#but then last year was my a level year and around that time I was having a lot of tests

[mischievousmoony]

Omg I love ur James fics. You think you could do one where reader finally feels comfortable getting drunk while going out with their group because she knows James is there to take care of her. Ur drunk reader x James interactions are too cute. I feel like I always have a hard time letting go cause I’m afraid I’ll need to take care of my other friends haha. Love your work!

thank u love! i have fun writing them, i just know james would be so caring! ps thank you for being patient ik this request came in a while ago

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (i think that’s it but lmk if i missed any pls)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"But what if Sirius tries to get a new tattoo again?" you ask, twisting back and forth with a steady squeak, squeak, squeak of your barstool.

James clasps his hand on your shoulder, turning you one last time to face him. "Remus is watching him."

"What if Marlene tries to go on another one of her adventures?"

Marlene has a knack for getting herself into precarious situations when she gets drunk, which she likes to call her “little adventures.” Usually, this means going home with a stranger, whether it’s for a hookup or to steal their lightbulbs because they looked at her wrong.

"Lily’s got her.”

"What if I do something stupid?" you ask, now swinging your legs. The nerves eating away at you just won’t let you sit still.

James puts his other hand on your knee, soothing you with a gentle squeeze. "I'm watching you," he says. After thinking it over for a moment, he adds, “And I don't think you'll do anything stupid. Even if you do, I'll do something more stupid so that nobody notices."

This earns him a giggle from you, and he’s happy to see you smiling. He picks up your glass, which is now covered in beads of water, plenty of time having passed for condensation to run its course. He dries what he can with a napkin because he knows you hate when the droplets land in your lap.

You once asked him why it happened, even though you knew the answer. He simply told you it was science.

“Science is stupid,” you had said, eyes fixating on several small spots of water soaking into your jeans.

Now, James wraps your glasses with napkins. He holds out your drink, a black napkin enveloped around it, as he asks, “You want to do this, right?”

You peek into the glass and watch the dwindling ice cubes swirl around in a vodka cran; a drink that James had called “beginner friendly.”

“Yeah,” you answer shyly.

James frowns. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over. A part of you wants to forget it, but another part of you knows you’d be disappointed in yourself for chickening out again.

You wrap your hand around the glass, cringing at the squish of the soggy napkin beneath your fingertips. You don’t know what’s worse: this feeling or the water dripping all over you. But James’ attempts to help make you feel warm inside, so you don’t complain.

“No, I still want to do this.”

“Then I’m here for you. Promise.” James gives your knee another squeeze.

You cast a look toward your friends. For years, you've nominated yourself as the designated driver. Or you've claimed to have early morning obligations. You've always felt better knowing someone sober was around to deliver plenty of water and carb-rich snacks to your incapacitated friends.

That was your excuse, anyway. Not that it isn't one of your concerns, but truthfully, something about drinking makes you feel uneasy. You always knew your friends were safe because you've been there, ready to hold back anyone's hair or stray them away from bad decisions. If you drank too, how could you be sure your friends would have someone to depend on? How could you be sure you would have someone to depend on?

Then, you started dating James, and you found a level of trust you never knew was possible. You know you can depend on him for anything.

When you admitted to him why you never drink when you go out, he swore up and down that he would be there for you.

Remembering his promise summons a wave of courage. You shoot James a nervous smile, and take your first sip, scrunching your nose as it burns your tongue.

"This is kind of gross."

James barks a laugh, "We can try to find something you'd like better next round. That is, if you decide to have another."

Feeling brave, you do have another. That's when you discovered something called the Cosmic Lemon Fizz; a drink that sparkles with edible glitter and manages to be blue, green, and yellow all at once. You laughed when you saw it, not knowing how in for it you were.

"Jamie!" you exclaim after taking a sip of your third Cosmic Lemon Fizz. "This tastes like happy feels!" you gasp as if the thought had just occurred to you, despite this being the fourth time you tell him.

"I bet it does!" James cheers. His eyes wrinkle in the corners as he beams at you.

"You should try one!" you declare, and immediately try to flag over the bartender.

James smoothly takes your hand, stopping you as he says, "No can do. Made a promise to a pretty girl that I wouldn't have a drop tonight."

You whip your head around. "Who!?" you ask, eyes wide.

"Who do you think, pretty girl," he says, poking you in the side.

Giggles escape you and you swat his hand away. He doesn't go far, lifting his arm to brush some stray hairs out of your face. His hand lingers on the side of your face, soothing the pad of his thumb against your cheek.

You lean into his touch, gazing up at him with an affectionate glaze in your eyes; a look that gives him butterflies.

"Wowww," you say dreamily. "You're handsome."

James feels his heart flip in his chest. "Thank you, love," he says, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Hey," Sirius says, appearing out of nowhere as he lazily throws an arm over your shoulders, "How's it going over here?"

While you're distracted with Sirius, James waves over the bartender and replaces your drink with water. The next time you reach for your glass, you hesitate.

"Where's my cosmo magic fizzy thingy?" you ask, an eyebrow raised as you glance at James.

"You must've finished it," he shrugs, acting clueless.

"That's like the oldest trick in the book. You replaced it with water and now you're trying to be sneaky!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," James feigns innocence.

You giggle, bringing the straw to your lips. "I knew you'd take care of me. I love you," you say, happily sipping your water.

James feels another eye-wrinkling smile break out on his face. "I love you too, pretty girl."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[thetransfemininereview]

Do you have any recommendations for gaining access to these books? I have a pretty long list of ones I want to read but can't afford most of them. The library has the big ones (Whipping Girl, Detransition Baby, Nevada) but the newer or less well known ones have been difficult to find

No this is actually so real though. Let's talk about it.

One of the big problems that I'm trying to address here is the fact that there is a lack of ability for trans books to reach their perhaps core audience, trans people. Over the last few years trans librarians have been trying to increase the number of trans books in circulation, but that's super contingent on where you live. Not to mention the fact that, at least in the US, states are actively trying to criminalize circulating trans books in libraries.

I know Tumblr is allergic to economics a lot of the time, but you've gotta look at the math to understand why this is the current state of things. Essentially it's a vicious cycle. Lots of trans people can't afford to buy a $25 hardcover on a whim, and traditional publishers put a lot of stock into how well a book performs on release, cause that's how they make money. So when the core audience can't afford it and isn't marketable, they register that as a lower demand, which means that fewer trans books get published, fewer end up in libraries, and the cost of an individual book is driven higher. Low demand, high price. Then because the price is high, trans people cant afford the books, and the cycle continues.

It is the dilemma of the transfemme author that most of their core audience is also gonna be transfemme. It's a self-selecting process that's very hard to break out of. And at the end of the day, there just isn't very much money to go around in the trans community because trans people so frequently get cut off from generational wealth. So when you get an ecosystem of transfemmes selling books to other transfemmes who also sell books to them....

I took a class on the Sociology of Art a few years ago, and one of my core takeaways was that the boundaries of a field (yes my teacher liked Bourdieu, come for her ass, not mine) are fundamentally governed by institutions and entities with the money and power to dictate their rules of play. In Althusser's language, you would call those ISAs (Ideological State Apparatuses). When you read Weber, he talks about how culture needs to have some level of social legitimation in order to become a force of power in the world (I butchered that but it's the gist lol). And it's like.

The people who have the money to read the books dictate which books receive the money. Organizations like Lambda Literary, presses, big name publishers, etc. One of the big problems in the field of trans literature up to this point is that the only people who've had the money to produce social legitimation from the organizing schema/matrix of an ISA have also only chosen to read a very small slice of the extant literature. Then, because those non-profits and presses and companies only champion a small selection of books, that in turn dictates for those who have less money which of those books deserve social attention, critical acclaim, sales, library slots, etc.

And like, all of that is an illusion, but it produces a material reality for the transfemme author. It dictates the material conditions for the reproduction of said literature and who can participate in it.

So, what's to be done about it?

"Buzz" is a big deal in the publishing industry. A good review, an award, a thinkpiece - all of that can be the difference between a successful book and a flop. Publishers look for that. If nobody talks about a book and it doesn't sell well, they'll drop the author faster than you can say Susan. Again, vicious cycle. But like, at the end of the day, a "field," an "ISA," a "legitimated" work of art, that's all just a class prerogative. The different between a Very Important Literary Blog and a "person talking about books on the internet" is money. Like. It's just money. The reality of it is really banal.

It's who has the money to read books. It's who has the money and time to write about books. It's who has the money to gain institutional access to book. It's who has the money to read enough to say, "Oh, well that might seem true, but if you look at X, Y, and Z it's clearly not." It takes money to fact check. It takes money to challenge institutional myths. It takes money because when an institution makes a claim about a book and none of the people who care enough to argue with them have the cash to challenge it, the claim tends to stand.

And like, the honest truth is that between the books, the website, and the education, I've spent a lot of money bringing this website online in the form you're reading it in. A lot of the books I've read were really fucking expensive. I grew up in a wealthy family, my parents were accepting. They have both the means and the desire to support my passion projects. I'm lucky.

