#but i haven't really seen fic writers do it

[tennessoui]

ko-fi fic uploads

hey guys, I'm going to start putting some of my new tumblr prompt fills and writing warm-ups (ficlets of 4k-6k length) up on my ko-fi!!

Monthly supporters will be able to go into the gallery tab on my ko-fi and click on an uploaded image. The title will be which tumblr-based au the ficlet fits into and how many words it is. The description beneath the image will be a quick summary of the au and a link to the google doc containing the ficlet. The "root" au post, aka the post that started the au on my blog, will be linked as well on that google doc.

This will not affect my wips and progress on them in any way! I feel like that's very important to state - I write these sorts of ficlets all the time because it helps get me in the writing mindset for writing ao3 fics. I will just be spending a little extra effort on them to put them up on ko-fi.

I will NOT be posting any ficlets on my ko-fi that you need to read to understand a fic on ao3 - that's some disney monster conglomerate kind of shit. I will also still be posting shorter ficlets (1k-3k) on tumblr as I write them, especially if I'm answering a prompt someone sent me here. Again, I think it'd be a bit of dick move to not do that

I'll try to vary which ficlets go up on ko-fi and every time I upload one, I'll make a post about which au it is as well as a link to the page in case anyone wants to, idk, unsubscribe for a month because they hate the hopeless in coruscant au, and then refollow next month because they enjoy the playmaker au etc etc

I'm definitely still trying to figure out what I want this to look like and what feels fair or reasonable, so hopefully this isn't a huge mess on my end!

All this being said:

I've posted the first ficlet/fic on ko-fi: it's for the Senator Menace AU, an au that's basically "What if phantom menace but reversed? how fucked up would anakin get over the youngling his father master died to protect?"

the first au post is here // my ko-fi is here

[anyroads]

Posts I've seen in just the last week:

AO3 is one of the most visited sites in the world

It's ok if your fanfic [that you're writing for free in your spare time] is unfinished! You do you!

How very dare these WGA writers not finish writing my stories for me [that they spend full work days every day working on] just because they don't get compensated fairly for their paid labor and decided to go on strike?

Respect unions! Unionize your workplace! Respect picket lines!

Posts I have not seen ever but maybe it's just me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ :

AO3 would not exist without the paid writers who are currently striking. You would have no stories to write fanfic of. The entire world your fic exists in was created by someone else's labor.

[gravegoer]

How do you think sevika would react if her partner said the safe word? I NEED TO KNOW PLEASE

And i really love your work, thank you so much!!

Safeword 𓂃۶ৎ

thank you for the ask! and the complement, i dont know what your guys' safe word would be, knowing sevika it would just be safeword, nothing sexy, also funfact i usually write my captions before my fics so idrk if this is gonna hcs or a fic so a mystery for us both ig

masterlist , like 800 words idk i kinda hate this

Sevika had a rough day, and it was obvious through the way she manhandled you that night, teeth marks strewn about your body, as well as light bruises.

You were starting to get more tired by the minute, hands barely grasping her back whilst she towered over her.

The sticky sweat on your body and the heat of the room started to get overwhelming, and you felt as if you might suffocate in the heavy air.

Her thick fingers were sloppily fucking your entrance, making you groan in overstimulation.

You lightly tapped her back, murmuring your shared safeword, before throwing your head back out of exhaustion.

Sevika would hesitate a bit before realizing what you said and coming to a stop. She feels a bit bad for her roughness and reaches to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye. (with not the coochie juice fingers)

Her lips that framed previously gritted teeth were now pressed together in a small pout.

She pulls you into her lap, your head now lulling onto her shoulder she runs a rough hand up your back and through your hair.

Her thick fingers untangle some of the knots she caused.

"Sorry. Are you okay?"

You hum in response, causing Sevika to furrow her brows, pulling your face from her shoulder. She plants a kiss, much gentler than before, to your eyelid.

This is the gentlest you've seen her all week (mostly because you haven't seen her much). Your interactions mostly consisted of a small peck or her ranting angerly about Silco.

Scooping you up, she carries you on her hip to the bathroom, running a wash cloth under warm water to rub down your skin.

Planting kisses down your neck, she mutters apologies into the bruises she left.

If you shiver from the coldness of the counter, she's immediately pulling you back into her, cradling you while she wipes your face with a damp hand.

She's taking her tie out of her hair to secure yours, pulling the uncomfortable stray strands from your face.

Although she does take a moment to admire your state, hair messy and lips swollen, looking up at her through lidded eyes.

Offering you a guilty smile, she carries you back to the bedroom, gently laying you atop the sheets.

Sevika tilts your chin up to pour cool water in your mouth, contrasting the hot kiss that comes after it.

She lets you lay atop her chest, offering her warmth as another apology.

And its definitely her turn to make breakfast in the morning.

very short, whoops writers block threw multiple bricks at me and broke all my fingers so i cant write properly

taglist: @thequeenreaders @hangezoes-wife @thesecondhandwoman @slut4sevika @archangeldyke-all @kylorey25 @sylencr @jinxjinxjinx12 @morphids @aizawasbaeee @ariya13 @tiyawnyana

[lis-likes-fics]

Caught Up

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Word Count: 3.2k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, fingering, swearing, Spencer being way to sweet for anyone's own good... A/N: I've had a major writer's block since the beginning of November and this is literally the only thing I've been able to write so I hope you enjoy this bite-size fic. Hopefully, I'll be back in my groove soon and I'll be able to write more again. Until then, thank you and happy holidays!

Your relationship with Spencer had caught the both of you by surprise.

You met at a bar. You were solemnly eating peanuts as you traced the lip of your first glass of a vodka cranberry, sipping slowly and hardly even touched. Spencer was out with Penelope, Derek, and Emily, who'd found time for a drink after a busy work day.

You hadn't intended to go home with anyone that night. You were bored and a little lonely, trying to find a way to pass the night that wasn't you cooped up in your apartment watching movies in bed.

Spencer had seen you there, sitting alone and looking far too pretty for anyone's good. Derek had to shove him just to get him to go talk to you—he'd been staring long enough that it's a wonder you hadn't noticed.

When Spencer came up to you, you took one look at his pretty face and your night was already improving immensely. He was so unbelievably beautiful—sharp-jawed, long-haired, with eyes of caramel and a smile as bright as the sun. He talked your ear off about things you knew nothing about and nearly stuttered every time you tilted your head while he spoke. He kept apologizing for ranting, to which you kept telling him that listening to him speak was the only thing you wanted to do (he'd get all flustered and fall into another bout about prions or how humans bred dogs to bark).

He was endearing and lovely and kept telling you that you were so beautiful, and you were immediately taken with him. You stared at him like he was the one who created the stars in the sky.

So you took him home that night—which had also come as a surprise.

You honestly hadn't meant for it to happen. You invited him over for a cup or coffee (the bar would close soon, you'd talked for that long), and in the middle of one of his rants, you kissed him. It would have just been a kiss, but Spencer Reid kisses like you're air itself and he's been suffocated for years. You found your way into his lap, and the next thing you knew, he was laying you on your bed and kissing you and touching you and making you feel like the most special girl on Earth.

The first time was full of care. He was kind, he checked up on you at every turn, he used soft lips and softer hands. He held you close during every embrace and backed every touch with another kiss just to make sure you were perfectly comfortable. When you woke the next morning, he kissed you again and greeted you with coffee. (He'd profiled you based on your coffee cabinet and managed to make it to perfection.)

You would spend that day wrapped up in him, listening to him speak and telling him your life story like you were a book and he was your first reader (too eager to be known that you share every single detail you have to give just so you can be held a little longer in someone's hands). It's important to note that his speedy words and listening ears were not the only thing to embrace you that day.

He treated you well, and you treated him just as well. He made you laugh, he made you smile, he made you feel safe and happy.

Through the time you've been together, Spencer has come to learn a lot about you. You don't like eating with big spoons. You have an analog clock because you love the way it looks (you don't really use it), and the ticking drives you crazy at night but you refuse to switch to digital. You love to bake but you still haven't managed to perfect a cake from scratch (which drives you insane because you really can bake, you swear!).

But one of the things Spencer learned quickly is that you have a very high sex drive. You told him that, for a while, you thought you were a nymphomaniac. Then he described the full psychology of a nymphomaniac, and you decided that it may have been a bit of an exaggeration.

Either way, he was very happy to satiate your needs. At first, it was difficult to spend time together without falling into bed. And it's not like you didn't try! But the more he looked at you and the more he spoke and the more he told you how pretty you looked, the harder it was to keep from jumping his bones. He had a similar experience with you.

He was no sex god like he assumed Morgan to be, but the more he indulged, the harder it was not to think about getting to hold you, to kiss you, to taste you. He found immense pleasure in your pleasure. He once burned his hand at work pouring himself a cup of coffee because he got distracted thinking about something as simple as holding your hand or kissing your lips, which led to worse and worse until he found himself lucky the coffee wasn't freshly brewed.

It was hard to deny the other. You couldn't even say no when he asked you to hold his hand while you walked down a street, how were you supposed to say no when he got on his knees and looked up at you like you were the moon? How was he supposed to say no when you looked at when you ran your fingers through his curls and kissed the spot behind his ear?

Even now, it's an accident. He's looping his tie in front of the big mirror hanging from your closet door, trying to get ready for work. He catches your reflection, laying across the bed in sleep shorts and a dainty tee, a pillow clutched in your arms beneath you as you watched him. You don't say anything, you don't move, you just look at him as he gets ready. And he thinks, How am I supposed to leave when she looks like that?

“Spencer?” You murmur after a bit, watching him card his fingers through his hair.

“Yes, angel?” He says it with all the sweetness of a kiss and all the familiarity of your name.

You smile at him, holding your hand out for him. He melts like butter, stepping toward you to take your fingers in the palm of his hand. He squeezes twice. “What?” he whispers without cruelty, without urgency, a simple question to know what you're thinking.

You shrug. “Nothing,” you mumble. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

His smile alone could make you cry. He bends down onto his knees, his elbows on the bed as he reaches for you. The pad of his fingers finds your temples, sliding gently into your hair until he's cradling your head like a basketball. He brings you forward, kisses your lips with the softest touch.

Your smile curves against his lips. You scoot forward enough to relieve some of the strain of reaching, tilting your head so your noses slide with each up and down of your heads. Your hands come to hold his wrists, gentle fingertips caressing the skin like you're testing the smoothness of marble.

When you break away, it's because a soft laugh erupts from his throat. You pull back in slight surprise, your brows furrowed in question as you chuckle lightly. “What?” you breathe.

He shakes his head, his fingers finding your cheeks. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I just don't know how I got so lucky…”

You can't handle it when he says stuff like that. Your heart is beating so hard in your chest, you think you'll have to go to the hospital. Whatever patterns it's taken up can definitely be described as irregular, and you're going to have heart disease.

“I'm the lucky one,” you try to say.

But he shakes his head again. “Trust me, it's me.”

You're the one who shakes her head next, kissing him again with your hands cradling his neck. “You're so perfect,” you mutter between kisses.

Spencer's hand covers your mouth. It's nothing cruel, just his fingers curling gently over your lips as an uncontrollable smile takes over his. “Stop,” he chuckles, though his voice is dripping with regret. “We can't.”

You move his hand down. “We're just kissing.”

He rubs the tip of his nose into your cheek, inhaling your scent before pulling away reluctantly. “We have a pattern.” He takes both your hands in his, stroking the back of your palms with his thumb. “Every time you kiss me with your hands on my neck, we have sex.”

You giggle, and it's the sweetest thing. “Not every time,” you smile.

He kisses you quickly, like a millisecond longer would lead to more than just kissing. “Eight times out of ten.” He looks at your face, sighing gently and feeling a pang in his chest knowing that he has to leave you soon. He can't be late again this week.

He paints a line down your cheek with his knuckles. “Do you want to come over tonight?” He pinches your chin gently. “Or I could come over and bring takeout?”

You caress his cheekbones with your nails, tracing the blush in his skin. “I'll bring you takeout tonight.”

He smiles. “You sure? I can get it.”

Your laughter is so comfortable, it sounds more like a giggle. “So can I. Let me spoil you.” You kiss him again.

He sighs, the sound fond in and of itself. “Okay.” Spencer stands to his feet, holding his hand out to you. “Give me a proper hug, angel.” It sounds more hopeful than it does demanding.

You stand on the edge of the bed, towering over him as you wrap your arms around his head. He holds you tight, laying his head on your chest and inhaling your scent. You stay there for a while, holding the other like it's the last time you'll ever hold each other.

You cradle his neck again, kissing him with a gentle sigh. His head tilts backward to give you the space, grabbing your waist as his thumbs trace your skin the same way your thumbs trace his cheeks. The more you try to break away, the deeper you make the kiss. His hands are so warm, and his lips are so soft. You'd be remiss if you didn't bask in him.

Spencer's lips slide off your own to kiss the corner of them, brushing against your jawline as you lift your chin to let him. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, a little whine. “I really need to go…”

You chuckle lightly, your breath thin the more he kisses your neck. “Go,” you sigh, the word quiet and half-heartedly, though not intended to be. “I'll see you tonight…”

His hands tighten on your waist, dipping beneath your shirt so he can feel your soft skin in his palms. He makes that sound again, dipping his head slightly to press open-mouthed kisses to your chest. Your lips part, shallow breaths passing through them as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

He pulls you closer to him, one arm around your back as the other bends your knee. Your legs wrap around his waist, and he holds you up with strong arms. “I have to go now,” he mumbles between heated kisses.

You nod, making no move to unravel from him. “I know.” A kiss. “Have a good day, honey.”

He bends down, laying you on the bed and ducking his hand beneath your shirt. His palm gropes your breast, his thumb tweaks your nipple. You gasp against his lips.

His free hand grabs at your waist. He kneads it in his palm, he presses his fingers into your skin. He brushes his knuckles over your flesh and smiles when you shudder. “Feel good?” he whispers.

You nod, carding your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “Yeah. Really good.”

“Good,” he kisses your neck. His hand sinks lower, his finger hooking into the waistband of your shorts. “This okay?”

Your nod is quicker this time, more enthused. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, please.”

Spencer pulls your shorts down your legs, helping you take them off without once ever pulling away from you. He strokes your newly exposed skin, humming deep in his throat at the feeling of it. You hike your knee higher up his side, opening yourself up for him.

His hand dips between your legs, fingers curling around the inside of your thigh. He strokes a short line up and down.

A tiny curse slips past your lips. “Can you touch me, Spence? Just a little?”

He whines again, heavier breaths puffing from parted lips. “I want to,” he says. “But I have work, and–” He interrupts himself, leaning down to capture your lips.

When he pulls back, you're nodding. “Y-Yeah. Go, baby. Go work and then… then when you get back–”

He pushes a long, slender finger inside of you. Your breath hitches, your lips pressing messily together. You feel the slightest shake of his head, his nose bumping yours. A second finger joins the first, splitting you open as a moan spills past your lips. A tiny smile spreads his mouth.

You tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, your hips lifting toward his hand when he thrusts his fingers gently in and out of you. “Ah, fuck, Spence.”

His mouth latches onto your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his teeth lightly grazing as his tongue darts out to taste it. Your hand tightens a bit to take a fistful of his hair. You don't yank his hair, but you can hear the tiny grunts that come out of him at the light tugs at his scalp.

His fingers curl inside you, pumping deep and slow and building up the more you gasp around him. “Does this feel good?” he asks breathlessly into the skin of your neck.

You nod, clenching around his fingers as your eyes squeeze shut. “Yes, baby. Please don't stop,” you sigh with each in and out of his fingers. The deep strokes are warm and inviting, like shining a light through your fingers to see it glow. You roll your hips to meet the movements of his hand, and reward his intoxicating thrusts with short gasps.

He presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, and you feel yourself giving in. His lips and teeth and tongue trace your collarbone, and you know he'll leave you today with a wonderful mark just below it to remind you of him (although he'll apologize and ask you if he hurt you when he sees it, then he'll kiss it better, which will lead to this all over again).

His fingers stroke deep inside you, curling and pumping and pulling your release closer and closer. He's coaxing it out of you with the kindness of beckoning a scared animal. He loves on your skin and whispers how wonderful you are and makes it more and more impossible for you to let him go all day long.

You wish you could spend forever wrapped up in bed with him. You don't even have to do anything. You would be completely and utterly content laying against him and talking, or letting him talk, or sitting in silence and simply enjoying his company.

A knot is building in your belly—one that you've become quite accustomed to feeling these past few weeks. The tighter it wounds, the deeper you breathe as you arch your chest into his mouth. He continues to embrace you, whispering, “That's it, angel. Just breathe. I've got you, I promise. I'm right here. Let go for me.” He coos your name like it's the sweetest thing in the world and smiles when you coo his back.

Your hands cradle his head as the knot snaps and sends a wave of pleasure over your body, taking you under and letting you breathe in the ecstasy. It's not explosive by any means, but it's warm and comforting and covers you in goosebumps as you card your fingers through his hair and pet him and hold him as close as you can as he continues to kiss and coo and curl.

Your breath shudders and shakes with the rest of your body, interrupted only by whimpers and the humming of his name on your lips.

Spencer pulls his fingers from the wet warmth between your thighs and kisses you with all the intimacy of your orgasm. You sigh into his lips and let yourself be taken by his consuming care.

“You're so perfect,” he whispers into your lips, kissing you in short pecks over and over and over again like he just can't get enough of you. “You know that? I used to believe that it is statistically and theoretically impossible for a human being to be perfect, but then you come along and destroy any idea of it that I've ever had.”

You both laugh, happy breaths in each other's spaces as you indulge in the other between more drunken kisses. “Guess that's why you call me angel.”

His smile rivals the sun. You don't think you can stare at him much longer, but you also don't think you could ever forgive yourself if you looked away.

“You are my angel,” he says, another kiss. Then a sigh of regret and, quite frankly, remorse pushes out from his chest. “And I have to go to work now. Hotch will be furious that I'm late again.”

You kiss him again, keeping it short. “Sorry for keeping you, doctor.”

He laughs. He's full of laughs when he's with you. “I don't regret it one bit.”

You help him tidy up once more so that he looks presentable again. You smooth out his clothes, comb your fingers through his hair, and kiss his cheek to avoid getting distracted again. You walk him to your door, arms around backs and tucked into the other.

He opens the door and turns back to you, picking up your hands in his and squeezing them gently. “I'll see you tonight?” His eyes sparkle with all the hope in the world. He's going to give you irregular heartbeats. You're going to get sick and die.

“Of course, handsome.” You lean up on your toes, hands on his chest as you peck his lips. It's short and sweet, he doesn't even have time to close his eyes. Yet when you sit back on your feet, his eyes are closed.

He smiles, lingering for a moment. He looks at you. “You didn't touch my neck.”

You chuckle lightly, patting his chest. “Well…we have a pattern.” You pull his bag back up his arm, resting it on his shoulder. “I'll see you tonight, Spence.”

He cradles your elbows, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your skin. “Bye, angel.” He gives you a dangerous kiss to your lips, and then he's gone.

You're left watching him walk down the hall, leaning on your door frame and smiling after him like some lovesick fool. To be fair, you are a lovesick fool. After all, your heart’s doing flips. You should schedule a doctor's appointment.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 @hits-different-cause-its-you Dr. Reid taglist: @swwanlake @imgonnaslurpu Tag yourself here...

[elliezato]

‪‪❤︎‬She's Jealous‪‪❤︎‬

pairing: modern!ellie williams x reader

summary: Ellie gets jealous when she sees you kissing another girl

warnings: MDNI! cursing, drugs/alcohol, fingering, bathroom sex, public sex??

a/n: This is my first fanfic so idk how to feel about thisss. Also, I feel like this story isn't very original but I keep replaying this situation in my head, helpp. I'm open to recommendations! I will probably only write ellie x reader fics for now but let me know what you want and I'll write it! I get writer's block and need inspo!! Anyway... I hope you enjoy:)

♡︎.You and Ellie have been broken up for about a month now.

Parties have never really been your thing but your friend Dina has been begging you to go to one with her.

"It's been almost a month. You can't keep isolating yourself in your dorm like this."

You lay on your bed while Dina tries to convince you to go out tonight. She's right though. Things haven't been the same since you and Ellie broke up.

"Listen. Come to the party tonight. I hate that this breakup is holding you back. who knows. maybe you'll meet someone!"

Dina leaves and you make up your mind.

You change into a pleated mini skirt and throw on some baby tee you haven't worn since your relationship. Ellie liked it when you wore skirts and you knew that. Some part of you was hoping she would be there so she could see you. You apply a thin wing of eyeliner and put on your docs.

----------------------------------------------------------

Later that night you walk into the party. The house smells of weed and music covers the sound of people talking. You see Dina and Jesse from across the room. They're drinking and dancing with a few other of your friends. You hesitantly walk over to join them.

"Y/N!! thank god you're here!" Dina hugs you with one arm and a drink in the other.

"Damn, this is the first time I've seen you out since... you know" Jesse laughed as he took a sip from a red solo cup.

You sat on the couch and drank as you watched your friends enjoy the night. You hated yourself that you couldn't get up and have fun. The air felt hot and there was nothing left in your cup. As you get up to get another drink you feel eyes on you.

There she was. Ellie stood there with a drink in her hand. Your heart sank. This was the first time you've been in the same room as her since the heat of the breakup. Her eyes were on you as you slowly walked past her to get a drink. You look at the ground as you pass her, doing everything you can to avoid eye contact. When you look up to get another cup, you see Ellie standing in front of you. As she opens her mouth she say something to you, you feel hands on your waist.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing at a party alone?" The girl looks you up and down with a soft smile on her face.

From the corner of your eye, you see Ellie take a sip from her drink and walk away. You feel yourself sadden as Ellie leaves your presence. Fingers run down your waist. You look behind you and the girl is still there. It's been a long time since someone has hit on you. Honestly, the last time you romantically got attention from someone was with Ellie.

"You alright? What's upsetting you baby?" The girl whispers in your ear.

At this point, you'll do anything to get your mind off Ellie. A new relationship isn't what you want but it couldn't hurt. You turn around and face the girl. You've never seen her before but she's honestly really pretty. It wouldn't be hard to distract yourself around someone this attractive.

"m'nothin" The alcohol is hitting you. Usually, you'd feel guilty flirting with anyone other than Ellie, but right now, nothing matters.

She pulls you closer by your waist and passionately places a kiss on your lips. The sudden proximity makes you tense. Her hand travels down your hips while the other grabs your face. Something about this feels wrong but you push the thoughts back.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I came with my friend and promised I wouldn't leave her" You lied so bad, you almost cringed.

You remove yourself from the girl's grasp and take your drink as you walk away from her. The pain of the breakup is sinking in again. You wander around the party to find Dina but she's off with Jesse. There's no point in being at that party anymore. You down the rest of your drink and walk outside. The air is cold and dry. Snow falls gently as the music from the party echoes.

"What the fuck were you doing? Kissing another girl? Already?" Ellie stares at you with a joint between her lips.

"Ellie." You look at her in shock.

"We've been broken up for barely a month and you're already making moves on other women!?" She laughs under her breath as a cloud of smoke leaves her lips.

"Why do you even care. We're not together" You look at her with sad eyes. The tough act was never your strong suit.

She grabs your face with one hand and tilts your head towards her. You gasp at her touch. Snow falls down on the both of you. Your breath is visible in the cold air and the only thing keeping you warm is the heat of the situation.

"Are you trying to make me jealous, hmm?" She looks at you with lustful eyes.

"No! she kissed me..." Your voice trails off as you feel the touch of Ellie's fingers trace your jaw.

Nothing could've prepared you for this. The last time you two spoke was the breakup. This was a topic that was hard for the both of you. Clearly, the thought of the other stayed lingering in your minds. Her touch felt nice. You could feel yourself practically melting in her hand. The similar scent of weed got stronger as her face got closer.

"It worked." She takes one last hit of her joint before tossing it on the ground.

"What?" You look at her dazed and confused. Your eyes soften as her fingers trail down your neck

"I'm jealous." She admitted as she tightened her grip on your face. "Let's go back inside and show them who you belong to, yeah?" Ellie gives you a dirty grin.

You follow her back into the party. Even with Ellie, you didn't want to be back in there but that didn't matter in the moment. She walks through the crowd of people holding on tightly to your waist. You look over at her face a notice a cocky grin stuck to her lips. You can feel the eyes of the other girl you were with earlier staring at you. Ellie notices the girl staring at you. She grabs your face in front of her and kisses you. You pause as her lips touch yours. You missed this. Fuck. You missed her touch so bad. Leaning in for more, Ellie playfully pushes you away.

"God you're just as needy as I remembered." She pulls you away from the crown and leads you into an empty bathroom.

Ellie pushes you against the door causing it to shut behind you. Her lips passionately press against yours. You let your hands roam her figure. Fingers running underneath her baggy band tee. She grabs your hands and pulls them away.

"You're not getting it that easily" She glares at you as she takes your wrists by one hand and holds them above your head. "I'm going to make sure everyone knows how good I'm fucking you" Her breath is hot against your ear.

Her tongue explores your mouth and her other hand runs up your shirt. You let out a soft moan as her fingers draw circles around your nipple. She lets go of your hands and strips off your shirt. Her kisses move down your neck, leaving marks for everyone to know she you were hers. Her tongue reaches your nipples and she traces small circles around them. Her mouth moves further down your chest. Fingers moving down your waist meeting the hem of your skirt. She stops kissing your body and looks up at you. Her fingers slide up your skirt and meet your damp underwear.

"Fuck- You're so wet and I've bearly touched you" She continues kissing down your waist.

She pulls your underwear down your legs and throws them off. Her fingers finally graze your wet folds. She picks you up by your waist and places you on the counter. The granite is cold against your thighs. She sloppily kisses your lips as she inserts a finger into you. You throw your head back and hum at her touch. She grabs your chin and forces you to look at her.

"Look at me while I fuck you with my fingers." She glares up at you. Her face is desperate to feel you.

Your hands run through her hair as she pulls her finger out. She adds another finger and slams them into you. You hold the counter with one hand and the other pulling at Ellie's half-up half-down updo. You're holding in your moans remembering there's a crowd of people right behind that door. You close your eyes as Ellie curls her fingers inside of you, hitting the right spots.

"Fuck Els- s'good" You quietly whimper trying to hold back.

Tears are forming in your eyes. You can feel the warmth building up in your stomach. Ellie can feel you're close. She stops her motions and pulls her fingers out of your cunt. Your slick coats her fingers, dripping down her arm. She brings her fingers to your mouth. You clean Ellie's fingers with your tongue, whimpering for more action.

"I'm not going to give you anything if you're not going to moan for me. I want to hear you" Her fingers slide out of your mouth and find their way back down to your inner thighs.

"They're gonna hear" You bite your lip as your thighs press together.

"That's the point baby. Tell me how bad you've missed me" She keeps eye contact as she moves her face down to your hips.

She pulls your tighs apart, spreading your folds with her finger. Her tongue rests right above your clit, waiting for you to beg.

"Fuck- I need you Els. I need you to fuck me." You give into her commands wanting to feel her touch.

She finally complies and licks circles around your puffy bud. She thrusts her fingers into you once again while tasting you on her tongue. You squirm under her touch. Pornographic moans leave your lips as she starts to suck your clit. Tears fill your eyes as you look down at Ellie taking you in.

"You taste so good, I've missed your pretty pussy" She smiles against your folds removing her fingers.

The vibrations of her voice cause you to moan as you push her face closer to you. Her tongue slides down your folds and she pushes it into you. At this point, you're a moaning mess. Anyone who walks by that bathroom knows what's happening. Her nose gently rubs against your clit as her tongue fucks you.

"mmm~ i'm gonna fucking cum-" Your hips grind against her face.

She holds your waits pulling you closer. Her tongue slides out and sucks your cunts as her fingers push deep inside you. The heat in your stomach feels like it's going to burst. Only Ellie could have you panting and desperate to cum like this in a bathroom.

"That's it baby, cum for me okay?" She feels how close you are.

Her pace fastens as she gets you to release onto her fingers. Your hips buckle as whimpers and moans fill the room. She continues but slows her pace milking your orgasm. She licks the wetness from your cunt and you pant in her arms.

"I missed you" Your eyes look at her as she moves closer to your face, kissing your lips.

You can taste yourself in her mouth as she sloppy kisses you. She holds your waist and guides you off the counter. You're a mess. Makeup is running down your face and your hair is falling from the ponytail it was in. Eille was still completely dressed as she watches you put your clothes back on. She takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on your neck.

"You're such a slut for me" She grins as she places her hand on the door nob. "I don't want to ever see you tasting another girl's lips, got it" You nod in response.

You realized how hot the room was when Ellie opened the door and you felt the coolness of the party on your skin. She takes you by the waist and leads you back into the party. Ellie wore a cocky smile knowing she was the only person at this party who could get you moaning like that. Eyes were on you when people realized who was in the bathroom.

[frownyalfred]

Hi. I'm not a canon purist and enjoy some fanon content very much, but I do think people in the fandom should at least familiarize themselves with the canon content and source material. It's easier to break the "rules" so to speak and experiment with canon when you know what that actually is. I've noticed a lot of fans that are only familiar with fanon criticise content that doesn't line up with what they believe to be canon but isn't. The Red Hood for example. I've seen writers who portray him as the violent criminal he is in much of the canon be completely decimated by Jason fans who only know fanon and the retconned version of Red Hood and completely deny canon even exists and refuse to even glance at the comics. Transformative works are important and playing in the sandbox is for everyone but fandom literally cannot exist without canon. Canon is important and people can do whatever they want with it but they should respect it enough to at least look at it.

Hi anon, I'm going to hold your hand as I say this, and I will say it as gently as I can: This is still a form of canon purism.

We can absolutely agree that readers shouldn't berate or abuse writers for how they choose to portray characters in fic, whether that's a more canon-faithful characterization or a popular fanon version. If readers don't like how a character is portrayed, we should encourage them to hit the back button instead.

I want to draw your attention to some of the words you used in your ask above: "should" "respect" "decimated" etc. Those are some strong words to describe how you think people need to behave, in order to exist in fandom. Of course, there is no fandom without canon source material -- I'm not denying that. But with such a wide and varied canon, the DC fandom has examples of the Red Hood you mention above, AND the "retconned" version you also reference. Both are canon, as in actually, officially, canon. WFA is canon, and that Red Hood looks very different from the Red Hood you describe.

Now, I think your issue is that you enjoy a certain version of canon, and you're frustrated that the fandom doesn't also, as trends ebb and flow, enjoy that canon as much as you do. Again, I want to acknowledge that just because a certain version is popular, it doesn't give folks the right to berate authors for writing a different version. But again, I don't think that's what we're really talking about here. From your ask's tone, I think you're suggesting that people should, in order to participate in fandom, read that older canon, that different version, or as you say, "glance at it" before enjoying or writing the fanon version.

Guess what? They actually, really, really, don't have to. It sounds like you have some issues with judging your fellow fandom members who don't read what you do or reference certain canon. But the magic of this fandom is, you can enter it at any point. We're a big pool, and if someone's entry point is the Lego Batman movie and that's it, that's still valid.

