#but then makes no effort to BE a sister. it’s like she’s just fixated on the appearance of it

[fingertipsmp3]

My sister messaged me

[controld3vil]

atreides and bene gesserit

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic), austin butler x actor!reader

synopsis: requested by this ask!

⤷ alt: as clueless as you were about your sister's role, it brought you much surprise and joy to see her on the same carpet as you.

notes: reader uses fem pronouns as she's playing a role as a bene gesserit. reader is also described as wearing a sleeveless jumpsuit. and i really enjoyed lea seydoux's performance and hope to see more of it !! this is also COMPLETELY separate from the first two posts ive made since the readers r playing different characters yeah?

When Denise Villeneuve asked you about the role of Lady Margot Fenring, you were genuinely shocked about his decision. You appreciated his works but have never gotten close to any of his sets before. You have worked with directors who've admired Villeneuve for his imaginative mind. And now, you witnessed his creativity in person for the first time.

The role was small and not as significant as the other main leads. Regardless, your character was just as enigmatic and complex as any other in the Dune franchise. Even though your time was short, it was a fun experience to learn and observe from. You weren't able to meet the entire cast after production, but with the NYC premiere, you were able to link up again.

You heard your name being called out. "Hello! How are you?" The well-known comedian and presenter by the name of Amelia Dimonberg was now beside you. In her jet-black corset dress, her style is chic and elegant. She hands you a microphone with the film's title plastered on it. "You look beautiful!"

"Thank you!" you sweetly recuperate, diverting your shoulders to the sight, cutely. You give a little pose before complimenting her own outfit. "You as well!"

"Do you have a memorable day on set that sticks out to you?" Amelia questions, subtly leaning toward your direction. And now you noticed her detailed eye makeup which enhances her outfit altogether.

"Well- I've had, like, only a few days," You let out a quick sigh. Truly it was nothing to be embarrassed about but you could not help but feel shy about it.

"Mmhmm! So all of them?"

"Yeah, all of them!" With ease, your shyness turns into giddy laughter as all you remember from your times on set. Recalling those tiny moments brought a small smile to your face. "Every day counted for me and that was enough."

"Oh absolutely!" Amelia chides, nodding in agreement. She quickly then moves onto the next question, "How long do you think you could last in the actual desert?"

"Oo that's a tough question," Lifting your fingers to rest on your chin as you try to contemplate an answer. "Ideally no- I feel like I could never recover from the heat."

"Yes yes, the heat's very intense,"

"Yeah- no I don't think I'd ever leave my house for that-" You shake your head nonchalantly, acknowledging how most of your scenes already were indoors. You could imagine how you would do in the desert of Abu Dhabi. It makes you appreciate the cast and crew even more for their effort to make filming more comforting and tolerable.

"Where would be your dream location to hang out? I'm assuming your home then since you prefer to say inside?" The blonde interviewer quickly catches on, eyebrows raising intrigued by your response.

Instead, you hummed bashfully, "Actually I think an oasis would be nice." The camera catches onto Amelia's face, fully fixated on you. "Which fits perfectly if I were to live in the desert actually!"

"Mm yeah, smart choice!" She responds more cheerily. "You can maybe go for a swim, you know-"

"Right right," You give her an playful look, "And you don't have to go thirsty!"'

"Absolutely, the best of both worlds," Amelia chirps, doing the same expression. "So this film centers a lot around dreams. Do you have vivid dreams of yourself?"

"Yes! I've uh- I've had many dreams of myself. I mean, this one, for example-" You turn to the camera, waving with the most adorable smile on your face. "'I'm living my dream right now!"

"You're living your dream right now!"

In another section of the premiere, you were walking down the carpet for press interviews and photography. The set where the premiere was taking place was gorgeously made in the shades of black and orange, the perfect theme of the film. The entire venue was outdoors, allowing you to feel the cold air and be more at ease in the crowded space. There were more paparazzi than you had expected, and you suddenly became aware that you were alone. Without any friend or acquaintance to accompany by, you searched aimlessly for a familiar face.

Then there was a holler. And then multiple more came after, it made you confused really. Your head swerves to the sound of the person you so try to look for and immediately you're struck in awe.

"Anya?!" In an instant, you're seen running towards your sister in the far back of the premiere wall. People were reluctantly used to fast-paced relocations around the carpet. Therefore most did not mind your hasty stumbles through the crowd. It was almost comical how apparent your demeanor changed when you heard her, in fact, videos and pictures caught all of it.

"Hi!" She beams in her white dress robe. Her makeup was glowing, making her skin seem angelic, and sheer without impurities. Her outfit covers her like a nun, covering her head and body in almost transparent cloth. Yet it flows around her so elegantly, almost like she was an angel from the stars. She squeezes your figure firmly, only after releasing to gush about your appearance.

You adored a beige sleeveless jumpsuit. The color is complimented with tiny designs of sparkle. Its seams captured your figure perfectly, as you also wore a gold chain and bulky rings. From the lighting, it looks as though your outfit is shining. And to be completely honest, you prefer comfort over the judging looks of fashion critics. Therefore you wanted to wear something that you could still move comfortably in. Thus you were able to run over to your sister with ease.

Through the other lens and camera, they could pick up some of her words after. "You look so gorgeous! How are you here?!" Anya's expression changes into a perplexed one as she gets a hold of your shoulders, shaking them back and forth.

"I was invited obviously, "You said, mimicking her voice while holding onto her arms on yours. "You didn't tell me you were a part of Dune!" Viewers from afar could tell you were pushing an act, reacting as though you were petrified about how Anya managed to be here in the first place.

"I didn't know you were either!" She giggled, closing in on your right ear. Your sister whispers to you slowly, trying to withdraw from the camera and recordings. "Villeneuve had mentioned something but honestly I just thought it was a joke."

It was your turn to guff. Your mouth opens wide flabbergasted, looking sarcastically offended. "Why would you think he's joking?!"

Anya scoffs lightly, wanting to go further with the joke. "I don't know- I just didn't take his word seriously,"

"Why? Because you didn't think I'd make it into the film?" You accused, eyes widening with a hand over your heart. "You're so cruel."

"So cruel," She smirks up at you, then moves back to be by your side. You see her face forward the flashing cameras, as you do the same. "Come! Let's take some pictures!"

"Your outfit looks beautiful by the way!" Anya Taylor muses, eyeing down at the fine details on your jumpsuit. "It's very... you!"

You give her a nod, before flattening some of the creases, "I thought this color was so exquisite, so I thought it would be perfect for the premiere." You lift your head to look at your sister, before realizing behind her, the upcoming stars of the film were getting ready to take cast photos. "Oh Anya- I think you should go!"

Your sister turns and then gazes back at you with a soft smile. "You should come with me!"

The thunder of cameramen and journalist blurred your focus for a moment. "Are you sure-"

Again the sound of your name is hurdled but this time from someone you haven't seen in a long time. Jessica Ferguson, who too wears a black body suit with veils and bold makeup. She waves her hand almost too eagerly to have you come closer alongside your sister. "Come, join us!"

Videos were filmed of the people gesturing to the cast of Dune in a line. Little by little, the row of people is filled and organized to be in the center of the camera's focus. Some actors had to move spots, due to lack of space or better color semblance on the other side of the row. You stood next to Jessica and Florence Pugh was beside your right, as you tried to stand closer for the picture.

Anya Taylor was on the opposite side, with Austin Butler and beside him, Timothee Chalamet. A noticeable clip taken all over was when the French actor went to greet the English actress, warmly, clasping her hand with both hands as a proper salute as on-screen siblings.

You did not mind the lack of attention. You were happy for Anya for achieving a great role. One with a welcoming cast and crew. It was then your eyes scanned down the row, from Zendaya to Stellan Skarsgard. Then to Austin, whom you've been familiar with since day one. Only him to find your gaze seconds later. You give a little nod and smile before averting your direction to Anya who is already staring at you with gleaming eyes.

You were going back and forth with Jessica and Florence on your travels for a while. From plans reception to favorite desserts, all you three wanted to talk about was food. Paparazzi caught onto your banter quickly and snapped a few photos. You even went out of your way to do silly poses. Followed by Jessica and Florence, then did the same, sticking their tongues out in a rock star kind of fashion. You throw out piece signs, giving a dramatic frown as another flash happens.

Catch-ups were definitely refreshing and fun. Thus why you nearly jump when Austin appeared behind you.

"Oh my gosh, hey!" You stuttered, giving him a quick hug to calm your nerves. "You scared me!"

"Sorry sorry! I just wanted to surprise you!" He leans his head slightly, allowing better eye contact. You felt a few taps on your shoulder and noticed Jessica and Florence scurrying away, with their thumbs up, all goofy and excited.

Your eyes make it back to his. "I would've said hi back at the cast photo, but you were so far away," Shrugging you dismiss your failure as a mild missed opportunity.

But Austin shakes his head in an averted manner. "No- Don't worry about it." You could already sense interviewers and others with microphones closing on you two. You were out in the open, and it's bound to happen. "I wanted to- you know, say hi to you in a less chaotic place."

"I tried looking for you but there's just so many people," You give your costar an exhausted look. It was then a keen young man approached the pair of you. It was the People magazine, as you became aware of the logo alongside their camera and microphone.

"Hey, would you two mind a short interview for People's magazine?"

Truly, this was what premieres were about. The cast and crew meet with fans to show what they have worked so hard for. You brought you no better satisfaction than to praise everyone's efforts. The interviewer then proceeded to have a quick introduction of you and Austin beside you. You both had separate microphones in each hand. Once the video started rolling, you peered at the camera and gave the audience a grin.

"So how are you guys doing? Met all of your lovely cast members yet?"

"Oh absolutely," You emphasized every syllable, nodding. Austin only glances at you in amusement. "It's crazy how many people are here I was so overwhelmed!"

"Yeah, it was pretty crowded," The male actor adds, lowering his microphone slightly.

"Hopefully it will die down!" The interviewer beams. "So what was it like getting to know each other in this film? How was the first day on set like?"

"Oh, well it went very smoothly," You start, staring up at Austin in approval. "Even though my time was short on set, I feel like we had a pretty good rhythm starting out."

"I was about to say! The scenes with Feyd and Lady Margot were really something!"

"Why thank you, we appreciate it," Austin nervously laughs, scratching his ear.

The interviewer takes the lead to discuss your preparation for the role and how it was working with Villeneuve. As new characters, you and Austin both talked about your views on both of your characters. Both are very different yet mysterious to the viewers. Additionally, you two were introduced in a similar scene of the pit fight. The People's Magazine interviewer was compelled to compliment Austin on his opening scene. You knew he had practiced the choreographed fights vigorously. And of which you were lucky to witness on the days that you were present.

"It was completely freeing and different than what I was used to doing," Austin probes, leaning toward your direction. "Were you there for the pit fight?"

"I think I was," You turn, similarly. "I remember watching from afar and thinking wow." Immediately you could sense him eagerly looking down at you with a sly smile. "He was- Austin did amazing with the fight choreography, I was impressed!"

"Was this the first time seeing him in full costume too?"

"Oh yes!" You bonked your hand on your forehead, "He was and I just- couldn't believe it was him!"

Suddenly Austin jumps in, "She was startled when I first came up to her in full costume."

"You came out of nowhere, by the way!" You rebutted, giving him a side glance.

"I didn't mean to," As he tries to reassure his actions, "I wanted to give a good first impression!" It was humorous how playful you two were together despite having dissimilar filming schedules. Though most of your scenes involved Butler, your friendship only became more apparent weeks after working together. It was off and on for months at a time due to being busy in other countries simultaneously.

Eventually, you were able to link up again weeks before the premiere. After waiting a long time to meet up, you almost felt relieved that you hadn't seen your costar in a while.

"And Austin, how was filming with her?! From a character's standpoint, what kind of dynamic do you see playing out?" The People's Magazine interviewer perks up, having the camera transition from his face to Austin's.

"Well I'd say, she's great. You know I've got to meet a lot of amazing people in this film. And," He says your name sincerely, "She's- she's one of those people. I can't say much for Lady Margot and Feyd's relationship- you know there's a lot of that's still not uncovered. We don't really know what's happening but kind of have an idea of something. And to have such a great actress like her, it makes everything feel authentic and- feel the tension." It felt as if you were in a daze, eyes completely focused on his words with such admiration and grace. Before you knew it, you were smiling as if you had won the best possible prize in the world. His compliments to you meant more than you had anticipated really.

Unbeknownst to you, the cameraman had caught your lovestruck expression before directing attention back to the interviewer. "And how about you, Miss Margot?"

"I'd say it's the same," Now looking at the interviewer, only momentarily back at your costar. "Austin's- he's great at all the stunts and acting like a scary dude. Every scene with him was fun to do. Like he's all serious in character but once they yell cut! he's so nice and funny!" Your bubbly laugh breaks as you can feel your face growing hot.

"Well I appreciate you liking my humor," Austin pokes fun at you, fanning a little air towards you.

You mutter a soft thank you! before continuing, "And he's dedicated you know? I remember one scene, a little spoiler, where Feyd is about to be tested by Lady Margot, and I just couldn't do it! I couldn't keep a straight face!"

"Really?!"

"She just kept breaking, I don't know why," The actor shrugs, his attention closely drawn to you. "We had a few takes on a few days."

"We did! We did!" You gave a big frown, "You just have a really distracting face."

"Do I?" Austin asks, between the lines of teasing and coolly.

By the time, other premieres had occurred, people were still focused on your interactions with Austin Butler. Your chemistry on and off screen on the carpet was hilarious. And with how polarizing your characters were, it made many clips of your shared encounters gain attention.

A few short videos were recorded after the People Magazine interview of you and Austin, bashfully talking behind the stage. The two of you went back and forth whispering in each other's ears about what was unknown to the viewer. Through a bird's eye view, the video also catches you hugging your arms before zooming in on Austin's placing an arm around your figure.

Another clip that had been reposted many times was when you both took duo pictures together. As you comfortably shift your weight on one leg, as you turn to have your side face the flashing paparazzi. Whilst the Elvis actor stands beside you at a pleasant distance, doing the same pose to the other side. There was one instance where you lifted your head to make eye contact with your eyes instantly brightening. As Austin's smile widened, only to blow air in your face.

[autisticlenaluthor]

Dress

Kara stays up until nearly three in the morning, listening to the sounds of the city below. She eavesdrops on arguing neighbors and house parties blaring music multiple streets away as she fights back yawns and flips through TV channels. It’s tedious and bordering on painful, but it keeps her from fixating on her bottomless pit of a rumbling stomach and the cramps that make it impossible to sleep.

Okay– so, maybe Kara hadn’t tried to sleep. But sleep hasn’t been coming easy these days and being in a new city in a new state with no plan and no friends other than her sister doesn’t exactly make it easy to calm the mind.

That’s why Kara stays awake and distracted. She tries not to think about how Alex is being forced to give up even more years of her life and even more space in her home to accommodate her sister’s comfort. She tries not to spiral over Lena and how she lives fifteen minutes away now– maybe even less– and how she’s going to have to suck it up and tell her about the move eventually. But most importantly, Kara refuses to think about the fact that she truly feels like she may implode from hunger.

It’s a pointless effort.

At 2:45, she finds herself staring blankly into the fridge as she tries to distinguish between what’s Alex’s and what’s Kelly’s. Her stomach twists into an even tighter knot, causing memories of her first few weeks on Earth to flood her.

