#i wish i knew how to make high quality gifs

[itsgreti]

UNSPOKEN FEELINGS

pairing. james beaufort x f!reader

summary. james realizes he has deeper feelings for lydia's best friend.

warning. slight cursing, mentions of cheating

word count. 1.4k

a/n: i just watched maxton hall and felt the urge to write a quick fic. english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me! (divider is made by rookthornesartistry)

The prestigious campus of Maxton Hall Boarding School was a world itself, where the rich teenage life unfolded in all its complexity. Among its many students were James Beaufort, the charming and popular heartthrob, and his twin sister Lydia, known for her big mouth, but besides that, intelligence. (Y/N) was Lydia's best friend since they were toddlers, and because of that she often finds herself in the company of the Beauforts. Despite this, (Y/N) felt like a shadow, always in the background and unnoticed by James. His attractive presence draws attention, as he walks around the hallway, towering over others, always surrounded by admirers. Like everyone in the school, (Y/N) also had a crush on him, but she knew she would always be only his little sister’s friend. And she had long accepted that.

The (Y/L/N) family is famous internationally, because of their luxurious, high-quality dresses. They often collaborate with the market-leading fashion brand, Young Beaufort. But (Y/N) usually wished for just a simple way of life, without fame. All the children, who inherit their family’s legacy, are burdened by the weight of expectations and pressure.

To make things worse, it was a chilly afternoon when (Y/N)'s world shattered. She had been dating a boy from another school, a relationship that seemed promising but ended in betrayal and heartbreak. The boy had just played with her, and thrown away her without a second thought. (Y/N) was devastated and hurt.

Lydia was away on a school trip, leaving (Y/N) with her emotions alone. She wandered the campus aimlessly, eventually finding an isolated bench near the gardens, where she let the tears flow freely.

Unaware of (Y/N), James had noticed her distressed state from afar. He had been passing by when he saw her sitting alone, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Concerned, he approached quietly, unsure of how to begin.

"(Y/N)," he said softly, startling them. "Are you okay?"

(Y/N) quickly wiped her tears, attempting to make herself presentable. "Oh, James. I'm fine. Just... having a rough day."

James sat down beside her, his expression gentle but insistent. "You don't look fine. What happened?"

The unexpected kindness in his voice broke through (Y/N)'s defences. She looked at him, eyes filled with pain, and sighed. "It's just... this guy I was dating. He turned out to be a jerk. He used me and then just... dumped me."

James's jaw tightened, a flash of anger in his eyes. "Who is he?"

"It doesn’t matter. He’s not from Maxton Hall." (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders.

When James heard the pain in her voice, he decided to deal with her now, and it will be enough later to get to know about that asshole. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). You didn't deserve that."

(Y/N) shook her head, feeling small and insignificant. "I should have seen it coming. I'm not exactly someone would notice."

James frowned, shifting closer. "That's not true. People notice you, (Y/N). I notice you."

(Y/N) looked at him in surprise. "You... notice me?" she said with irony.

James was confused, but nodded, his gaze sincere. "Of course I do." (Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat hearing those words. "You're important to Lydia, which makes you important to me. And beyond that, you're a great person. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life."

The warmth in his words and the intensity of his gaze made (Y/N) feel a flicker of hope. She had always seen James as someone out of reach, but here he was, sitting beside her, offering comfort and understanding.

"Thank you, James," she whispered, feeling the weight of her sadness begins to lift. "It means a lot."

James smiled softly, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze hers. "I do care about you, (Y/N). And if that guy couldn't see how amazing you are, then he's the one who's missing out."

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the cold air around them a sharp contrast to the warmth blossoming in (Y/N)'s heart. James's presence was a balm to their wounded soul, a reminder that she was not alone.

"Do you want to talk more about it?" James asked, his voice gentle. "Or maybe we can just sit here for a while. Whatever you need."

(Y/N) smiled, feeling a sense of gratitude and a newfound connection. "Sitting here is nice. Thank you, James," she said feeling his arms pull her into a hug.

As they sat together, (Y/N) realized that maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong about James’s emotions towards her. Perhaps he had been seeing her all along, and in this moment of weakness, she had realised that her feelings for her had not changed over the years.

The weeks following that emotional afternoon saw a gradual but significant shift in the dynamics between James and (Y/N). Where once their interactions were only about polite nods and casual greetings, now there were shared moments, conversations, and a growing sense of friendship.

James found himself looking forward to seeing (Y/N) more than he ever anticipated. Her presence was comforting, her laughter infectious, and her perspectives refreshing. He was drawn to (Y/N) in a way that was new and unexpected, and it unsettled him in the best possible way. He finally had to admit that he had lied to himself all the years when he said he didn’t care about (Y/N).

(Y/N) felt the change too. She was still close to Lydia, but now James seemed to seek her out independently. He'd join them for lunch, walk with them between classes, and even invite them to hang out with his friends, to where (Y/N) always refused to go and eventually Lydia accepted it. It was confusing but exhilarating.

One evening, while Lydia was busy with her extracurricular activities, James invited (Y/N) to study with him at a cosy coffee shop off-campus. They settled into a quiet corner, books and notebooks spread out before them.

"You know," James said, looking up from his notes, "I never realized how much fun studying could be until I started doing it with you."

(Y/N) laughed softly, their cheeks flushing. "I have never thought that once in my lifetime I will hear that from the mouth of James Beaufort, but I think you just enjoy the coffee and the company."

James smiled, but there was a depth to his gaze that made (Y/N) look away shyly. "You're right about that. But it's more than that. You're different, (Y/N). In a good way. You make everything better."

(Y/N) felt her heart skip a beat. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable. "Thanks. Spending time with you isn't that bad either."

As the weeks went on, James's feelings for (Y/N) deepened. He found himself thinking about her at odd times, daydreaming about their future conversations, and feeling jealous when he saw her with others. It was during one of these moments when he saw (Y/N) laughing with Cyril, that he realized the truth: he had fallen for (Y/N).

The next day, James asked (Y/N) to meet him in the gardens where they had first bonded. The air was cool, the sky painted with the hues of sunset.

"(Y/N)," James began, taking a deep breath. "There's something I need to tell you."

(Y/N) looked at him, concern flickering in their eyes. "What is it?"

"I've been thinking a lot, and I realized something important," he continued, his voice steady but his heart racing. "That day when you sat with me here, something changed for me. Spending time with you, getting to know you better... I've come to realize that I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings."

(Y/N) stared at him, her breath catching in their throat. "James, I... I-"

James stepped closer, his eyes locked on her. "You don't have to say anything right now. I just needed you to know how I feel. Whatever you decide, our friendship means a lot to me, and I don't want to lose that."

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes, but they were tears of happiness and relief. "James, I feel the same way. I've liked you for a long time, but I never thought you'd feel the same."

James's face broke into a radiant smile, and he reached out to gently hold (Y/N)'s face in his hands. With that, James leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss, a perfect blend of nervous excitement and genuine affection.

As they pulled away, both of them breathless and smiling, James whispered, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

(Y/N) smiled back, her eyes shining with happiness. "Me too."

[lazycats-stuff]

I love the Brazilian batboy fanfic, consider doing it with a Venezuelan batboy in the future please 🙌🏻

Alright, lets do it! This gif is from Giphy since there are no good gifs regarding Venezuela on Tumblr so I thought why not get something from the internet. Also, this is shorter than usual since the heat is killing me. Officially, I swear. I want winter back.

Summary: (Y/N) is Venezuelan. Enough said.

Warnings: none really

Bruce strikes once again with his mister worldwide status. Turns out that Bruce had another kid in Venezuela. At this point, everyone was already over it and had no intentions of even getting aggravated in the slightest.

Even Damian, the only biological son up until this point didn't get pissed. He said it wasn't worth the aggravation and went on with his day calmly and peacefully. Bruce was suspicious beyond belief, but eventually said that a calm Damian is a great Damian. He really didn't expect this reaction from Damian, but he choose not to question it.

Either way, with everything going on with in Venezuela, he wanted to bring his son here, to the USA, so he can attend great college once he finishes high school. Immigration might be a bitch, but hey, he has money, connections and people who have power owe him favors. And besides, anyone seeing his name will make them move faster.

Sure, it sounds entitled and out of touch type of shit, but Bruce couldn't care at this point. Immigration is the worst type of torture in modern day society. But honestly. Anyone trying to move or get a visa or a citizenship, knows it's the biggest hassle and annoyance in the world.

But either way, Bruce brought (Y/N) to Gotham and (Y/N) was working on getting his American citizenship. (Y/N) was slowly getting there. He knew English, but when it came to Spanish, he talked insanely fast. Insanely. When he got mad, he was talking faster than Flash could run.

Jason found it amusing as hell. Sometimes he would intentionally make (Y/N) mad to see how fast he could make him to talk. Everyone else stayed out of it, trying to see how they could get along with (Y/N).

Dick noticed that (Y/N) was warm towards everyone, welcoming to whoever came to him and open. That was nice compared to Americans. Dick adored those qualities in him and in people. Sure, the world is a cold place and you can't trust everyone, but sometimes you need to be open.

Tim loved how loudly (Y/N) would talk. It would keep him up when he needed to be up late. Sometimes it would scare him and he would jump like a scaredy cat sometimes, but he enjoyed the loudness of his voice and how it would keep him up when they talked.

Damian loved how he prioritized family. Despite not being blood related to everyone, he treated them like that. No difference. Whatever they needed, (Y/N) would tried to help them all. Damian respected that more than (Y/N) could ever know.

And, Jason loved how (Y/N) could party his ass off. Jason has never met a person who could party like him. Just let loose and have fun with his family or friends he has made here. It was just... Cool and Jason wished he was so cool and so relaxed.

However, Bruce didn't know that all of Gotham would go insane for his son. He didn't know that Venezuelan people were all pretty. Well, not all, but a good majority. He didn't expect the entire city to just talk about his son as if he was a piece of meat...

Sure, (Y/N) had Bruce's looks and his mother's looks and sure, (Y/N) was Latino, but this is slowly but surely getting out of hand. (Y/N) didn't mind, knowing he looked great, but Bruce was worried. As always. He always worried about his children. No matter how old they are, Bruce is always worried.

Sexualization of children is never okay. No matter the gender. And no matter the age as well.

But all in all, (Y/N) adapted to American culture quite well. Sure, there were weird moments where (Y/N) wondered what the hell were Americans thinking, but all in all, (Y/N) was doing great.

[ellieslittleburrow]

Coming home late..doesn't keep Dean okay. P1

Summery : You've been acting out, lately. Or at least that's what Sam and Dean called it. For you it was just having fun, living. That is until Dean couldn't take it anymore...

Warnings : a bit of a violent behaviour, stern brother

Pairings : Dean winchester x sister reader

A/n : AHA WHATS THAT TITLE. Also i'm sorry if this brings bad memories to any of you guys ❤️ Comments are much appreciated peeps 🌸

-----

"Lookie here"

A voice you have so carelessly gotten used to, tinted with a hint of disappointment and of passive aggressiveness. "Miss wild life has just come back from her adventures."

You sighed as your boots tiredly thump the metallic steps of the bunker and Dean emerged through the metallic columns.

"What?" You threw your arms out. "Am i not allowed to go out now? Should i ask for your permission for everything?" You spat out. Fucker really had to do this as soon as you came back home?

"No!" Dean rose from the chair and dangerously made his way to you. "You could've answered the phone one of the 10 times i called, though!" He sounded enthusiastic for a second. "Or maybe just gotten home on time." And then that enthusiasm shifted to disappointment. And after a few seconds of silence, he spoke again, his voice fatigued. "What are you doing, kid?"

It was a simple 4 worded question. But the answer to it requiered a few shrinks and lots of writing. You didn't know why you were acting this way, really. To you it was no big deal. Why do they want to force everything on you? Get home at this hour, wear this and not that, eat, don't talk to that person, don't haunt this and that...You were just done with all this attention to the little details that meant nothing to you...You just..wanted them to notice you, what you liked, your qualities, the fact that you knew well enough how to haunt. There was also the fact that...handling things on your own was no longer a possibility..The pain, the nightmares, the memories.

"I'm not doing anything, Dean. I just got home like-" You stop to look at your watch. "A fucking hour late. Boohoo, what a big fucking dea-"

"LILY."

You stop! Faltering for a tiny moment before quickly recovering, adrenaline pumping through your body.

"Don't raise your voic-"

You'd spoke but Dean interrupted you, closing the gap between you, sending you staggering backwards. But you still hold your head up high, chest puffed up and ready to fight...cleching your fists as your hands trembled.

"i don't think you understand, lily." Your brother wrapped his hand around your arm, looming over your -what felt like- tiny body. You held your gaze down. Are you still going to fight? Or are you going to apologize and move on?

"It's not because i let you loose that it's actually acceptable for you to behave this way. I understand that you're angry and that you're taking it out on me-"

"that's fucking stupi-"

Fight it is..

"it's not stupid, you're acting out like you're five."

"i swear to god and i promise you, if you ever do this again, lily, you're done. And not done the way you usually are. I promise you that if you do this ever again, i will make sure you never forget that day. "

You scoff and shrug, the perfect cocktail for Dean's eyes to go lower, darker. Angrier. But all that bitterness washed away... and he nodded, slowly.

"Okay then" He let go of your arm and you internally wished he didn't. It felt now like you'd rather he grounds you and yells, because that smile meant that whatever was coming, was going to be much worse.

"Since you're all grown up and ready to take care of yourelf, let me change it up for you."

Much worse indeed..

He stood up straight and you shrunk again. You didn't want this!!! This is not what you had in m-

"We've already got enough problems on our plate, you acting out, with your temper tantrums and your shit-" He shakes his hands. " i'm not having it."

You'd speak up...apologize..But you're too angry and terrified to even think. Let alone talk.

"You do this shit again, you're out. Capiche?"

You opened your mouth to speak but!- you're stunned. And a lump grew heavy in your throat as regret set in....

"And you watch your language, or else i promise you i'll smack your face so bad your jaw will hurt."

Your eyebrows stood up in surprise..Never has Dean EVER been this violent. And by the looks of it, he meant it. He meant all of it. Every single word. And you...you-

You burst into tears, choking as saliva pooled in your mouth. You've never felt such things and-and you don't get why he'd eve-

"I asked you a question, lily." He thundered but you were in no state that would get you to stop crying, anytime soon. Only an unintentional whimper escaped your lips. "Lily, i asked you a question." He demanded again, groaning higher.

You nod, hoping it would get him off you but...that only infuriorates him more. "ANSWER ME."

his tone turned more violent, piercing your ears and you nodded again. "Yeah. Yes-I I understand." Your lips trembling as your upper body leaned away from him.

Just then does he let go of your arm. "'Out of my face now, kid."

Without hesitation, you stepped aside, heading for your room.

You placed the back of your hand on your mouth, covering it before another wave of tears comes in.

You might've fucked up, badly this time, as Dean has never been this mean to you. And it just felt like....John and Sam all over again.

You had to do something about it. But it could wait. Until Sam came back.

--------

PART2

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Ola, yall! I love writing angst 😭😭😭 What do we think???? ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

[thesmutsideblog]

Never Ever? - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a you and your long term ex breakup, some truths about your sex life come to light at the BAU and the idea that you've never had an orgasm, does not fly with Spencer Reid.

Reader is AFAB, and the story is using she/her pronouns, mostly because this one is really self indulgent and loosely based on me being pissed off about my ex.

Content warnings: dumbification of Spencer Reid, simp Spencer, shitty ex boyfriend, self indulgent writing, no beta or proof reading, cursing, smut, sexual worship, porn with plot I guess.

I have never written in second person before so I can only apologise for the shit quality of this, I havent written smut since 2018 and it's unedited, there is going to be spelling issues it's the dyslexia I'm sorry xx

GIF by comeandjointhebigboys

Spencer is doing everything in his power to look like he is minding his business, mostly because he really is trying to not eavesdrop. He came over to make a cup of coffee because he got barely any sleep last night and he wants to keep focused. But with no case directly at hand, there was something else the team were paying attention to and it was impossible for Spencer to completely ignore it.

"So he just, broke up with you?" Emily asks, dumbfounded.

"Over the phone," you say tilting your mug towards yourself, choosing to stare down at the small remainder of your coffee rather than to make eye contact with your team members.

"What an asshole," JJ says, lacing her arms together, until she looks like a disapproving mother. "Did he say why?"

"He said, we were going different places, and it would be a disservice to the time we spent together to pretend to be happy and keep lying to eachother," you say, sighing and putting the mug down, choosing to accept this caring interrogation about your breakup as your fate for the next twenty minutes.

"He used those words?" Emily asks, still trying to grapple the concept that your boyfriend, who she had met on a few occasions and had some thoughts she kept to herself about, had broken up with you.

"He used those words but what he really meant was 'I want to start sleeping with my twenty year old coworker and you spend too much time at work, so I'm ending things,' but he won't have the decency to admit that, despite the fact he was sleeping with her before the week was out," you roll your eyes as Emily and JJ continue to voice their disgust, loudly across the bullpen. You catch Spencer's eye for a moment and give him a small sad smile across the room, he nods and then looks away.