Fandom stems from canon, yes, but I almost never hear people talk about movies, or web comics, or other media when they talk about "required reading." It's always a comic. I really wish people would reflect on that before suggesting it as the one true path to being a fan.

The other thing I don't see asks like these reference ever is the reality that sometimes a fandom outstrips its canon material, and that that's an eventuality in some spaces. Fanon interpretations become popular, and people write about those specific characterizations or scenarios. They ebb and flow, like I mentioned, and some are more canon-faithful than others. Some completely reject canon, and again -- it's still fandom. It doesn't make it better or worse than a more canon-faithful fic. It's just different.

I had a couple asks about this topic a few weeks ago, and I'm assuming you haven't read those or you likely wouldn't have sent me this ask. But in them, I discuss how sometimes we need to suck it up and be unhappy that canon-faithful fics aren't as popular in a fandom at a specific time, and stop punishing fellow fans for writing and enjoying those fics. And we really need to stop shitting on them publicly on Tumblr.

Because often, what you're really saying is that you wish more people would write more canon-faithful fics, and stop writing ones about fanon topics you don't enjoy or think are accurate. And to that, I again say, there is nothing you can or should do to change that behavior from others. If you want to read it, write it, enjoy it, etc, do it yourself. Build the comic-faithful community here, write fics and promote challenges, create a discord channel and discuss your "required reading" there.

We are all writing and reading fanfiction at the end of the day. It is a great equalizer in many ways. My silly Lego Batman fic is just as valid as a canon-faithful rewrite of a certain Batman issue. One is not better than the other, or more deserving of respect. You will never get me to admit otherwise on this blog.

tl;dr: people should absolutely not berate authors who choose to write canon-faithful characterizations. however, there are layers of judgement and disdain many DC comics canon-faithful authors/readers have for their fellow fans that I think we need to examine critically in order to coexist respectfully.

[ghouldump]

Love Me | Lestat de Lioncourt x Bi!Reader

ෆ as your companionship seems to be failing, you retreat, seeking comfort from a woman who looks awfully similar.

a short fic from me to you. bi reader, as well as rockstar lestat, has been high in demand. i actually accidentally deleted a few really good ones, but there i honestly write whenever i’m bored, so more is bound to come along.

Throwing the large book, you expected it to hit him in the head, but before it could connect, the book went left, falling onto the floor.

“How long will you continue this, ma chérie, you don't menstruate, so why must you go on like this? Hm, do you want to shop, a new handbag, shoes, a new boy toy?” Lestat asked, smirking. Behind the grin, he was incredibly frustrated. The two of you had been arguing for over an hour, and he didn't even know why.

“What does that have to do with anything? You always have to ridicule, when a problem is being addressed,” you screamed, a few tears escaping. As much as you tried to hold them back, the barrier was crumbling, as you grew angrier.

“Are you serious? What is the problem? Go on”

“That boy that you bought home, he looked like him-

“It was merely a coincidence”

“And the one before that, and before that, and many more. All of them resembled him, your Louis,” you whispered, wiping your tears.

“All of them were also drained and burned”

“After you fucked them,” you said, shaking your head as he chuckled.

“50 years, I have given myself to you, and you alone, but I haven't been enough, I’m not Louis”

“Y/n-

“You revealed your identity to the entire world for him. I let you turn me at only nineteen to fill your lonely void, and you’ve never told me you loved me, do you even love me?”

“What kind of point are you trying to prove? I told you, Louis and I had a very different relationship, than what you and I-

“Right, you loved him, and I was the replacement,” you laughed, grabbing your phone and handbag.

“Where are you going?”

“Out, text me from your iPad, if you need anything,” you grumbled. He was too much of an illiterate man-child to even learn how to use a phone, depending on you and Siri.

“The sun will be out soon”

“I won't be long,” you said, making sure to slam the door.

Your emotions were all over the place, angered at the terrible decisions you'd made over the years. You were a young party girl, in the 70s, when you met Lestat. It didn't take long before he was your boyfriend, and you were bragging to your friends about the sex. After months of dating, he confided in you about a weird call from his former lover’s partner, revealing his identity afterward. Soon, he asked you to join him in darkness, and immediately you agreed.

However, looking back, you felt like an idiot, you should've stayed away when the adults told you about the strangeness of Lestat. The rumors of him not aging, only being seen at night. You couldn't see past his charming personality or handsome face, to realize he was trying to fill the void Louis left.

Walking through the French Quarter, you maneuvered through the crowd. You rolled your eyes at all of the tourists, especially since the writer, Daniel Molloy came out with his book, people were flocking to the city.

Going into a random bar, you sat down, your eyes scanning the menu. Alcohol didn't have much of an effect on you, only making you slightly tipsy, but it was something that made you feel human.

“I bought your drink, the least you could do is give me your number,” you heard the man next to you say rudely.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.

“A pineapple martini,” you said, handing him your card.

“I didn't ask you to,” the girl argued.

“Listen, I didn't spend $20 on an overpriced daiquiri just because you're cute-

“And I told you, I didn't ask you to buy it,” she argued.

“Can you two take that elsewhere, I don't want to hear all of that, while I enjoy my drink,” you said, tapping the man’s shoulder.

“No one cares, and keep your hands off-

The man stood from his seat, lunging forward to grab you next, when you caught his arm, twisting it. You watched the man in satisfaction, thinking of how men hadn't changed, even in the 60s, 70s, 80s, and so on — there were always the disgustingly perverted men.

“You don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, it’s gross, but it makes me feel less guilty for breaking your arm,” you said, shrugging before twisting his arm. He screamed in agony, holding his arm as he ran out of the bar, just as your martini was sat down, along with your card.

“Hey, thank you for that,” the woman started, as you sat down. By her accent alone, you knew she was a tourist.

“It was nothing,” you mumbled, twirling the little straw, focused on the drink.

“How did you do that? Do you take self defense classes?” she asked.

“No”

“Well, that was pretty impressive, I don't think I’ve ever seen-

“Lady, I just want to enjoy my drink-

Your eyes widened at the woman, she was perfect, she looked like Lestat, if he had been gender-swapped. Her blonde tresses were inches away from her waist, sky blue eyes, and full pink lips. Her bone structure was symmetrical, her straight teeth as white as milk. She dressed hyper feminine, wearing too much pink and white. You tried not to be weird, forcing your eyes to stop wandering, despite catching a glimpse of her toned body.

“I’m sorry, I know I can talk too much sometimes, sorry,” she apologized.

“You’re fine, I’m just in a shitty mood,” you shrugged.

“What’s wrong?”

“My partner is caught up on his ex, even though they broke up forever ago,” you admitted.

“Why do you hold on to him then?”

“Everything else is perfect about him, I can’t help but want to be loved by him,” you mumbled, thinking of Lestat. Since he revealed himself, he had been very busy, but when he wasn’t, his attention was on you. Waiting for him backstage, in the hotels, in his coffin, the quality time was incredibly intimate.

“If he’s as perfect as you claim, why are you here, obviously upset?” she asked, scooting closer.

“I don’t think I will ever come close to being loved as much as Louis,” you admitted, gulping down the pressure of the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching to touch your hand.

“I will be fine, are you new to New Orleans?” You asked, staring at her hand laid against your own.

“Yes, I’m Lisa by the way, but I want to move here, I’ll be out here for a few weeks, maybe we can hang out, you could be my personal tour guide,” she said, briefly biting her lip. In her thoughts, she was hopeful, wanting more than to spend time with you. You seemed mysterious and she was dying to know why.

“Y/n, What did you want to do?”

“See historical landmarks, try local cuisines, hang out with you,” she said, leaning towards you.

“Me?”

“A woman as beautiful as you deserves all of the attention”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you smirked, remaining still as she leaned closer, allowing her to press her lips against your own.

As you moved closer, your phone dinged, making you reach into your pocket. Pulling away, you rolled your eyes as you stared at the coffin emoji, paired with a question mark.

“I have to go,” you told her, going to stand.

“Could I have your number, we could hang out sometime, if you're free,” she said, fidgeting. Smirking, you couldn't help but think of how much she looked like him, yet acted completely different.

Laughing, you unlocked your phone, handing it to her. After her number was saved, you were making your way to the townhouse. The sun could be seen coming into view, and just as you began opening the door, you could feel the heat burning against your skin.

“I thought you wouldn't be long,” Lestat said from the top of the stairs, as the door was shut.

“I wasn't”

“You left nearly two hours ago,” he said, following behind you, as you walked past him, up the stairs.

“And I’m home, did you want to argue more?” you asked him, rudely. He was stunned by your tone, but recovered quickly.

“No, I wanted you to return to me, in perfect condition,” he said, watching as you stripped from the clothing, holding your phone near.

“I’m okay, it will heal,” you told him, feeling his eyes on your lightly burned shoulder. You didn't say anything else, climbing into your coffin, and he couldn't admit your already different behavior left him feeling embarrassed.

Just as your eyes were about to shut, your phone lit up, as Lisa’s message appeared on the screen, asking if you made it home safely. Lestat stared at your coffin, hearing the sound of you typing, before slowly moving to his own.

“Sleep well, ma chérie”

“You too,” you said, hearing the sound of his coffin closing.

Lestat was confused by the way you were acting. This wasn't the first and most likely wouldn't be the last time you'd get into an argument, but this time seemed different. You'd leave and eventually come home, and he'd pick a fight, and just as you started to argue back, he would apologize for his actions and everything would fall into place.

Now, just two hours later you acted completely standoffish with him, as if you didn't want to be bothered. Was the argument that serious to you? You understood the love he held for Louis, but that it was best that they remained friends alone. He was with you, he had been all these years, he cared for you, he lo-.

Lestat didn't know how to express himself, arguing, being jealous, possessive, then ravishing you with gifts, that's all he knew. What he didn't realize was his failure to comfort and reassure you, not taking you seriously, you were pulling you away, as you began to desire your needs elsewhere.

Immediately, Lestat could see the red flags going off, you were gone every night. Some nights before he even woke up, others you'd silently dress in front of him, before leaving. Even when he left for his music business, you always traveled with him, but now you had excuses.

He didn't want to follow you, but he had to, the jealous assumptions were beginning to pile up in his thoughts. Months, it had been months of you ignoring his presence. You’d look at him, hunt with him, and even talk with him if he wanted — but you weren’t putting your all into the relationship anymore. He was making the same mistake as he did with Louis. Choosing when the relationship could and couldn’t open.

He’d dabble in his different tastes regularly, no strings attached, usually killing the person after. You were different, the only way you’d have another person, was if Lestat was present. You weren’t as open to the idea of having others, and in a way, it satisfied Lestat knowing you would never sleep with another, or so he thought.

He had been following you, all the way to Gentilly, until you stopped at the unfamiliar house. His heart could have shattered, as he watched you through the window. The woman, you touched, touched in a way that was only meant for him.

He watched as you and this is unknown woman made love, his heart throbbing. The two of you, going on for what felt like hours, before you were both giggling, going into the bathroom. As the woman came out, grabbing a towel, Lestat was sure his dead heart would stop. This woman, she looked exactly like him, he couldn’t even say he looked better, because they resembled each other so much.

After your shared shower, you both plopped on the bed, holding each other. Your hearts full of passion towards each other.

“Y/n,” Lisa said, playing with your sharp nails.

“Hm?” You answered, your eyes closed. Her warm skin felt nice against your forever icy skin.

“I think I love you,” she said, making you open your eyes.

“What?” You asked, looking at her.

“I love you, I know it’s only been a few months, but that’s all I needed with you to know,” she said. You could feel the tears building up, as you pressed your lips against her own.

Staring at her, you could only see Lestat, the one who stole your heart all those years ago. No matter how idiotic you’re decision was, at the time. All you wanted was for him to declare his love for you, with his mouth.

“Say it again, please?” You asked her, as you pulled away.

“I love you,” she smiled brightly, smashing her lips into yours, as she pulled you back into a hug.

Lestat had tears pouring down his face, as he turned to leave. He didn’t think he could watch any more of whatever that was supposed to be. He couldn't take the idea of you being loving or being loved by another. All this started because of love, you claiming he didn't love you.

“Lisa, tell me you love me, once more,” you said, as you began to glamour her.

“I love you,” she exclaimed.

“No, you don't, you never met me, you won't recognize my face and you will never approach me, do you understand?” you asked her, watching as she silently nodded, you wiped the bloody tear from your eye, just as it escaped,

“Yes”

“You will sleep now, you're very tired,” you said, watching as she nodded, dozing off. She lay beautifully, as you covered her with the blanket. You couldn't replace him, even with the female doppelganger — especially with her. Lisa was a sweet girl, you didn't want to take away her life, revealing your nature, for your selfish reasons.

Leaving her home, you silently went back to your shared townhouse. It was quiet, Lestat already in his coffin, as you undressed.

“Good night,” you mumbled, getting into your coffin.

If this would be life, then you accepted it, second to Louis. You loved Lestat with every piece of your soul, so much that you could take not being loved, but being liked enough to be in his presence.

As the sun eventually left, you got up, dressing to go hunt. You found a random man, draining him in an alley, but as you made your way back home, your eyebrows furrowed. Entering the house, your eyes widened at the sight.

Exotic dancers, well over ten of them, all with wavy blonde hair and shades of blue eyes. A few of them were fawning at Lestat, but he paid none of them any kind of attention.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“For you, ma chérie, I’ll drain them, but I’ll let do whatever you please with them first,” he grinned.

“What are you talking about? Get them out, now,” you said, shrugging off a hand that was about to rub your shoulder. Watching as Lestat controlled them, sending them away, before he sat down, drained from the action.

“What is wrong with you? Bringing all of those women here? God, why don't you think,” you grumbled.

“I was just trying to appease your passions since they were more of your type, I mean, it only took a few months for you to find out,” he shrugged, making you realize he had been there.

“You can't be serious, you're such a creeper,” you laughed bitterly.

“For months, I’ve reached out to you, and you recoiled at my touch, just for me to find out you're having an affair with a woman, who looks too much like me”

“And how is that any different than what you've done?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I heard you both, making love to her, kissing her, touching her the way that you do me. Texting her throughout the day, you're in love with her,” Lestat cried.

“I’m in love with you, but you love Louis. I can't replace him, so I wanted to replace you,” you said, turning to storm away, when he caught your hand.

“I will always love Louis but don't think that I don't love you. You are my wife, my companion, the one who saved me from myself. I don't want to see you with another, only me,” he confessed. His face was covered in blood from the tears pouring down his face.

“And you have me, but you have to say it, I know you show it in your own ways, but to hear it from your lips, would help me so much,” you told him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. I know, I am a hypocrite, but end your affair, I can't take knowing you love another, I love you” he pouted.

“Fine, you won't have to worry about her,” you told him, as he moved closer to embrace you. Swiftly, he lifted you, holding you in his arms.

“Are we made up now?”

“Yes, love”

“I don't know how much I could take of that excruciating cycle of neglect,” he expressed.

“Lestat?” you said, as he sat down, having you straddle his lap.

“Yes, chérie?”

“Tell me again, tell me you love me,” you said, sighing in fulfillment as his arms wrapped around your body.

“I love you and I’ll say it as many times as you need”

…

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (10/10)

The Realization

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: prom is coming and so is the end of a stage in your life. surprises and unexpected conversations take place, the question is, are you able to forgive in order to move on?

word count: 9.7k

previous part • series masterlist

this is not a drill, it's really happening!

first of all, i want to apologize for having left this story aside without finishing it. it wasn't something i decided, the writer's block precisely in this fic made me not try anymore for a while, mostly to clear my mind and my ideas, because i had no idea what to write after chapter nine 💀

so I hope you really forgive me and enjoy the last chapter 🥺 it has been an honor to have given you this little fic, I really enjoyed writing it despite the little mental breakdowns I had haha

and just like my other stories, I keep it in my heart and it will always be here for whenever you want to reread (I will make sure to post it in AO3, don't worry) i'm also thinking of doing a poll about the epilogue where you guys will decide if you want one or prefer this ending. let me know after you finish reading the chapter 🤗

enjoy and I look forward to your comments!