Eliza had found the hoards of packaged apple slices from free school lunches and expired Uncrustables stashed in her dresser drawer, led by the trail of ants marching through the second floor. Eliza tried explaining that she didn’t need to worry– they were never going to run out of food, they’d always be able to buy more. But the reassurance just felt like a drop in the bucket of everything else Kara was supposed to be absorbing.

She hadn’t known then, how to explain that the money was never the problem. She knew Eliza had had enough of it– she saw it in the clothes Alex wore and the jewelry around the older woman’s neck. It was just that the moment the yellow sun hit Kara’s skin– it was like a black hole erupted within her. It was aching and screaming– begging to be filled.

Constantly, Kara tried. She doubled up portions on family meals and guzzled protein shakes in between. But it was never enough. Her appetite would always return and with it, the question:

What if this feeling never goes away?

Staring at her big sister’s half-empty fridge, Kara feels thirteen again.

She’s anxious in a way she can’t quite describe with a restlessness she knows will never leave. The only thing Kara can cling to is the notion that she needs to snack on something before she loses her mind and she can’t justify stealing groceries from her new roomies.

So she does the logical thing and goes to the nearest 24-hour mini-mart at 3:07 am– clad in flannel pajama pants and tie-dye crocs.

There, Kara finds herself paralyzed in front of another freezer. Only this time, it’s in the frozen food aisle with a plastic basket in her hand. She’s filled it with all the essentials– pumpkin spice pretzels, a box of pasta shaped like the characters from Arthur, three things of frozen potstickers, and four variations of Hot Pockets.

As Kara stares, she tries to remember what the hell it was she came here to buy. She knows it wasn’t the cartoon mac-and-cheese and it definitely wasn’t the pretzels that Alex is going to bully her for later. But all she can register is how loudly the lights are humming and the fact that every so often, the one on her left will flicker like the bulb is about to die.

Kara blows through closed lips and turns her head. Down one of the aisles, there’s something sparkly and purple. She follows the glimmer with narrow eyes until she finds its source: a long, tight dress. The kind of thing you wear to a gala.

Except the woman who wears it isn’t at a gala– she’s standing in front of a selection of cheap wine, holding one bottle by the neck as she examines the others on the shelves. She has dark hair which cascades down her shoulders and the gown accentuates her curves in all the right places.

Even without seeing her face, Kara knows she’s beautiful.

She can’t help the way that she stares at her, trying to get a better look. It’s something on any other day– she’d never allow herself to do. But she’s only ever known one beautiful brunette with the money for dresses like that one and reasons to wear them. The woman she still hasn’t found a way to be honest with, even after three painstakingly long years apart.

Kara takes a hesitant step forward and watches for just a moment longer, catching the way that she turns and tilts her head, causing raven hair to fall down in front of her. From the angle of their bodies– it’s impossible to get a glimpse of her face, but when the movement is followed by a familiar flipping sound, Kara can’t help it. She freezes.

Because she knows that sound. There’s only two people in the entire world whose heart rates she’s trained herself to notice: Alex and Lena’s.

Lena’s heart rate just piqued which means Lena Luthor is standing less than ten feet away from her.

At the realization, Kara drops her basket. It clatters to the floor and topples over– spilling its contents across the linoleum and Kara nearly goes down with it. Her pulse skyrockets and anxiety fuels her body with enough energy to send a rocket to the moon.

“Fuckfuckfuck.”

She scrambles to pick up the spilled groceries but as soon as she hits the ground– she can see Lena’s head whipping around to find the source of the commotion. Kara drops the boxes again and without a second thought– makes a run for it. She dashes straight into the cereal aisle, in such a panic she forgets about her super speed.

By the time she’s ducked down on the floor, gripping one of the shelves for dear life, she’s knocked over three things of cereal and four jars of peanut butter. Still, she peers her head just past the shelf– now only able to see the outline of Lena’s figure and the slightest sliver of her face.

She can see traces of red lipstick (when did Lena start wearing that?) and the outline of her nose. When Lena turns– Kara catches her face through the wine bottles. Rao, she could collapse again at the sight.

Her pale skin makes her hair glisten and her green eyes glimmer below a thin stroke of eyeliner. Her lips, painted that fierce red, are parted ever so slightly in confusion, and she knits her brow the same way she used to when they were kids.

Somehow, Lena looks exactly the same and completely different and Kara doesn’t know how to process it.

She’s seen the occasional selfie Lena sends when she goes somewhere new– like Paris or the Boston Science Museum and every so often, she’ll appear in one of Sam’s Facebook posts– posted with shot glasses at the bar, or kissing the cheek of an adorably tan toddler. But nothing compares to really seeing her.

Her presence now is a forceful reminder that Lena’s existence is true. It isn’t just an occasional light on Kara’s phone or a status update from a friend of a friend. Lena exists in the same world as her. She lives a life that Kara was once stupid enough to believe she’d always be a part of.

[carlsangel]

CRUSH

carl grimes x adhd!dixon!fem!reader

(carl loves to hear about your hyper fixation.)

tags: fluff!

masterlist here!

(this takes place in season 4 at the prison!)

Growing up, you’d gotten interested in many things. You were really educated on a lot and your dad, Daryl honestly couldn’t keep up with it. He tried his best, since he’s a pretty quiet guy he’s a great listener. Although, sometimes you wished he’d give you some sort of feedback or maybe ask you questions about whatever it was you were telling him about.

Even after the turn he never really had time to talk about anything. He was always going on runs or he went out hunting. He was really important in the way the prison ran, so he was always busy. You always felt sort of anxious about it, you could never really talk or share your thoughts or explain the interests you loved. They were especially important now as most of your hyper fixations were what was getting you through it all.

You talked, and you talked a lot and there’s nothing wrong with that. But in a world that suddenly had gone quiet, it was hard for people to listen to you considering how adapted they’d become to the silence. You were like a burst of energy that most people weren’t exactly ready for quite yet.

Except for Carl.

He always thought you were the cutest and funniest ever, even when you were younger like at the quarry or the farm. There, you never really had freedom to be yourself because the adults would always tell you to hush and be quieter. That’s why at the prison, he loved to watch you be who you truly were. He’d seen you interact with the other kids at the prison and had gotten angry at them for brushing you off when you were excited about certain things and began to ramble. So, one day at the tables outside the prison, he did something not many people did.

He asked you your favorite book series.

You were ecstatic, even though you realize this may not an invitation to explain to him every bit of lore of the story, you were happy he’d even put in the effort to ask. You tried to stay as calm as possible. “It’s called A Series of Unfortunate Events…it’s quite complicated…” You explain shyly, not having really opened up to him like that before. Sure you’d gone through a lot with him but you stayed quiet a lot of the time because of how discouraged you were by adults.

“Complicated? How so?” He questioned. Which is exactly what you wanted. Your eyes widen a bit but you try your best to stay calm so you don’t completely scare him off.

“Well how much do you wanna know, I mean it’s quite a lot it could take me hours to explain and I’d feel quite bad if you wanted like a quick synopsis and not an entire look on the lore and…” Your voice trails off when you realize you’d been rambling. He however was admiring you completely. He found you so refreshing. “I wanna hear everything.” He tells you. Again exactly what you wanted. Was he always so cute? Or is that something you’d just noticed?

“I guess I could start with the basic information, there’s three siblings right, theres Violet who’s the eldest sister and she’s an inventor, she always ties her hair up with this ribbon and that’s how you know she’s gonna make something good...” You continue to ramble and smile at little details you explain. “Then there’s the middle child, Klaus who’s a boy and he is very intelligent, he remembers basically anything ever told to him which I somewhat relate to considering I get really interested at certain things but anyway,” He giggles at you a bit, enjoying everything in front of him at the moment.

“They also have a little sister Sunny who’s just a baby but they understand everything she says and she has these teeth that are super sharp even though it’s just four but she could probably bite off a finger if she really wanted to.” His eyes widen a bit. “A finger? Wow…and only four teeth?” He inquired, very intrigued at what you’re saying.

You continue to talk to him a bit more, explaining a good amount of the plot to him and he listened intently. You’d stopped for dinner but continued to talk with him during. At some point, Daryl had to come and pry you away from him so you could actually go the hell to bed. Carl didn’t want you to go, you’d already gotten him invested and he wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing what happened next. He also wanted to just spend time with you.

“Cmon s’time for bed.” Daryl told you, you then turned to Carl and a small frown was displayed on his face. “We can talk again tomorrow morning…if you want.” He immediately nods. “Yes- yeah I’d love to.” Daryl looks between the both of you, knowing how much Carl had admired you. He also knew that if Carl was listening and wanting to know more, you’d also admire him just as much. You smile at him and nod. Daryl directs you in the way of the cells and he stays back to talk to Carl.

“You got somethin for my daughter?” He interrogated Carl for a moment. “W-what?” Daryl looks back at you to make sure you’re far enough before continuing. “Those books…she’s been dyin to talk to me about those since I found em for her. Haven’t had the time.” He explains. “No one else seems to want to hear about it. What’re you up to?” Carl tilts his head a bit. “I just wanted to know her favorite series…I suppose I enjoy hearing her talk.” He smiles.

So Daryl left him alone about it. He was glad to know you had someone to talk to while he was busy.

The next day at breakfast, you were eating while reading back at the benches. Once he gets his plate he walks over and sits across from you. His paper plate hit the table with a bit a thud and you notice, looking up from the book. “Oh…hey.” You look up at him and smile, he takes a moment to respond as he’s quite flustered to see your smile straight off the bat. “Hi…which one are you reading?” He points to your book.

“The twelfth book. I’m kinda sad about it though…” You give a small pout and he picks up a bit of bacon to take a bite. “Why, cause it’s gonna end?” He chews his food and waits for your reply. “That and I don’t have the last book.” You fold the page’s corner, sort of a way to mark your place. Carl takes note of that. He does however feel horrible that you’re missing the last book. “Oh really? I’m sorry…maybe we can make up our own ending. Once you explain the rest of it to me.” He does his best to cheer you up.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had to solve your problem. Although he was too young to go out scavenging, his best friend wasn’t. So after breakfast where you explained the second book to him, on his way to do his chores he stopped Michonne on her way out of the gate. “Do you think maybe if it’s not to big a deal you could stop at the library? I’m looking for a book.” He explains, not quite mentioning you currently. “Is this for your new old ‘friend’?” She questions, somewhat teasingly. He rolls his eyes but nods. “Yes. She’s missing the last book. The thirteenth.”

“The last book? Tragic. I know the series, I overheard your guys’ chats yesterday.” She smiles.

So she left and you didn’t see Carl till later that night in the cell block after dinner. He stopped by your cell with a small bag in his hands. He pushed the curtain open to see you lying on your stomach atop your bed, on the final pages of the twelfth book. “Almost done?” He sort of startled you but you immediately smile once you realize it’s him.

“Mhm.” His visit was rather unusual, usually you’d just talk to him during the day but not before bed. You sit up and make room for him to come sit beside you. “I got something for you.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a book, the thirteenth book. “‘The End?’ Really? How…I mean my dad’s been looking for it for me but-” You look up at him with a bright grin. You don’t really say anything before swiftly tackling him in a hug. He hugs you so tightly, all he wanted was to see you happy.

After pulling away from the hug, he reached back down into the back and pulled out a hook bookmark. It had a little arrow charm. Fitting for a Dixon to say the least.

“I mean…this makes sense.” You tell him, he laughs at your comment. “I just thought I’d have Michonne find you the last book. I’m quite invested in it myself. I love hearing you talk about it…I love hearing you talk.” He explains, sort of staring at you admiringly. You notice and look a tad skeptical, knowing there was something more appealing to him than just talking.

“I uh..I have a small crush on you…if that explains everything.” He admits, his face turning a light shade of pink.

You smile. “Yeah, I could tell.”

a/n: i thought this was quite fun to write, i love a series of unfortunate events muehehehe. anyway i hope this is what anon wanted, i did some good research for it to ensure it was okay :)) okay love u bye

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh

[mistressroxielove]

Hey everyone~ I'm back, and this time with a new fixation!

Long story short, I've discovered the new Fairly Oddparents reboot, absolutely loved it and was inspired to make this AU idea for the show! With a slight reimagine/redesign of the characters as well. And the first one I decided to do was Peri!

Here's some more info about my AU:

Fairly Odd Parents AU/Rewrite

Au Name: FairlyOdd Brother

Summary:

Perri (previously known as Poof) recently graduated from Fairy Godparents School and is eager to start granting Wishes for his very own godchild! Only problem is that with his lack of experience Jorgen is weary of giving him an assignment and keeps finding excuses/reasons to not give him a godkid. Realizing it might be a 1,000 years before they give him a chance to be a Fairy Godparent, Perri decides he needs to be a little bold and perhaps, bend Da Rules, to get his foot in the door so to speak. And his answer comes to him from a new neighbor in his human home, a family with a sweet shy 10 year old girl who is absolutely miserable. Perhaps Perri might be able to offer this girl a little comfort and fun as her new Fairy Godbrother!?

(Basically the same premise of the show, except Perri’s first godchild is Hazel, and through a technicality in the rule book, becomes her god brother instead of her godparent.)

ALSO please note this AU is more of a slight reimagine of the original show, meaning I did tweaked / changed some of the characters personality to match the new story I made for them. Nothing majorly different, but again just a heads up before you read on. Hope you like it~

Name: Hazel Wells

Age: 10

Sex: Female

Physical Description: 

Basically the same as the show's design, I slightly changed her shirt to become a sweater with a turtleneck. I sorta did that by accident when drawing her, but I ended up really liking the look and thought it matched the semi new personality I gave her so I kept it. 

Personality: 

-Hazel is a very sweet and kind person with some quirky interest, more or less similar to the canon version of her in the show

-The big difference between my Hazel and the shows is that she’s much more shy and awkward than in the actual show

-Feeling very out of place in a new city/school with her brother off at college and her parents working much more than usual has left the poor girl more shy and anxiety ridden than usual. 

-She still likes rocks and manga like in the show, but in her old school she was bullied and made fun of for her interest, so she’s more shy/embarrassed to admit what she likes

-But she still tries to be a good person and do the right thing whenever she can, just again she hindered by her shyness and fear of being bullied and made fun of, just wants to fit in and be an average kid

Other fun facts:

-Was bullied a lot in her last school, her parents and teacher tried to help her but despite their best effort it did little to stop the problem. It wasn’t until her older brother Anthony started to walk her to and from school that helped deter the other bullies from picking on her. Though Anthony meant well for helping his little sister, his method of helping her did little to teach Hazel how to actually stand up for herself and how to deal with bullies in general. Now without him around and her parents busy with their work, she is unintentionally thrown into a new situation with no social skills on how to defend herself from other people or how to even make any friends (she didn’t really have any of those back home). But perhaps with the help of a certain periwinkle fairy she might be able to learn to socialize and how to defend herself from bullies, and hopefully become just an average kid with friends and learn to thrive in the new city. 

-Essentially Peri is the one to teach and encourage her to be more bold, as he’s the one to really get her to make wishes freely and to try new things and to teach her to not be afraid of anyone or anything, slowly with his help she becomes more and more like the canon version of Hazel in the show. As Peri ends up being a good role model to her.   