The guilt is eating Spencer alive. It's not like he actually had anything to do with the end of your relationship, he actively kept himself far away from it and even discussing it with you as possible. But the facts still remained the same, he likes you. He has liked you since your first day at the BAU and his feelings have never faltered. But you have always been in that relationship since long before he met you, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance, and he wouldn't want to mess around with that anyway. But he was unable to disagree with Prentiss, his own feelings for you aside, the simple fact of the matter was you have always been well out of your exes league. You are beautiful, and intelligent and charismatic, and your ex thought he was those things but more often than not fell short.

It's not like he even wished that your relationship would end and could blame it on the unlikely event of magical intervention. But the sheer fact that he was undeniably happier that you were no longer dating a man you were once very much in love with, that was enough to have him feeling guilty. Which is one of the many reasons he is really trying to not get involved in this conversation. One of the many reasons he is trying to keep a distance.

"How long were you two together again, like three years?" JJ asks. You shake your head.

"High school sweethearts," you correct her, "it's been a lot longer than three years."

"And he broke up with you over the phone, for a co-worker?" Emily emphasis each word in the sentence as she slowly sounds them out.

"He denies the last part but, yes," you nod.

"What are you beautiful ladies being so loud about?" Derek asks, approaching the three of you with some files in hand.

"The fact that men never fail to both disappoint and astound me," Emily states looking up at Derek from her seat, "no offence."

"None taken, but a little context wouldn't go a miss," he says looking at each of you in turn.

"My ex is a pig," you explain as nonchalantly as you can manage. You're trying really hard to be very collected about this. You've had a few days to process the breakup and you knew it was coming, even if you won't admit that to yourself. But being broken up with hurts, whether you see it coming or not. He was the only person you ever really dated, and having spent so much of your life with him this was a big adjustment. But deep down you weren't exactly mad about the situation, as much as it made you feel a lot better to complain about it. Things had not been right between the two of you for quite some time, and you find yourself almost relieved that it's over. But that still gave him no right to be as much of an asshole about it all as he has been.

"So he is the only guy you've ever really dated then, huh?" Emily asks. You give her a look as the thought crosses through her mind. "Wait, does that mean?"

"We started dating when we were barely more than kids Emily," you defend.

"So it's just been that guy, that guy?" Emily is struggling to be even the smallest part composed. "What is wrong with men?"

"You need some strange," Derek says casually.

"Morgan," JJ scolds him but Emily is slowly nodding her head. "Emily..."

"Best way to get over someone," Emily points out.

"Wow, I am not getting under anyone," you state, holding up your hands.

"Look, I understand the appeal of someone you've been with for a long time, they know you, they know what you like," Derek leans back on the table, "so new is risky, and some people really don't have a clue what they're doing I'll admit," he chuckles, "but trust me the longer you leave it-" Derek knows he isn't crossing a boundary, you and him have had plenty of conversations, but as soon as you give him the look to stop talking, he stops.

"I appreciate your concern but sex, is really not at the top of my priority list," you say.

"Please don't let a guy like that ruin it for you," Emily is staring up at the ceiling all types of distressed at the idea of your ex and his general existence.

"I don't think you need to worry about him ruining anything for me, more like just wasting my time," you say before realising that may be revealing too much. All three of them look at you instantly. "Do not read into that."

"Disinterest," Emily states looking you up and down. "And no immediate desire to release that usually comes with a breakup."

"We're not really doing this, are we?" JJ asks looking between the two profilers concerned.

"She's been distant the last few months, talking less and less about him, so the breakup wasn't unexpected, which means the sexlife probably wasn't up to scratch at the time," Derek adds.

"Oh you guys are doing this," JJ gives you an apologetic look as they start rattling off assumptions.

You try your best to ignore them until Derek says something which does tiptoe over the line- by a mile. "Pretty boy, what are the statistics on post breakup sex?" He is half joking but it pulls Spencer directly into a conversation he had been trying to avoid.

Spencer knows the answer, and that's obvious, but answering will only encourage them to get him involved in the conversation. But not answering is suspicious and could cause worse problems. He pushes his thumb into the centre of his palm as he speaks. "27% of adults report having sex with an ex within a two-year period," Spencer states knowing that's not what Derek meant but hoping he could get away with it.

"No, I mean rebound sex," Derek corrects.

"Studies show that thirty-five percent of those who are broken up with have sex to get over their ex, and twenty-five percent as a form of revenge," Spencer says giving in and stepping closer to the group.

"Look sixty five percent of rebound relationships fail within six months," you say. That's a safe thing to say you believe, as you know the team would likely assign that research as an attempt to make an educated guess how long the fling with the coworker would last. But Spencer knows better. He cannot help but wonder if that's what has been making you act differently the last few months. If you saw the end in sight and wondered what that means for you when it's over.

"You're not looking for a relationship though, you're just looking for some fun," JJ points out.

"You do remember how to have fun, don't you beautiful," Derek asks giving you a wink.

"Yeah," you say brushing him off.

"Do you?" Derek asks, unconvinced.

"I told you, I'm not interested in going out and getting laid, it's not worth the energy," you say.

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" Emily asks. Spencer chokes on his coffee.

"Emily!" JJ chastises her.

"Someone had to ask," Emily says.

"No one had to," you tell her.

"Come on, six months?" Emily asks. "A year?"

"Emily," JJ warns.

"Shit..." Derek whispers and you feel his gaze on you intensifying. He has you all figured out.

"What?" Spencer asks, not meaning to.

Derek is keeping his eyes on you and you cannot meet his eye. "Tell me I'm wrong pretty girl," Derek says, wanting himself to be wrong.

"I... I don't know... You're a profiler, how am I supposed to lie to you?" You huff.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks.

"Derek you're not helping," you state.

"Sorry," he says, "I just don't understand how that can be the case."

"You said it yourself, some people really don't have a clue what they're doing," you say.

"So you've never?" Emily asks cottoning on.

"Can we please stop talking about this," you say.

Spencer's brain is ticking over trying to read between the lines and when it clicks he is struck with a similar dumbfounding as Morgan. How? How?

He cannot help but have one clear thought scrambling around his brain at a million miles per hour. If he had ever had the chance, he wouldn't have wanted anything more than to make sure you felt good. To know he had made you feel good.

How inconsiderate could your ex be? How little attention must he have been playing to not even notice that you were not getting what he was out of it? How had he never cared to make that better?

And why did you not feel cheated by that fact?

"I'm not eavesdropping," Garcia defends bringing Spencer out of his head and back into the room.

"Okay why don't we just fax everyone the stats on my sex life," you groan, resting your head in your hands.

"I'm just saying," Garcia tries.

"I appreciate all of the unnecessary concern," you say, "but my sex life isn't a BAU case." Emily smiles as she goes to speak but you catch her thought right before she opens her mouth. "And it's no ones problem to solve either."

"It's a little tragic," JJ confesses.

"JJ," you're surprised, JJ is normally the one you can count on to get the others back on track but she just shrugs.

"Let's leave it be, Garcia do we have a case," Spencer is talking with his hands even more than normal and you cannot help but notice. He is trying to come to your rescue and you appreciate that. You appreciate everything Spencer does.

"Maybe," Garcia explains, waving her tablet at the group. "Hotch wants us in the conference room, five minutes ago."

You're quick to get out of your seat and away from the grilling you are receiving from the team and everyone else is quick behind you. Hotch and Rossi are at the desk when you all enter.

Hotch frowns. "You took a while," he notes.

"Discussing the breakup?" Rossi asks, looking you up and down.

"I dont even want to know what has given that away," you admit taking a seat. Hotch nods a half apology which you silently shrug off in return.

You were trying your best to pay attention, giving Hotch the respect he deserves, but the case he was talking about didnt feel like it required the BAU's involvement and Emily is quick to voice that opinion. You managed to register a few words about consulting and favours, but nothing is really sinking in, not when you can feel Spencer's gaze on you as hot as a fever.

You raise your eyes to meet his and they dart away. You think back, and it occurs to you that maybe conversations about your sex life or anyone of the teams sex lives for that matter wasnt exactly what Spencer signed up for. You feel a little guilty, knowing you kind of indulged the others and let him get pulled into the conversation even if that wasnt your intention.

You catch him looking at you again but he doesnt see you looking back, it's like he is trapped in a thought, and in this moment you've never seen Spencer look so without a clue.

"Reid?" Hotch asks, repeating the question.

Spencer looks to Hotch, and he buffers. You know he knows the answer to the question, you know he always knows, but his brain seems to have frozen up on him. "I... sorry what?"

"This is statistics kid," Derek says, "are you sick or something?"

Emily gently pokes Spencers shoulder. "Maybe he is getting a software update," she jokes.

You lean forward and give Hotch the answer he is looking for, remembering from a conversation you and Spencer had a few weeks back about Ohio. Hotch gives a side eye to Rossi before continuing.

You look back at Spencer and he is watching you again, you offer him a small smile and he returns it. You've always been better at reading Spencer than most members of the team but you don't recognize this behaviour at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him as you both make your way down the steps of the BAU.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"You blanked back there, Spence, pretty hard," you say as gently as you can, "I havent seen you like that since..."

"Since when?" Spencer looks curious, and softer somehow.

"Since we worked that case in Illinois, with the models, you took one look at that girl Annie Grant was it, and your IQ dropped like a hundred points," you laugh gently.

"She was pretty," Spencer confesses.

"I think Morgan got her number," you recall.

"He did," Spencer agrees.

"So, what is it? Because it's not a pretty girl in lounge wear," you say.

"You dont know that for sure," you can tell he is trying to joke around the subject, and normally youd find that cute. Cute in the kind of way you havent been able to admit to yourself before. Because having a crush on a coworker is not convenient at the best of times.

"Okay, Dr Reid, keep your secrets," you give him gentle shove and his smile is disarming, soft and so happy to just be involved. "Got any fun evening plans?"

"There's this new study into cognitive dissonance in specific trauma patterns I have been meaning to read," he offers. You bite back a chuckle.

"You've got a date with science," you nod to yourself, "of course you do."

He looks around, thinking for a moment. "Are you going to walk?" He asks.

"I usually do," you admit, "it's only a few blocks after all."

"Can I," he pauses, "can I walk you?"

"You want to walk me home?" You ask, a little suprised at the offer.

"If that's okay, the study can wait," he says. There is a look in his eyes you can't quite pinpoint, somewhere between pleading and hopeful. You nod.

"I'd love that Spence."

The distance to your apartment door had never felt so short, and you hadn't realised until now quite how much you enjoyed the moments when you were with Spencer, and no one else was watching. Maybe because he paid less attention to making sure no one noticed him watching you, and he just keeps watching.

Spencer looks at his feet as you fumble with your keys, he has no idea what he is doing. He didn't think any of this through, he just kept thinking about you, and what you deserved and what you should've always been given and now he is stood at the doorstep of your place with no plan, no idea of what compelled him to think any of this was a good idea and no idea of what to do next.

You smile at him, and bite your lower lip just a small bit, the look is so demure that Spencer wonders if he imagined the entire conversation in the bullpen, wondering if maybe he was really so wrapped up in these months of conflicted feelings for you that he managed to lapse from reality so badly that he got himself here.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" You offer and his heart damn near stops in his chest.

"Coffee is never coffee kid," Derek's voice rings in his head. "It's an invitation."

"Got decaf?" Spencer asks, and you laugh.

"Like anyone who works at the BAU knows what decaf is," you open the door wide and walk through. "You coming?"

He doesn't answer but follows you, closing the door behind him. Your apartment isn't a mess but it's clear things have been moved around since your breakup, there is clear empty spaces where things once collected dust, like so many things once filled a place and vanished. You weren't dwelling on the relationship, because there wasn't a point. You had loved and you had lost, and you knew it went like that sometimes.

"You better not be profiling me Dr Reid," you quip as you catch him looking around.

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"So, are you going to explain why you're being so sheepish?" You ask, reaching for a mug, to actually make coffee.

"I'm being sheepish?" he asks. He had hoped he was hiding it better.

"Nervous at the very least," you say putting the kettle on. He says nothing and you sigh. "Did we make you uncomfortable earlier?"

"What?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Talking about my ex," you offer up. "I know that sort of gossip isn't exactly for everyone-,"

"No," he is quick to defend, "that's not what's bothering me."

You smirk and he sees the trap you laid for him that he walked right into. "So something is bothering you pretty boy," Morgan's nickname for him falls from your lips and it sounds so different. It burns every nerve ending, each fibre of his being and he forgets how to speak for a moment too long. "Spence?"

"I," he brings himself back.

"I don't mean to pry, you don't have to tell me anything," you explain quickly.

"How was your ex such an idiot?" he asks outright. You laugh, it's short and shallow because you're not expecting anything close to that from Spencer.

"What?" It's your turn to feel dumb now as you spiral trying to process what Spencer is suggesting. That the conversation had gotten to him, but not in the way you'd thought. His problem hadn't been with the topic but the content, the confession. The kettle brings itself to a boil but you're interest is elsewhere now.

"I don't mean to speak out of place here, but if I were him there are so many things I would've done differently," he fidgets with his tie but doesn't stop. This confession is coming out now or not at all and he wants it finished. He needs it finished. He does not want blurred lines. Not between the two of you. "Not even touching the subject of how your relationship ended. I wouldn't have left you in the rain last October, I wouldn't have held all the things I knew about you when we met as reasons to run years after I agreed to love you regardless. I wouldn't have let you go to work angry all those times. I wouldn't have lied about plans. I wouldn't have let you go to sleep sad or angry, and be gone in the morning. I wouldn't have left you wanting, for anything. Because if I was him I would understand what a beautiful rarity it is to find someone who does what you do, with your compassion and determination and dedication and is still kind, still hopeful, even when things are dark. There are not a lot of things I don't know much about, and maybe relationships, and romance and sex are in that limited list, and maybe he would argue that hypotheticals hold no ground when your experience is as limited as mine, but I frankly don't care what his opinion would be. Because he didn't see you for what you are and that means his thoughts are of no value to me. I don't tell you this because I am expecting you to say anything, it's just burning me up that you weren't treated, hell worshiped, in the way you deserved and I had to tell you that I can't think of anything more wrong." He steps back and you're still catching your breath. "I, I am sorry I shouldn't have... I will see you at work."

He turns and strides to the door, and your breath heaves in and out of your chest and you wonder if you can find your voice before his hand finds purchase on your doors lock. "Spencer," you breathe out. He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle.

"Yes?" his voice is so quiet, and he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Please don't leave," the request falls from your lips and Spencer has never felt more of a need to do something than to do anything you ask of him in this moment. But his doubt still hangs gently in the space between the two of you.

"What?" he asks again, searching in the word to find something to hold onto, looking for some guidance or instructions he missed. He didn't have a plan, and he doesn't know what to do with this.

"Please," you say again, voice sturdier now as you start to close the distance between the two of you, "Spence," his breath hitches as you place a hand gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to you, and he does, "don't leave."

His eyes stare into yours and you swear you feel all the months of unsaid things, of quiet wanting, of stolen thoughts in weak moments, bursting at the seams. You had told yourself in another world, another life time, had you met Spencer Reid and the timing had been different, if you had been different, he would've been everything. You told yourself from that first day that those brown eyes may plead into you with every moment you meet them but it was never going to be the right time.

His eyes stare into yours and he feels the weight of all the things he long tired to bury, crawling their way up from the depths and pushing against his skin, desperate to get out. Desperate to be known. Desperate to correct the wrongs and do right by you. Desperate.

His hand hovers touch's length away, scared to close the distance, scared to make the move, to change everything. You both know in this moment, that all it takes is one touch and you're going over the cliff.

This is a road you do not turn back from.

You whisper one last time, like a prayer, "Spence," and in a blink gravity turns back on, and everything blooms in bright technicolour.

It unfolds in a rush, his hand to your waist, pulling you that much closer, both of your hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you up to him, other hand moving gently under your chin to guide the tilt of your head. His lips crash onto yours and there's a hunger you've never seen in him, and a hunger you've never known inside yourself.

There's a gentleness, a caution in his desperation, in his need, one that you don't have in your own. He keeps kissing you and you back up, footing not very careful as you tighten your grip on his shirt. Your back finds support against the edge of your counter and you find yourself letting on of the hands slip from the fabric of his button down to tug at his tie, to keep him closer at first, and then in an attempt to remove it entirely.

He pulls back for a moment, not to catch breath as either of you would be happy to drown in this moment, but his eyes are scanning you, like he is looking for something else, something missing.

You pause, slowly tugging the tie from his collar and letting it fall to your floor. "Spencer?" you ask.

He looks lost as he breathes in. "I don't know what I am doing," he says.

"You're doing great is what you're doing," you say, not looking away.

"Is this okay?" he finally asks. Your heart starts running away from you as you try to remember to breathe.

"This is more than okay," you assure him, "please Spencer, don't stop kissing me."

That's all he needs to hear and his lips are back on yours and the kisses are feverish and starved and he presses his hands into your hips and the gentle moan that leaves your lips sends Spencer's mind spinning.

He pulls his lips from yours and starts kissing a trail down to your neck, you lean more into the support of the counter top and let a hand find it's way into a tangle of his brown hair.

His tongue against your skin, the gentle brush of teeth on that spot that makes the sound from before seem like a draft of a masterpiece. Spencer knows that now he has heard you, voice like honey, moan trembling from your lips, nails dug into his scalp gently tugging on his hair, barely able to keep your eyes open yet again your breathing steady, no sound will ever compare.

