chime as it opened, completely giving away the girl's hopes of entering unnoticed. she braced herself for the eccentric greeting a place like this should command, but… no hello, no welcome, just the ticking of some distant mechanical clock and a cat furred jet-black lazing about atop the register counter. Practically devoid of life, otherwise.

Sure was one hell of a sight to take in though, glancing around. The "thrift shop" description she was given by an internet friend sharing rumors was about as spot on as one could get. Tiny handmade trinkets of metal and leather, small wrapped bags of floral odds and ends, various bottles of multicolored liquids, a mix of bound books both aged and new, rough stones and polished gems, incense and tealight candles, the list could go on and on…

It's… one thing to read up on the occult from a distance. There's still some wild stuff someone studied enough as her could pull off with knowledge alone, but without any proper conduits or ritual equipment to better focus that will, even the full extent of a decade's worth of magik practice at her disposal was little more than cheap parlor tricks in comparison to what she was hoping to achieve one day. The atmosphere in this place was practically crackling with the arcane potential she needed, and it set her thoughts ablaze. Just imagine all the fun stuff she'd pull off with tools like these…

a separate train of thought reminded her once again to focus. exciting as it was to window shop, she was here on a very specific and personal mission, and likely only had enough on her to cover the cost of executing one singular plan. she very literally could not afford to be distracted right now.

focus.

Oh. Huh. She'd been absentmindedly wandering up and down the cluttered aisles, idly coming to a stop at a side wall of woodwind instruments. This… isn't helpful to her. Couldn't hold a tune to save her life.

Man, this place was a labyrinth. If only she knew what she was actually looking for.

Well, she /knew/ what she wanted, at least on some level, but with this layout so chaotic, finding anything specific would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Should she try and track down whoever ran the place?? Hell, how does someone even ask for help executing a stunt like what she had planned without sounding like a complete weirdo.

Hm. Well… worst case scenario, she could prooooobably cobble together the needed reagents for some rougher, more excessive passes at some kinda body modification spells and just let a good old-fashioned air compressor do the rest of the work. Something to increase her body's elasticity, maybe? It's not fully self-sustaining, but the novelty factor alone sounded hot, and that wonderful pressure sensation she always imagined tagging along whenever she pictured herself slowly filling with air, growing rounder, larger, hollow to the touch and taut as a drum, would all be felt tenfold when filtered through the lens of an imperfect homebrew mess of a-

god, she's letting her mind wander again. /focus/.

Still, she knew what she needed to make it work. It really could work. So… saffron. Not the grocery store variety, but true high-grade saffron as a starter, and a fair amount of it. That stuff was derived from… crocus sativus, she was fairly certain? Currently in-season, at least. Surely this place would carry properly cultivated strains of it. As for the where, she recalled spotting some organized floral arrangements over on a low aisle near the entrance, off to the left a tad somewhere… backtracking… and… ah, there's th-

As she reached out towards one of the vases to grab a handful of stalks, she immediately felt a pair of eyes on her back, freezing her in place. (Metaphorically, she'd clarify, but the sudden imposing presence left her feeling speechless.)

A glance back at the counter. Someone's behind there. A jet-black silhouette, standing tall and obscured in shadow. She wasn't alone after all. The figure watched her movements with careful intent. Where have they been hiding this whole time?? It's still dead quiet in here, how did she not hear them settle into place???

She waved weakly to the supposed shopkeep, as a gesture of good faith. Weight shifting to lean against the countertop, they waved back with one hand in a half-hearted acknowledgement, resting their head against the other palm in a lazy, almost uncaring fashion. Yet that piercing, distrusting gaze remained unchanged, fixed on her position. It was the only thing actually visible under the wide brim of that pointed hat, all other details of their figure lost to the hazy penumbra.

She suddenly felt very self conscious.

She wasn't trying to shoplift, if that was their concern…? Wasn't good karma. And, hell, trying to pull one over on a mage, /especially/ one that had to work in the Nightmare That Is Retail was the easiest way to land yourself with a nasty hex or two. Service industry workers do not fuck around when they know they can punch back without consequence.

Secondly, the whole reason she was here was to fulfill some nonsense inflation kink of hers. Surely it was obscure enough an interest that she could pass this purchase off as something else, but what if they saw through that lie??

hey. she should probably say something.

Oh. Right. Shit. She's been locked in a mute staring contest for at least 90 seconds now. This isn't doing anything to help her case. Shit, shit-

"…Still just browsing for now! I'll be up shortly to check out," with a showy wave holding up a bushel of crocuses. How she worked that statement out without a voice crack, she'll never know. The only reaction her announcement received from the opposite end of the shop was a raised eyebrow of… Disinterest? Amusement? God, they were so unreadable.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

She eventually made her way up to the counter, placing down a haul of the crocuses (croquoi? crocusen?? weird word), along with some fresh lavender, a pack of myrrh incense, a few gemstones, some smaller unrecognizable odds and ends, and a worn-down air-aspected elemental charm for good measure.

Now was as good an opportunity as ever to try to get a read on this shopkeep. Some details of a long robe broke through, some particularly tangled and chaotically-messy hairstyle going down to the waistline, but the fine details were… still conceptually hazy, at best. Even up close, their entire figure was marred in a heavy shadow, save the eyes. It was almost surreal how well-executed the fecharis look was pulled off; Some illusion spell had to've been at play.

"Just… this stuff today," she recited with the kind of perfectly-measured cadence one only gets by rehearsing a line a few too many times.

There wasn't an immediate response from the shopkeep though, and it almost looked like they were sizing up her own worth, just as they were the things she was trying to buy.

"Wait here."

…Well, that's ominous. They finally speak up, and it's little more than a two-word instruction. Hell, she didn't even have time to deliver the prepared excuse for this purchase. She watched the figure head through a door on the back wall, presumably leading to some stock room, before returning and placing down a bottle of some milky-white opaque substance on the counter.

"Wh… what…" she trailed off, confused.

"Sap from the ficus elastica. A toxic reagent akin to latex, so handle with care. If you're doing what I think you're doing, you'll need to make something far more potent than the amped-up self-care relaxant you're about to craft."

A bolt of lighting shot upwards through her body. She just got read like a book, negged in the process, and struck with a burning fluster she could feel flush across her face doing nothing to hide those facts.

"Trust me. In my experience, it works leagues better," they said, with an almost reassuring tone. There was the faintest hint of a genuine, caring smile across the face, before that detail got lost in the haze again. "Consider it on the house."

'/In my experience/'… are they implying- wh- that's- …holy shit?? they're just as much of a freak as she is???

"Uh, T-thank you!" she replied back with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. God, this shopkeep was suddenly the most fascinating person she'd ever met. She absolutely needed to make a return trip some day. She had so much she wanted to discuss. The kinds of stuff she could learn from someone like them…

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

The total was calculated, approximately $80, or just shy of it. Cash exchanged hands over now much-more-confident small talk, a pair of ones and some coins returned as change. A light-hearted matching of "Do come again soon!" and "Don't worry, I plan on it," with a laugh.

As she approached the front door, she turned back to give a final wave to th- Ah. They were gone again, probably off tending to something else. Geez, never knew a shopkeep's life could be so busy. Hey, looks like the cat's back though, small fuzzy shadow once again stretched out and lazing atop the-

…oh.

duh. she has some close friends who regularly pull that same stunt. should've been obvious.

Still… what an odd character. With a renewed spark of confidence in tonight's plans, she waved her goodbye to the creature watching over the shop and made the exit right as a clock started signaling the store's close with a chime.

Supplies now in hand, she absolutely could not wait to get home.