The goal of The Transfeminine Review is to create at least one independently trans-run website that can challenge that brand of institutional legitimation work from non-profits and big publishers and cis outlets, a website that can actually highlight transfeminine literature as it exists in the world, not as the Big 5 publishers have dictated it. Topside, Metonymy, Arsenal Pulp, LittlePuss, etc. They've all taken on that challenge from the angle of producing books, but there hasn't been a corollary trans secondary ecosystem dedicated to documenting and critiquing them. Or there is, but it's extremely diffuse and hard to find if you don't know exactly what you're looking for. Then there are the general queer outlets, like them. and whatnot, and they do their best but literature is a side hustle at best. There's the queer-helmed literary outlets like Electric Lit (shout out Denne Michele Norris) but they spend most of their time talking about cis authors. None of it is designed to help or review self-published literature from poor authors, and let's be frank, most transfeminine publishing is still done indie or self.

It's an investment, essentially. On the longshot, the hope is that this website will inspire others to do similar work, and that eventually through the collective efforts of trans authors and their readership, we can begin to change the math on trans publishing and help to spread it to a wider audience.

Now.

None of this changes the current reality that trans lit is expensive.

Unless you're lucky, you're probably not gonna find much trans lit at the local library even if you dig for it. Another good place to find free trans books is transreads.org, but their selection is mostly non-fiction, and the fiction is, again, largely the same few books you can find elsewhere. Another good online queer library is https://www.queerliberationlibrary.org/, which might be a good place to look (shoutout to Skye for bringing it to my attention!)

There are a couple of cheaper places to find trans books. If you shop around on itch.io, a lot of self-published trans authors have "name your price" models, which can be more accessible. Creators on itch will also bundle their work on a fairly regular basis, so you can get like 10-20 books for $10, which is, by my token, an excellent price.

If there's a particular author you're interested in, a lot of self-pub trans authors have Patreon accounts where they serialize their novels. You also can find serial (pre-edit) versions of a bunch of books on Scribblehub.

This has gotten steadily less affordable over the last few years cause Amazon is evil, but Kindle Unlimited ($11.99 a month, but there's a free trial) has thousands of trans books. Most of them are erotica, but like, there are a lot of hidden gems in there, and if you're a voracious enough reader, then it'll definitely be much cheaper per book than buying trad.

The problem with all of these, though, is that they tend to favor specific genres and tropes. Like there's only so much variety on itch.io or Scribblehub or transreads.org or KU. So if you like the genre conventions, then awesome! But if you don't it's probably not for you.

And none of it will give you access to some of the rare older tradpub books or the new but scarce releases that I've been going through unless you're willing to pay the full price for them.

I wish I had a better answer, but that's unfortunately the current state of the industry :/

Hopefully this ramble is helpful.

Beth

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 90)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (68) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (23)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((3.4k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter bi-weekly, every Thursday and Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

YFN POV

“For someone so independent, you’re very needy,” Jordan chuckled.

YFN pouted, looking at her watch again. “They’ve been gone all fucking day. Surely that’s a bad thing?”

The slightly smaller woman shrugged. “Not necessarily. I mean, what if they’re just tying everything up with a pretty bow to make sure that it’s all sorted today? With both Lucy and Leah speaking, and then our testimonials, along with Ridley and Alexia, and your injury report, surely that’s enough to have Kristie locked up for the foreseeable future.”

Kristie. She never wanted to hear that name again. Lucy had no intention of letting her be in the same room as her, and Leah had offered to go as a character witness, knowing that her fame would make them realise how important of a case it was.

Jordan reached out and squeezed her hand. “It should be an open and shut case. Especially seeing as you didn’t want to go for the harshest punishment.”

“I just didn’t want her doing it to anyone else. She needed to know it was wrong.”

“Some jail time and community service will definitely get the message across.”

“And restraining orders…” she murmured. That had been Lucy’s non-negotiable.

“Leah there is going to throw a spanner in the works too. Her platform is massive. No one in their right mind will want her publicly speaking about how Kristie got away with her friends being stalked and then assaulted to the point of this.”

She gestured to YFN sitting up in the hospital bed.

She squeezed her hand. “Thanks for being here, Dory.”

Jordan’s little smile took over from her serious, friend look. “Of course, mate. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

A few minutes later Lucy’s doctor returned, or rather, her doctor too.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” he said as he stood next to her bed with a gentle smile. He was one of those men that you were always comfortable around. The benevolent type. “The scans are good - better than I expected given your… history.” Another smile, though this one was sympathetic. “Would you like the good news or the very good news first?”

She felt herself let go of tension she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

“Save the best for last.”

“Very well.” He put the scans up on the light box and pointed to her collarbone. “The second surgery went well. The screws are holding, though I’m afraid I need you in the sling to keep it immobile for the next 4 weeks or so..”

She sighed, though knew it was the case. Her Christmas was officially in a sling.

He continued. “Unless there’s an incident, or any issues with pain, I won’t need to give it a check-up until just prior to Christmas, and then I’m hoping to have you out of it for the new year.”

She smiled and nodded. “Well, that’s positive…”

He moved onto the next two x-rays. “Your forearm and wrist are healing well, though I’m afraid the cast will need to remain on for the next 6-8 weeks. We’ll give you a check-up when we get rid of the sling. Your jaw is also healing nicely, I know the bruising has been persistent, but expect it to be gone in the next week or so..”

“I can handle the cast,” she chuckled. “My shoulder is just in need of a good movement.”

She’d just wanted to swing her arm around, to roll her shoulder, instead of having it stuck where it was. It was a level of frustrating that bordered on pain.

“There are a few small massages that you can do to help, though you’ll need to be quite gentle with them, and careful not to shift your collarbone too much.”

He handed her a sheet with the exercises.

“Lucy can help with these. Any issues, give me a call.”

“Thank you,” she replied, gratefully. She was always grateful at the opportunity for Lucy to touch her more.

Jordan took the sheet interestedly and looked over it.

“Now onto your ribs. They’ve been thrown around a bit…” he looked at her with eyebrows raised and she blushed, knowing full well that she’d been abusing them a little too much with Lucy. “…which I understand.” He was politely giving her an out. “You already had several past injuries and you’re very limited with your movements given your state, and so it’s understandable that your ribs are catching the brunt of it. Though, you’ll need to be more mindful. No overexertion. No twisting yourself. No…excessive movements.”

To his credit, he did seem entertained by it.

“I think you should call Lucy and tell her that directly,” Jordan joked.

YFN’s mouth dropped open, though he and Jordan shared a good chuckle at her expense. She made a mental note to not tell Lucy so that she didn’t lose any part of her sex life.

“Now onto your kneecap…”

She braced herself for bad news, but how could it be, when he’d said the worst of it first?

“It was only ever a minor crack, however I wanted you to keep your full weight off of it as you can’t exactly use crutches. I’m going to keep the brace on, however you can walk on it again.”

She grinned – her first thought being that Lucy was going to be so happy. She could picture her face lighting up now.

“Now don’t overdo it. Don’t put all of your weight onto it at once. Place your foot on the ground and ease your weight onto it. It’s a slow process, but you need to build that habit up so you’re not overdoing it. The brace will be on for another few weeks, and I’m hoping to take it off just before Christmas.”

No brace for Christmas. Lucy was going to be thrilled.

“Hoping…” he said again, making sure she understood that it was only a possibility at this stage. “…and you can take the brace off for showers now, just don’t put all of your weight on it in the shower.”

No more garbage bags. She nodded. “Thanks, Doc.”

They finished up with him, getting her scripts for medication and some more information. Lucy, ever the anatomy fanatic, would want to know every detail possible. Especially because it was her.

She walked slowly to the car, relished the feel of being able to use her legs like legs again. She was officially The Little Mermaid.

She groaned the relief for her hips and lower back as she did so, knowing this would take a lot of strain from Lucy needing to carry her around.

She slipped into Miles, Lucy’s car, and Jordan slipped into the driver’s seat. The footballers had taken Leah’s Mercedes as it was lower to get into and Lucy hadn’t wanted her dropping into the seat and struggling to get out.

It was later in the afternoon now, and she looked at the time, wondering why it was all taking so long.

“Celebration dinner?” Jordan asked.

“Why do I feel like you all had this planned already?”

“Maybe. You know Lucy…”

“Has she messaged you?!” She looked over at Jordan who seemed to barely be able to see over the steering wheel. She gave a sympathetic smile. “No, sorry. But the table is still booked, so maybe we should see if they make it? I would suggest Katie and Caitlin but they’re not in town. Most of the girls are with their international squads. We can ask Alex but Jill is in Manchester. There’s a few other’s in town.. LJ and Keira, maybe?”

“Oh, that’s an idea!”

Jordan gave them both a call. LJ wasn’t available, however Keira and Georgia were. They met them at the Italian restaurant Lucy had booked and made a night of it. The girls joked about how they’d be in trouble if they were caught eating carbs when they were in season, though YFN had convinced them that they’d deserved it after their hard fought victory over the Netherlands. The more she got to know Keira, the more she got along with her. She opened up slowly, though at the end of the day, they both thought similarly, and had a similar sense of humour.

It was also one of the first times she’d been close and in intimate conversation with Georgia since she’d caught the first kiss between her and Lucy. They spoke about the game, Scotland, how much they needed to win by, Lumos and the interviews. The three footballers had a good catch up now that they all played for different teams, and they saw less of Jordan.