Short summary of how she ended up with Peri:

Moving into a new city feeling all alone. Since her parents are excited to be here with both of them finally getting their dream jobs, Hazel tries to act ‘mature’ about the situation and tries to put on a brave face for her parents. But in reality is having a hard time in her new environment, as she finds herself in a new school and too shy to make friends, let alone talk to anyone. The only person talking to her is Dev who is supposedly ‘famous’ or something. (she doesn’t recognize him and doesn’t really acknowledge him, much to Dev’s surprise). 

If that wasn’t bad enough her parents are working much more at their new jobs and have essentially left her to be watched by the neighbor next door, a strange though friendly guy named Peri. She and Peri get along okay, and she’s mostly pushed through with the reminder that her brother will be visiting this weekend, and surely once she talks to him she’ll know everything will be just fine.

But things fall apart when being watched by Peri she gets a call from her brother stating due to the weather he won’t be able to visit this week and won’t be able to come up until at least his next break, Which is a couple months away! Distraught by this news Hazel prepares to pack up and leave to try and somehow get to her brother on her own, only to be stopped by her ‘babysitter’ who tries to reason with her and talk her out of it. Despite his usually persuasive ways she’s simply too upset to think straight and in a fit of frustration wishes she could just fly to Anthony. Which, similar to the actual show's first episode, causes Peri to turn her into a fly!  

The part of the episode happens similar to the original first episode, with Peri trying to get Hazel home before her parents come back from their work. He eventually does but again similar to the first episode Hazel gets stuck in a venus fly trap as Peri tries to get her to wish to turn back into her original form. After the talk with the ant Hazel realizes her mistake and finally wishes to become human again before her parents could discover what went wrong.

After the commotion, Hazel goes to Peri’s apartment to question who he is and what the heck just happened. Peri tries to deny it but during their conversation he realizes that technically speaking…..Hazel did have good and caring parents. They weren’t the reason why she was sad and miserable, she was miserable because her brother wasn’t with her anymore and she desperately missed him. And technically speaking, there was no rule or need to ask Jorgen or the fairy council to become a kids Godbrother. He only needed their permission to be a Godparent. And besides……..he more than understood the feeling of missing a big brother.

After talking and realizing just how miserable this poor girl was, Peri decides to take a gamble and formally introduce himself to her as her new Fairy Godbrother! In similar fashion to how he introduced himself to Dev in the original show. Making a promise to take Hazel from being a shy and scared girl into a brave and bold kid with lots of fun and magic along the way. 

Hazel, after the smoke and glitter shimmers away for the first time, feels pure joy at the sight, and for the first time feels confident and even excited for the future, and what this city and the people have to offer her! 

Sooooo ya, tell me what you guys think! Any questions or suggestions for the AU I would love to hear, good to be back!

Previous - Next

[meldarkthrop]

Thinking about how much I need the unedited full versions from Elucien's PoV:

• Lucien after tugging on the bond with Elain:

"...I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for.

• Elucien left alone 1.0:

And for once, my sister rose to her feet and came toward us, the three of us not so subtly heading upstairs. Leaving Lucien and Elain alone.

It was an effort not to linger atop the landing, to listen to what was said. If anything was said at all.

• Elucien left alone 2.0:

I was still mulling over all he said when I slipped into my tent to finally change out of my leathers, leaving him and Elain to go find a place to wash up. And talk—perhaps.

———

What did Lucien feel from Elain's side that made him blush?

What did Elain and Lucien talk about when they were left alone...twice?

Especially the last private conversation they had. Because from there, Elain has clearly withdrawn and become distant. Embarassment? Maybe her thoughts leaked out and Lucien felt it, making Elain ashamed, self conscious and...guilty. (That explains the blush from Lucien.) Because she was grieving so many things at once, and how dare she feel this way towards a stranger? Was it herself? Was it the bond? It seems perfectly understandable that she distanced herself and fixated on Azriel to reassure herself that she can be attracted to someone else; the bond doesn't force it. It's her choice.

SJM has only written endgames for mates. This could be her way of justifying and cementing the significance of a bond. That Feysand and Nessian fell in love despite the bond, not because of it. It's SJM's chance to prove once and for all that the concept of mates is the supreme romantic connection in her world, while also being a choice for the FMC.

Whether Elain was simply attracted to Azriel or it was a crush: it doesn't matter now. Because now Elain knows that her feelings are her choice. They cannot be manipulated by the bond, since she was attracted to someone else: Az. So now it leaves her journey with Lucien with at least slight clarity. Whatever attraction or feelings she may have felt/feels towards Lucien are her own. They will be her own feelings. Certainly not because of the bond. It establishes her autonomy.

Elain is taking her time but her journey and development will be in her book. She doesn't know Lucien yet. Lucien doesn't know her either. He has his own trauma and conflicting feelings just like Elain. That's what their book is for: their growth and tension filled, healing journey together.

Oh, their book is going to be the angstiest one in the series.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the mysterious blonde (PART 1)

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you are gigi’s best friend and you go over to her house to work on a school project, only to meet her mysterious brother who popped up a couple of months ago and turns out he’s just your type

parts: PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

warnings: it’s long

a/n: actually forgive me because this story is so long, don’t ask me why I got too carried away. there are two more parts as well if you make it through this and actually end up enjoying it. thank you for reading, requests are always open xx

tag list: there is no tag list but let me know if you want to be on it :)

Gigi and I trudge out of double history, so exhausted we look like we’re about to flop onto the floor. I actually think we might.

“That was the longest few hours of my life,” she says to me, her wide eyes almost look sad.

“Literally,” I groan, “why didn’t time seem to move?”

“I don’t know but my brain feels like mush,” she replied, rubbing her temples.

“I can second that,” I sigh.

“And all that homework she gave us! What was all that about?” my best friend exclaims, probably the closest to anger I’ll ever see her.

“I don’t even want to know,” I roll my eyes, “this subject is killing me, why did we even take history?”

“Because we have to,” she deadpans.

I groan aloud again, “this is so stupid.”

“You know saying it’s stupid is not going to change our position,” she tells me, putting an arm around my shoulder.

“I know, I know, but it feels good,” I explain.

“Yeah it does,” Gigi agrees, coming to a sudden halt before yelling , “this is stupid!”

The sound of her voice bounced off of the walls of the now lonely corridor that had been deserted at lunch hour. We continue walking.

“See?” I say, folding my arms across my chest, “feels good does it?”

“Better than peanut butter and jelly cookies,” she says, then pauses, “wait maybe not…”

I wrinkled my nose, “peanut butter and jelly cookies? That’s a low standard, literally anything is better.”

Gigi stops in her tracks, causing me to almost fall over. She stares at me, her face a mix of shock, horror and disbelief as she says, “You’re kidding me, right?”

I stare at her and cautiously answer, “…no?”

“Why are we even friends?” she asks.

The question takes me so off guard that I don’t get time to process it properly before I answer, “What?”

“You don’t like peanut butter and jelly cookies,” she states, “so why are we even friends?”

“Oh my gosh you’re going to disown me as a friend because I don’t like a cookie,” I ask flatly.

“It’s not just a cookie,” she says, a dangerously threatening glint in her eyes that I wasn’t familiar, “take that back. Right now.”

I hold my hands up in mock surrender, “I apologise to you and your love for peanut butter and jelly cookies.”

“Okay,” she smiles as we begin to walk again, “friendship sorted.”

I scoff and shake my head, not helping the smile on my face. We walk to the canteen together and grab our food. We don’t have the energy or effort to carry on conversation seen a history had sucked us dry of any joy or potential excitement to talk. We grab our food and sit where we always do in the summertime. Outside there’s a small wall tucked away. We climb up it as usual and each our lunch there, it’s much more peaceful than dealing with everyone else. Gigi looks as if she’s very fixated on the football game occurring on the field so I let my mind wander. I chew thoughtfully on some dry school bread, brainstorming ideas for the history project we’d just been set. It was only then I notice the absence Gigi’s sister.

“Where’s Savannah?” I suddenly ask.

“Oh I forgot, she’s playing at basketball tournament today,” Gigi replies, a cheerful undertone in her voice.

“That’s amazing,” I say, my eyes wide, “I hope she does well.”

“She will,” Gigi shrugs, “she always does.”

I smile, admiring Gigi’s purest and truest of faith for her sister. Savannah had always been super talented at basketball, on every team and the best one there. Me and Gigi would often go and watch her games, cheering annoyingly loudly from the side lines earning us both dirty looks from the pair of piercing grey eyes that belonged to Savannah. Though we all knew deep down she secretly loved the crazy support even if it did drive her up the wall.

“Hey wanna work on the project at mine later,” Gigi asks suddenly.

“Yeah sure,” I shrug, “I’ve got some of the stuff at my house, I’ll dash home get ready and bring them after school.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she nods, smiling from ear to ear.

“Great,” I smile back.

“Oh by the way, my brother will be there,” she adds quickly, testing the water to see if it might alter my decision.

“What the mystery one that popped out of nowhere that everyone calls the male version of Savannah?” I ask.

Gigi had told me about her mystery brother. When she went M.I.A for a whole week I had panicked like crazy. And that girl cannot lie to save her life. She explained all the happenings to me and I didn’t say a word to anyone. Though I’d never met the infamous Grayson Hawthorne. I didn’t even know he really existed before Gigi told me about him. Of course, I’d hear the name in passing due to the inheritance of a certain seventeen year old girl but other than that I never really knew who he was before Gigi.

“That would be the one,” she grins, swinging her legs up and down, “he always comes for dinner on Wednesdays.”

“Oh,” I say quickly, “don’t want to intrude on family stuff.”

Gigi and Savannah were close and they were close with their mother as well. I didn’t want to get in the way of spending time with their new found brother. Gigi had only ever told me good things about him but Savannah never talked of it much. She avoids the topic like the plague so I never asked. Secretly I think she really loves him.

“Oh no he won’t mind,” Gigi shrugs.

“Are you sure Gigi because-“

“Y/N I’m sure,” she says seriously putting her hands on my shoulders.

I nod and the bell goes off. I sigh, just have to get through the afternoon now.

***

As soon as school is over, I rush home and jump in the shower, flinging on the first clothes I find in my drawer. I fill a tote bag with bits and bobs we might need as well as some chocolate covered pretzels because Gigi goes feral for them. I leave my house, and just as I’m locking the door I get a text. My eyes flick to my phone, Gigi has sent a cat meme, of course. I open it to find a little tabby cat staring at me with its tongue stuck out with the text attached reading ‘where are you??’. I giggle and shake my head and drop a quick text back to tell her I’m on the way.

***

After a few buses and too much power walking for one girl, I arrive at the door breathless. I make a mental note that I need to workout more. I give the door a quick knock and wait awkwardly outside.

It swings open within a few minutes revealing a grinning Gigi, “Y/N!”

“Hey Gigi,” I say, giving her a quick hug as we step in.

“It’s like you guys haven’t been together all day,” comes another voice.

My head whips around to see familiar grey eyes and two blonde braids.

“Savannah!” I exclaim, rushing towards her and pulling her into an embrace

“Hey,” she laughs, hugging me back.

“How was your tournament?” I ask her.

“We won,” she shrugs as if it’s nothing, though it probably was to her.

“Of course,” I say, tilting my head, “sorry we couldn’t be there.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” she replies, “besides it was nice not having two maniacs howling your name.”

I turn to Gigi, “I think she just admitted she missed us.”

“She did, didn’t she?”

“Whatever helps you guys sleep at night,” Savannah says coolly, “heard about your history project, good luck, I’m glad it’s you and not me,”

“Thanks Sav,” I say sarcastically.

“You are so welcome Y/N,” she grins, ruffling my hair.

“And this is Grayson, my mysterious brother who pretends to be moody all of the time,” Gigi explains, gesturing to a boy.

Well I should say a man because holy mother of all saints and lords… he had the most gorgeous face I’ve ever laid eyes on. He was the pinnacle of perfection and so radiantly beautiful. He practically glowed. His hair was golden like some sort of buried treasure that glistened in the right lighting. He was tall and muscular, that was obvious even through his suit. A pretty face and a fit physique, it was a win win. I hadn’t even noticed he’d been standing there cautiously watching my interactions with his sisters. When our eyes met my legs almost buckled. They were a stormy grey that left me senseless. My heart thumped in my chest and butterflies flew up my stomach every which way. I could see his resemblance with Savannah but there were so many differences that made him… him.

“Hi,” I smile, trying not to blush or sound stupid, dismally failing at both and mentally ticking this off as one of my top ten most embarrassing moments of my whole life entire life.

“Hello Y/N,” he replies, not exactly smiling but not straight faced, somewhere in between, “I can assure you I do not pretend to be moody all of the time no matter what my sister has told you.”

His voice is so mellow it could melt butter with one sound.

“He does,” Gigi whispers loudly enough for him to hear

“It’s okay,” I say to Grayson, “I’m sure you don’t.”

“Gigi’s told me so much about you, it’s nice to finally meet you in person,” he says

I try to not act too surprised at the thought of Gigi telling her brother all about me. I make a mental note to talk to her about it later.

“You too,” I nod with another sweet smile

I was smiling so much my jaw started to ache. I notice Savannah slip away, most likely to go and relax her muscles after the tournament today. I look back to Grayson.

“Well I’ll let you guys get on,” he nods, like a man of business.

I nod and smile shyly. He returns the smile and Gigi takes my hand and pulls we towards the staircase. I get one last glimpse of him and then we’re gone. As we walk up the stairs I struggle to get Grayson out of my head, he’s like an annoying catchy song or advert repeating in a vicious circle… except it’s not annoying when I get to envisage his face. I shake my head and push him out of my mind, I cannot find him attractive, he’s Gigi’s brother for goodness’s sake.

“So now you’ve met my infamous secret brother,” Gigi smirks, nudging me.

“Now I have,” I nod, smiling.

“So now you officially know every inch of my life,” she tells me as we reach her bedroom door, “it’s kind of creepy when you think of it.”

“Then let’s not,” I shrug as we walk in.

We set up together on the floor and that’s when I pull out the bag of treats I’d bought for my addict of a friends. As soon as her eyes connect with the packaging they almost bulge out of her skull.

“You bought chocolate covered pretzels!” she screams, joy and awe written all over her face.

“Obviously,” I roll my eyes, handing her the bag.

“You are officially my favourite best friend ever,” she squeals, hugging them to her chest, like a mother would her child.

“Aren’t I your only best friend?” I say.

“Well yeah, but still…” Gigi trails off, as she opens the bag, “want one?”

“They’re all yours Gigi,” I tell her.

She hesitates for a moment, “Are you sure?”

“Very,” I reassure her, attempting to organise some of notes into piles.

“I’m paying you back,” she says confidently.

“Have fun trying,” I tease her, poking my tongue out,

“I will find a way,” she replied, determination thick in her voice.

Gigi and I only ever argued when it came to paying for things. We both were constantly trying to pay the other back for the 2 dollars they needed for a coffee or the movie tickets from the week before. But I’d gotten very inventive in preventing Gigi from paying me back.

“Sure you will sweetie,” I patronise her.

She ignores me, popping one of her chocolate covered pretzels into her mouth. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back and savours the taste.

“That is so amazingly yum,” she whispers.

“I’m glad,” I grin, “now come on. We have work to do.”

We work on the project for so long we lose track of time. Through giggles and shouts and possibly a few tears that neither of us will admit tomorrow, we’d gotten just short of halfway done. That is when Savannah calls us for dinner. Both in shock that we’d actually worked, made progress and managed to forget the time we go downstairs.