In the the times he had let himself think about you, imagine all the things, let his fantasies and dreams run away with him, he had never come close to this moment. How your fingers shake as you start to unbutton his shirt, needing to do something, needing something.

Needing him.

And you can feel his need in return, in the way he holds onto you, on the way he is listening to your body, hearing every response, feeling every movement, determined to do this right.

He feels the way you press your tights together, tight against the counter, the need for something more radiating off of you, and you don't give time for the doubt to creep in. "We should," you breathe out as you feel the blood rushing through you, knowing that there will be marks from where he is kissing you that you won't be able to hide tomorrow, not that you want to, "move this to the bedroom."

"Is now a bad time to point out that I have mostly just a conceptual understanding of what we are about to do?" Spencer asks between kisses.

"I think you're worrying too much, because if you're basing this on theory," you take his hand leading him towards your room, "so far you're giving nothing but hard evidence."

You let your own innuendo slide as you both fall back onto your bed, he looks down as he leans over you, and there's a softness, a patience in this moment, as he needs to soak it all in.

You reach up and continue to undo the buttons on his shirt until they are completely undone, and he watches you as you do, you give the fabric a gentle tug and he catches on, slipping the rest of the shirt and the jacket off and letting it fall back somewhere out of mind. You trace a hand gently up his arm and he leans down to kiss you again, your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He runs a thumb over the deep red mark he has left and you feel the fever rising again. You need out of these clothes, you need more.

You start to undo your own shirt buttons and as each button comes undone Spencer follows the trail of exposed skin and leaves hot kisses on each new place.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as you reach to unzip the side of your skirt. The nervousness is still fluttering in Spencer's face as he helps you slip out of it. His fingertips brushing over exposed skin, his hand creeping up the inside of your thigh and you buck up gently at the touch.

His lips trace kisses up your torso to your chest and like this, each kiss so intoxicating, each touch so electrifying, his hand inching further and further up your thigh, as his lips dance over the skin around the fabric of your bra there is nothing he could ask of you that you would not do.

Sex may never have been perfect before, but you'd always thought it was at least decent, passing, respectable. But this build up with Spencer, his hands on your skin, his lips leaving evidence on your body that he has been here, this was more than you'd ever felt. And he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You reach to undo his trousers, eager to get him in less clothing but he pulls back, out of your reach. "Not yet," he whispers against your skin, "you start doing that and this will be over way too soon." He brings his lips to yours again, stealing a deep kiss as he unclasps your bra. "And this is about you, all about you," he is mumbling again, almost incoherent against you. He is determined, his mind is focused on you and your pleasure and what you deserve.

You don't think you've ever wanted anything as much as you want this.

His thumb brushes against the your clothed skin, and sparks shoot through your body, nails digging into his shoulder as you gasp at the contact.

He nudges closer, his forehead pressed to yours, and you look at him. Spencer, your colleague, your friend. Spencer who never forgets your coffee order. Spencer who stayed all night to help with paperwork because you lost a bet. Spencer who has accompanied you to every movie you've ever asked him to. Spencer who bought an extra ticket to every convention just in case you would want to come.

"Please," you plead, like you need to, as if it was possible that he wouldn't do anything for you in this moment. As if you even needed to ask.

He kisses you, pulling you up and towards him, breathing you in as his hand finds its way between the elastic of your underwear and your skin.

Your nerves are as quick to respond to his touch as fire to a accelerant. Every movement makes you wonder if Spencer was given some map of your body that you didn't know existed, a guide to movement and pressure and timing that couldn't be more perfect.

You are nodding at his movements, keening at every increase of pace, every finger curl, every swipe of his thumb. Your body shuddering in anticipation and a pleasure you never knew courses through you.

Spencer is leaving compliments with every kiss across your body, so eager to please, so desperate to worship. When he hits the spot, your body gives you away at alarming speed, you buck, moving your arms to prop yourself up on elbows, leaning into him, into the movements, rutting against him. "Fuck," you manage in the haze.

Spencer responds to this approval with dedication and vigour and then you feel it, that hot white coil of pleasure pulling at you, like a tight chord. "Shit," you start breathing heavier, faster, "shit, shit."

"You're so incredibly beautiful," you hear Spencer whisper. You can't keep your eyes open as your knees begin to shake.

"Spencer," you whimper, not for any reason but to say his name. The need to say his name over and over, and over as the chord pulls tight and finally snaps.

The pleasure explodes through you, every nerve tingling, like fireworks cascading through you. You shake, riding the high through and fall back onto the bed, slumped with a laboured breath.

Spencer moves back up to be level with you, gently brushes some stray hairs from your face and he smiles down at you. "That is what it's supposed to feel like?" You ask.

If this was all he could have for the rest of his life, Spencer would be a happy man. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and that look of devotion has not left his eyes.

But he has been filled with a new sense of purpose, like he was made for this. For you.

He doesn't have time to debate internally if your ex was purely just that poor at what he did or if it feeling so easy, coming so naturally to him was something else entirely. He didn't really care which it was, maybe both. Right now all he cared about was making up for lost time, lost opportunities, all your disappointment.

He kisses you again and the force of it is more knowing, more sure, it's hot and messy and every moment it feels like you need to be closer, deeper, more entwined. The whole time he keeps his hand in your underwear, thumb running in soft, intensely accurate circles as his fingers do most of the work.

It crosses your mind that maybe it should be almost embarrassing that he is making it so easy. It should be embarrassing that Spencer barely needed any time to bring that second orgasm to precipice. It should be embarrassing that you're convinced this man could make you come by the way he kisses you alone, but you're not embarrassed. Not because you've never felt the pleasure like this before, not because you think pleasure it never something to be embarrassed about and not because after everything you deserve this. But because it's Spencer Reid, and everything with him has always felt like it is exactly as it should be, and him making you feel this way, is no exception.

He holds you in the kiss as your second orgasm pulses through you, just as intense as the first one, he feels you shake as it floods you. A moan escaping into the kiss, from your mouth to his and he groans against your lips.

He is so focused on you that he isn't paying any attention to how this is effecting him, how hard he is against you. How desperate he is for you. His need for your pleasure overtaking any need of his own.

You know if left to his own devices Spencer would stay as the two of you are, skin pressed to skin, lips on yours, trying to write years worth of wrongs in one night. But you do not want to give into exhaustion before you have let him ruin your expectations in all the ways you know.

He moves from your lips to your neck and before you can process much of his plans you feel the kisses trailing your hipbone, and with the third orgasm approaching you can see where his mind has wondered to. You lean forward, gasping in pleasure, but determined to get his attention, you place a hand on the side of his face, tilting up his chin to meet your eyes. "Wait," is all you manage to moan out before the pleasure tears into you, your head falls back and you grab a fistful of sheet, trying to keep yourself up through the pleasure.

Spencer does as you ask and waits until you manage to gather your words, eyes on you. "Please," you try. He runs his eyes over your body trying to understand your request.

You reach down, pulling once again at the edge of his trousers, fumbling to undo them, to get him out of them. You've never known Spencer to be so slow to catch on, but he is practically drunk on you.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh."

Before he can start to explain all the reasons he doesn't think that's important right now you look up at him with those eyes so pleading. "Please," you whisper again.

And he is putty in your hand, happy to do anything you ask of him, he nods and you finish undoing his trousers and push them down, he finishes discarding them.

Now it's your fingertips against his skin and he holds his breath as you move for his boxers. "Is this okay?" you ask quietly.

"You're everything I have ever wanted," the honey leaves his lips and you kiss him, his lips focused on you as you help him out of his boxers and pull him down and close.

"I need you," you whisper. "Right now, I need you."

"I am yours," he responds.

You keep your fingers threaded in his hair, and you tug a little harder as you become overwhelmed with him. "Fuck," Spencer's voice shudders in pleasure and you understand his desperation to please you instantly, because you want nothing more than to give him everything.

Everything becomes a mixture of moans and names, lips pressed to skin, and fabric scrunched with every thrust. You kiss Spencer's neck, finding his sweet spot with a similar precision to which he found yours. Leaving a collection of marks on his neck before her buries his face into yours, repeating your name over and over, becoming more and more wanting. His neediness matching your own and as he digs his fingers into your hips that now familiar feeling starts to rush you.

"Spencer, I am going to cum again," you whisper. Spencer cannot form words, he just keeps kissing, sucking, digging at your skin, even now he isn't close enough to you. "Fuck!" You scream out and the pleasure of your orgasm is almost too much for Spencer.

"Fuck, I," Spencer's brain is doing flips trying to figure out what to do, what he is supposed to do. "I am going to."

"Please," you beg in his ear.

"I should, I haven't," he is trying to piece the words together but they're not coming. You know what is trying to say, what is cannot find the words to ask.

"Please stay with me," you say, nudging his nose with your own, "please."

Your gentle request is his breaking point and he crashes his lips back onto yours as his own orgasm comes to fruition.

He collapses down next to you, both catching your breath. "Fuck," you repeat, for what might be the millionth time, as you long lost count.

You cannot help it, you let out a little laugh and Spencer glances at you, a smile breaking out on his face. "For the record, I hadn't planned that," he says.

"For the record, I really planned on drinking my coffee."

"I can make you a coffee," Spencer offers, turning to his side.

"We should, get cleaned up first," you smile.

"Then coffee?"

"Then coffee."

[willowed-wisp]

HER KNIGHT, HIS HEART - part one

previous | next

Ser Harwin Strong x fem!OC/reader insert

WARNINGs: swearing, violence, suggestive themes. This will be an 18+ series.



It wasn’t easy, the pressure on her shoulders. Neither was being the eldest daughter to the King’s Hand.

Elspeth couldn’t marry for love, Otto would never allow it. Instead she had been prepared to make the highest match possible. Her father being the Hand of the King made that all too possible- brushing shoulders with royalty and noblemen. Unlike her younger sister- Elspeth didn’t hang on their father’s every word. She had a mind of her own and could muster her own life.

The nineteen year old could choose her friends, however. It just so happened that her best friend was found in the Princess of The Seven Kingdoms, Rhaenyra. It was fate. The pair were kindred in spirit, both quick to tempers raging hotter than dragon fyre.

Only the other understood that pent up rage. Caused from the years of pressure yet to pass. Elspeth was of age and Rhaenyra was at its cusp. Being born into the highest ranks of nobility meant marriage of convenience, a princess and daughter to the Hand weren’t above that duty.

And Elspeth knew that all too well.

“You have a duty to this family, Elspeth, you shall not be so selfish.” When she thought her father had redeeming qualities he would undermine her forgiveness. Always.

“I shan’t marry Jason Lannister! He is pompous, vile and twice my age!” Otto took a step forward, Elspeth a step back. His steely demeanour was too much for her to endure. Yet she stood mighty and true. He still stared down at her. “I’m not just something you can sell.”

“The only use you have to this House is to be wed,” she knew that. Every woman of high standing knew their only purpose l was to married and produce heirs. That didn’t mean Elspeth agreed with it. “The Gods are merciful, covering your antics in Oldtown.”

“I was only singing.” Dismissive, it wasn’t as greater deal as he made out.

“ Skirt up to your thighs, commoners around you… if your mother was alive…”

“My mother encouraged me to live! She would have been proud!”

“You looked like a common whore!” Her back to him- leaving Otto Hightower in his own company. Elspeth would not waste another breath. Elspeth Hightower never had and never would adhere to orders, least of all his.

This wasn’t Oldtown. And she wasn’t some ‘common whore’.

She needed to blow off some steam before self-implosion. How she wished she could ride a dragon; envious of Rhaenyra and Syrax. It hadn’t stopped her from learning the Valyrian tongue.

Elspeth required unbecoming relief.

Metal pummelled into straw, the Hightower punctuating her thoughts with a heaved swing.

‘Why do I have to marry?’

‘Why does he want rid of me?’

‘Why can’t I live my life by my own terms?’

That last one left the destructible mannequin ripped apart in a bedlam of hay on the ground.

She didn’t feel at all relieved. Dragon blood boiling, sometimes she felt like a Targaryen. “Who the fuck could tame me?” Spoken louder than intended- more of a shout. The woman didn’t mind, wearing trousers as a maiden was looked down upon. Especially in the eyes of her father.

Elspeth feared that these flames would one day consume herself. And she feared anybody caught in the crossfire. “Now, why in the Seven Kingdoms does Lady Hightower need taming?”

“She doesn’t.” The words spilled before she recognised the voice. Gruff and stubborn, yet she knew him to be gentle. Auburn hair tousled to meet a grinning face and silvery eyes. “Strong. You didn’t hear any of that.”

His lips thinned, “As you wish, my Lady,” The leather-wearing man stood a head taller- shadowing her. Elspeth used to be intimidated by the man from a young age. She had known him basically all of her life.

“You are lingering,” a slight bite, yet she assumed he was used to her. Or should have been. “Speak freely, I’d appreciate your counsel.” Sheathing her sword his gloved hand held the pommel.

His stance broad, “What do you wish to discuss?” She motioned for the pair to walk at each other’s side- yet he remained standing still. Regrettably unable to order him around- he bore the higher social standing. Elspeth resorted to his wishes.

“The King’s Hand is attempting to secure a betrothal in my name,” he chuckled at the maiden, “What is so amusing?” Her tone was laced in boredom as her eyes rolled.

Hulking shoulders shrugged, “You barely tolerate my presence and yet you ask me for counsel concerning your Lord father… what has gotten into you?” No trace of malice or discontent hidden in his words- she didn’t take him for a man of deep thought. Then again Elspeth hadn’t really gotten to know Harwin Strong.

“You are impartial and are quite fair, when you’re not breaking others’ bones in tourneys.” That made him smug- still grinning ear to ear. Why did he smile so wide? Wielding the sword, a large hand gloved her own- her skin ignited with a buzzing in her ears.

She instantly glared, he grinned, “Stop angering your father,” the stare less sinister on her part, “He doesn’t take kindly to you wielding a sword.” So he meant to disarm her, she didn’t think so.

“I’ll do as I please,”The woman snatched the sword, while the knight pulled both girl and sword toward himself. Arms clashing with cool fabric, brow inches away from his as was the contrasting smirk.

He forced it higher- Elspeth couldn’t have gotten closer if she tried. “You asked for counsel, my Lady.”

Fingers unlatched from the weapon- cheeks ablaze, “That doesn’t mean I have to adhere to it,” Elspeth held a distance- processing his words. “Shouldn’t you be at Harrenhal? Rather than playing knight?” That smile never faded from his face.

Taking a step closer, “I’ll have you know, I’m joining the City Watch in two namedays. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, I’m afraid.”Her eyes rolled at his joviality. He was going to become a pain in her arse.

“Does that mean you’re competing in the tourney later?” Eyes of sparkling green beamed into his of steel.

A nod.

Elspeth curtsied- maybe she shouldn’t incur the wrath of Otto Hightower for the headache it caused. “I will see you there, Strong,” her back turned now to him.

“It’s Harwin…” She had known him for well over a decade, yet the habit didn’t die hard. He was a Lord after all and heir to Harrenhal and the Strong family, whereas she’d inherit the name of her betrothed- not that of her own.

Long, waved hair settled and her head turned, “Farewell, Ser Harwin.”

But he didn’t relent, “And you’ll be in the royal box?”

His eyes bright so she could see them from the distance covered, “What of it?” She was growing impatient.

“I just wanted to know where to receive your favour,” The smile diabolical- heat warmed her centre. She wasn’t naive, she’d been to taverns joined with pleasure houses. For the knight, Elspeth couldn’t harbour such feelings for him. It wasn’t destined for her. “Take care, my Lady.”

She turned for a final time, memorising Harwin Strong’s smirk, his eyes… memorising him.

“Where have you been? Father has been looking for you,” Elspeth wasn’t sure whether or not Alicent was truly a sweet little girl or a suck up to garner favour. Needless to say the youngest daughter was their father’s favourite- but at least Elspeth didn’t wear a mask.

She waved the news off, “When have I ever listened to our father’s orders?” Her younger sister silent, hands at her front- nails bloodied. Enough for Elspeth to grasp her palms for closer inspection, “What have I told you? This world is already cruel enough, don’t scorn yourself by your own hand.” Even if Alicent was petulant at times, Elspeth still loved her until the ground started shaking and the World ended altogether.

A sorrowful look from the younger, “Is this about mother?” A nod and she brought Alicent into her side - a crushing hug. Elspeth felt her kin tremble, she held the girl up. Tears shedding

Though, that was both of the sisters.

“I miss her, Elsie.”

“As do I,” a long inhale, “But we are strong, Alie. We are Hightowers, we light the way. I love you, more than Gwayne,” both found humour. Laughing with each other. “If I’m not mistaken, we have a princess to attend.”

The youthful face of Alicent Hightower lit up again, as tears were wiped by Elspeth’s emerald sleeve. “You’re just like mother,” the older’s heart shone at those words. She always had a likeness to their late Lady mother- comments enough to be memorable. But Elspeth never saw it, for her and Alicent their mother was the most beautiful woman in court. After she passed, Alicent thought the same of ‘her Elsie’.

She plainly smiled at Alicent. “What did father say he wanted?”

“He didn’t actually want anything, you just haven’t spoken to me since…” Even Elspeth would admit it, she was ignorant and rude. There were no excuses for her behaviour, though she hadn’t been the same since her mother’s death. Especially Otto. His leash on his eldest daughter had grown shorter in those following months.

Elspeth would light her own way.