The two opted to skip dessert as they’d apparently already been too bad, though once they saw Jordan and YFN’s desserts, they couldn’t help but try a taste.

When their dinner was ending, she checked her phone and her stomach sank.

“Still nothing?” Jordan asked, seeing her reaction.

She gave a sigh. “No. You?”

She shook her head.

“Doesn’t usually take this long, surely?” Georgia asked. “What, are they hand delivering her to jail?”

“There must be a good reason…” Keira comforted. “Either way, we have time to do the interview if you want?”

They were being efficient, with Keira offering at dinner to come over and do the couch interview that YFN had suggested was best to ease the ‘Wonze’ fanatics of the internet. She still didn’t know Keira well, though she could see that she’d offered partly because not only did she want to get it over and done with, as she hated interviews, but she knew YFN needed a distraction from the current legal situation that Lucy and Leah were tied up in. She called Bridget and Emily to see if they were available last minute for the interview. They were more than eager, as she knew they would be, though still offered them extra pay for the inconvenience.

After dinner, they made their way to Lucy’s and settled in, Bridget and Emily setting up for the interview while she ran through queries with Keira prior to it.

“Did you read the questions and prompts I sent..?”

She hadn’t expected her to, as the interview wasn’t supposed to take place until later in the month, however things seemed to be working this way for her for some reason.

Keira nodded, asking questions and YFN couldn’t help but be impressed at her eye for detail.

She’d said that Jordan and Georgia didn’t have to stay, but they’d insisted, wanting to catch up on lost time.

The interview went for just over an hour, though it was exactly what she’d wanted. Keira had not been tense at all, and she was proud of herself for creating such an environment. To be fair, she even felt like she’d flirted with her a little, which had surprised the Australian. She’d never seen an interview with Keira so comfortable before. Hopefully that would suppress the ‘Wonze’ fanatics who’d been sending her so much hate on social media.

Keira took photos for their interview, while she answered Georgia’s questions about the content process. She had very little content outside of the Lionesses as she played at Bayern Munich and they weren’t exactly known for their social media. They didn’t have time for another interview that night as the girls had training the next day before flying out to Scotland, and needed to get rest.

They all left, though Jordan stayed with her. She looked at her watch as they walked out of the door. 8pm. She hadn’t heard from Lucy since 7am.

She sighed, dropping her hand in defeat. Jordan gave her a cuddle. “They’ll be home soon..”

She cuddled into her friend, allowing herself to relax when her phone buzzed. She jumped immediately and grimaced at the pain that shot through her body as she grabbed for her phone.

Joe calling…

At this time of night?

“Hey, Joe,” she answered, feeling awkward calling her that.

“Hello, YFN. How are you?” Her voice sounded as soft and regally calm as ever. It was comforting to her.

“I’m doing well. It’s late – is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes. I was calling to check in on the hearing today. Did it go well?”

She wondered if she’d used any of her influence to help the situation. Her voice suggested that perhaps she had, though just a little.

“Luce and Leah aren’t home yet. They’ve been gone for over 13 hours.”

“I see. It’s not unusual, though. I’d like an update when they’re done, please. I need to make sure this is all wrapped up so that you’re safe.”

Seeing as you don’t want the security team I offered, she could practically hear her saying. Catherine was worried about her, which made her feel loved. She’d never had that from a mother figure beyond her grandma. Her heart softened.

“Thank you…” she said, gratefully. “I’ll let you know when I know. Also, I had a check up today. Everything is healing well, and I can now walk, albeit gently.”

“I read the report you sent through,” YFN could hear the smile in her voice. “I was very happy to read that. Hopefully you can be moving a bit more freely by the new year.”

“Fingers crossed!”

She gave a light laugh. “Mine certainly are. Now, I was thinking about the Gala event this week that Lucy and Alessia are doing this week. We’re a bit on the back foot with everything since there’s so much going on, however I was hoping that the timing will work out to have our own Lumos event this week, on Friday or Saturday perhaps. Do you think we could get any high profile players in that time?”

“How many were you thinking?”

“Ten maximum. I don’t want the focus to be lost if there are too many.”

“Well, Lucy will be with me for a little before headed back to Barca. Most girls will be back with their teams by then. I think I can get Jordan Nobbs, Leah Williamson, potentially any players from the WSL, and also perhaps… perhaps…”

“Perhaps?”

She pondered. “Perhaps… Alexia. That’s a big maybe, though.”

“Alexia would be the white whale, if we could get her on. Otherwise, it sounds great. Perhaps some other nationalities too, if you can?”

“Coaches too?” She asked, trying to think who would be available at a moment’s notice. “I could ask Sarina. Emma. I could get Caitlin for Australia, Katie for Ireland, Yui for Japan, Ashley for Canada, or similar if they're not available?”

“Brilliant. I do hate to drop this on you last minute, though I have been wanting to get it done before the rush prior to Christmas. If you could look through availability and give me a date and names, I’ll work on booking a location for Friday or Saturday so we can start promoting it.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you, YFN. About tomorrow night, I have a location to meet. I’m assuming Lucy will be coming also?”

“I think Leah and Jordan have a right to be there too.”

She could practically hear her nodding. “I’ve sent the location and time to Mark. I have an aircraft departing at night for you. I’ll put you all on the manifest. You may need to clear it with the Lioness management.”

“Leah will handle that…”

“Perfect. I’ll send you the flight details.”

“Cath-” She cut herself off. “Are you sure about this?”

“There’s only so much hiding I can do. This is an unnecessary evil, unfortunately. You’ve been through too much already. I won’t have you fighting him too. I’m hoping to finish this once and for all with him tomorrow night, though from then on, my intention is still to be the silent partner while you are the face of Lumos. Has anything changed for you in regards to that?”

The empathy in her voice had YFN feeling comfortable. Comfortable enough that she could have said no, and Catherine would have accepted it without question.

“Nothing has changed on my end. I’m just very eager to get us onto a schedule where I’m not chasing my tail with interviews and events.” She chuckled. Catherine shared in her chuckle.

“Oh, I know. I’ve been hoping the exact same. It’s good to hear we’re on the same page, though. We’ll speak more tomorrow night. Until then – keep me posted on the hearing and anything you need at all, let me know.”

YFN and Jordan fell asleep on the couch, their feet overlapping under the blanket they shared as their heads were at opposite ends. She wasn’t sure how long she slept for, however she was woken by a warm kiss to the cheek and Lucy’s deep, comforting voice. “I’m here, little one. Everything’s okay.”

“Luce?” She mumbled, half asleep. She opened one eye, followed drearily by the other as she looked at her favourite person. Her expression was peaceful, which calmed the Australian.

She looked down at Jordan who was sitting up with Leah next to her, the two talking quietly. She looked back at Lucy.

“What happened?”

“It’s done, little one.”

She tried to prop herself up, and Lucy helped her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist to pull her up into a sitting position. “It took that long?”

“The incident happened in Spain, so we were delayed due to that, however someone pulled some strings for us.” Catherine. Lucy gave her a knowing look. “Without her, this would have been dragged out for weeks.”

“It’s done?”

She nodded as she reached out to stroke the yellowing bruises on her jaw. “Jail time for a period. Community service for the rest, as you didn’t want her to be stuck in there for the maximum time. Restraining orders for life. She won’t be attending any games in the future. And she apologised. It’s done.”

“She…apologised?”

“Mainly to me, but yes. She cried a lot.”

“That must have been hard…”

“Yes and no. I don’t like seeing someone upset, but she did hurt the person I love so… my empathy was not there for her. I’m just happy it’s all over.” She leant forward and gave her a soft kiss on the temple. “What did you two get up to, love?”

“We had dinner with Keira and Georgia,” Jordan said from across the couch.

Leah gave YFN a smile. She looked tired.

Lucy was caught off guard. “Oh?”

“It was great,” she reassured, putting her hand under the collar of her shirt, and on that strong collarbone of hers. “I did my couch interview with Keira after it.”

Lucy looked impressed, though like she had questions for when they were alone. She didn’t blame her.

“And?” Jordan prompted.

“Oh! And Lumos wants to host a public event with 10 female footballers in London this Friday or Saturday. Are you all free?”

“You know I am,” Lucy murmured, leaning her head against hers.

“I’ll be in town.” Leah answered.

“You already know I’m in.” Jordan agreed, looking at Leah. YFN hadn’t realised until just then that it must have been a while since they’d done something like that together in public.

“And I messaged Riddles, hoping to get Alexia if she’s back in town…”

“Mmn. I’m sure it’ll all be perfect. You’re good at the last minute organising,” Lucy teased.

She rolled her eyes. “And whose fault is that?”

She gave an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I do wonder how the doctor went today? I have an email titled: ‘No funny business.’”

Jordan cackled. Actually cackled. YFN blushed, a little embarrassed and frustrated that she had to tell her. Lucy didn’t understand. Bless her, she was incredibly smart, though a lot less quick for these types of situations.

“Everything is healing well apart from my…ah…ribs. They’ve not been having the rest they should.”

“I believe he said they’ve been ‘thrown around a bit’…” Jordan offered.