“You do realise that you both never shut up right?” Savannah says as we enter the room.

“Sorry,” I grin sheepishly, tucking the loose stands of hair behind my ears.

“I think it’s a good thing,” Gigi counters, “I like to talk.”

“Don’t we know it,” her sister rolls her eyes, sitting down at the table.

Four plates of streaming food sit on the table and we all take our places. Grayson joins us and sits down beside Savannah opposite me. I try not to hold my eyes on him for too long so it didn’t seem like I was staring but I couldn’t help but steal myself one glance. I’m driving myself crazy thinking about how my hand might fit perfectly into his and his pretty pretty mouth or that one tiny freckle just below his eyebrow, that I’d convinced myself I was the first to notice. I also really wanted this guys hair routine because his hair looked so silky and soft.

“How’s the project going?” Savannah asks over the clanging of silverware on plates.

“Good,” Gigi replies and then rethinks the decision, “I think.”

“We’re nearly halfway finished,” I explain, “but there’s a lot to do.”

“So much!” she groans, tipping her head back.

“What teacher do you have again?” Savannah asks us.

“Ms Harrison,” Gigi replies.

Savannah often wasn’t in our classes due to her extended sports timetable, so we didn’t have a lot of the same teachers. It was always kind of lonely without her.

She screws her face up, “I hate that woman.”

“She treats her subject like her child,” I roll my eyes, laughing.

“I mean when am I ever going to use history in my real life?” Gigi asks.

“You might need it in your job?” I shrug, taking a sip of water.

“As if,” she replies, giving me the look.

“What do you want to do Y/N?”

My head whips up and I stare directly at Grayson. His voice startles me. I’d almost forgotten he was there. It takes me far too long to process the question before I make some sort of awkward blubbering sound as I try and work out what to say.

“With what?” I blurt out, sounding really unsophisticated.

“Your life,” he clarifies.

My mind races at one hundred miles an hour, “big question…” I nervously giggle, “…erm I don’t really know,”

“Oh?” he replied, eyebrows slightly raised in… surprise, disapproval, shock?? I couldn’t tell he was almost impossible to read. I just wanted the ground to swallow me up from this embarrassment.

“I mean I don’t have a set plan,” I say quickly trying to patch things up, “I want to do something that makes me happy.”

“What makes you happy?”

“Stop questioning her Gray,” Gigi interrupts, “you’re creeping her out.”

I feel my cheeks heat up and I look down, suddenly taking an interest in the intricacy of the tablecloth.

“Sorry,” Grayson says. I couldn’t see his face but I would assume from his tone that he was also finding the tablecloth interesting right about now.

“No it’s fine,” I say, my eyes darting up for a millisecond and then straight back down.

There’s an uncomfortable silence and nothing can be heard. Not even breathing.

“Have you seen the new frappuccino on the menu at the coffee shop around the corner?” Gigi asks, breaking the deadly silence, “I think it’s honey and gingerbread.”

The conversation picks back up from there but Grayson doesn’t really make conversation after that. When dinner is over, we all clean up, mostly in silence. There were pockets of small talk here and there but not much. When we’re almost done, I make eye contact with Savannah and she gives me a look. A furrow my brows confused and tilt my head. She shakes her head, rolling her eyes slightly. She takes me by the arm and leads me into the bathroom.

“Savannah? What is this?” I ask her, absolutely baffled, “because it’s starting to feel like one of those murder mysteries except it’s not a mystery to me if I’m the one being murdered.”

“I’m not going to murder you,” she scoffs, “and if I was I would do it in a much classier way.”

“Oh thanks,” I say, sarcastically, “so why have you dragged me in here, please.”

“We need to talk,” she says, a serious look in her eyes.

I suddenly feel an odd sense of dread building up inside but laugh it off and attempt to make a joke, “look if you want to break up-“

She flashes a grin and then her face goes serious again. I suddenly get a wave of nervousness come over me and my brain flicks through every possible thing I could’ve messed up in the past few weeks.

“Why is it Sav? Did I do something?” I ask, concerned and scared.

“Can you stop eyeball flirting with my brother,” Savannah deadpans, “it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“What!?” I yell without thinking, before my hands fly to my mouth when I realise how loud I’ve been.

She sighs and starts to repeat her sentence, “can you stop eyeball-“

“I heard you the first time,” I tell her.

“Good, now can you?” Savannah asks, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back against the wall.

“I’m not eyeball flirting with anyone?” I hiss at her, maybe a bit too defensively.

“Okay, if you say so,” she says, “so can you stop ‘not eyeball flirting’ with my brother.”

“I can’t stop something I’m not doing,” I argue.

She stares at me, “you don’t want to fall for him.”

Her face doesn’t match her tone, it isn’t angry or aggressive, it’s concerned and worried.

“I’m not falling for him,” I reply softly, putting my hand on her arm, “I’ve barely met the poor guy.”

“He’s not a ‘poor guy’ by any long shot,” she laughs bitterly, “and if you think you like him, don’t. It’s a horrible road to go down.”

“Savannah I don’t like-“

“I know you,” she says sharply, stopping me mid sentence.

She’s right. She did know me. And I did like her brother… but she didn’t have to know just yet.

“He’s attractive, sure,” I shrug, trying to act cool and collected about the whole affair, “but it’s not like that.”

“Good,” Savannah says.

“Can we leave the almost murder scene now?” I joke, a smirk playing on my lips.

She rolls her eyes and shoves my shoulder playfully, “oh leave off.”

a/n: well done you made it to the end 😭😭 I’m so sorry but it’s not even over… PART 2 is coming up :) and I promise it’s more interesting that this part…

(this was originally just going to be one long piece of writing but I’ve split it into two now)

… more fics on my TIG masterlist

[vegaseatsass]

Rewatched My Stand-In eps 2 and 3 tonight, and I'm definitely newly fascinated with Ming POV/Ming's internal concept of what was happening between him and Joe that entire time. I forgot just how much we got of Ming's home life and family in episode 2, and my brain is abuzz trying to connect all the dots. His relationship with May is so interesting. She clocks that he and Joe are together on Christmas, and is immediately careful to conceal it not just from their parents but from Tong. May and Ming have this "us against the world" vibe where they protect and cover for each other, going back to May giving herself pneumonia saving Ming from drowning. I absolutely believe there's more going on in their family than mom pressuring Ming to marry women any time he goes home - I actually suspect things about his family are being obscured for future painful reveals - but May is a safe space for him. Until Tong is added into the picture, and Ming has to flee the country for four years to get away from his big feelings. It's just kind of bonkers to me that he had this intense, safe and presumably very grounding relationship with his sister, but made his obsession with a random movie star the centerpiece of his world instead. Why did he imprint on Tong? Is it really just Joe's sexy back muscles that drew him in? Did he think if he could land a famous movie star his parents would accept him being with a man? Was it subconscious self-sabotage of his only safe relationship lol? I genuinely have no idea!! What I am stuck on though is when he told May he was working through something, and would tell her when he was ready, but he promised he'd get through it. On rewatch, it seems very obvious that what he's talking about is the torch he's carrying for Tong, so to me that's a reveal that he's deliberately trying to move on with Joe - not using him as a sex doll replacement, but throwing himself into something real. (What's messy obviously is that Ming started this for the proxyfucking, but I think overhearing Joe confess his love for Ming to Sol is when Ming started making a determined effort to choose Joe.) There's also his reaction to Joe's Christmas gift where the watch becomes a metaphor for Joe himself (vs. Tong): Ming doesn't need the "top" one, why can't he want the "normal" one?

The first time I was watching this, I assumed that Ming just has no internal awareness of how important Joe is to him, he just feels pure need and acts very very normal when his emotional support stand-in is ripped away. I assumed Ming believes he's in love with Tong and thinks he's just passing some time with Joe. It doesn't help that every time Joe presses him on anything emotional Ming shuts him down or outright negs him lolllll

But like for example, in the scene where they're shopping together and Joe gets excited about the couple mugs, first Ming snaps "What makes you think we're a couple?", then he tries to mitigate his slip by playing it off: "after living with me, you'll realize you don't want me as a boyfriend." His kneejerk impulse to shut Joe down and say cruel things is imo a defense mechanism, a really maladaptive one that helps convince Joe later on that there was never any love there, but I'm starting to think it's triggered in response to actually wanting the intimacy and primacy that Joe is pushing for, and being terrified of that.

It would make so much sense for somebody who is terrified of needing anybody else, of being vulnerable or feeling anything real, to decide they're in love with a complete asshole movie star who uses their family for money and them personally for favors, and shape their life around that. Especially now that I understand how young Ming was when he first fixated on Tong (17ish??), I just feel like that entire imprinting is your classic teenager-who-is-not-ready-to-be-in-a-real-relationship parasocial spiral. I used to do it with male celebrities too!!! (I am a lesbian. lmfaooo)

It's interesting because while there's something conceptually romantic about the back Ming first got obsessed with being Joe's all along, it ultimately doesn't really matter to me WHO the onscreen person that he fixated upon was. What matters is how ill-equipped Ming has proven to handle real feelings for a real person in front of him, and the journey he has from here to learn how to human. I can't wait. P.S. Other thing I forgot happened in episode 2: - Ming made drunk!Joe sleep on the floor of Joe's own home - BEFORE Ming moved in or had any claim to the space - AFTER Ming told Sol he would take "really really good care of Joe" as a way of trying to claim Joe in front of the competition His journey to human is going to be a loooooooooooooooooong one, methinks... 😈

[sepublic]

I find Eda stomping Belos to death to be especially satisfying, because she was always dismissed as a necessary casualty of his pursuits; Not worth his time, an obstacle he flippantly makes suffer before moving on to what he really wants, leaving Eda behind as Belos forgets about her.

Things like Eda being an ignored victim of the coven system, a kid cursed because of Belos’ indirect actions, yet not worthy of his attention; He took Lilith from her. He got her sister to betray and harass Eda, leading to her loss of magic. All this for the portal, while dismissing Eda’s life as inconsequential to him; Belos doesn’t care about her, she just has something he wants, while he fixates on Luz and reduces Eda to a bargaining chip, halfway petrifying her!

He cast the draining spell that Eda tries to stop, leading to the loss of her arm, while Belos isn’t even around to witness. All while acting as if his curse, which he has more control over and brought upon himself, gives him an excuse!

Belos has borderline intimately ruined Eda’s life, she in particular has suffered from his cruelty, before even being born; A descendant who lost her ancestor Caleb to him! Whose father got disabled, so neither she nor Dell could continue palismen carving, even as the palistrom wood was depleted; Depriving Eda of a valuable family tradition, just after she got the hope to pick it up after reconciling with her father!

Belos took Raine from Eda, forced them to push her aside despite all her efforts to reconnect; He turned Eda into a laughingstock by claiming her loss of magic as a punishment by the Titan, ruining any credibility she had as a rebel! No portal, no beloved trash nor income, and thus a struggle with poverty... Eda lost her community, the love of her life due to insecurity over the curse, even her mother because of Gwen’s misguided attempts to cure it; These led Gwen to sell family heirlooms, Eda lost contact with her entire family because of Belos! All of her loved ones and childhood friends, like Perry, Darius, or Alador! And after rebuilding by starting a new family with King and Luz, Belos traumatizes and murders Eda’s child right in front of her.

All this pain by someone who sees Eda as just another witch to sacrifice out of countless, all so Belos can be the hero; Something he hypocritically accuses Luz of doing. A side character in his manipulations of those he met centuries ago, who inadvertently helped Philip find the Collector; Luz and Lilith. But in his fixation on them, he never quite gave Eda the respect as a person he wronged, as the villain of her story... Belos obsessed over Luz as his arch-nemesis, but missed Eda as an enormous threat he created, the one Belos hurt and radicalized, who taught Luz!

And boy did Eda remind Belos of this. He thinks he’s better than this? Well Eda finds this scenario perfectly, fittingly satisfying!

[ay0nha]

When shall we meet again in thunder, lightning, or rain? | S.G. (ii)

prologue, part i

SUMMARY: “And here I thought, I was the only one that did.” He returned to his baseline: toeing the line between mocking and playful. "Don't you get tired of being alone? Or are you too good for that?"

PAIRING: Satoru Gojo x Fushiguro!reader (Megumi's aunt/Toji's sister)

WORD COUNT: 2.1K~

WARNINGS: slight enemies to lovers, a bit of a mean!gojo, ANGST HEAVY, Tsumiki in her coma, angsty convos and feelings, slight TOUCH STARVED gojo, panic attack descriptions, canon-typical things, rushed ending, etc.

A/N: This took longer than I thought, but I want to take my time and really put effort into this one, so I hope you all enjoy. BIG shout out to @hatsunemitskislobotomy this wouldn't have happened without your help. Much love. Again, based on/inspired by @stsgooo's post (here!). Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future parts.

COMMENTS ENCOURAGED. !!! PLEASE !!!

TAGS: @96jnie, @stevenknightmarc

“Miss Fushiguro?” 

“Yes?” You missed the first call of your name but stood the moment you heard it again. “That’s me.”

The friction of the chair against the linoleum scratched at your spine. The noise only brought attention, adding to the clashing of sounds around you: infants crying, uncovered coughs, and monotonous voices over the intercom drowned out by the emergency room chatter.

The blood that had rushed to your head created a beautiful constellation for you to follow. It led you down the narrow hallway to a room reserved for your five-minute slot. The turnover was quick; wounds, infections, and sickness organized the people. 

You were still figuring out where you fit in this categorization. Months of the same routine dulled your senses. 

“Seems she’s still doing well…” The nurse’s tired eyes scanned the scantily filled-out paperwork, just as they always had. She led you deeper into the maze of beeping monitors and desperate complaints.  “The doctor will be in soon to see you.”

The nurse that had brought you back looked at you with tired eyes. It was as if she went to say something but deflated once she lost the energy to you—the transfer only agitated you further. 

The room was sterile, its stark smell overwhelming your senses. Yet, the stillness was baneful. 

Tsumki looked cold layered under the hospital blankets. The cheap fabric was without wrinkles, perfectly tucked around her body. Tendrils of hair swirled around her head like a misplaced crown. If it weren’t for the soft hum of machines tracking her vitals, you’d mistake her motionless state for rigor mortis. 

Even when the doctor came to update you on Tsumiki’s catatonic state, your mind failed to make sense of it all. She was so far removed from the world you were excluded from, and yet, she was touched so violently by it. 

It’s not fair, you thought. Your eyes were devoid and steadily ahead, fixated on the rise and fall of her chest. It’s not fair. 

Selfish.  Your own voice echoed in your mind, scolding you for the thoughts that came forth. 

Even if you said it aloud—your desire to trade places—it would seem altruistic, a sacrifice for the bigger picture. It would hide the envy in your heart. You wanted to be relieved from the world so completely, so idly, that you could finally have a moment to catch your breath. 

Now, your breath was filled with guilt and stuck. Your control was tight, trying not to crack. 

Everything pierced you; Megumi’s clothes fought against his growth, the school begged you to intervene with his attitude, and the pressure on his shoulders weighed him

of his abilities seep into everything he touched. 

It didn’t matter if you couldn’t keep up. You weren’t allowed to crumble. If you did, everything would be taken from you before you could let out your breath. You didn’t know life without that tight inhale. 

It was all you knew. 

You were afraid of anything different, but you would never fully realize that. Nor would you accept that it was stillness that you sought, not of Tsumiki’s body, but her mind. Only in this quiet did her brain, once wild and still forming during waking hours, cool itself into something calm.

