#but surely they should at least pretend that they do

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On ch2 (mostly)

ch1(ish) this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

This is most of Chapter 21, cutting out the smut. IT DOES SPICY🌶️⚠️: alludes to smut the night before and blatant talk leading into more.

Tim wasn’t in his own bed. He wasn’t in his Manner bed either. He was pretty sure it also wasn’t the spare bed at Jason’s or Kon’s bed. It wasn’t Stephanie’s or Bart’s or one of the Titan Tower beds. No, this was a stranger’s bed. That should worry him, Tim knew that, but the worry didn’t come.

Instead of worry, Tim felt calm, pleasantly satiated, and sore.

Tim knew why.

Caroline clung to him, like the heavy remnants of a dream. She was right there, pressing against the back of his mind and assuring him that this was all fine. More than fine even; she was quite pleased.

Grudgingly, Tim opened his eyes and blinked up at the nondescript ceiling. Trying to remember what had happened last night was like watching through low resolution clips of time. Things were rather clear at the start and became less clear as time went on. But he very much understood why he was sore and just how much Caroline had enjoyed himself.

Tim was sure he was blushing an embarrassing amount as he carefully sat and swung his legs over the edge of the side of the bed. Yep, sore. Right, well. Tim cleared his throat as if that would also clear up his embarrassment. How was he supposed to act after sleeping with a complete stranger?

“I thought I heard you awake, gorgeous,” the guy—Danny, his name was Danny—drawled from behind Tim. “I know it’s not the right sort of thing for you, but I put some lounge pants and a shirt in the bathroom for you if you want to shower. Pancakes will be up in about fifteen or so, but take your time.”

“Ah, thanks, that’s nice of you,” Tim said.

He waited until he heard Danny walk back off to wherever the kitchen was before he got up and slipped into the bathroom. All of Caroline’s clothing had been folded into a neat pile, other than the lacy underwear, which were washed and drying on the towel rack. Which was rather sweet.

Tim added the bra to the pile, stretching out the feeling of having worn that all night.

Figuring out how to get the shower turned on and hot was a puzzle, showers always were, but Tim managed it smoothly enough. Danny’s shower actually got decently hot too, and Tim took advantage of that to stand under the spray and just try to center himself.

Should he pretend to be Caroline?

Should he come clean?

He didn’t know what was best… or safest.

But Danny was safe. Tim hated that the certainty of that lingered in his mind, but it did. Caroline was convinced that Danny was safe, at least in these regards. He supposed she must have to lingered like this and still be at Danny’s place in the morning. Tim took a deep breath, breathing in the citrus scent of Danny’s shampoo he as using, and let it out slowly.

Okay, truth it was.

The shower had washed away the last of Caroline, which meant it was only Tim standing in the kitchen, trying not to fidget. He was better than fidgeting, he had been a Robin. But he really wanted to right then as he waited for Danny to turn from the stove.

Danny dished up some bacon onto a plate and turned the stove off before turning. “Turkey bacon,” Danny explained with a little raise of the plate before he set it on the little table which was rather full, “and we have scrambled eggs and, of course, pancakes. Take a seat and dig in.”

“That all sounds great.” Tim didn’t move.

Danny tilted his head with a little frown. “Is everything alright? If, ah, this is too much it’s okay if you just want to leave. I don’t usually… do one nightstands so if I’m breaking some sort of taboo with this I’m sorry.”

“No,” Tim said quickly, “it’s not you, it’s me. Wow, not like that. Sorry. I guess I’m just a little awkward about this. I don’t really do this either. Well, that’s not—I don’t do this. I’m sorry, I’m making an absolute mess of this. I guess, just, okay. I guess I should start by saying you should call me Lin. I’m not… exactly Caroline right now.”

He wasn’t ‘Lin’ either, but no matter what Caroline thought he wasn’t going to give Danny his real name. He was too recognizable for that.

Danny sat down slowly in the chair closest to him. “Are you… not Caroline right now because of how you’re dressed or because you’re not Caroline because you’re someone else now?”

“Oh,” Tim wiggled a handy. “Both but more of the second?”

“Okay,” Danny said, his tone careful in a way that made Tim tilt his head curiously. “Are you… freaked out by waking up somewhere different? Do we need to talk about… anything that happened last night?”

“Oh, oh no,” Tim replied quickly. “I’m mostly aware of what happens when I’m Caroline. Besides I was sort of… in between when I woke up this morning. We’re good.”

Danny shoulder’s slumped and he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Okay, good. I really didn’t want—because everything last night was very, enthusiastically consensual and—”

“We’re good, really,” Tim reassured Danny. It was actually pretty sweet how worked up Danny was about this. “Caroline didn’t do anything—okay, well she does it more freely than me, but, ah, let’s just say we’re in agreement about you.”

Danny looked surprised before a frankly adorable smile curled his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, though maybe don’t get too smug about it,” Tim said with a little shrug and finally took a seat at the table. “I never said either of us had good taste.”

Danny’s surprised laughter was a nice sound. “Don’t worry, I know I’m not hot stuff. The attention is still flattering. I spent most of the night not sure how I ended up with Caroline in my bed.”

Tim rested his chin on his hand, watching Danny curiously. “Even though she’s not what she looks like?”

“Like I said last night, any combination of bits is a good combination.”

“That usually doesn’t mean… personalities,” Tim pointed out.

Danny just gave a little shrug. “Nope. But as long as I haven’t hurt her, or you, then I don’t mind this either. Is it different? Sure. And it has me curious about things, but I’m curious by nature.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Tim quipped.

“But boredom killed it quicker,” Danny replied, finishing the verse.

It was Tim’s turn to smile. “I can’t say I’ll want to or can answer everything, but you can feel free to ask a few questions.”

After a considering noise, Danny took a few bites of breakfast as he obviously thought about what to ask. “So since you know things that happened as Caroline, does that mean you have the same preferences about things?”

“Nope. Caroline’s go to drink is a martini. I like whiskey better,” Tim said, thinking to last night. “Or she likes eggs that are runny but I hate that.”

“Huh, okay. Does that keep going to more serious things too?”

Tim tilted his head and took a bite of the rolled up pancake he had just buttered. As far as morning after breakfasts went, this was pretty nice. “Serious like what?”

“Well, like, last night. Take… a blow job. How would Caroline like one?”

“She wouldn’t,” Tim said easily. “She might give one, but mostly to get someone worked up to fuck her.”

Danny chuckled, a low sound that made Tim want to lean in closer to where Danny lounged in the other chair. “Okay. So you know that pretty easily. But what about you? What about Lin?”

Tim tilted his head. “Lin, I mean I like blow jobs, yeah.”

At least he was pretty sure he did. He didn’t do this sort of thing much as him.

Danny smiled like he was amused. “Okay. And any preference? Leaning against a wall? Pressing me against a wall? In bed? Sitting on the couch. Right here in the kitchen with your legs thrown over my shoulders?”

Tim swallowed reflexively. If Tim was Alvin right then, he’d want Danny on his knees, back pressed against the wall while Alvin held his jaw open and fucked his face. But for Tim… “That last one, please.”

“Please as in now?” Danny asked.

“Yes, please,” Tim said, the words much more blatant begging than he had intended.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Danny drawled the pet name in a slow, easy way that reminded Tim of whipped honey. “But you gotta be good for me and let me hear you.”

-

[Smut goes here. Tim has a very good time.]

-

“No pressure, but here’s my number,” Danny said. He was holding out an actual slip of paper folded in half. He ducked his head a little. “You know, if you or Caroline or you and Caroline want to reach out.”

Tim took the slip of scrap paper, the back of some cut up sales sheet and tapped it against his fingers. “You’d want to hear from both of us?”

“Yes, of course! As long as that won’t cause any issues between you and Caroline. And, I mean, obviously I’d like a heads up who I was talking to,” he said with a shy, crooked smile.

It made Tim give a little laugh. “I bet, it would get real confusing otherwise. I can get another number for her and use it through an app. It keeps everything nice and separate for all of us.”

“Yeah? That sounds good,” Danny agreed. “And you’re sure you don’t want me to get you a cab or walk you to the station?”

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine. I’ve been running around Gotham my whole life.” Or close enough, anyways. “Besides, one of Caroline’s bracelets is a low level tazer.”

“Really? But to fit all of that in—sorry, off topic,” Danny said sheepishly. He leaned in and kissed Tim lightly on the edge of his lips. “Thank you for staying, and telling me who you were.”

“Thanks for being so great about,” Tim said. He stole a quick kiss himself before he slipped out the door. He was too tired for things to descend into another round of sex, not matter the position.

Just before he got outside Danny’s apartment building, he took the time to put Danny’s number in his phone and sent of a quick ‘and thank you for the pancakes’.

[thewertsearch]

GT: I should preface this request with an overture of appreciation. GT: For how much your cool and brotherly friendship means to me. GT: It has just been… GT: Absolutely *bully* having a standup gent like you in my corner. GT: Just a grade a dude whos a cut above the others in class and camaraderie. GT: Phew… *gropes for fresh kerchief*.

Wow, Jake is fucking terrified of this guy - or at the very least, he seems incredibly intimidated for a guy who's ostensibly just chatting with a friend.

Unfortunately, this is exactly what I'd expect from a Bro who's not any different from his adult self. Jake's acting exactly like Dave did, back when he was forced to share an apartment with the guy.