Lucy clicked and gave a guilty look. Before she could speak, YFN jumped in, trying to distract her with ten different things to keep her mind away from limiting sex with her.

“But everything else is healing well… hoping to be out of the sling by the new year and the knee brace by Christmas. Also, I can officially walk.” She gave a proud smile. “No more looking for the wheelchair in Scotland, Luce. I’ll be the one-armed flamingo with the Australian flag.”

[pekoehoneyncream]

Captain John 'Bravo Six' Price Headcanons

Part One!

Words: 500~

TW: None (sfw)

Okay! Here are the promised headcanons!

The brainrot is intense for these boys rn, so the volume of headcanons kinda got outta hand. I didn't wanna slam y'all with the full 879 words of headcanons that I've made for Price alone, so I decided that I'll post half now and half later.

That said, Thank you all again for the Huge response my poll got, and without further ado onto the The Headcanons!

His preferred drink is Green Tea with a spoonful of honey. He loves getting to sit, relax, and slowly sip his way through a nice hot cup of tea. If he’s in a rush or just needs to wake up he drinks coffee instead.

Takes his coffee with the smallest bit of sugar and no milk. His team argues that three grains of sugar can't make any difference, but Price insists that he doesn't like coffee straight black, he needs that bit of sweetness. The team once tested him by switching out his coffee for an identical cup of straight black coffee. Price's disgusted spluttering showed them that he can indeed easily taste the difference.

Cannot just sit down and do nothing. Always needs to be doing something. This man is a category five putterer. Just goes about absently neatening up, putting things back where they belong, pulling books forward to be level with the edge of the shelf, squaring papers with the corner of the table, wiping down the surfaces, adjusting his kit so it’s settled properly. He’ll do the same to the team as well. Mindlessly untwisting straps, pulling tight buckles, zipping pouches, pulling down the rucked-up hem of Ghost’s mask, straightening Gaz’s cap, correcting a stray hair in Soap’s warhawk.

The absolute worst at remembering names, constantly asking the team what this or that person's name is. Has a little notebook full of reminders that are only useful to him, the privates and FNGs think he's marking down performance notes, but he's just desperately trying to remember that one rookie's name before they leave eyesight. “Price, this just says ‘Michaels - Red Hat’, do you expect him to always wear a red hat?” “No, but I remember the hat, then I remember the face that was wearing the hat, and that face is Michaels'.” “Price, that makes no sense.” “Give that back and get. Have you nothing better to do? Go on, get!”

Paints his nails. He got a voucher for a free spa day as a birthday present one year, it included hot-rock therapy, mud-baths, a massage, and a mani-pedi. He went into it with a ‘fuck it, when in rome’ mentality and just said yes to everything while he was there. They explained that gel-polish is hardier and longer lasting than regular polish, without being super hard to remove like acrylics, so he went with gel-polish. At the time he just got a clear polish, but these days he does it himself and wears whatever colours he wants to. Has his own polishes and his own little uv lamp and everything. He could die on a mission tomorrow, he doesn't have time for your small minded ideas about masculinity. Before he was Captain of the 141, he actually got written up by a superior, not for wearing polish, but for wearing a nail-polish colour that wasn't a colour that's in regulation.

Loves water. Yes in the staying hydrated sense, but mainly in the swimming sense. He grew up with a creek behind his house and he spent every spare moment he could splashing around in it. To this day his favourite place is the beach, or anywhere with a body of water. A swimming pool is a poor replacement in his opinion, but he'll take what he can get.

Constantly loses track of time in the shower, his personal water bill is consistently exorbitant. When he doesn't have time to spare he sets a timer, when it beeps at 5 minutes it reminds him he needs to actually start washing up, and when it goes off at 10 minutes he forces himself to get out. When he has the time he sets the timer for 30 minutes.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you have any thoughts on the headcanons or ideas you'd like me expand on or things you wanna squeal about or prompts you want me to write PLEASE hit me up! My ask box is open 24/7 and I'd love to hear from you!

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[celtigxr]

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. x: What a Pity

Chapter Summary: Helaena tells Valeana something she doesn't want to hear. And Floris tells Aemond something that he does.

Word count: 3979

Sneak Peak: “I once saw him watch her from the courtyard as she was walking past the second floor balconies. He couldn’t take his eyes off her!” 

Warnings: I'm sorry, y'all are gonna still hate Aemond a little bit longer 😬 don't shoot me. *Fatphobia (forgot to put this in earlier)

T H E   R E D S

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Valeana couldn’t remember all the details of the events of the previous night. She knew what had occurred, but her sense of time was off. She didn’t remember how she got to Aegon’s chambers; her first memory was his hands grounding her and his voice pulling her back from the fog. Of all people, Aegon Targaryen was the last person she would have believed to have done that for her. 

Helaena was pulled from her bed, and with a surprising amount of clarity and consciousness, took the reins from her brother. Helaena was gentle as she took Valeana to her bed, tucked her in, and even got her lavender tea. The rest of the night, the princess spent combing through her hair until they both fell asleep. 

It would have probably saved Val a headache had she insisted on being brought back to her bedchambers, but ultimately it was probably the best she remained with Helaena. It was the most peaceful, dreamless sleep she had in a while. Instead of waking up to Shyla’s repetitive singing, or Floris’ shrill yelling for her to get out of bed, it was Helaena’s gentle hums as she plaited her hair, the distant chirps of birds outside and crickets in miniature cages.

Her empty bed sent a wave of panic for her family, which quickly was nipped in the bud when she arrived before their first meal with the princess. Helaena helped her explain what happened, gently, and with very few details and small truths. Valeana confessed she had fallen and it had triggered something in her mind, but she didn’t evoke Aemond’s name, nor had she told them it was Aegon who had found her. Helaena told them that she did, and then brought her back to her quarters, because it was closer. 

“I understand her mind,” the princess told Lord Bartimos. “It is similar to my own. I knew how to take care of her.”

Bartimos and Ursula thanked her from the bottom of their hearts, and Helaena simply nodded and told them it was her pleasure. She didn’t leave as Valeana’s family fretted over her; she sat patiently, head tilted with a gentle smile upon her soft face. 

Valeana’s father fretted over her leg, making sure she wasn’t wounded, then started to make arrangements for a raven to be sent back to Claw Isle to commission a new prosthetic to be promptly made. One made of sturdier wood, with stronger joints and sculpted more elegantly. Clement simply took his sister’s shoulders in his hands and leveled his eyes with hers, asking in earnest if she was truly well. She nodded stiffly, and while he did not truly believe it, he accepted her answer. Shyla’s face was white with concern, and she paced around the room berating herself for not realizing her sister was gone sooner.

“I should have known! No snoring! Oh, how sound a sleep I was…”

Ursula caged her in her arms, hand running through the crown of Valeana’s head as she pressed her cheek to her breast. Her eyes were dewy with worry and the knowledge that she was not there for her. While not her birth mother, Ursula had assumed the duty of being Valeana and Clement’s mother like she was born to do it. It had pained her almost as much as Bartimos when she learned what happened to her through a raven, and it was torturous watching Valeana allow herself to waste away in her room for all those years. 

Then there was Arthor, who lingered in the archway that separated his shared bed chambers with his brother. He remained silent, like an observing crow on a lamppost. Floris was just as quiet, but she was a simmering pot of water in the corner. Her frown aged her, putting lines at the corner of her lips and around her eyes and between her furrowed brow. Her unblinking leer was glued onto her step sister and her mother. 

Her mother.

And Heleana watched her. She watched how her lips disappeared under her teeth, and her fingers stiffly curled into her gown, reminding Helaena of the twitching legs of black widow spiders. 

When Bartimos insisted on having Valeana shadow him that day, to keep an eye on her, Helaena sat straight and asked if she could accompany her instead. Bartimos couldn’t deny the princess of the realm, and Val mouthed words of gratitude towards her. 

The two girls ended up between the protective roots of the Heart Tree in the Godswood. Helaena sat cross legged as she examined a fat green caterpillar that was devouring the tomato in her hand. Valeana was on the other side of a large root, laying flat on her black, her legs crossed at the ankles and her arms behind her head as she stared up at the crooked and bent branches of the the weirwood tree, and how the sun shone through the leaves, creating splotches of red shadows that coloured everything beneath it. 

“This is the one thing I truly missed about King’s Landing,” Valeana spoke, breaking the prolonged comfortable silence they had built. “We don’t have a godswood at Claw Isle, and no weirwoods.”

Helaena hummed, eyes still glued onto the little creature in her hand, “It misses you too, the tree.”

Val craned her neck to look at the princess, allowing a brief pause before she asked: “How do you know?”

“I just do,” the answer came immediately, almost like she had answered that question millions of times before. “I don’t know how I know… I just know things. They come to me in odd ways. Like last night, I dreamt I was running down the corridor outside our apartments, crying in pain. Then I woke up, and Aegon was there telling me that it was you who was running in the corridors in pain.” Helaena pulled her attention away from the caterpillar and regarded Valeana with a neutral stare. “I am sorry for what happened, Valeana. But you must know it was a mistake.”

