#and why do you keep trying to tell me i can colour my tag words ? don't lie to me like that

[keeps-ache]

my nose is runny.. it's the end of the woooooorlldd

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: I'm tryna rotate as much as possible.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Her name is Margot. She’s talkative but kind. She guides you through everything with patience. Tells you when to close your eyes and look up, how to hold your head, when to pucker your lips. She even explains exactly what she’s doing and why she’s doing it. Despite her demeanour, you still feel utterly stupid. Rather, you feel inadequate. 

Another woman shows up shortly after, as a brush traces the line of your cheek. She introduces herself as Darla, she has a whole rack of dresses lined up for you. Another inward cringe threatens to compress your lungs. 

As Darla presents you with options, you find it hard to breathe. It’s all so overwhelming, especially as a third woman, Erica, appears to do your hair, and a fourth, Nia, to tend to your nails. You could faint as you’re pushed, pulled, and prodded from all sides. 

“I like the red,” Margot suggests as you hem and haw.  

The dresses are all nice but you don’t even know what you’re picking it for. Honestly, none of them suit you. Too much skin for your liking. Not that that stays much; your comfort is jeans and baggy tees.  

Erika hums, “what about the teal, lovey? I do think you’d look marvelous with those cutouts.” 

“Yes, it is a pretty colour. You have the complexion for it,” Darla remarks. 

They’re all so nice but there’s something pitying in their voices. You feel like a child. You don’t belong here. You especially don’t belong with Bucky, apparently, he knows that too. Why else would he have these women plucking and picking at you? 

Margot finishes and brings you a mirror. As you see yourself, you blanch. It’s not bad. In fact, she’s done better than you could ever manage but you don’t look like yourself. You don’t feel like yourself. If he wants you to be someone else, you don’t think you can do that. 

You feel yourself shrinking. Your shoulders slump and you wilt, stuttering but unable to say a word. Margot touches your shoulder. 

“What is it? Hon, have I done something wrong?” 

“No, no,” you croak and bring your hands to your throat, “it’s nice. Really nice but... I need some air.” 

“Of course, Darl, Nia,” she shoos away the stylist pinning your hair, “let her up.” 

The women back off and the fourth watches you from the rack, still holding a sparkly black get-up. You search the room and swiftly head for the door. You let yourself into the hall, fanning yourself with your half-done acrylics. You’re happy at least they aren’t long. 

You pace back and forth, watching your feet pass over the pattern of the hotel carpet. You can run. You could just leave right now. The thought only makes your stomach hurt. No, you can’t. Not after he’s gone to all this trouble. You’d hate to seem ungrateful. 

You continue your incessant laps back and forth outside the door. You hear footfalls from around the corner and pause. You should go back in before someone sees you. You grab the handle. Shoot, it’s locked. You wiggle it as a shadow appears at the end of the hall. You gulp and peer down. 

It’s him. You lean on the door and face Bucky. He wears a dark blue jacket over a black shirt and black pants. There’s patterning sewn into his jacket, subtle spirals all around. His dark hair his combed back to the ends flip out behind his ears and his dark beard glints with silver strands, a patch more obvious on his chin. He’s strikingly handsome. So much so, you can’t understand why you’re there. 

His brows form a vee as he nears and he tilts his head, a tick in his cheek, “what’s going on, doll?” 

“Um, just... locked out,” you turn the handle again to emphasize your point. 

“No, what’s....” he looks at you and gestures up and down with his hand, “no, this won’t do.” 

You blink and pout. After all that and you’re not good enough. He raps on the door with his knuckles and there’s some scuffing from inside before Margot opens it. She steps back to let you in and greets Bucky by name. 

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he urges you ahead of him, his hand firmly around your arm, “it’s too much. She doesn’t need all this. I told you, just a little enhancement. I don’t want her looking like a Barbie.” 

“Sorry, sir, it’s... standard.” 

“Doll,” he stops you with him as he plants himself near the racks of dresses. The women watch him anxiously. “What do you think? The make up; you like it?” 

You peer around and stare at Margot. She worked so hard and it isn’t that it’s bad work. She made you look gorgeous but you just don’t like all the layers. You slant your mouth one way then the other. 

“Be honest,” he insists. 

“I... It’s pretty but a bit... heavy?” You eke out. 

“I agree,” he lets you go, “I appreciate the hard work, Marg, but I want to see her natural beauty shining. And these dresses...” he turns, “these aren’t right. I said light. I said... Mm, no. Doll, what’s your favourite colour?” 

He faces you as you stand in shock. You feel horrible that he’s reproaching them like this. They’ve done all this for you and he’s just going down a list of everything wrong. 

“Erm, purple, I guess but--” 

“Darla, get her something purple. Lavender? Lilac?” He looks at you for confirmation and you just nod. You won’t correct him. “Erica, finish her hair, something a bit less... stuffy. Margot, clean her face up. Nia, the nails are looking good.” He turns to you and takes you by the shoulders, “and you, all you gotta do is be your cute little self, alright?” 

You gulp and nod. You don’t know what to say. He saves you from a response as he brings his hand up under your chin. He leans in to kiss you and your cheeks flame at the awareness of your audience. He pulls back and caresses your cheek before parts completely. 

He checks his watch, “don’t got all night.” 

He marches off, leaving you dumbfounded. He’s like a hurricane, coming in and blowing everything out of sorts. You look around guiltily. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Margot assures with a smile, “come, let’s get you fixed up, dahling.” 

She beckons you over and sits you back down. You give your hand back to Nia to finish the manicure as Erica once more goes to work on your hair. You stare at the wall and let out a nervous sigh. 

“That’s cute,” Margot says, “the way he looks at you.” 

“Hm, yeah,” Erica agrees, “he definitely has the eyes for ya.” 

You close your eyes as Margot gently wipes away the make up with a cool cloth from a package. You shrug, trying not to move too much, “he’s nice. He... did all this. Just for me. I... I didn’t ask for it. I’m sorry he didn’t like it.” 

“No, baby,” Nia says, “this isn’t about us. It’s about you. What do you like?” 

You open your eyes again and frown. That’s a good question. You lower your gaze to your lap and exhale heavily. 

“I’m figuring it out,” you murmur, “I don’t... I don’t get out much.” 

“Oh, this must be so exciting for you,” Erica trills, “oh, how fun.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time,” Nia adds, “don’t be nervous. Just enjoy yourself.” 

“Can’t be that hard,” Margot clucks, “on a handsome man’s arm, pretty as a bow,” she cleans her brushes as she talks, “it’ll be a great night. I’m thinking...” she peruses her chest of makeup, “natural tones. A dewy look. Natural, subtle.” 

“Okay, uh, yeah,” you agree, “that sounds nice.” 

“Hmmph,” Erica hums, “she’s a sweetie, isn’t she, ladies?” 

“Nicer than the last one,” Nia cackles. 

You stiffen and shift in the chair. You look at the nail tech then Margot as she compares a tube to your face and shakes her head. You push your lip against your teeth and let it flick out. 

“Last one?” You whisper. 

The women share a look and smile, “well, Mr. Barnes is notorious. Surely, you know.” 

“Oh,” you think of the headlines you scrolled through online, “well, yes, I know. I guess... I didn’t catch what you meant.” 

“Enjoy it. I’m sure you’ll get a few pretty baubles out of it,” Nia says, “and some memories to long for when you’re old like us.” 

“Old,” Margot scoffs, “speak for yourself.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I know. I’m just... another girl.” 

“Oh, dahling,” Margot intones, “but he seems really fond of you, doesn’t he? Maybe he’ll keep ya around a bit longer, eh?” 

You just sit there. You knew better than to believe it was anything but the obvious but it’s still a hard pill to swallow. You stare blindly ahead as Margot remoisturizes your skin. 

“Didn’t mean to upset you,” Margot says. 

“I’m not, I just...” you swallow, “I’m nervous.” 

“Mm, nervous? Well, I think that’s what the bar is for. Erica, fetch some of that rose. She needs a glass, Stat.” 

Your mouth opens to protest but you think better of it. You’ve already caused them enough trouble. You thank them instead and try not to let your shame burn through. They know why you’re there and they’ve left no doubt in you of the same. 

“Make sure to pour me some too,” Margot chirps. 

🃏

You stop after one glass. It makes your inside bubbly and eases the tension just enough that you’re not jittering. You feel better but still not certain. 

The women confirm your fears. This isn’t going to last. It’s not like you didn’t expect as much but hearing it is all the more real. You’re going to have to come up with yet another lie to tell. This one will hurt the most because it will be at least halfway true; you’re still a loser. 

You’ll try to take their advice. You’ll enjoy this night; this once in a lifetime experience. You don’t think you’ll ever be in a casino again in your life. They’re not for you. All of this is just above you. It’s better suited to someone like your sister. You can’t help but wonder why it isn’t Roxie here. 

The clock ticks. Well, not truly. The digital numbers count down the minutes as you linger in the suite alone. The gaggle of women left only a few minutes ago but not without a promise that you’re happy. You are, at least with all they did for you. 

You approach the mirror, almost shying away from your own reflection. You look nice. You might even call yourself pretty. Your eyes look more brilliant with the subtle lining and the precisely coated lashes; not too heavy. And your lips, shiny but natural, your cheeks dewy with a hint of colour to them.  

And the dress. Lavender satin with crystals embedded in the fabric, lines of smaller ones interconnecting the larger stones. You turn and check your figure. You look grown up. It’s ridiculous to think but you do. The heels help, not too high but enough to define your legs. 

You turn and tear your gaze away from the mirror. You don’t want to be vain. Besides, you probably don’t look that good. You just look better than usual. The comparison is enough to skew your perception. 

As you teeter on the heels, waiting, for what, you don’t exactly know. You can surmise what it will all lead to. What he intends. You can’t deny it any longer. A man doesn’t do all this for altruistic mean and even you aren’t that pitiful. Well, you hope not. 

A knock at the door trips you up. Your heart lurches. You’re not ready. But it’s getting late and you know it’s inevitable. You can’t move or speak. You just stare towards the door. 

You hear it open. You blink a Bucky’s shadow appears on the carpet and he strides into your sight. Your eyes meet his and his blue irises sparkle as he sees you. He stops and put his hand to his chest. His forehead lines and he bites his lip. 

“Wow, doll,” he rasps breathily and slowly steps forward, “you look...” 

You press your hands to your sides and give a toothy expression, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. Sweat speckles along your neck as his gaze bores into you. You’re even more self-conscious as he closes in. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. 

“What don’t you know?” He asks as he reaches for you and takes your hand. He draws you near, “huh? Look at you, doll.” He purrs, “you look spectacular.” His other hand grazes down your side and he squeezes your hip as he holds you at arm’s length and ogles you, “mm, damn. You wanna know what I know?” 

You peer up at him from beneath your lashes, “what?” 

“That you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I’m a lucky man to have you walking the floor with me tonight,” he drops your hand and frames your other hip, drawing you to him, “I have half a mind to keep you up in this room.” 

You choke. Your lower lip trembles and you shake your head, “that’s nice but...” you look away. 

“But? You don’t believe me, doll? You think I’d lie?” He challenges. 

“N-no, I didn’t say—but--- before---” you sputter and put your hands on his forearms, “there were others and they were prettier.” 

“Doll, don’t worry about before. This is now. You aren’t them and I’m telling you, you are beautiful,” he trails his hand up and nudges your chin. You look at him again, your cheeks shaking as you try to smile. “Here.” 

He takes your hand, his eyes clinging to yours as he watches you. You can’t look away. Not this time. He leads your hand up his jacket and slips it beneath. He presses it to his chest. You feel the taut muscle beneath and something else. 

“You got my heart racing, doll,” he growls. “That ain’t a lie.” 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Heyyy, i love ur jjk fics so when u posted abt writing for aot i SCREAMED bc ik you'll do it justice 😩❤❤

Do u reckon u could do like a levi post rumbling fic bc i need the confort rn and SO DOES HE I NEED HAPPY LEVI PLSS ❤❤❤🙏🙏🙏

When I tell you I had to write this IMMEDIATELY <3 Please let me know if you like it, this is my first AOT fic EVER

Levi finally getting his happy end with (y/n) after the rumbling

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: When he met you after first stepping a foot at Marley, Levi didn't forget you until the very end. But while he thought you died through the rumbling, he meets you again for his happy end.

Warnings: this is the comfort I needed, I actually had to cry while writing this, not proofread because I wanted to publish this asap

Tags: @sanicsmut begging on my knees, please I hope you like this

You’ve been on his mind ever since he met you on that fateful day at Marley. So gorgeous that he couldn’t take his eyes off you, a smile so sweet it could melt even metal. Yes, you were so different from what he expected to find across that ocean, a truly pleasant surprise to say the least.

“Oh, you are quite small for a grown man!” you commented, giggling so effortlessly that Levi wasn’t able to even react to your rude comment.

“But to be honest, I’m a little small myself. Well, not all of us can be tall, right? Where are you from, stranger?”

“None of your business.”

His voice sounded harsher that anticipated, making your joyful face drop in an instant. Why…Why the hell did it even bother him to see you like that, that sad glow that formed in your eyes?

“I’m not from here”, he added.

“Oh, I see! Don’t worry about it too much, it’s like everywhere else!”

Oh, if you only knew how wrong that statement was.

His eyes landed on your right arm and the star that covered the sleeve of your blouse. Why would you wear such a badge? Upon closer inspection, he noticed your shattered clothing, the hem of your earth coloured dress completely torn.  

Before Levi was even able to react two men ran into you, forcefully pushing your body into the dirt of the streets.

“Get out of the way, scum”, one of them hissed towards you.

Anger rose inside his veins immediately. You were just standing there, minding your own business. Why on earth did they push you?

“Watch your step”, his voice suddenly called towards the men.

“Please, it’s alright. Don’t get into trouble because of me.”

And then your hand rested against his shoulders, making his heart beat so loud that Levi swore you could hear it. What was this? Why did your little innocent touch turn him all flustered?

Something about you just seems different. No, despite the fact that it is so wrong, despite being here only for a mission, his mind wanders to you every free second.

Even though you might be dead by now.

“I will leave after tonight”, he announced into darkness, your moonlit features making it hard for him to focus on staying serious.

Your lip began to tremble, glossy eyes darting towards him.

“What? But why do you have to leave? You just arrived…”

“I came here because I have a mission to accomplish, (y/n).”

“But you will return when you’re done, right?”

The hopeful tone in your voice killed him from the inside. Oh, how much he wished he could just take you with him, how much he’d love to have more time with you. But this is simply not possible.

His cold eyes glared at you through the darkness, desperately trying to keep his composure.

“I might never return to this place, (y/n).”

You felt like someone pulled the ground from beneath your feet. Within the last few weeks, you learned that Levi’s hard façade isn’t more than a trick. No, in fact, he carries a character made of pure gold.

You started to like him.

“Then I’ll find you wherever you’ll go.”

And you did. You never missed to write him letters. Levi can’t help but wonder how you did that, your elegant handwriting following him through the darkness of the night, lighting up his mood despite the situation he’s in. Yes, he looked forward hearing from you every single day.

Until the rumbling started.

Until he didn’t receive any letters from you anymore.

It broke his heart, waking up from his coma with all that was on his mind being your stunning smile.

“Did I receive any letters from her?”

“You mean (y/n)? No, not until it all started. She lived in the northern area of Marley so it’s very likely that…”

His heart shattered into a million pieces, dead eyes staring into the distance. Your beautiful smile, that promise you gave him the night before he left. The thought of you getting trampled to death…

“Don’t say it.”

“Hey, maybe she did it somehow. (y/n) is a smart woman. I’m sure she found a way out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, shitty four-eyes. She’s dead.”

He has seen it all, countless people died in front of his very own eyes. Why would it be different this time? Why shouldn’t you of all people be taken away from him? A little spark of luck, a minor ray of sunshine in this sheer darkness.   

He leans back in his wheelchair, darkness consuming him all over again. You deserved so much better, your whole life was still ahead of you. In a world that never wanted you, you always kept your smile as bright as the sun. Despite the fact that they treated you like the dirt underneath their feet, despite how poorly the circumstances were, your smile beamed brighter than anything else.

“What would it give me to burry myself in sadness? I only have this one life, why not making the best of it?”

The best…

“Fuck!” he cries out, slamming a nearby book against the wall in frustration.

Why you? Why out of all the people, you are the one who had to lost her precious life? He never had the chance to tell you how he feels, how you turned his world upside down, that he survived for you.