“Chin up.” A familiar voice called with inappropriate joy. Gojo entered with a confidence that ignored the dense air of malaise. 

You dismissed the instruction, not caring that his appearance was so sudden. You’d grown accustomed to your time never truly belonging to you. 

“Doctor said she’s doing great. Brain activity and all of that.” He waved vaguely, his other hand permanently calm and tucked away in his pocket. “You, though—” He tutted, head tilting with childish mockery “—rumor going ’round you live here...”

You weren’t blind to the way the nurses looked at you. They believed you resembled a fraying string, each visit splintering you further. However, they had the decency to look past the fact, unlike the man dwelling in your shadow.

“...better off getting a job…” Gojo continued, knowingly filling the silence. His finger glided along the windowsill, in search of non-existent dust. Every twitch was subtle arrogance. 

He had yet to see how your breath was tight, consuming most of your senses. You sunk your nails into your palm, holding onto what was left of your dignity. Grief was reserved for those who deserved it.

You breathed with stale disappointment. “Leave, Gojo.”

Since Tsumiki’s curse, you'd have limited conversation with him. It was a reminder of the anger you held at the broken promise he’d made to keep you all safe. You were naive to believe even the strongest there was could be capable of that. 

Tsumiki was your world. Blood never mattered as she was as much yours and you were hers. She endured it all with a smile that you struggled to match, you could never make it reach your eyes the way she had. 

He knew this. 

Yet, it was like you were only partly there, a piece of your mind eons and eons away, somewhere in a place that let you justify your loneliness.

It oozed from every pore of you, always. You’d been soaking in it for years, unknowingly most of the time, too preoccupied with ignoring your own humanity and trying to convince everyone else around you that you were anything but that. 

“I’ve been told to give consideration to my audience…” Gojo scratched at his cheek with jaded thought. His patience was flippant and the advice was taken at half-value from Nanami. “...you make that so hard to do when you pretend I don’t care—

Your laugh was shallow, his so-called wisdom meaningless to you.  “Caring never suited you, so don’t hurt yourself trying.”

“Like you?” Gojo frowned, sanitizing the situation. Your pain was tangible. “No one could have known this would happen, but avoiding us won’t change that.”

“Us?” Another laugh. It was always we and us when it was for his advantage. The idea stung; that every interaction the two of you had led into disarray. “Megumi has nothing—

“Megumi—” Gojo shifted, tentative with his interruption. It was inevitable for the exchange to turn sour, he invited it in the moment he found you. He hoped it wouldn’t have plummeted so quickly. “He’s worried about you.”

You could have denied it, blaming his fear on his age, but Megumi was far from naive. You could have lied, let words tumble past your lips until your answer was deemed sufficient. However, the truth surfaced with stark malice. 

“He’ll learn to live without me.” Just as you would. It was inevitable. It was fate; determined the moment his father died only secured when Gojo supported Megumi’s talent. 

It was only then you realized the lack of barrier between you and Gojo. All six eyes were trapping you, desperately searching for any affection lingering from the past. 

There was a time when you let him in. When trust was implied, Gojo’s dedication was clear in how he carried Megumi on his shoulders and always reached out for Tsumiki’s hand. His teasing dared you to match him, to look forward to his company in a way that was reserved only for him. 

Your hesitancy was a feat to grow past, but Gojo planted himself so firmly you stopped caring. It worked slowly, seeping into everyday life only to cease entirely the moment Tsumiki found the bridge. 

Gojo’s world hadn’t stopped like yours. Its velocity was unbeatable while the quicksand pulled you under. If he had seen you were a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings, maybe things would have turned out a little differently. Maybe there wouldn’t be an empty place within you where your heart once was. 

“I’m—” Gojo whispered, eyes unrelenting in luring something out. He stopped himself to wet his lips, a poor stalling tactic.“Ever since—” He paused. “What can I say for you to let me…”

The soft clattering of the hospital finished his question, answering for you as well. 

You weren’t sure there were any words that could comfort you. Looking at Tsumiki again, you pulled a shaky breath through your nose. She was stable, Gojo firm on proper care. There would be a day when this was the past and Gojo was willing to guide you there. 

“Gojo, really—everything is… visiting hours are going to be over soon” You suppressed the quiver in your voice. “I’ll be okay,” you said. “I’m just having a d–a week.” A month, a year, a life.

 Reluctantly, you met his gaze. The heavy fatigue won. Your resistance had faded almost entirely. It was how Gojo knew you were lying. 

“I’ve talked to Yaga.” The conversation he’d been skirting around finally surfaced, it was the reason he needed to talk to you. “There’s plenty of space for you to join us.” 

“I’m not like you.” Your admission was breathless. “That place isn’t fun for people like me, Gojo.”

You hated the way Gojo posture straightened barely, protectively. It encouraged your frown. 

“They won’t touch you—”

“You think this is about the Zenins?” You had never meant to become the villain. You just didn't know what else to do. “You don’t get it do you?” 

Your curiosity bore a dark meaning, filling the cracks between you with a sticky tar that effortlessly glided off his ego but against yours, you couldn’t quite scrub away. 

“And here I thought, I was the only one that did.” He returned to his baseline: toeing the line between mocking and playful. "Don't you get tired of being alone? Or are you too good for that?"

Gojo held your glare with softness. Its intent wasn’t to make you squirm, but it had. You wanted to fight, a reason to retaliate. But he knew you well, understood you still, and knew what it meant to distance yourself with well-earned vexation. 

“Let sleeping dogs lie.” You bit back carefully, a baseless threat as your waterline threatened tears. ​​

You knew it was important to remain as blase as possible so you didn’t cry. Although, you didn’t really cry anymore. Even when you wanted to, the tears never came. At some point, you must’ve reached your lifetime limit. 

The silence was pregnant: her contractions and your combined breathing intensify and climb and climb and climb, the pains threatening to tear her apart and birth something truly horrendous out into this world.

It would be an abomination, you realized.

The heat began to spread through your body, it felt like the walls were closing in, like you were going to explode. You began to stare off into space, as though you were distancing yourself from reality, your body tense, gearing for a fight. 

Gojo stared, dumbfounded, into your glassy eyes until you broke the spell by speaking, voice nothing but a broken rasp. “I can’t breathe, Satoru…”

You squeezed your eyes shut, bit your tongue. All you could hear was the screeching sound of the machines filling your ears, and the hospital corridor beyond you was now a blur. 

Your knees wobbled, and Gojo caught you tightly, taking on your weight. 

A soft breath left him, arms precariously placed out of defensiveness around your figure. His body knew before him to release his technique. He can't remember the last time somebody touched him who wasn't you, not for years now. It's an amicable casualness he can't explain away. 

“I can never breathe.” Your heart felt permanently caught in your throat.You just shook his head, tired and defeated. The words have lived inside you for a while. “I just can’t do it anymore—my body—”

Hyper vigilance became the enemy that threatened to consume you whole. Sleep was no longer negotiable. Every movement dragged worry, invited agitation, and controlled your sabotage. 

“Easy. Easy…” Gojo’s skin pricked as if you’d shocked him.  It was like his senses had become heightened to how closely you were now leaning into him.

The skin of your chest tingled. You felt paralyzed. Yet, Gojo’s touch slithered around you, kneading out every hitch. You looked more sorry than you should, believing that you're a burden on him when you aren’t—you're a lightness he’s missed. 

“The world is too big…” Gojo continued with a low note in his voice that made you wonder just how much he understood you. “It’s so large, no breath feels quite deep enough.”

Just like always, he seemed to read what you didn't say. 

You swallow heavily, your nose kissing his shoulder. It was so soft, feather-light pressure but it surged through your body all the same. Pain came and faded. No blood rushing in your ears, no beating heart. You’re too tired, in every sense of the word, to ask for what you wanted.

You stay wrapped in his arms for a long time. Long enough to think about how you might never get to do this again, and you suddenly want him in all the ways you never had him, and all the ways you had.

[crispyanonart]

I just wanna thank you for being so lovely about the Maru/Seb dynamic 😭 I'm so tired of people babying Seb when he also needs to work on stuff and blaming Maru for his inability to (esp since I agree with you that she's trying to be a good sister and looks up to him). As someone also from a funky fam situation, it means so much to me to see the healing that can happen between siblings. It makes my heart warm to read your HCs 💖

I'm so so happy to hear this 🥹🖤 I love myself a classic trope but what I love even more are complex and nuanced characters ↓

[I'm so passionate about this because I experience my media consumption in a cathartic way - I tend to fixate with characters I relate to (as most people do I think), and growing up I found out that it's immensely healing to love and see other people love said characters. They are flawed yet can be adored by many - so what if I too am worthy of love and appreciation despite everything? Following this discovery I truly started to appreciate more and more complex characters and relationships (or headcanons if the source media isn't as deep), it really is more enjoyable and realistic this way for me.]

I love Sebastian (anyone can tell by looking at my blog lmao) and it would be so boring and reductive for everyone involved to think that he's just a poor guy who never did anything wrong and that the rest of his family are villains. Especially Maru, since she's clearly the one family member making the most efforts towards him. Sebastian IS babygirl and he CAN be held accountable, these two facts aren't mutually exclusive, and from here the resolution is much more satisfying and consistent too!! Especially in a family dynamic where one feels like they don't belong, siblings can be the strongest allies - I'll never shut up about this oh my god 😭

[testingthewatersss]

Kissing Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. this one is actually pretty tame tbhBucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 3000 words fluff, angst, comfort & kissing. 18+ MDNI  Bucky can't stop thinking about kissing. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

Kissing is something that Bucky has been fixated on for months, now.

He’s been out of the grips of HYDRA and settled into the tower for just long enough for his mind to be wondering away from the terrors that have been plaguing him ever since he’d first been dragged out of a cryo tank with blood that was on fire, and an arm that wasn’t his own.

At first, the breaks from panic had been so far and few between that he’d quarantined himself in his newly renovated bedroom and only dared to let himself within one metre of Steve, in case he suddenly forgot where he was and caused some kind of irreparable damage, but then, he’d met her…

He hadn’t meant to. He’d made every effort to avoid running into Tony’s younger sister, but then, when he had finally decided to eat, he’d snuck out of his room at three am, and he’d found her, messy haired and sketching at the breakfast bar, he’d been too stunned to run, so he stayed, and despite his initial reservations she’d rapidly become one of the only people in the world that he genuinely trusts.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” she coos, beaming at him from across the counter, “you’re starring.”

He is starring— She’s beautiful, kind, and patient, and her face is being lit by the sunlight that is just starting to pour in through the big glass windows, and despite himself, he’s been utterly captivated by the way her mouth is curling around the white coffee mug she’s drinking from.

She quirks a brow, and Bucky feels his cheeks burn red and hot as he averts his gaze from her lips.

Kissing, isn’t something he gets to do, no matter how badly he might want to.

They’re alone in the room. It’s early, and, they both know they have a couple of hours until anyone else starts to surface.

Even though he’s blushing, Bucky can’t help but let his eyes roll back up to Y/N’s face, he settles a little when he notices how her attention isn’t on him, it’s split between a book that’s propped open on the counter top and the coffee she’s holding in one of her hands.

Her teeth tug at the corner of her mouth, and he finds himself imagining what it would be like to let his thumb hover against the pink-

Stop it, Barnes, he thinks sternly, starring at a dame without her knowin' is creepy enough.

She goes to take another drink, but this time her gaze catches his. She offers him a smile, but he misses it, suddenly overwhelmed with the horrible sensation of being caught doing something wrong; He blurts out a “Sorry” that he hopes might spare him a scolding, and he makes a point of averting his eyes, focusing intently on the grey, marble surface before him.

When a soft hand lands on his cheek, he jolts back, throwing the stool out from under himself and stumbling into the wall with a crash that only startles him further.

He can’t breathe- He can’t think- The sound of something breaking is fresh in the air, and all he knows is that he’s done something wrong, that something bad is coming—

“Hey…” she exhales, calm, “You’re okay, it’s just me, alright? I’m gonna come closer”

Just like that blue eyes are wide, and once again insanely focused on Y/N’s face, though his thoughts are significantly less pleasant, this time around -

“You’re alright, I promise”

Bucky barely hears her, with the way his ears are suddenly thrumming with his panicked pulse, but still, he forces a jerky, obedient nod as the woman takes a cautious step towards him.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him next, “That was my fault- I shouldn’t have touched ya’ without askin’-”

He’s panting, his eyes are wild, and Y/N can see the way that his metal hand is scratching at the smooth surface that he’s backed himself up against.

“Bucky” she calls, a little firmer now, “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

“Y-Yeah” he gasps, “Yeah — I- I… I’ll— I-” Don’t hurt me, he thinks desperately, I’ll do whatever you want—

A single deep breath is hardly much better than the way he’d been hyperventilating before, but, she thinks, It proves he's listening.

She almost wishes he wasn’t so focused on her, though, because the look on his face is devastating to see—

He’s barely blinking, so she offers him a comforting smile, before showing him both of her hands and taking another, slow, step towards him,

“It’s just me, okay?” she purrs, “Can I touch you, sweetheart? I’m not going to hurt you, I promise”

I’m not going to hurt you

He’s heard that before, more times than he can count, and it’s almost always been followed by cruelty. But this, this is Y/N, and she’s promising him, and she’s never lied to him before.

The nod he gives her is slight, but, definitely there so, she compromises by reaching out slowly, leaving a centimetre between his cheek and the skin of her open palm.

“It’s alright-” she whispers, seeing the conflicted crease in his brow, “-You’re fine.”

Bucky can feel the heat of her hand, he wants to lean in towards her, more than anything, but he’s so used to stillness meaning safety, that he decides not to risk it.

“Shit” he gulps, voice cracking with adrenaline, “I-I didn’t mean to— t-to break anythin’…”

Don’t be angry, he pleads internally, I can't even offer to pay to fix it, I could try, I guess-

Y/N throws a glance over her shoulder. She hadn't noticed anything breaking. Not that it matters. The stool is still lying on the ground, at worst she thinks there might be a crack on the bar, from where he’s grabbed it in his panic, but she can have it's nothing that couldn't be fixed in a matter of hours. She just smiles as she looks back over at him, shaking her head and re-thinking her approach by opening her arms in invitation;

“You're fine-” she repeats, beaming as he starts to move, tentatively shuffling into her embrace, “-C’mere, Buck— did you have a rough night?”

The second he surrenders and lets his brow drop to Y/N’s waiting shoulder, he crumbles. Tears are suddenly burning behind his eyes, so he shuts them, gritting his teeth so hard that his jaw aches in his frantic attempt to stop himself from crying.

She feels the change in his posture, and wraps her arms around him, stroking his back slowly, as he fights to control his breathing.

“Did you get any sleep?”

Her question makes his heart stammer urgently. He doesn’t want to lie, but the idea of being honest in with his answer is just as sour somehow.

“I- uh,- tried—” is what he whispers, urgently, into the crook of her neck, “—I swear, it's the beds or, or something, they don't feel like they used to-”

Her heart aches at the crack in his voice, she nods, and whispers out an “I believe you” that works at easing the tension. Something in her tone, whether it’s the gentle lilt of affection, or just the way that she is really not freaked out by this whole encounter is unclear, but it's there and he loves it.

He really just loves it.

“C’mon,” she purrs, pulling back a little, “Wanna eat somethin’, with me?”