Val remained on the ground, staring at the princess with a furrow in her brow. She understood why others thought Helaena was mad; she said many things that made little sense. But she was kind-hearted, soft, and Val severely doubted that she would make up stories in order to make herself look mysterious and wise. Even without evidence, Valeana believed her. And without context, Valeana understood who she was referring to. 

But accepting her words was still difficult to swallow. 

“He hates me,” Val stated in a small voice.

“He wants your forgiveness.”

Valeana sat up straight, hands migrating to grip the roots that embrace her body, “He attempted once at the request of the King, and since then he has been nothing but vile to me, and at best he has avoided me, Helaena. If this is his way of vying for my forgiveness, he has a queer way of doing things.”

Helaena doesn’t answer right away, instead she directs her attention back to the tomato in her hand, now a quarter of the way eaten by the finger-sized caterpillar. 

“I know my brothers quite well. Better than they know themselves,” She brought the fruit up to her eye level as she examined the insect’s mouth. “Aemond will never listen to his heart, no matter how much it screams at him. He will shut down before he allows it to win over his mind, because he sees it as a weakness. I had to witness him abandon his heart after what he had done to you back then. The same thing happened again last night.” 

Valeana just stared at her, a lump in her throat and tears glossing her eyes. Her initial fall and her friendship with Aemond was a topic she wished never to think about. For years, it plagued both her mind and heart, sending her into a spiral of darkness that she did not believe she would be able to free herself from. When she got better – when she started to walk – she found that hobbies and work were the best distractions. Keeping her mind busy with other pursuits left no room for Aemond. Eventually she’ll hear his name from a neighbouring conversation and realize she hadn’t thought about it in moons. 

Though all that effort came crumbling down the moment the King’s invitation arrived, and now Valeana had to come to the painful realization that the wound had never actually healed. The betrayal was still fresh, the heartache still there like a crater formed from a violent earthquake. She had tried to mask it through veiled indifference and avoidance, but there he was, reminding her of how much he dislikes her at every turn. Continuously validating her every insecurity, and forcing her to armour herself in hatred for him. 

But the truth… the agonizing truth of it was…

Valeana could never hate him. Not her Aemond; not the boy who had held her hand while they scaled down steep hills, or bandaged her bleeding fingers from needle pricks, or surprised her with gifts and treats in complete spontaneity. No, she loved that Aemond. She mourned for that Aemond. 

As if she could read Val’s thoughts, Helaena broke the silence, “You miss him, I can see it. Your Aemond is still here… He’s the same boy you loved, Valeana. Just older, more scarred, and hidden away.”

Valeana shook her head and quickly wiped a stray tear that escaped and rolled down to her chin, “He’s not the same, Helaena. We’re not the same. I–I do…I do miss him. I miss our friendship, but–” She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head again before directing her eyes onto her laced fingers. Val pulled her knees up to rest her chin on them, “He’s too far away, I do not think I could reach him. Mistake or no, his actions last night was a clear enough display of how much he desires to push me away from him… Like a bad memory.” 

“Valeana…” Helaena’s tone of voice sounded almost reprimanding, even in its softness. “You’ve pushed him away the moment he spoke to you.”

“You do not need to make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Val squeezed her eyes shut at the sour memory of their first meal reunited. It felt like so long ago. Now she felt embarrassed by herself and how sour and vindictive she was from day one. It was a bitter tonic to swallow, to realize that had she been civil on that first day, all of this would not have happened. Had she taken Aemond’s olive branch —had she been the better person, instead of consumed by resentment— they might have at least found some sort of cordial co-existence, and perhaps one day they could renew their friendship. While her childhood heartbreak was difficult to forget, she always knew in the deepest pit of her chest that she still longed for him. She wanted nothing more than to feel his hand in hers again. 

Valeana took in a shockingly sharp inhale, “Fuck.” 

She hated having to admit that she was wrong. She hated even more having to admit to herself that she still loved Aemond Targaryen. 

Helaena’s hand found her shoulder, “You know what you have to do.”

She does… But somehow she doubts that it will fix anything. How could she ever get him to open up to her, when his pride and resolve was made out of Valyrian steel? 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Floris Grafton was a woman with simple tastes. She was content with floating around the Holdfast or the gardens, conversing with other ladies of the court. Floris loved gossip, or rather craved it more like. She missed King’s Landing purely for the gossip she would overhear the court ladies say when she was a child. Claw Isle was dull when it came to juicy morsels for her to sink her teeth into. In the past there weren’t many young ladies at the Keep outside her own sisters, so Floris sought out the company of the adult women of the court during her childhood. Sure, she spent many an afternoon chasing after the four princes, but during the moments when they were at the Dragon Pit or training or doing what boys do, Floris much preferred sitting with the adults. 

Her presence was often a nuisance to them, since they couldn’t speak on topics not appropriate for youthful ears, but Floris would refuse to leave. With her own mother at Claw Isle for moons at a time, she desperately sought the companionship of the other mothers of court, especially the Queen. When it came to the crown princess, Rhaenyra, she did not have as much of a close relationship as she would have liked. The heir seemed far more aware of her uninvited presence and wanted her away from adult conversations. 

But then Rhaenyra preferred Valeana’s company. Floris bristled at the memory. The Princess always loved her sister’s chubby cheeks and loved to plait her thick ivory hair. Everyone loved Valeana more than her… even her own mother. 

Floris’ face twisted hideously at this thought. She was lucky that the Royal Sept was near empty when she entered it, because Floris was not hiding her expressions in the slightest.

She knelt down in front of an altar filled with melted candles, the image of the Maiden hovering above her. Instead of prayers, she muttered curses and heated insults. She took a match, lit it with the nearest candle and lit another with it, in her own name. 

When Floris left, she did not feel any sense of relief. Her prayers to the Maiden were riddled with sour thoughts and imaginings of Valeana’s hair cut all off, or her peachy stomach bursting out from a tight corset. Generally, these intrusive thoughts were infrequent, but it had picked up a considerable amount when they returned to King’s Landing. Praying to the Maiden and the Mother was her only moment to keep her peace of mind; she would pray for her success in finding a marriage, for love and beauty and all things an unmarried lady longs for. Though that day was different… Her spoiled, attention-seeking step sister just had to occupy more space in her mind. 

Floris gripped her burgundy gown in a vice as she descended down the Serpentine Steps that lead to the lower courtyard. Her head was bowed, watching her feet and trying to keep her step sure footed whilst having fake conversations in her mind. That was her unspoken hobby; she always thought of conversations that never existed, or possibly could exist, where everything she said was witty and unchallenged. Many of them focused on her taking Valeana off her high horse, or putting her parents in their place, or being the center of a party where everyone was hanging off her word as if she spoke the gospel of the Gods. 

She very nearly lost herself in her little day dream, but with the sound of footsteps climbing up the stairs her attention was pulled back to reality. Pausing at the half landing, Floris took the moment to curtsey when Prince Aemond crossed her path. 

“My Prince,” she spoke demurely, but her forehead was still stitched with the annoyances of that morn. She seldom crossed paths with Aemond, so she wasted no time in pulling him in small talk. “How is your day fairing?” 

He gives her a curt nod, barely sparing her a look, “Lady Floris. It is fairing as much as any day.”

Her head tilted at the tone he used. She knew Aemond to be a stoic and serious prince, but his voice was always levelled and composed. Now she could hear a hint of frustration in the graininess coming from the back of his throat, much like a growl. 

Floris may be a woman of simple tastes, but she was not simple minded. She was quite intelligent, quite cunning, a skill she seemed to always have but didn’t realize and appreciate until she was a woman grown. She knew she was not a beauty, but her mind more than made up for it. 

“Oh dear,” she said carefully, eyes examining the stiff muscles of his face. “I hope it is not bold of me to ask, my Prince, but does something weigh on your mind?” 

She was treading murky waters, she knew, but the gears behind her eyes were working diligently, meticulously, as she watched Aemond closely. Aemond, the one who maimed her step sister; Aemond, who extended the first branch of peace on their first day, who was promptly rejected foolishly by the same step sister. The greatest point of tension in the Red Keep was the broken and strained relationship between Valeana Celtigar and Prince Aemond. While not much had not happened in the last sinnight, the whispers were hard to ignore. 

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive him? Poor dear, I just see him every day drowning in distractions ever since they got here.”  “I once saw him watch her from the courtyard as she was walking past the second floor balconies. He couldn’t take his eyes off her!”  “Neither can Prince Aegon!” “Oh, oh, don’t get me started on that!” “I heard from Lady Perra, who heard from her maid, that she spotted Prince Aegon pull Valeana into a closet with him!” “No! The Scandal! Surely that can’t be true!”  “That must be what that whole show was about in the training yard. My boy was training there that day, and saw the whole thing! They were at each other’s throats. Men only fight that way over the hand of a woman.” “Oh, to be desired by not one, but two Targaryen Princes! What a lucky young lady.”

Oh, what a lucky young lady indeed. Valeana doesn’t even wish to be married, let alone married to a bloody Targaryen prince. And why in all the Realm would they both hold interest in her? Her step sister might have lost 5 stone, but she was still fat. She did well covering it up with all those skirt layers and stiff bodices, but Floris knew what she looked like underneath it all. She was one of the few who did. Large thighs and a pouch stomach that reminded her of an apron, and her heavy breasts and soft biceps were striped with stretch marks. No, her step sister did not have the body of the Maiden. What a disappointment her future betrothed will have once he lies with her.