TT: Take it easy, bromide. TT: Just about the only way I could salvage endearment from this perilous slope of horseshit would be to discover, really fucking soon mind you, it was a preamble to some floundering invitation for me to rush to your vicinity as nakedly as possible.

In other words, you wish he was hitting on you.

I really don't think he's kidding, especially since both Roxy and Jane seem to want a piece of English, too. Jake's sitting at the epicenter of at least three crushes, which is not a pleasant place to be sitting when you're fifteen.

TT: But since we've already shot that wad's eventuality on so many dry runs of flustered ambivalence that were as hilarious as they were one sided, TT: That leaves only one hope for this message to avoid spiraling toward qualification as a critical fucking defect in the hull of the Mach 10 rocket that is my precious spare time.

And here's the guy's actual personality. It's a fairly even mixture of Rose and Dave, a combination which synergizes much better than you'd expect.

He's still prone to Dave-style rambles - but unlike Dave, his streams of consciousness are every bit as eloquent as Rose's text, which some extra swear words tossed in for flavor.

It's very good, and immediately does a lot to humanize him, especially when all we've seen so far is "roof. now." and "State your business."

TT: And that hope lies in the extent to which you were practicing artful insincerity. TT: Now's your opportunity to pretend that's what you were gunning for. I suggest you seize it. GT: I… GT: Oh. Yes! But of course. GT: The ironies! GT: Good grief how i was bandying them just now. You know me dude. GT: *Blows smoke off red hot irony pistol.* GT: *NONSUGGESTIVELY!!!!!*

lmaoooo

Alright, I can't actually tell if that was a Freudian slip or not - but I kind of hope it was. If these two became a couple, the vibes would be incomprehensible.

TT: I'm guessing you're probably jonesing for uranium about now. No? GT: Ok can you please just sendificate me some more already?? Im in kind of a hurry! [...] TT: You know. I've offered to construct the rabbit for you many times before. I would craft a much deadlier model. […] GT: Damn it man ive told you this is just something i have to do myself. […] TT: Yeah, I know this is your policy. You've done a good job and you should be proud. TT: But it's my responsibility as your friend to offer one last time. TT: Just as it's my responsibility not to just fork over a bunch of uranium just because you ask me in a moment of weakness. […] GT: Why not??? TT: It's too easy.

Throughout this whole conversation, I've been trying to get a grasp on Bro's general vibe - and I think I'm starting to understand it.

When you're talking to Kid Bro, everything is a game - and he'll make damn well sure that you follow the rules.

Jake previously committed to making the bunny alone, and Bro refuses to rescind that rule, even if Jake's no longer following it himself. He strikes me as a guy who frames every interaction he has as transactional, confrontational, or instructional. He's not capable of just shooting the shit - there has to be an angle.

Mind you, I don't think there's any genuine malice in it. I think this is just how he's wired - and I really do think he's trying to help Jake develop as a person, in his own way.

The problem is, we've been down this road before...

...and nothing good lies down this road.

[catchastarorten]

Heyyyy!!! I just wanted to day i love Ur writing and if you dont wanna do this then you can just ignore! Could you possibly write headcanons of kang dae ho with a reader who has avoidant attachment? Because i recently broke up with a guy who i rlly wanted to be in a relationship because of my avoidant attachment and now he has a new girlfriend and i just feel like shit

Hey lovely, I’m sorry to hear what you’re going through right now, and I hope you’re feeling better. Take care of yourself, you deserve so, so much <33

I don’t usually do headcanons, but here’s one for you, I hope you like it — sending lots of love <3

—How he loves you

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x reader

Content: reader has avoidant attachment, comfort, soft, understanding, Dae-ho is a sweetheart, no games au

• Dae-ho never rushes you. He understands that trust isn’t something you give easily, and that’s okay. He’s in no hurry. He doesn't mind waiting for you to open up. He's like a calm, unbothered cat sitting on your porch—he knows the door will crack a little bit if he waits long enough.

• When you pull away after a vulnerable moment, he doesn’t get upset or demand answers. Instead, he gives you the space you need, quietly waiting until you’re ready to let him back in.

• He's unshakable. Seriously. He never takes it personally when you hesitate or retreat. Instead, he sees it as part of who you are—and he loves all of you, even the parts you can’t share or is still learning to share.

• He has a way of showing he cares without making it feel overwhelming. A simple message like how he’s thinking of you is his way of reminding you that he’s there, without pressuring you to respond. He always waits until you're ready to find him.

• Instead of big, romantic gestures, he's all about the small things—a peaceful walk, sitting on the couch in comfortable silence, or sharing a meal where neither of you feels the need to fill the quiet. He's not here to stress you out.

• He admires your independence. He doesn’t see your need for space as a problem to solve—it’s something he respects and works with, knowing that love doesn’t mean smothering you.

• When you finally open up to him, he listens with his whole heart. He doesn’t try to "fix" anything or tell you what you should do. He just listens, making you feel heard.

• He shares pieces of his own struggles—not to compare but to let you know he understands what it’s like to carry heavy things alone. Like that time he pretended to be confident in the Marines but secretly sucked at running drills. He wants his own experiences to make you feel less alone, like you’ve found someone who really gets it.

• He never sees your distance as rejection. He knows it’s your way of protecting yourself, and instead of reacting negatively, he just stays steady, showing you he’s not going anywhere.

• Dae-ho doesn’t overwhelm you with affection. Instead, he shows his love in small, tender ways. Maybe it’s brushing his hand against yours, or draping his jacket over your shoulders when he notices you’re cold.

• He makes you laugh when you least expect it—turning heavy moments into something lighter without diminishing their importance. His sense of humor has a way of melting your walls without you even realizing it.

• When you shut down or pull away, he doesn’t press you to talk. Instead, he gently says, “Take your time. I’m here when you’re ready,” and you know he means it.

• He notices the small moments when you start to trust him—like when you lean your head against his shoulder or let him hold your hand for a second longer. He never makes a big deal out of it, but the soft smile on his face tells you how much it means to him.

• Every step you take, no matter how small, is something he treasures. If you share even a tiny piece of yourself, he makes sure you know how much he values it.

• He doesn’t expect you to change who you are. He loves you exactly as you are—doesn’t matter the hesitations, fears, and all. You are you, and he loves you for being yourself.

• Dae-ho isn’t the type to give up when things get hard. Your struggles with trust don’t scare him away, they make him want to be there for you even more.

• His love is steady and calming, like a warm cup of tea you didn't ask for but secretly needed. With him, love doesn’t feel like pressure or fear—it feels safe, soft, and freeing.

• Over time, you may realize you don’t have to carry everything on your own anymore. When you finally lean on him, you see that he’s always there to hold you, without hesitation or doubt.

• With Dae-ho, love isn’t something you have to fight for or fear. It’s patient, gentle, and warm—like being wrapped in a soft blanket after a long day.

[callsign-rogueone]

some girl on a horse

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!) words: 4k 🏷: major iron flame spoilers in this one, peach is a horse girl lowkey, temporary heartbreak, miscommunication (or just lack of communication), sawyer should really be in the doghouse here but he's too damn cute to be mad at, sweetheart cameo... that's all I got. onyx storm tomorrow! why am I dreading it...

With each passing day, it has become more clear that you and Sawyer are done playing pretend. He’s fulfilled his duty, and is probably glad to be done with it, not having to cross the bridge to go see you every day, or to spend his weekends with you in town. He has better things to do as a rider, and an executive officer at that. 

Maybe this was the will of the universe, having your paths split, then cross, then split again. It was childish to think that you’d stay close forever, that he’d stick around longer than he had to. He’d invited you out with his friends as a nicety, and then been too polite to decline when Rhiannon had volunteered him to be your knight in shining armor. You’d been an obligation to him, nothing more. 

But there had been so many moments where you saw something like love in his eyes when he’d looked at you, felt it in his touch and heard it in his words.

He’d have made a great stage actor.

Hot tears slip down your cheeks, blurring your view of the setting sun. You’ve started spending your free time out by the end of the bridge. You can’t cross it, but you can sit there and wait. And wait you do — a book laying in your lap unread, your hands numbing from the cold wind as you gaze across the river.

Your heart leaps every time anyone comes by, falling harder each time you realize it’s not him. It’s getting dark earlier each day, getting closer to the solstice. If Sawyer and his friends have really dumped you, then that’ll be a lot fewer presents to make. 

But the boy you’d grown up with wouldn’t do this to you. He was good to the core, always one to do the right thing, the one person you could always rely on and could always trust to keep your secrets, that you’d been content to die beside when that fire had swept through the village all those years ago.

That’s what’s kept you putting on the necklace he’d given you each day after you say your prayers, kept you reading the death rolls every morning for his name and waiting out here every afternoon for any sight of him — the belief that he’d come back to you if he could.

He’ll be back tomorrow, a little bruised but otherwise intact, and you’ll bandage him up, and everything will be alright. It’ll go on like that until July, when you graduate and get shipped off… somewhere, and then maybe the gods will be kind enough to let your paths cross again.

You’d quietly accepted that you’d drift apart at school, but now that he’s back in your life, losing him is going to hurt so badly.

Your friend bursts through the doorway, panting. “The riders are leaving.”