Dear captain Levi (I love to call you that),

How are you? I hope your mission is going well and that you’ll return soon. I have some exciting news to share with you! After working so much over the last few weeks, I was finally able to buy myself a new dress! Although I wanted to get a white one because I know you love the colour, I bought a dark green one in honour of you. When you come back, we’ll be matching!

I miss you and our conversations late at night. Please tell me you and the others are okay.

In love,

(y/n)

That dark green dress he never got so see, the joy you fuelled inside of him despite being hundreds of miles away from him. God, how much he misses you. How much he fucking misses talking to you through the darkness of the night, to hear from the world through the unwavering veil of your optimism. What would he give to stretch out his hands after you for once, holding you tightly against his chest? It truly kills him from the inside, knowing he will never be able to hold your hand or kiss your lips tenderly, that you’ll never tell him old fairy tales anymore.

You were special. An angel in a world full of devils. Your word alone should have been enough to end every war in the blink of an eye. It definitely was enough to end the war inside himself.

“Captain Levi, will you assist me?”

“Stop calling me that, Onyankopon”, Levi mumbles, silently following the taller man into the heart of the city.

The war made the remaining 20% realize how precious being alive is only after their lives hanging on a thread. While the others carried on with their lives, Levi himself got stuck in this cursed city, the city he last saw you in. Returning to Paradis would mean giving up on you, giving up on the spell you put on him. And he simply can’t take it. Even though the whole town got destroyed by the merciless feet of titans, despite numerous people telling him than no one was able to escape, he always looked out for that dark green dress you described to him.

“Thank you”, a little girl giggles at him, eyes widen at the delicious sight of the lollipop in her hands.

All he can do is stare at the ground in front of her tiny feet with empty eyes. How nice it must be to have something to hold onto in times like these, after losing everything and everyone.

“Hey, can I get another one?”

“Don’t get greedy, young lady!”

That voice, that angelic voice almost reminds him of you. How long has it been since you last spoke to him? So long that the sound of your speech slowly fades in the back of his mind.

But that woman, that woman almost sounds like you. His gaze wanders up her dirty shoes, the hem of her green dress…

A green dress. Dark green, to be exact.

“Levi?”

His eyes widen, his heart stops beating.

No, this can’t be. Is it a dream?

“Levi Ackerman? Is that you?”

His gaze darts towards your face, time stands still. Your facial features, your joyful eyes. It’s you, it has to be you. Without any doubt.

“(y/n)”

He can’t catch his breath, his orbs lingering over your delicate figure, your dark green dress.

That dark green dress.

Before he can stop himself, his eyes get glossy. It is really you. You’re standing in front of him, uninjured, just like you did before.

“Levi!”, you cry out.

In the matter of seconds, you kneel in front of him, hungry arms holding onto his frame for dear life. Oh god, how much you prayed to see that man again, how much you longed to finally be able to hold him in your arms.

“I never gave up hope. I always believed in your abilities and that you’ll return to me someday”, you mutter against his chest, your salty tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

“I thought you were dead.”

His voice isn’t more than a fade away whisper, hand running through your soft hair. He always wondered how it would feel against his fingertips. And now you’re here. In his arms, alive.

You are alive.

“I’m fine. I did leave this town just in time because I wanted to see you again. It was a close call, I almost got crushed but…I made it. I couldn’t leave after telling you the fairy tale about the fox and the rabbit, right?”

Silent tears stream down his face like a waterfall while you cry rivers against his chest. His whole life Levi was haunted by loss and grief. As if he was cursed, everyone around him seemed to die in front of his very eyes. Just after letting himself fall, after trusting someone, after gifting them his feelings…They just lost their lives like flies.

But you’re safe and sound, you look just like you did in his memory.

“I love you, (y/n). I should have told you this way sooner and I did all of this just to return to you.”

Your heart sinks in your chest, body overflowing with feelings. Without thinking twice, you press your lips against his scarred ones, letting yourself sink into his lap while your hands hold onto his face for dear life. This man right in front of you, the man who never left your mind, the man who risked his life to save yours. He survived. He survived and came back to you just like you always dreamed of.

“I love you too”, you shriek, smiling at him so widely with tears overflowing in your eyes that you make his world whole again.

“But as you see, I’m not the man you met back then…”, he begins, looking down his disabled body.

You shake your head vehemently, gently taking his hands into yours.

“All I see is the man I love and waited for”, you reply.

You wipe away your tears and a trail of snot in the most unladylike and precious way Levi ever witnessed before standing up and straighten your skirt with trembling hands.

“So now, what do you think? How do you like my now old new dress?” you croak.

You twirl around, making his life complete. This. This is exactly what he fought for, why he never gave up even after Hange dedicated her life. You standing in front of him in that dark green dress, smiling widely after he told you that he loves you.

This is all he ever wanted.

“You look lovely. Absolutely lovely, (y/n)”, he replies.

And for the first time since forever, a genuine smile is formed on his face.  

[dellalyra]

Family Formation Part Two

Summary: the first years take a shopping trip, and Megumi calls you mom. Satoru is a little shit, but the best dad.

CW: Motherhood, pregnancy, swearing, talks of menstruation, dad gojo, intense sweetness

A/N: I absolutely did not expect part one to blow up like that but I’m so happy it did!!! I’m gonna turn this into a mini series but pls beware it’s not gonna be in any kinda order, just snippets of you and Gojo’s little puzzle piece family. Comment if u wanna be tagged in future parts!

Part One

You sit in your office on campus, about to finish up to go meet your husband for dinner with the kids (they’re your students, but really, they’re all your kids). Just as you stand up from your desk, the door opens and in walks Megumi, hands in his pockets and radiating teenage angst and uncertainty.

“Hey honey.” You say, slipping your purse over your shoulder, “did Satoru send you to walk me across campus again, because if he did, next time you have full permission to smack him across the head and remind him his wife is a special grade sorcerer too - just because his spawn is currently living inside me doesn’t mean I can’t walk.” You knew your husband meant well, but since your pregnancy was discovered he had all his students on Guard-My-Wife duty when he himself wasn’t available.

“He did, but actually I was going to come to talk to you about something… I have a favour to ask you.” He says as he takes your purse off your shoulder to carry it himself (you know there’s no point in arguing with him, he’s as stubborn as they come and almost as protective of you as Satoru). He’s kicking his shoes against the floor and suddenly he must think the strap of your bag is the most interesting thing in the world. You knew these signs, after 10 years of raising this boy you knew this was him feeling uncomfortable to talk about something.

“Of course, sweetheart - what do you need” A quick squeeze of his shoulder and a small smile reassuring him is spread on your face as you coax him into telling you.

“So eh, do you remember when we came to you and Satoru and you took us shopping and we got stuff and then you showed us both how to make our beds and showed Tsumiki how to braid her hair and all that stuff?” He could barely meet your eyes, this boy was so emotionally constipated you were never sure how he got any words out.

“Of course I do! I remember setting up your room, and we got that sweet nightlight that had the moon and stars for your room and a cloud one for Tsumiki - do you need them? I think they’re in the garage somewhere I can get Satoru to -” you were cut off mid sentence by him.

“No it’s just that, today I saw Itadori in his room and he had no sheets because the only ones he had were being washed and then Nobara is, eh, dealing with some - on her, eh, it’s her time” (you could see him floundering and flushing at trying to tell you Nobara is on her period, so you thought you’d save the rest of his face from becoming the same colour as Itadori’s hair).

“Okay so Yuuji needs bedsheets and Nobara is on her period - is that the issue, honey?” You ask, trying to figure out why you needed to be involved, apart from maybe a quick store run.

“It’s that and like, Nobara keeps getting cuts on her legs after she showers and Yuuji didn’t know what conditioner was so I thought maybe, since you were able to, yaknow, sort things out for me and Tsumiki you might be able to help them? It’s dumb, nevermind, they’re fine. They can figure it out. I’ll walk you to Satoru.” He scratched the back of his neck, turning to walk out the door. But it had all clicked in your mind, what he was hoping you would do.

“It’s not dumb, sweetheart. It’s really sweet, I think I know what you mean and how I can help. So, let’s get to the common area, I’ll text Satoru to pick us all up some food and we can all eat in the dorms together tonight, okay. But first let’s get the other two and we’ll drive to the store, yeah, we can get some things there and also - this little one is telling me very sternly I need to eat some Smokey bacon chips.” You grabbed his elbow, knowing he’s probably FAR too old to let you grab his hand like you did when he was 6 but still wanting to give him the smallest hint of physical affection and guidance since you knew what he asked if you took every ounce of not-fainting-from-embarrassment he had in his body. He was, in his roundabout, beat around the bush way, asking if you’d play mom to his friends who are either completely without family or miles and miles from home at only 15.

After rounding up Yuuji and Nobara and settling them into the back seat of your car, with Megumi up front with you, you drive off. As you get there, you see Nobara clutch her stomach a tiny bit, noticing the symptoms of period pains from a mile away - even with it being 6 months since your last one (thank you Satoru and baby).

“Boys, go find me Smokey bacon chips please, Nobara, will you help me find some baby clothes?” You shoo the boys away, giving you and Nobara some space for girl time, or what you hoped she would come to think of as mom and daughter time.

“Okay so, while we look at these, I noticed you’ve some cramps, have you got pads or tampons and stuff? Some painkillers, a heating pad?” She flushed as you ask, but you knew with a girl like Nobara who eerily reminded you of a mixture of you and 15 year old Shoko, would much prefer a straightforward and direct approach.

“Um, I have some pads sensei but to be honest, they’re kinda annoying for training and missions but, I don’t understand how tampons work like I mean I’ve tried so much but I can’t get it right. I didn’t know what painkillers to use so I snuck one of Gojo-Sensei’s migraine meds, which helped but also made me sleep for 12 hours.” She rambled on, in typical Kugisaki fashion as if these period related things were personally attacking her and she wanted nothing more than to smack them down. You guided her to the period products and told her to get what she needed, get some new razors with aloe strips and all other things she could need that her mom would usually shop with her for, and you’d give her some tips on tampons when you all got back to the dorm, you also told her that if she ever wanted to go shopping with you that you’d love that, to which she hastily agreed with and pointed out that desperately needed some new bras and you arranged for next weekend, adding in that you’d pop into some baby stores and let her go wild on some clothes so your kid could be ‘as fashionable as Aunty Nobara’ which made her jump with glee and talk about how she’s definitely going to be the coolest aunty because you’re gonna be the only other positive influence on the kids life because ‘Megumi has a stick up his ass, Itadori is a moron and Gojo-Sensei is a cringey dumbass, no offence I know he’s your husband, but you and I gotta make sure this kid doesn’t end up like them.’

You soon found the boys and shoved Megumi and Nobara off to find an assortment of candy your husband had text he wanted when you informed him of the store trip and your conversation with Megumi,

“Yuuji, honey, while we’re here - do you need anything? Some new clothes, towels, bedsheets? Satoru is paying.” You didn’t want to just drop Megumi in for telling you the things he did, so you tried to be inconspicuous with your guidance.

Yuuji sheepishly listed off some items he needed, as you picked up some new sheets for him, asking if he was too old for Spider-Man sheets to which he vehemently disagreed because he thought they were the sickest sheets and got the matching comic strip lamp to go with it. Yuuji never failed to bring a smile to your face, being the ray of sunshine he is, his thoughtfulness evident as he took the cart from you and even offered to carry you around the store because he ‘didn’t want you to get tired because sensei you’re GROWING A PERSON LIKE WHAT’.

In the car on the way back, as the kids poked fun at how much had been spent on their teachers card (it was a black Amex, it wasn’t even going to make a dent on the finances), you insisted the kids stop calling you sensei and call you Y/N instead, you never liked being ‘Sensei’ anyway.

Pulling up to the dorms, you open the trunk and everyone starts taking their bags from the back. Satoru swans out the door and dips you into a kiss which Megumi cringes at, Nobara and Yuuji squeal saying how sweet it is, and you return with enthusiasm.

“Well there’s the world’s sexiest momma to be!” He says spinning you as you giggle and he pecks a small kiss onto your belly. “It’s okay baby, daddy’s here now, no more boring Megumi to deal with okay, he’s going to turn out exactly like your Uncle Nanamin if he doesn’t lighten up! Maybe he just needs a kiss too!” Your husband tries to kiss the raven haired teens forehead but quickly gets smacked away and grumbled at with some choice words you’d usually scold him for using.

“Did you guys buy out the store? Which bag has the mochi?” He starts rummaging through the bags, pulling things out until you grab his hands and place two boxes in them which he immediately opens while

You move to take a bag in each hand until Megumi and Gojo grabs them from you.

“Ah! No lifting sweet pea! That’s why we’re here, you’re carrying precious Gojo cargo in there.” Satoru says as he pokes your belly.

“You shouldn’t lift heavy stuff like that, Mom, you’ll hurt yourself, plus Itadori can probably carry all this stuff in himself.” Megumi adds, in a rare occurrence of him agreeing with your husband.

You fully expected Yuuji to run to grab as many bags as he can handle from the trunk after this comment and carry them and probably you inside with a smile and a gentle but loud ‘I got this Sens-Y/N’ and Nobara to chuck the rest of her bags at your eldest son.

But it never came.

You just saw two jaws hanging on the floor, staring between you, Megumi and Satoru.

Megumi just made a judgemental face at his classmates and Satoru just stared at them as if they grew two heads.

“You two okay there?” You ask, jokingly checking their temperature with the inside of your wrist.

“Fushigoru - Fushigoru you said - you, what?!” Was all that came from Itadori before Nobara burst out with,

“You just called her Mom!”

A look of realisation flashed across Megumi and your face, they had never heard him call you mom before, something he’d been doing since you patched up a swollen fist after a fight at 11 years old with dog print bandaids and a soft kiss to the bruise.

Megumi fought the flush on his cheeks and rubbed the nape of his neck.

“So? That’s what you call a woman who raises you, dipshits.” This only seemed to confuse them more.

Gojo just stood back watching the scene through raised eyebrows and a little smirk.

“RAISED YOU? What?” The two other teenagers burst out with questions and sheer confusion, as Megumi silently pleaded to the gods that they would shut up, but instead got help in the form of you and Satoru.

“Satoru and I have been raising Megumi and his sister since he was 6, and that’s why he calls me mom, and why we never said this is our firstborn, because Megumi and Tsumiki were our kids first.” you said pointing between the three people you mentioned.

“How could you not know? Can you not see how much my darling eldest son adores his dearest beloved Papa?” Satoru says scooping Megumi into his arms who proceeds to flail about like he’s being kidnapped by a curse and say how he has never called him that ever and never will.

While your boys were busy teasing and arguing, you turn to the other two who were watching everything unfold in disbelief.

“One of the other reason I fucking hate being ‘Sensei’, because I’m also your best friends mom, not just your teacher - and I’m here for you kids too. For anything, okay? Satoru too, even if he acts like an ass sometimes. ”

You lead them both inside, knowing the scuffle between your son and husband will take some time judging by the swearing from Megumi and the cackling laughter for Satoru.

“Megumi, take it easy on dad, he’s growing old and feeble.” You shout over your shoulder.

“But if he calls you mom, why doesn’t he call Gojo dad?” Itadori asks.

“Oh he does, just not around you guys. He doesn’t want you both thinking he’s the favourite because we raised him. He gives him a Father’s Day card every year and Satoru texts him ‘goodnight kiddo,’ every night and used to sit in his room in our house for hours after we moved him into the dorms. But don’t tell him I told you that - and don’t tell Satoru. He’ll just milk it for months, and they’re both bloody useless with emotions. Nobara, pass me the smokey bacon chips will you, please honey? Let’s all watch a film and eat before I make your sensei drive us home to our house. Do you guys wanna have dinner at our house on Saturday? You could stay over?”

Taglist: @sassy-cat-in-town

[tojisun]

Riffing off of 141 coming home without Johnny.

I feel like it’d also be heartbreaking if instead of fully breaking down at first you have a moment of, oh my god are the others okay? Kyle are you okay?. Then it hits. Do they have his body? Where is he? Can you go see your Johnny? Are you even allowed to? Bonus points if the last time you properly talked to them before they all left you had a small argument with soap as he was leaving out the door.