It still all feels like a bad dream that you can't wake up from. An unwanted dream. A nightmare.

And every time a new day comes, you feel like a human being who does everything in automatic mode, not because you really want to.

In front of your dad you must pretend that everything is fine, but as soon as you leave home and get to school, you feel a huge weight and a sadness that nothing and no one can take away from you.

You feel the stares of some people on you, if not all of them. But the truth is that you feel so emotionally drained that you don't even pay attention to them.

Many would say that not being accepted to a college doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Nor does it mean that your chances are over because there is still too much time to be able to do everything you want.

And you accept that they are right. All is not lost because you didn't get accepted.

When you were rejected the first time when you applied in conjunction with the scholarship, disillusionment sets in. There is disappointment in yourself for not being enough and there is this question that constantly floats in your mind; why others do and I don't? Why am I not worthy of the same fate as them?

Maybe it's age, but it's inevitable to feel that rejection and failure after having so many plans and having in mind the idea of making your dad proud by telling him that you've been accepted to college.

And not just any college, but Citadel.

But so far, you haven't had the courage to tell him instead that you won't go to any college. You just can't. You don't know what exactly you'll tell him and you don't want to face it yet. You don't want to see his disappointed face so you need more time.

So instead of dreams and aspirations, as well as preparing to live a college life, you prepare and focus on getting a job. You don't see employment as a bad thing either. You just wish you didn't have to focus on it right now.

You haven't talked to Aemond either. You haven't even seen him.

You're in some classes together. But you barely pay attention. Even though you used to notice his presence before and now, unconsciously, you ignore it. Now your mind is too busy with your worries.

It's like being in a disconnect. You are just there, existing. But you barely talk, barely react and barely do. You just want classes to end soon so you can go home.

Of course, he hasn't stopped trying.

He wants to talk to you, but you won't let him. You just don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Even though you feel that emptiness he has left, you immediately force yourself not to think about it.

It's like pain and confusion mixed together, but your pride and that same pain makes you prefer to stay away.

You don't even care anymore what people say about him and you. It's obvious that the two of you are no longer in a 'relationship'. No one knows what happened and neither one of you is clarifying anything.

Which you are grateful for, so as not to feed the topic in the whole school.

Meanwhile, Alysanne and Cregan are almost always around you, trying to cheer you up and make you endure school better. You couldn't be more grateful for both of them either.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?"

Alysanne asks as the three of you are sitting on a bench in the outside courtyard. On the bench where you and Aemond made the fake relationship contract, precisely. But you try not to focus on that as the three of you eat lunch.

"We're going to the movies, did you forget already?" asks Cregan, confused.

"Huh? This weekend?"

"You forgot," he assures her.

"I didn't forget!" she lies, nervous.

"We agreed to go on Saturday. To the ten o'clock function for the horror movie."

Oh yes, the two of them are dating. Just as you and Aemond have 'broken up', so you try not to feel more distressed about it.

"Do you want to come, Y/N?"

You raise your gaze to Alysanne, confused, who gives you a smile.

"It's a date, isn't it? Just the two of you."

"We'll have more dates," she makes a nonchalant gesture.

Poor Cregan.

"Besides, it would do you good to clear your head a bit. So, what better than going to the movies? Right, Cregan?"

"Yeah, it'll do you good," he nods.

"No, thank you," you say softly, "I don't want to interfere with your dates. Besides, I'm not in the mood to go out. I'd rather stay home."

"You're not going to interfere with anything. Besides, you've stayed home enough days," she reproaches you, "Come on. Even one night. We'll have a great time."

"If you don't want to go to the movies, we can go somewhere else," Cregan proposes.

You grimace slightly.

"No, thank you. I..." you sigh, "I really appreciate it, guys. But I'd rather stay home."

Staying home to look for a proper job and plan to tell your dad you won't be going to college, like you've been doing for the past few days.

"Are you sure?" Alysanne looks at you not entirely convinced.

"Yeah," you shrug, "Don't worry about me."

"Of course I worry about you."

"You should focus on your date," you say as you give Cregan a meaningful look.

"Totally," Cregan nods, "In fact, she'll plan the next date."

"What?" she looks at him in horror.

"What you heard."

"And why me?"

"Because I always do."

Your talk with them doesn't last long as soon the bell rings and they head off to their respective classes, except for you, who has a free hour.

So you stand on the bench alone, just looking outside and nothing else, enjoying your lunch unhurriedly and in peace and quiet.

You let out a long breath and distract yourself for a few moments in your social networks, watching as some people post their reactions from when they were accepted to colleges. Everyone screams, smiles and cries of happiness with their families.

Except for others who quietly show how they were not accepted. But they open more emails and get accepted to other colleges.

You wish you were part of them.

You close those apps and go to Tiktok to distract yourself for a while by watching funny videos or storytimes.

When suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching behind you, which catches your attention. You turn your head, peeking over your shoulder and then you see him, Aemond.

He stops as soon as your eyes look directly into his, as if you've caught him in the act of robbery. Which reveals how very cautious he was being to approach and not scare you.

You see the uncertainty in his gaze, the insecurity and the wariness all at the same time. Which is rare for him, as he doesn't allow himself to look so vulnerable. But you understand why he's this way with you.

First you think about getting up and leaving him with the word in his mouth, like you've been doing lately. But for some reason, it's like finally your mind resigns and your body will force you to stay where you're sitting. And you don't even know why.

Or maybe it's because he's begging you with his gaze not to leave and listen to what he has to say after so many weeks.

Inevitably your nerves invade you and neither he nor you say anything for a few long seconds. He just stands still, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you will move away from him again attentively.

Then he swallows hard and watches you with a sad but hopeful expression.

“Can I come closer?”

You press your lips together, think about it for a few seconds and finally give him a barely visible nod.

You turn your gaze to the front and begin to put your tupper with food in your backpack. While at the same time Aemond approaches you, cautious but firm. And surprised that you are allowing him to do this.

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your hair, nervous, not knowing why.

Then he steps in front of you and only at that moment, you realize he has a folder in his hand. A folder that he sets down on the table in front of you, with smooth, cautious movements.

“I just came to drop this off for you. Nothing else.”

You raise your gaze to look at it confused for a moment, then look back down at the folder in front of you.

“It's the paperwork you need to submit to finalize the scholarship process,” he says softly, “Classes start in two months and by now you should have received an email from the university with all the information as an incoming student.”

Wait, what?

Your mind immediately questions, as you frown more and feel your heart start to beat too fast.

“What are you talking about?” you ask in a low murmur, not understanding.

And Aemond lets out a long breath.

“I'm keeping my promise.”

His words echo steadily in your mind.

And you dare to raise your gaze to him again, confused, serious and incredulous. And what he does is lower his gaze, sorrowful and unsure. However… he is firm with what he is saying.

Then a tingle begins to run through your hands, at the same time as you feel the nervousness sweep through your body like a wave. You part your lips as you look at the folder in front of you and with trembling hands, you pick it up and open it.

The first thing you see is the university logo and an overwhelming sensation sweeps over your body and mind as you see what appears to be a letter addressed to you.

Miss. Y/N Y/L/N, Faculty of Law. Official documentation for the scholarship process.

You feel the air you were holding in your lungs slowly leave your mouth. And a huge weight that you felt in your chest is lifted, allowing you to rest and breathe properly.

At first, you think your mind is playing a joke on you. You think he's doing it. But… this is real. More real than you can imagine.

“I know I didn't do things the right way…

Aemond begins to speak, noticing the mix of shock and confusion in your gaze, breathing hard through your mouth.

“I know I took you for granted and that I hurt you,” he says softly, “But that was never my intention, Y/N. I-I… I thought I would get everything under control. That I would work it out and get everything done on time. But, it's just… I don't even have justification.”

You feel tears begin to form in your eyes. But you control yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to let his words make you break down in tears.

As if the fact that you have in front of you one of the papers confirming and assuring you that you will finally go to the college of your dreams isn't enough.

“I should have acted sooner and looked for solutions. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. And you don't know how sorry I am,” he says softly and vulnerably, his gaze lowered, ”I also don't expect you to forgive me for keeping a promise and asking for forgiveness. I know I fucked up and things can never go back to the way they were. But I just want you to know…” he takes a moment, "That I really did fall in love with you."

Fuck.

“What I felt for you was real. It was never a game or a pretense. I was just… afraid,” he admits, ”Afraid of fucking up what we had. Afraid it would all fall apart if I told you the truth. But… I ruined everything,” he says with a resigned tone, ”You don't have to talk to me again either if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you the truth and let you know how sorry I am.”

Each word echoes in your mind, with the weight of his regret and his sincerity. You feel the tremble in your body, not helping the fact that you are still staring at the college sheet addressed to your name.

And you hold back, trying to calm the chaos being unleashed inside you by his words.

When he doesn't say anything else, you certainly won't and you both fall silent for a moment, as the weight of his words and the meaning of them fill the space. Until he speaks again.

“I won't bother you anymore,” he moves forward a bit back to the way he came, “Best of luck at Citadel. You deserve it, you really do,” he tells you with a small smile that is sad but genuine at the same time.

Then his figure disappears from your field of vision and you hear him start to walk away. And at that moment, the world seems to stop for you.

Unable to help yourself, you turn your head and watch him walk away with tears in your eyes. There is something in his walk, in that slight slope of his shoulders, that screams the burden he carries. And you don't know why, but… you want to call him, to tell him something that will ease the knot you both feel.

However, you know that won't fix anything.

You feel the air leave you, his words still echoing in your mind. You stare at the folder again, trying to remember what this achievement meant to you before this moment, before he came and stirred all the emotions in you.

You try to be strong, you try not to let this affect you more than it should, you think of the positive. But you can't.

So still in disbelief, excitement, sadness and with all your emotions mixed up, you take your phone, unlock it and open your emails app. And there, your most recent email, you read: Citadel University.

With your hands shaking, you press the email and read in slightly larger letters: Welcome to Citadel University! Miss Y/N, Y/L/N. Faculty of Law, Registration number: 31982.

Then, finally, you can't hold back the tears any longer and you put a hand to your mouth, letting them out, with confused and intense feelings coming over you.

Your father's loving and proud words, hugs and kisses make you smile.

It took you four days to finally break the news to him. And seeing him so happy, excited and proud, made you finally stop feeling so bad for even a moment. You also broke the news to Alysanne and Cregan, who were very happy for you.

Neither of them mentioned Aemond, which you appreciated. But there is the clear acknowledgement to him for making this possible.

You obviously left the job search behind and instead started contacting the university. You sent the missing and necessary documents, they sent you information about the scholarship, your schedule, classes and also about your dorm.

It's like finally this void in your chest is being filled as you finally see this all happening. And as you look at the pictures of the university, with old, elegant and modern architecture at the same time, that excitement rises in you.

However, what you feel is not happiness in its entirety.

In fact, you feel in the middle of a crossroads; joy is mixed with sadness. And the satisfaction of fulfilling the dream feels incomplete.

The worst part is that you know why.

But you don't think about it too much either. You don't want to. On the contrary, you force yourself to repeat over and over again that this was the plan all along. You force yourself to enjoy it and get excited.

You force yourself to think that what happened outside of getting into the college of your dreams was for a reason, but in the end you got what you really wanted.

But, deep down inside, you think about how you wish things could have been different.

At the same time, prom is just around the corner.

At first, you thought about not attending, but of course, Alysanne wouldn't let you think about it anymore. She dragged you with her to the dress store and sentenced that it will be a date of three, her, Cregan and you.

You tried to persuade her, to make her understand that Cregan only wants her as his date. But, of course, Cregan as the great friend he also is, told you it would be fun.

Certainly neither he nor you nor Alysanne have ever been on a three-way date and he told you; what better than to try it at the prom?

The prom preparations are done. Now the important thing is to turn in final projects and get rid of all the pending with the professors.

And that's what you're doing now.

With your headphones on and a notebook along with a book on your table, you're about to finish a long, boring project. When you notice how a figure suddenly obscures your workspace and you raise your gaze almost instantly, curious.

Helaena.

You remove your headphones, surprised to see her as she smiles softly at you.

“Hi,” you say to her in a soft tone, putting your project aside for a moment.

“Hi,” she says to you in the same soft tone, ”I… am I interrupting you?”

“Oh no,” you say nonchalantly, “I mean, yes, but I'm just about to finish it anyway. Don't worry.”

She looks at you a little unsure.

“Are you sure? It's just… I don't know,“ she shrugs, 'It's been a while since we last talked and I didn't know if I could come up to you.”

Again you ignore the small sharp pain in your chest at the memory of Aemond and try to look like you're not at all affected by having his sister in front of you.

“Yeah, well…” you try to smile a little, ”Things have been… intense lately.”

She nods as she takes a seat across from you.

“So it's official?” she asks you with a sad tone as she watches you with a sad little smile, “Like, I mean… you and my brother aren't coming back together?”

This time, the sharp pain in your chest is stronger and more persistent. As well as her question hits you like a wave.

How can you tell her that, in reality, everything you and Aemond had was false? That it was all part of an agreement?

The guilt begins to consume you as you see her face full of expectations and the worst thing is that it's not something you should tell her. That should be Aemond. But, still, you feel the urge to cry and you feel the need to finally tell her the truth, for the sake of everyone who made you believe the fake relationship.

“Helaena…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, ”I-I… need to be honest with you.”

You take a breath, expecting the worst and imagining a series of difficult emotions to deal with.

“This whole thing between Aemond and I… it was fake,” you speak fearfully and sorrowfully, ”We were just… pretending for our own convenience. It wasn't…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment heavily, ”It wasn't real.”

You expected surprise, indignation, incredulity, anger, and more, all at the same time. But to your greatest surprise and bewilderment, she doesn't seem remotely surprised. Instead, she just smiles softly at you, full of understanding, as if she's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I already knew that,” she tells you in a serene tone that disarms you.

You feel your lungs hold all your air and you watch her completely stunned, surprised and confused with your parted lips. Then you blink, processing her words.

“What?”

“Aemond told me everything the moment you set up your rules,” she replies calmly, “The truth is, he never hides anything from me. He can't. So I already knew what you both were doing from the beginning.”

You continue to watch her in shock and disbelief, unable to believe it, trying to understand how she could have kept this to herself so naturally.

And in that moment, with disbelief and surprise beating in your chest, you realize that in every single conversation you had with her, right here at school, at parties, even at that family dinner that ended in disaster thanks to Aegon's drunkenness… she had always known.

“Though I don't always approve of his decisions, I understood why he did it… and why you did too.”

But your mind is still short-circuiting, processing and comprehending.

You relive in your mind every moment you went out of your way to pretend, believing you were fooling everyone, especially her. And yet, there's Helaena, looking at you with an expression of calm and empathy that completely disarms you.

“So you knew?” you are able to formulate in asking in a breathy whisper.

She nods, smiling softly.

“Easy, only I knew.“

“And you're not upset?” you ask confused, still waiting for some sign of reproach.

“Not at all. On the contrary, I'm relieved,” she tells you honestly, ”People made fun of Aemond after Alys. And, well, that left a mark on him. You know what rumors are like here.”

“Oh, believe me I do.”

“And they made him miserable. It also didn't help at all that Alys was his first girlfriend and his first formal relationship but the two of them didn't love each other, it was just obsession and whim,” she says absurdly, "And with you, at least, he got some peace back, even if it was temporary."