[xelasrecords]

Tea! Would You Like Some?

Han Jumin x Reader

Jumin Week 2023 - Day 3: Quality Time @juminweek2019

High-quality time shared between two people highly stupid about their feelings. And for each other.

My x reader comeback after so long! Had a meet cute recently so y'all get a lighthearted crushing stage fic for once :)

Words: 3.9k

Masterlist Read on AO3

How soon you could come had no correlation to Jumin's expectation of seeing you materialise in his living room. At least, that was what he told himself. His traitorous fingers told a different thing. They had typed out a message asking where you were, if there was any problem with your ride, if you had input the correct address in your map, and if he needed to send out a search party if you didn't reply in the next five minutes, but that, he felt, would be too drastic.

Jumin erased the last part and sent the text. He sighed, fingers drumming on the arm of his white sofa. Contrary to Zen's belief, he was not one to blow things out of proportion. He always did just enough and everything else was simply a precaution.

Perhaps a five-minute grace was not precaution enough. Four minutes. He could wait for four.

The second his doorbell rang, Jumin leapt to his feet. He never considered the distance from the living room to the entrance too far, but now he doubted the interior design of his penthouse. Large spaces allowed him to breathe—until you took it away just by not reneging on your promise to visit. You were someone he had only met a handful of times, always with the other members and never at his own place.

Today was special. Today he decided to ignore his fear of being left behind by his loved ones and let you in.

You could be someone he loved. You could be the one who stayed.

Jumin composed himself and opened the door, and there you were, standing with your hands deep in your pockets, waiting for him.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you. Despite being mussed by the wind, your hair fell beautifully around your face like a divine frame that accentuated your features. Your eyes were bright, your smile was wide, and you were wrapped in a coat that must be your favourite. He never saw you without it. He wished he knew more about your fashion sense so he could gift you clothes that you would like. He also wished he was close enough to see himself in your eyes' reflection, but that time would come later. Everything had its order, and patience was a virtue that had been drilled into him since childhood.

"I have been waiting for you," said Jumin, not bothering to hide the relief in his voice. "Did anything happen on your way here? You didn't reply to my text."

"I was rushing." Your smile turned apologetic. "Didn't check my phone, sorry."

Jumin stepped aside to let you in. The fact that your hand could have grazed his had you walked nearer to him did not escape his attention. "No matter. It's all right now that you're here."

Leading you to the white plush sofa where he had waited with perfect calmness, he felt tense and oddly exposed, like he was anticipating a foreboding that might come to pass. He did not feel like Han Jumin. This was an iteration of him that he had not been acquainted with.

"Did I make you wait too long?" you asked.

"No," Jumin said. "You didn't have to hurry. You were not yet late." He hoped the sofa would be good enough for you. He had asked his housekeeper to clean off every speck of dust he could detect, twice over.

You sat down and stared at him with a look that he couldn't discern. "I wanted to be early."

Jumin took a seat beside you, careful to maintain a respectful distance despite his heart's protest. "You possess an excellent sense of time management. We will get along well." Compliments flowed out of him easily when it came to you. If you let him, he would graciously point out your strengths one by one.

But was that disappointment on your face?—though it disappeared before he could probe further. "Yes, I love time and managing stuff." You sighed. "That's why I'm the assigned party coordinator."

Now that you were at the spot where he had cast secret spells to summon you, Jumin wasn't sure what to say. He was desperate to know if you shared his jitters. You were motionless, spine straight and hands clasped on your lap, studiously watching the black television screen. There was nothing save for the blurred reflection of both of you sitting in a similar position. He had been imagining all sorts of exciting conversations with you, but your presence had flung them out of his head. This had never happened before. An MRI scan was in order after you went home.

It was possible that you were growing bored, though your affable expression had not indicated so. But it might not mean anything, for you always seemed pleasant. You were very, very pleasant to look at. It was also possible that he was the only one with an insatiable curiosity towards you. For all he knew, you could be with a partner and merely accepted his invitation to hang out with him as a newly anointed member of the RFA. And you were a member. This was a friendly meet-up, nothing more.

"Tea," said Jumin suddenly. His voice echoed in the silence.

Startled, your head snapped to him. "What?"

"Everyone in my family learns to brew tea," Jumin explained. "The tea leaves in my pantry are directly imported from China, obtained from the only six three-hundred-year-old Wuyi trees in existence. The legend of this tea can be traced back to the age of emperors and dynasties, and it has become extraordinarily rare over time. It has the best quality in the world."

"How did you get it if it's so rare?" You were trying to hold a smile back, but it was not a mocking sneer. There was a certain fondness in it that made him want to let all his guard down and pull you into his arms.

"Auctions," Jumin simply said. "You ought to try it. It will keep you warm." Only then he noticed that you still had your coat on and was promptly filled with horror. "My apologies. I seem to have lost my manners." He outstretched his arm. "Leave your coat with me. It can't have been comfortable sitting in that."

"Shame." You handed it over. "I was planning to take a nap in this."

"Is that how people normally sleep? Or is it a tradition unique to you?" Jumin folded your coat into a perfect half over his forearm. "I'd appreciate it if you could teach me your ways."

"I was joking, Jumin. Should I teach you how to make one?" you said, in a tone so kind that he was taken aback. People tended to laugh at his face or look away politely when he failed to understand a joke.

"There is no need. I already have a handbook for it." Jumin was unable to keep smugness out of his voice. "It includes a list of one hundred jokes that you can make to both family and work colleagues alike. I have made good use of it when I need to break the ice."

"But does it include learning how to take one?"

"Unfortunately, I have yet to encounter a book for it."

You squeezed his shoulder, and the warmth of your touch penetrated all layers of his clothing that he had carefully planned. Navy blue suit, black tie, complete with a beige waistcoat and white striped shirt. Everything was new. "Don't worry," you said. "It just means the joke isn't funny to you. A good joke will make you laugh naturally."

"I see." Jumin fixed his tie. "I promise to laugh at your next joke."

"I said naturally. Honestly, Jumin. Please don't plan for it. You're going to give me performance anxiety."

"Then I look forward to your performance." He smirked, and you groaned. Something about you brought out the childlike side in him that he didn't know was still alive. "If you would wait here for a moment. I shall brew you a cup of tea. It won't be long."

Without waiting for your response, Jumin stood up, hung your coat on the silver coat rack by the hallway, and headed to the kitchen. Something was wrong with him. A smile kept threatening to break out of his face and there was a palpable beating in his throat when it should stay underneath his ribcage and he felt giddy about something. He was sure that this was abnormal. Was he finally living up to Zen's senseless claim that he was a strange creature? Jumin stowed these additional symptoms away for his next doctor's appointment. Forget MRI, he needed a full-body checkup.

Jumin heard a soft padding behind him as he turned on the kettle. Your footsteps were quiet, almost drowned by the gurgling of the boiling water and it reminded him of the elegance of Elizabeth the Third. He'd introduce you to her when she decided to make an appearance. The thought of the two of you getting along put a smile on his face.

"I thought you would've offered me wine before tea. Are you really Jumin?" you teased, peering from behind him. He was scooping oolong tea leaves into the strainer in a precise measurement when his muscles turned rigid. Your chin was nearly perched on his shoulder. He regretted that you didn't.

But Jumin dearly wished he knew either. He paused and looked over at you. Now he could see himself in your mischievous eyes. Now he saw how happy he was. The opportunity came sooner than he was prepared for. His breath hitched. "Would you like some wine instead?" he asked, keeping his gaze steady. "I have a wide variety you can choose from in the cellar."

"Tea is fine," you said. "I'll take anything you give me, really."

"Beware," Jumin said dryly. "You have not known me long. There could be poison in your drink."

It took a second for his joke to register, but when it did, you started to laugh. Jumin was stunned, then relaxed when he realised you were not under any pretences of politeness. He felt as if he got a high score for a competition he had unknowingly participated. He never used to put high importance on winning. As someone who consistently broke his own records, achievements were just another thing that his office and father would hold a customary celebration for.

But you were different. Your laughter was a prize he wanted to win all the time. He liked seeing you in joy, and liked that he was the source of it. It was a high that he never wanted to come down from.

"Did you copy that joke from your handbook?" you asked.

"I came up with it on the spot," said Jumin proudly, and your grin widened.

Your eyes flitted to the only china cup laid out on the marble countertop. "Aren't you making another for yourself?"

Jumin shook his head. "I'm not in the mood for tea."

You lifted a brow. "I am so surprised."

Jumin's forehead furrowed in genuine confusion. "Why would you be?"

You flailed your arms about. "Is tea not your passion?" you said. "You were fired up when you talked about it. That's all you've talked about. If I didn't know you better, I'd think it's your favourite drink in the world."

"I merely wanted to keep you warm, and a cup of tea was the fastest way to do it." Actually, Jumin thought being embraced by him would be faster, but he doubted you would accept his advanced advances. "You're the one who has been on my mind, not tea."

"Not tea," you repeated.

"It's nothing compared to you," Jumin affirmed.

"Oh." You pressed your palm against your cheek. "That's nice. You're nice." You gave a perfunctory sweep at his polished monochromatic penthouse, sparse but efficiently filled with the essential household items. "Your place is also nice."

But you were looking at everywhere but him, and that didn't feel as nice. "You might be the first person calling me nice besides V," Jumin said, deciding to focus on the positive. "And V is exempted as he is my closest friend. I'm not sure how to feel about this, to be honest. I'll have to think about it later."

"Take your time," you said, finally looking at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Quietly, Jumin poured hot water into the teacup and stirred sugar into the steaming amber liquid, allowing the clinking of the teaspoon to fill the space he couldn't. For all his desire to have his interest in you reciprocated, he could not picture the reality if you did. He wouldn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to invite you into his mind, yet was frightened by the thought of you being repelled after knowing him.

"Careful, it's hot," Jumin warned as you lifted the teacup to your lips. "Tell me, how do you find it? Is it to your taste?"

You took your time sipping the tea. He suspected you did it to keep him on his toes, and had to admit that it was part of your intrigue. Jumin could never guess your next move. Anything he predicted you would prove him wrong in the most delightful way possible.

You looked up from the rim of the cup. "What if I say it isn't?"

A connoisseur in understanding your jest now, Jumin replied, "I shall melt into a puddle and lie on the floor until you give me an honest review."

"I will mop your puddle and wring it out the window."

He looked at you thoughtfully. "I'd say I'm offended, but I heard that committing murder is an expressway to one's heart."

"Sometimes even literally," you agreed.

Jumin's eyes widened. "The double meaning escaped me. You are a genius."

You set your cup down on its saucer with a delicate clink. "But is murder the only way to your heart?"

Jumin forgot the mechanism of speaking. Due to his years of experience with women whom he never spared a glance for, he could detect the act of flirting when he saw one. And you were flirting. With him. He was eighty-nine per cent sure of it. You deemed him worthy to be flirted with. Jumin almost slid down to his knees.

"No." He managed to get a full sentence out. "No," he tried again, "but you don't even have to try. Whatever you're doing, you are doing it well." Two better sentences. Magnificent.

"That's too bad," you said. Jumin noticed that your hand was still wrapped around your cup, steam unfurling on the top of it. You must still be cold. "I've been waiting to hack through your chest with an axe."

Jumin walked towards the heater controller and turned it on. "Is homicide the only thing in your mind?"

"It's more of an ad break from the thoughts of you."

At that, Jumin turned around. You had been thinking about him. He knew how impossible it was to stop thinking about you, and your admission was making him lightheaded. Did you ever dream of him and then scramble for your phone the first thing in the morning just to hear his voice? Did you ever yearn to talk about him to your friends the way he did, except his only friend was doing his habitual disappearance and the loneliness was more profound now that you were his constant excitement but he had no one to tell it to? Did you have anyone you hold dear to your heart? Were you open to considering him as one someday? It was not yet appropriate to be so upfront with his questions, he knew.

But one question should be fine. "How long have you been thinking of me?" Jumin asked.

You leaned against the counter and crossed your legs. "I talk to you every day. So, every day." He wondered if your composure was a facade, the way his was.

Jumin nodded. "We share the same habit. I can't quite recall what I used to think about before you entered our lives."

"Your darling white cat, the cat projects that generate a steady loss for your company, and some new cat-friendly inventions? Jaehee's nightmares, basically."

Jumin chuckled. "You know me well. I must say I'm surprised." It wasn't so bad to be known. He could get used to the feeling. "Assistant Kang doesn't appreciate the fine things in life. It's a pity that Elizabeth the Third is hiding somewhere right now. If you see her, you'll understand why I do all those things for her."

"You love her," you said kindly. "I understand that enough."

Jumin stared at you. You kept saying the right things and he kept falling, falling, falling.

"You've finished your tea," Jumin noted, but not without regret. He dreaded having to let you go.

You studied the empty cup. "Wow, I think I inhaled it. You were right, it was the best tea I've ever tasted. Thank you."

"I hope you will stay longer. Do you have other arrangements for the evening?" Jumin, who had arranged his whole weekend around your visit, calmly inquired.

"I don't," you said, with just as much calmness.

"My collection doesn't stop at drinks," he said. "I have a brand new record player and an array of classic vinyls. You can peruse them if you'd like. A three-star Michelin chef will be flying in to prepare dinner and you can request anything you want, provided that you do it three hours prior. There's also a gym on the second floor, though exercising is probably not the best activity since you don't bring a change of clothes." He paused. "You don't happen to bring one, do you?"

"Jumin, I—no. But I could wear yours if I so desperately need to shower here."

He thought he saw your eyes suspiciously glittered, but it was gone when you blinked. "I don't have clothes that would fit you perfectly." He frowned. "They're all tailored to my body, you see. I'm afraid you wouldn't find much comfort in them. Now, would you like to sit down? I've made you stand for too long." He guided you to the kitchen island, fingers light around your wrist, and pulled out one of the brass bar stools. "Please excuse my bad manners today. Something must have come over me. I don't tend to be like this."

You settled in your seat only to swivel back to meet his towering figure. Your knees nudged his legs, and Jumin was stunned, unmoving. He thought an attraction was supposed to burn him alive, to light him up from the inside. What he felt now was akin to petrification. It crept up on him from the ground he stood and incapacitated his ability to form coherent thoughts.

"Jumin," you enunciated his name with great care. He had never thought his name was beautiful until it lulled out of your mouth. He wanted to brand it into his memory.

"Yes," he said, because it was the only thing his mouth could form.

"Your house sounds like a treat."

"That's because it is. You can entertain yourself here. Whatever you want, I will do my best to provide it for you."

"Other guys could give me those too. There have been some, you know," you confessed, and Jumin was torn between wanting to know more about your past and quelling down the illogical jealousy it spurred. "Gold-dipped bouquets with diamonds, fancy restaurants where they ordered for me without asking about my preferences, jewellery that I wouldn't pick for myself." Your voice was tinted with slight distaste, but it was gone in the next instance. "Do you think I was swayed by them?"

Now Jumin's gaze turned sharp. This was a test, he realised. Your intention was not to compare him to other men, nor was it to flaunt how desired you were. Jumin knew the latter well without needing you to prove it to him. He felt the torrent of his desire all the time. It threatened to wash him ashore and pull him back into the raging sea, never letting him be at peace until he could be certain you wanted him back. So what would you get out of your question? Whatever your goal was, he knew what he was supposed to do. You favoured honesty, just as he did. That was one of the many things he respected about you.

"I doubt you were," Jumin said. "Your affection isn't the kind that could be bought. I may not know you intimately, but I know you would not budge under insensitive bribery, and your tale reeked of one. What they did was foul and not driven by the best intentions. That's not how you, or anyone, should be treated."

Your expression softened as you reached for his hand. "I know you're not trying to impress me with your wealth. I'm sorry if I made you think so. I meant to show you that I'd be here even without you throwing those things at me. You called me just to meet up and I came right away. If I stay back, it's because I want to spend more time with you." You averted your eyes. "Did you have to make me say all that?"

Emboldened by your hold that you hadn't let go, Jumin tilted your chin and you leaned forward by a fraction. "You enjoy my company," he said, assessing your earnest face. He could hear his racing heartbeat in his ears. "But will you stay?"

"You'd really like an encore to embarrass me," you grumbled. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"You phrased it as a hypothesis. I cannot be sure that staying with me is what you want unless you state it clearly," Jumin pressed. Though he was always surrounded by people, no one had ever bothered to stay. Not for long. Not for the person he was.

His fear and desperation must have shown on his face, for you let out a small breath and gently squeezed his arm, before trailing your sight to the empty cup waiting on the counter. "I think you should refill my tea," you said slowly. "I need more if we'll talk into the night, won't I?"

The warmth from your hold spread throughout his body and a smile broke through Jumin's face, his uncertainty receding. Someone as beautiful and brilliant as you, a gem rarer than his tea—for those tea leaves could be reproduced but you were one of a kind—wanted him as much as he wanted you. It was the first real smile he wore in a while. "We can switch to something stronger after dinner," Jumin suggested.

"Wine," you guessed. Oh, how he loved that you could read his mind. "I knew it. You always default to wine. Farewell, tea. His affair with you has been short but memorable."

Jumin was all too eager to agree. "Farewell."

Jumin hoped it would be a long, long time before his relationship with you could end. If it would ever end.

-

The footnotes that I thought would be an occasional extra but they just won't go away:

This fic is inspired by good dates and bad dates and that early crush feeling when you don't quite know the person yet so everything feels exciting and scary.