“What?”

“Look,” she wheezes. 

Your heart drops at the sight: at least a hundred dragons all flying straight overhead. Dozens of them are red, and any one of them could be Sawyer’s. Did he leave with them? Where are they going? Is something terrible happening, and they were called in as reinforcements? 

They’re headed south, not west — not to the border with Poromiel. Navarre probably isn’t going to war, then. But what else would demand that much firepower? 

Nothing good, that’s for certain.

————————

Rumors swirl around the quadrant for the next few days, every patient and healer having something to say about the week’s events.

Are we sure this isn’t just another one of their games?

Traitors, the lot of them. They should be rounded up and hung.

I’m sure there’s a reason why they left. Maybe they know something we don’t. 

Someone calls your name down the hall; Yara, a scribe cadet you’d befriended last year.

“It’s good to see you— oh!” you squeak in surprise as she pulls you into a hug — you hadn’t taken her for a hugger, and you really aren’t that close.

“Don’t react,” she whispers into your hair, “but his name is on the list. He left, and the rest of his squad, too. The Sorrengail girl, at least.”

You blink, stunned. “To where?”

“They’re saying Riorson led them all to Tyrrendor. That venin and wyvern are real, but the leadership and the crown are ignoring the threat.” She breaks the hug, painting on a bright smile. “Me and some of the girls are going out for drinks this weekend. You should go.”

You search her eyes for some indicator that she’s hinting at what you think she is.

“It’ll be a bit of a hike,” she continues, “but we’ve done crazier things.”

Have you, really? What she’s suggesting would be capital-I Insane, and potentially land you in prison. And wyvern and venin are just fairy tales, aren’t they?

You chew your lip, thinking. If Yara is right, and Violet, the smartest person you know, had left with the rest of them, there must have been some pretty damning evidence to convince her. And if she left, then Sawyer, Ridoc, and Rhiannon definitely went with her. 

“Maybe,” you respond a moment later than appropriate for the conversation you appear to be having. “I don’t know if it would be the best idea — I have a botany test that I really need to study for.”

“Understandable. Let me know either way. Good seeing you!”

“You too,” you manage, your heart and mind both racing. Did she really suggest that you follow them to Tyrrendor, or are you going completely insane?

There’s only one person you can talk to about this.

—————

“I can’t decide if this is the best idea you’ve ever had, or the worst,” Sarah offers around a yawn.

“Hopefully not the worst,” you reply, looking around the barn. Your eyes settle on a chestnut mare, the only one awake at this hour. “Hi, girl. You wanna go on an adventure with me?” She snorts softly, happily letting you scratch at her chin. “I’m taking that as a yes.” You turn back to Sarah. “If anyone asks…”

“I have no idea where you are. Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so. I took everything I care about, so if they want to assume I’m dead, I’m fine with you burning it all.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point.”

“Thank you for everything,” you say softly, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll write from the road — or your uncle Fergus will. Leave her stall and the barn open. Some idiot forgot to lock up properly and she bolted.”

“This is why you’re the smart one. Too bad you’re absolutely nuts.”

You laugh, quieting as you realize that it’s still very much four in the morning, and you’re supposed to be making a silent exit. 

“I really fucking hope you’re right about this,” she whispers, holding you tighter.

“Me too.”

The horse lets you saddle and mount easily, walking you toward the door. “Alright, girl,” you say, patting her neck. “Let’s see how fast you can go.”

————————————

“Did you need something?” Brennan asks the infantry officer, looking rather peeved that he’d interrupted his lecture. 

“We have a bit of a situation,” he says quietly, embarrassed. “There’s some girl on a horse outside, says she’s a healer. Came all the way from Basgiath.”

Second squad exchanges a look.

“There’s only one healer I know that’s crazy enough to do that,” Rhiannon whispers.

Violet looks over at her, incredulous. “You don’t think…” 

Ridoc grins from ear to ear, clapping a hand onto Sawyer’s shoulder. “Why are you still here? Go get your girl.”

Sawyer bolts from his seat, ignoring Brennan’s protests as he races down the hall toward the front gates. “She’s on our side,” he calls, and the two guards lower their swords, letting him through.

Your head snaps up at the voice, your body flooding with relief at the sight of him. You spring forward and hug him tightly, clutching the black leather of his jacket for dear life. “You’re alive,” you breathe, and his heart cracks right down the middle. “Gods, Sy, I was so scared… The leadership wouldn’t tell us anything, and I didn’t hear from you or Violet or Ridoc or anyone… I waited for you at the bridge every day, but you never came, and I thought…”

He wraps his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, peach,” he whispers, rife with guilt. “It hurt so fucking bad to leave you behind, but I knew you’d be safer there, under the wards.”

You’re crying now, tears slipping down your cheeks and seeping into the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t tell me that anything is safer than being with you.”

He holds you a little closer, rubbing your back gently — slow sweeps of his palm, up and down, up and down, letting you get it all out. 

“I mean it,” you sniff, still clinging to him. “I need you, Sy. I don’t ever want to be away from you like that again.”

“Hey,” he soothes, holding you closer, “I swear to every god who’s listening that I will never leave you behind again. You have my word.”

“Good,” you say in that same cracked whisper you’d used when you’d agreed to let him protect you from James, to play pretend with him.

He continues to whisper soft reassurances to you, rubbing your back. “I’m okay. Everyone is okay. They’re all here, Ridoc and Violet and Rhiannon and everyone. They’re all safe.”

That makes you feel a little better — you’ve become deeply attached to his squad in the last three months, and you couldn’t bear the thought of any of them being injured, or worse. “Is it true?” you ask softly. “All those fairy tales about wyvern and dark magic?”

“It is,” he says quietly. “All of it.”

You exhale deeply, sitting with the information for a moment. “I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Your tears have dried by now — you don’t have any left, likely because you’re so dehydrated. Water had been scarce the last few days. 

He finally puts it together. “Did you steal a horse?”

“I prefer the term liberated,” you wheedle, and Cinnamon chuffs softly in agreement.

“From who?”

“Some poor infantry cadet. They didn’t treat her right, anyway.”

He laughs, bewildered. “You’re absolutely crazy, Peach.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, waving him off, “but you love it.”

He holds you tighter, letting you lean into him — you’re exhausted, your entire body sore from your journey. “I do,” he says softly. “I do love it. I love everything about you.”

Your breath catches. “Sawyer…” you whisper, a warning that you’re getting close to something you can’t ever come back from. 

He ignores it. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m so grateful that you came back into my life when you did. I don’t want to play pretend anymore. I want this to be real.”

“I want that too,” you say quietly. “I was going to tell you the day that you left.”

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I promise you that I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.”

“I don't think I was ever really pretending,” you admit into his shoulder.

He laughs softly, his chest shaking against yours. “I wasn’t either.” You shiver, burrowing into him further — it’s freezing out here, but he’s impossibly warm. “Alright. Let’s get you ladies inside.” 

Cinnamon lets him take the reins easily, trusting him to be gentle with her after seeing the way you ran to him and hugged him so tightly. 

You stay tucked into his side as you make the short walk to the stables. 

He turns to you after a moment, pausing his work of undoing the tack. “Wait. It’s a twelve-hour flight from here to the school… When did you leave?”

“Nine days ago,” you answer tiredly. “It would have been eight, but there was a rockslide in the mountains, so I had to double back and take the long way round.”

“Nine days?” he echoes. “How did you…”

“I followed the south star,” you explain, gazing up at him. “And then a friend of ours found me, and led me the rest of the way here.”

“You’re welcome,” Sliseag adds.

Sawyer blinks for a second, processing. “You two never cease to surprise me.”

You laugh, the puff of breath visible in the air. “Him and I have an understanding.”

“Evidently so,” he agrees, finishing up.

You step outside, tilting your head up to watch the flakes fall. “Just like home.”

He smiles, tugging you closer. “Just like home,” he agrees, leaning his head down…

You put your hand in front of your mouth to stop him. “That’s not a good idea,” you squeak, your cheeks warming. 

He looks at you, confused and a little hurt.

“Sy, I’ve been camping for the last three days,” you prompt, embarrassed. “There weren’t any inns between here and Deaconshire.”

It dawns on him after a second. “Ah.”

“Yeah. So if there’s a bathtub and a sink in that castle back there, I’d like to use them.”

———————

He isn’t expecting you to start stripping so fast, but you’re so eager to be out of your dirty clothes and into the warm water that you don’t think about the fact that Sawyer is still standing there.

He whirls around as soon as he realizes.

“Facing the wall and closing your eyes? I’m almost a little offended,” you tease.

You can see how red his cheeks are in the mirror as he responds. “It’s called being respectful. I’m gonna find you some clean clothes. I’ll be back.”

You hum, letting your head tip back against the tiled wall. By the time Sawyer returns, you’ve washed up, and are just relaxing, enjoying the moment of peace. The warm water is so nice after the freezing cold weather outside, and besides the last week of traveling, you haven’t taken a real bath in two and a half years — showering at Basgiath just isn’t the same. 

“You about ready? It’s almost dinnertime, and you need to eat something.”

You whine in protest, sinking deeper into the water.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Five more minutes. But you’re gonna get all pruney.”

You wiggle your fingers at him playfully. “Oh, it’s too late. I’ve been pruned.”