“But then…” you look at her blankly, “Why did you ask me if we'll get back together?”

Helaena sighs, her gaze soft but intense.

“Because in the end the two of you really fell in love. I saw you at Dragonstone and it was… too obvious.”

You remain silent, remembering those moments.

Both of you walking through those historical corridors, seeing and learning absolutely everything about old Valyria. Both holding hands, fascinated in the aquarium watching everything around or walking together on the shore of the beach, laughing, exchanging glances, hugging and kissing every now and then that everything felt too sincere to be pretending.

You relived every moment and every detail that you wished you could go back to when everything was fine.

Aemond had been different with you those days, a side of him that you had never seen and had thought only existed because of his performance in the fake relationship you had both agreed to.

But even you, being there, without the pressure to pretend, you felt the barriers fall between the two of you, because it was all real.

“He fell in love with you, Y/N,” Helaena tells you sincerely, “You… you did too?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you let the question float in the air for a moment. The answer is so clear in your mind that it hurts; and yet, saying it out loud feels like breaking a promise you had made to protect yourself.

“Yes, I did too,” you admit, sadness settling in your chest, "But…" you take a deep breath, watching her, ”What happened with Floris even though it was a mistake… and then, the fact that he didn't tell me the truth about Citadel, it really hurt me.”

Helaena nods softly, not judging you, simply listening to you. And when she speaks, her tone is so serene and understanding that it comforts you.

“My brother has this amazing ability to do things in the worst possible way,” she says with a small resigned smile, ”Floris was a mistake. He was drunk and well, he told me that before that both of you have had a disagreement, although that doesn't justify it, I know. I'm just saying, it really was a mistake.”

Your mind momentarily flashes back to that moment, when you tried to end the fake relationship after the family dinner thing.

“And as for the Citadel thing…” she pauses, searching for the right words, “He freaked out, Y/N. He didn't know how to tell you without ruining everything. And I know that doesn't justify it either, but…” she sighs, ”He was going to do whatever it took to hold up his part of the contract. He just didn't count on our grandfather suddenly getting difficult. Our family is already so fucked up as it is, that was the last thing he expected.”

Her words suddenly make you feel interested and curious about a specific topic you hadn't remembered until now. But Helaena continues to speak and you listen to her.

“Even though his method was disastrous, in his mind, he was protecting you,” she says, ”Again, I'm not justifying it. But I know he was desperate to get you that place at Citadel no matter what because he knew you deserved it. And…” she smiles at you with a gesture of resignation, "I think he loves you enough to do stupidly risky things. Even go against grandfather and act behind his back knowing how much trouble he could get into.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and feel a knot of emotions form in your chest. Everything she's telling you opens a door to feelings you'd tried to repress, to thoughts you'd rather bury.

You take a deep breath, remembering again those days at Dragonstone.

You relive every moment, when words were redundant and the silence between the two of you felt so full of meaning. He was always watching you in a way that seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. He was slowly revealing that vulnerable part of himself that he seemed to have lost after Alys.

But as much as you want to think straight, your thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the pain of it all consumes you but on the other, there's the certainty of how you feel about him.

Even when you're hurting, you know you can't ignore it.

“I know he's still waiting, deep down, for maybe…” Helaena pauses, “Maybe there's a chance for both of you.”

The expression on her face is so sincere and tender that you find it impossible not to believe her, and the thought fills you with a mixture of relief and pain. Because, despite everything, you still love him, and that truth is impossible to deny.

“I don't know,” you confess, biting your lips and feeling your eyes water, ”I-I…I don't know what to do. I mean, we're already graduating. We'll go to the same college but I doubt we'll see each other, you know? And I just… n-no… I don't know….

“Hey, hey,” Helaena tells you instantly, ”It's okay. We don't have to talk about this anymore. I didn't want to overwhelm you or burden you, I just wanted to tell you my opinion and for you to talk to someone in case you needed to,” she tells you softly, comfortingly, ”Still, it's something between the two of you and we can talk about anything else.”

You thank her with a relieved look, her gesture of empathy appearing as she watches you with her soft, understanding expression. And then, she speaks with a more casual tone, changing the subject with a lightness that relieves you a bit.

“You have everything ready for graduation? Are you bringing a date?”

“Hum… yes, I already have everything ready,” you nod, ”And no, I'll go with my two friends. I think you met them, Alysanne and Cregan.”

“Oh yes! I know them,” she says with a smile, ”And I'm going with a friend too. I don't really like the idea of everything being so formal, so going with a friend will make it all more fun.”

Both are silent for a few moments, and although the conversation has taken on a lighter tone, you feel there's still a question trapped in your chest. And at the memory of that day, an impulse prompts you to speak before you can stop yourself.

“Helaena,” you call her softly, "I… can I ask you something?" you ask almost in a whisper, lowering your gaze a little, hesitating.

She watches you curiously and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hum…” you stir in your seat, “That night, at dinner, Aegon said something… about your dad not caring about you. What did he mean by that?”

She immediately looks like she wasn't expecting that question at all, which immediately makes you regret it, but then she softens her whole gaze, not looking at all uncomfortable or upset.

“Oh, well… our dad…” she begins to speak, choosing her words precisely, “Well, he was always very neglectful with us. He always left all the work to mom to take care of us, even when she had to work too so she wasn't totally dependent on him,” she explains, ”It was chaos for a long time. Aegon and I lost years of education because of his lack of commitment.”

“Really?” you look at her attentively and surprised.

“He missed the date to register us for kindergarten in our proper time. He always forgot our birthdays or some important date. But, of course, that never happened to him with our older stepsister, Rhaenyra.”

You remember Aemond mentioning her, though not much.

“And you don't talk to her?”

“Yes, of course,” she says with a small smile, “She was never at blame. In fact, by comparison, she always took us into account and never forgot our existence,” she explains, ”And well, eventually mom divorced him. And the only good thing dad did in the end was to mention us and give us parts of his inheritance in his will.”

Helaena's sincerity and calmness in sharing this about her life surprises you and, at the same time, makes you understand the complicated family history behind them. Now it's no wonder why Aegon was so angry to bring up the subject of parents.

Nor do you ignore the connection you begin to feel towards them, obviously because of your mother and her abandonment.

“It must have been very difficult, for everyone,” you murmur, ”I'm sorry to hear that.”

She nods, though her expression doesn't reflect bitterness, but something akin to mature acceptance.

“Yes, but that made us strong,” she says with a slight smile, "Aegon was the one who resented his absence the most, as you could see," she tells you knowingly, ”You know, being the eldest and all. But we're more… happy now, now that he's gone,” she confesses.

You let out a long breath, watching her with compassion.

“Thank you for telling me. I didn't mean to intrude, really.”

“No, it's fine, it really doesn't affect me,” she assures you softly, ”After that Aegon scene at dinner, it's valid you know. So don't worry.”

You both smile softly at each other, expressions warm and sincere, falling silent. When Helaena stands up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Well…” she says, letting out a slight sigh, adjusting her backpack, ”I should be going now. I also have projects to finish.”

“Sure,” you nod, ”Thanks for coming and talking to me.”

“Oh, there's nothing to thank you for. Anytime. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both say goodbye and you watch her walk away in the direction of the main building, her silver hair shining in the sunlight, as you let out a long breath and put your headphones back in.

Prom.

You really don't understand what you're doing here. But it's all Alysanne's doing, like the makeup, hairstyle and dress.

You get out of Cregan's car with a beautiful lilac metallic dress on. Finding it wasn't hard at all, since it was like love at first sight, especially since it has a princess cut. And upon measuring it, Alysanne also decided that it was the one.

The hairstyle was also easy, after all, you didn't want anything too voluminous or too fancy. So a wavy style in your hair with a crown of silver flowers at the crown of your head was the perfect touch.

Alysanne on the other hand chose a beautiful wine colored dress that flatters her at every angle, deciding to gather her hair with two strands falling on either side of her face, making her look absolutely elegant and gorgeous.

And once all three of you are ready, Cregan dressed in an impeccable dark suit, offers you both his arms and you enter the grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel together.

The ballroom is illuminated by the typical disco balls hanging from the high ceiling, casting silver and white sparkles that create an almost magical atmosphere.

The decor is elegant and subtle, with centerpieces of fresh flowers and candles giving each table a touch of romantic charm.

You feel a mixture of nerves and excitement as you enter, as if it's all part of a dream. After all, it is your prom and tonight symbolizes a chapter you are about to close, your high school years.

The dance floor is in the center, surrounded by tables in a circle and already some of the guests have started to dance, getting lost in the rhythm of the soft music that fills the atmosphere thanks to the DJ.

Although not only disco balls light up the place, but also some colored lights to make the atmosphere more colorful.

If someone had told you in your freshman year everything that was going to happen in your final year, you would have laughed out loud and wouldn't have believed it at all, because your life was too boring.

But here you are, with still those events in mind, where at the end of the night, you will put them behind you.

You adjust your lilac dress, whose princess-cut skirt falls in soft layers to the floor. The fabric moves with you, as if it were an extension of your own footsteps, and the color shimmers delicately under the silver lights.

The three of you make your way to one of the tables to take a seat and you take a closer look around you as the decorations and you also see familiar faces of some of your classmates, some laughing in groups and others on the dance floor with their dates.

And Alysanne, excited and obsessed with everything, wants to have memories of the whole night and soon the three of you are taking a long selfie session with her phone.

Cregan complains about too many photos and the laughter of the three fills the air as Alysanne continues to make sure she captures the best shots, changing angles and poses.

Alysanne, with a huge smile, spins around on herself and then grabs your hands to dance with her, laughing every time you both take a step out of rhythm. You can feel her pure happiness, an excitement that doesn't take long to become contagious and where Cregan soon joins in.

The dance floor is filling up and the sparkles of the lights reflecting off everyone's costumes and dresses create an enchanting and magical atmosphere.

The DJ starts mixing more upbeat songs, and you see how everyone is having fun, laughing and dancing.

Immediately this catches Alysanne's attention and she drags the three of you onto the dance floor with infectious laughter. Before you know it, you're in the middle of the dance floor with them, surrounded by movement and music.

The music beats on the floor and vibrates in your chest, and, slowly, you begin to let loose, moving to the beat of the songs as the colored lights swirl above you all.

“I'm going to get a drink!” you let them both know over the music.

You have no idea exactly how much time passes that you find yourself dancing, enjoying the night, the echo of laughter and the warmth of the crowd.

The euphoria makes you forget and enjoy yourself as you feel your throat dry and your feet start to ache, with your body starting to beg for water and a little break.

“Okay!” Cregan nods, throwing you a smile, still dancing with Alysanne.

You smile knowingly, since after all, these two deserve to have their moment, and you walk away towards the table where there are different desserts and the drinks for all the graduates.

You take a bottle of water, and as you drink, the immediate relief makes you close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the coolness.

And only at that moment, standing alone and a little apart, you notice the glances of some people around you, mainly girls passing by you and whispering something between them, looking at you out of the corner of their eyes.

Great.

You thought you were past all this but even at prom it doesn't stop.

You take a deep breath and look out onto the dance floor, where you make out Alysanne and Cregan dancing close together, smiling and animated. You certainly don't want to interrupt them and you look around again, trying to distract yourself with anything you can find to rest your feet on.

You try not to make a big deal of it and look back at them for just a few moments with a serious look on your face and again try to focus on regaining your energy, telling yourself that this shouldn't affect you.

You remind yourself that you are here for you and your friends, and that is all that should matter to you.

When your gaze unconsciously focuses on Floris.

With her arm intertwined with a boy, whom you recognize from the lacrosse team, she looks absolutely elegant with a beautiful hairstyle and a gorgeous pink dress.

And as she joins the party, she seems totally focused on enjoying the evening, her expression relaxed and happy.

You look away from her, focused on something else, where your attention slips unintentionally to Alys, surrounded by her friends.

In the distance, suddenly her gaze meets yours and you quickly look away, not knowing why but… you really don't want to deal with or care about those people anymore.

She's wearing dark makeup and a sensual emerald green dress that completely clings to her body and highlights her curves. She looks completely beautiful, but knowing her attitude and behavior, it makes her lose her charm.

You watch Helaena for a few more seconds, her energy lighting up the dance floor, when suddenly, a tall, familiar figure catches your attention on the other side of the room in the crowd.

Instead, you focus on Helaena, who you find among all the people dancing, getting carried away by the atmosphere and in the company of the friend who told you.

Her silver hair is swaying to the music and she shines in the middle of everyone in that beautiful sky blue dress and gold accessories, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Aemond is standing a few feet away, talking to Aegon, both looking absolutely handsome for the evening. Then, the atmosphere around you seems to fade a bit and he's the only one who catches your eye in the middle of the crowd.

And that mixture of emotions about him rises in your chest again.

You take a closer look at who is around him and it is only Aegon. You don't see any girl hanging on his arm or anything, so apparently he has come unaccompanied, just like you.

He is dressed in a dark suit that highlights his slender figure and impeccable posture, just like Aegon. The silver light of the disc balls bring out his silver hair and his face so perfectly detailed, giving it a glow that is almost unreal to you.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than you had anticipated. From a distance, you can notice the lack of expressions on his face and the small twitch of his lips as he speaks to Aegon, looking around him without really showing any emotion.

That eye contact takes the air out of you. The memory of all the things you shared, the conversations, the looks, the touching and kissing… it all comes over you.

And at that very moment, as if sensing the weight of your attention, Aemond looks up and sees you beyond the crowd, apart and alone. The visual connection is instantaneous, almost electric, and suddenly you feel all the people and bustle around you fade away.

You can't deny the attraction and deep affection that, even now, beat intensely in your chest. And, for an instant, you wonder if he too feels the same mix of nostalgia and sadness in the midst of it all.

You notice how he looks you up and down, lingering on every detail of what you're wearing today, his eyes shining, filled with a kind of wary hope and longing, completely stealing your breath.

Then, his body language tells you he's getting ready to move. Coming at you, with her determined gaze.

Oh God.

A sense of panic invades every part of your body. And before he can do anything, you look away and quickly make your way to the dance floor, blending into the crowd, heading towards your friends.

The music booms in your ears and your thoughts are in complete chaos, hitting you one after the other.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tell yourself that you just want to enjoy the night, to stop thinking about him and what was, even if it's only for a few hours.

So time passes, the energy of the dance becomes more relaxed, and though you manage to avoid crossing paths directly with Aemond, his presence seems to haunt your mind like a lingering ghost, one that doesn't dissipate with the music or the bright lights.

You look around from time to time, and out of the corner of your eye you notice that he also seems to avoid being too close to you, although you can't help thinking that maybe he is also looking for you in the crowd, as you are looking for him.

Until, finally, the atmosphere immediately changes.

The lights dim and the silver and warm tones transform the room into an intimate place. Couples begin to approach the dance floor, holding hands, to dance to the slow songs. And you decide it's the perfect time to take a break.

You smile at Cregan and Alysanne, giving them another moment again, feeling a twinge of tenderness and, at the same time, unexpected loneliness.

You take a seat at one of the nearby tables, watching as the dance floor fills with couples slowly swaying to the music.

Dresses and suits intertwine, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of the atmosphere, allowing yourself to feel invisible in the midst of all that harmony.

You watch Floris dancing with that boy, Alysanne with Cregan of course, and Helaena dancing with her friend, both with amused smiles and talking softly without taking the slow dance so seriously. You also see Aegon dancing very close with a girl.

And as your eyes wander around the dance floor, your gaze focuses again on his figure, which seems just as lonely as yours.

A few tables away, Aemond sits alone, surveying the dance floor with an expression you fail to fully decipher. His fingers drum on the rim of his glass, and, for a moment, he seems lost in his own thoughts. He looks calm, almost vulnerable.