Don't worry, Jumin's tea rambles didn't deviate from canon. On day 8 he wishes you to learn tea brewing since all his family does it. I thought it'd be fun to highlight his nervousness by making him do something unexpected, especially since he's the type who would randomly do something out of pocket while still maintaining his gravitas.

The tea's legend is based on Da Hong Pao, a very rare, government-protected Chinese tea that you can only get if the president honours you some and from auctions. I didn't think I'd research that deep for accuracy for a mere fic but what am I if not committed.

The header is made to seem like a cheeky ad in the spirit of Jumin's tea endorsement. Contemporary fun with a touch of antiquity is what I was going for to capture the fic's mood and Jumin's preference. The challenge was to make a dynamic animation without looking flat or too complicated but still fit the time, format and size constraints. People still need to be able to immediately read the text, which means no over-the-top entrances and transitions. Truthfully, I die a little bit inside whenever I have to sacrifice aesthetics for function but it is what it is!

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[austinsastrology8991]

* DEGREE THEORY * and more...

this is just a theory, I love all degree theories and this is just my spin on the degree interpretations

Okay so I love the connotations towards Aries being 1°13°25° and that making the planet/point being aggressive and brash, and Taurus 2°14°26° making them more stable and growing into their power as time goes on, and so on with the rest of the signs; it makes good sense and I love reading the interpretations assigned to the signs inherent values. But I got a theory so Ive been connotating these degrees to the Tarot Card meanings, and well let me just go ahead and explain myself: 1° = The Magician - Represents creation, willpower, skills, but also negatively; cunning, vanity, or latent talents. > Now in comparison to the normal aries degrees - to me there are lots of similarities, aries is the starter - alike the magician - and they are both very aggressive in the attainment of their goals, which leads to vanity and well 'latent talents' from the lack of foresight. But on the positive they have plentyful amounts of willpower and are able to create things out of thin air since they have little foresight of potential consequences. 2° = the High Priestess - Represents Intuition, subconscious mind, spirituality, secret knowledge. but negatively; lack of self control, withdrawal, lack of self trust. These once again to me at least coincide with a lot of the taurus qualities > self control, self trust, withdrawal... Now i know you def could say its a lot like Pisces but I have a good counter. Look at the hanged man > Surrender, new perspectives, letting go... this is more in line with Pisces than the high priestess actually. Because the high priestess wants you to connect with YOUR higher power, the hanged man would rather you let go of your ego and connect the dots of the world around. But i digress. Also the connection between Taurus and Pisces is undeniable. Now im gonna switch what im sayin a bit but hear me out. > If you have a Pisces ascendant > aries is in your 2nd house (taurus) and we all know aries is something your constantly pursuing and are aggressive in the pursuit. Now if you have a Taurus ascendant > aries in the 12th house (pisces) you are aggresively trying to understand others because you have such a good understanding of yourself maybe learning from others would teach you even more (not to mention gemini in the 2nd... but i digress) okay so i understand this is a lot of information and maybe a little hard to digest so im not going to make it too long. But i have so many other theories and im just testing this post out to see how it is received. I could have gone on about each of the tarot card meanings, but i dont want to waste my time if it isnt going to be received well. However I do in my own spare time constnatly evaluate certain degrees with the connotated tarot cards... Like for example 8° is scorpio - power, mystery, intrigue, and well thats paired with the strength card... I mean im just saying i truly do believe there to be a strong connection between, tarot, astrology and well numerology also, i just wish we treated all the occults as the same subject - the occult because we are all just trying to discover secrets given from higher powers, so why we gotta act like they all cannot be correlated? also we've gone so backwards with our understanding of the occult > those witches back in the day just imagine what they all knew about the occult. and we are just over here trying to tell each other how sexy we are because we have leo and roar loudly or because you have scorpio you are sexy because you have a stinger.... like honestly sometimes i want yall to grow up.... ANYWAY i jumped around too much to be coherent, but well im just speaking my mind and yeah you let me know if this did something to your brain or if you fell asleep and want to be told that your a sexy demon seductress again...

[atinystraynstay]

Black Eye - Hansol Chwe

"I'm on my worst behavior."

Pairing: non-idol! Hansol Chwe x fem reader

Genre: Angst - running into an ex; established relationship w/ Vernon

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: PG 13 - physical violence, insults said by ex

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

There are parts of every person they wished they could forget, erase from their history. You weren’t an exception to that, nobody is. You found comfort when it comes to exploring your past when you look at your present and future.

Specifically, when you look to the person across from you. Vernon. You and Vernon have been dating for two years, been through highs and lows together. He was someone that filled your world with hope and light, even if he couldn’t see the impact of his presence in your life. He couldn’t comprehend how being with him made such a difference. If anything, he knew that without you, his world would be dark. He just couldn’t understand how he could have a similar impact.

Yet, knowing your own history, you knew it was true. You had never been with a guy as a gentle soul. He took pleasure in the simple things in life. He still finds an excuse to spoil you now and then, though. Vernon was your breath of fresh air after all the storms you've weathered.

Tonight, you were celebrating a huge milestone - your one-year anniversary. Not only was this important for you and Vernon, but it was huge to you. You never thought you would get to experience a love like the one you two have. In your previous relationships, you either never reached the one-year mark or were with a partner that never thought of it as a big deal worth celebrating.

Vernon had to celebrate. Not just because it was something you wanted to do, but because he wanted to. You were a blessing in his life. He didn't want you to be unaware of that fact. If he could, he would scream his love for you on the highest mountain top.

"You look absolutely breathtaking, y/n," he commented. "You do every day!" He quickly added. "But tonight, you look radiant."

You couldn't help but giggle at his words. Seeing the slight panic and hearing the rush of words was one of the qualities you adored about Vernon. He never wanted to have his words be misinterpreted, so he was quick to clarify anything he said that might come across differently. He was hyperaware when it came to other people's emotions which was a quality you were quite used to in your other partners.

Your left hand reached across the table to rest on top of his. Your fingers gently caress over his knuckles. "Thank you, baby. You look handsome as ever," you gushed softly.

He looked down at his outfit for the evening, making his signature raised eyebrow expression. He was wearing a simple black tee shirt with a silver chain and matching black jeans. His leather jacket hung over the back of the seat you were sitting in, so if you got cold, you could easily slip it on.

In Vernon's eyes, he was nothing compared to you. You were wearing a dark blue mini-dress with flowy sleeves that were cuffed at the wrist. Vernon never expected you to get dressed up for him, but he always appreciated the effort. If anything, tonight he felt underdressed for you. But seeing the way you were looking at him, like he was your whole universe, put him at ease. All Vernon wanted was to make you proud of him.

The waiter came over and introduced himself. You kept a warm smile, trying to be polite. You knew the realities of working in the service industry, so you tried to extend extra patience and understanding when you could. That's just one of the qualities Vernon adored about you. He was convinced your heart was made out of gold.

"Good evening, Mr. Chwe, I have the wine you selected for the evening if you two are ready?"

You looked over at Vernon, an eyebrow raised. He only winked at you before nodding to the waiter. It was then revealed your favorite red wine, a semi-sweet Lambrusco you two enjoyed on your first date. You couldn't believe he remembered.

The waiter poured the two glasses for you as you kept your eyes on your lover. He really was full of surprises. "I will give you two a moment before coming back for your dinner choices," the waiter announced. Vernon only slightly nodded to acknowledge he heard something from him which caused you to giggle. It was like your first date all over again - unable to take your eyes off the other person, curious about the other person.

Vernon cleared his throat and fixed his posture. "To us," he announced, raising his glass slightly. "To us," you whispered.

"So what's the occasion?"

Your whole body ran cold. Vernon picked up on how your body got rigid just by watching you. He felt his senses become more alert as he set his glass down. You followed suit before looking over your shoulder, hoping not to confirm your biggest concert.

Yet, to your disappointment, there he was. Your ex. He was sitting in the table beside you. You must not have noticed that he had gotten sat there due to the waiter in the way. This was your first time that you saw your ex since you two broke up. And what a messy break-up it was.

"What's wrong, y/n? You don't look happy to see me?" He said with a sickening sweet smile. "And who do you think you are?" Vernon asked. "Oh, you haven't been told about me? Y/n, how rude."

You felt your blood begin to boil and your stomach churn. You looked over at Vernon who looked like he was fuming. But it wasn't at you. His gaze was locked in on your ex sitting beside you at the opposite table. "Baby, this is my ex." "Woah, I'm just an ex? And this is your boyfriend? Bro, I'm sorry," your ex laughed.

It was then your eyes started to get glossy. Your gaze turned to be locked on the table in front of you. That was one of the reasons you decided to call quits with your ex in the first place. He had an awful tendency to humiliate people through humor. He never stopped to think that his words could be more deadly than a knife.

"And I'm sorry you lost the greatest woman alive, but hey, that means I won, right?"

Your eyes widened slightly at Vernon but your smile grew. He looked at you and felt satisfied seeing you a bit better. Vernon was determined not to let this asshole ruin your evening. He squeezed your hand three times before directing his full attention to you. That seemed to get your ex to back off a bit before turning towards his own company for the evening.

You knew you might have some explaining to do later to Vernon, to give more context. At the moment, that was the last thing you wanted to do. Your ex worked in sick ways, finding ways to lie and manipulate anything said. Your priority was celebrating your anniversary with the most amazing man alive.

"So are we celebrating anything important tonight?" The waiter asked upon approaching your table.

Vernon smiled brightly as he kept his eye contact with you. You blushed slightly under his gaze which caused him to chuckle. "We're celebrating our one year anniversary," he proudly announced.

Unlike your ex, Vernon never failed to make sure everyone knew his pride in being yours. You didn't like to compare the two as Vernon always went above and beyond. Tonight, you couldn't help but do so with your ex being in too close of a proximity. If anything though, it made you even more appreciative for Vernon.

He went ahead and placed your dinner orders for the two of you. The whole time, you kept your gaze on your lover. You could tell that he had gotten a haircut for the evening which made you smile a bit more. You couldn't believe that you finally found someone that truly put effort into the relationship. It blew you away the Vernon did little things like buy milk when he used the last of it, or when he would send you $7 through Venmo so you could buy a coffee and a muffin. He treated you like a princess.

The waiter nodded as he quickly jotted down your order. Sensing that you two wanted to focus each other, he wanted to get out of the way as soon as possible. He collected the menus as Vernon said a quick thank you.

You went to take another sip of your red wine when you heard that nauseating voice from beside you.

"One year anniversary? You were able to keep her entertained for that long? You sure she isn't sleeping with someone else behind your back?" Your ex inquired.

You nearly spit the red wine out of your mouth. He can't be serious. This was your worst nightmare. You looked at Vernon who was glancing between the two of you. You prayed that Vernon could see through the lies. Your ex has been notorious in spreading rumors that caused others to leave you, them choosing to believe a stranger over you.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are right now, but you're crossing a line," Vernon said, his voice lower than usual.

"Look, bro. I'm just trying to give you a heads up. Wouldn't want you to waste your time on a slut like her."

That crossed the line for Vernon. Nobody should speak that poorly on another person. Especially when it came to you, nobody should disrespect you like that. You quickly rose from his seat across from you, making his way between the two tables so he was standing in front of your ex and blocking you.

"Mind repeating what you said?" "Like I said, I know how amazing her pus-"

Vernon didn't even let your ex finish that sentence. The next thing you knew, Vernon's fist collided with the face of your ex. You and your ex's date for the evening let out a gasp. She got up quickly, running to get the host of the restaurant while you sat there in shock.

"What the fuck?" Your ex shouted.

Soon, all the patrons in the restaurant were looking towards your direction. Your eyes were locked on Vernon. Everyone watched as Vernon picked up the white collar your ex was wearing, causing him to stand up from the table. In the process, your ex bumped into the table causing silverware and the glasses of water to fall onto the table.

"I'm so glad my girl decided to dump your loser ass. That's how you speak to women? What a sad excuse of a man," Vernon spat.

He dropped your ex back in his seat. Vernon stepped out of the way to get behind you. You glanced back, seeing him motion for you to stand up. "Come on, darling, we're leaving." With the look he was giving you, you knew there was no room to protest. You stood up as Vernon moved your chair back, making it easier to move. That was when you got the first glance of the black eye your ex would have. For now, it was already becoming red and purple from the hard punch.

"Don't look, baby. I know it's hard, but let's just focus on getting out of here," Vernon murmured from behind you. You nodded your head which caused him to press a kiss to your head, thankful for your compliance and your trust in him. He lifted his leather jacket off the back of the chair before holding it out so you could quickly slip your arms inside. He also grabbed your purse, deciding to carry it for you or maybe just because it would get the two of you out of there sooner.

Your ex's date came running back with the host and a few waiters who assumedly were there to try to breakup whatever fight. They all paused when they saw your ex holding his nose while you and Vernon were getting ready to head out.

Vernon grabbed a hold of your hand, slipping his finger in between yours. He squeezed your hand through the tight grip he had. It wasn't bone crushing, but it was enough to enforce he was taking the lead. He began leading you two out of the establishment.

Before you crossed into the main lobby, he turned toward your ex's date. "Unlike your ex, I want to apologize. I am sorry if my actions have ruined your evening. I'm not sorry for what I did though," he said. His voice was oddly calm despite the events that just unfolded.

He apologized also to the employees of the restaurant before he rushed you two of there. You leaned in close to him, just hoping that your ex would get the idea not to come chasing after the two of you.

Once you were outside of the restaurant, you stopped walking. Vernon felt the slight tug from your body which caused him to turn around. Both of his hands quickly cupped your face, eyes scanning for any sign of you being hurt, whether it be physical, emotional, or mental.

"I'm sorry, y/n, but I couldn't stand the way he spoke about you," Vernon sighed. He felt guilty that he ruined your evening, especially one of such high importance. You had looked forward to this evening all week, but he let his anger get the best of him.

"I'm sorry too," you frowned. "Sorry?" Vernon looked at you confused, eyebrows furrowed. "Babe, what do you have to apologize for? You had no idea your ex was going to be there." "No, but I feel like I have to apologize for him. I never told you about him because I was embarrassed of him-"

"Baby girl, that's nothing to apologize for." Vernon's voice was back to its softer tone. You peered up at him, wanting to say more but deciding to stay silent so you could hear Vernon out. He wrapped one arm around your waist, the other remaining so his thumb could stroke your cheek. The touch was light yet helped ease your emotions slightly. He always knew the little things to help ease your mind.

"If you want to tell about the people you used to date, then I am more than happy to listen. But I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to just because he decided to speak up," he explained. "That's in the past, and you're my future."

For the time being, you were going to still keep details from you past a secret. Just for tonight. Tonight, you still wanted to focus on you and Vernon. He was your present and future, your everything. That's all that matters.

"Now, come on. I'm not even sure what I was thinking by making reservations at this place," Vernon laughed. "I think we should just go to the diner around the corner to relive our first date. Burgers, fries, and a vanilla milkshake sound a lot better anyways."

And it was the best anniversary celebration you ever imagined. You guys sat in the same booth where your first date happened. You laughed about your ex before shifting the conversation on the remainder of the evening on how far you've come as a couple.

Nothing else mattered besides the two of you.

[freakadr0id]

LMK Season 4 Spoilers!!! (Episode 4.4 - Pignapped!)

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*

*

SEASON 4 COMING IN HARD WITH THAT SWEET, SWEET FREENOODLES CONTENT, YO!

I knew this episode was going to be gay when I took a sneaky peaky at the episodes when they aired in China, BUT I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS GOING TO BE THIS GAY!!

I wanted to hold off on talking about it until tomorrow, but I can't help it. I need to get this out of my system.

First off: It is so sweet how the moment Tang is struggling and feeling dejected, he starts thinking of Pigsy and wishes he was there.

"Oh, Pigsy... Where are you?"

He's stressed, and sad and who does he think of? Pigsy, that's who.

2: "I'm your Tangy"

ARE YOU F-ING SERIOUS WITH THAT?! THAT IS SO... SAJKDLFJKE

Look at his face! He uses his affectionate nickname! It's so f-ing cute I can't even.

3: "I have devoted my life to this man..."

YEAH, YOU SURE HAVE, HAVEN'T YOU, TANG?

I can't explain the noise I made when he said this line. I had to go back and rewatch it just to make sure I didn't mishear it. Yup, he just said that.

I'm sorry, but if you say you've "devoted your life" to someone, then that relationship is almost 100% more than just FRIENDSHIP. I mean sure, you can ABSOLUTELY say that about friends, if you want, but I mean... come on. It's *them*

So, congrats to them on that confirmed marriage.

4: THAT LITTLE WIGGLE AND HUM OF HAPPINESS FROM TANG!!

The hum and happy noise he makes when he nuzzles Pigsy at the end is just so f-ing cute. He just loves his pig husband so much.

(Yes, Ik I've made this gif before, but I wanted a higher-quality version of it, so here you go).

5. HIGH QUALITY (ish) IMAGE OF THIS FRAME YESSS

Yes, I also mentioned this one before, but this one shot fills my soul with so much joy I can't NOT mention it.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, but even though I'm not too into shipping in LMK, these two just get to me. I didn't even ship it at first, but season 3, and now season 4, really sold me on the relationship between these two.