He rolls his eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”

“C’mere,” you coax, sitting up a bit and resting your forearms on the edge of the tub, leaning toward him.

He settles onto the floor, at eye level with you.

“I brushed my teeth,” you tell him. “So I’m ready for that kiss now. Are you gonna do it, or should I—” Your sentence is interrupted with a soft whimper as he pulls you forward with a hand on your jaw, guiding you into a dizzying kiss. Water sloshes against the side of the tub as you rise up onto your knees, wanting him even closer, but you have to pull back for air. 

“Minty fresh,” he pronounces, brushing his nose against yours.

“Gods,” you breathe, “Why didn’t we do this earlier?”

“I have no idea. But we have the rest of our days to make up for it.”

It’s your turn to tug him forward. You bring a hand up to cradle his cheek, sending water droplets running down the side of his neck, but he doesn’t seem to mind, still entirely focused on you as the kiss gets deeper and deeper, making up for lost time.

He pulls back after a moment, and you whine softly, pouting up at him as he stands. “Dinner,” he reminds you gently. “We can pick this back up later tonight.”

That seems to appease you — there’s that mischievous little twinkle in your eye, the one he loves so much. “I’m holding you to that,” you warn.

“Please do,” he answers a little too quickly, holding out a thick towel and turning his gaze to the wall so you can get up.

“Averting your eyes again? Ouch.”

He reddens, still looking away. “If I see you naked right now, we won’t make it to dinner.”

You giggle, taking the towel from him and pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek. “You, Sawyer Henrick, are adorable.”

He clears his throat, gesturing to the pile on the counter and changing the subject. “I think these should fit.”

Black on black, of course. This castle… palace? fortress? is full of riders. At least it’s cotton fabric and not all leather — that would be a bitch to put on with wet skin.

You throw your still-dripping hair into an easy style; you’ll take the time to dry it and detangle and everything later. “This feels like a hallow’s eve costume. All I need is the jacket,” you joke, examining your reflection.

He shrugs his off, draping it over your shoulders, and your heart nearly stops. 

You’d had his tongue in your mouth not three minutes ago, but this somehow feels even more intimate — wearing his jacket, with his name over your heart, being wrapped in his scent and the warmth of his body that lingers on the fabric... Definitely against regulation, but so are a lot of things you’ve done in the last week, namely taking an unplanned and unsanctioned leave of absence from Basgiath with no real plans to return. 

You’ll deal with those consequences later. Maybe.

—————

You freeze at the sight of the group of people entering the hall, their brown uniforms and the quivers of arrows over their shoulders marking them as gryphon fliers. You’ve never seen one in person before. 

“It’s a very long story, but they’re on our side now,” Sawyer explains, but he still holds you a little closer anyway — it’s unclear if he doesn't fully trust them, or if he just wants to comfort you in the presence of the people you’d been taught to treat as enemies.

“That should not have been a surprise after everything else you told me,” you laugh, but the sight of them still makes you a little nervous. 

He stops at one of the long tables and drops a kiss to your forehead. “Sit. I’ll get you some real food.”

Rhiannon is the first to spot you. “I told you it had to be her!”

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Violet says, wide eyed.

You laugh, settling into an open spot on the bench. “I feel like a little kid playing dress-up. But at least I don’t stick out so much anymore. The blue was a little…”

“I thought it was nice,” someone says quietly — a girl sitting next to Ridoc with a book open in front of her. You recognize her from the infirmary; he had brought her in one morning, covered in cuts and bruises. A little butterfly had fluttered around her the whole time, landing on your arm once as you worked.

You offer her a soft smile. “Glad to see you in one piece.”

“I hear you’re our newest healer,” someone greets — a man who looks a bit older than you. Your eyes catch on the Lieutenant Colonel insignia on his jacket, and then the mender’s patch. He must be the equivalent of Nolon around here.

“Yes, sir,” you answer shyly, suddenly a little embarrassed to be wearing someone else’s uniform. “Or one in training, anyway.”

“We’ll take what we can get. Come by the infirmary tomorrow, and we’ll get you started.” He pats Sawyer on the shoulder in passing, giving him a knowing smile. “Your squadmates can fill you in on what you missed this afternoon.”

Sawyer reddens. “Thank you, sir.”

You wait until he returns to the head table before you look back at Violet, wide-eyed. “Is that…”

She nods. “Officially, he isn’t. But yes, that’s my brother. How did you know?”

“You have the same smile. And the signet patch — Nolon talks about your brother all the time. He’s the best mender there’s been in a hundred years.”

“He’s pretty good,” she concedes. “Second only to Lieutenant Avan, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Your ears prick up at the mention of the girl. “Is she here too? How’s she doing?”

“You know her?” Ridoc’s girl asks, curious. 

You nod. “She came in all the time with Professor Carr to practice. Oh, I hated that guy. Poor girl always looked so uncomfortable around him, and he’d work her to the bone every time. I talked back to him once, telling him to let her stop before she keeled over, and I was sure that he’d get me in trouble for it, but he just gave me that creepy stare and left.”

“I know the one,” she says with a shudder. “He’s the worst.”

“Food,” Sawyer prods before you can reply, pushing the plate closer to you.

You roll your eyes at him, but you finally realize how hungry you are, tucking in to your first real meal in days — nothing fancy, just some kind of fish and vegetables and brown bread, but it’s much more appetizing than anything you’d had at any of those terrible inns in Deaconshire, and with much better company. You had to cut everything with one hand, the other under the table clutching Sawyer’s dagger to defend yourself against any of the other patrons, but praying that you wouldn’t have to. Mercifully, they’d all left you alone.

It feels like you’re back at school, crammed around one of the tiny tables at the tavern you’d frequented — the same laughter and easy chatter, as if you aren’t preparing for a war of proportion you don’t yet understand.

You keep up with the conversation for a little while, finishing your plate and resting your head on Sawyer’s shoulder for a moment, a gentle gesture of thanks. He wraps an arm around you, tucking you into his side as the squad continues to discuss several things that go in one ear and out the other, but are likely important to this effort — journals and runes and wards and the original six.

You can’t keep your eyes open. Now that you’ve reunited with Sawyer, gotten cleaned up and eaten something, the adrenaline has faded, and you just want to sleep for the next four days — in a real bed with real blankets, not a thin sleeping bag on the frozen ground.

“M’sorry,” you murmur. “Just really tired.”

He chuckles softly. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

You bid everyone goodnight, trudging up endless flights of stairs to a barracks room that’s devoid of anything except a bed made up with plain sheets and the pack you’d taken from school. 

“Home sweet home,” he announces. “At least you don’t have a roommate. I get to deal with Ridoc twenty four hours a day now.”

You manage a laugh, kneeling down to look through your bag and setting a few things on the empty desk. “Now it’s home.”

He raises his eyebrows, amused. “Glad to see that your bunny made the cut when you were packing a bag to commit treason.”

“I wasn’t going to leave him behind after twenty years,” you defend, a little embarrassed.

“Understandable,” he offers. “Alright. You’ve got pajamas, bathroom’s down the hall, you have your key… you all set?” You nod in affirmation, and he kisses your forehead, giving you a soft hug before he turns toward the door. 

You whine softly, holding on a little longer. “You’re leaving?”

“I need to shower, but I can come back after, if you want.”

You cover a yawn with your hand. “That would be nice.”

“Alright. Get changed. I’ll be back.”

The door unlocking and the movement of the mattress under his weight stir you from your sleep. 

The bed is just barely big enough for the two of you, but you don’t mind, curling into his side and nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder. He’s warm, and the weight of his arms around you is soothing.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.”

[atangledfate]

She sighed as she worked to splint one of the victims of the crashes arm, and wanted to roll her eyes so bad at Twist. It wasn't like she didn't know that but, she also was hyper aware at least a couple people were to critical to be moved. If GUN wanted everyone out that was going to be an impossible task without risking lives. Twist had to know that right? Or maybe he was just trying to create small talk.

" We'd love that to, but a few patients are to critical to be moved right now. So best we can do is get those who can be moved ready to be transported. If GUN wants to muscle in and kill people they can do it in there own hospital but not here... "

She said flatly showing that Dawn wasn't scared of GUN or its soldiers. She'd faced crazy odds during the war, and she'd learned to toss her far to the wind. It made her somewhat reckless and straight forward. But if it came down to it she had no problems becoming a harmacist if she had to!

" We'll do what we can, and GUN has to just--- understand the circumstances. That airship might have missed critical areas but the explosion and impact shockwave hit a major portion of the base. Lots of lower levels were damaged to... we are lucky things aren't worse "

===============================================

Jewel paid close attention to what the two said, and while there was likely small details they missed. She had a feeling Clean Sweep was maybe not doing as well as they pretended to be. She'd seen there finance reports, and alot of there cash was going out to mysterious benefactors. She wondered if that cash wasn't being siphoned off by someone else, or maybe Clutch owed money to someone they hadn't seen yet. But in truth she had a feeling this was just a power play by clutch to prove he was a big man. Steal all there cash and put them in a hole just to rub salt in the wound. For all his brilliant moves Clutch made a few foolish ones.