You stare at him longer than you think and sigh, averting your gaze, and as the seconds pass, the urge to stand still and do nothing begins to fade.

You bite the inside of your cheek and begin to move your foot up and down rapidly, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast. You watch all the people dancing again, hesitating.

Then you let out a long breath and without knowing exactly why, you take a deep breath and stand up. With slow steps, a momentum and a calmness you try to maintain, you head towards him.

As you get closer, you notice how his gaze, which was lost on the dance floor, suddenly focuses on you, noticing before out of the corner of his eye your approaching figure. Surprise and bewilderment mixed with something else appears in his gaze and you stop in front of him, nervous but determined.

Then neither of you say anything for a few moments. The same nerves make you unable to speak and the two of you just stand there, watching each other.

You feel how some people around you suddenly have their attention focused on both of you, waiting for what you will do, but you don't even pay attention to them. You just focus completely on him.

Until you sigh.

"Do you dance?" you ask softly and nervous.

The words seem to break the spell, and Aemond blinks, clearly surprised and somehow confused.

You watch the expression on his face, as if he's processing every word you've just said, looking for some hint of doubt or change of heart in your expression.

"S-sure," he says still confused, not expecting this at all.

There's a mix of emotions in his eyes, confusion, surprise and nervousness, something you wouldn't have expected to see in him. And you, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, extend your hand to him.

He watches your face attentively and then your hand, still surprised, to finally take it gently. His fingers intertwine with yours, sending an electricity throughout your body through his touch as he stands up.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart beating like crazy and nervousness invading your whole system. And without another word, you both head for the dance floor.

Then, everything around you fades away, the murmurs and laughter, even the music itself becomes a distant whisper, and only he remains, next to you.

He places a hand on your waist, his touch delicate, as if he doesn't want to do anything that could break this fragile instant. You take his other hand, intertwining it with yours and as you both begin to move to the rhythm of the music, you feel how a mixture of emotions floods each of your senses.

Aemond watches you, his eyes fixed on yours and with a nervous little smile on his lips, as if he can't believe this is really happening.

The music moves forward, slow, allowing you to glide in front of each other. As his steps synchronize with yours, the movements become smooth and natural.

And in a moment you realize that you both are completely absorbed in each other, as if nothing and no one could interrupt this bubble that surrounds you.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice barely audible over the music and shy, watching you with a gleam in his eye.

"You look beautiful."

He says to you, his words so sincere and emotionally charged that you feel a surge of warmth wash over you.

You wish his words didn't make you melt. But they do. And everything about him, every gesture, his closeness, the firm, protective touch of his hand on your waist, the way he holds you, as if you were something precious and delicate, envelops and intoxicates you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a soft smile appear on your lips, "You too... you look very handsome."

He smiles, marking the dimples on either side of his cheeks.

"I wasn't expecting you to come over," he admits, his eyes revealing something between vulnerability and surprise.

The tone of his voice, so soft and honest, makes you feel a warmth you haven't experienced in a long time.

"I didn't know I would," you reply with a barely perceptible smile, "But I thought, maybe... I don't want to spend the night running away," you confess.

He nods, not looking away.

"I didn't want it to be like that either."

His hand on your waist pulls you slightly closer to him with a firm movement and the slight brush makes you aware of the closeness between the two of you.

You feel your thoughts cloud over and you let yourself become more enveloped by him, unable to help it.

His chin brushes your forehead and you feel that at any moment your heart will jump out of your chest. It's an insistent, powerful beat that seems to resonate with every breath you take at his side.

Then, Aemond lowers his voice, his tone becoming softer, almost melancholy, as if his words are a secret shared only between the two of you.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know? When I gave you the folder.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know, when I gave you the folder," he confesses, with a certain melancholy tone, "But I knew it wouldn't be fair to ask you that and I really didn't want to hurt you anymore."

The sincerity in his tone pierces you, and you feel your own barriers begin to crumble. You listen to him with your heart pounding, absorbing every word.

Aemond sighs and his fingers tighten slightly at your waist.

"And a moment ago, when I saw you so perfect and so beautiful in this dress... I realized how much I wished I had walked through those doors with you on my arm," he says with a longing and sadness.

The music continues to envelop you and you feel his confession reverberate through you, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

The strength of his words, of the connection that has been created between the two of you in the middle of this song, makes the air seem thick and charged with meanings that don't need to be explained.

Then you raise your gaze to him and you both stare at each other in silence, where your words seem to get caught in your throat.

His eyes roam over your face, as if he wants to remember every detail, as if he wants to take this moment with him. There is a sadness and a softness in his gaze that you haven't seen before, and it makes something in your chest tighten.

And again his voice breaks through the soft silence that envelops you.

"I'm sorry... for everything," he says barely a whisper, laden with a sincerity that resonates deeply.

His fingers trace slow circles on your back, small gestures that seem to try to comfort you and to comfort him too. The contact between the two of you is firm and warm, and yet, you feel as if Aemond fears that at any moment this could disappear.

For a moment, the music seems to fade, leaving only your heartbeat and the echo of his voice in the air.

You feel the urge to speak, to say something that would ease the vulnerability on his face, but you find it difficult to organize your thoughts.

Instead, you opt for a simple but meaningful gesture. You propel yourself a little towards him and leave a soft kiss on his cheek, then rest your head on his chest and gently inhale his expensive cologne, being comforting enough for you.

"It's okay," you murmur.

He lets out a sigh of relief, mixed with longing and makes his grip on your waist tighter, not wanting to let go. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head on yours as you both continue to sway gently to the music.

"Thank you for giving me this dance," he murmurs.

You place a soft, small smile on your lips, then raise your gaze to his, watching him with nothing but fondness.

He continues to watch you with that softness and one of his hands goes up to your cheek. In a delicate, almost fearful touch, his thumb runs over your skin in a gesture that is both protective and vulnerable.

Then he rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes, as you lean into him.

You both fall silent, letting the slow rhythm of the music carry you away, allowing the moment to linger, in a fragile and honest peace.

You feel that you could stay like this, in this bubble of time and silence, without the need for words, because, in this instant, you both understand what has been said and what doesn't need to be said.

The song changes to another slow one and you both lose yourselves in the moment, enjoying it, not wanting it to end.

Time seems to stand still as you dance together, moving slowly and leisurely, as if nothing and no one else exists. The sounds of the party fade around you, leaving only the beating of your hearts and the faint brush of your breaths.

Your eyes close as you let go, feeling his hand on your back and the warmth his body gives off, so close and so full of meaning.

You both breathe in sync, your foreheads resting against each other, your eyes closed as the moment stretches out and becomes more than just a dance.

This instant is a truce, a refuge where everything else, the doubts, the pain, the past, is suspended and what follows is moving forward.

"You've got everything ready to go to college?"

His voice breaks the silence softly, barely a murmur, as if afraid to disturb the peace around you both.

"Yeah," you murmur, nodding.

"What are you traveling there on?"

"Well, I was checking with my dad about bus and plane ticket prices. But I still haven't made up my mind," you admit, remembering discussions about which was the safest and cheapest option.

Aemond nods, thoughtfully. Then, after a brief pause, he speaks with calm assurance.

"I can take you."

You look at him instantly surprised, definitely not expecting that.

"What?"

"I can take you," he repeats, sure of his words, "Well, sure, if you want," he hastens to clarify, "After all, we're going to the same place and I'll make the trip in my car," he explains, "There's plenty of room for your bags along with mine and so you won't have to spend on a ticket. Besides, it would be safer and I think, I don't know, you'd be more comfortable."

You remain silent, trying to assimilate what he has just said. There is something in his words, in the slow and sincere tone, that strikes a deep chord in you.

The idea of making the trip together, of sharing that important moment of departure, of having one last time alone before facing a new life, awakens a mix of emotions that are difficult to describe.

He lowers his gaze for a moment, nervous, clarifying in a low voice.

"It's just a suggestion... something I thought might make things easier for you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Your heart pounds, and somehow, the simplicity of his offer, the naturalness with which he cares for you, causes a warm surge of gratitude and affection to wash over you.

"Can you really do that for me?" you ask quietly, with a little smile you can't help.

"Sure," he says absurdly softly, as if it weren't obvious, "But only if you want me to. I don't want to force you. It's just an option."

You look up at him, holding his gaze for a second that seems like forever, and nod slowly, allowing the feeling of relief and closeness to wash over you.

"I'd love to," you whisper, your voice barely a murmur, "Thank you."

The shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, and you can see the relief in his expression.

"No need to thanks."

Without another word, Aemond pulls you a little closer to him and again the two of you bring your foreheads together, letting the moment lengthen as the music changes to another slow rhythm.

You both remain like that, moving in silence and enjoying the moment, spending the last moment of your high school lives together, to start college together.

"Are you ready?"

Aemond watches you from the driver's seat, his hands resting calmly on the steering wheel with a small smile on his face.

The car is already loaded with suitcases for both of you and you nod, taking a deep breath to calm the emotions fluttering in your chest.

The thought of heading off together towards this new stage causes a mixture of nerves and excitement to wash over you, though a part of you also feels comforted by Aemond's presence at your side.

"Yes," you reply, adjusting your belt.

You watch him and he gives you one last knowing look before putting the car in move.

Saying goodbye to your dad was difficult, but it was something you were both already preparing for and you knew that moment would come.

Besides, he met Aemond, as your friend who will do you the favor of driving you to college and nothing more. And your dad felt safer with that instead of taking the plane or bus alone.

Especially after Aemond promised him countless times that he would take care of you at all times.

The road is serene at first, and Aemond turns on the radio, letting a soft melody fill the comfortable silence between them.

The roads stretch out in front of you, long and exciting, as the landscape changes shape and the kilometers pass, leaving behind the city where you experienced so much.

From time to time, you exchange glances, small comments about the places you see and the expectations each has for the university.

Aemond seems especially careful, attentive to every sign on the road and every change in your expression, as if he wants to make sure you are comfortable and at ease.

And he especially notices a change in your expression.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks you, his voice low but close, filling the space in a comforting way.

You watch him and after some hesitation, you shrug.

"I guess it makes me a little nervous not knowing what to expect," you admit, "This whole new stage... the idea of being alone in a new place."

Aemond nods, understanding what you mean, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I guess it's normal," he tells you softly, "It's almost obligatory to feel this way, but, for what it's worth... you won't be completely alone."

His gaze meets yours for a second before he turns back to the road.

"I'm going to be around if at any time you need anything or anything happens, anything at all."

You feel a warmth settle in your chest, and a part of your nerves seem to fade. The idea of him being there, close by, offering you that closeness, gives you a strange sense of relief.

"Thank you, Aemond," you murmur with a small smile.

He smiles, marking a dimple in his cheek, and turns his eyes to the front.

The ride continues, where the atmosphere in the car becomes more and more comfortable, chatting about small details, expectations, and the occasional joke that makes you both laugh comfortably.

And finally, as the two enter the town of Oldtown and the university looms in the distance, Aemond slows down, looking at the campus that would soon become his home.

"There it is," he says, a slight excitement in his voice.

The same excitement rubs off on you and excitedly, you take his hand, intertwining it with yours, excited and hopeful.

Hopeful that all that is to come for you in this place are good and promising things. As well as hopeful for Aemond and for you.

series taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @queen-of-elves

[stealingyourbones]

I don't really get the people who think reading the comics is such a radical idea. Don't they want to learn more about them? aren't they curious what makes them tick? what insane adventures they went on? what fears they have? what makes them laugh and smile? I'm from europe so I haven't seen any of the DC shows I see mentioned every once in a while (which means I really don't get the whole Clark hates clones thing... but that's a different thing) and it's only been this year that I have enough disposable income to splurge on comics, aka I haven't read that many just yet.

But I do think the ones I have read enhance the stories I'm trying to tell, which to me is a good reason to read them ;p but besides that, they are fun! they are just really fun to read

I’m glad you’re having fun reading comics man! It’s a shame that folks don’t read them as much but you know, I can understand it. I both asked some folks in the Haunting Heroes discord server and have some of my own points to make about this.

First of all I do still believe that you should consume some form of DC media if you’re in the fandom. It’s fun and there are comics, books, movies, tv shows, and every other form of medium known to man that you can take a peek at! Idk I’m just a bit DC enjoyer and think that looking at canon media to expand on your knowledge and help create ideas you wouldn’t have had if you hadn’t looked at said piece of media.

Now onto why reading comic books is hard:

Some folks simply prefer the fandom and not the official DC content. Whether they prefer fanon, find fics more accessible, or like the people in the fandom, they’d rather just stick to the fandom.

They simply don’t know where to start. Getting into comics can be INCREDIBLY overwhelming ( DC has done their best to fix this and has messed up more than once. My go to is to reccomend folks just start reading New 52 comic runs as it’s really good for new readers to jump into the comics with any hero that might intrigue them). Big comic events span multiple comic story runs and not a cohesive line of comics, some omnibuses for stories are out of print, the 80+ years of comics are daunting as hell, and everyone has their own opinion on the best versions of a character/where to start/what to read.

Money. Comics are an expensive hobby to have. They may cost $1-$5 each on average but that price adds up over time. I have a comic collection of roughly 1,300 comics. I’d estimate its value very roughly around the $7,800 range. It’s probably far more than that though and I know damn well reselling it I won’t get half of that value back. I’m very fortunate to be a college student with disposable income and for this hobby to be the only thing I ever really spend money on besides rent and food. Some people either can’t afford them or don’t want to buy a comic they don’t know if it’s good or not.

Varying quality. Comics are a very mixed bag thing where they can be incredibly written or some of the worst pieces of media you’ve ever read. With this being the case, it can be really hard to find a comic character or writer you like if that’s your first experience. It takes a while to learn about different writers and find out who your favorite writers are. What’s harder is some writers can make absolute masterpieces with one character and the next comic run they cover it can be absolute garbage. Not only that, everyone has opinions on what is a good comic run or not. It’s impossible to find a repeatedly stated and easily accessible list on the good comics to read.

Pretentious “Canon is God” fans. Experiencing “um actually this isn’t good because this isn’t how the canon character would act” responses from people can really fucking suck and diminish their want to experience anything that’s official DC writing. I’ve seen more than one person go into this primarily fanon focused space and insult people saying their writing isn’t canonical and therefore it isn’t valid. It’s Uber Pretentious, demeaning, and actively harms peoples interests in checking out canon content.

Timelines. I already kind of said it but DC’s timelines are a mess. hell, even New 52 has some fucked up timelines making all of Batman’s previous timelines canon but happen only within a seven year period. That’s WAY too short for how much history is packed in there. The amount of crisises that happen and fully change the lore and timelines of characters is bonkers, the comic runs that bounce between different comic runs are really confusing, and the fact that there isn’t a True Starting Point for reading makes it so hard to grasp anything that’s happening. It’s one of comics biggest issues and no matter what DC has done they have yet to find a convenient solution.

Sensitive Content. Comics from DC are littered with either intentional, badly aged, or ignorantly written plot points and writing choices that will turn away readers. DC has its fair share of sexism, misogyny, abelism, racism, abuse, sexual harassment, sexual assaults, or topics casually addressed that can be very triggering for some people. Especially since a large amount of that sort of content is handled incredibly poorly. One particular writer, Alan Moore, writes sexual assault scenes with absolutely zero tact or the delicateness that a topic such as that should be held in. It’s almost solely used as a “let’s make the bad guy do the most fucked up thing they could do” throwaway plot point. Comics of the sort dissuade a lot of readers because of both the heavy content within comics and how that content can be incredibly poorly handled. This is partially why some folks would prefer to read fics. Comics are a unknown mixed grab bag when it comes to content like this and things exactly like this is known to make PTSD symptoms worse while fics have tags and can warn you before you consume the content within.