[free-imaginations-for-you]

DIMMED LIGHT

ONE SHOT

Kim Taehyung x female Reader 

In this absence of any noise, i felt a very great comfort. It was so quiet you could hear my heartbeat taking on the melody of the rainbeat with every drop that splattered down the car on this rainy night. I still could not believe it, how could he do such a tumult in the restaurant, because his delusional self thought that the waiter was flirting with me. Honestly I must admit that his protective side was always a trait that drew me to him but that strong emotion mixed with the uneasiness he had felt within himself for several weeks, like him and I were moving away from each other, like he could be replaced within a blink of eye, was a deadly poison.

„Who the fuck do you think you are?“ was the last thing he spit with an evil smirk in his face, his eyes burning with pure anger. Everything happened so fast, the next thing I saw was Taehyung's fist slamming merciless into the waiter's face with full force. The awful noise is still in my ears, making me flinch whenever I imagine the scene in front of me. To be honest it‘s not the first time that such thing happened, but he vowed me to control hisself, he promised me that even when he has his outburst I never had to fear him. His outburst tonight was different from the ones I witnessed before. I can’t get it of my mind, how empty and lifeless his eyes were when they met mine while i tried with all my might to calm him down, to prevent the situation from escalating. Actually he was aware I was scared to death, he knew that I get anxious whenever someone get’s in a physical fight. It’s not like he didn’t know how upsetting this situation was for me, but he simply choose not to care about my feelings neither my wellbeing. In this moment he just wanted to prove a point, to me, to the waiter, to the restaurant, to the whole world.

It’s not a surprise that we‘ve had a tense situation for weeks, neither of us trying to state the obvious, that the spark between us is slowly but surely fading away. Words can not express how happy and exciting I was when he suggested the date in the first place. First of all he wasn’t really the romantic lovely dovley type to organize a candlelight dinner for the two of us. So in my irrational mind I thought that this would be the perfect opportunity for me to remind myself of all his good qualities which is why i fell in love with him, really hoping that the guy i fell in love with four years ago is still there waiting for me to put him out of the the dark. It feels like the Taehyung i fell in love with is gone since the day he put this personal success above all else. I‘ve always admired his ambition, but often it feels like he‘s a bird flying higher and higher, without looking back what he‘s leaving behind and I have no choice but to watch him fly from my golden cage that i had unconsciously built for myself since the day i vowed to be there for him no matter what.

Maybe it was the way he knew exactly what to say to me with those sugar sweet little lies or maybe it was me who was willing to believe every lie he told me, like an idiot closing my eyes to the most obvious thing. The way he had the power to destroy every fibre of self confidence and self love i had in me. Making me doubt myself, making me feel like the lowest version of myself. He made me feel so high above the sky, giving me the feeling of protection, love and respect. Actually slowly but surely he made me forget the beauty of the rise, because the feeling of the freefall was an hundred times worse. One positive thing came out of this situation, the fact that he put me through this made me, made me realize that I won‘t let this happen ever again. Not now, not tomorrow, not in an hundred years. Believe it or not, I made up my mind, no force in the world, no-black magic, not even his sprakling brown eves that promised me whole universes and galaxies, could revent me from putting my wishes and wellbeing first. The raindrops hit the ground loudly and relentlessly on this stormy and rainy night, instead of the tears that i vowed not to let fall. Even the cloudy and dark weather was on my side, it felt like the whole word was sharing the feeling of sadness and loneliness with me with every raindrop that fell on the cold ground.

It felt like forever but we‘ve arrived at the apartment. Not a word left our lips since the moment we left the restaurant. In all honesty I wasn‘t even ready to face him, to look him in the eyes after everything he put me through tonight. The second we entered the apartment, I made my way to the couch, I didn't even have the strength to take off my shoes nether my coat nor turn on the light. This darkness gave me a familiarity and comfort, it’s sad to say that’s the way i spend the last couple of weeks waiting for Taehyung to return home. No to be more precise I waited every night in darkness with the hope that he will enlighten the apartment with the light that his old self carried within him. It’s time to wake up from my dream and face reality, the light within him dimmed down, there is not much left of his old self.

„It not my fault, he should‘ve known what he got into the moment he started undressing you with his filthy eyes.“ he stated monotonous in a low voice while standing at the doorframe crossing his arms. „He was not flirting nor undressing me with his eyes, he was simply being polite. If you would pay attention to something other than your self for once in your life, you would have notice that he was like that with all the costumers there.“ I countered as i leaned back at the couch with a firm but calm voice, feeling tired and drained out from this messy situation. „I couldn‘t fucking care less how he acted with other women. What i don‘t tolerate is the fact he could not take his eyes off what‘s mine.“ he said angrily not understanding why you would try to defend him.

„Are you even listening to yourself? First of all i‘m not your possession and secondly just admit that you just wanted to make a point and show everyone that no one can mess with you and you enjoyed the feeling of megalomania, that you‘ve gotten used to over the last few months at my fucking expense, without wasting a fucking thought on how I felt the whole time.“ i voiced out my voice nearly breaking, feeling like every word i uttered turned to smoke slowly fading away, not even reaching him. „That‘s not true and you fucking know it.“ he said feeling hurt, trying his best not to give weight to the words you just spit. To say that he was unaffected by your statement would be a lie. The only way Taehyung could prevent himself from shutting out completely and distancing himself, was by making you feel the crushing grief he is feeling deep inside his heart. „Don’t you think that if you would know your fucking boundaries from the beginning we wouldn‘t be here in the first place. Do I have to remind you whenever we leave the door that you are in a relationship? Stop being „nice“ to every fucking male you meet, that‘s making you look so fucking pathetic.“ he screamed his voice getting louder and louder with every word coming out of his mouth, the pure sarcasm in his voice while saying the word nice didn’t go unnoticed by me. His eyes were filled with pure rage and pain. I shook my head closing my eyes not wanting to believe that he could say such hurtful things to me.

„We are over.“ i simply said those 3 words that have been lingering in my mind for so long, while standing up from the couch, feeling like a weight was lifted off my soulders. „What do you mean?“ he asked feeling panic and anxiety starting to grow inside his thorax. „I‘m so done with the way you‘ve been treating me the last couple of months I deserve so much better than this.“ i stated while pointing at us. „I gave you everything I had inside of me and you gave me nothing but pain in return. You are not the Taehyung i fell in love with, you are not the person I vowed to love, to look after, to never leave and let go anymore. Actually you don’t respect me nether do you love me after all those words you said to me and I can‘t continue this relationship for another moment.“ i confessed what I had in my mind for so long, finally making up my mind for good. He felt his heart shatter, making it impossible for him to utter a word while watching you leave the door. The best thing that ever happened to him left and he couldn‘t do nothing but watch you leave.

[khoipyan]

“ I don’t know what’s worse, the pounding of my head or the pounding of my heart. “

You loathe Valentine's day because you’re terribly afraid of rejection on such a romantic date; February 14th. Still, you try and shoot your shot.

gender neutral (you/your), angst, romantic (but one-sided), no physical desc. of reader

characters; octavinelle

notes; the title is inspired by.. my friend saying a thing with a scaramouche tupperbot, haha… it was a while ago and it was to feed me scaramouche content BUT the line was so good so i held it in my head for a while.

attempt .

All happy couples should perish.

Just kidding, you wouldn’t actually wish for those who were granted with love to be rid of it. However, something made you wonder if you can try to get your own.

Was it even possible for somebody like you? Would you be turned away or humiliated if you confessed your true feelings? It was a daunting possibility that you could just be discarded like roses that have withered away past their prime, but something poked at you to just give it a try.

“Try it once, it can’t hurt. Or maybe it will, and you’ll crumble into several pieces.”

Why must this decision be so difficult? However, if something urges you to confess... You only live once, so let’s give it an attempt.

azul ashengrotto .

A man like Azul is intelligent, cunning, hardworking, etc. You could go on about his tasteful qualities that made you so interested with him in the first place.

Such a guy like him needed something special, but not too overwhelming of course. Just a valentines card and a box of chocolates! It was simple, plain, and cute. Also traditional and cliché, but it would make your heart jump if you would receive such a gift.

You hoped Azul would feel that way if he was presented with the romantic offering as well.

Or, WERE hoping, anyways.

—✦—

“I’m… sorry?” Azul gawked at you. He had never expected this to begin with.

“Didn’t you read the card, and did the chocolates in the heart shaped container not make it clear? or—“

“No, i knew perfectly well what you meant. however, I’m apologizing. I was simply shocked because you were the last person I’d expect to catch such feelings for me.”

What the hell did that even mean? Tell me Azul. “Are you saying, no? You don’t return my feelings?”

You could tell he felt just the tiniest bit of pity, but ultimately looked unbothered by his decision. “Yes. I’m sorry to disappoint, but it’s a no from me.”

Oh my, It felt like you just voted off a stage or something by an unimpressed judge, despite giving it your all. “Oh. Ahaha. We-well, do you still want the chocolates—?”

Azul waved his hand in a, 'No thanks' way. “Ah, I appreciate the gesture, however it’ll be a ‘no thanks’. You may keep them, eat them, throw them away. It doesn’t matter to me what you do with them. Again, I’m sorry to dissa…” Azul trailed off. He started looking around the now-empty room, however you were nowhere to be seen.

It’s not like you were even listening anymore at this point, the message was clear. No was a no, and there was no point in trying to change his mind. While Azul had been talking, you'd taken the liberty of walking off midway.

—✦—

If only there were some way to know how you could know what a person likes, or maybe—! Gah, just forget it. He already made up his mind.

Instead of taking the chocolates, he took the stupid letter. So much for important, hm?

Oh Azul. What did it take to be the one for you? Did it take a high level of intelligence like Riddle’s? Or maybe, a hardworking demeanour with a passionate heart? What did it take to win over your heart?

Why should you bother asking this, anyways? It’s not like you could ever put these questions to good use.

jade leech .

The (seemingly) calmer set of the leech twins has his own charm. He may be devious at times (as once stated by Azul), but he had a flattery that could make anybody fall to their knees and bow to him. He’s so sickeningly polite with his actions and words, how could you not? Not fall to your knees and bow to him, I meant,

‘He doesn’t seem like a guy who would want to attract much attention,’ You had thought. This theory of yours wasn’t exactly wrong. Despite always being seen with Azul and his own twin, you didn’t exactly know the biggest things about him. Hell, you didn't even know any of the trio’s secrets at all.

But given this information of his secluded nature, you wouldn't go too much for his present. Just a love letter, handwritten by yours truly (AKA you). It took everything not to start crying (tears of adoration) out of nowhere as you thought of the tall, teal-haired man.

You poured your most of your heart into this letter, and made sure to finalize it by sealing it in a dainty little envelope with a rose sticker. Why settle for a heart sticker when you could one-up yourself with a floral adhesive? You WOULD have scouted for a mushroom sticker, but you couldn’t really find any no matter where you looked.

—✦—

“My my, what’s this?” Jade asked, smiling away his usual false politeness.

You blinked at his question, “A letter! You know, since it’s Valentine’s day and all of that.”

Jade seemed just a tad interested in what the letter had to say, so he carefully opened it up, not wanting to blemish the note that you worked so hard on. It would be rude of him to do that, after all. However, you started to notice his smile had faltered just a little when reading the contents of what you wrote. When he was finished, Jade tucked the letter back into the envelope and handed it back to you with one hand. “My apologies, however I cannot reciprocate these feelings.”

Slightly bowing, you blurted out an apology. “It’s alright—! I just made everything awkward, sorry.” It was indeed awkward. He just rejected you so casually.

Jade shook his head and laughed, putting his index and thumb on his chin. “No worries. We can, however, still be acquaintances if you would like.”

You grasped the letter in your hands with a fist. Is this some kind of fancy way of friend-zoning you? Because it seriously sucked. “Yeah, sure! I don’t mind.”

Truthfully, you did mind because you didn’t think you could ever look him in the eyes ever again.

—✦—

If that couldn’t have gone well, what else was next? You were going mental and LIVID over the fact that Jade that rejected you. No, not JUST because he rejected you, but how he was so respectful and polite about it.

How ironic, that it was what made you even FALL for him in the first place.

Unfortunately, it is what it is. You’ll soon find yourself falling out of love, and one day you’ll look back to ask yourself;

‘Was any of this worth it?’

floyd leech .

Floyd leech, the more disorderedly set of the leech twins who won over your heart. From a constant battle of, ‘uh oh, it’s Floyd,’ to ‘oh, it’s Floyd!’, he was finally able to subdue you with his chaotic allure. The more you hung out with him, the more infatuated you got. He’s unpredictable with his mood, for sure, but somehow always managed to make your day better. Just a little grin from him to you, and you could swear you died inside a little.

You decided to get Floyd a shrimp plush. Not because you're a 'Shrimpy' (well, you ARE according to Floyd), but because you remember he loves squeezing things. Plus, you doubt he'd tend to flowers if you got him any, considering him. Would he even put in effort to take care of the plush?

—✦—

"And, well, you see, I really like you!" Those words spoken were from you, handing him the soft plush. Unfortunately, you had fumbled over a few BUT you felt that it was a pretty solid confession.

floyd stared at you. Small movement, just stared with the plush in his arms. Looked down at the soft shrimp, looked up at you.

No smile, no grin. No chaos.

And then the laugh came, "Oo. Shrimpy's confessin' to me? Well, you're gonna be bummed out then." He said, still laughing.

It felt like he was laughing at you.

Floyd was indeed laughing very hard, however, seemed to take note of your expression. "Eh, eh! Just to be clear! I'm not- Pfft, laughing at ya! I'm laughing to lighten the mood so that you don't take this too hard." He settled down, still grinning widely. "Sorry, but no thanks."

Ouch.

"Buuut! You don't mind if I keep the plush though, right? Kinda soft and looks funny, but also really cute! You got a good eye for stuff, Shrimpy. Next time, you're sure to be accepted!" Floyd held out the plush with both hands in front of you. It was indeed cute, however you're not sure if you can even truthfully say it is anymore.

"Err, if you wanna keep it, sure."

"Yay! Thanks Shrimpy, you're the best."

As Floyd went on and on, you couldn't help thinking to yourself. 'If I'm the best, why don't you love me back?' It's not fair, now is it?

—✦—

As you waved goodbye to Floyd and his new plush, you instantly put your face into your hands. Not out of embarrassment, but of shame. You really thought...

Thought wrong.

But there's no use whining about it, especially in front of Floyd. You'll grow over him soon, right? He'd squeeze you hard if you complained about it to him anyways, plus it's not something you would talk about to somebody who turned you down.

You sighed, looking at the floor.

'I wished that Floyd adored me as much as my gift.'

( due to be edited at anytime )

[the-kr8tor]

🪦anon I will give you a platonic kiss on your hand I will now draw witch hobie as a black cat with one eye

Daily Hobie HC! Little honorable mentions from Octobie! I'm sure we all remember the "I never told you I loved you" hobie hc from a while ago?

Hobie trekked through the streets, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket, the pads of his fingers too afraid to even touch the picture of you and him, crumpled up in there, more than he had already.

It was an odd feeling. Missing someone so much it feels like drowning, but there's no sadness…only longing. Hobie wishes, one day you'll just come back.

He wants to wrap his arms around you one more time, to feel his world light up, to be your muse and for you to spark his imagination once more with songs. And perhaps say the one thing that was on his mind a year ago.

I love you.

Did he still love you?…He didn't know. It had been a year since your disappearance, he sometimes wondered if that was true or not. Of course, he's accepted the fact that you were gone, but sometimes he wondered..maybe in a different reality, you both were happily in love.

Maybe in a different universe, he was holding your hand, kissing your sweet lips, loving you through the good days and the bad.

He walked past the cafe he remembers you two met, a bittersweet feeling tugging at his heart. Hobie loved the cafe for the memories, but the same memories were tinged with sorrow.

Where did you go?

Hobie looked up into the window, his eyes widening in shock. It was you. You were here. Your head was down in a sketchbook, the same one you had when you came up to him offering to draw him that one, fateful day.

Your pencil danced effortlessly on the page, sketching something out. Hobie's body moved before his mind, quickly making his way into the cafe and towards you. He quickly pulled you into a tight hug, muttering something about how he's missed you so much.

You stood there, confused and a little nervous about why this stranger started hugging you. Either way, you manage to gently make him let go and point out that you're not the person he's looking for.

Hobie's eyes widen as you told him you weren't the person he was looking for. He felt embarrassed, quickly wiping away tears and giving a proper apology. You looked exactly like..you… Hobie noticed one thing. Your eyes were a tone lighter than the one he knew. But everything else was the same.

Your eyes quickly travel down to a patch on one of his fingerless gloves, pointing out about how you liked the band as well, only knowing a few songs from them.

Hobie knew. You had told him before, and he had crafted the gloves in tribute for you..or the you he knew?.

Both you and him quickly became friends, with the same cycle repeating. You would come over a lot to his place, loving the brainstorming hours and drawing him as your muse. Hobie was noticing the cycle rather quickly, playing along. He laughed along with you, smiled when you complimented his playing, posed with his guitar comfortably as your muse.

Hobie helped you to try out different angles, sometimes drawing small cats in the corner of your pages with a pen, like a page number, of every sketchbook. He stole high-quality art supplies for you, winking and saying that he's magic whenever you asked where he got them from.

Feelings then rose, and the cycle was almost going full circle. The lingering touches, Hobie's heart eyes for you, the way his eyes sparkled with fondness whenever it landed on you and your work.