" I'm not sure why he made such a bold move. But he did want to get rid of his competition... it wasn't a totally unfounded attempt. But i suppose those questions will have to wait for later. "

She turned to yara and the skunk brothers

" I do apologize leaving you all like this. But i should probably be present in the command center. Surge is the fastest way back, you should try to catch up with me when you can. I doubt she can carry all of us. "

She was going to say Bye and good luck but surge had other ideas as she was tugged along at super sonic speeds. Truthfully she was somewhat use to moving at high speeds do to Tangle yeeting herself around as a kid! But by comparison this was much faster and she felt her insides doing a double take!

" I think... i'm gonna... "

She covered her mouth with both her hands and looked like she was green behind the gills for a second! but managed to keep her lunch where it belonged!

" I'm good... i'm good, i'll be with you as soon as my head stops spinning..."

"Guess it would make things easier if one know how Gaia Gifts worked, though my dad used to say sometimes you might not like the answer." Twist was sure they could be any number of reasons, though that included ones that weren't ideal. The lemur was sure there are people still trying to figure out, though that was their choice. He was fine with not knowing nor did he intend to try and find out.

Twist would follow Dawn to where they were taking care of the injured. "We should try to move everyone we can. My contacts said they want to do an investigation so that means The Restoration will have to be shut down for a bit. Clearly they won't do that with people still hurt." The lemur did know they'd be a bit pushy so best to try and get as many out as possible.

===========================================================

"I would certainly hope so seeing as I sentenced them to be your personal bodyguards, though I suppose that shall have to wait." Yara was sure it'd be better that Rough and Tumble not attend the talk with President Thawne until he can clear everything with G.U.N. "In the meantime I suppose I shall get whatever information these two have on Clutch as I'm sure G.U.N will see that as a fair trade off." The royal was sure it'd be an easy deal to manage.

"Geez, now we gotta remember all those dumb orders and anything we saw." Rough's memory has never been the best when it came to certain things. Anything boring he didn't pay too much attention to, and the long orders were just hard for him to remember everything. Though the skunk couldn't recall anything too odd other than the scheme to get rid of The Restoration.

"Well, he didn't really say anything worth of note when we were around, and we did the normal grunt work. I suppose the only thing I find odd was him wanting us to take all of The Restorations cash. Clean Sweep made a lot of money, and there were easier ways to get The Restoration to go out of business." Tumble wondered why he wanted them to take the money they made.

"Good luck trying to figure out what these two morons know, if anything at all. We gotta jet." Surge would grab Jewel's shoulder and then dashed off. It didn't take the tenrec long to find the entrance back into The Restoration from the sewer. After that it was just a matter of dashing all the way to the command center. Which was done in a matter of seconds as the speedster came sliding to a stop. "If you gotta throw up, then do it now." She stopped at the door to the command center.

[hellinistical]

more hcs of rafayel with a desi/mena girl cause im in need. and yeah it does lean more towards Muslim girls BUT anyone can read obviously.

He's actually not that great at fasting. At least, not when it becomes something he has to do. The man can be painting all day and not eat but the second it becomes obligatory? Pain.

And he's also not that great in the fact that he can't really go to bed with you, ya know? cause he's gotta stay away from lust.

Brushes his teeth obsessively during Ramadan cause he'd be damned if his breath got rank when he wants to kiss you.

designs your hijabs and abayas, lehengas, dupattas- everything.

he's designed your rings so why not ya know?

I think he'd be really just obsessed with doing your henna even for occasions that are just ordinary. He'd have you guys have matching designs or better yet- connecting ones (where if you lay side by side or put your hands or whatever together the picture all connects.) giggles cause its yalls secret. his name is on you somewhere and yours is on his.

The type to claim to be a picky eater but that's just not the case. at least, for the most part.

He'll eat stuff like mansaf with lamb head or even jadoo—oh, but you can't deny him his seafood.

on eid, or rather, the night before, he cant sleep. he'd be far too excited and try to stay up all night like its a game between you two.

Eid outfits? oh you're KILLING it- no one is even coming close to you guys. he takes it seriously and loves the feeling that he's out done everyone. getting ready on the phone with your cousins and siblings and they're just "oh my god." cause they weren't expecting you to pop off AGAIN.

Somehow finds a way to get the best parking spot at the place the eid prayer gets even though its jam packed. He finds it. probably had thomas hold his place too. There will be no 10+ minutes of walking in your heels and nice clothes dragging on the side walk just to get to the car.

But aside from that, hates how crowded eid prayer gets and even though you wanna go early cause all your friends are going early he'd prefer to go when the last round of it is going. and the fact that itd be easier to find a parking spot.

is he queasy when picking out a lamb or goat? nah. I can see him pretending that he doesn't wanna do the slaughter but he does. picks out the one with the most meat on (and if you like the more fatty pieces makes sure to save those when he takes home the portions you guys want before donating the rest).

when you go to the mosque, he parks closer to the women section so its easier for you. and makes sure to get there early cause ofc he's gotta get a good spot. Always has a water bottle on hand, maybe some makeup wipes and an extra palette- knows how to fix your makeup for you. SUPER fast with it too.

If you wanna rant to him about podcast bros and wannabe tiktok sheikhs he'll gladly join in and help clown them. Cause who is he to let some buffoon, some deranged man (cough based bengali but don't come for me there's more) who graduated at tiktok university try and act like they know everything to upset his wife? He is not the one.

matter of fact hes probably doxed a couple just for the nonsense they say- (or maybe exposed them....)

should i do more

[cha-melodius]

For the hug prompt

17, Loki / Mobius

15, Alex / Henry

(Now taking a little fandom break—thanks for the Lokius prompt! I will circle back to the firstprince one later. This is a little season 2-set moment. read all the hug ficlets)

17: The hug where they have their other hand rubbing circles on your back, kisses littering your hair, words of comfort on the tip of their tongue.

Most loops, Loki doesn’t have time to let the reality of what he’s continuously experiencing sink in. He’s got a job to do and far too much to learn, so no matter how many times he fails, no matter how many times he watches his friends—this small collection of people he’s come to care so much about—simply disintegrate, he keeps his head up and keeps going. There’s no other option, really.

Occasionally, though, the accumulated damage to his psyche that such things inflict catches up with him. Occasionally, Loki time slips somewhere into the past he doesn’t intend to, as if his mind is giving him an enforced break. Once, after a particularly troubling iteration in which he and Mobius somehow ended up in a yelling match before Mobius stubbornly insisted on getting himself spaghettified, his control of the slipping, well, slips and he ends up in the TVA archives at some unknown time.

He was at his wit’s end when he started slipping, and once his body comes to rest he falls to his knees and lets out a frustrated yell, then collapses forward onto his hands, breathing heavily. The release makes him feel marginally better, so that’s something. It doesn’t do much to help the ache in his chest, though, the hole being slowly carved out every time he watches his friends die. Tears still sting in his eyes, and he squeezes them shut hard in an attempt to make himself get a bloody grip.

Another moment, and he’ll time slip more purposefully, to sometime when he’ll be able to be useful. Hopefully.

Before he can collect himself, though, a familiar cadence of footsteps echoes through the empty archives. Loki’s about to slip anytime else, because either this Mobius won’t know him or he’ll be too familiar, and Loki’s not sure he can take either right now. He doesn’t quite manage it before Mobius rounds the corner, his eyes going wide.

“Loki? What are you— Oh, what’s wrong?”

And Loki shatters. It’s too soon, he wasn’t prepared, and he’s hit the end of his rope. Because this Mobius knows him—more than that, he’s got that look on his face, the one that Loki’s been trying to ignore, the one that says that Loki means more than he should to him. The one he’d had on his face when he refused to let Loki venture out into the time loom, the one that rends tears in Loki’s resolve, even though he’s doing all of this for Mobius.

For all of them, of course. But it would be stupid to pretend that Mobius isn’t special, and Loki’s not stupid.

Mobius moves more quickly than he expects, dropping to his knees beside Loki and wordlessly tugging him into a breathlessly tight hug. And Loki goes, lets Mobius wrap his arms around his shoulders and tug him against his chest, lets the emotion wash through him for once instead of burying it deep down where no one can touch it. He’s not sure how long they sit there on the floor of the archives, Mobius rubbing comforting circles between his shoulder blades and murmuring promises that it’ll be ok— promises that he certainly can’t keep—into Loki’s hair.

It doesn’t really matter how long, anyway. For once, Loki lets himself have this moment of comfort, and knows that these minutes in Mobius’ arms will sustain him for a few hundred more attempts, at least.

[kikyoupdates]

Crushed Velvet ⭑˚🥀⭑ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑐𝑎𝑘𝑒

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

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[Name],

My parents have instructed me to invite you to the palace so that we can spend some time together. Please find the time to come meet me tomorrow. Failing to do so would not place you on good terms with my family.

Xeno.

You gaped down at the letter, absolutely dumfounded. It was easily the most dry, unpleasant personal message you had ever received. And what, was this supposed to be a threat? He was a prince, for crying out loud, and yet his manners were practically nonexistent.

“Look at this,” you scoffed, waving the letter in front of Ella’s face. “Do you see what I mean? This is how he speaks to me. If he’s going to act like this, of course I’m not particularly thrilled about our engagement.”

Ella’s eyes kept darting to and from the page. “Um… forgive me, my lady, but I’m not so sure I should be reading any sort of correspondence you have with the Crown Prince…”

“I’m letting you see it, so it’s fine. Don’t you agree that it’s ridiculous?”