Without meaning too, Bucky clings to the fabric of her t-shirt. The idea of losing a fraction of the contact she’s giving him so readily is painful.

She’s not oblivious to the way he’s holding on to her like his life depends on it— she’s known him for long enough to know that he flickers between states of total self-inflicted isolation, and a genuine need for the skin on skin.

It makes sense, really— He’s been touched-starved for god knows how long. He’s been locked up and tortured, and worse for a lifetime, and even though everyone had been warned about his status as HYDRAs ��attack dog’, she’s always thought that from the second he’d started to trust her, the transition to ‘lap dog’ had been awfully fast.

“I-“ Bucky whispers, “I’m—‘m not- not r-eady” I’m not ready to let go, he thinks urgently, not yet.

“Alright, sweetheart” Y/N replies with the same gentle voice he likes so much, “We've got nowhere to be”

Bucky has no idea how she always seems to know what he needs to hear, but he takes it all the same; and she doesn’t try and draw back again, not when there is no reason for her to rob him of whatever small facet of comfort he’s managing to find in her arms.

She’s more than happy to remind him that he’s with friends, now, and not strangers who hurt him for no reason.

“You got plans for today, Buck?” she asks, once the rise and fall of his chest start to regulate, “Or are you a free-agent?”

“I… t-told Steve I’d check in… he’s— he’s been worryin’ about me”

She laughs at that, quiet and soft against the side of his head.

“He’s been worryin’ about you since 1942”

That makes him crack a smile, it’s small and unsteady, but it’s there, and as he unveils his face from her shoulder, Y/N sees it, and she can’t help but reach up to stroke his cheek—

Just like that, his focus is back to kissing.

His eyes are watching the soft curve of her lips, the pressure of her fingers against the skin of his face is drawing him in, and he can almost feel her mouth on his—

Y/N doesn’t question his obvious distraction this time, she just watches patiently as he stares at her with an expression she can’t quite place;

“So…” she exhales, “…Once you’ve let Cap’ seen you’re not in mortal peril, you wanna come hang out with me in my lab?”

“Yes,” he bursts, eager to agree, “yes, p-please I— I’d… I’d like that a lot—”

Bucky loves Y/N’s lab.

He loves the way that it’s full of incredible things that she makes an effort to explain to him, over and over again, even though he barely ever understands it anyway. He loves the way he knows where he can go, and what he can touch, and how it never feels like he’s going to get into some kind of trouble for existing in there, but more than any of that, he thinks, he loves her. He loves her being there, beside him, chattering away like he’s not broken, and touching her hand against his like he hasn’t murdered people twice her size—

“I was hopin’ you might…” Y/N coos happily, snapping his attention firmly back to her face, “…You never know-” she adds, “-You might even manage to get some rest on one of the couches-”

He shoots her a longing glance and hopes earnestly that she doesn’t know how infatuated with her he is. He suspects that she does know, though, when she leans in and presses her lips against his brow.

Kissing.

Y/N is kissing him.

It only lasts a second, but it makes his breathing stop all the same.

When she pulls back, grinning and still stroking his jaw with her thumb, he feels whatever had been left of his resolve shattering.

“If you're breakin' out the puppy dog eyes” she coos, genuinely concerned by the way tears are suddenly filling his eyes, “you must want somethin'... huh? what? You wanna head down right now?”

That's exactly what he wants.

He nods, sniffing lamely as he tries not to blink in case any more emotion spreads across his face. Y/N doesn’t say anything else, she just looks over at the elevator door and waits for him to pad away from her hands, towards it.

It doesn’t take long for them to make it to her laboratory. She scans them both in, and when FRIDAY makes her usual offer of preparing the space for their use, she dismisses the AI politely, with a single request regarding the heating being turned on.

To Bucky’s initial dismay, Y/N doesn’t even look at him— she heads straight for a cupboard, where she proceeds to stand up on her tiptoes in order to reach something that he also can’t make out.

When she turns on her heels, holding a thick, dark, blanket, he’s sure he’s seeing things.

“C’mon then, sweetheart— Pick a couch, any couch”

What?

He blinks at her dumbly, still feeling tears stinging behind his eyes.

She tilts her head and chuckles, before looking around the room at the three, different loveseats;

“Do you have a preference?” she reiterates, “or-”

“I want to stay with you” he bursts, unable to hold back, “I… I mean, I— I- I like, I-“

Y/N feels her heart swelling with flattery, he’s so sweet, so hopelessly hungry for affection and companionship that the idea of anyone hurting him makes her almost irrationally angry.

“Come on then” she exhales, reaching out a hand towards him, and opening and closing her fist in invitation, “Dealers choice”

His chest stammers nervously as he lets his flesh fingers close around hers. He can’t even begin to understand why she’s being so kind to him, but she is, and he needs it. So he doesn’t ask, he just follows behind her as she leads him to a dark leather sectional that’s tucked away in the corner of the room.

“FRIDAY, can you send Cap’ a message please?-” Y/N purrs, folding down on to the plush cushions, “-Tell him that Barnes is fine, and that he’ll catch him for dinner or something later on”

“Sure thing, boss”

She’s still holding his hand, watching him with an expression so lovely that he can barely handle it.

“I-I— I-” he mumbles, “I’m— uh—“

“Exhausted” Y/N cuts in, patting the space beside her, “C’mon, sweetheart, I’ve got some readin’ to catch up on, you can curl up right here and keep me company”

That little burst of encouragement is all it takes for Bucky to fight past the embarrassment he’s feeling and settle himself on the couch, before, he very, very slowly, begins to lie himself down, with his head in Y/N’s lap.

“There” she coos, approving, “lets just-“ she adds, throwing the quilt up, over his body, “That’s better, right? nice and warm”

He can barely comprehend the niceness of his position. He’s staring up at her, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s bringing their tangled hands up to his lips, so that he can press a kiss against her knuckles.

The gesture is so, so lovely, that Y/N can’t help but smile down at him, reaching across with her free fingers to start to stroke his hair back, away from his brow.

“You” she whispers, “Are the sweetest guy alive, y’know that?”

He doesn’t, he doesn’t know anything close to that. So he shakes his head and feels his eyes spilling over, down across his cheeks as he lets himself close them.

Everything feels too raw. He’s tired, exposed, and in love and he hadn't realised that morning, and now he can't stop realising it and it’s too much, right now, because he doesn't know how or when it happened, but she is one of the most important people in his life, and he’s just kissed her hand, and he didn’t ask first, and he’s sorry, and he’s scared and tired, and—

“Well you are…” she says, making his frantic thoughts slam to a halt, “…You’re lovely, and charming, and handsome—”

Suddenly, he’s staring again.

“I’m sorry” he gulps, “I- I really am, Y/N/N-”

That isn’t what she’d been expecting to hear.

She shakes her head, slipping her hand down, so that she’s stroking his cheek with her thumb;

“I… I mean it” he counters, “I- I shouldn’t h-have kissed you- I-”

“What?” Y/N asks, genuinely confused, “What are you talking, about Buck?”

“Just now… I— Y-your hand, I— I, I couldn’t help it, darlin’— I- I- I’ve been thinkin’ a-about kissin’— about kissin’ you, and I— I shouldn’t have— I- I just couldn’t— I-“

He’s getting so worked up that his nostrils are flaring. It’s painful to watch, so she wastes no time in slipping the hand she’s holding up to her own lips, where she kisses his knuckles this time, effectively silencing him instantly.

“You’ve been thinkin’ about kissin’ a lot, huh?” she wonders, after a moment of silence,

Oh, god.

His face is on fire.

His eyes are full of tears again, but he can’t tear them away from her face.

She’s smiling, and he can’t help but think that she looks like an angel-

He nods, too mortified to make his confession aloud.

“and is it just me you’ve been thinkin’ about?” she presses, a lilt of humour in her tone, “or is it Natasha, too?”

“No” he bursts, “No, Y/N/N.. it…uh, it’s just you…”

Bucky knows he’s caught. He knows that no matter how humiliating this whole thing might be, that lying is only going to make it worse.

“Well” Y/N exhales, expression thoughtful, “It’s been a long time for you, sweetheart, it’s only normal that you’re gonna think about things like that-”

A strange kind of bravery washes over him for a minute, and he shakes his head, looking right at her, as he speaks,

“It’s not that, doll, it’s-” he inhales, “It's you, I didn't get it but, I, I do now and I know it’s— it’s crazy and I- I shouldn’t be tellin’ ya but I- I just want ya to know that you— you mean the world to me, and I- I-” “It has been a while, though, right?”

The teasing in her voice cuts through the intensity of the atmosphere, and despite himself, and his crippling anxiety, Bucky finds himself scoffing.

“Yeah..” he agrees, “Yeah it… it’s been a while.”

Y/N beams at him, before kissing his hand again.

“I know I just got FRIDAY to make you dinner plans with Rodgers,” she says, “But he's had plenty of chances to third wheel already- how would you feel about givin' him a rain check? that way we can talk about our feelings for each other somewhere more romantic than my lab—”

His breath catches in his throat. His fingers tighten around hers and for a horrible second, Y/N worries that she’s totally misread the situation;

“W-what do you mean ‘feelings for each other’?”

It’s her turn to blush now, even though Bucky thinks he’s never seen anyone so perfect;

“Well I…” she murmurs, “I might’ve misunderstood you, sweetheart, but it- it sounded like you were sayin’ you-”

“I do” he’s quick to assure her, “Y/N/N, I— I mean… but you— you-”

“Am kinda sweet on you too”

The man in her lap offers her a smile that splits his face- She thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, even if he’s blatantly exhausted.

“So…” she sighs, beaming back at him “…You get some rest… I’ll finish some work that I can’t make Tony’s problem and then…” she purrs, stroking her free hand through his hair, “Then we’ll see about the kissing…”

Masterlist

[lycheeloach]

overanalyzing mordecai's letter to his mom

Transcription + ramblings under the cut

Mother, Forgive my unannounced departure. Circumstances relating to my employment have made required me to travel on short notice. It may be some time before I am able to correspond again, but you will find savings in my rented room above the dry grocery adequate for living. Give Mrs. Kovitz the name Ezra [and] she will allow you upstairs. There is a safe box in the southeast corner behind the baseboard. [combination in Hebrew, more on that later] Please use some portion of it to relocate to more suitable living space, expeditiously. Purchase somewhere if you are able. The building is poorly ventilated, m[cut off, but based on the version from the Lackadaisy website it almost certainly says 'moldy'] and unhealthful. -M[ordecai]

First things first, he opens his letter with just 'mother'. 1) he's more formal than Esther, who just calls her 'mom' (though that might be because it's a Serious Letter). 2) he also signs it just 'Mordecai'. no 'dear' or 'love' here because he's totally not sentimental at all, right? he's also bad at expressing emotions, so instead we have to extrapolate how much his family means to him through his actions.

'forgive my unannounced departure' is telling in a couple of ways. First, it's pretty much an apology, which is something we don't really see from Mordecai. Second, it suggests that he and his mom are still in frequent contact, even after he's moved out.

The way Mordecai crosses out the word 'made' and replaces it with 'required' is probably in an effort to sound less alarming- less like he was forced to skip town. But he's so pressed for time and resources that he doesn't start over with a fresh sheet of paper.

'It may be some time before I am able to correspond again' he knows he's screwed. He's pretty sure he's going to die on this train, but he focuses on what's more important- writing to his mom and telling her where to find the money necessary for her and his sisters to have a better life.

It's revealed that Mordecai is renting a room- this gives him the personal space he so desperately needs, and also might be for reasons of keeping his work and home lives separate. Ezra is presumably an alias and he may have even given Mrs. Kovitz instructions to let his mother in if she ever came by. (Sidenote, in all likelihood she was probably just his landlady but I still kinda want to know how Mordecai would interact with Mrs. Kovitz.)

SO. here's an interesting fact for you. The safe combination is the name of Mordecai's youngest sister, Hannah, who died in infancy (you can see her in Tzipporah's arms here). Characters in the Hebrew alphabet correspond to numbers, hence how her name could be a safe combination. I can't phrase this in an analytical way- Mordecai using the name of his sister who died approximately a decade ago for the safe makes me explode. It makes all my bones fall out.

Apparently Mordecai saved enough money for his family to only need some of it to move to a better place. He emphasizes the importance of moving right away, because their building is gross- more than that, the tenements had very high mortality rates, something that the Heller family experienced firsthand.

The last thing I want to say is how desperate Mordecai is to get the letter mailed, practically begging strangers for postage. He's certain he's about to be shot in the face and he still fixates on sending that letter, because if he doesn't, everything he did for his family will have been for nothing.

In conclusion, I am normal.

[hedonistpoet06]

What If The Storm Ends? - Part 3 Five Hargreeves x Female OC

'What if Five's time during that first apocalypse was slightly different, what if he wasn't alone for all those years?'

Chapter synopsis: Five is plagued by the downfall of his own hubris which got him stuck in the mess of the apocalypse in the first place. Meanwhile, Octavia learns that the strange boy she stumbled across has kept some odd company in the shape of a plastic mannequin. Octavia soon realises that Five's attachment to Delores is no laughing matter, and now Five has to deal with two women living under his roof.

Author's Note: I've started making fic edits on my tik tok 'hed0nistpoet06' so feel free to check it out! <3

Word Count: 3367

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

iii. Octavia, meet Delores

Five successfully time travelled for the first time on the 11th of November, 2002.

The boy’s abrupt departure was charged by the dispute he had shared with his adoptive father, eccentric billionaire and certified asshole, Reginald Hagreeves. As Five opened the obnoxiously grand wooden doors of the academy that he had called home he felt relieved at how easy it was to leave.

For 13 years Five and his siblings had endured the abuse regimented training implemented by their father and during that time simply leaving had never felt like an option to himself or the others. Where would he go? His name and face was plastered all over cheap merchandise throughout the city so if he did hypothetically leave it wouldn’t be long until some recognised him. Then he would have to deal with the repercussions of his father and he knew the man didn’t believe in the concept of mercy.

Five recalled the painful memories that plagued his childhood, all of which shared a common denominator, his father. Reginald trained them to the bone, they were more like working dogs than children to him. Both Five and his siblings had all been conditioned with the same purpose, to save the world. Five thought about the hours they spent being unethically disciplined into becoming the perfect superhuman team.

He thought about it all, the way his lungs would burn from over exertion, the metallic stench of blood which filled his mouth and the suffocating silence of his siblings after they returned home from a mission unsuccessful, terrified of their fathers wrath which was guaranteed.

But Five was finally free.

He had made the choice to ignore Reginalds dismissal of his desire to time travel, after all Five remembered that he was the one who obtained the ability to spatial jump, not his father, so what could the old man possibly know?

However, he was surprised by the fact that neither his father nor any of his siblings had made an attempt to chase after him. His father had called his numerical title from his position at the head of their dining table but made no effort to stop him from leaving. The only one of his siblings that showed any intrigue in his departure was his sister, Vanya, who softly shook her head as he proposed time travel to his father.

He tolerated her the most out of their siblings most likely due to the fact that she was powerless and therefore wasn’t driven by their ego unlike Luther who took his position as Number One within the family extremely seriously.

As Five strode through the street front he had walked down many times before he became elated at this new sense of freedom which consumed him. Because physically leaving was so easy he also grew slightly enraged that he hadn’t thought of fleeing the bounds of this time earlier.

He was ready to time travel, he knew it.