All this attention for her fat step sister disgusted her. Valeana did not deserve it, and she especially did not deserve two fucking princes fighting over her! 

“What weighs on my mind is not of your concern, Floris,” he still didn’t look at her directly, which irked her. The tick in his jaw and the shuffle of his feet betrayed his need to remove himself from her presence. 

She decided to ignore his statement. Her large doe eyes narrowed a bit as she chose her next words carefully. 

“If it is about Valeana, Prince Aemond, it should please you to know you do not need to worry about her health.” What she said had the desired effect. He looked down at her and a shadow went over his eye, casted by his strong nose. Floris kept her eye contact, “She is well.”

The way his nostrils flared told her she plucked the correct chord. 

“And why would I worry about her health?”

“Apologies. I thought you were aware… Princess Helaena returned her to our apartments earlier this morn, claiming she had a fit and allowed her to stay in her quarters.”

His eyes narrowed at her, and his chin slowly tilted, “You speak as if you do not believe it.”

“Because I don’t.”

Aemond turned to face Floris fully now, “Why wouldn’t you believe it?”

Floris shrugged a single slender shoulder, “I know my sister. She hungers for attention… I do not believe she had any sort of fit in the halls,” she rolled her eyes at the idea. “I’m sure she acted out one, for whatever damned reason.”

His eye narrowed a bit, and she wondered if he was dissecting this interaction as much as she was. It gave her a little thrill at the prospect that he was – she had yet to meet anyone to match her intellect. 

“Valeana does not like attention. She abhors being the center of it.”

Floris raised an eyebrow at him, “You speak as if you are still chums. I’ll have you know, my Prince, she is not the same girl you once knew. When we returned to Claw Isle all those years ago, everyone was at her beck and call. She got carted around on a liter like some spoiled fat Dornish princess. I guess she got addicted to the attention so much it changed her character. She got lazy, forced people to do things for her, and when no one was regarding her for a second, she would pull something childish ploy to ensure everyone was fretting over her. It never changed after all this time – she still pulls stunts like this to get pity.”

Aemond leaned back against the balustrade, crossing his ankles and arms. “And why are you sharing this with me?”

He was assessing her, she knew, trying to piece together her motives. Though she had little doubt that her motives to besmirch her step sister would be any different to his own with Aegon. They were the same in that way. Perhaps that is why she found herself approaching him, a step too close to be proper. 

“Valeana will try to guilt trip you and never offer you the absolution that you need to appease your father’s wishes. It’s her little revenge, I suppose, whilst receiving what she desperately craves from everyone else: pity. Quite childish, if you ask me.” Floris extends her neck, nose pointed in the air as she continues with an overtly formal curtsey. “But as your humble servant, my Prince, I feel it is my duty to warn you about her intentions. And as an old friend, I do not wish to see you painted as a villain or a fool.” 

Aemond pursed his lips and lifted his chin as he gave a soft, “Hm”. His eye was assessing her still, and Floris did her best to keep eye contact, lest she betray her fibs from lack of confidence in them. In her world they were true of course, but she knew in the deepest pit in her chest that she exaggerated and stretched the truth. Oh, her step sister loved getting coddled, but other than being resolute in her bitter resentment, Valeana wasn’t smart enough to concoct an intricate plan of revenge that involved emotional manipulation. That was all Floris’ genius. 

His head tilted the other way, making it obvious that something clicked in his mind. He gave a little nod and stepped off the balustrade, letting his arms fall to his side, “Thank you for sharing this information with me, Lady Floris. It has been… illuminating. And I am grateful.” 

Floris smiled, the ends of her lips twitching, threatening to pull them into an impish grin as she watched her seeds start to take root. 

“It is my pleasure, Prince Aemond.”

He regarded her for a moment, and she felt a heat bloom from her bosom up to her neck and then ears. 

“If it does not impede on your time, Floris, would you care to join me on a walk around the courtyard? I wish to pick your brain.” 

Oh, that just went straight to her cunt. 

Not able to control her grin any longer, she nodded eagerly, “Pick away, my Prince.”

Notes: Please, just let me cook. It's a long story, we aight even halfway done, my loves.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[descendantsramblings]

Hi :)) idk if you’re accepting requests but I was just thinking…

I remembered that Hook canonically went to Eaton College, which is a pretty prestigious university, so he must actually be really fricking smart. I wish I knew what he studied tho :/ So anyway, I was hoping maybe you would write something (preferably x reader?) where he surprises everyone with his intelligence? I feel like the other VKs probably don’t actually know just how clever he is and would be taken off guard to realise it. I don’t have any specific situations in mind but I’d really like to see maybe reader acknowledge and recognise him as more than the pretty rebel he lets everyone see him as

I’m always accepting requests, it’s so fun getting to make things for someone, and it’s great writing practice. I’m almost done with all the ones I have, keep them coming 🩵

I love secretly smart characters, making a right old Evie out of him right now. I love him. (I had so many tabs open to get this right, so so many. I did Chemistry for the gag but it wasn’t worth the gag.)

Studious

James Hook x VK!Reader

Pronouns used: they/them/theirs

Summary: If it means that much to his partner, Hook can be a bit of a tutor

Warnings: pet names, swearing, sexual references, high school chemistry (Like the actual class that made me cry when I was a student), does sword fighting need a trigger warning?, Or fake moaning? Hook's partner making a joke about him having a thing for Morgie, Uliana almost makes a potion explode

Word Count: 3.5K

      Nervous fingers are shuffling through flashcards as the pirate walks into their dorm. His smirk being accompanied by raised eyebrows as he leans on the door frame, taking in the sight. They have their textbook and notebook spread out across the floor, sitting cross legged between the two. Pens and highlighters strewn around them and an empty notebook and study guide directly before them. (Y/n) is staring at them with a pout and wide eyes, huffing as they drop the flash cards beside them. “This is fucking ridiculous,” the words are barely a mumble, popping the knuckles on stressed hands as they say it. They stretch their shoulders back as well before reaching back down for the collection of brightly colored cardstock. 

   “Since when do you have to study, wizkid?” The words make their head shoot up, staring at the boy they hadn’t noticed had entered. “Since Chemistry is kicking my ass, I have to pass this exam or I’m going to fail the class again. If I fail it twice this year I won’t have enough credits to be a senior next year,” their voice is far too fast, rambling on as they reach back down for their study guide. “I thought you exempted all your exams,” he tilts his head as he speaks, watching them shuffle their cards for the third time since he made his way into the room. “Yeah, well I bombed my last two tests -like fifty-two and thirty-five level bombed- and all the As and Bs I have on experiments can’t save me there. So either I make an A on this exam or I fail the entire class for the second time. I am so royally screwed.” With a sigh, Hook makes his way over to the villain on the floor, falling to sit before them with crossed legs and an outstretched hand. “Give me the cards.” “No, I seriously need to study, James. I cannot go do whatever Uli sent you in here  for right now.” 

   He scoffs, leaning forward to snatch the cards from their loose grip on them. “I can come see my partner just because I want to be around them, you know. I don’t always have to be doing something for the group. I do enjoy your company, wouldn't be your boyfriend otherwise.” Dark eyes widen mockingly with raised brows as he finished the sentiment, head shaking in a near-bratty manner. He flips through the cards, letting his eyes ghost over the words and formulas. This was basic chemistry. He did this his sophomore year, he could probably do it in his sleep. “Even then, James, I really need to study. I cannot fail this again.” He lets his eyes cut up to them, a smirk still present across his pouty lips. “Oh of course you do, I can’t have my partner as a super senior. That’s just embarrassing for us both,” he drops the cards into his lap, reaching over for their study guide. He flips it over a time or two, barely reading it. 

  “Okay,” they draw out the word, reaching out to snatch their cards back from where they rest on his thigh, “Then let me study. Really, Honey, can’t you go harass Morgie or Bridget or something?” “Why harass them when my favorite person is right here struggling with the easiest subject ever? That’s much better material.”  (Y/n) scoffs, looking up at him from their flashcards. James is too busy looking over the back of their study guide to give them so much as a second glance, but his face holds this cocky expression. As if the boy is challenging them to snap back. “The easiest subject ever? As if. I bet you got a B in there at absolute best. I need more than a B on this to pass.” “I actually finished Chemistry One with a perfect score and finished AP Chemistry Two with a ninety-nine percent, since you’re asking.” He drops the papers into his lap, raising an eyebrow with the same challenging look in his eye as when he’s sparring against them. His hand shoots out for the cards again, flipping it from the one that they had been looking at and giving it a sparing glance. Eyes cutting back up to his partner just as quickly as they cut down, “Now, what is the definition of an intensive property?” 