Hobie couldn't risk you being gone too. He didn't want to lose you once more, so as you were leaving his boathouse that night, Hobie blurted out.

I love you.

The three words he had failed to say before, he said now. Hobie watched nervously as you slowly turn, blinking at him blankly. He was bracing for the sting of rejection, but instead was caught by surprise as you smiled brightly, bounding towards him and away from the door.

Hobie froze as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, kissing his cheek affectionately, reciprocating your feelings for him as your skin heated up under his touch.

He smiled fondly towards you, pulling you against his body and tugging you tightly, not wanting to let you go. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, feeling relief so strongly it almost gave him a headache.

He finally did it. And his heart swelled with love for you. -🐦‍⬛

That's such a nice idea!!!

Daily Hobie HC ❤️❤️❤️

Im gonna miss octobie hcs 😞

Noooooo it's already breaking my heart! 😭

Yooooo hobie seeing r again in the same cafe was kind of creepy!!! I have a theory tho! Methinks that this r is another r from another universe sent there to replace the r that was lost (replaced by who? Me don't know 🤷‍♀️)

You writing 'the cycle' brought me back to under the clock tower. Gasp is hobie stuck in a time loop and him saying the words to r was the way to break the loop?!!!

😭😭😭😭😭 hobie falling in love again

What if his original r returns suddenly tho hmmmm

He said it!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉

[kindoffruity]

Smitten - Chapter Five - Aonung's POV

Mild Warning: This isn't essentially accurate. It is a bit longer than usual. I apologize for the delay as I have been sick.

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Smitten: Chapter Five - Gift - Aonung's POV

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A week seemed to fly for Aonung, everything was actually going great for his relationship with Neteyam. While he did train in the morning, he had to finish his and Lo’ak’s chores before lunch, and he usually spared time before and after dinner for Neteyam. Aonung was trying his absolute hardest to always keep a smile on Neteyam’s face. Late in the evening, he dedicated many hours to creating a gift for his lover.

Aonung wasn’t as good at crafting as his sister was, but the important part was he did it himself. Despite the countless times the pearls fell off their string and he had to redo it, he had poked his fingers several times. Sometimes he was so frustrated he wanted to throw it, but he knew he needed to treat it with care. 

Ronal, his mother, was relatively quiet since the outburst, only checking on her son occasionally with a mild disapproving look as she watched him struggle to craft, one day he assumed she got tired of watching him stuck on the same part, she stood over him, casting a glance down, “There is too much weight on the string, you need to double it to make it sturdier otherwise it will not last. Here, like this.” Ronal slipped another string through and pulled on it to show how much stronger it was now. 

Aonung could only thank his mother, he was a little shocked, did this mean that she was accepting Neteyam? She must have accepted the idea. 

After a week full of long evenings, Aonung had created two pieces for his lover. He looked over them carefully, he looked at them and could see Neteyam in their beauty. Yet, he had gotten second thoughts wondering if these were even good enough for his lover. There was only one person who would be completely honest with him. He placed both gifts in a small box, laying them gently and walking to his mothers room. He knew Ronal would tell him if they were ugly or not good enough for a courting gift. 

“I think they are lovely, I am impressed you put such an extreme amount of effort. This..Takes a lot of dedication.. You must really love him..” Ronal spoke, trailing her hand gently over the high quality pearls and sea glass. She may not have approved of Neteyam but she respected Aonung's intentions of courting Neteyam. That was all Aonung could ask for, everything else they could work on. 

- - - 

Aonung hardly felt nervous, it wasn’t like him. He was usually confident and cool, when he approached Neteyam bullying him those months ago, he never would have thought his crush would have returned his feelings. Let alone, be willing to mate with him. They have known each other for years, he knew how Neteyam was. Neteyam would have probably been happy with some sappy seashell had Aonung said that it reminded him of Neteyam. 

But this wasn’t some sappy seashell, this was the real deal, he had spent long nights working hard. Yet suddenly, it all seemed so small and not enough when Neteyam deserved the world. 

Aonung tried not to get anxious as he approached the Sully home, he needed to be confident, seeing Jake stand to greet him took him back, he realized he was no longer a kid anymore. He was a grown man now, taller than even Jake Sully.

 “Aonung, what brings you here?” Neytiri called out as she approached the two men, she welcomed him inside to take a seat. Neteyam was nowhere to be found at this very moment, it made Aonung more nervous as he stared at the two forest Na’vi’s. Suddenly, he remembered how as an ignorant child he had bullied the Sully kids, he really hoped that didn’t come to bite him. 

“Ah yes, I was hoping to speak with both of you and Neteyam but it seems he is not here,” Aonung started, despite internally screaming at himself, he kept a cool composure, imagining Neteyam was right there. “Nonetheless, I wish to court Neteyam. I have been working very hard to become a man worthy of him, he means the world to me, I wish to court him but I would like your approval to do so.” Aonung gained confidence as he spoke, looking between the set of parents. Both parents seemed to be shocked, as if they had no idea he and Neteyam were even a possibility, where did they think Neteyam ran off too at night? 

Jake Sully seemed to be staring him up and down, probably wondering if he would even be able to provide for his son. “I will be Olo'eyktan one day, Neteyam is my better half, I do not see a future without him by my side.” Aonung felt the need to sell himself as a worthy mate. 

Neytiri was still processing everything, before she started to laugh, Aonung was thankful for that, it really eased the tension that had been forming. “This explains a lot. I was wondering why he had hesitated so much the other day, and now I recall every night he is nowhere to be found.” Neytiri spoke with a knowing-tone. From what Aonung had heard, Neytiri had mated even younger than they were at only 18. So he assumed she knew a thing or two of sneaking around. 

The couple exchanged looks with each other, Jake seemed reluctant but Neytiri was clearly in charge, “Absolutely, you have our approval. As long as Neteyam is happy and he chooses you.”

Aonung was relieved, it visibly had shown on his face now that he had the approval of the Sully’s to court Neteyam. “I am relieved, thank you very much, if you’ll excuse me I really need to find Neteyam!” Aonung had bowed his head respectfully and stood from his kneeling position. It took everything for him not to run out of there, he needed to look calm and collected. 

“Ronal is going to have a bitch fit,” Aonung could hear Jake say to Neytiri, “Good. She deserves it, she was so against our kids and now look, we are going to be family whether she likes it or not. I could not be more pleased.” 

Aonung quickly learned that Neytiri was petty, he was sure Neteyam had gotten that trait from her. 

- - -

Aonung had searched all over the reef for Neteyam, it felt like they were playing hide and seek, everywhere he would check it seemed like he just kept missing Neteyam. Neteyam hadn’t even been at dinner, Aonung was starting to get worried when Neteyam hadn’t immediately shown up to their usual spot on the beach. 

“Aonung! Aonung!” Neteyam called out running towards him, he looked out of breath like he had been running for a bit, his braids damp as if he had just gotten out of the water not too long ago, Neteyam held something behind his back as he ran. He stumbled as he finally made it to Aonung, he had to take a large pause to catch his breath. 

Aonung could tell Neteyam had probably been running for a while considering how out of breath he had been, it had really taken him by surprise to see Neteyam winded. 

“I have been looking for you all day!” Aonung complained, reaching to pull his lover into his arms, to which Neteyam held out his arm to keep him at arm's length. “I know, I have been busy today, I can only tell you part of what I am doing- just give me a second to calm my heart rate-” Neteyam laughed, Aonung had never been more confused as to what Neteyam had been doing to be this out of breath. 

“What could be more important than your future husband?” Aonung couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, Neteyam looked at him and rolled his eyes, but there was a playful smile on Neteyam’s lips. “I could give you a long list, or you could close your eyes and stop acting like a jealous baby.” Neteyam pressed a hand to his face, forcing him to close his eyes. Aonung could only huff in response pretending he was annoyed. 

“I know you have been busy, and I appreciate everything you have done to make more time for me, so I have decided to create something for you to make everything easier on you.” Neteyam shifted to rest on one knee and grasped Aonung’s hand, placing something in his hand and closing his hand on the object. “Open your eyes,” Neteyam spoke softly, looking up at Aonung with bright eyes. 

Aonung was completely surprised, opening his eyes to see Neteyam on his knee, it took him a moment to process what was going on. Neteyam was courting him. Aonung couldn’t help the large smile that overtook his face as he opened his hand to see an armband that Neteyam had created for him, it was braided much like Neteyam’s yet had golden sea glass embedded with it that distinctively reminded him of Neteyam’s eyes. 

“Aonung, will you be my mate?” Neteyam asked with a smug grin, of course Neteyam would take courting into his own hands when he felt like Aonung was taking too long. “But what about your parents?” Aonung teased that Neteyam had no idea he had already asked for his hand. “I already asked yours.” Neteyam expressed. 

Aonung was at a loss for words, while he had been running around searching for Neteyam and asking his parents, Neteyam had been doing the same thing? Neteyam had asked his mother and father if they could be together, Aonung could only imagine how the whole thing went, it was clear Aonung was processing how the conversation went, he was deep in his thoughts. 

“Aonung! Will you be my mate! Do you accept?” Neteyam asked him again, Aonung snapped out of his thoughts and laughed, “Of course I accept,” Aonung knew he was going to accept regardless. They both knew. But it was surreal actually doing this. Aonung slid down to his knees, holding out his arm for Neteyam to place the band on him, “If you couldn’t tell, the gold is so you can always have me with you,” Neteyam explained. 

“Really? I had no idea, I thought it was for Kiri or Lo’ak- Too tight!” Aonung had been joking, Neteyam tightened the armband painfully tight to make a point. As if Aonung could ever think of anyone but his lover. Aonung waited for the other to finish before he grabbed his face for a long kiss, he held Neteyam in place for a moment before he slowly shifted to sit down on the sand, pulling Neteyam to straddle his legs and sit on his thighs mid-kiss. 

Neteyam easily allowed himself to be moved without them ever pulling away, Aonung swore that Neteyam was getting better with holding his breath. It was Aonung who had pulled away first, reluctantly albeit. 

“I love you.. But don’t think you have beaten me because you have courted me first..” Aonung spoke against Neteyam’s lips, planting another heated kiss  on his lips while his hand reached for his box that he had planned on giving Neteyam in the beginning. 

Neteyam’s arms were around his neck, hands in his bun, Neteyam had grown more bold whenever their lips locked. Aonung could feel the heat building in their touch. Neteyam was distracted by his kiss, Aonung used this to his advantage to slip on the waist beads he had created for his lover. Neteyam hardly felt them being put on. 

Neteyam pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, it was only after he relaxed his posture did he recognize the foreign object, his eyes trailed down towards his waist that was now adorned with some of the prettiest pearls he had ever seen. Neteyam trailed his hand lightly over every piece, the pearls and sea glass followed a pattern of white, yellow, white, blue and so on. Neteyam looked quite pleased with his gift, in the middle lay a sharp tooth of what Neteyam could only assume belonged to an Akula.

“You.. When did you have the time?” Neteyam’s eyes were large and full of wonder as they locked with Aonung’s light blue. Aonung felt proud receiving this reaction, it was worth the wait, “The day after your birthday, we went hunting for the materials, you deserve nothing but the finest.” Aonung  had imagined what Neteyam would look like wearing this countless times, but this was much better. 

While it hugged Neteyam’s waist perfectly, it also showed anyone looking that he was taken. 

“And to make it?” Neteyam seemed in disbelief, Aonung was sure he was just shocked that Aonung had put so much work into it. “Every night. It was nice because we would hang out beforehand so I always felt motivated after we spent time together to complete it.” Aonung would be lying if he didn’t say he felt smug seeing how flustered Neteyam had gotten.

“I never said I was done, Neteyam.” 

Neteyam was still mesmerized by the extravagant piece resting on his waist, “My love- this is enough really, it more than enough,” Neteyam was too flustered to accept anything else from Aonung. 

“It would be rude of you to not accept, are my gifts not good enough for you?” Aonung practically purred teasingly in Neteyam’s ear, “N-No, it's not that, It’s just this gift is enough as a courting gift-” Neteyam hadn’t stumbled on his words since Aonung had started praising him. 

“It’s not a courting gift though, it is a birthday gift, my love.” 

Before Neteyam could oppose, Aonung placed a hand over his mouth and forced it shut while he slipped on a headpiece that had been modeled after Neteyam’s visor, it was much more extravagant than even the waist beads that had been created for him. The piece was clearly for decoration or to show off, the complex design of it showed Neteyam he had taken his time with it. 

“Obviously, I know you are a warrior first and foremost, I do not wish for you to think I am undermining this, however I wanted to create something as beautiful as you. I know you cannot wear it for hunting or your chores, but for celebrations or when we marry.” Aonung expressed, his hand tracing over the headpiece that had framed Neteyam’s face, it was delicate just like Neteyam could be whenever they were alone.

It took Neteyam’s breath away to be adorned by pearls and jewels by his lover, he couldn’t see himself but he knew he Aonung must have loved everything he saw. Aonung treated him like he was a strong warrior yet Neteyam knew he could be fragile with him.

“You are worth the whole world, I will make sure you only ever have the best, I vow that to you.” Aonung continued. 

“Aonung…” Neteyam started to speak, tears threatening to escape but he blinked them away and took a deep breath, ‘Thank you.. These gifts are lovely, I will treasure them forever. When we mate before Eywa, I will make sure to wear this.” Neteyam promised with a flushed look at the thought of them getting to that actual point. 

“Soon, my heart,” Aonung caressed Neteyam’s cheeks, his touches light and gentle as they shared a moment more intimate than sex. The air surrounding them was full of love, passion and vulnerabilities. 

Aonung knew he hadn’t always been the best mate, nor was he perfect, but Neteyam made him feel damn near perfect. Aonung could do anything he wanted as long as Neteyam was in his corner. 

Aonung admired everything about his lover; the way his braids seemed to bounce everytime he stepped or laughed loudly; the way his thin baby tail seemed to wag excitedly and wrap around his own whenever he complimented his lover. And, he couldn’t forget about how Neteyam’s strong thighs seemed to lock Aonung in every time. 

“Nung.. You are staring so hard..” Neteyam’s words snapped Aonung out of the trance he had been in, he had been staring hard at him, “I just love everything about you..” Aonung confessed. 

Aonung really was in love, possibly even obsessed with his lover, so he pulled him in for another kiss. His hands gripped Neteyam’s thighs and pulled them around him as they sat on the sand. There was no care now about getting caught, the world would know by sunrise.

Neteyam’s hands traced over Aonung’s arms, squeezing the muscles firmly, as if he was trying to remember each curve. His hands rubbed at his shoulders and traveled to his chest, just exploring all the places he had been too shy to explore during the day or continuing where they seemed to always get interrupted. 

Aonung used the hands traveling his body as an invitation for him to return the favor, his hands slid further up from Neteyam’s thighs towards his butt, gripping it softly admiring how it filled his hands nicely. Aonung couldn’t help but notice how Neteyam arched into the squeeze, he noted it mentally as he dragged his hands up his back in a teasing motion that left goosebumps on Neteyam’s skin. Despite their lips being interlocked he could hear a small moan escape Neteyam’s lips, it was practically engulfed in the kiss though. 

“I love you..” Neteyam whispered against Aonung’s lips once they pulled away for air. It was intoxicating, they couldn’t get enough of one another, their touches were soft and sensual yet each one left them yearning for more. Aonung’s hands gently grabbed onto Neteyam’s waist as his lips moved down to plant gentle kisses from his jaw down to his neck. 

The kisses to his neck left Neteyam practically melting, his arms wrapped tightly around Aonung wanting to be as close as possible. “Ao-Aonung..” Neteyam was left whispering his name, not knowing if he wanted more or just wanted to Aonung to hear how good he felt with each heated kiss pressed to his neck. Aonung couldn’t help but smirk as Neteyam’s thighs tightened around him, their hips pressed together causing only the sweetest friction between them. 

Aonung bit gently into his lover’s skin, sucking on the flesh and only pulling away when there was a small hickey left over. Neteyam had tensed as his teeth sunk into him, Aonung could only imagine Neteyam was struggling to hold back the prettiest moans of pleasure. 

“You are so perfect… I am so lucky..” Aonung whispered just for Neteyam, slowly moving to lay Neteyam back gently on the sand, Neteyam moved easily with him, resting his back on the sand as Aonung hovered over him. Aonung’s build practically surrounded Neteyam, his curls tickled the crook of Neteyam’s neck as he continued to pepper his neck with soft loving kisses. Neteyam’s hands dragging down his back gently scratching. Neteyam didn’t know where this was leading, but he didn’t want it to stop any time soon. 

Aonung pulled away from his neck to admire his lover sprawled out underneath him, his freckles glowing underneath the moonlight, Neteyam beaming up at him with the happiest smile as he pulled him for a slow and sensual kiss. Their hips brushing against one another, sending a pleasurable thrill through their bodies as they clung to one-another. Aonung couldn’t help but release a low groan against his forest boy’s lips. 

If Aonung had it his way, he would have taken Neteyam right now. But he didn’t want to ruin everything they had worked so hard for, so with great restraint he pulled away. 

Neteyam made a sound of disapproval, it was almost like a whine or a quiet protest, as Aonung had started to pull away. Aonung pressed a kiss to his forehead, “We have the rest of our lives.” Aonung gently reminded his lover. It was difficult, it took great strength to pull himself from ravishing his lover on the beach, but he wanted their first time to be special. 