Five had dedicated an obscene amount of blood, sweat and tears into perfecting his spatial jumps, ensuring that his calculations were just right. And when the boy had conquered travelling through space effectively, he yearned to travel through time.

Five focused his energy into performing a spatial jump but instead of fixating on the distance he would cross, he focused on projecting himself forward in time.

He needed to start small, months first, then years.

Then he was suddenly absorbed in that familiar blue light and when he opened his eyes he was thrilled to see and feel the seasonal shift in the atmosphere. From the bright colours that people wore, the humidity of the city air which melted through his academy blazer and the sound of amiable chit chat, Five knew that it was summer.

“Not ready, my ass.” He mumbled under his breath, cursing his fathers previous sentiment.

He had proved him wrong and Five swore he had never felt so content with himself before, and that was saying something.

Feeling adventurous and intoxicated from his own adrenaline high, Five decided to jump again.

The success of his second attempt was confirmed when he found himself on the same street front, only it was surrounded by snow. Five recognised the winter chill amongst the gentle falling of snow and the absence of people.

One more time, Five wanted to jump one more time. Then he would be completely satisfied with himself.

Oh how Five desperately wished he could have stopped himself there. To tell himself that he did not need to make that third, fatal jump. He could practically hear his fathers voice taunting him as the old man recited the Greek myth of Icarus and Daedalus once.

“Must I remind you, Number Five of the tragedy of Icarus. The boy did not heed his father’s warning regarding the fragility of their feather and wax wings. Driven by his own self perpetuated ego, the boy flew too high. Thus, the sun melted his wings and he plunged into the sea.” Reginald had explained this the first time Five had questioned the legitimacy of time travel to him.

Five did not agree with his father but he did wish that he had acknowledged the man's wisdom instead of feeding his own hubris.

When Five jumped he was met with nothing but death and destruction. The silence that surrounded him was harrowing. The only noise that filled his ears was that of burning debris and the reverberation of his own heartbeat.

Everything was destroyed. The buildings which Five had known his whole life had been obliterated into rubble, leaving the street unrecognisable to the boy.

Five panicked as he ran through the remains of the street. Ash was falling from the sky like snow and it filled his nose and mouth, he could taste the annihilation on his tongue but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His thoughts were consumed by one thing, finding his family.

He sprinted and hurled himself over chunks of concrete until he reached the academy, or at least what used to be left of the academy.

What stood in front of Five was now a mere skeleton of the building he used to call home. Despite all the painful memories that inhabited those four walls, Five never wished for it to be completely eradicated.

“Vanya!” She was the first to appear in his mind as he called out into the empty space before him. He heard nothing in response except for the small flickering of flames that consumed some parts of the house’s remains.

“Ben!” Five then thought about his brother who he renowned as the least idiotic of the siblings, second to himself of course. But not even Ben could outwit the grim reality of this current situation Five had found himself in.

“Dad!” He finally called out for his father, his voice breaking slightly. He expected his father to miraculously appear before him and give him some grand ‘I told you so’ lecture and then return home for him to receive his punishment for disobeying him.

He would gladly take the fury of his father over the desolate scene he was witnessing.

“Anyone!” He turned to the street and called out, silently hoping that a lone survivor or two would call for help from under the wreckage.

Once again, Five was met with silence. His own voice appeared to get lost in the endless void of grey industrial butchering.

Five tried to compose himself enough to conjure his energy into his palms and focus on shifting himself back in time. Even if he couldn’t get back to the exact point in which he left, Five wouldn’t care, he just needed to get the hell out of there.

He needed to hear the bickering of his siblings, the god awful jokes that Klaus made, Ben's cynical commentary or the sweet harmonies of Vanya’s violin which embedded itself into every corner of their house.

As Five’s hands were encapsulated by that familiar blue light his hope quickly died when he was met with physical resistance.

An invisible force was lodging itself against Five when he tried to use his power and no matter how he tried or how deeply he concentrated, he couldn’t jump. He felt like two brick walls were closing in on himself, he was suffocating. Five found the simple act of breathing difficult which only hindered his concentration.

His academy uniform was excruciatingly warm compared to his blazing surroundings and ash had wedged itself into the back of his oesophagus, only contributing to his laboured breathing.

Any attempt of using his powers to propel himself backwards proved to be futile. There was absolutely no way of rewinding his actions and erasing this decrepit, lifeless landscape from his mind.

As Five turned to face the remains of the academy once again he was met with the gut wrenching realisation that he was completely and utterly alone in this very moment.

Five crumbled to his knees, ignoring the way the concrete scalded and grazed his skin. The ash then began to rain down even heavier than before, it stuck to his hair, his hands and his skin. It was like he was being absorbed by the end of the world itself.

And at that very moment, Five Hargreeves began to cry.

— -- —

Octavia had left her base with Five the following morning to start their newly forged companionship.

She packed the few belongings that she had into her backpack, Five had so generously offered to carry some too. Octavia didn’t need to take much, mostly clothes, the few knives and other objects she had collected over the two years alone. Nothing really obtained any sentimental value to her anymore, everything which she did own was what she had found out of necessity for survival.

The only tangible object that had remained consistent throughout her time in the apocalypse was a dainty silver necklace her parents had gifted her on her 12th birthday. It wasn't incredibly fancy or expensive, just a simple silver chain and a matching heart shaped pendant and on the back her initials 'OM' had been engraved in italic writing. It may have sounded pathetic but the small piece of jewellery was her last connection to home, to her parents and physical proof that she lived a life before the world had caved in on itself.

Sometimes she found herself running the pad of her thumb over the backside of the pendant just to feel the grooves of the engraving. The silver itself was scratched due to natural apocalypse related wear and tear but she could still clearly feel and trace over the two letters which constituted her initials.

She was honestly impressed the dainty thing had lasted this long.

Despite being somewhat relieved to leave the concrete shack she called home, Octavia couldn’t help but feel a slight heaviness overcome her when she turned around to say one last goodbye to her shelter for the past two years. It kept her safe, protected and somewhat warm during the time she inhabited it and ultimately helped to sustain her survival.

However as she looked towards the boy who was already a few steps ahead of her she felt a twinge of relief knowing that she would no longer be alone.

The walk to Five’s base took the two of them half of the day to complete.

It turned out that Five resided on the complete opposite side of the city. Octavia vocalised her annoyance as the two of them hiked through the rubble of the city, the spring warmth was particularly intense that day. Five rolled his eyes and told her to suck it up and reminded her that there were far worse conditions to be in.

However, Octavia caught him complaining under his breath about why he had agreed to this deal. She didn’t take his remark too seriously, she knew well enough that he wanted this just as much as she did. Their two years of respective solitude was gruelling and unforgiving. A small intrinsic part of Octavia was almost excited to be in the presence of someone else's company for the foreseeable future, especially since Five was just about her age and easy on the eyes, although she wouldn't admit that out loud.

After what felt like an eternity of walking in the spring heat the two finally made it to Five’s base. Upon their arrival, Octavia finally understood what Five meant when he said that his place was more developed than her own. Five had sought refuge in the remains of an old library. Octavia deciphered the battered metal sign that read ‘Argyle Public Library’. The building itself consisted of a circular concrete structure that had somehow withstood the end of the world. Although some of its brick walls crumbled down, leaving it exposed to the elements, Octavia could see where Five had so evidently tried to patch it up and make it liveable. However, half of the ceiling was open, meaning there was still some exposure to the elements.

Octavia stood still in awe of the building, it was almost metaphorical how this cylindrical structure had combatted the apocalypse and somewhat succeeded. The circular architecture reminded her of something from antiquity, like one of those marble temples you’d see in ancient Greece. Only this place was made out of concrete and brick and not elegant marble. It stood proudly amongst the rubble of the city and she was slightly surprised that she hadn’t come across the building before in any of her travels throughout the city.

“Wow.. Five. It’s incredible.” She said, processing it's shockingly decent state.

“It’s not awful. It was the only building I could find that was somewhat standing.” Five walked towards what Octavia presumed was once the doorway, now replaced with a piece of fabric that acted as a curtain.

“It’s impressive.” She followed shortly behind him as he drew back the sheet but stopped abruptly.

Five shifted his weight and turned to look at Octavia. A serious expression painted his face as Octavia shot him a questioning look.

“Before you come in there is something I need to tell you.” He said sternly.

“What is it?” Octavia folded her arms over her chest, eager to hear what the boy was about to reveal.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you.” Five confessed. Truthfully, the whole walk home he had been mentally debating with himself how he was going to approach this situation.

“Five, you’re being weird.” Octavia knew that being weird wasn't exactly out of the ordinary for Five but something about his sudden shift in behaviour had irked her immensely.

“I haven’t exactly been alone all this time.” Five stated and Octavia felt her face flush with rage. She recalled their conversation only two days ago now when the two of them shared their experiences about being alone for two entire years, only to discover that the boy had lied to her.

Octavia secretly hoped that Five was hiding some stray dog and that was what he considered company. Her anger would dissipate if that were the case, Octavia loved animals, she had been surrounded by them every summer she spent on her grandparents farm. There were the usual chickens, pigs, cows but the lambs were her favourite. She especially when the lambs had just been born, no older than a few days and her grandfather allowed her to nurse them a bottle of milk and run her fingers through the soft tufts of wool.

“What the hell do you mean?” Octavia spoke up as she pulled herself out of her own memory which began to cloud her mind.

Five didn't respond. He instead drew back the curtain and gestured for her to step inside. Octavia, although weary, quickly followed suit.

She had almost forgotten about his peculiar revelation when her eyes landed on the interior of his base. It was so incredibly fitting to Five’s character that she almost had to hold a small giggle back.

The base consisted of one large, open circular room. His mattress planted in the upper portion of the room, surrounded by stacks of books. The remaining walls that weren’t completely blown out were covered in equations, the very equations Five had told her about the previous day. Octavia tried to decipher some of the formulas but this level of mathematics was beyond intelligible, it could have resembled scribble to the untrained eye. On the opposite end of the room there were two more guns leaning up against the wall, much like the rifle he wore on his back when the two of them first met. Across every inch of the room were towers of books, some in better condition than others but there was an abundance of them. Octavia almost wanted to cry tears of pure joy when she saw them sitting just a few mere feet away from her. In the centre of the space was a table, she presumed it was once some grand wooden dining table but it had obviously been destroyed. She silently chuckled at the idea of Five trying to fix it, opting for a piece of metal to substitute one of the missing table legs.

Octavia noticed that on top of the table's surface sat a mannequin. She only had the upper half of her body intact and she was missing an arm. Despite her absent appendages she was in somewhat decent condition, only a few scratches and dirt covered her bald head and she was dressed in a black and white polka dot blouse. Octavia shifted her weight between her feet as she waited for Five to say something, to maybe make a joke or laugh it off, instead he stared at its plastic beady eyes with an almost longing look in his eyes. It was honestly the softest, most unguarded expression that she had seen in the two days that she had known him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long dear, I know you hate it when I take off like that.” Five dropped his bag and rifle by the doorway and strode over to the table. He gently reached out a hand and began to rub the mannequin's plastic cheek.

Octavia quickly realised that it was neither a dog or another human person Five was referring to it was a plastic mannequin. She could only describe her as the type of mannequin you'd see in those cheap department stores with the uncanny faces that make you uncomfortable if you stare at them for too long.

“I know. I know. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He mumbled to the mannequin and Octavia was dumbfounded at his sudden shift in behaviour.

The tender and almost affectionate tone of his voice was completely foreign and seemingly out of character. She cleared her throat awkwardly, feeling as if she was interrupting a deeply intimate moment between Five and the mannequin.

Five looked back at Octavia before he gestured a hand to her direction.

“Octavia meet Delores, Delores this is Octavia. Our new roommate.” Octavia couldn't believe that the boy was introducing her to a non sentient piece of plastic.

“Are you telling me you’ve been shagging a mannequin for the past two years?” Octavia had concluded that this wasn't just an act Five was performing to get a rise out of her, he was being entirely serious.

“Don’t talk about Delores like that!” Five quipped back. His voice dramatically shifted from its previously affectionate tone to that of defensiveness.

Five found Delores during his first few weeks into the apocalypse. He considered Delores a real person, she was the closest thing to real which he could find in the debris. Her face was still mostly intact aside from a few scratches and Five was relieved to see something that mildly resembled another human being.

At first he just spoke to her in an attempt to keep himself sane, then he started to wheel her along in his metal trolley which he used on supply runs. Soon, Five wasn't exactly sure when but somewhere along the way she became Delores, it was like the name had just miraculously came to him and it suited her.

Octavia put her hands up in defeat, “Jesus, I guess you really did lose your mind.”

“Don’t listen to her, love. She doesn’t mean it.” Five said softly and Octavia rubbed her forehead in thought. Perhaps this was one quirk she would have to ignore in the name of survival.

“I swear to god Five if I have to hear you two getting it on.” She smirked at the livid reaction that spread across Five's face.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

How about “I loved you from the very first day“ with Bob?

♥️♥️♥️

YES this is so Bob coded 🥰

"Ok, kids are finally asleep...I think. They may just be really quiet up there, but the point is, they were in bed when I left the room," Bob laughed, adjusting his glasses before sitting down beside you on the couch.

"Close enough, they'll settle down eventually. They just missed you is all. This last mission was the longest one you've had since they were born, I don't think they were quite used to you being gone."

"I know, Lucy's been really...vocal about not wanting me to leave again. Made me do the pinky promise and everything that I wouldn't be going away again this week."

Bob frowned, running a hand through his golden brown hair. He shook his head as a loud sigh escaped his parted lips.

"I hate leaving you guys, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do, Bobby, we know you don't like going away."

He frowned again, this time looking down at his hands, fiddling with his wedding band, spinning the gold ring around on his finger. He let out another tired sigh before looking up to meet your gaze. His cobalt blue eyes fixated themselves on you, a sense of sadness behind them. He hated leaving his family. It was easier before you'd had kids, but since welcoming three little girls into the world, three little girls who adored their father more than anything, it made the task of leaving that much harder.

Your eldest daughter, Lucy, was five, and growing used to her dad's work - she didn't quite understand everything, but she knew it meant he had to leave here and there for missions. She typically knew the drill - Bob would leave for a week or two and return, showering his girls with love and affection. Lucy knew it was always temporary, but the last mission he was on had taken six weeks, far longer than any other mission he'd completed since the Dagger squad had been formed. You did what you could to reassure Lucy, and her sisters, 3 year old Isla and 18 month old Daisy, that Bob would return as soon as he could, but your efforts were futile. You couldn't fault them for that. Being as young as they were, you weren't surprised that they felt confused and betrayed, as though Bob had discarded his family. You did whatever you could though to show just how much he adored the three of them.

"Lucy'll be ok, hun," you soothed, your voice reassuring as you put your arm around Bob's shoulders, "She's just little."

"Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Mhmm, about 14 times since you came back this morning."

"No, but how much I really, truly, love you?"

"I'm listening."

"It's just," he laughed nervously as he adjusted his glasses again before continuing, "You've held down the fort by yourself for the last six weeks, taking care of the girls, making sure the house is running smoothly, getting Lucy to dance class, taking Isla to swim lessons, making sure Daisy gets to her play group after the older two go to school and preschool, and you managed to do it all without going crazy worrying about whether or not I'll be home safely."

"I wouldn't say without worrying. I worried every day. I just didn't show it."