HELLO

oh my god the questions. asking if you are allowed to see your spouse; ready to beg if they say you aren't. and the—

"your johnny." just how he always playfully calls himself, yeah?

he says things like, "won't you kiss yer johnny?", "won't you hug yer johnny goodbye?"

promises things like, "yer johnny's gon' come back, bonnie. swear on m'life."

you always did tell him not to bet it all on his life, grumbling as you tell him to take that back because you are superstitious and you've long since learned to avoid the insinuation, lest your words unfurl into realities.

then here, right now...

god YEA YEA I GET YOU!! i added these tags in my prev post—

but holy shit thinking about how the shock is put on halt because you want to take care of kyle first. how the devastation did not even settle in yet as you grapple with the intensity of your worry.

you paw at the others, trying to pull them close — trying to feel them because that is the only way you will ever know that they're alive too — and when they press in, when you feel the brush of kyle's breath on your cheek and price's callused palm rubbing your back and simon's warmth on your side, the ache sinks in.

it spreads all over your chest, chilling the pathways of your nerves until you feel like you are suspended; like the rest of the world has frozen over.

"kyle, i'm— i wanna see— i wanna see jo—"

god, you can't even say his name.

also? are you tryna kill me with that last one? "bonus points" ON WHAT? THE WHUMP SCALE? THE ANGST EXAM?? BC UR PASSING IT W FLYING COLOURS

im gutted so hard oh my godddd

i just know you (reader) won't be able to forgive yourself; won't be able to sleep at night. hell, you can't even stay in the same house anymore because it's so full of johnny and his smell and even the phantom sounds of his laugh. and his room was still unmade and you are so afraid to walk in and see it the same way that he left it — with his clothes on the floor, his extra pair of boots flung around, and there on his bed post was the scarf from a random girl he met at the bar.

you know he wouldn't cheat so why did you keep on insisting? why were you lashing out?

why did you—

"sometimes, i don't think you even truly love me."

why did you say that to him?

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hi Fen! Its Mushi, your biggest fan xoxo Can I request a cute and fun late night drive with Cecil?

MUSHI, I LOVE YOU, OF COURSE YOU CAN! <3

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: You go on a late night drive with Cecil.

Warnings: swearing, kissing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 589

Cecil is beyond excited, practically vibrating in the driver's seat next to you. 

He’d managed to save up enough money from his new part-time job to buy and fix up this car. (Plus Harry had gifted about $250 and he’d sold a little weed on the side.) 

Technically, other than some test drives, this was the first proper outing in the vehicle. He’d been over the moon when you’d agreed to come out with him. And even more so when you hadn’t questioned his ability to actually fix the car. You’d just been as excited as him.

It’s late, the point of the drive was nothing more than just mooching around. He’d stopped at a drive thru about half an hour ago and bought you, ‘whatever your heart desired’, and then refused to let you even put a cent towards it.

“I think I might paint her.” He grins, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the road. You could tell he was on his best behaviour, not even sparing you a glance even when you were waiting in the drive thru line.

“Her?” You laugh kindly.

“Yeah, I think she’s a her.” He rubs the steering wheel affectionately. “Don’t you?”

You pat the dashboard. “Hmm, yeah, okay I think you’re right. She’s a she.”

Cecil nods approvingly. “My little girl.” He grimaces as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

“Ew!” You burst into laughter. “Never say that again.” “I don’t.” He pulls a face, “fuck, I feel dirty now.” 

You snort. 

He leans close to the wheel and whispers. “I’m sorry.” 

“She forgives you.” You smile at him and he grins. 

“You’ll have to name her.” 

“Me?” 

He nods. 

“Why me? You did all the work, shouldn’t you have the honour?” 

“Nah, want my favourite person to name her.” 

“I’m not Harry though.” 

For the first time in the drive, he actually spares you a quick unimpressed look. “You, dummy.” 

You giggle. “What if I name her something stupid?” “Like?” 

“Like… Cecil-ina, or something?” “I think that’s a great name.” He says pretending to be serious. 

“Okay, what about Cecil’s Cunt?” 

He sniggers, trying not to dissolve into a fit of laughter. “If you want.” 

You shake your head, pretending to stare dramatically out of the window as the world rushes by. “This is too much, I don’t know if I can deal with this weight on my shoulders. “ He smiles. 

“Okay, I’ll think of a name.” 

“Good.” 

“What colour are you gonna paint her?” 

“I dunno… just thought… something else? I mean, I need to go over the paintwork anyway. This kind of silver feels very 2002, in like, I remember my Uncle having a car this colour in 2002.” He nods knowingly, but you’re not quite sure he’s even certain of what he knows. 

“You should do tiger stripes.” 

He giggles. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” “Okay.” You laugh, “You can’t just agree with everything I say!”

“Why not?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” You smile.

“I think it’s fun.” He nods to himself.

“Yeah?” 

He nods again. “Yeah, I get to agree with the smartest and best person. I’m happy all around.” 

You tut playfully. “You keep talking like that and I’m gonna have to kiss you.” 

He pauses, then quickly spots a place to park, pulling to the side and turning off the car. He looks at you eagerly. “You are the most wonderful, kindest, brilliant-”

You press your lips hurriedly to his to shut him up, smiling as he wraps his arms around you. 

Thank you for reading!

[humanpurposes]

My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part vii (final)

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // this godforsaken mess that you made me

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut

Words: 9k

A/n: Sorry it's been a month since I updated this but we made it to the end!! Just wanna say thank you to everyone who's followed along, liked, commented on and reblogged this series, I've been so overwhelmed by the amazing responses to this, just all the love 🖤 Also available to read on AO3.

It’s easy to forget just how fucking freezing King’s Landing can be in December. She pulls her leather jacket a little tighter around herself but there’s not much she can do about the cold stabbing at her legs through her fishnets— why the fuck had she worn a mini dress in the first place? It falls a little higher up her thighs than she wants it to and the bust just doesn’t fit quite right, but she supposes she has to commit now. She at least counts herself lucky that it’s not snowing.

She looks down at the pavement as it moves underneath her black boots. There’s her second mistake— one cocktail past her usual limit. Now she feels aware but somehow numb. She finds wonder in everything around her, the glare of colourful lights on the outside of the bars they rush past, the pulsing of music from every direction, the smells of smoke, vapes, and that distinct, sharp scent of winter.

She had met Baela, Rhaena, Jace and their friends at a pub near the train station. Being the last to arrive, she sat at the edge of the table. It wasn’t a big group but that only made her more nervous. The other girls introduced themselves as Coryanne, Jeyne, Jess and Floris, all beautiful, all dressed immaculately. She told them her name and they said a unanimous “hi!” but other than that it was hard to talk to them while they gossiped about people she didn’t know and reminisced memories she had no part in. Even Jace was distracted; he was clearly all over Coryanne and spent the entire evening trying too hard to make her laugh.

So she kept ordering cocktails, a different one each time, downing them in quick succession and waiting for the evening to pass.

She keeps telling herself this was a good idea. She needs the distraction, anything to get her mind off the obvious.

The others are all walking ahead of her, and she has to keep sight of them because she has no idea where Dracarys actually is. Baela keeps looking over her shoulder every so often, to check on her she assumes. She gives her a nod and a polite smile, but when Baela turns around, her face falls back to a comfortable frown. She doesn’t mean to look miserable, but she can’t help it. It must be so obvious that she doesn’t belong with these people. She’s just a stray they’ve picked up out of pity.

They turn a corner and suddenly half the street is taken up with a queue of impatient looking people, all in smart shirts and party dresses. Baela calls her name and grabs her hand, pulling her along after the rest of their group.

“Surely this isn’t the line for Dracarys?” she says.

Baela chuckles and keeps marching ahead.

They walk along the queue for a good few minutes. Suddenly they reach an old building with columns and a bell tower. It looks like it could be a Sept or a museum, until she registers the glaring red lights, the tall braziers marking either side of the entrance and the neon logo of a dragon against a blue flame.

Apparently tagging along with not one but two Targaryens has its benefits. Baela keeps her close and their whole group breezes past the bouncers without being asked for ID or charged for entry.

“Dad’s a co-owner,” Baela says in her ear as they walk towards the front steps. She can already feel the bass of the music rattling in her chest.

There’s a smoking area at the bottom of the steps, cornered off from the street by tall hedges and iron gates. It’s dotted with mostly pairs of people, each engrossed in their own conversations.

As Baela leads her up the steps she notices a solitary figure, obscured by shadows, leaning against the wall with his back slightly curved and his chin tilted down. He lights a cigarette. The flicker of flame lights up the sharp features of his face and his silver hair.

Fuck.

Aemond’s not even a club kind of guy. He hates the dancing and the “shitty” music. He likes metal concerts and late-night conversations, preferably somewhere you can actually hear the person next to you.

A plume of smoke billows from his lips, and for whatever reason, he glances towards the front steps.

After a double take, his eyes meet hers, wide and curious.

She only realises she’s stopped walking when Baela tugs on her hand. “You coming or what?” she says over her shoulder, trying to keep up with the others.

She can’t take her eyes off him. Of all the places he could have spent New Years, why does he have to be here?

Don’t engage.

His back straightens as he takes his weight off the wall.

Let go.

She shakes her head and snaps herself out of whatever trance she’s under.

She’ll just ignore him. As long as she sticks with Balea and Jace, everything will work out fine. Surely.

The inside of the club is vast like the nave of the Grand Sept. It has a high vaulted ceiling and an enormous stained-glass window on the farthest wall from the doors.

The floor before them is a sea of bodies in flashy outfits, moving in time to a low, synthy song. Colourful lights cut through the darkness, giving the faces an eerie glow. A few groups linger around the edges of the room, drinking cocktails and taking shots in booths around glass tables. At the end of the hall, under the stained-glass window, is the bar, illuminated with red lights.

Baela keeps a tight hold of her hand as they all fight their way to the bar. Someone orders for her and the bartender places a shot glass of vibrant blue liquor in front of her. Rhaena screams “Happy New Year!” as the others cheers their glasses together.

She holds her up to the light before she downs it, wincing at the sickly, sweet and sour tang it leaves on her tongue.

Her heart thunders in her chest, confused by the music and the sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

Aemond is here.

She’s supposed to be ignoring him, and she had been doing a good job of it so far.

Until that fucking call on Christmas Eve.

What did he think was going to happen? Six months of nothing, then one phone call and she was going to come running back to him?  

But she had already proved that she can’t say no to him, the night of the dinner party, while Alys and Cregan were only in adjacent rooms. All it had taken was his hands on her hips, his breath on her neck, a few harshly whispered words and the promise of a quick fuck. It was enough for her to give in, consequences be damned.

She looks back at doors on the other side of the room. She tells herself she’s not looking for a head of silver hair, but it isn’t much good lying to herself. One look at him outside a club and she can feel that hollow feeling in her chest, an emptiness that Aemond has always been able to fill so perfectly.

“How could I ever stop wanting you?”

“I just know these last couple of months have been fucking unbearable without you.”

Would he say the same now?

Rhaena screams again. She doesn’t catch what she says, but the answer to that is evident when Aegon and Daeron materialise from the crowd, hugging Rhaena, Baela and some of the girls. Jace’s face hardens and he puts his arm around Coryanne’s shoulders.

Then Aegon’s eyes come to her. “Fancy seeing you here!” she shouts into her ear over the music.

She can’t stop herself. “Is Aemond with you?” 

Aegon glances towards the door. “He went outside for a fag.” He runs his tongue over his teeth and furrows his brow. “How are things with you and your mum?”

She frowns. “Why?”

Aegon’s eyes widen and he laughs to himself to play it off. “Just asking, I thought things might be a bit awkward what with… everything that’s gone on.”

“Everything?”

He pauses. “Him and Alys.”

“Right,” she says.

He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s looking at her like he’s trying to read her mind.

She hates not knowing what other people are thinking, and it only adds to her growing restlessness. Aemond wouldn’t tell Aegon about them, would he? But part of her thinks Aegon would use the opportunity to be more of a dick about it if he knew.

They find a booth and file in. Jace is clearly trying to avoid Aegon; he sits between Coryanne and Daeron. Baela is polite with both of her cousins and Rhaena is friendly, but maybe that’s just the booze. Either way, Aegon is a charmer, and slots himself nicely beside Floris. Jenye and Jess are all over each other, whispers into each other’s ears becoming kisses to their cheeks, necks and mouths.

She slips off her jacket and sits at the end of the table, alone. It's like being at the pub all over again.

Until she spots someone walking towards their table.

Aemond stops, his eyes only on her. No one else seems to have noticed him yet.

She looks across the table, at the only empty space left.

His chest rises and his nostrils flare. He slowly sits opposite her, keeping his shoulders tense and his hands in fists.

She wishes she had a drink in front of her, if only to have something to do. She moves between having her hands on and under the table, unable to keep her fingers still. She bounces her leg, messes with her hair, tries to focus on fragments of conversation drifting from the others.

Then something brushes against her, under the table. She freezes, but relaxes as she feels Aemond’s leg settling against hers. She glances across at him while pretending to listen to something Rhaena’s talking about. Aemond holds her gaze, leaning against the back of the booth with a solemn look on his face.

She can feel his breath on her hands as he exhales a deep breath.

Baela insists that she wants to dance, and so does Rhaena. They drag Daeron with them and disappear into the mass of dancers. Aemond has to stand to let them out, and when he sits back down his leg brushes against hers again.

It’s so painfully obvious that everyone at the table is coupled up, Jace and Coryanne, Aegon and Floris, Jeyne and Jess. Aemond seems to be trying not to pay attention to any of them. He angles his head in the other direction.

She lets her eyes wander along the tightness of his jaw, the tendons in his neck, and the glint of a silver chain beneath his shirt.

She presses her lips together.

Don’t engage.

Don’t do anything stupid.

But maybe she should have thought of that before the cocktails.

She leans forward on her elbows, but as she opens her mouth to speak, Aemond calls Aegon’s name.

“Drink?” he mimes.

She doesn’t see Aegon’s reply. Aemond’s eyes move over her before he stands and heads towards the bar. Suddenly her leg feels cold at the absence.

A particularly loud giggle catches her attention. She looks down the table. Aegon is leaning into Floris’ ear with a dark look in his eye and she’s smiling, but he’s watching her. His eyes flicker over to the bar, and he grins.

Fucking pricks. The pair of them.

Only when she stands up does she realise how dizzy she is, but she ignores it, and makes her way through the crowd until she finds Baela, Rhaena and Daeron. She grabs Baela’s hands, less dancing, more stepping and swaying to the music.

But she keeps ending up turning her head towards the bar. It’s easy to spot Aemond, he towers over most of the people here, his silver hair gleaming under the red lights.

“I didn’t know they were going to be here,” Baela shouts into her ear, “it’s not too awkward is it?”

The music doesn’t make sense to her. It’s just noise. Everything is just frantic noise, and she can’t stand it. She feels restless, and so fucking angry. She wants to dig her nails into her palms. She wants to cry. She wants to scream.

“It’s fine!” she shouts back, “So fucking fine!”

She looks back to the bar. Aemond is at the front of the queue now.

“I need a drink,” she says, not loud enough for Baela to hear.

His name is a gentle hum in her throat as she gets closer to him, weaving her way through the other bodies in the crowd. She doesn’t care when they tell her to get in line and wait her turn. She keeps her eyes fixed on him.

Until he’s close enough to touch.

She watches her hand reach for his shoulder.

He turns his head around with a sharp look of surprise, but it melts away when he realises it’s her.

He mouths her name but she doesn’t hear it. He brushes his fingertips against the bare skin of her arm and she feels weightless. He’s looking at her. She can feel his heat through his shirt.

Until he withdraws his hand with an irritated huff. He leans into her until their noses are inches apart. Even in the low light of the club his eyes are only marginally blue, and she smells whisky on his breath. “Don’t start this again,” he says over the music.

She scowls until her face hurts. “You called me.”

“And you didn’t pick up.”

Her heart shatters. She thought she had done the right thing, but it seems a common occurrence with Aemond that nothing is ever right.

“It was a mistake,” he says sharply, “a stupid fucking mistake. Just forget it.”

He brushes her hand from his shoulder and storms off towards the front doors.

Panic and confusion courses through her. It feels worse because she’s drunk, she knows that, but it still hurts.

Her eyes start to sting as one song ends and another begins. It’s one everyone in the room seems to recognise.

She fights her way back to the booth and grabs her jacket, slipping it over her arms.

Jeyene and Jess are gone, and Jace and Coryanne have found their way to the dancefloor. Floris and Aegon are the only ones left, her legs draped over his lap.

“Leaving so soon?” Aegon coos.

She doesn’t spare him any of her attention. She tries to spot Aemond as she makes her way to the doors on unsure legs.