    So they’re really doing this? (Y/n) guesses they shouldn’t argue, they do need the help. And if James is anywhere near as good as he says, this might be their best bet. “An intensive property is,” they let their eyes dart around the room, as if the decor on their walls would hold the answer. “Come on now, Love. Don’t draw it out. What’s an intensive property?” They bite their lip, looking down to their empty lap, “An intensive property is a property which does not rely on the amount of matter present.” A golden hook comes into their line of sight, tucking under their chin to lift their head up. When they look at Hook, he’s inches away from them, “Okay, and what are examples of an intensive property?” The hook beneath their chin moves, the sharp edge barely hovering below their skin. No looking away this time, that was a silent command for their eyes on him. “Boiling and melting points, density, and,” they snap their fingers, dragging out the one syllable word as they think. “And? Come on now, you know this.” “And,” they lock eyes with him, by god those brown eyes were captivating. It was like they were electric, sparking with some sense of excitement and pride that they couldn’t understand. Electric, that’s something right? Electricity isn’t a property of something though, but it seemed right. Why does it seem right? What did electricity have to do with intensive properties? “Conductivity,” they subconsciously cross the fingers on their right hand, staring into their boyfriend’s eyes with a longing to be correct. He nods, pulling them forward slightly. James kisses them with a feather light touch, smiling against their lips as they attempt to draw him closer. “See, I knew you knew it.” 

   They don’t get to respond before he’s drawing back, completely withdrawing his touch as he flips to the next card, dropping “intensive properties” to his lap. “What’s an atomic number?”  “What? No, what was that? You barely kissed me,” they’re pouting, reaching out for a jaw that’s pulling away from them. “What’s an atomic number?” He raises his eyebrows as he speaks, pulling further away as they get on their knees to chase his fleeting lips, “If you want to kiss me you have to answer the question.” “The number of neutrons in an atom's nucleus. Now kiss me again,” they’re fully perched on their knees now, leaning over him as he leans back to get away. James makes a loud noise similar to the sound of a buzzer going off, dropping the card in his hand and using them to cover his mouth. “What is an isotope?” (Y/n) falls back with a huff, completely discouraged as they stare with gaped lips, “What? Where’s my kiss?” 

     He pulls the cards down to smirk over the neon green paper, “I don’t reward wrong answers.” “I wasn’t wrong!” “You were, it’s not the neutrons in the nucleus but what?” A frown crosses the villain’s lips, shoulders slumping as they realize what they’d done. “Protons.” He nods, humming as he raises his brows, “Okay, new question, what’s an isotope?” “You’re awful, this is awful.”  “What’s an isotope?” They rise back up on their knees with a smirk, “What about, one kiss when I correct myself, two kisses when I’m right the first time?” He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he does, “How about you tell me what an isotope is?” “Oh come on,” they’re whining, a hand wrapping around his hook. “Come on and answer the question.” His brows are raised, watching them pout. With wide eyes and batted lashes they let a hand trail up from metal to leather, slowly making its way up to his shoulder. “Captain, won’t you please give me a kiss? I want one so bad. I need your lips.” In any other circumstance that would work, it always worked. But James was already glowing as he looked over notecards, shaking his head with his smirk far more of a smile than normal. “That’s not going to work this time, Love. Now answer the question.” This might just be his new torture method, and by god is it working. (Y/n) was going to go crazy if they didn’t get what they wanted soon. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

   As a pirate, Hook was no stranger to drawing out torture, but he couldn’t stand to sit still for long. His love of chemistry and watching the gorgeous villain in front of him squirm could only keep him bound to one place for so long until he felt as if he might be going stir crazy. Which is how they ended up in a clearing in the woods, standing in a wide stance with swords balanced in their hands. Iron making a sharp “X” between them as they press against one another.  The ravenous look in (Y/n)’s eyes surely matched the crazed look in his, smirks present on either villain’s lips. They made one hell of a sparring partner, he’d learned that the day they met. Never took much to get the two of them alone like this either, the boy longed for the other villain’s sportsmanship. A worthy opponent was hard to come by outside of Neverland, and his lover looked so good while sword fighting that he struggled to focus. Now though, as he spits out questions they struggle to follow, it seems like they knew how he normally felt. 

    They might have quick feet and strong arms, but their pretty mind is making them lag behind. Each time their swords would cross, he’d spurt out a new question, holding them hostage until they could find an answer he saw as fitting. Each wrong answer was met with a strike to their left, correct answers with a strike to their right. They’d start a new battle, clashing metal and devious laughter until one of them could find the other pinned once again. It was the most fun he’d had in years, that annoyed little pout on their face with each new question seemed to only make the game all the more fun. “What’s the atomic number of gold?” “Hook,” despite their tense body language, the name comes out on a whine, pout growing more than the boy thought was possible. “It is gold, yes, now what would its atomic number be?” He’s chuckling to himself and he awaits their response. Their eyes flicker around him, lip between their teeth. “Seventy-nine.” He jumps back from them, sword striking out at their right side. The motion is caught by their own sword while (Y/n) lets out a giggle. 

   “I got it right!” They use their sword to force the tip of his away, turning their body to the left as they strike out above his left shoulder. “That you did, Love,” he swings to the right with a smile, bringing his sword up to push against theirs. He twists his body, gaining the upper hand as he pushes against them. (Y/n) is cringing, realizing how close they were to being cornered by him again. How could they let themself get so distracted? He’s pushing them back, and though they push forward, their sword slides down again, both villains ending up eye to eye with a new iron cross section between them. “You made that too easy,” James smirks, looking them up and down. “I didn’t, you just, that question threw me off. I don’t even know how I knew the answer.” He shakes his head, “You can’t let yourself get thrown off in a sword fight love. Your other opponents might not be as forgiving as me.” He leans over the swords for a moment, pecking their lips before he squares his shoulders back. 

   Hook’s resistance was always strong and unforgiving in a fight, even when he allowed himself a moment of calm in the storm he created. The boy pushes harder on their swords, smirking at his lover as he raises an eyebrow. “What’s a homogeneous mixture?” There’s this flicker of something in his partner’s eyes. A giggle escaping their lips as they smile at him, head tilting to the side. “Isn’t that what you and Morgie are?” He pushes rougher against them, feeling the way their laughter shakes the sword in their iron grip. “Very funny, Darling. Now answer the question, unless you want to walk the plank,” he’s stepping closer, their swords sliding ever so slightly straighter against each other. “You wouldn’t dare, you love me too much.” He hums, shaking his head, “Positive? According to you, I love Morgie, so which is it?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

     “You two are late,” she doesn’t look up from her cauldron as she speaks, Uliana automatically knows who’s wandering in by their footsteps. The sounds are perfectly in sync, heavy pairs of boots falling in time as if they moved as one. When the two become visible in the hideout, their faces are red with a sweat sheen across their foreheads. Hook’s arm adoringly around (Y/n)’s waist as they lean against him,  the clothing of both teens ruffled from the movements they’d made while jousting. It’s cozy, needy, and the couple’s appearance quickly attracts the attention of Morgie and Hades. Both boys look to their friends with a smirk, cutting each other a sparing glance before turning back. “What have you two been up to?” Hades gives them a once over taking in how Hook’s shirt had come untucked and the wrinkles in the hem of (Y/n)’s top. “Been helping (Y/n) study for chemistry,” Hook shrugs, falling into a chair and pulling his partner down into his lap. Warm arms encapsulate the villain as they lean into his touch, smiling as his head settles on their left shoulder. A kiss being pressed to the shell of their ear earning the boy a hum.

     The sound of Hades laughing fills the room, his eyes rolling in their sockets, “Yeah, I’m sure you have been.” Hook can tell where this is going from a mile away, especially with the gorgeous look of exhaustion taking over his lover’s face. Relaxed muscles that are hidden behind heat blushed flesh. Sweat shines on their forehead and neck while their eyelids hang lower than normal. (Y/n) always looked tired and blissed out after a good duel, smiling lazily as they cling to him. He knew how they looked, and with the genuine topic at hand it definitely seemed like Hook had done nothing more than making an innuendo. If he was honest, part of him hoped that the boys thought it was an innuendo, tutoring just wasn’t his style. “We were, Hades. Excellent study session, actually. Of course, (Y/n) has always been the smartest person I know.” The god raises his brows, smirk growing as he turns to Morgie, “You don’t say. Morgie, I bet you overhear a lot of those study sessions, don’t you?” The sorcerer smirks right back, an evil glint resting in his eyes, “Oh yeah, I think the last one was English though. Studying a poem maybe?” 

    (Y/n) feels Hook’s hand sneak onto their thigh as the boys talk, an amused smirk resting on their face. He lets his fingers spread, taking up as much of the plush part of their leg as he can. “Really, Morgie? Why would you say that?” Hades is letting his eyes flicker between the overly cozy couple and Morgie as he speaks, watching for tell-tale signs that the villains were flustered. “Oh you know, I just recognized the opening line,” his finger taps his chin as he speaks, “What was it again? Oh yeah!” Morgie’s face falls to mimic a blissed out expression, hand gripping on his chest as he speaks on a nearly pornographic moan, “Oh Captain, my Captain!” Hades and Morgie fall into each other’s sides laughing, the noise they’re making earning an annoyed scoff from a preoccupied Uliana. “If you two idiots could make yourself useful, that would be great,” she’s turning, grabbing a vial of rattlesnake venom from a shelf. 