“I-It’s really not in my place to comment,” she stammered.   

“Oh, come on. You can’t lie. He’s an asshole.”

“Miss…”

“Asshole,” you muttered, crumpling up the letter between your fingers. “He has no tact whatsoever. He doesn’t even try to pretend like he wants to see me. It’s just his parents forcing him to. And he’s clearly giving me no choice in the matter, otherwise the King and Queen will be upset with me. Such a prick.”

Poor Ella was at a loss for words. You loved your sweet little maid. She was one of your closest, most valued companions. You knew you shouldn’t be burdening her with all this, but every time you told yourself it wasn’t that bad and decided to give Xeno the benefit of the doubt, he went ahead and pulled something like this.

You stared down at the crumpled letter for a few moments, then eventually smoothed out the wrinkles with your hands. “Actually, I’m going to show this to my parents and see what they think of it. They’re so fond of kissing up to the royal family and acting as if they’re all saints. I wonder if this might change the impression they have.”

It didn’t, of course.

“He simply gets straight to the point,” your mother defended. “Prince Xeno must be very busy with all his duties. It’s understandable that he wouldn’t have much time to invest in writing his letters.”

“If anyone ever wrote to either of you this way, you would be furious.”

“We are in no place to be judging him,” your father eagerly piled on. “Remember, we are forever at the service of the King and Queen. Xeno may be a little curt, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a good person. You just don’t know him very well yet, that’s all.”

No matter what you said, no matter how Xeno acted around you or whatever evidence you provided, their opinion would never be swayed. All you could do was shake your head and sigh in defeat, the same way you always did. You were already dreading tomorrow.

Your mother patted your shoulder. “Don’t look so dejected. Why don’t you go into town for a bit before you meet with him tomorrow and pick out a nice gift? I’m sure he’ll be pleasantly surprised, and this is a good opportunity to commemorate your engagement as well.”

“But I don’t even know what he likes,” you protested. “I don’t even know if there are things he likes.”

“It’s the thought that counts. He’ll appreciate it no matter what.”

Right. Somehow, you highly doubted that. He’d probably scrunch up his nose and think that you were trying too hard to kiss up to him. Well, whatever. Maybe you could at least pick out some treats for yourself while you were in town.

With the exception of that horrible week you’d spent running all over the place to prepare your dress for the engagement party, it had been quite a while since you’d gone into town. It had just been day after day of dealing with visiting nobles and that recent debacle concerning your new tutor. Though you couldn’t exactly call this a break, per se, it would be nice to just walk around for a bit and take some time for yourself.

The following day, as per Xeno’s classless letter, you went into town by carriage along with a few servants. They pretty much insisted on following you everywhere, but they didn’t pester you or anything, so you were free to keep to your own devices.

At first you just walked around, enjoying the beautiful weather and the fresh air. After a while, it became abundantly clear that you had no particular goal in mind. You really had no clue what Xeno would appreciate as a gift. Food was probably the most logical decision. It was better than some random, permanent trinket that he probably wouldn’t even end up using. Also, if you were being honest, you were getting kind of hungry anyways.

You turned towards one of your servants. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in town. Have any new shops opened up recently? I was thinking of picking out something nice to eat for when I visit the Prince.”

“I haven’t heard of anything in particular, my lady. Would you like us to ask around?”

“Hm, I guess that wouldn’t hurt. We’ve still got quite a bit of time, so how about we split up? You can all go around and report back to me if you hear about anything good.”

He gave you a worried look. “Oh, but… your father told us to stay right by your side and make sure nothing happened to you.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “Then two of you can go ask around, and one of you can stay with me while I browse shops and restaurants on my own. How does that sound?”

They nodded, hastily deciding who would stay and who would go. You would have honestly preferred to just make a day out of this, perusing through town and enjoying the sunshine. Still, now that you were already here, you may as well get what you’d come for.

Something Xeno would enjoy…

You didn’t have the faintest idea. His icy demeanor did a pretty good job of shutting you out and keeping you fully in the dark. He was so dry and rough around the edges. Also bitter. He was definitely bitter. Put all those things together and you got…

“What’s dry, has a rough texture, and also tastes bitter?” you asked the servant.

“I-I beg your pardon? That doesn’t sound like it would be all that palatable…”

He was probably right about that. The closest thing that fit your impression of Xeno was burnt vegetables, and you got the sense that he would probably kick you out of the palace if you brought something like that as a gift.

Just like that, you were back to square one, but you didn’t mind the challenge. It actually gave you the opportunity to find all kinds of new, tasty food—mostly for yourself. If your parents had given you a larger sum to spend, you might have bought a dish from just about every restaurant you stepped into.

“I’m still having trouble deciding,” you sighed. “No matter where I look, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s just going to hate whatever I bring…”

“That’s not true, my lady. He will love it, I’m sure.”

Everyone seemed so eager to say that. Obviously, they were just trying to be encouraging, but they also clearly didn’t know what Xeno was like. Perhaps you were being a bit too ambitious, trying to stumble upon some extravagant dish that you were hoping he’d never eaten before. Yeah. That was probably unrealistic. It might just be better to stick to something simple instead.

You looked towards the other end of the street, where clusters of people were coming out of a store carrying small boxes in their arms. It was a store you didn’t recognize, but based on all the customers that seemed to be going in and out the doors, it seemed like the business was thriving.

“Just a moment,” you said. “I’m going to go take a look.”

“Ah, Lady [Name]! Where should I wait—?”

The sound of his voice soon became lost in the crowd. You cut through the large group of people and stepped through the doors, curious to find out what had everyone so excited. The second you walked inside, you were greeted with a sweet aroma, the scent of baked bread, fresh fruit, and lots and lots of sugar.

It was a pastry store. The interior was decorated with soft, pastel colors that complimented the countless delicious treats on display. You could feel your mouth watering already. Everything looked so good. You could easily spend a whole day here sampling out all kinds of desserts, but you got the feeling that Xeno wouldn’t much care for any of this. It was probably a waste of time.

You were about to turn around and leave, but the woman behind the counter called out to you in a cheery voice.

“Welcome,” she smiled. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

“Oh, um… I’m not sure. I don’t think I’m—”

“Ah!” she suddenly exclaimed. “You are… pardon me, but aren’t you Lady [Name]? I thought I recognized you from somewhere. Our shop once catered the desserts for a tea party hosted at your manor.”

You smiled and nodded, feeling a bit guilty that you didn’t recognize her at all. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry. I must not have recognized the name of the store. My mother organizes most of those events, so I didn't realize who you were. But it seems as if she made a good decision to hire you back then, just based on how popular your store is.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I only saw you the one time, in passing. And yes, we were a relatively small business back then, but we’ve since made a bit of a name for ourselves, I suppose. Oh, and I heard the news! You’re engaged to Prince Xeno now, are you not?”

“Y-Yes.”

“That’s amazing!” she beamed, clasping her hands together. “You have my congratulations. I hope the two of you are very happy together.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, I know. To celebrate the occasion, how about I let you have some desserts on the house?”

“I couldn’t possibly,” you shook your head. “I very much appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t want to put you out. I probably need to be on my way regardless. I’ve been looking for something to eat to bring the Prince, but I still have no clue what he’d enjoy. I should keep on searching.”

Her smile just got even wider. “Well, that’s perfect. It just so happens that Prince Xeno loves our strawberry shortcakes. Why don’t I send you off with a box of them?”

“He loves… strawberry shortcake?”

You couldn’t help but wonder if she was messing with you. Someone as cold and stuck-up as Xeno, liking something as fluffy as strawberry shortcake? While it was possible that he had a sweet tooth, the image was just so jarring that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around it.

“I’m sure it must seem out of character for him,” she chuckled. “But I can promise you that he really does enjoy them. He likely has all sort of talented chefs around the palace to whip up his favorite desserts for him, but every now and then we still get a bulk order to deliver to him. Especially for any large gatherings they hold; we always get rather busy around those times.”

“Well, you probably know better than I do,” you acknowledged. “I’ll take a few shortcakes, in that case.”

“Excellent! Like I said, they’re on the house.”

“No, no, I’ll pay.”

“Please, I insist.”

You tried to protest further, but she was already loading several pastries into a box for you. She carefully folded the edges in and patted everything in place, then handed it to you with a bright smile.

“Here you are. I promise you he’ll enjoy them.”

“Thank you very much,” you smiled appreciatively. “I was really at a loss as to what to bring over.”

“It’s my pleasure. With time, I’m sure you’ll discover all his preferences.” She then cleared her throat, suddenly looking a tad nervous. “Speaking of… have you been finding it difficult being around the Prince? You know, because of his condition…?”

“Condition?”

She must’ve realized she’d said too much, because she’d all but clamped her palms over her mouth. “I-I apologize!” she stammered out. “I’m not even sure what I was trying to say… please, ignore my rambling. I hope you enjoy your time together!”

You flashed her a skeptical look, but she probably wouldn’t have explained, even if you stayed around to pester her. You’d already spent quite a bit of time in town. If you didn’t hurry up and leave soon, you would end up being late, and you got the feeling Xeno would never let you live that down.

“Very well. Thank you again for the pastries. Have a nice day.”