"That's exactly what I mean, you never once showed the girls that you were concerned. You stayed strong for them."

"I did what I had to do, you would have done the same if it was the other way around."

"I wouldn't have been able to keep it together. Not as well as you have."

Bob laughed softly again, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. He smiled to himself before looking down at you once more, beaming from ear to ear as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I've loved you from the very first day I met you, you know that?" He nodded, placing his hand tenderly on your cheek as he pressed his lips to yours.

"I know. Only because I've loved you that long too."

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Many happy weeks passed, and the couple began to find their rhythm with one another. Aemond spent most of his time preoccupied with his duties as Master of Coin as Aegon seemingly needed his brother more than ever. The one-eyed Prince devoted his time to keeping account of the receipts and expenditures from the royal treasury, assessing where necessary cuts could be made in order to fund the war effort.

His work often extended late into the night, with the glow of candlelight illuminating their shared chambers as he delved into scrolls and ledgers. Maera, understanding the demands of his role, would patiently beckon him to come to bed, a routine that played out more than a few times before Aemond eventually relented, finding solace and respite in the warmth of their shared space.

Meanwhile, Maera found her own routine, returning to spending her days with Helaena, carrying out her original plan of serving her Queen not as a lady-in-waiting like before, but as her sister. Helaena, facing more frequent trances and odd visions she couldn't comprehend, welcomed Maera's company, finding comfort in the bond they shared.

The new Targaryen Princess also took on the responsibility of fostering relationships on behalf of her husband’s House, by corresponding with noble ladies from various Houses. She had already initiated correspondence with Lord Edwin Tarth’s wife, since their children would be linked through marriage, as well as Lord Stokeworth’s eldest daughter, who’s loyalties were known to sway, recognizing the strategic importance of maintaining alliances in a realm rife with political intricacies.

In addition to her royal duties, Maera developed a routine of visiting the Sept a few times a week. Sometimes with Queen Alicent and Helaena on the day of the Mother, but other days, she would visit the Sept alone, embracing the quiet holy atmosphere. There, she dedicated her prayers to the Mother, the Maiden, and the Warrior on their respective days. To the Mother, she prayed for guidance in her newfound responsibilities and the strength to fulfill her role as a wife by eventually producing heirs. Although she would secretly beg the Mother to be gracious and give her some time before this happened, wanting her life to belong to herself for just a little while longer.

To the Maiden, she sought blessings for a harmonious marriage and the ability to navigate the complexities of court life. Finally, to the Warrior, she prayed for courage and protection, both for herself and for Aemond as he faced the challenges of his duties, as well as the Realm as the war waged on in the background. The Dance of the Dragons they were calling it, a pretty name for such a gruesome war, Maera thought.

Despite being aware that her marriage to Aemond was far from perfect, Maera found an unexpected comfort in its imperfections. The passion that flared during their intimate moments was undeniable, yet both Maera and Aemond possessed a stubbornness and inner fire that ultimately led to disagreements.

It was a common pattern, particularly when one of them was frustrated or angry. At the end of a long day of attending to tireless duties, making small differences that would benefit the Realm but ultimately no one appreciated, the tension bubbled to the surface and one of them would usually take it out on the other, spitting venomous words and fixating on imperfections. The receiving partner would not take this, retaliating with equal defiance until one finally relented, causing the argument to lead to intense passionate fucking, with Aemond taking control most of the time.

The dynamic seemed to work, and after a time, the pair seemed to notice that the argument in between wasted time, and they came to understand a certain look that each presented to know just what the other needed, bypassing the argument altogether.

Maera would notice how his violet eye blazed with a combination of anger and lust, creating a captivating intensity. The sharp contours of his nose and the prominent, clenched jawline emphasized the inner turmoil he carried. His fists would be clenched, and the subtle flicker of his tongue licking across his bottom lip enticingly, adding a layer of anticipation to the charged atmosphere. She was only too happy to drop to her knees and unlace his trousers in order to serve him as a good wife should.

She understood his frustrations. The Prince felt at a loss being the second son, serving his idiotic brother. He needed an outlet, a way to gain control, to own something that was his and his alone, that would submit to his every whim. Aemond seemed to relish in the power he knew he had over his wife. And she dutifully enjoyed playing this role, although this was something Maera would not admit outside of their passions. He was stronger, harder, crueller than her, and Gods did he want to break her, to have her bend to his will and put her in her place.

The Princess seemed only happy to oblige. After all, Aemond was the only man she had ever been with like this. It was not the sweet and gentle lovemaking the poets had wrote about, but she supposed that if it had been that way, she would not have been happy. She was no helpless maiden, and her husband was no gallant, gentle knight. And whilst she appreciated the first week or so of getting to know him on a more intimate scale, her cunt was drenched more than ever when he started to become rougher and show his true colours.

Maera happily bore his love bites on her neck, breasts and thighs, almost proud to possess such honours decorating her body. She embraced the hand that squeezed hard on her throat, becoming dizzy and breathless as the Prince fucked roughly into her. She absorbed his teasing and degrading words, which were swiftly followed by praise and numerous beautiful sounds from her husband’s mouth, including the moan of her name.

While Maera certainly enjoyed the intensity of her passions with Aemond, there was a different, quieter pleasure in their shared breakfasts. The atmosphere during these moments was more serene, a contrast to the fiery passion they often shared. As they sat together, the Red Keep's morning light casting a warm glow over the room, Maera found herself enthralled with Aemond's updates about the upcoming war.

He painted a clear image with his words about the progress of the Greens and the Blacks, meaning Maera was now well aware of the conflicts occurring in the Seven Kingdoms. The Vale, the North and the Riverland factions led by Ser Elmo Tully, were all sworn to Princess Rhaenyra’s cause. However the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the majority of the Riverlands had pledged their loyalty to Aegon.

Despite his usual reserved nature, Aemond chose to share these details with her, and Maera appreciated this glimpse into his thoughts. It created a unique bond between them, a shared understanding of the challenges that lay ahead, and it reinforced her role not just as his wife but as someone he trusted with the intricacies of his responsibilities.

Things were good. Better than Maera thought they would be, actually. But then the nightmares returned, more horrifying than she remembered. They began like they always did; within the corridors of Rain House, Maera followed the eerie echoes of groans and wails, a disconcerting symphony that led her to her mother's chambers. There, in the dream's shadows, Lady Gael appeared – dressed in a flowing nightgown, her thick white curls framing a face with haunting violet eyes.

“Muña?” Mother? Maera whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face. She had always called her mother by the Valyrian title as it was easier for her to say as a young girl. She remembered Lord Jasper attempting to correct her on a number of occasions, but Lady Gael would simply smile, ecstatic her daughter addressed her in her mother tongue.

“Ivestragī issa ōregon ao, tala,” Let me hold you, daughter, the spectre breathed in response, a soft smile of her face as she extended her arms, beckoning Maera to come to her. Torn between reality and the dream, Maera clung desperately to her mother. The dream world allowed her to feel Lady Gael's presence, breathe in her scent, and trace the softness of her skin. Though aware it was a phantom embrace, Maera tried to etch every detail into her memory, as she always did.

Then came the part she dreaded. As Maera reluctantly withdrew from her mother's embrace, an unsettling transformation gripped the dream. Lady Gael's visage, once adorned with serene bliss, contorted into a mask of horror. A chill enveloped the chamber as their eyes met, and Lady Gael cast her gaze downward. Instinctively, Maera followed suit, only to be confronted by a nightmarish tableau.

Between Lady Gael's legs, a crimson stain marred the purity of her white nightgown. Panic etched across her mother's face, Lady Gael desperately clutched at the fabric, her hands now tainted by the ominous hue of blood. The once-peaceful dream morphed into a grotesque scene, and Maera, paralyzed by the unfolding horror, could only watch in helpless disbelief as the nightmare spiraled into a macabre dance of shadows and anguish.

Although there was nobody there, shouting and panic echoed through the chambers.

“We cannot stop the bleeding, my Lord.”

“We are losing her, apply more pressure. May the Mother help us.”

Among the horrified voices, Maera picked out one she could identify easily. Her father’s. “Gael? Gael! Stay with me. Our children, they need you. Please?” To hear such a composed man sound so desperate and frightened was haunting, and Maera could still hear it, clear as day.

Lady Gael crumbled to her knees, the ominous tide of blood staining her nightgown spreading down her legs, leaving a haunting trail on the cold stone floor. The once vibrant hues drained from her face, replaced by the pallor of impending doom.

In the nightmare's cruel grip, Maera rushed to catch her falling mother. Frantically scanning the empty corridors for aid, she knew help would not arrive. Desperation etched across her face, Maera looked into her mother's fading eyes, grappling with the crushing weight of helplessness.

“Skoros kostagon nyke gaomagon, muña? Ivestragon skoros naejot gaomagon!” What can I do, mother? Tell me what to do! Maera weeped, holding onto her mother’s form as if her life depended on it.

Lady Gael, weakened and dying, reached up to tenderly brush a strand of hair from Maera's face. A feeble attempt at a smile flickered on her lips. “Ziry iksos vējes, Maera. Volpe ondoso Jaehossas.” It is fate, Maera. Foretold by the Gods. The colour then drained from her violet eyes, the smile faltered, and Lady Gael succumbed to the relentless grip of the dream's cruel reality.

With a sudden jolt, Maera sat bolt upright as she awoke from the nightmarish reverie, her heart pounding and breaths erratic. The echoes of the dream lingered, a haunting reminder of the ephemeral nature of solace and the persistent ache of loss. Clutching the sheets to her bare chest, she felt her heart racing beneath the fabric, a tangible echo of the fear that still gripped her.

As she grappled with the residue of the nightmare, the sheets rustled beside her. A sudden warmth enveloped her bare thigh, sending a shiver down her spine. The unexpected touch beneath the sheets startled her, and her breath caught as she strained to discern the source, her senses heightened by the lingering echoes of the dream.

Maera's eyes adjusted to the dim light as she looked down, finding Aemond lying on his side facing her. His arm was outstretched, a large hand gently rubbing her thigh in a comforting gesture. The touch conveyed reassurance, grounding her from the remnants of the nightmare.

Lying back down, Maera turned on her side to face her husband. Aemond's hand now rested on her hip, his fingers tracing patterns onto her skin. In the subdued lighting, his straight silver hair appeared messy, and the sapphire eye revealed, as he didn't wear his eye patch to bed. His expression carried a hint of mystery, but the slight furrow of his brow betrayed his concern for her well-being.

“A nightmare?” The Prince asked in a hushed tone.

Maera shifted closer to Aemond, seeking comfort in his presence. Her brown hair, along with the distinctive silver streak, adorned the pillow, a stark contrast to the darkness of the room. “It seems the Gods only saw fit to grant me a few weeks of reprieve from them,” Maera sighed, shaking her head. “I thought I had found contentment.”

In an attempt to lift her spirits, Aemond continued stroking her hip before he said teasingly, “And you thought you found find that in your marriage to me?”

However, her response carried a tinge of sadness. “It does not matter. Evidently, the past still lingers, like an unwelcome storm cloud,” she admitted, her eyes meeting his with a vulnerability that transcended the jest.

Aemond remained his usual stoic self, his expression unyielding. As she spoke, he moved the hand from her hip to cup her face, his thumb gently rubbing along her cheek. In the dim light, Maera's heart fluttered at this tender gesture, finding solace in the touch that spoke more than words.

Maera, appreciating his concern yet wanting to shift the focus, then redirected the conversation. She met Aemond’s gaze with a soft smile, her green eyes reflecting a desire to move past the unsettling dream. Shifting the topic, she gently probed, “And what of your light sleeping, valzȳrys? I have noticed your tossing and turning.” Aemond responded with a noncommittal hum, his gaze distant as Maera reached for him and began tracing her finger up his toned muscular arm.

Aemond in turn moved the hand on her cheek up into her dark brown locks, his fingers occasionally tugging on her roots gently, a sensation that Maera found surprisingly enjoyable. Unsatisfied with his attempt to distract her, Maera persisted, “You were not always like this. I do not remember you being such a light sleeper when we were children. Unless, of course, a particularly history book fascinated you so that you could not put it down.”

Aemond diverted his gaze and cleared his throat, hesitating before confessing, “It is my eye. Or, rather, lack thereof. It can be painful at times.”

Confused, Maera furrowed her brows as she asked, “What do you mean?”

Aemond sighed, his expression pained. “It throbs, and I get headaches. Sometimes, the pain is so intense… it feels like my eye is being carved out all over again.”

Maera’s eyes widened with realization, sympathy replacing confusion. Instinctively she reached her hand up to his face and traced the contours of the scar that marked her husband’s missing eye. Her touch was feather-light, a gentle exploration of the rugged terrain on his face. A moment of silent understanding passed between them as she moved even closer, her lips pressing a tender kiss on Aemond’s forehead.

Her anger simmered as she stroked Aemond's face. "Has the Maester given you anything for the pain?" she inquired, concern etched in her voice.

Aemond nodded, "A balm with the milk of the poppy. It helps sometimes, but not always."

Frowning, Maera asked, "What do you do when it doesn't help?"

Aemond sighed, "I distract myself – with reading or writing or training. Anything to keep my mind off the pain."

At her husband’s confession, Maera’s anger flared like wildfire. During that moment, as she gazed upon his face, she did not see the man that she was married to. Instead she saw that little boy with the jagged bloody stitching across his missing eye on the day he returned to the Red Keep from Lady Laena’s funeral. That day had changed Aemond, for the worst, and their friendship had demised.

"I wish I had been there for you that night, at Driftmark," Maera expressed aloud, her anger boiling over. Aemond raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

Clutching the sheet tighter, she asserted, "Every one of Rhaenyra’s bastard sons would have lost an eye that day if I had known what it would do to you. To us." The fierceness in her voice revealed the depth of her protective instincts and the regret for the pain he had endured alone.

Aemond, propping himself up on his elbow, his silver hair cascading like a curtain, smirked at Maera’s fiery declaration. “As entertaining as that would have been to watch, issa dāria, it would have no doubt let to your execution.”

“A common theme in my life, it seems,” Maera replied with a shrug, their shared chuckling echoing through their chambers, a moment of understanding and lightness in the face of past hardships.

There was a look in his violet eye, a look that Maera was unsure about. Nevertheless she did not have much time to think on it as the Prince leaned down and his lips met hers in a slow, deliberate dance. The sensation was soft, yet charged with an unspoken connection that transcended physical desire. As their lips pressed together, there was an unhurried exploration, a shared rhythm that mirrored the beating of their hearts.

Maera's hand found its way into Aemond's silver hair, her fingers gently grazing the strands as they deepened the kiss. The warmth between them was not merely a product of passion; it held a profound sense of contentment, as if in that moment, they had found solace in each other.

As they parted, Aemond's gaze seemed momentarily distant, fixed on one of the walls. Curious, Maera turned to follow his line of sight, realizing it led to her sword and dagger hanging beside his.

Aemond's smirk returned as he looked back at her. "I think it is time your weapons revisited the courtyard," he suggested playfully. “I cannot have a weak wife.”

Maera's eyes gleamed with a mischievous spark, understanding his unspoken challenge. "I accept your challenge, husband," she replied, a shared excitement flickering between them.

Notes: Happy December. Just throwing a fluffy lore chapter in here before we return to our usual horny and dramatic programme.

Tags: @blue-serendipity @watercolorskyy @manipulatixe @marvelescvpe @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