   “Study session isn’t over, Love,” Hook’s voice is soft, plush lips moving against the shell of their ear as he whispers. His words lead to them whining, head falling back against his shoulder as they pout. “My head is too full, Baby. I’ve had enough.” He chuckles, kissing their cheek as his finger moves across their thigh in an “S” shape. “Tell me the element,” he whispers, repeating the shape across their leg. “Sulfur,” they mumble, eyes focusing in on the way Uliana moves. He kisses their shoulder, “Good job.” He draws a circle next. “Oxygen.” Another kiss falls on their shoulder. It becomes a pattern. He’d draw the symbol of an element on their thigh, they would tell him the name of it. The shape repeats until they get it right, ones they got correct on the first try lead to them being rewarded with a kiss to the shoulder or neck. 

    Somewhere, though it’s partially tuned out by the pirate and his lover, Morgie is explaining what Uliana is up to.  Something about making a potion to sneak into Charming’s food, apparently he spilt Uliana’s drink all over her when she was leaving a coffee shop. Some sort of spell to make the boy clumsy enough to spill everything on himself for twenty four hours. (Y/n) can’t focus on that, not with the way that James is tracing a “Y” on their inner thigh. What element’s symbol was “Y”? “You’re making that up,” they mumble and he shakes his head against them in response. “Think harder.” “It’s too hard to think when you’re doing it there,” the words come out in a hiss, eyes cutting over their shoulder to see the smirk on his face. “Try harder then, Love.” 

   Maleficent makes her way past them, holding a little vial of something as she does. “It took forever to find this shit in the AP Chem room, just so you know. Better be worth the trouble.” Uliana scoffs, reaching an arm out for it, “It will be.” Hades and Morgie stand up to follow the dark pixie, the god cutting James and (Y/n) a look. His eyes zero in on Hook’s hand, laughing softly, “God, Hook, you are just insatiable.” The pirate winks at him over (Y/n)’s shoulder, kissing their shoulder as they softly mumble, “Yttrium.” “Good job,” he coos, letting his eyes follow the other villains. Maleficent said she’d taken something from the chem room, what is it?     “What you got there, Mali?” She turns to smirk at Hook, “Finishing ingredient to the potion. Though, it looks like we could have just got it off of (Y/n). What have you been doing to them to have them sweating like that, Hook?” His brows furrow, looking at the vial of powder in Uliana’s hand as she stands dangerously close to the fire-heated cauldron. They could get it from (Y/n)’s sweat? What could she be- his blood runs cold as Uliana goes to pull the stopper out of the bottle.

  “Uliana, don’t!” He’s throwing a very startled (Y/n) off of his lap as he jumps up, running towards the group. “What, you have a soft spot for Charming now?” He’s shaking his head furiously as he reaches out for the vial. “You can’t put that in there right now. It needs to cool.” Her  arms cross, holding the vial away from his panicked hand. “What are you talking about?”  Dark eyes stay trained on the vial, shaking his head as he speaks, “That’s sodium, right? That’s what the joke about the sweat means?” She nods, a brow raised as she waves a hand for him to hurry up and explain himself. “So, you cannot add heat to sodium.” “People add heat to salt all the time, Hook. We’ll be fine.”  She’s not listening, she never listens.

   “It’s not salt, Uli. Sodium is only half of salt.” “The other half is chlorine,” (Y/n) calls out from the other side of the room. And Hook smiles slightly, giving them a thumbs up behind his back. “So what, you’re saying that I can’t use it?” Uliana is obviously growing tired of him, but there seems to be a gear turning in Maleficent's head. “Not with heat, unless you don’t like having eyebrows,” Hook shakes his head, an arm once again reaching out for the vial. “Are you threatening me?” He groans, dragging his hand down his face, “Fine Uliana, add heat to Sodium and make it explode. Explode with it for all I care. It’s your funeral.”  Hades looks between the two, watching Hook storm away from them as he extinguishes the fire under the cauldron. “Uliana, just let it cool. Hook, you two were actually studying chemistry?” He scoffs, waving him off, “I am more than a pretty face, Hades.” “But, you were all tired and sweaty?” “Made me answer questions while we were sword fighting,” (Y/n) shrugs. “But, his hand moving on your inner thigh?” “Tracing atomic symbols on their thigh,” Hook shrugs, reaching out for his partner who walks into his arms with a giggle. They were actually studying? Who in their right mind studies like that? Not that Hades has ever thought the couple were in their right mind.

[batwynn]

I hate that I’m here… again. I’m so sorry that I’m here again. But once again I’ve been trapped in a difficult situation that I’ve tried literally every way to avoid, prepare for, and roll-up-my-sleeves and do it myself. But at every turn we’ve been ignored, let down by professionals, etc. until I’ve been forced to go into debt just to heat my home because others can’t seem to take any responsibility for things that they’re responsible for. This is genuinely my last ditch effort to find even a little help. I can not go through this again. I’m exhausted, sick, and trying my best to scrape together some commission work while dealing with a really bad flare up of my autoimmune disease. (Hooray) I’m coming up short no matter what I do, and I’m desperate.

Please, if you can, donate and/or signal boost this!

For every donation received, there is a ‘anything goes’ offer of art! Please contact me here or anywhere on social media/email if you’d like to request something!

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

Chasm: Curse of Kaine (Vol. 1/2024), #1.

Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Andrea Broccardo; Colorist: Brian Reber; Letterer: Joe Caramagna

[thedreadvampy]

The thing is I am definitely not happy or chill in the Immediate Sense lately but I am, big picture, so fucking happy with the person I am.

It's like. My brain was made by and for consistent trauma and since that trauma stopped about 5-7 years ago, it is incredible what the amount of resilience and cleverness and flexibility and thoughtfulness I developed to survive can do when it's not being all spent on surviving. like I had a hundred ton weight on me so I had to get REALLY STRONG to stay in the same place and not get 100% crushed, and when that weight came off I found I can use the strength it used to take to stand up and I can leap tall buildings in a single bound.

I was talking to my mum the other day and she said, "you've got the 'fuck it' energy at 30 that most women don't find until their fifties at least" and I'm like yeah man. Imagine how unstoppable I'll be in 20 years.

[carcarrot]

OH MY GOD A YEAR AGO TODAY .

[sydmarch]

no interest in any of my hobbies next to no concerts going on all summer feeling abandoned by the majority of the few irls I still have no idea where to meet new people to replace them now that I'm not part of the highly social hard partying sales culture I spent basically all of my post college life in anymore literally what reason is there to keep trying

[opens-up-4-nobody]

The way that the sun hits leaves and clouds. I feel like I could watch the colors change forever. If I could slow down for that long.

[scribefindegil]

been having some really bad curse days again and I ammmmm So scared about the winter.

[fandommusings]

I met 5 out of the 6 students on my Kindergarten self contained autistic support class and I gotta say I think I legitimately have been blessed with the best, sweetest, and MOSE ENTHUSIASTIC class ever!

[clarabowmp3]

.

[batsplat]

if you could change the outcome of any 3 motogp races (the outcome of the championship doesn’t change regardless tho) which ones would you chose?

one of those asks that immediately made me forget every single race I've watched in my life. it's a tough one, especially with the championship thing... I'm gonna add another criterion here and say nothing to do related to injury/death

so... I came up with one quite quickly, then got stuck, then came up with a second and got even more stuck. I'm quite reluctant to change any 'plot-relevant races' in the context of specific careers and rivalries, plus I'm ideologically opposed to stealing any win off a non-alien and giving it to an alien. which then kinda left me?? well. stuck. I don't like these picks but well maybe I'll come up with something better at some point

assen 2018: I simply could not come up with a third race so I'll just throw this one in. dovi + valentino really really should have gotten onto the podium in this race, those were extremely podium-worthy performances, it was such a deeply silly incident between the pair of them that took them out of podium contention. also it's still seen as a classic race and... I don't even begrudge the two beneficiaries for their podium, it's just one where the three best riders that day didn't end up on the podium and I would change that!! I don't even really care that much but also look I had a spot to fill. would've enjoyed the rancid podium vibes, it's what a race of that quality deserved

sepang 2018: just deeply annoying? like, I think it was a super impressive performance, the consistent lap times trick from a 78 year old was very neat, it was cute when jorge did unprompted valentino prop for metronome solidarity reasons, it's one of literally two premier class races where valentino crashed out of the lead so I don't even hold it against him. but... well, that one might have been building to a battle between marc and valentino, and it would've been fun to see that! not least because of location + relationship vibes in 2018. I'd change the result in preventing the crash, don't really care who wins after that point - hey, they can crash each other out if they want. I Just Wanted To See It

styria 2020: bit of a niche one but I remember being pissed off by this so I'm going with it - this should have been mir's win without the bloody red flag. now I'm very sorry that maverick was just having an abysmal time in austria, peace and love to him, I'd probably never step foot in the country again after the eight days he had in that country.... but still, his bike attempting to murder him did ruin what really should've been joan's first win. I'm very defensive of mir's win stats and I was supporting the title bid with zero wins agenda once that looked plausible, but now that he's just gotten stuck on one win for quite a few years... well, again, I do think it's kinda iconic but I'd also let him have two. and back then he wasn't even really looking like a title contender and was still going for his FIRST win.... I was feeling very sorry for him so. there