Time. A lot of folks have busy lives and just don’t have the time to read them.

The ways they intake media. Some folks might have a better time watching a long commentary video that explains a comic or their brain can’t process the comic medium very well. I can read and retain comic knowledge but even I am unique in this aspect, my memory is frightening levels of bad and is proven by science to be absolute shit. I have to reread comics at least once a month to retain the basic bare bones plot. Just because one person can easily digest what’s going on in a comic doesn’t mean everyone can.

Comics are such a big part of my life. I love them so much and they’ve gotten me through so many things. My own experience with comics isn’t the same for others and my thoughts on reading comics differs with other people. A lot of people have equally as many reasons for why they don’t read comics as you and I have for reading them.

[luveline]

Do you think maybe you could do a quick Miguel fic of him being supportive/comforting to spider-girl cause she’s been working too hard and stretched herself a bit thin trying to make everyone happy? I’ve read all your Miguel stories and it feels like it fits LMAO (I love love love all of your stuff btw you’re one of my fav Miguel writers)

thank you for your request! grumpy miguel comforts a tired spidergirl. 1.2k

Miguel doesn't bother looking down at the thwipping sound of a web connecting with the platform. You're the only person he knows well enough, who knows him well enough, to come up without asking. 

"Woah," you say, pulling yourself onto the platform with altogether too much force, taking a running stumble at him as you try to keep your balance. 

Miguel puts a hand out to catch you without looking away from his screen. "Careful." 

"Thanks, handsome," you croon, though it's missing its signature pep. 

Miguel does look up, then, dragging his attention from the monitors to rake it over you. You have your mask on, which is odd but not unheard of, and your posture is tight. The majority of your weight is being held on one foot, and when he follows your leg upward, your thigh is curving outward. How weird. 

You pull away from him gently and shimmy over to the desk you've stolen, a mountain of your things that topples intermittently lying in wait for your return. As soon as you approach, the flying droid you take on missions whizzes into the air and dances around your shoulders, not unlike the way you move yourself. 

"Come over here," Miguel says. 

"No," you say primly, "you're in a strange mood." 

"You've been here for two seconds," he says. If he were in a strange mood, it's not as if you could've already gathered that from so little observation. 

"Yeah, and you're not usually eager to have me near," you say. True and untrue. 

"Come here." 

You sigh and approach him as though he's dragging you, reeling you in, every footstep heavier than the last. Miguel grabs you by the shoulders when you're close and stations you neatly in front of him, thumb quick to find the seam of your mask and slide beneath. 

You squint at the sudden light of the room, unmasked, though your expression quickly relaxes. "You want to kiss me," you guess, saccharine sweet as you tilt your chin upwards. 

Miguel dodges your feigned kiss. You aren't wrong about what he wants, but you haven't identified his main priority, which is to find out why you'd been wearing the mask in the first place, and why you're walking like your converse shoes are full of cement. 

You're very, very tired, evidently. You look exhausted. Miguel has seen you run down before, you stretch yourself thin often, and you do it without complaint, but this is a new level. His heart actually hurts in his chest, he's that gutted for you. 

Miguel glares at you. "What, you're not sleeping?" 

"Oh, don't, handsome," you say, moving as though you're going to walk away. 

Miguel takes your face into his hand and keeps you where you are. "Hey, answer me." 

"Of course I'm sleeping," you say. You won't meet his eyes. Liar. "You're a tyrant." 

Be that as it may, Miguel wants what's best for you. He draws a line under your dark circles with the pad of his thumb, feeling the puffy skin regretfully. Carefully, so carefully, he traces the line of a tear unshed from the corner of your eye to the corner of your lips. 

"Not enough, then." 

You look at him funny. Your bottom lip twitches, and every ounce of his cool dissipates as you frown and lean forward, pressing your face to his chest. 

"I'm busy," you confess in a murmur, your arms hanging loosely around his waist.

Miguel takes it for I'm really tired. He hesitates, looking down at you, your smaller stature, feeling the weight your letting him hold up for the trust it is. You're tired and you're telling him, even though he had to prod. 

Miguel hugs your shoulders. You sag like a popped balloon. 

"I'm busy," he says, though he amends quickly at the sudden rigidness of your back under his hands, "I'm busy, and I still sleep. You have to sleep." 

"If I want to… to make time for me, I keep staying up late, you know? I've been training, and helping Hobie Brown take down the establishment–"

"What?" 

"–and I was trying to make that cover for your wristband but I keep getting it wrong." You stop suddenly. Your hand screws tighter into his front, fingers digging ineffectual against nanotechnology. "I'm useless, even when I try." 

"Why would you say that?" he asks quietly.

"I can't get things right. I want to do everything. I want to get better at fighting so I can come with you. I want to be a good friend to Hobie. I want to make you things 'cos you deserve them. I'm sorry. I just make everything worse."

Miguel let's you wallow for a moment. He's no stranger to self-loathing. It can feel good to simmer. He rubs your back inchingly slowly, not sure why he's letting himself, not sure why he's holding back. 

Miguel takes your shoulders into his hands and eases you back, ducking his head to meet your eyes. Forcing you to listen. "You don't make anything worse. You're tired, and being tired makes everything feel worse than it is. You're not the problem." 

Your cheek lists down to your shoulder. "You're being nice." 

"You don't have as much effect on things as you think," he says, ducking his head again to look you straight in the eye. "I mean that in a good way. You aren't hurting anyone. You can say no." 

"I don't want to say no." 

"You have to." He's tipping into tenderness now, plummeting fast and hard. "You need to look after yourself if you want to look after other people," he says. He wonders if what he's about to say is fair, but he's so unhappy with your obvious rampant fatigue that he decides he can live with the bad karma. "What if I need you to come with me to the next anomaly recovery? And you're too tired to stand? You'd have me go by myself?" 

"No." 

"Exactly, so do the right thing and sleep." Miguel says it simply, pulling away, pulling back, physically and emotionally. He likes you more than he should but being vulnerable is difficult. He hides behind a facade —your problem is ridiculous, and he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. 

You see straight through him. Hear the unsaid please. "I will. I'll go to bed… Thank you, Miguel." 

The facade slips as Miguel gives your bicep a warm squeeze. He turns away from you without another word, redirecting his attention on the screens, your presence like a thrumming he has to fight to ignore. 

"Bye, handsome," you say, stepping sideways off of the platform. He relaxes at the sound of a web sticking and your footsteps as they lead away. 

He rubs the bridge of his nose. 

"Inspiring," Lyla says, appearing from nowhere, a delighted, smarmy smile flickering across her face.

"That is getting so old," Miguel complains.

"Deprogram me, then." 

"Would if I could." 

"Ah, but then who would witness your frankly embarrassing attempts at comfort?" 

Miguel tries to catch her like a moth. She scoffs and leaps between his fingers. 

[twst-hottest-takes]

When Pomefiore first came out on the JP server a few years ago, I genuinely thought that Neige's cutesiness was just an act and that he was far darker behind closed doors. But, nope. Turns out that Neige is completely "what you see is what you get", and that really threw me off. I'm not the only one. I'm not the only one. Other fic writers in this fandom like LeaderPinhead have said that they thought the same thing.

While it's fine that Yana never went in that direction, she never did anything with his character either. He's just a cardboard cutout for Vil to sneer at and literally nothing else. It's so bad that Vil ironically is the better Snow White analog. Vil is similar to her personality wise, being hardworking, adaptable, assertive and at times kind. He has plenty of flaws like being overly domineering, being too blunt and harsh among other things, but that's a good thing. Those negative traits only make him feel like a real person and a modern male version of Snow White. Neige's similarities are limited to only his looks. His backstory makes no sense and comes right out of nowhere. (Seriously, why wasn't he and the dwarves taken in by Child Protective Services, if he was a minor in modern times?) That's such a waste to me. Neige is the antagonist of the Pomefiore arc, so there should be more to him than that.

However, if I wrote this story, I would do just that. Make Vil the one based on Snow White and Neige is based on the Evil Queen, being like Maurice Cole from Black Butler.

While I haven't read Black Butler, from what I heard from one of my friends and after watching a summary video of the Public School Arc, Cole is Redmond's helper (not using the manga's term because it's a slur). He has a cutesy demeanor, coming off as courteous and polite. He is beloved in the school. Behind closed doors, he's the worst, and, in all honesty, is like a modern version of the Evil Queen. He's a vain asshole, who hates hard work, and frequently leaves his duties to those beneath him. He is willing to resort to underhanded methods to get what he wants. When someone does something better than him, he will make sure to knock them down.

Why couldn't Neige be more like that? Don't get me wrong. I don't think Neige should've been a copy and paste of that other character. Hell, I would argue that differentiating them is a good thing. Not only to change things up, but according to that same friend, he's boring and lazily written. Plus, I don't see Neige doing one of Cole's despicable actions being ever greenlit by Disney. But I think giving Neige some of those same traits would be a step in the right direction. That way he would have a personality and be an actual threat to Vil.

I have seen a lot of people say similar things about their expectations for Neige actually.

Thank you for your take.

You've made a very thoughtful entry here, and I will leave it mostly for others to read and respond to because I think this is an interesting conversation to be had.

My own thoughts are short, that I definitely like the idea of Neige being more characterized so that he can be more of, you know, a character, but I never really liked the idea of him being secretly nasty. I feel like there's too much stock in the corruption of innocence and really would like to have a character as straightforward and just nice as Snow White was--though to be fair we do have Kalim already so people might not want another character too similar to him. In any case maybe a fun idea would be Vil being paranoid about Neige like "No one of his celebrity is that nice!" and part of his beef with him is being annoyed by the idea that Neige is just that genuine. TWST fails at making much out of that rivalry though. With Yana's writing history for Black Butler and such I don't blame people for thinking there should have been a darker side here.

[gyaruhana]

Hai since you aren't taking actual fic requests right now and only headcanons I wanted to ask if you also do those rankings? If you haven't seen basically people ask a question like 'who would be the biggest gentleman in a relationship' and the person who asks either gives a few characters for the writer to rank and write a few sentences or let the writer choose which characters they think fit best

But yeah I've basically have been seeing this a lot recently and had to think of you and your blog because I think I'd be something nice and short to write when you don't wanna do hc's/fic's and could help with potential writers block !

And if you plan on doing that then here would be your first ranking request !! :3

So out of Thanos, gwi-nam and niragi who would be the most freaky and rough in bed?

(btw I know this is long and I hope this wasn't a bother to you, I just ramble a lot about things I'm interested in and I just love your blog and everything you've written so far and I hope you continue <33)

im in love with this ranking system thingy uhm oh em gee ?!?!?!?!

i will absolutely be ranking now it's such a cute concept😭😭

below is my personal ranking.. (also thank you for liking my writing it always makes me so nervous when people compliment me..)

No.3: Choi Su-Bong/Thanos (Squid Game)

Thanos is rough, yes. He likes choking you, he likes making you cry - not to mention he really enjoys edging you for as long as possible to watch your face contort in slight pain as you beg him to let you cum.

However, I'd argue he's not entirely the type to force you into anything if it makes you super uncomfortable. The only exception for this is when he's high and not really mentally present but most of the time he doesn't push you too far over the limit.

Of course, don't mistake this for me saying he's not rough! He totally is. But, compared to the others I'm ranking, he's def less extreme..

────────────────────────────────────────────

No.2: Yoon Gwi-Nam (All Of Us Are Dead)

This is pretty self-explanatory.. we've seen plenty of scenes with him and he does NOT play.

Again, he also likes seeing you cry and choking you and blah blah blah but he's more freaky than Thanos which is why he's number two on my ranking.

He's ONLY degrading. There's nothing nice about this man. Maybe he would've pretended to be a little nice but he drops all that when he's fucking you honestly.

However, he's still only no.2 because while, yes, he isn't above being violent toward you and man handling you - he's not quite as bad as who i put as no.1

────────────────────────────────────────────

No.1: Suguru Niragi (Alice In Borderland)

No.1 for a reason.

He's the roughest and the freakiest best believe it !! He really doesn't bother playing nice whatsoever. If he sees you and he likes you, he'll just claim you without a care in the world.

Just really kinky in my opinion!!

prolly into gun play, knife play - anything incredibly violent sorry not sorry. I mean.. we all know the typa guy he is so..

i'd argue he views you ENTIRELY as a doll for his pleasure. Not anything more honestly.

────────────────────────────────────────────

CONCLUSION: First time ranking and I may have made it a little fancy set up bc i got excited at this concept..

But, yes - Niragi is No.1 on this list. I feel like he's just a real kinky and rough asshole. Although, I do totally see Gwinam being similar to Niragi in the future when he reaches PEAK dickhead-ness.

My king Thanos is only No.3 bc he's not totally mean at heart i feel.. he's just really rough when he's high but I don't think he'd be the same level of rough as Gwinam and Niragi.

anyway, hope my ranking was good !!

────────────────────────────────────────────

(thank you sm for this idea i need more holy moly..)

[blueraith]

What does fanfiction mean to you?

I'm asking this question because today I came across some ugly, mean-spirited, catty behavior towards a fic author that I haven't seen in a very, very long time, and I think it's important we discuss it as a community.

Y'all know how long I've been doing this? Fanfiction, that is.

Eighteen years.

I've posted across different platforms, on different handles, in different ways for a long, long time. More than half of my life at this point, from fourteen years old.

Fanfiction is how I personally engage with fandom the most. It's THE most important thing to me, frankly, because it is the common thread between each and every single fandom I have ever participated in.

It's self-expression to me. Folk art. Collaborative and fun. I truly hope that most people who engage in fanfiction learn what it is to beta for someone even if you don't write yourself. It can be a fantastic experience in and of itself. Being the backboard to someone else's ideas, watching as they take genuine joy out of spinning a story together to put onto the page, seeing it come to life before anyone else and feeling almost as proud as the author themselves after they finally post it.

It's ultimately why I decided to make this post far more positive and productive than the angry, grumpy, blood boiling rant that I initially was churning over in my mind after the horrible posts I saw earlier.

I'll detail them here purely for context because I think it's important to recognize toxic fandom behavior when we see it. And speak out when we stumble across it.

The first post lauded itself as an 'honest review' of a popular fanfiction in a community I am a part of. That honest review was nothing more than a pop-critique filled with a sort of catty, snarky write up that is so popular nowadays online purely to gain clout more than to act as actual, constructive criticism. It was unnecessary and acted as though the fanfiction author was a professional, New York Times Bestseller rather than someone devoting hours of their free time and effort into a hobby that is ultimately meant to be fun and pleasant.

The second post by the same person claimed that their friend had challenged them to write their own version of the premise of this fanfiction under a read more cut. It spent some time applying a thin veneer of so-called respect to the original author, but was merely nothing more than contempt really. I simply fail to see the need to ever do this while publicly attaching an author's name and work title and arrogantly parade your own work as superior to their own. Why tear down someone else?

I pushed back against them directly on this post, they took it down, but not before childishly trying to excuse their actions and claiming that 'if someone is publicly posting, then they should be able to handle vocal criticism.'

But you know what? One, what that person was doing was not constructive criticism. I think back to the beta session I had with a friend right after this incident and I think to myself, how sad must it be that this is what this person thinks is valuable criticism. That this is the way they chose to engage with the fanfiction community and thought they were in the right to do so.

Two, and perhaps even more importantly, people are accountable for the things that they post. The things that they say. It would have cost this person nothing to never make those posts in the first place. To never risk an author coming across a mean-spirited and malicious teardown of the work they put hours into and risk harming their self-esteem, mental health, or confidence in their own writing.

Because we do not know who these people are behind their handles. We do not know if they're new to writing. If they are experienced but going through a tough time. There are real people who write the content you choose to consume.