What if he’s already left? What if this is it, and he never so much as tries to speak to her again? What if she finds him and he pushes her away?

“Five minutes to midnight, ladies and gentlemen!” a voice booms through the speakers. Moving through the room is like swimming against the current as more people make their way to the dance floor, but she manages to make it to the doors.

The cold air hits her suddenly. It burns in her lungs and bites at her skin. The front steps and the street below her are quiet now, and so is the smoking area. Save for one person.

Aemond sits on a bench, hunched over himself, flicking his lighter, but never lighting a cigarette.

He looks up when she stops in front of him, his lips slightly parted, the red lights casting shadows in the angles of his chin and cheeks, and his nose.

“Are you seriously running away from me?” she says.

His mouth is in a thin line. He keeps flicking the lighter open and shut, open and shut. “You seemed happy enough avoiding me before.”

“Before? Before what? Before you left me in a hotel room?”

Aemond groans and rubs his fingers over his temple. “I’m not sober enough to have this conversation.”

“No, you’d rather ignore me for the rest of your life.”

“Look, I just want to go about doing things the right way—”

“I think we’re way fucking past that now.”

He groans. “What do you want me to do then?” he says, his voice laced with spite.

“Take some fucking responsibility!” she cries, louder than she means to.

He takes her off guard when he stands and steps into her. She takes a step back, and he keeps walking, until her back meets a wall. “And what does responsibility look like, hmm?” He places a hand beside her head leans in further still, until all she sees is the furious look in his eyes. “I called and you didn’t pick up. I try to keep my distance and look at you, you’re still practically begging for my attention.”

“Once,” she utters. “You called me once in six months.”

“And if I had tried before, after the dinner, after I left Alys, would you have listened to me?”

Her head lolls into her shoulder. All she remembers of that day is her mum, screaming and crying, storming upstairs and slamming her bedroom door. She stood there, in the kitchen, hands shaking, tears streaming down her face and her heartbeat pulsing in her head.

Her entire world had come crumbling down. Her mother hated her, and she was going to have to break things off with Cregan, and Aemond was gone. If he had called her then, she doesn’t know if she would have been able to manage a single word.

“No,” she says.

Her heart leaps as he takes her chin in his fingertips and tilts her gaze up to him.

He looks down at her with challenge, his eyes squinted slightly, lips in a smug pout. “What do you want me to do? How do I make this right?”

Her hands press against his chest, hypnotised as it rises and falls with each breath he takes. Then her eyes move to his mouth, that perfecting fucking mouth— it’s her favourite feature of his, she decides, the telling twitches of his lips and the way they feel against her skin.

Aemond clamps his hands over her wrists. “See?” he says in a low voice. “You think you’re so righteous, so perfect, but you’re just too fucking needy.”

She surges into him, grazing his lips with hers before he pulls away.

He keeps a tight grip on her wrists, and stares at her with wide eyes.

Only for him to come crashing into her, returning the favour with his own harsh and bruising kiss. He’s desperate and unforgiving, cupping her face with his hands so she has no choice but to let it consume her.

And she lets him. She lets him graze her lips with his teeth, slip his tongue into her mouth and steal the very air from her lungs.

The faint but familiar taste of whisky burns on her tongue. It’s thrilling and grounding all at once.

When they finally part from each other, he rests his forehead against hers. They glare at each other as they try to catch their breaths.

She can still feel the beat of the music from inside the club, and a voice over the speaker, gearing up for the countdown for the New Year.

“I meant it when I told you I loved you,” she says. “It’s not how I wanted to say it, but it was the truth.”

Aemond takes a harsh breath and runs his hand over his forehead, through his hair. “I can’t do this now,” he whispers.

She leans further into the wall, only to find she can’t get away from him. She pushes against his chest, but all her strength is gone.

Aemond takes a small step away from her. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not thinking straight I…”

She doesn’t listen to him. She can’t, not past the pounding in her head, the retching feeling in her stomach and the crowd inside the club as they start to chant.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“You must have known how much you meant to me,” she says. Her voice is clear and her tears are effortless.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“And what did you do with it? You left me with nothing…”

“Four! Three! Two!”

“You showed me something I’ve never known and then you took it away, only to drag me back in…”

The world erupts around them. Every single voice in the city screams as midnight hits, fireworks and flares soar into the sky and burst with colour, light and noise.

“And I feel so stupid because I let you do it. But I still don’t understand… why do you have to be so fucking cruel? What did I do wrong?”

Aemond looks back at her with a face of agony. Flashes of green, red and gold glisten in his eyes.

“I thought I mattered to you,” she says.

“You did. You still do.”

Her head must be about to burst. She chokes on a sob and cradles her head in her hands.

She keeps her eyes on the floor as Aemond steps into her, and when he wraps his arms around her, she doesn’t have the energy to pull away.

“I’m so tired.” She says it over and over again.

There doesn’t seem to be a moment where they make an agreement, but she lets Aemond pry her hands from her face and lead her onto the street. He tucks her jacket tighter around her arms while he mutters about how cold it is.

She doesn’t feel the cold against her skin, but she can feel herself shivering and her teeth chattering.

A car pulls up to the pavement. Aemond opens the rear door and ushers her inside. It’s warm inside, and the seats are soft. He sits beside her and she falls into him. She closes her eyes, letting the motions and the hum of the engine lull her to a place between waking and sleeping.

Aemond’s gently shakes her awake when the car stops. Wherever he’s brought her, it’s quiet, and once the car disappears down the street, it’s almost silent.

Something cold lands on her cheek. She brushes it away and it melts under her fingers. She looks up, at heavy snowflakes against the streetlights, blinking them from her eyes as they fall.

Aemond takes her hand and she holds it tightly. The dusting of snow crunches under her boots as they walk, a short way along the street and up a series of steps. He doesn’t let go of her as he takes a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door.

He marches her up a seemingly endless number of stairs before they come to a corridor, and another door. It’s dark on the other side, and it smells like him.

She blinks as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. Tall windows make up most of the outer facing walls, and King’s Landing lays out before them. They must be on the outskirts of the city, given how quiet it is, but she can see everything from here, the lights on Conquest Street, the silhouettes of the Red Keep and the Grand Sept, fireworks and lanterns, and the void that is Blackwater Bay beyond the docks.

Aemond leads her through another door. She winces when he turns on a light, but as her vision starts to settle, she realises it’s a bedroom. She’s drawn to the bed like a magnet, collapsing against the duvet.

“Shoes,” Aemond says.

She kicks her boots off and tosses her jacket on the floor. She curls her face into the pillow. It occurs to her that she hasn’t taken her makeup off, but she’s too tired to really care.

Aemond won’t let her sleep yet. He hands her a glass of water and waits for her to drink a few sips. Then he takes it from her and hands her a t-shirt.

“No…” she drawls, falling back against the bed, “wanna sleep.”

“Please,” Aemond says softly.

She drags herself up, fumbling to undo the zip on her dress. She pulls it over her head and rids herself of her bra and fishnets and lifts her arms up for Aemond to help her into the t-shirt. That smells like him too.

“Better?” he says.

She won’t give him the satisfaction. She crawls underneath the duvet, and by the time the light switches off and the door closes, she’s already half asleep.

The first feeling that hits her is a dull ache pulsing in her head.

Then comes a dry feeling in her throat.

Then a nauseating kind of hunger.

And then dread.

Her eyes dart open; it’s still dark in here, wherever here is.

She looks down at the Pink Floyd t-shirt hanging off her. It’s too broad in the shoulders to be hers.

Her lips feel strange. She trails her fingertips over them and squints, just makeing out the shape of her dress and her boots on the floor.

The memories start to fade into view, like a fog lifting from her mind. The pub, the club, the loneliness, and Aemond…

“Fuck,” she hisses.

She’s still a little dizzy as she drags herself from the bed. She finds her phone in her jacket, on the last legs of its battery. 8:55, 1st January glares up at her on the screen, along with texts and missed calls from Baela, Rhaena, Jace and Alys.

“Fuck!”

She grabs the glass of water on the bedside table and treads softly along the hardwood floor, to the door.

She hovers her hand over the handle. She’ll have to come out eventually, might as well get it over with.

The bedroom leads out to an open living space she doesn’t recognise in the slightest. In the corner there’s a kitchen and a small dining table with four chairs, then the rest of the room holds two sofas, a coffee table, a record player, plenty of bookshelves and by the window, a desk and a prayer plant with a ribbon tied around its pot.

None of the lights are on and from what she can tell, Aemond isn’t even here. The room is lit only by daylight. Beyond the windows, the sky is a dull grey and King’s Landing is covered in snow.

Nothing about the apartment is disorderly, expect perhaps for the extensive collection of shoes and coats by the door, most of them black with the odd item of brown for some variety.

The only photos on display are on the desk. One is of Alicent and Helaena, both in pale blue jeans and white blouses, with gentle smiles their arms around each other. Another is of Aegon and Daeron sitting by the pool at Dragonstone. The final one is of an arched, stone bridge, which she recognises immediately as Roseroad Bridge in Oldtown. It’s lined with statues of famous Maesters, Steptons and members of the Hightower family, and she walks along it every day to get from her apartment to uni.

He has his own place now then. She wonders if he moved in right after he left Queen’s Park.

She resists the urge to run her fingers along the desk, or over the closed cover of a notebook and the ink pen beside it.

Her head snaps towards the front door as it unlocks. Aemond walks in with snow on his jacket, a brown paper bag and two coffee cups in a drinks holder.

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Morning,” he mutters, closing the door behind him.

She slowly makes her way to the kitchen as he unpacks the bag— eggs, a loaf of sourdough and some cherry tomatoes.

He looks up at her, and places one of the cups in front of her. “Oat, vanilla latte.”

“Thanks,” she says. It’s not quite as hot as she would have liked, but she’ll forgive him on account of the snow.

“Sit down,” he says, nodding to the dining table. “Won’t take me long.”

He plates up scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on toast and they eat in silence. After that he quietly clears their plates. She wonders if he’s scared of making too much noise.

Then he comes to sit back down, with a fresh glass of water and painkillers for her.

He sits rigidly against his chair, with one hand on the table and the other in his lap. She’d bet anything his fingers are restless under the table.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

She considers for a moment. She’s starting to feel somewhat closer to normal, but the panic has yet to wear off. “Fine.”

She glances around the room. “This is nice,” she says.

“Rhaenys owns it. She let me move in at short notice.”

“After…”

“After I ended things with Alys.”

She hums distantly, folding her arms and crossing her leg over her knee.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says.

“Which part are you sorry for?”

He angles an eyebrow at her. “All of it?”

She pouts her lips in irritation— a habit she picked up from him.

His mouth quirks. He clears his throat, takes a sip of his coffee and, by the look of it, struggles to swallow it.

“I’m sorry too, for being so careless,” she says.

“No, I should have left once I saw you.” He presses his lips together and taps his fingertip against the table, three times. “And I’m sorry for calling you on Christmas Eve. I don’t even know what I would have said.”

Her heart sinks, but she reminds herself that’s what she should want. “Just a stupid mistake, yeah?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Did I really say that? It was actually highly premeditated.”

“Why?” she asks with more disgust than she means to.

He gestures with his hands, as though it should be obvious. “I just wanted to hear your voice again.”

The tension fades from her face. She feels the pull, the hope, the way it crushes her and makes her feel lighter. That’s all she had wanted, as she watched the phone ring, for him to want her, and then she could allow herself to want him back, even though it always ends in misery.

She can still remember what he looked like when they were at Dragonstone, that quiet, reserved kid who spent more time reading than he spent talking. She remembers how excited she was whenever their eyes met or she spotted him sitting alone. She remembers that day he showed her around the house and the gallery. She thought he was going to kiss her then, but he never did.

Maybe he never cared. Maybe was just using her. Maybe she was nothing but another body to fuck.

That doesn’t explain the small things. The hours he spent studying with her, the nights they stayed up talking about anything they could think of, his attentiveness for details, her coffee order, her favourite songs, the way he celebrated her happiness and read her like a book.

“How did we end up here?” she says, “how did we make such a mess of this?”

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach for her hand, but he stops himself. “I had such a crush on you, when you came to Dragonstone you know,” he says.

“You never said anything.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t think you liked me.”

She tries to laugh but it comes out as a breath. It seems like such a simple misunderstanding for all the pain it has caused.

“I just remember thinking that someone as wonderful as you would never want…” he absentmindedly brushes his fingers along the scar over his eye. “I was different back then; I still had a lot to learn.”

“Aemond,” she says, drawing his eyes back to her, “I thought you were wonderful too.”

“Oh.” He stops himself from smiling and ends up twisting his lips and sticking his chin out in an awkward expression. “Look, I’ve had time to think, and talk this through—”

“With Aegon?”

“And Helaena.”

She tries not to roll her eyes.

“I think I owe you an explanation,” he says.

She leans back in her chair and raises her eyebrows.

Aemond draws his tongue between his lips. “I tried not to think much about you after Dragonstone. You were just Jace’s cousin, I didn’t think I’d have a reason to see you again. And then I knew that first night with Alys was a bad idea. But everything was happening with dad and Rhaenyra, mum was still upset about Storm’s End, and it was just after Harwin got sick… it just happened.”

“Good for you,” she grumbles.

“I’m not trying to play a sympathy card, I just want to tell you the truth,” he says. This time he doesn’t shy away from reaching for her hand. She doesn’t move, and watches as he settles for just resting his hand over hers. “I never meant for things to go as far as they did, but I needed a way out. I needed to get away from my family and Targ Corp. Alys gave me a purpose outside of all that.”

“So you used her?”

“Yes. And she got something out of it too.”

She doesn’t argue against that.

“I don’t know I thought maybe I’d be over how I felt about you. We were just kids, it had been a few years, but then I saw you… and you were perfect. Nothing could convince me otherwise.”

Guilt twinges in her chest. “It wasn’t just you,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“I kissed you first.”

He tightens his hold of her hand. “But I still wanted you. And we worked it out so well, I just thought we could keep going as we were.”

“Until I fucked it up.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“I did though. I should never have said…” her eyes are starting to sting at the memory. Sprawled out on the bed, naked and not quite satisfied. The empty feeling in her chest as he left her there.

“I couldn’t take me eyes off you at the wedding,” Aemond says. “And then you had one conversation with that Stark kid, and I was losing my fucking mind. I knew why it bothered me. I know how I felt, no matter how I tried to rationalise it. I knew how I felt about you. I always knew.”

She blinks and two tears trail down her cheeks. She can’t manage any more than that.

“I panicked. I didn’t know what it would mean if you felt the same. It just became too real, I—” He exhales heavily, and runs his hand through his hair. “I know this is my mess. I should have stayed away from Alys. I should have been honest. But at the time, it just felt easier to just… let everything happen.”

She had never seen Alys cry as much as she had, that morning when she told her the truth.

“What did you say to mum?”

“After the dinner party? She’d had a horrible night as it was. She said she wished I had defended her more against my parents. I said she should have known what was going to happen before she invited everyone over and that she should stop trying to get involved in my life.”

“Can’t imagine she took that well.”

“I ended up telling her I had rethought my priorities. I couldn’t be what she needed. I said I’d leave Rivers PR and try to patch things up with my family.”

“You didn’t tell her about us though.”

He swipes his thumb over her knuckles. “I didn’t know if you would want me to.”

She takes a shallow breath. “I told her. After you left, I went downstairs and told her everything.”

“What did she say?”

Sometimes she still has nightmares about that morning. She stands in the kitchen while her mother just screams at her.

“She was so angry. It was understandable, I guess, but we barely spoke until I went to Oldtown.”

“You’re at the university?”

“Yeah. She said Oldtown sounded like a good idea. Lots of distance, far away from her.”

“And how has it been, being back home?”

“We talked about it. I think we both realised we didn’t want to lose each other over some stupid guy.”

He half smiles, and exhales. “She called me in September,” he says. “It must have been after you left. She just said she knew. She said I was ‘sick bastard’ and that I should never speak to either of you again.”

“That’s fair,” she says. She takes a sip from her coffee and it’s cold.

“I’m sorry, for everything,” he says. “And you don’t have to forgive me, I just wanted you to know.”

She nods with the smallest movement of her head.

Aemond slides his hand away from her. He leans over his elbows and taps his fingertips on the table again.

She keeps her eyes down as he clears up the coffee cups and follows the sound of his footsteps as he walks to the kitchen, then back to her, hovering over her shoulder.

He takes a slow breath.

“Whenever you’re ready, I could drop you home.”