Equipped with your box of strawberry shortcakes, you stepped outside, feeling a lot more confident than earlier. You had to push your way through the crowds again—it was exceptionally busy this time of day—and you traced your steps back to regroup with your servant.

Only to realize that he was nowhere to be found.

I thought he was going to wait? Perhaps I ran off too quickly.

You sighed. This complicated things somewhat. It wasn’t anything too major; you could just head back to where you’d left the carriage and you were sure they’d naturally make their way over as well. Walking with the large box in your arms was slightly awkward, and you really wished that one of the servants was here to help you. The midday sun was beating down much more vigorously than before, burning your cheeks and making you squint through the rays.

Momentarily blinded by the brightness, you accidentally walked straight into someone, nearly dropping the box to the ground.

“Shit!” you cursed out. “That was close…”

“Watch where you’re going, goddammit!”

The young man you’d just bumped into was glaring you down. He had pretty mint-green eyes framed by long lashes, and turquoise colored hair that cascaded down the sides of his face. He was also wearing a familiar white uniform—the official garb of Aeolia’s knights.

You pressed your lips together. “That’s rather rude. I apologize, but the sun had gotten in my eyes and I couldn’t quite see for a moment. There’s no need to yell at me. And why should I be the only one to watch where I’m going? You didn’t notice me either. My pastries might have gotten crushed.”

“Right, your pastries,” the man reiterated sarcastically. “That would have been a tragedy.”

“Well, seeing as these pastries are a gift for my fiancé, Prince Xeno, your statement is really not that much of an exaggeration.”

That sure got a reaction out of him. You were usually loath to play the “prince’s betrothed” card, but it did a pretty good job of shutting people up.

“Oh,” he said simply, his eyes slowly widening. “Oh. You are… the prince’s—”

“Future wife, yes.”

All of a sudden, he looked like a guilty puppy. “I-I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t realize who you were. Lady [Name], correct? Please forgive my rudeness. I’ve been known to get irritated a little too quickly…”

“It’s funny how your tone changed the second you knew who I was,” you snorted.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he mumbled shamefully. “I was already in a bad mood to start, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have yelled at anyone like that, let alone you. Will you accept my apology?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit strange to ask for my forgiveness when you haven’t even introduced yourself?”

His cheeks darkened from embarrassment. “Ah… yes. My name is Keith. Keith Lybell. I apologize again for my rude reaction, Lady [Name].”

“It’s fine,” you chuckled. “I wasn’t really all that upset anyways. But I appreciate you owning up to your mistake.”

“Thank you for your understanding. Um, that box looks quite heavy,” he remarked. “Is there no one to help you carry it?”

“I got separated from my servants earlier. I’m heading to my carriage now, so that I can get to the palace in time for my meeting with the Prince.”

“I could carry it for you,” he offered. “And escort you to your carriage so you aren’t walking all alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s the least I could do. I am still a protector of the people, after all. This much is nothing.”

You, for one, couldn’t wait to let go of that bulky box, and you handed it over to Keith gratefully. Perhaps he really was only kissing up to you, but you appreciated the help. And maybe you’d just caught him in a bad mood. Knights were, for the most part, hardworking selfless people. They put their lives on the line for the greater good.  

Keith kept glancing over at you, a little unsure what to say. “If you don’t mind me asking… what is in this box?”

“Strawberry shortcake.”

“Eh?”

“Yes. Apparently the Prince is fond of it.”

“Huh.” He scrunched up his nose. “I can’t really picture that.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” you mused. “I personally assumed he hated anything and everything, just based on how he acted.”

“Is it okay for you to be saying those things?”

You flashed him a teasing look. “Why? Are you going to tell on me?”

“N-No,” he blushed. “Of course not.”

“Then we’re fine. Besides, if he ends up not liking these, that just means there’s more for me. Oh,” you blinked. “My carriage is right over there. You can hand me the box back now.”

Keith placed the box back in your hands, just in time for a familiar squeal to pierce through the air.

“My lady!” one of your servants panted as he ran over, looking absolutely traumatized. “I-I’m so sorry! You just ran off so quickly, I lost sight of you in the crowd. I tried following after you, but I wasn’t sure which store you’d gone into, and—and—”

“Relax,” you chuckled, patting his head. “I’m fine. This nice knight helped walk me over. Nothing happened.”

Keith quirked a brow. “I’m nice?”

“You aren’t?”

“Uh… maybe. No one’s ever called me that before.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” With the help of your servant, you stepped up into the carriage, placing the box of shortcakes on your lap. “Thank you, Keith,” you smiled. “And I’m sorry again for bumping into you. I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

Keith looked like he wanted to say something, but the carriage door closed, and he clamped his lips shut, offering a timid wave instead.

[starwarskawaii]

Annoyance and Empanadas

A Miguel O'Hara fic

Alright, here's that Miguel fic. Dedicated to Lan ( @chaithetics ) for always believing in and encouraging me. Proofread by my husband, @kitsunot . So if I made a mistake, blame him.

A/N: This is self-serving, reader is HEAVILY based on me. No word count because I am lazy.

Edit: possible part 2 if you guys like this one. So make sure to let me know!

CW: disabled reader, possible slightly ooc Miguel, mentions of Miguel's *gestures at his life*, no use of Y/N, second person voice, mentions of mobility aids, disability is not specified but is highly based on my experiences with fibromyalgia, female reader, mentions of brain fog, mentions of safe foods, reader is slightly implied to be autistic, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING

You were annoying. Not annoying like Peter B, who always had a quip and lacked boundaries. Not annoying like Miles, who questioned Miguel constantly. Not even annoying like Hobie, although you were a bit of an anarchist. The first thing you had ever said to Miguel was, "I support women's rights and women's wrongs. I do not, however, support men's rights OR men's wrongs, so I hope you've improved." No, you weren't annoying like any of them. You were annoying like Lyla. You were annoying because you knew him. You knew him entirely too well. Which was quite possibly the worst kind of annoying you could be.

You sauntered in on your purple forearm crutches, thinking of what you could say to piss Miguel off. As much as you'd like to pretend you were a quick thinker, the brain fog made it near impossible to come up with anything on the fly. So as you sauntered in, you thought of what you could do to make those veins pop on his neck and forehead. You liked those veins.

Miguel heard you coming. How could he not? Mobility aids are not stealthy. Not in the least. Miguel knew what was coming, and he braced himself for whatever quip you had up your sleeve. Your quips were worse than a Peter Parker's; you had studied him. You came from a universe Miguel stumbled on accidentally. A world where he and all the other Spiders were just characters in comics and movies. And you happened to be Miguel O'Hara's number one fan (and biggest hater, somehow simultaneously). You had made tons of posts analyzing him on some site, tumbling, maybe? He couldn't remember. He brought you on for a few reasons, but mainly to help the algorithms predict events in the Spider's lives.

"Ohhh, Miiiiiggy!" Came your voice, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"What? I'm a bit busy, you know, " came his reply.

"Too busy for me, Migs?" You pouted and batted your lashes. You knew he couldn't resist that.

Miguel was surprised. No quips yet. That's a first.

"Too busy brooding to listen to your favorite right-hand woman?" There it was. There was the jibe at him. You loved doing that. You were probably worse than Lyla.

Lyla popped up and snickered "He was just brooding, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess. Migs, my love, would you care to tell me why the caf has no empanadas?"

"Aye, you came here to interrupt my ensuring the fate of the Arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse over an empanda?"

"They're your recipe, we all know they're the best in the multiverse" you reasoned with him.

"They're my mother's recipe, technically, and I'll make you some when I take you home." Miguel always took you home. You had a lot of issues with the stupid 2099 high-tech stuff, and it also required use of at least one hand, something you rarely had the luxury of, unless it was a no mobility aid or a wheelchair day. So Miguel made sure you were safe.

"Fine, fine. When are you taking me home, speaking of? Should I just wait here, or should I try to navigate the awful upside down maze you created while I wait for your self-imposed penance for the day to end?" Man you were annoying. Man you knew him well.

"I'll finish up soon. Wait here," his face softened as he looked over at you. You were making yourself comfortable on a chair, placing your aids to the side and getting into that position you liked to sit in. The one that seemed uncomfortable, but you swore was best for your hypermobile joints.

You reminded him a lot of Lyla. Lyla, who Xina had programmed to heckle him. Lyla, who he never had the heart to reprogram. You knew all his buttons. Just like Lyla. Just like Xina... You were also like Gwen. He had initially seen you as much more like Gwen. You had a baby face, so he had assumed you were younger. You had half-shaved hair, which you had actually gotten done because of some singer in your dimension, the year before Spiderverse came out. You had always loved Gwen Stacy, though. It wasn't hard to see why. You were smart, you liked nerds, you were incredibly confident, you were kind of punk, but also hilariously materialistic, not in a fancy clothes way but in a "I have to have this figure or I will cry" way. You were a lot like the Gwen of 120703. You loved that Gwen.

You were very different from all of them, though. He remembered stumbling upon your dimension by accident. A dimension where there were no heroes. A dimension where there were somehow still supervillains. A dimension where, even when faced with a lack of heroes, some people still had hope. You were one of them. He had initially infantalized you. Your mobility aids, your interests, the baby face, the fact that you clearly needed a caregiver, but stubbornly lived on your own all made him see you as younger than you were. You had had many arguments before he finally realized how capable you are. That you're tougher than most Spiders are, save for Sun Spider, who has EDS (you LOVED Sun Spider). That you deal with 24/7 full body pain, work a full-time job, and somehow manage to take care of yourself.