Fanfiction is a collaborative process. Writers provide the free content, and it is the reader's responsibility to know when their input would be valuable.

Is what you have to say helpful? Is it kind? Is it necessary?

If the feedback you want to provide does not hit at least two of those things, what you have to say does not matter. Period.

And I daresay that in the vast majority of cases, kindness should be considered mandatory out of the three.

In return, writers will often throw in ideas they've read out of reviews, they'll reach out to their most ardent followers for things like beta-ing or joining a discord server nowadays. There's always been a give and take in this community.

Fanfiction is a cornerstone of fandom for a reason. And it is particularly important in the queer community, going all the way back to actual physical magazines in which people mailed in their KirkxSpock fic decades ago. Over time we've experimented on the process, moved to countless different platforms, survived collapses of all sorts of communities, only to rally over and over again around each other to be able to tell the tales we wanted to see but were not getting as queer folk amongst mainstream media.

And in that time, it's been long agreed on in this space that you do not tear down another writer to build yourself up. Ever. Period. This has long been the only thing in fanfiction that has been aggressively policed, called out, and nipped in the bud when experienced members of this community come across it.

It will not be tolerated.

I shouldn't have to make this post, but I suppose this is the changing of the guard, so to speak. We have a new generation of fic writers and readers coming into the space daily and while so many of you are wonderful, creative, and welcomed members of this space that has been here long before me or anyone of my age, there are some who do not know how to act in the fanfiction community.

And it is up to us to make it clear in no uncertain terms that they will need to either get with program or be pushed out.

To become the best version of yourself as a writer requires hours of work, of posting again and again, of experimentation, of putting hints of your own life and experiences onto the page. The vast majority of us will never be published, and that's just fine for most of us. We engage in this hobby because of how joyful it can be to write something dear to our hearts, share it with the world, and be validated that others enjoyed the work that we put in.

Frankly, readers will always owe it to us to respect that process and work. To be respectful and kind when interacting with authors. Constructive criticism can be welcomed but perhaps ask if the author is open to it and do not take it personally if they are not. And if they are, then learn how to give it with the writer's best interest in mind rather than your own ego.

I don't ordinarily request reblogs to my posts, I rant into the void and it doesn't matter to me if anyone really interacts on an ordinary day lol. But today, I want to ask that people share this message out in your fandoms, because I will be tagging it in the fandoms I interacted in, both past and present. Because fanfiction is a common thread that unites so many of us, and I think this is an important reminder on how we need to be respectful and kind to one another in this space.

If you feel comfortable, I would also love to hear how fanfiction is important to you. How you got into it. Why you love to either read, write, or beta it.

This is hobby that is meant to be fun, so let's have fun.

[saynomorefic]

2024 fandom review

Ty for tagging me @willesredlights @phneltwrites @grounded-parasocial <3

This is going to be a mishmash of formats I've seen, so thanks everyone for giving me ideas

Fics written

I started watching and writing YR this year, so 2024 has really been huge for me in returning to fandom and fic writing. I wrote 27 works (plus tumblr ficlets) and 117k words, by far the most I've written!

First fic posted in 2024: You Kill Me (WIP) 2024-02-06

My love letter to Young Royals. Anyone who has read this, thank you and sorry, it's deeply personal and my raw initial reaction to watching the show.

Last fic posted in 2024: Ghosts of Simons Past 2024-12-23

Silly little christmas fic!

Fav fic I've written: Let's take this overboard (WIP) 2024-06-25

My Mediterranean yacht AU! Ah my beloved. Thank you to everyone for showing this story love. It's still going, I'm just putting the pieces together. How do you pick a direction when you have so many?

It's been a big year of writing :) I haven't written creatively for about 9 years, so it's safe to say Young Royals and this community have ignited a creative spark I didn't know I had in me. When I was a kid my dream was to be a writer. Getting emotional here, but it's hitting me that in a way, that dream has come true in a way! I know fanfic is not technically professional writing, but in a way it's cooler - we don't get to just message our favorite "real" authors whenever we want, nor do bigger authors get to experience being in a club of writers like this! (actually I wouldn't know, but w/3).

Thank you to every single person who has sat down and read my little stories, you guys truly don't know what you have given me and how much it means.

Fics read under the cut <3

Fics read

I can't give a number, but I have bookmarked 117 fics since 2024-02-11, and it's safe to say I've read at least 4x that.. so uh.. it's a lot :''))

This is a list of favs after going through my bookmarks, and definitely not an exhaustive list of all the fics I've read and loved from this past year. Thank you to ALL writers out there for your amazing work <3

First fic I bookmarked/ read: objects in motion by Capiche

Last fic I read: Under the Mistletoe by @vvachillessongvv (so cute!)

Some favorites I've read this year:

Stairway to Heaven by @unfortunate17

the person responsible for finding young royals, and this was one of the very first fics I read! Heartbreaking and wonderful.

Something Real as Pain by @crownedwille

I love how this story directly engages with power differences between Wilhelm and Simon, and I'm so proud of these two <3

be the place you call your home by @phneltwrites

I love them so much. No one does post-canon like you! such a unique writing voice and characterizations to match <3

Faroe Gone by @groenendaelfic

Pining Simon. Pining Wilhelm. Remote island-farm-cottage sex. What more could you want?

We Left Footprints When We Passed By by @in-amor-veritas

One of the first long fics I read, and these two will never leave me.

darling, lost in the darkling woods by Ripki on ao3

honorable mention to Align, but this noir gripped me like no other.

Fright Fest! by @enjoythesilentworld

I adore everything about this, horrorific, whumpy and visceral <33

sleep, dream, you, repeat (live, die next to me) by @espejonight28738

This little gem! The Midsommar AU. So so good, so well written.

bittersweet ecstasy (I pick my poison and it's you) by wthbaby (ao3)

An amazing ABO fic that's more werewolf /fantasy than anything!

The initiation - sorry if we got a bit rough by @silvagrey

A really interesting look at the aftermath of Wilhelm's initiation ritual, and a type of canon divergence I've never seen!

A Glimpse of Us by @simons-purplehoodie

An early love, read this in April and was swept away.

Look at us by @willesredlights

So hot, so sweet, and bonus that it was a gift for me! <33

to color with two by @wildcalendula

I love the way they communicate about sex here. So tender and loving and lovely. Just this whole series!

The Way We Were by queerofthemonth (ao3)

Damaged popstar Simon. Sad Kronprins Wilhelm. Fuck.

Cock by @stretchoutfics

Just so much to say about pining and sexuality crisis Wilhelm. It feels so realistic, and I love their communication here.

One, two, three (Not only you and me) by @skibasyndrome

So much communication, so much trust, so much honesty. And the LAPDANCING? Also, thank you so much for every kinktober contribution, promise we are all very grateful <3

Where We Left Off by @gulliblelemon

So tender, they will literally be in my heart forever. It's time to re-read!

come closer and see into the dark (WIP) by @bigalockwood

I can't decide what's better, unique magical ghosts or juicy slow burn interpersonal relationships at the YR ghost agency. Love <3

losing a friend is the hardest part by psyanky on ao3

God do a love break ups and second chances. And everything psyanky writes.

We're Going to Be Friends (Lilac Grove) by wilmonlibrarian on ao3

I'm so in love. Borrower Simon is adorable, and it blows my mind how this author created this whole world.

I am awaiting you (WIP) by @toffeelemon and thatgayprince (pls help me tag on tumblr!)

I am so in love with Princess Simon and Wille here. Uadhakjsdha

i've got power in my hands (and it's yours for the taking) by @starvalisedham

The library fight from August's POV. There are LAYERS here, and I love how much is up to interpretation reg. his perception of Wilmon.

maybe now maybe here tonight by @dreamyelectronicmusic

I love a getting back together fic, and the writing! I'm in awe.

My Home for All Time by @hergrandplan

Amazing contributions for Wille's month! Every ficlet and morsel.

words written down by @caramelpenguin

Every single one. how do I pick? Thank you for always sharing these beautiful snapshots with us <3

this is the golden age of something good and right and real (Painter AU) series by @alltoowille

I couldn't choose bc the first part was INSANE. and then I read it and realized there was 50k+ after? Think I ascended. Thank you <3

and last but not least obviously by @grapehyasynth

Changed me. Changed how I write, and then changed me again.

Final reflections

I wanted to say I loved helping celebrate Wilmonhits5k on ao3, and big thanks to everyone who participated through fic recs and commenting.

I have to mention the people that keep this fic world turning through fic recs, making gifs, fandom engagement, and more! @simonsapelsin @youngroyals-events @kruemel8 @sillyunicorn @grounded-parasocial @books-books-smolderinglooks @impossibleknots @sillylittleflower and too many more to list. You guys are truly the best <3

If we have never chit chatted, feel free to come say hi! <3 Happy new year to you all, and here's to more YR magic in 2025.

[cpvnksabm]

@ rtc fic writers

you really do have to research neuromuscular disabilities if ricky significantly appears in your fics. few to no exceptions. sorry.

ricky potts is important disability representation and, more specifically, he has a rare degenerative neuromuscular disease. this specific representation is important and therefore it's important to depict his neuromuscular disorder accurately. all disabilities are different and it's a huge problem when people, not understanding and/or not wanting to research neuromuscular disorders specifically, just give him any disability while erasing the one he canonically has, and think it's fine just because "well he's still disabled isn't he?".

i think canon (as in 2015-2018 scripts) is a good starting reference point for depicting ricky accurately because again, the specific disability he has in canon is important to represent. but canon also only seriously depicts him as disabled very briefly on-stage and spends most of the musical doing singing and dancing that he wouldn't be physically capable of if he was alive. if you're depicting ricky realistically for longer than canon does then you will have to do outside research to see how his disability would likely impact him, because you're definitely not getting a full picture from him using crutches for 2 minutes onstage.

i think sometimes people assume they don't have to worry about researching to write ricky, because they don't think he's a major enough character for his disability to become relevant - or, more upsettingly, i think sometimes people make ricky a more minor character so that his disability won't become relevant, because that way they don't have to do research.

unfortunately there's one big issue here, which is that if you haven't done the research, how can you know when his disability will be relevant?

ricky has a complex disability that would realistically affect his whole life in varying ways and what we see in canon is only a surface level view. let's say you're writing a fic where you don't need to bother researching for ricky because his only appearance is going out for lunch with the choir - did you know that neuromuscular disorders, especially ones that cause difficulty speaking or an inability to speak (which ricky has!), often cause difficulty swallowing? this would affect his diet and in fact potentially imply that he uses a feeding tube (which is also implied by one of ocean's lines in WTWN), making it very relevant when getting lunch with the choir!

of course that lunch idea is just a hypothetical example, and it's just one example. what i'm saying here is that there are many activities that seem simple, that you wouldn't even think twice about in relation to ricky, that would realistically be complicated by his disability.

of course not every fic has to tackle disability in detail, or even has time to do so, but it's noticeable when something happens where ricky's disability would impact him and it just isn't mentioned. it's something that can accidentally slide into disability erasure, which is a problem, and it also just makes it really obvious when the writer wasn't aware of something or didn't think very hard about it. heck this post is mainly directed at fic writers but i've even seen headcanon posts where it's been obvious the OP needed to do a little more research.

so basically, when i say you need to research to write ricky accurately & understand his disability, i don't just mean that if you're planning on writing a fic that significantly involves his disability you should research for that fic specifically. i think that you should do some basic research before you plan on writing anything, just to make sure you understand his disability when you're active in the fandom. and then if his disability becomes more relevant in a fic - which you will be able to recognise due to the basic research you've already done - you can do more research as needed.

besides, even if it turns out you never write anything where this is relevant, there's no harm in learning more about neuromuscular disease and disability in general! it might become useful information in real life at some point, or it might just be good to know.

[choccy-milky]

(SPOILER WARNING to people who haven't read your story) I SWEAR to GOD!!!! This is borderline anon-hate with my current state of mind after finishing The Raven and The Snake over this weekend. I finished it in two days. I'm a mess. I've even started making a playlist because I feel like I can't properly enter reality again. I'm supposed to be writing my bachelors thesis right now,,,, what have you done to me!!!!

I loved it so so so much, and I am very mad I cannot have a collectors edition hardback version of it on my shelf. There are many many moments that keep replaying in my head, and scenes that I saw so vividly when reading through it. The first imperio moment and Sebs shadow and imperio-green eyes as Clora was held captive, and the entire scene in the repository and how I was physically shaking as I slowly realised that Seb had made a fucking horcrux, and when it was CONFIRMED the GASP i GUSPED. It was so perfect, and so very Sebastian; because OF COURSE he made a horcrux (lowkey hot, sue me).

And the scene where Clive realised Seb straight up just died for his daughter without knowing he would be back, oh my dear lord.

And the idea of Seb being seen as a 'Ruffian' and that little mamas boi bitch of a Henry thinking his hand-me-down-riches, muggle ass would be preferable to a powerful wizard. I secretly wished they didn't have to keep magic a secret so Henry could have known just how inferior he was. AND SEB APPARATING SO FAR UMPH the skilllll.

I could go on and on and on, and maybe I will some other time in your inbox when I have another mental breakdown.

And now I'm also almost done with the small sequel. Just taking a break to bombard you with this unhinged message of mine. And how you draw Sebastian is so fucking good. It's actually what got me reading in the first place. I see your version as being in a completely separate universe from the game, cause the way you draw him just has that something, and it's not the same anywhere else. It certainly doesn't help my obsession that my own boyfriend has the same features and colour palette as him, now I think I might even use your art as inspo for next time we need wardrobe additions.

I love you and I hate you.

Ps. Of course I added Sarah Smiles to the playlist and also Far too young to Die, and Just One Yesterday. If you've any other songs you think match please let me knowww~~

BRUHHHHH I ALMOST FEEL NARCISSISTIC FOR POSTING/RESPONDING TO THIS ASK BC ITS JUST PRAISE BUT DAMN THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭😭😭IM HAPPY YOU LIKED IT SO MUCH!! FORGET WRITING YOUR BACHELORS THESIS, TY FOR WRITING A THESIS ON WHY U LOVED MY FIC SO MUCH AND ALL THE LIL THINGS U ENJOYED BAHAHAHA (love the henry slander) im also glad u like how i draw seb too, and i love how thats what made u start reading it in the first place BAHAH but fr, sometimes i try drawing seb more accurately to his ACTUAL appearance and then im like... Who The Hell is this... and it may sound arrogant since im the artist but my seb is MY seb, yknow...its why i dont like drawing him with other mc's romantically. bc even tho its like, oh look, that's Sebastian Sallow™ from the hit game Hogwarts Legacy™! in my style if i draw him with another MC, its like, NO!!! THATS NOT SEBASTIAN SALLOW™, THATS CLORA'S HUSBAND🤺🤺THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING BOI??🤺🤺🤺 LMAOO but rly TY AGAIN💖💖💖 not only for reading but also taking the time to write all this and let me know how much you enjoyed it🥹🥹i (and all writers, really) always love getting stuff like this!! it also brings me back to when i was writing it, especially now that ive been finished with my fic for a few months, listening to u react to all the diff scenes is making me miss it and giving me nostalgia for my own damn fic FRRR😩 also i love that youre making a playlist LMAOO thats how u know the brainrot truly has a hold on you IM SO SORRY🙏🙏 i actually made a seb and clora playlist like last year and its somewhere in my ask tag if you look through that?? but one song that i can recommend off the top of my head (which i almost made their anthem in that OTP chart) is arms tonite by mother mother...whenever i listen to it i cant help but laugh to myself bc its SO perfect for the chap where seb sacrifices himself....YOULL SEE WHEN U LISTEN😇💖