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Or if you want another drink, or a shower, or anything…”

She lifts her head and turns herself around to face him. He looks so tired.

“I’ll take you up on a shower.”

He leads her back to the bedroom, handing her a towel from a cupboard, and through to an ensuite with dark tiles on the walls, ceiling and floor, and a shower cornered off from the rest of the room by a glass screen.

She hangs the towel on the back of the door while Aemond runs the water, testing the temperature with his hand.

They turn back into each other.

A hazy cloud of steam fills the room. Aemond’s skin glistens, beads of water and sweat forming along his brow and his neck, but she keeps her gaze on his eyes.

She’s not sure who moves first, but they drift into one another, until their lips meet in an effortlessly delicate kiss.

But it quickly leads to something more intense when she pulls the t-shirt over her head and slides her panties down her legs.

Aemond groans lowly, pulling her into him by her waist, tracing his hands along every inch of her body he can reach. He kisses along her cheek, neck and shoulder as she teases the hem of his t-shirt and his toned stomach underneath.

He moans into her mouth, and she delights in it. “Whose needy now?” she asks sweetly against his lips.

He tears his t-shirt off in one quick movement and surges into kiss her again, cupping and kneading her breasts and her arse.

Then he takes her hands in his, and brings them down to the fly on his jeans.

She grins as he presses his forehead against hers. They both watch as she slowly undoes the buttons and hooks her fingers around the waistband.

She keeps her eyes on him as she pulls his cock free and comes to crouch in front of him, smiling at his clenched fists and tight jaw. He’s already half-hard as she starts to stroke along his length and runs her tongue along the underside of him.

She misses the weight of him in her mouth, his fist in her hair, his praises and the noises he makes as he spills down her throat, but before she can even place her lips at the tip, he drags her up to stand.

“Daddy—”

His usual commanding façade falls to something softer. “No,” he says, “just use my name.”

“Aemond,” she sighs.

He gives her a smug smile and reaches for the side of her neck, tilting her gaze up. “You still on the pill?”

Her breath hitches. “Yeah.”

“Hmm, good girl.”

He walks her into the shower, putting her back against the wall. Her back arches at the cold and the sensation of Aemond’s hands on her hips as he starts trailing kisses down her stomach. He pries her knees apart and teases the sensitive flesh of her thighs with his lips and tongue, edging closer to her cunt.

He must be feeling merciful and doesn’t waste too much time before drags his tongue through her folds.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “missed this perfect pussy.”

It would be embarrassing enough how quickly she comes on his tongue, but what’s worse is just how many times Aemond draws climax after climax from her, circling his tongue over her clit, fucking her with it, then replacing it with his fingers.

Her legs tremble as she feels her slick trickling down her thighs, but he doesn’t need her to stay standing for long. He comes to stand hitches her legs around his hips.

With his face buried in her neck he lines himself up with her entrance and slowly pushes himself inside of her.

She hisses and tugs on his hair at the stretch, but the pain doesn’t last long as he starts to rut into her.

“’m not gonna last long,” he says against her skin, panting with the effort as he picks up his pace.

But she can feel just how responsive her body is to him, just how much she’s missed the feeling of him, his cock dragging through her and hitting that perfect spot deep inside her.

She moans his name and holds him tighter, pulling him closer, urging him deeper.

Her orgasm is a wave of warmth, a soothing relief that just keeps going as Aemond continues to fuck her.

Until his hips still and she feels his cock throb inside of her. His voice is somewhere between a groan and whimper as he comes, and it sends another thrill down her spine.

Carefully, he lowers her down to stand on her own legs, keeping hold of her waist as warm water cascades over their bodies. His eyes don’t stop moving over her face, and she can’t stop touching him, threading her fingers though his hair, feeling along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and his lips.

He turns her around. The cap of a bottle clicks and he lathers shampoo through her hair, then tilts her head back to rinse it out. Next, he coats it in conditioner, and keeping her back against his chest and his head over her shoulder, he washes her skin with a lavender body wash.

Then he pushes her into the wall by the base of her neck. She braces herself by her palms as he takes a delicate hold of her throat and fucks her again. He reaches deeper from this angle, bullying against her sweet spot.

Aemond keeps a steady pace and kisses the back of her neck. “Tell me you missed me,” he says.

“I missed you,” she utters, “missed how good you make me feel.”

“Hmm, missed being my good little slut?”

She tries to say it back, but all she manages is a throaty moan as she comes undone around him.

Then he washes the conditioner out of her hair like it’s nothing.

After he’s dried her off with the towel, he carries her back to the bedroom and lays her out on her back.

He’s insatiable. He fucks her again with their foreheads pressed together and their lips barely brushing over each other. Every brutal snap of his hips is another step towards a burning oblivion, and his pace barely falters as he positions her legs over his shoulders.

She can feel herself twitching and clamping around him, the coil in her belly tensing and tensing until it’s almost unbearable.

Aemond presses his teeth together and hisses like it hurts. “So tight,” he whispers, “my good girl, so fucking tight.”

“Please,” she utters, “Aemond, I wanna come,”

He frowns in mocking sympathy and grazes his lips over her the sensitive spot on her neck. “I know you do, baby, I’m close too, just hold out for me a little longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, barely a breath, and she says it over and over again. She closes her eyes so she can lose herself in it all, his cock dragging through her, the wet sounds of sex, the smell of sweat and lavender bodywash, his nose pressing against her cheek as he turns into her, his breath over her mouth, his desperate moans and whimpers…

Her orgasm rises and comes crashing down, until her skin comes alight and her body starts to tremble underneath him.

Aemond lets out a guttural groan as he comes, stilling his hips against her, pushing in impossibly deeper as a warmth floods through her.

He lifts his face to hover over hers. His hair is still damp and so is hers, leaving a cold patch on the pillow that makes her shiver.

Aemond leans on one hand over her and brings his thumb to her bottom lip to pry open her jaw.

She sticks her tongue out, ready and waiting as he trails a slow line of spit into her mouth.

“Swallow,” he mutters, and she does.

He smiles vaguely as takes her legs down from his shoulders and pulls her to sit up, cupping her face in his hands and leaning in to kiss her lazily.

This is how things were supposed to be, she thinks, winter mornings wrapped up in each other, her body settled in a perfect state between bliss and numbness.

Suddenly he’s moving away again. “All fours,” he says.

She rolls over her side and props herself against the mattress on her hands and knees.

Aemond keeps a punishing grip of her hips as he slides his cock into her sensitive pussy, fingertips digging into her flesh as he pulls her into him with every thrust.

It doesn’t take long before her arms feel weak and her wrists start to ache. “Aemond,” she whines, “please, please…”

Aemond pulls her against his chest as he keeps pounding into her. One arm wraps around her shoulders and her chest, holding her against him while his fingers pinch at one of her nipples. His other hand snakes down her body to play with her clit.

“Mine,” he groans against the shell of her ear, “you’re mine and you love it. I’m never going to let you go, never.” As harsh as his voice is he sounds desperate, pleading.

She holds her arms over the arm keeping her in place, helpless to do anything but cling to him and just take it.

She’s lost count of how many times he’s made her come, and this orgasm tears through her suddenly as a broken cry sounds in her throat. She digs her nails into Aemond’s arm to take the edge off as white-hot pleasure surges through her.

Her mind is completely fucked out. Aemond lets her fall back on the bed and spreads her legs, trailing his thumb through her soaked folds and his cum as it dribbles out of her.

And he slips into the bed beside her, pulling the duvet over their bodies and holding her close.

“I might need another shower,” she says.

Aemond huffs a laugh and presses a kiss to her temple.

It’s cold but she drags herself from the bed and goes to the ensuite to sort herself out. She runs herself another shower and brushes her teeth with a spare toothbrush she finds in a basket under the sink.

And when she comes back into the bedroom, Aemond looks at her with a dazed smile and a look of wonder in his eyes. She practically runs back to join him, wrapping her arms around his torso and tucking herself under his shoulder to rest her head over his heart.

“There was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he says.

She doesn’t reply but he knows she’s listening.

“I’ve been talking to mum and Otto, and I think I might take him up on that job offer at Beacon.”

Her heart beats a little faster, in time with his. Dread pools in her stomach again, eased by the afterglow and the satisfied ache between her legs.

“We’d both be in the same city, away from our families. I could get my own place.”

“And?” she utters.

“We could start over. We could try to make this work.”

Away from his parents and Targ Corp. Away from Alys. Away from the city she’s been trying to run away from.

“I think mum would kill me,” she says.

Aemond shrugs. “She wouldn’t have to know.”

“So what, we go back to keeping secrets?”

“No,” he says, turning on his side to face her. He places his hand on her neck, caressing his fingertips over her skin. “No, that’s the whole point, we wouldn’t have to hide anything in Oldtown. It would just be me and you.”

She meets his suggestion with silence.

“You don’t want to,” he whispers.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she says, propping herself up and resting a hand on his chest. “But we’ve made mistakes before. I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

Aemond’s expression shifts. His mouth tenses and his brow furrows, not quite angry, but hardly innocent.

“I understand,” he says, but she’s not sure she believes him.

She pulls herself away from him and swings her legs over the side of the bed, placing her feet on the floor. “I think you should just take me home.”

They fall back to silence. She slips into her dress and her jacket, stuffing her fishnets in her pocket because she can’t be bothered to put them on. She makes sure she has her phone and her keys, and waits for Aemond by the front door.

He’s not far behind her, appearing in a white knit jumper and a pair of blue jeans.

The streets are almost empty, and a good thing too because the roads are thick with snow. Aemond drives slowly and cautiously, not that he’s ever been an especially reckless driver.

The Bluetooth on the car picks up her phone automatically. She tuts as a Lana Del Rey song plays through the speakers.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, reaching to turn to audio off.

“No,” Aemond says, holding his hand over the button. “I like this song.”

She withdraws her hand and tries not to smile. “I fucking knew it. You’re a secret Lana fan.”

Aemond huffs a quiet laugh. “I just appreciate good music. Ultraviolence is a modern masterpiece.”

The weather gives them a reason not to talk for the rest of the way. She keeps her eyes ahead, pretending to be enchanted by the snow, but she keeps stealing glances of him, with minimal movements of her head so as not to draw his attention. She watches his hands as they grip the steering wheel, his legs as he presses down on the pedals, and his face in the reflection of the windshield.

It takes twice the amount of time it should for them to reach Queen’s Park, and he pulls over a few houses before hers.

Once they’ve stopped Aemond sighs and runs his hands over the wheel. He leaves the engine running to keep the heating going.

She eyes the door handle and her fingers twitch.

“When would you be moving to Oldtown?” she asks.

“I start at the end of the month. I’m trying to find a place before then.”

“Right,” she says.

She looks further down the street, but the house is hidden by hedges. Alys should have come straight home after her gala. Most days she’s an early riser, and she doesn’t tend to overdo it on the drinks when she’s working— which to her, is almost always. She’s probably in the kitchen, trying to figure out where in Seven Hells she ended up last night.

She looks back to Aemond. He’s watching her with wide eyes.

“I have my thesis due at the end of the term, and exams after that. I’ll be pretty busy,” she says.

He nods and peeks his tongue between his lips. “If you need anything,” he mutters, “you can call me, anytime.”

“Thanks.”

“And, you know, if you ever change your mind…”

“I’ll call you.”

The possibility seems more and more likely the longer she looks at him.

But she pushes open the car door before she does something stupid.

She follows the footsteps already laid out in the snow. It must be a good few inches of snowfall; the prints are set deep. Thank the Seven she’d chosen to wear boots and not heels.

“Wait—” He doesn’t need to say it loudly, it’s quiet enough that she hears him, even when he barely utters it.

She turns as Aemond slams the car door shut and closes the distance between them in a few strides.

“What?” she utters.

Aemond nudges his nose into hers and cups her cheeks in his hands. Her skin feels like ice against him. Warmth blooms in her chest, and suddenly she’s able to forget that she’s standing out in the snow, in a black mini dress and a leather jacket.

He tenderly presses his lips into hers. They kiss like it’s their first times, with slow and cautious movements. More than anything she just feels the shape of his lips and lets them rest against each other.

This time, when she pulls away for a breath, and those careless words come out of her mouth, barely above a whisper, he doesn’t break away from her. He doesn’t abandon her. He says it back.

It’s terrifying and grounding all at once.

She crashes her lips against his to kiss him properly, tugging at the collar of his jumper and running her hand over the pulse point of his neck.

She knows she can’t lie to herself. As soon as January is done, she’ll find his name in her phone. She’ll say she missed him. He’ll tell her he loves her, and she’ll say it back. Time will tell if it turns out to be a bad decision.

“I don’t think my life makes sense without you,” she says against his lips.

Aemond smiles, with a gentle curl of his mouth and a look of intense excitement in his eyes. “I know, baby. I know.”

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3 @okfashionista @khaothick @babygirlyofthevale

[unusuallysubtext]

If you're still doing the Sherlock life thing, I'd love it if you could sort me :D

I'd prefer to be in a romantic relationship with a man

My love language is mainly physical touch and words of affirmation. I usually wear comfy clothes that have a funky pattern or something I just find cool (kinda like street style). I have short brown hair that I usually just leave messy because I can't be bothered to sort it out lmao.

I spend my days usually just hanging out with people I care about, or playing games on my phone. I enjoy logic puzzles and I'm good with numbers (I have a streak of over 1200 on sudoku). I study History and Philosophy because I've always been interested in those sorts of topics and I love discussing these things with people and seeing their different points of views and opinions on topics.

I love doing crafts in my spare time as well, I crochet, I draw, I can paint decently well, and I love sewing. I usually make little trinkets, sew clothes or draw bugs or skeletons or smth, anything I like the look of tbh.

I hope this is enough information, thank you do much :D

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock first saw you when you were being escorted far away from the scene of a presumed murder

You protested and explained that you were simply trying to draw a replica of the skeleton found seatbelted inside a Prius, but to no avail

On his way out of the crime scene, Sherlock approached you as you sat on the curb kicking rocks, drawing what you could from memory

It was at that point that you accompanied Sherlock Holmes and John Watson to every single case, working on sketches

Your eye could capture details that a camera couldn't, defining characteristics that Sherlock could later read on

One night, late after a case, you sat on the sofa of 221b with a progressing crochet project when Sherlock flopped down next to you, legs outstretched over your lap

Although you were caught by surprise, the two of you spent the next few hours simply hanging out

You spoke of various philosophers and history, knowledge of which Sherlock possessed none

He listened intently to you, understanding why your sketches were so much more lively and telling than a clean shot of photography

Together, you made a great team, seeing things from one another's logic

You were chill, automatically rubbing off on Sherlock and keeping him in check, and soon enough, simply chatting on the sofa late at night turned to laying next to each other and even falling asleep

The first time John came down and saw Sherlock asleep at nine-thirty in the morning, he was jumping with joy (silently), ever grateful the detective had found someone willing to match his freak, as the young people say

He secretly enjoys your comfortable, baggy street-style clothing, a fresh change in his everyday dark block colour polyester/cotton blend button-ups that hug his figure, whether it's (trying to) try it on or simply keeping it with him

And if you're with him, there is no doubt he will hold you close, arms wrapped around you at night, or simply sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the sofa ❤️

-

hope you liked it, anon! tagging @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @that-ace-idiot @the-girl-who-simps-too-much

Your Sherlock Life asks are still open!

[lucagray813]

A Need to be Better - Chapter 2

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 3,602

Characters: Mei, Macaque, MK, Wukong

Relationships: Mei & Macaque, MK & Wukong

Summary: Mei is determined to be ready for whatever comes next and Macaque is going to help her whether he wants to or not!

Additional Tags: Mentor Macaque

CW: None

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter: 2/2

Chapter Navigation: 1 | 2

----

"Alright Shīfu, lay it on me! What's the plan?"

Macaque quirked a brow at the title but seemed to decide it wasn't worth commenting on. Instead, with a somewhat worrying grin, he said, "First off, why don't we set the tone for the day?"

With a snap of his fingers, Mei suddenly found herself staring at a blackboard from her new seat at the school desk that had materialised from the shadows. She stared uncomprehendingly at the ancient Chinese that covered the blackboard for a moment before the horror of the situation caught up to her.

"No! I did my time! You can't make me go back!"

This was like something out of her nightmares! She should have known that he was capable of something this sick and twisted!

But while she'd been manhandled into the chair, no shadows held her down, and while she thrashed about pitifully, she made no move to leave.

Macaque simply grinned, apparently pleased by her anguish.