You had shown him so much. Like punk versions of him that you thought were hot. He hated them. He hated that you found that attractive. It made him question for a moment if his appearance was alright. Of course, you would like piercings and tattoos. You had multiple of each. He never really thought much of it before. You had shown him art of him pregnant. You both hated that one. He had learned so much about you. In a way, he had become the caregiver you needed. He made sure you ate, he popped into your dimension to help with your laundry, he helped you on low mobility days, he cooked for you, he helped you set up appointments and refill meds when your brain just wouldn't cooperate. He admired you. He thought you were incredibly strong. He made you empanadas because they're a safe food for you. He secretly loved the way you loved his cooking.

You cared for him. Really, truly, deeply cared. You had listened to his pain and felt it like it was your own. You were so empathetic. He realized that your disabilities and baby face and your being a few years younger didn't matter at all. You were more mature than he was. You knew pain, you lived with pain, you had lost so much and had dealt with it a long time ago. You helped him pick apart his mind, healing what had been broken by grief. He had spent so many nights sitting on the floor of your apartment, next to your couch, pouring his heart out to you. The girl who had fan art of him up on her walls. He was pretty sure he loved you, but too worried he was confusing gratefulness for that painful emotion he hadn't felt in so long that he couldn't bring himself to say anything. You were in love. How could you not be? He let you see him so vulnerable. He was also 6'9, built like a tank, perfect dark skin and hair, newly emotionally open, and had clearly come to genuinely respect you, in a way you struggled to find as a disabled woman. You were much less subtle about your feelings than he was. You flirted constantly. But he was as dense as his muscles.

"Alright, I'm done, cariño," Miguel said. "Time to go back to your dimension, and get you some food. Did you actually eat today?"

"Uhhhh, what answer do you want to that?" You said, only half joking, with a nervous laugh.

"You'll be the death of me, hermosa"

He was used to the quips. He was used to the forgetting to eat. He was used to it all, and he hoped it could stay that way. Miguel O'Hara loved how you annoyed him. And he hoped you would continue to, for at least as long as Lyla has.

[virile-vixen]

Quiet in The Library

"Alright, Tsukasa... Game face. You can do this... It's only a whole manor full of vampires, killer maids, a dragon, and a powerful mage, right? Easy pickings..."

Absolutely not, but... Her curiosity was overwhelming. Honestly, she wasn't sure what she was expecting to find; approaching the manor from an angle other than the front gate. However, she had already managed to convince herself that this was a recon-only sort of mission. Try to get a layout of the mansion, what sort of potential mates there may have been... Then come up with an idea from there. Easy. Honestly, slipping in was the easiest part... A small little tube-fox, barely the size of a least weasel, slipping in through a cracked window... only to transform into something even less conspicuous: a dime-a-dozen fairy maid. She'd practiced this routine a dozen times, by now; having observed her prey through the windows for some time. Slip in, transform, linger behind a passing group of maids while pretending to busy herself with cleaning... As long as she didn't run into the head maid herself, she should be in the clear.

Fairies are dumb, after all...

She mused to herself, as she made her way to a large pair of doors. The plaque on the door read "Grand Library"; and instantly Tsukasa thought of the cozy, shut-in mage. She's heard about her, in rumor only... Never actually had she gotten a chance to see her; let alone meet her. Might be worth the look~ So, checking to see that the group she tailed had passed on, she slipped in; quiet as a mouse...

The library quite fit its name. So in awe of the sheer scale of the room, Tsukasa nearly forgot what she had came for. If she could only just get a peek at the fabled magician, she'd be satisfied... Perhaps, even, she could find where she lays her head at night~ Carefully, and while still keeping up the facade of cleaning, she dusted the shelves and took careful peeks inside any doors she may find...

@gensinkyo

[wcrriorhearts]

She could tell that Cecilia appreciated the apple pie the second it touched the table. From what she had gleamed, this had been a special treat for the girl back at home and even though it perhaps brought back unpleasant memories, given the situation she was in at the moment, Vesta hoped she could draw some sort of comfort from it. "Oh, no, I can't bake", she said, shaking her head and blushing a little. She had never baked anything in her life and her family also didn't have the money to buy ingredients like that most of the time. Luckily for them, Ma Plinth had taken a liking to the Snows and made sure they didn't starve to death. That, and of course Tigris' relentless work to ensure that they kept a roof over their heads and some sort of food in their fridge. Vesta felt useless compared to her cousin, but then again, so was her grandmother, who rather pretended and lived in an alternate reality, than accept their fate and actually take care of the children she had been entrusted with years ago. Even though Vesta had grown up in her house since the day she was born, she had never actually taken care of her a day in her life.

"No, my brother is friends with the Plinths. Ma Plinth is an exceptional cook and baker, so I asked her for a pie. She is always eager to feed me, because she thinks I am too skinny." Which was the truth, but that was due to the many medical conditions Vesta had, as well as the effect of growing up in poverty and during the dark times. Just like Cecilia, Vesta knew very well was hunger was and had not grown up with an abundance of resources, despite their name and formerly high status in society. All of that had been a facade long before she was born and her father had been killed. She leaned down and took a knife out of the basket, prompting on of the guards to step closer when he saw it, but she only threw him a glare and cut the pie into 8 pieces. Knowing Cecilia, she would want to share with her fellow tribute, so Vesta ensured that she could do so and still have some leftovers for herself. Who knew how often they were fed here.

"How's the accommodation? Do they feed you?", she asked, looking around the common room. It looked clean enough, albeit without luxuries, but she hoped the tributes at least had access to showers and proper meals here, although the wasn't entirely sure she should get her hopes up for that, given how they had been treated previously. Vesta put the knife back into her basket and handed Vesta a fork, so that they could start eating. She wasn't going to let this cake go to waste either, given she had not eaten anything since breakfast and was starving just as much as her tribute. "How did training go after I left?"

There  was  little  she  could  do  while  waiting  for  Vesta  to  arrive.  In  fact,  all  she  did  was  pace  around  the  room.  Cecilia  had  tried  to  just  sit  and  wait  but  she  had  been  far  too  restless,  nervous  even.  It  was  just  a  dinner,  she  tried  to  tell  herself,  but  she  didn’t  know  what  to  expect.  Not  really. Sit  through  the  dinner,  survive  the  Games,  get  back  home.  It  was  the  one  thing  she  kept  telling  herself  and  it  somewhat  calmed  her  nerves.  In  a  way,  she  felt  bad  for  thinking  this  way  because  Vesta  had  been  nothing  but  kind  to  her.  A  part  of  her  would  miss  her  even,  she  was  sure  of  it.

A  small  smile  appeared  on  her  face  when  she  saw  the  younger  girl,  although  it  surprised  her  to  see  her  in  a  new  outfit.  But  that  was  the  way  of  the  Capitol,  wasn’t  it?  Sitting  down  at  the  table  together,  Cecilia  was  excited  to  see  what  Vesta  had  brought  along.  The  people  in  the  Capitol  had  far  more  food  than  they  could  dream  of  in  the  Districts  and  it  was  still  something  that  irritated  her  but  this  felt  different.  It  wasn’t  meant  to  show  off  how  much  they  had,  at  least  with  Vesta  she  knew  it  was  a  kind  gesture.

Cecilia  gasped  the  moment  she  smelled  the  fresh  apple  pie.  Eyes  widened,  she  leaned  forward  to  take  a  closer  look  as  if  she  couldn’t  believe  that  it  was  real.  “You  really  got  an  apple  pie?  For  me?”  She  fell  silent  after  that,  having  to  push  down  her  emotions,  although  the  watery  eyes  could  have  given  her  away.  Fresh  apple  pie…  when  was  the  last  time  she  had  gotten  something  like  that?  If  only  she  could  share  it  with  Tyva  –  it  felt  more  than  wrong  that  her  sister  did  not  get  to  enjoy  a  warm  piece  of  pie.  “Thank  you,  Vesta.  You  have  no  idea  what  that  means  to  me.  Did  you  make  this  yourself?”

[hunrising]

What’s baffling to me is that according to what western governments/media said these past days, hamas shouldn’t have attacked civilians in response to the violence they’ve been suffering for decades because it violates international laws, and I agree, civilians shouldn’t have been victims of an attack like this. However now, according to those same people, Israel has the absolute right to defend itself and have no other option but to respond aggressively, no matter how many civilians get caught in the crossfire, and thus also violating international laws? I’ve been racking my brain to see if I’m missing something, or if all of these politicians and journalists are intentionally contradicting themselves in order to please each other?

[azriaann]

redesigning lucy’s stardresses (because she deserves to have actually somewhat useful transformations and not a bikini for every single one) ALSO the pole is an axe i forgot to label it

[myokk]

“She’s tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me”😤😤😤

(Regency AU with Eloise and Sebastian inspired by my slow trek through Bridgerton these days & @bassicallymaestra ‘s AMAZING regency inspired art😮‍💨😇🙏)

[alicentflorent]

“Valeryian steel armour felt like something Aegon the conqueror would have had from his time in old Valeryia.” - Ryan Condal

Guys.. who’s gonna tell him?

[yoosung-ah]