Turning and gesturing to the board, he explained, "Today, we will be discussing your lesson plan. And at the end, you can decide if you want to take it or leave it. But keep in mind that this is your only option if you want me to train you."

She took a moment to lament her position before she resolved herself to focus. This was just to go over the plan, after all. Surely, this whole classroom get up was just a bit?

God, please let it just be a bit.

Despite feeling increasingly worried about what she might be signing herself up for, she nodded for him to continue.

Bizarrely however, he instead pulled a face before pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan, "Before we go any further, tell me, how do you feel about having classmates for the day? Otherwise I'm going to have to relocate today's lesson somewhere more remote."

A portal opened beside her and an oddly coloured butterfly and equally oddly coloured cat dropped out of it.

Immediately, she was on her feet, "Seriously?! You were spying again?"

A quick transformation from both of them revealed a sheepish Monkey King and an irritated MK.

Monkey King was quick to defended their innocence, "Hey! We were being responsible heroes and making sure that he wasn't torturing you!" He gestured at the setup and added, "And it's a good thing we did because it's even worse than I could have ever imagined!"

MK shot him an annoyed look before turning to her, "I wasn't spying, I was trying to stop him from spying!" He then took a step forward and stage whispered, "To be honest, I think he's a little bit sensitive that Macaque might upstage him as a mentor."

Wukong whipped around, aghast at his student's betrayal, "I am not sensitive!"

His brain clearly caught up with his mouth a second too late and with as much dignity as he could muster in the face of everyone's unimpressed and knowing looks he stood tall and awkwardly coughed, "I mean, I was just worried about Mei! Sorry for trying to look out for your best friend!"

At Macaque's derisive scoff, he turned to glare at him as if this was all his fault.

MK was clearly not in the mood for Monkey King's issues today, and shook his head in disappointment before focusing on her, "I'm sorry about this. I'll get him out of here and you can get back to it."

His comment interrupted the very mature mystic monkey mentor glaring match that was going on. And with a final sneer Macaque walked over and offered, "Or we can just get out of here and remove the temptation for Mr. Sensitive to spy all together."

It was tempting. And not that she didn't trust MK to keep Monkey King away but focusing in a "classroom" was difficult enough without any extra distractions.

So she nodded, "Let's go. MK, I'll fill you in when we get back. Monkey King, find something better to do with your time! God, go to therapy or something!"

His indignant spluttering was quickly lost to the shadows and she took a moment to take in her surroundings while Macaque quietly chuckled to himself.

It looked like he had brought them to some remote mountain range - all she could see for miles around was rocky terrain. And it was eerily quiet, with little to no flora or fauna - the polar opposite of Monkey King's island.

The words boring and depressing came to mind.

Macaque sighed contently and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, "Ah. The look on his face. Priceless. Well handled, kid."

Her desk had come with her so she sat back down with a huff and asked rhetorically, "Why is he like this?"

Macaque shrugged, "Who knows? Maybe someone dropped him while he was a stone egg."

She huffed a small laugh before putting Monkey King to the back of her mind.

Glancing around again, she asked, "Where are we?"

"Just an old haunt of mine back before the Monkey King ever darkened my doorway. He doesn't know about it so we should be safe from any more interruptions."

She suddenly doubted the wisdom of her decision to blithely accompany Macaque somewhere unknown and isolated.

No one knew where they were.

She shook off the creeping dread. She and MK had prepared for this - they had spent all day yesterday making contingency plans on the off chance Macaque showed his true colours.

And, of course, she wasn't going down without a fight.

But for the moment she was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

She tried to find something nice to say about Macaque's former residence, "It's... homey?"

Macaque scoffed at her attempt, "Let's just get down to business."

He flipped over the blackboard and explained, "This is a rough outline of what I've got planned although it is subject to change as I get to know you better and depending on how you progress. But-"

She interrupted him, "Wait, wait, wait! If this is the plan then what the hell was on the other side of the board?"

He grinned, "Oh that? Just my way of having a little fun. Why don't you ask Wukong about it when you get a chance?"

She narrowed her eyes before guessing, "Did you know he was going to spy on us?"

Still smiling, he shrugged, "I knew it was a possibility."

A little incredulous, she asked, "So what? Did you just write out a whole load of trash talk that only he would be able to read on the off chance that he might see it? Dude, you need to get a life."

He laughed, "Hey, I've heard journalling is meant to be good for you. It was cathartic if nothing else. Now, we're here to talk about your issues not mine-"

She muttered, "Thank god."

He ignored her, "-so without further ado..."

Thankfully his lesson plan was more impressive than his "journalling".

He had broken it down into four sections - mediation, strategy, combat practice and dragon abilities. In her humble opinion however, two of those sounded leagues more exciting than the other two.

She was surprised by his proposal for mediation though.

Restraining himself to only being slightly belittling, he explained that he didn't foresee her having success with traditional meditation any time soon. And honestly, she didn't have much room to argue, just the thought of sitting and breathing for any amount of time was almost enough to bore her to tears.

Instead, he suggested she practice martial art forms in a slow and controlled manner, both with and without her sword. The aim was to focus on developing patience and mindfulness but obviously learning new forms would also be beneficial for combat.

While she had some reservations about the whole "patience and mindfulness" thing, form practice was a hundred times better than actual meditation!

Though Macaque made sure to stress that they would be working towards other mindful practices, such as the traditional meditation she so dreaded. But who knew when, or if, they'd actually get to that point so she didn't let herself worry about it.

Next came strategy, and it was easily the least exciting section.

It involved actual book learning, with pre-assigned materials she would be expected to comment on. And on top of that, Macaque would give her scenarios, both combat related and not, that she needed to create successful plans for. Plans that she then had to be able to defend as he tore them to shreds.

Some of these scenarios would take the form of a verbal discussion but unbelievably he expected her to write essays on occasion too.

Petulantly, she had pointed out that MK never had to do writing assignments or homework. But he had just relished in her suffering while reminding her that if she didn't like it then she could just walk away now.

Well, she'd come this far, she may as well see this through to the end at least. The rest of his proposal might win her over yet.

Although he really was doing his best to make combat practice sound as unappealing as possible. Labouring the point that it was going to be task specific - focused on a specific element such as blocking or dodging. They'd also be spending a significant amount of time reviewing her performance post-fight - highlighting areas of improvement as needed.

While she was initially very put out by the very limited nature of combat practice, he finally threw her a bone and told her that they would also have the all-out fight she craved every once in a while too. After all, all of this theory meant nothing if she couldn't put it into practice.

He refused to confirm exactly how often this would be but he advised it would probably be at least once or twice a month.

She was already plotting on ways she could bump that up to at least once a week.

And lastly, was his plan to explore her dragon abilities. He admitted this would be more of an experimental lesson, subject to change depending on what they discovered. But together they would try to uncover the full extent of her dragon abilities and how best to utilise them.

It was possibly the most exciting part of his whole plan but as ever he had to knock the wind out of her sails. Although she was pretty sure he hadn't even meant to this time.

"While I do have some knowledge of dragons, I'm no expert. You, however, are from a long line of dragons. I'd recommend asking about or checking out whatever resources you have at your disposal. If you find anything of interest then we'll see if we can work with it."

If only if it was as easy as that.

Unfortunately, her relationship with her family could be... difficult.

Don't get her wrong, she loved them and she knew they loved her but rarely did they see eye to eye. Her parents, in particular, never approved of anything she did.

And to that end, she hadn't really talked to them about what she had been through since MK had picked up the staff.

She'd given them a basic run down, purposely excluding a couple of important details regarding the Samadhi Fire and the Memory Scroll, and that had been discouraging enough.

Obviously, they were proud of her but they clearly weren't a fan of her being a full time hero. They worried about her safety, of course, but also they worried about how her conduct reflected on them and the rest of the family.

So she had serious doubts they would be eager to help with her training.

That's not to say there weren't other people she could ask but there's no way her mother wouldn't hear about it. She didn't think there was a single soul in any of the dragon clans that would risk her wrath. And not telling her that her daughter had been snooping around behind her back? Oh, it'd be bad for everybody involved.

Especially her.

She hadn't realised how long she'd been silent until Macaque cleared his throat to get her attention, "I really thought my next suggestion was going to be the sticking point... Although maybe the two are related?"

Intelligently, she responded, "Huh?"

He, thankfully, didn't call her out on her lack of eloquence. In fact, he actually seemed to be gearing himself up for what he wanted to say next, "Well... I think it's fair to say that you've been through a lot..."

He coughed awkwardly at her unimpressed look.

At least he had the good grace to somewhat acknowledge that he'd had a hand in that, she supposed. Though she couldn't say that she wasn't looking forward to the opportunity to air out some of her grievances during combat training.

He quickly pushed on, "And that can have a detrimental effect on your progress. So that's why I think that you should consider therapy."

Whatever she had expected him to say, it wasn't that but honestly it was crazy that she hadn't thought of it herself. So after a moment of stunned silence, she responded, "Oh yeah, totally. I am way overdue getting myself a therapist. I guess I better talk to Sandy and see if he's got any recommendations."

Finally, it was Macaque's turn to be on the back foot, apparently caught off guard by her easy acceptance.

She laughed, "Dude, everyone goes to therapy these days! Did you think I was going to fly off the handle or something? Besides, if I go I can probably bully MK into going too because boy does he need it!"

He huffed, "You said it. Well, at least you've got a better chance of convincing him than you do Wukong, that's for sure."

She laughed sharply, "Can you imagine? Honestly, I feel for the poor sucker that landed the Monkey King as a client!"

A surprised laugh escaped him and she had a feeling that any dig made towards the Monkey King was probably enough to bring a smile to his face.

Maybe once she and MK were on board the therapy train they could team up and get their respective monkeys to go to therapy too.

She couldn't think of two people that needed it more.

Slipping back into teacher mode, Macaque picked back up from where he left off, "Well, therapy and dragon resources aside for the moment, that's the rough outline of the lesson plan. As for the schedule..."

A well organised folder appeared on the desk before her and she raised an eyebrow at it before flipping it open to reveal that the first page was the proposed timetable.

At a glance, it looked like he was suggesting training four consecutive mornings in a row and then taking a days break. She was surprised to see that Mr. "I'll work you hard!" had even factored in breaks on training days too.

She looked up as he commented, "Now, this is an area where there is some leeway. I don't know what you get up to during the week so if you're prepared to take this forward then we can discuss when and where we should train."

She turned her attention back to the folder and flicked through it.

She really couldn't get over the fact that he'd put this together for her - it must have taken him hours...

Why go to all this effort?

She wanted to be suspicious but she was finding it difficult in the face of a genuine lesson plan, tailored specifically to her.

This could be exactly what she needed.

Still, she had to ask, "Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged, "Getting to piss off Wukong and increasing my odds of surviving the apocalypse? It's a no-brainer really."

Doubtful, she responded, "Yeah, ok... But this is a lot of effort to put in just to spite Monkey King, isn't it?"

He huffed, "Unlike some people, if I'm going to do something then I'm going to do it right. Which is why it's my way or the highway. So on that note, what'll it be, kid?"

She wanted to say she gave it a lot of thought but the truth was that this was just too good an offer to pass up.

Sure, it was going to be hard and she was going to have to spend a disgusting amount of time with Macaque but where else was she going to find an opportunity like this?

She grinned, "When do we start?"

----

Wukong managed to stop spluttering long enough to gesture at the spot Mei and Macaque had disappeared, "Can you believe those two! The nerve! Where do they get off-?"

"Monkey King."

Oh, that wasn't a happy sounding MK.

Turning around warily to face his successor he was immediately cowed by the disapproval he was met with.

He tried to reason with him, "Now, bud, I can see that you're unhappy but-"

"But what, Monkey King? I told you to leave it but you came and butted in anyway."

Shame and indignation started to war within him and he immediately defended himself, "I didn't "butt in"! I was a butterfly about a mile away! It was Macaque that portaled us into the middle of it all!"

MK was unmoved and his disappointed stare was really starting to get to him. But he wasn't in the wrong here! He had every right to be suspicious of Macaque and he had a responsibility to ensure no-one got caught up in the crossfire between the two of them.

The occasional check in with his golden vision had confirmed that Macaque had spent an excessive amount of time working on this supposed lesson plan and he just couldn't figure out why he was willing to go to such lengths for Mei of all people.

Had they had some sort of serious bonding experience while fighting Peng or something? It just wasn't like him to go out of his way like this for someone he wasn't close to.

Ok, sure, he could very privately admit that he was curious as to how he measured up against Macaque as a mentor - sue him - but that wasn't his primary motivation.

No-one knew better than him how dangerous Macaque truly was and he refused to take the risk that this wasn't all part of some scheme to get to him.

But at the same time, good intentions or not, he had still ignored MK's warnings to leave well enough alone, waving off his concerns while knowing full well he was planning to spy on them.

And that encouraged him to come clean.

"Look... I'm sorry I didn't listen, alright? I know that you're trying to give Macaque his "redemption arc", or whatever, but you have to understand, we've been at each other's throats for a long time. I can't just believe that he's suddenly turned over a new leaf."

MK's expression softened but he still wasn't happy, "Then say that. Talk to me instead of going behind my back. I know you're still getting used to having people around but you've got to be realising that it's so much better when we work together. If you had just talked to me about it instead of going off on your own then..."

He trailed off with a tired sigh and with that shame had officially won out over any indignation. He was supposed to be working on this, to be restoring his faith in him and proving himself worthy of his trust.

Sincerely apologetic, he responded, "You're right, kid. And I'm sorry. I promise I really am trying to get better at talking to you... But I guess I just didn't even think about it this time. I just slipped back into the habit... just like that."

His master would be ashamed of him.

MK took a breath, before offering him a small smile, "I know. Look, we're not going to solve this overnight so how about we have our own training session and then I'll tell you all about the safety precautions me and Mei have set up to ease your concerns about Macaque?"

That caught his attention, "Safety precautions?"

MK walked towards the edge of the cliff as he explained, "We're giving Macaque a chance but we've not forgotten what he's done or what he's capable of. We've got panic buttons, we've got trackers on our phones, and we even found some nifty artefacts in the vault! But most importantly, we talk to each other - Macaque's not going to say a word that the other's not going to hear about. He's not going to be able to manipulate us that easily."

He caught MK's pointed look at the "talk to each other" part and while he had the good grace to be contrite, he was incredibly reassured that they weren't just blindly trusting Macaque.

He couldn't help but grin as he brought a hand to MK's shoulder, "And this is why you're the plan man."

MK shot him a smile before he and Wukong jumped in tandem and took to the skies.

As they flew, he silently promised he was going to take MK's words to heart. If he'd just voiced his concerns earlier then he could have avoided this whole mess, maybe could have even added some safety precautions of his own. He still could when they talked later.

He could only be grateful MK was so forgiving but he swore he was going to prove himself worthy of that forgiveness.

He was going to be better.

--End--

Previous Chapter

LMK Fanfic Masterlist

[callsignangel]

nga yawne lu oer - lo'ak x metkayina! reader

THIS IS ENDING 1/2 FROM MY NETEYAM/LO'AK LOVE TRIANGLE HEADCANONS. READ THEM HERE. word count: 1571 requested by: a lot of people (thank you to those who read part one!) warnings: angst, tonowari being a great dad, a fluffy happy ending a/n: hi friends! since there's going to be two different endings depending on which sully boy you're rooting for, i won't be tagging anyone. that way, you can read a specific ending written especially for you! this was so much fun to write, and thank you for your patience as i've been trying to write this haha. reblogs and feedback about my work are deeply appreciated. <3

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

you had begun distancing yourself from the sully family as a whole, even your other best friend kiri. it was just too much for you to face both lo’ak and neteyam. it hurt you to see lo’ak and tsireya together - laughing, free diving, holding hands, watching her teach him how to be more active with the people of your village so he could finally feel like he was a part of the metkayina and not an outcast. she was finishing what you had started with him. 

eventually, your parents started picking up on your struggle. you weren’t diving as much, you stayed in bed most of the time, and you were quiet when you were helping your mom cook or doing any of your other household chores. tonowari was the first to approach you about how you had been feeling. he could see that you weren’t acting like yourself anymore, and it worried him. it worried them both. your were legs dangling off of your family marui, dancing with the bright coloured glowy fish. deeply lost in thought, he sat down beside you and dipped his feet in too. “parultsyìp, you have been distant lately,” “i know, pa. forgive me.”  you really thought he was disappointed in you and your lack of motivation for your village duties,  but he wasn’t. he knew the pressures of being a child of the olo'eyktan were not easy. “i’m not mad. i’m just making sure you’re okay. it’s not like you to be so solitary,” a lump formed in your throat. you hadn’t spoken about that night to anyone, not even to eywa. he watched your face closely, as you stared between the fidgeting of your hands and the fish kissing at your feet.  “if i tell you what’s been going on, you can’t tell tsireya. it would break her heart,” you spoke finally. tears welled in your eyes, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “are you in trouble? is it that sully boy?” his eyebrows furrowed in concern as his embrace became stiff. you laughed dryly. “it’s both, pa. i love them both, and now i’ve lost them both,” you softly sobbed. “maybe this is a conversation for your mother…” you had never confided in him like this. he was nervous and relieved at the same time.  “no, please… you just have to listen. mom will scold me for even being around lo’ak.” it hurt your heart to even say his name. “they didn’t do anything to you, did they..?” “no, pa. they would never. they’re both good kids. lo’ak’s just.. misunderstood. and i think the pressure to be perfect wears neteyam down, like it wears me down sometimes.” he nodded sympathetically. he admired your heart, always empathizing with everyone in your own way.

before you could continue, the sound of laughter came from behind your marui. you and tonowari looked behind to see lo’ak and tsireya walking by, hand in hand. “hi, y/n!” tsireya greeted cheerfully. when she got a closer look, her smile immediately dropped.  “tsmuktu, what’s wrong? what happened?” he crouched down to get to your level as one of her hands caressed your tear stained face, the other holding onto your hand tightly. you assured her that everything was okay and that you were just tired, but you saw the way your father stared at lo’ak. he finally understood why you had been so downcast. “go have fun, sister. i’ll speak with you later. thank you for checking on me,” you faked your best smile as you released the hand she had a death grip on and ushered lo’ak to keep walking. his eyes lingered on you before focusing back onto tsireya.  you had gone back to focusing on the fish. “i will do better, pa. i promise.” he nodded softly before he pulled your head towards his, foreheads resting against eachother.

slowly and surely, as time passed, you became yourself again. getting up early to dive and hunt, going for your evening walks along the beach during eclipse, even seeing kiri and tuk again. as an apology for secluding yourself from them without explanation, you provided them with gifts. handmade paint made from shells for tuk, and a bag made from woven seagrass for kiri. but of course, being around them also meant you had to be around lo’ak and neteyam. “he misses you,” neteyam said one day. it was a rainy day in the sully’s marui, and you had been over to help neytiri and the other girls with their beading. you stopped working and looked up at him. he didn’t falter, instead kept his eyes on his chores.  “i miss you,” he whispered. “teyam-” you started, but he turned away from you. “i know, i know. i couldn’t not tell you that. he would never admit it, but he misses you more than he lets on. everybody was so confused when he was suddenly with tsireya and not you.” you frowned, everything he was saying suddenly came out of nowhere. “why are you bringing this up now?” you questioned. “it’s okay you didn’t choose me. i’m not mad at you. but i would much rather be your friend than not have you in my life at all,” he turned to look at you, sincerity strewn his face like a veil. he took your hands in his. “lo’ak didn’t choose tsireya. he chose you, and everybody knows it. he’s just a skxawng who feels like he can’t communicate properly because no one will listen to him,” the pouring rain almost drowned him out, his voice was so soft. “but you do. he needs you. go to him, y/n.”

you didn’t have to be told twice. you thanked neteyam quickly, giving him a small kiss on his cheek before you dropped everything to go find lo’ak. the rain was dense and cold, but you couldn’t feel it. this new found fire that spread throughout your body made you run faster than it ever had before. to your surprise, he wasn’t with tsireya at your marui. she was sitting by the campfire stowed in the middle of your living space, wrapped in a shawl. she kept sniffling and wiping her face with her shawl. “reya? what’s wrong?” you dropped to your knees beside her, instantly trying to console her. she shook her head, as if trying to dismiss it. “i ended things with lo’ak. i could tell he wasn’t happy.” you pulled her into a tight hug. “i’m sorry, sister. is there anything i can do for you?” she sniffled again, but this time a soft smile brightened her features. “go get your man,” she giggled.  you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “what?” you giggled with her, nervously. “i’m not an idiot, y/n. go. go!” she urged you, standing and pulling you up with her. she practically pushed you out of your marui. 

you found him by the water, tending to his ilu’s saddle. his hair was wet, and he was shivering. “it’s raining, and you’re outside with nothing keeping you warm,” you startled him, almost making him fall into the water. he was surprised to see you, he didn’t think you would come back around after all of the hurt he caused you. “i don’t have anything. i didn’t think it rained here,” he said sheepishly. “i’ll make you something. it’s the beginning of rainy season, you’ll need a sweater or even a shawl at least for the next 5 months,” you laughed, trying to ease the awkwardness of the conversation. you sat down beside him, watching him try to clean and restitch his saddle.  “you don’t have to,” he whispered. he wouldn’t even look at you. he was afraid he would crumble under your stare.  “i want to,” you whispered back. you placed your hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently. your touch felt like fire to him. it was exhilarating. his eyes watery, he looked up at you.  “i thought i had lost you to him. i feel like i lose everything to him,” his transparency wasn’t foreign to you, but it was good to hear him open up to you again. you placed your other hand in his hair, playing with it in an attempt to help console him. “you’ve never lost me, lo’ak. i’ve been here this entire time,” you whispered. you pulled his head towards yours, softly resting your forehead against his. “i love you. i would never abandon you. i swear by the great mother, lo’ak. i love you, and i see you.” he pulled away from you, a goofy grin on his face. “took you long enough,” he joked, and you rolled your eyes, laughing softly like you always did at his stupid jokes. his free hand rested on your face as he watched you. to him, you were the most beautiful thing on pandora. “i love you too, y/n.”

his hand moved to your chin, using his thumb and his index finger to pull you into a soft kiss. it was quick and chaste, before he shifted back to kiss the palm that had practically glued itself to his face. you pushed yourself forward, your lips devouring his in a desperate attempt to feel him again. there were probably other families watching you both from their homes, but you didn’t care. he was yours, you were his. and nothing would ever come between the two of you again.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

parultsyìp - a term of affection for children tsmuktu - sibling

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC Interview Tag

Thank you so much for the tag, @kaylinalexanderbooks!!!! (here)

I'll go with Nimwen from Of Starlight and Beasts because I don't think I've done one of these for her yet!

Are you named after anyone?

"I was named after my paternal grandmother. My parents' marriage was severely looked down upon by my mother's side of the family, because Dad wasn't of noble birth. They decided to choose the name because it was a nice keeping my grandma's memory alive but also a little bit as a way to stick it to my maternal grandparents. Her relatives never really got over their union, and didn't rest until they got the King himself - who was apparently a family friend - to annul my parents' marriage. Her family then arranged for Mom to marry some random noble from a 'proper House' - despite her protests - and cast my father and I out of their social circle."

When was the last time you cried?

"Hmm. That's uh... quite the question, isn't it? Very personal all of the sudden, y'know (her hands squirm and she laughs awkwardly). Let's just say... I have nightmares, and some of them are more... severe than others and sometimes end up crying because of it. I had one recently. I won't go into detail about the dreams though - that's not for you to know. Only Scarlet knows, and even he doesn't know the extra gory details."

Do you have kids?

"Certainly not! I'm barely a grownup and I don't think I should be left in charge of anyone other than myself - Scarlet is always going on like (she mimics her adoptive brother's voice and tone) 'why don't you take care of yourself?' or 'didn't you think this through before doing it? Again, Nim?', so maybe I perhaps might not be the most responsible person to grace this earth. I know, shocking. (giggles). But in all seriousness, I have far too much going on in my life to even think about something like that in the coming years - unless you count my friend Syp as a kid, because he's the youngest of our bunch and is always following me like a little shadow."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"No, not really. I'm usually too nervous about hurting someone's feelings or being misunderstood in what I'm trying to say or causing a mess, to the point that I somehow end up just fumbling over my words and making a fool out of myself. Scarlet is the king of sarcasm though, he always knows what to say or how to come up with a sarcastic quip at the right timing. I'm not that lucky (laughs awkwardly). He says I'm fine the way I am and that I don't need to change to be like others, but I do wish I was more eloquent like him."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"If they're dangerous or could be a potential threat. I've learned the hard way not to trust too many strangers and still struggle with a lot of... ghosts from my past, per se, looking to strike me down so I've got to be on the lookout for anyone that looks like they could work for the King or the Royal Guard. I also notice their stance and if I can use the terrain around us to my advantage to escape if need be."

What’s your eye colour?

"Dark blue, like my Mom's! I've got Dad's long strawberry blond hair to remember him by though, so that's nice. It's like I've got a little bit of both of them with me at all times - which is comforting, and sad, and a little bit weird. But nice."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Happy endings, happy endings all the way! I hate scary stories - there's enough terror, and gore and violence and hatred in our world, why should we be subjected to those things in the very fiction that is meant to let us escape it? I hate when the other kids in our bunch start telling horror stories when we're gathered around the campfire - it usually leaves me up all night thinking about it! I know this is probably very silly of me. But I still don't like scary stories one bit and I will keep not liking them until the end of time itself because I don't like being scared."

Any special talents?

"I'm very good at hiding - when you're the daughter of someone who was executed for treason he didn't commit, you learn to hide like your life depends on it, because it really does. Scarlet has also taught me how to shoot the bow and arrow, and I'm... average at it. If I really, really focus I can hit close to the target of my choice, or even hit the target itself if I'm lucky, but if I have to do so whilst moving that arrow is missing the target by a mile. I also know how to sew and embroider, as well as play the harp, which are things my father taught me when I was a child and I haven't really done in a while, so I wouldn't know whether or not I'm still any good at it."

Where were you born?

"I was born in the city of Sylla - which used to belong to another kingdom but was annexed by Tirawen around forty years ago. My Mom comes from a long line of Tirawenian nobles, who moved to Sylla when she was a child because they were given land - a lot of land - in the conquered terrioty by the royal family. My Dad came from a local family of much humbler standing, and he'd risen in the ranks of society by pursuing a career as dyplomat. It didn't end well, as you probably already realized."

Do you have any pets?

"Scarlet has a pet hawk called Arrow! I consider it my pet as well. My brother has trained Arrow to carry messages for us and to hunt. Sometimes he also sends it to scout terrain ahead to check if it's safe for us to pass. Arrow is the most adorable, cutest little bird of prey you'll ever hope to meet! He loves snacks and always chirps happily when you pet his feathers!"

What sort of sports do you play?

"Oh, many! The other kids in our little group of 'outlaws' are always coming up with new things to spend our time doing, so I'm never bored! If anything I'm the opposite. I'm also very good at running, climbing and jumping! And as I mentioned I have a passable knowledge of archery."

How tall are you?

"I would say average height, I never really put much thought into measuring my height, but I seem to be somewhere in the middle between tall and short. Scarlet is very, very tall, so I don't think he counts as a comparison, but my height is similar to that of most of our friends."

What was your favourite subject in school?

"... I uh, didn't really get to attend any of the schools and academies of the kingdom. With the whole 'my dad getting beheaded for treason' ordeal happened when I was really young so I didn't really get a chance. But I think I would've liked to attend the royal academies - I used to love books!!! I still do, but there aren't many opportunities to read when you're living in the forests as an outlaw."

What is your dream job?

"Okay, now, don't laugh, but when I was a little kid I used to dream of growing up to be a pirate - I loved reading tales about pirate adventures and the sort, and couldn't wait to see the ocean one day. I even got a cute little pirate costume for my sixth birthday! But I do realize now real life pirates probably aren't really that nice though. Nowadays I would say my dream job is to become something like a physician or an apothecary - I would love to help more people, especially those who don't have the means to afford healing, because the kingdom all too often tends to forget they exist."

Tagging (gently, no pressure):@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @inky-duchess @late-to-the-fandom @eccaiia, @willtheweaver @littleladymab @cabbojage @lassiesandiego @little-peril-stories @oh-no-another-idea @thepeculiarbird @rickie-the-storyteller @crowandmoonwriting @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gummybugg @forthesanityofstorytellers @doublegoblin @aalinaaaaaa @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @elshells @clairelsonao3 @anyablackwood @tabswrites and OPEN TAG

[eris-snow]

𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), izuku x fem!reader,apology kinda?, reconciling, reaching out, plot plot plot plot-

Masterlist

10th July. Waiting. Lurking

---

The shittiest thing about summer, is how the sun rises at 5 in the fucking morning. Morning runs aren’t uncommon, and you have the habit of waking up that early on Wednesdays because Izuku and you used to run in the evening together. Now, he runs alone. 

On the plus side, the morning air is colder.

The sun inches upward at snail’s pace, rays dipped in gold slowly but surely coating everything around in the same hues of yellow. Colour seeps back into your world. Gradually, but inevitably. Izuku is a wrecking ball of vibrancy. You should expect nothing less of the future Symbol of Peace, but you know Izuku would still be like this even Quirkless.

That’s just who Izuku has grown up to be, a cumulation of failures and nail-biting victories. 

He’d always bring colour to your world, even when nothing but grey tones exist.

“Earth to Starlight!”

You snap out of your thoughts the second you bump face-first into someone’s chest. You look up, and you still see grey.

Spikey hair, sharp eyes.

Kacchan.

You turn away, lip jutting out. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’re going to have to eventually,” Katsuki says. Little puffs are exhaled. Standing there in a sweaty tank top and sweats, he looks too innocent for the betrayal you felt.

Right reasons, wrong actions.

Good consequences, bad with feelings.

“Izuku’s gonna remember,” Katsuki says, and if that isn’t a ‘I told you’ so wrapped up in different words, you don’t know what is.

“Why can’t you admit that you did something wrong?” You say, folding your arms. He’s twice your size and you’re clad in nothing but old, ratty workout clothes that are soaked with sweat. You don’t need a uniform for this. “Why can’t you ever apologise?”

“Why can’t you admit I was right?” Katsuki counters. “Izuku got somewhere, didn’t he? He found something.”

“At what cost?” You fire back. “Hospital bills? Who’s going to pay for that? Auntie Inko?”

“You can’t keep treating Izuku like he’s made out of glass.” Katsuki whispers, voice dropping a few decibels. His features soften, like he’s trying to understand. “You can’t play chess without any sacrifices. Sometimes you need to forfeit your queen so that your pawn can promote and win. Sometimes, you need to take risks and feel pain, because that’s the only way you’ll get anywhere.”

You’re not entirely amenable to his way of thinking. Of course you aren’t. As a hero, aren’t you supposed to resolve this in the best way possible? How is the best decision the one causing the one you love suffering?

But so far, this is all you’ve got. It got you somewhere, didn’t it?

“I get it, your way of thinking.” You whisper, eyes cloudy, lip bit in frustration. “I understand it works, even though I don’t like it.”

But…

“My apology,” You say, standing straight and tall. “When the time is right, when it comes the time you mean it, I want a heartfelt apology from you.”

A sigh from Katsuki, mouth opened in protest, in confusion, but you stop midway.

It’s okay to want things. It’s okay to ask. It’s Kacchan, he’ll understand.

“Your intentions are always for the best, but don’t tell me how I’m supposed to feel Kacchan.” You say calmly, eyes flickering to his face. “You took my property and you gave it to someone else. You hid things from me like I was an extra you’d just met a week prior. You doubted me, and that hurt.” You say, letting yourself feel.

It’s okay to hurt, and it’s okay not to be okay with this.

Waves of guilt wash over his face. Not regret, God knows he’d still do it again if he were given 10 thousand tries over. When the time is right, say that you’re sorry.

A crooked smile edges its way on your face as the sun laps your face.

“I deserve that much, Kacchan.”

—

There have been sightings of victims nearing U.A. It’s what greets you in the morning (at a decent time) when you’re catching up on the news while you’re walking to school. For all you know, it might be remnants of the League, even though you’re sure the remaining heroes and the up-and-coming heroes have purged most of them from society. Victims pooled in blood, but never fully killed.

“Victims supposedly wake up unable to feel joy, which is a very peculiar Quirk to be working with. So far, no one knows if that’s the extent of his Quirk, but the police have been working tirelessly to catch him…”

Your blood runs cold, and you’re bolting to class.

Uh oh.

—

“Sensei—!”

“I know, problem child. I know,” Aizawa takes a long sip of his coffee, and looks at you. “The heroes in that sector are looking into it, and they’re right on his trail. With any luck, they’d catch Chisuke in less than a week.”

“He’s targeting Izuku, we need to—”

“No, L/n.” Aizawa cuts you off, looking at you with eyes rimmed with permanent eye bags. He’s a shell of who he was at his prime, but Aizawa’s gaze is strong enough to cause people to cower. It’s a shadow of All Might’s presence, but surviving the war as a hero means something around here. Your homeroom teacher speaks with his eyes, and it’s more than words could ever say.

“They need to. I’d highly prefer you to graduate before dealing with this case.”

“But as heroes, we’re supposed to—”

“You’re related to the investigation. I’d like you to stay far far away from the man, preferably here, in the safety of the school.”

You have to bite back humourless laughter. “If people want to break into here, they would.”

Aizawa gives you a loaded gaze, and your mouth slams shut.

“I mean it, L/n. Focus on your studies and mental health. This case,” He takes another sip of coffee, “is off limits to you.”

There’s a droop in your eyes and a tremble of your lips. 3 years with the same class has him growing a strange parental affinity. ‘I’ll update you on the case if necessary. Now if you excuse me, I have students to fail.” He looks down at the papers, contemplating, before he looks up again at you. 

“On another note, could you please tell Mineta to stop associating circles with breasts? I’d take it out of the test paper, but it’s part of the syllabus. I have no qualms about expelling him right before graduation.”

No answer, no reply.

That’s all it seems like you’re getting these days.

—

“A clearing?”

Your heart plummets, Katsuki snorts, and Izuku’s serious, oh God, he’s serious.

A tucked away haven littered with blue Forget-Me-Nots and a beautiful willow tree you love to climb. Somewhere you go where it’s always illuminated with light, be it the sun in the sky or the moon and fireflies at night.

He knows.

“Take me there.” He breathes, eyes blown wide with determination. Shamrock green pupils and freckles littered across like stars. Features a little more defined, but still soft at the edges; Izuku’s growing up, and seeing him in colour makes you fall in love with him all over again.

Take me, where the grass is always green, where the water always runs clear. Take me, back to our past, to where your memories remain frozen in time.

 Show me who you really are.

The words rest on your tongue. You’re afraid of what may happen if you do, what pain may lie ahead for Izuku if the footholds you give Izuku break off and send him plummeting.

You can tell from one glance that Izuku is still recovering. The way he cradles his head in class and how he’s slower in class. It’s minute, but it’s there.

In your peripheral, Kacchan nods. He knows Izuku’s limits the best more than anyone else in the world, so he thinks it’s safe.

Sometimes you need to forfeit your queen so that your pawn can promote and win.

“I’m free Friday after school.”

The smile Izuku gives you is fairy dust. You float, higher and higher. There’s no way down.

“Deal.”

[justahappycloud]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

i have 16 hi charles fics

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 

298,743! which sounds like a lot!!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

i write for the 1D and the f1 fandom nowadays (i sure like my ones)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"i hate you" is my love language, Station 28, That's why you shouldn't hear other people's conversations, i see your true colours and the lies we tell (are not always what we think)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes! i love replying to comments. might take me some time, but i always do

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

the fic with the angstiest ending must be taste the ambrosia on your lips because although the ending itself is happy there's a loss that still hurts me to this day

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Bulletproof, for sure. it's the ending with the best character relationship redemption arc (?) of all the ones i've written and the one that makes me really happy

8. Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully i don't

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

"fade to black" is my best friend. i don't really like to write smut. i prefer to alude to it happening if necessary for the story, otherwise i try not to.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope x2

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

jejeje. nope x3, although i've had to translate my fics for my friends agesssss ago because they didn't speak english :) but they were definitely not good translations back then aksdjajdh

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i've tried to but sadly i could never make it work

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

i don't think i have a ship to this day that i could describe as an "all-time fav"

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

reputation and the halloweentown series are looking at me right now with such a glare...

16. What are your writing strengths?

uhm..... i'd say i can make good plots? when we talk about long stories. like, they're engaging i think? at least they're interesting enough that they keep me wanting to write so aksdjakjd

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i can't seem to stick to a regular writing schedule, i take TOO LONG to write

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

only if necessary for the character to not understand, but i try to avoid it

19. First fandom you wrote for?

how to train your dragon :)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

haven't posted it yet but i hope i will soon

i tag @enchantedlandcoffee and @wishingforloushair :)

[rainbowrenjun]

15 questions, 15 mutuals

tagged by @boochans (ty!!!<3 even tho it took me like a week lol)

1. are you named after anyone? nope! unless you count the fact that my mom loves british tv so she gave me and brother very british names unintentionally lol 2. when was the last time you cried? yesterday i teared up but i can't for the life of me remember why. if we’re talking a proper cry tho i don’t remember but it couldn’t have been long ago bc i’m a big cry baby like crying doesn’t register as a big deal to me atp like that’s just my life baby 3. do you have kids? noooo omg i’m still trying to figure out how to take care of myself😭 4. do you use sarcasm a lot? idk what counts as a lot but i have been known to be sarcastic 5. what sports do you play/have you played? never been a huge sports person but as a kid i did soccer, golf, and a bit of karate 6. what’s the first thing you notice about people? i’m not sure maybe their outfit? or maybe hair color/style bc that's the easiest way to tell people apart imo 7. what’s your eye colour? light blue 8. scary movies or happy endings? not a big movie person but i’m always down for a good comedy so i guess happy endings 9. any special talents? not that i'm aware lol (unless having such bad adhd that adderall makes me sleepy is a special talent🤔) 10. where were you born? this feels like a security question so i’m gonna keep it vague and say the west (of us america) but i only lived in that town as a baby im not a true West Coaster™️ 11. what are your hobbies? giffing, trading/collecting kpop stuff, video games (esp rpgs!! give me recs if ur into rpgs 👀), writing (fanfic but also original stuff that i can never seem to finish), used to be really into makeup but i fell out of it during the pandemic, reading (i tend to not read for 6 months and then read 300k words in one sitting. all or nothing🫡 also if u read danmei or wlw stuff give me recs:3) 12. do you have pets? yes i have a 6 year old cat (thalia) & a 2 year old dog (mochi)! 13. how tall are you? roughly 5’5 14. favourite subject in school? social studies! 15. dream job? author has always been my childhood dream that's carried into adulthood if i can ever finish a damn novel, but rn i'm trying to attempt college (again) to go into a history related field!

tagging (if u want to ofc :3): @minchanz @mistarover @taeminnomuyeppeo @twiceland @jsuh

+ bonus visuals references of thalia & mochi 🥰

[rayewritesfantasy]

15 Questions

Once again, thank you @thewriteflame

This is the Tynan version of the 15 questions.

Tynan is the second protagonist of my fantasy romance Sea of Stars. A lot tricker than Juliet, but I relish the chance to get inside his head.

Juliet version here:

Without further preamble, here we go.

...

Tynan takes me aback. In the interviews he has appeared in alongside his wife, he was something of an ominous shadow, lurking at her back. As though he dared somebody to be foolish enough to try and offend her.

In person however, I have to keep myself from openly gawking at him. Tall and broad shouldered with a shock of pitch black hair that seems to ripple with his stride where it flows around his shoulders. His skin is ivory pale and smooth as milk. But what pins me in my seat are his eyes. Bright, shocking, blue and focused on me as though I'm being measured up like a side of meat. For all his un-natural beauty, all I really want to do is run away and hide from him.

"Good afternoon." He greets me, Scottish accent so controlled that I can hardly hear it at all.

"Good afternoon. I have a feeling you would prefer to get this over with quickly. May I call you Tynan?"

His very white teeth flash and I can't help but picture them buried in the flesh of something innocent.

I was warned that he wasn't human, nor does he pass for one with much in the way of commitment. But I was not expecting the sheer heart pounding terror he'd bring up into my throat.

"Aye. Ask yer wee questions, an' I'll consider us square. Like we never crossed paths, acceptable?"

I nod, "You have a deal."

He regards me as he lounges back against the chair, "Well then, let's begin, shall we?"

I clear my throat and pick up my pen.

Are you named after someone?

He rolls his shoulders in a great shrug, "Tynan means "Dark" in Irish. I suppose my Juliet chose it because of my hair. Next question."

I clear my throat.

When was the last time you cried?

He regards me with an expression that makes me shrink backwards, "Bit rude to ask that, ken? Next question."

I nod, awkward.

"Um, lets see..."

Do you have kids?

He considers it, "No. My kind aren't parental. Never cared for bairns." His gaze softens, "Juliet has a cute wee neice though. I like her well enough."

I have a feeling he's a little more fond than he would ever let on, but I have zero urge to pry any deeper.

Do you use sarcasm?

He smiles, one of those unnerving ones that makes me flinch a little.

"I find sarcasm fascinating. How to lie, without actually lying, just by using a tone of voice. Would you like to see me use it?"

I nod, unsure why I do. I don't want to see him use sarcasm. I don't want to spend more time than I have to in this closed room with him. Infact, I want to run for the door and call this whole thing off. But I feel like turning my back on him would be a fatal error on my part.

His tongue, which seems too long and also pointed, comes out to wet his lips as he leans forward and snares me with his gaze.

"I don't want to devour you, what makes you think I would?" he drawls, sarcasm so heavy it practically drools.

I swallow, doing my best to ignore the fear thick in my throat.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

He leans back, suddenly far less intensely focused on me. "How much fun I could have with them. I can always tell the runners from the fighters, and exactly how long they'll last against me."

That isn't a terrifying answer at all. Nope. He's totally not the poster child for serial killers everywhere.

I clear my throat and regard my notes rather than let him see how freaked out I am right now.

What's your eye colour?

He tilts his head, a totally different smile curving his lips upwards. This one I can see people being charmed by. He looks rather like a smug cat and it makes his eyes shine. "Cerulean. Sky blue. Tropical blue. Which ever lovely words ye want to use. Flattery could save your life, hen."

I blink, startled by the fact he just winked at me.

"I don't know that your lovely wife would want me to flatter you." I manage, wondering suddenly if I can get her back in here. Maybe she can tell him to stop frightening me.

He snorts, amused and waves a hand as though to bid me continue.

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Ah, I do love the human concept of a scary movie. The jump scares, the eerie noises and special effects. My wee Juliet clinging to me for protection. They're delightful things, horror movies. Can't recommend them enough."

I nod, "Any particular favourites that you'd like to recommend to readers?"

He taps his chin as though thinking, "Sinister. And also The Exorcist."

I scribble the names down. "Okay, so moving on."

Any special talents?

He blinks, "I like to knit. I have made jumpers. And a blanket for the baby. I'm also a good singer."

I nod. His speaking voice has a certain musical quality about it and I'm not surprised it translates well to singing.

Where were you born?

He looks away for a long moment, a sigh leaving his body.

The question must be boring enough to not earn an answer. I open my mouth to ask the next one, but he turns and gives me a small, almost sheepish smile.

"I was born in Lochan Na Dunaich. My mother still dwells there."

What are your hobbies?

"Ah, well I like to knit, like I said. I have also recently taken up whittling. I've gotten fairly decent at carving bird whistles. Outdoors, I love to swim. I've been learning how to draw wee birds as well. We have a bird table, so I can watch them through the window."

He seems somewhat more relaxed than when we began. It's a vast improvement from the initial glaring I was subjected to.

Have any pets?

He laughs. Right out loud. It startles me a little.

"No." is all he says at long last.

What sports do you play/have you played?

His smile is cunning, "I've played a few games of rubgy in my time. There's nothing like the rush of ploughing through a defensive line to score a try."

I make a note of that. "Sounds like fun."

How tall are you?

He makes a slightly confused face, "That's a strange question. I'm over 6 feet. I think it was maybe 6, 2?"

He shrugs it off, "It doesn't matter that much, does it?"

Favourite subject in school?

He chuckles, "I never went to school. But I like to do the wee word puzzles on Countdown in the evening. Making the words from the letters. And I'm good at the sums too."

Of course. Not a human, so he didn't attend a school. The question was a stupid one.

I make sure to record his answer dutifully though.

Dream job?

He grins, "Easy! I'd be a tour guide. Show all the tourists around and tell them the real history. Stuff the books never say."

I nod along as I write that down.

"Was that the last one, aye?"

He's leaning over to look at my writing as I finish my notes. He's far closer than I expected and his breath makes my hair flutter.

"Oh. Yes. Um... that's all." I manage, stepping back a bit.

He nods, a look of faint approval about him.

"They weren't too bad. Ye have many more folk today?"

I shake my head, "Only a fashion blogger who has been teaching people how to tailor clothes to fit better."

I don't know why I tell him. His eyes are just so very blue. Almost hypnotic from this close.

I can smell something earthy and damp. Like mud and green plants. I could just close my eyes take a good sniff and...

He laughs, quiet and dangerous. "You should be more careful, hen. Lowering your guard like that."

I recoil, shaking myself and reminding myself how stupid that was on my part.

He strolls away, pausing by the door to wriggle his fingers at me in a little wave.

"Cheerio, hen. Don't write anything too unflattering in your wee blog, aye?"

The door snaps shut behind him and I shudder.

Tynan Northwood is not to be trusted. No matter how pretty he looks.

Now this one was fun. Tynan is always interesting because he's always somewhere between charming and alarming. I think he just enjoys playing with people to watch them react. But then, that would be a kelpie for you.

As always, please share any thoughts or questions and I'll answer at some point.

Consider yourself tagged if you wanna join in the fun!

[themangledsans0508]

The Unbending Willow

Read on Ao3

Summary:

The last thing Amity would ever expect was a call from Willow. The other last thing she would ever expect was Willow to threaten her.

Words: 570, Oneshot

Warnings: None

Characters: Amity Blight, Willow Park

Ships: Lumity

Additional Tags: Friendly Threatening, Protective Willow Park, ooc willow maybe, i feel like she would do this just in different wording, Canon Compliant

Her crystal ball started humming from its place on her desk. Amity pushed herself off her bed and picked up the ball from its base, placing it on her bedside table. She tapped the top of it and watched the fog inside swirl to show an image.

"Oh, Willow. Hi." Willow sat at a table with her hands folded in front of her. She was in her room, a place Amity recognized from when they used to be friends. It hadn't changed much from when they were little.

"Amity, are you busy right now?" Willow asked.

"No, why?"

"Because I need to talk to you," she took a deep breath. "I wouldn't call us friends, but we're not-not friends. We're friendly, right?"

"Yeah, I'd say so."

"And you know Luz is my best friend, right?" 

"Where are you going with this?" Amity demanded.

"We'll get there," Willow said calmly. 

"Get where?"

"So, up until like, a week ago, I hated you for what you did to me. More like what you didn't do, but that's not the point. The point is you valued your position more than our friendship."

"Willow, I-"

"I know your parents forced you, I understand you really didn't want to, but in the end, you could've told me or at least stood up for me against your friends. You have no idea how much pain and hurt that put me through for half my life. I've forgiven you for that. Now, back to Luz."

"What about her?" Amity asked cautiously.

"I know you have a crush on her."

"What? No, no. Me, having a crush on Luz? That's crazy." Willow raised her eyebrow and Amity sighed. "Are you going to tell her?"

"No, I won't. I just wanted to give you a warning."

"A warning? About what?" Willow pulled a potted flower from somewhere out-of-view and placed it in front of her. She put a finger underneath the iris's petals.

"If you hurt Luz, you'll be a nice fertilizer for my plants." Amity's eyes widened.

"You think I'm going to hurt her? Really? I never would do that!" Amity defended.

"You have to put Luz first. Over what your parents want, no matter what they threaten. Because I might've been able to take it, but Luz won't be. Got that?" Willow stated.

"Yes."

"Status and reputation are nothing without friends." 

"I agree. Willow, I'm a lot braver now. I can't make up for what happened in the past, but I can promise it won't ever happen again," Amity asserted. Willow nodded.

"You can make up for it, at least make it even. I just need your help with a little something."

"What do you need help with?" Amity questioned.

"You and I both know Luz gets herself in over her head. I mean, she's literally fought our government. And with everything with Eda and Lilith, someone needs to protect her. Or some-two."

"I see."

"Gus kinds of enables Luz, but we can try to keep her out of trouble. So when she's with you, make sure she stays safe. That'll do a lot."

"I can do that," Amity confirmed.

"Thank you. Oh, and Amity?"

"Yeah?" Willow smiled.

"Your secret is safe with me. Really."

"That means a lot to me. Have a good night, Willow." She watched the coloured smoke dissipate and set the ball aside, a breath of relief escaping her.

Her secret was safe.