Neteyam looked up at him with dazed golden orbs, his hand traveling down his arm and intertwining their fingers. “I know..Doesn’t change the fact that I want you now too.” Neteyam teased as he brought Aonung’s hand to his mouth and pressed soft kisses to each of his fingers. 

It drove Aonung insane, Neteyam knew what he was doing, Aonung had to practically lift him off the sand. 

It was time to return home. 

- - - -

Aonung’s Iknimaya came shortly after that evening on the beach, once he returned from the trials with his spirit brother he would be a man. 

Aonung did not know when he would return, as there was no set date, but he prepared himself mentally to be gone for quite some time. 

The great thing was, the whole island knew Aonung and Neteyam had been promised to one-another, it pleased Aonung greatly to see Neteyam bustling around as usual with the beads bouncing around on his waist, he had heard people compliment his lover on it multiple times. 

“I never realized how small your waist was- smaller than some women” Aonung would hear, he also heard, “Wow, Aonung is lucky, Neteyam is pretty, if he messes up I wonder if I’ll have a chance”. 

They were right, Aonung was lucky. 

However, every time he heard those comments or someone even admiring his future mate, he felt the need to just grab Neteyam by his pretty little waist and slam a hard kiss on his lips. 

Aonung had only done that once though, it was on his last day before he left for his Iknimaya. A large group of those who were leaving to become men, had gathered together for a last hurrah. There was dancing and food, it was truly a great event. 

Neteyam had been talking with many Na’vi to find out what their trials had been like, or the placement of their first tattoo, Neteyam was just trying to find as much information to know what to expect in the future for Aonung. 

Aonung knew this, he had no doubt in his mind that everything Neteyam did revolved around him in one way or another, in the best way of course. 

“You know it’s not uncommon for some to come back bound and mated, don’t worry Neteyam. If Aonung doesn’t make it back, or if he chooses someone else, I’ll take one for the team so you don’t have to be alone.” 

It was supposed to be a joke apparently but it didn’t go down well with Aonung. Neteyam looked visibly uncomfortable by the joke too. 

Aonung reacted out of pure jealousy and frustration, sliding behind Neteyam, an arm wrapped around his waist and his hand guiding Neteyam’s face up towards him to plant a firm kiss on his lips. Neteyam had easily complied to the kiss, eyes falling shut as Aonung claimed him as his own in front of the pool of potential bachelors. Aonung’s eyes didn’t shut though, they locked directly on the bearer of the bad joke. 

“Don’t worry, Neteyam is good. He needs no other mate. None of you could handle him anyways.” Aonung smirked as he pulled away, it left Neteyam flustered as Aonung led him away from the celebration. “You are.. So jealous..” Neteyam spoke in a hushed tone to his lover, lightly slapping his arm but not really having any complaints. 

The night ended, with a kiss goodbye, the couple not knowing an exact day of when they’d see each other again, only that they would see each other once again. 

- - 

It had been a good month and half before the couple was reunited. 

While he had been gone, his parents and Neteyam had moved his stuff to his own place, he had a Marui of his own.

Aonung had returned; he had many stories to tell, a new gift from Eywa (his first tattoo), and a collected seashell from every day that he had been separated from his lover. 

The day of his return there was loud whooping and hollering, many people were proud of him, he was the center of attention for the whole day. It was truly a gift and a curse. The gift made him feel important and accomplished, he was a man now, a warrior, someone worthy of his partner who had been considered a man far younger than him. 

The curse was, he barely got to even hug his lover, Neteyam looked at him with so much want and yearning but everyone had crowded him wanting to hear his stories and how his spirit brother was doing. It was a lot, and by the end of the evening, he had been absolutely exhausted with a social meter completely drained. He was so tired he instinctively walked into his old home, only realizing that all of his stuff had been moved. 

A huff of frustration as he had to walk to the furthest end of the island to get settled into this new foreign home. He looked around and couldn’t help but smile a bit, he could tell Neteyam had been there. There were subtle signs all around, from a little plate with some of the beads from his braids to the plants that had decorated the space. Only Neteyam would elect to take care of plants by the reef. Aonung was sure it was a reminder of the forest. 

“You have arrived, I have missed you.” Neteyam called from outside of his new home, Aonung albeit exhausted, practically yanked Neteyam inside and to lay down with him, his arms wrapped tight around his lover. Ignoring the sting from the fresh tattoo burning on his arm. 

“Neteyam.. I missed you too, today was so long, I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend much time together..” Aonung closed his eyes, the wave exhaustion rolling over but feeling warm and comfortable once again, “We have the rest of our lives.” Neteyam teased bringing up their last steamy scene. 

“I’ll leave you to rest, my love..” Neteyam moved to get up but Aonung did not budge, pulling him right back down and hugging him from behind as he kept him close. “You are not leaving tonight, you and I have a lot of catching up to do.” Aonung refused to let Neteyam go. 

It was nice to have their own spot, Aonung could only think that this would be their home. They had fallen asleep together, it was surreal to be able to sleep with his lover. Aonung swore when he woke up he would get to admire his beautiful face. 

Except when he woke up, he had woken up to Lo’ak staring above him, glaring down on him. For a brief moment he had thought it was Neteyam, but Neteyam was in his arms. “What the fuck?” Aonung jolted, Neteyam instantly jumped up with him. 

“So you think you can come back here a man, molest my brother and hold him captive here in your home. I came here to remind you that I am always watching you! You hurt my brother, I will break your neck.” Lo’ak warned. 

“Enough Lo’ak, I can handle myself. But you’re pretty relentless for someone who has bonded before Eywa with  Aonung’s sister.” Neteyam teased, it was clear Aonung had no idea yet.

Aonung shot out of bed and Lo’ak ran as fast as he could away from him.

It left Neteyam alone in what would soon be their new home..

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[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

heya mr cosmic !! could i request yoimiya x gn!reader who loves painting? thank u so much i hope u have a good day !! :)

Thank you for the request my friend! Though I probably went way over board for this I still enjoyed making it.

NOW! YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!

Title: Two Very Different Types Of Art

When the two of you met, Yoimiya’s father was sure the two of you were going to kill one another.

He knew he was hard of hearing but…

It might have actually gotten worse when you and her first met!

Heck! The two of you were arguing so loud General Kujou came down to see what the ruckus was about!

He had never seen someone get so terrified from two people’s glare before.

He couldn’t even blame her!

If it wasn’t for the fact that he was keeping an eye on a very special order that it took him months to dig out from the records he would have already hoofed it out of there!

Yoimiya was a fiery girl, and it wouldn’t be the first time she got into a spat about something.

But this wasn’t her usual fiery reverence for the art of fireworks.

This was an argument.

An argument over two very different types of art.

The fire, spectacle, and noise of fireworks V.S. The elegance, eccentricity, and quiet of paintings.

Two things that could not be more different.

Yet, something told him that this was to be the start of something very, very beautiful.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Yoimiya glared at you from across the courtyard as she downed another glass of water.

You did the same to her.

Meanwhile, Ayaka sat next to Yoimiya, wondering how in the world to fix this mess.

It's not as if this was Ayaka’s first time playing mediary to Yoimiya and her latest verbal contender.

But there was something different here.

A… sense that… Yoimiya was enjoying this.

Clashing words with you, clashing wits, clashing opinions.

Ayaka was all for it, she had never seen Yoimiya having such fun.

Alas, being woken up every morning before the sun came up by you and her having a shouting match was not her idea of a fun time.

The same could not be said of the Raiden Shogun, who for some confounding reason had sat in on a few of your arguments.

Neither of you, of course, noticed her at all.

You two were too busy arguing over how the consistency of paint and the powder required for proper detonation in fireworks was different.

Or how properly sourced and high quality canvas was different from the extremely precise and very specific clay shells Yoimiya used in her fireworks.

Or why specific colored paints were harder to acquire than metals needed to make color in fireworks.

It was an interesting situation to witness, that is for sure.

And now, that Yoimiya and you had both burned yourselves out for the day, she was going to implement her little scheme to get the two of you to at the very least, stop having public screaming matches on the proper portions of materials for specific colors.

Hopefully.

So here goes nothing!

“Yoimiya?” Ayaka asked.

“Yeah?” Yoimiya hoarsely responded.

“Are you ever going to ask them out?” Ayaka asked, a fan hiding her smile.

Yoimiya began to cough, spitting out her water.

“WHAT!!!” Yoimiya attempted to yell, but fell short due to her sore throat, making it come out as more of a hiss.

“Come now Yoimiya! I have never seen you invest this much time in someone, quite honestly, the only other thing that you spend more time doing is your fireworks. Even then that is a very close difference.” Ayaka told her friend with a slight, imperceptible chuckle.

Her plan was proceeding perfectly.

Now comes the waiting game.

“Alas, that is the end of my free time for now Yoimiya, I will see you tomorrow!” Ayaka told her heavily blushing friend as she stood up.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Yoimiya stomped back home, Ayaka’s words rattling around in her ears like a rock that was stuck in one of her firework shells.

“As if I would ask that person out!” Yoimiya exclaimed.

She would never ask out someone so stubborn! 

So hard headed!

So fun to talk with!

So exciting to run into!

So exhilarating to see!

So-

Yoimiya stopped dead in her tracks, an unfamiliar heat on her face.

“Oh…” Yoimiya squeaked out as the heat spread all throughout her.

“Oh no…” Yoimiya muttered as she realized what this meant.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Ayaka expected many things over the next week.

Waking up, not to the screaming of you and Yoimiya but rather the sounds of birds happily singing every day was most definitely not one of those.

“This is… curious…” Ayaka muttered as the full week of both you and Yoimiya not arguing loud enough to wake the dead ended, coincidentally, Yoimiya and you had not been seen at all during that week either.

Did her plan go that well?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

That morning was quite the eventful one for the people of Inazuma as a new form of art was introduced.

Powders coated the ground, creating beautiful tapestries that could be blown away in a moment.

Something that the people of Inazuma had never seen before.

Reds, blues and purples, mixing together upon the ground and telling a tale.

A woman clothed in fire who let colors fly free from herself.

A person clothed in water, who caught the colors and used them to recreate the world.

The woman fought with the person while both were smiling.

Then a new person joined.

A woman clothed in ice.

The woman clothed in ice began to speak to the two combatants.

After that the combatants sat in their respective places, contemplating.

Then the person clothed in water caught a piece of red flame from the woman.

At the same time, the woman saw one of the paintings her colors allowed.

Then the woman in flames and the person clothed in water, began to try and imitate one another.

The person in water let out small, miniscule showers of color from within themself.

The woman in fire began to take the colors from within her and from the few shreds that wandered to her like moths to flames from the person in water.

Then, both parties repeated the process, over, and over, and over.

Each getting a little better each time.

Each getting closer and closer to reuniting once again.

The person in water had created a ball of water that roiled and spun with the color within it.

The woman in flames had created a painting, depicting an explosion with two people holding hands.

Then, both sides ran to meet one another, to show their accomplishments.

And when they exchanged their gifts, both sides kissed, turning everything purple.

Coincidentally, above where the art ended, sat you and Yoimiya.

Heads leaning upon one another.

Completely and utterly dead to the world with quiet snores escaping the both of you.

Yoimiya was holding a small firework close to her chest.

You were holding a painting tightly, but not so tight it would be damaged.

The firework was most definitely not one of the ones Yoimiya would make.

The painting was most definitely not one of yours.

But both of you held the pieces of art in your hands like they were worth more than any amount of Mora offered for them.

And that is because they were.

To you and Yoimiya at least.

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Ayo I need a part 3 of the marquis x reader cop Fic. How does the reader fall for the marquis? What’s up with that other doctor? What kind of role does the reader being a cop play into the story?

The rioting had spun the city into chaos in a matter of hours. It was as though everyone had gone mad. People were looting, and destroying monuments that could never be replaced. It didn’t make any sense to her; some people’s desire to destroy.

“You see the new memo?” Richie asked her as he sat at the desk across from her at the police station.

“I just got here. Had to go home last night after they pepper sprayed us.” She said, shaking her head from the phantom burn she swore was still there.

“Ouch you were there for that? Damn girl. Looks like it’s only getting worse. Our sources say some super assassin is coming to challenge some crime boss. Frankly I say leave them alone and let them cancel each other out. They’re lost causes anyway.” Richie ranted.

As she pulled up her memo she looked over the names and faces of the players involved. A few of their faces were familiar. These guys were not amateurs. They were the type that everyone knew was no good, but never seemed to be arrested. Friends in high places, and lots of reasonable doubt in their favor.

In other words; corruption. Scanning through all the names and photos, she noticed the last name wasn’t a name at all, and had a very low quality picture that was so blurry, it could be anyone.

“The Marquis.” Richie read over your shoulder. “He’s a bad egg from all accounts. Worse than the Russians, the mob, the yakuza combined. Completely ruthless.”

“You’re such a busy body. Where do you get all these facts?” She asked as she made the bunny ears quote signs with her fingers.

As Richie went into a long tirade about his sources, she couldn’t help but wonder about the nickname. Marquis were pretty uncommon, but there was no way. She shook her head, and laughed at herself.

To think that Vincent would be a criminal was impossible. He donated to sick children, he was always an absolute gentleman and he hadn’t even tried any funny business. Even if she wished he would.

“What’s up?” Richie asked.

She realized too late she was smiling. “I’m just laughing at a ridiculous thought.”she admitted.

Richie looked at her oddly and walked away.

She looked over the names and pictures again, trying to commit them to memory, when her phone rang. Answering it, she was told by her boss to come to his office.

Suddenly very nervous, she went over any possible reasons she could be in trouble but came up with nothing. In spite of that, she was still quite nervous as she stepped out of the elevator and approached his receptionist.

Before she could even say anything, she was told to go right in. He was waiting on her.

Now she really was freaked out. Knocking lightly on the massive oak doors, she heard a clipped “come in” from inside.

Opening the door, she closed it behind her and confidently approached her boss. She didn’t want to assume she would be staying long enough to sit, so she stood before him expectantly.

“How long have you been with us?” He asked.

That was unexpected, and her confidence wavered, “it’s been seven years last month.”

“And not one single write up, infraction or reprimand. Exemplary service, all your colleagues and superiors sing your praises and you even appear to be active in the community. You’re almost too good to be true.” He stated, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. “Or are you the worst?”

Shocked by the turn of his statement, she only could get out a flustered what.

“Sit down!” He ordered.

She did, nervously running her hands on her pants before looking back up at the man.

He sat there for a few minutes, staring back at her. She had no clue where this was coming from, or where it had come from so she waited.

Finally he spoke, “what is your relationship with Vincent de Gramont?”

“He is a friend and donor for the hospital I volunteer at. Is he in trouble?” She asked.

“You are only friends with the handsome billionaire? The extravagant dinners and flowers he sent you here of all places, were friendly?”

“I don’t think my personal life is an appropriate topic.”

Huffing loudly, and standing suddenly, he made his way around his desk and stood in front of her. She couldn’t help but notice he was a very handsome man, exuding authority and commanding submission. He was probably in his fifties, and his hair was prematurely graying. Age lines and crows feet, as well as worry lines were present, even with his face at rest. She wondered all this man had witnessed in his life.

Unaware of the transparency of every emotion she had, playing clear across her face; her boss witnessed her compassion and worry written on her face. Coming to a decision, he squatted down to be eye level with her, in an attempt to soften what he was sure now, would be a devastating blow.

Looking deep in her eyes, he took her hand in his , sandwiching it between his hands, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, he stated….

“Your Marquis and my Marquis are the same.”

[the-crow-caws-witch]

Kiss From A Fleur: A Piers x Plumeria Fic

Hey there crackshippers, it's me, ya boi (girl). Here's a songfic, inspired by Wake Me's cover of Kiss From A Rose (originally by Seal, and yeah, both versions slap. I'm old). Some words were changed, all rights reserved to Seal though. And I don't own Pokemon, just some OCs.

Summary: Plumeria attends her first concert in Spikemuth, watching her boyfriend Piers perform for the first time. And of course, he's got some new material to make it special.

Rated Teen for swearing because I can't help it.

Plumeria looked around the arena, her nerves only heightening as more and more people flooded the small space of what was the Spikemuth gym.  Marnie had mentioned the show to her earlier this week, telling the foreigner that she wouldn’t want to miss it.  Piers had told her earlier too that she can stay backstage if she preferred, but Plumeria shot that idea down immediately. “How the hell do you expect me to get the full experience from behind the curtain?”  Now, she was wishing that maybe she did stay backstage, if  for no other reason than to be able to breathe.  Surely the stadium couldn’t get more packed..

She was proven wrong within minutes.  By the time the show started she had been pushed and maneuvered by the grunts and inhabitants of the small city to the damn near complete back of the venue.  The plus side?  She was no longer overcrowded and was able to relax herself a little bit.  The downside? She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to see her boyfriend perform over the sea of fans.  Luckily she still had a clear view, smiling at his energy as he appeared on stage with the rest of the band.  “GOOD EVENIN’ SPIKEMUTH!!” he welcomed, and the crowd went wild. “ARE YA READY TO ROCK?!”  Once again, cheers and whoops filled the area.  He scanned the crowd, finally finding her in the way back, and winked at her, causing her to blush.  He laughed into the microphone.  “Alright, alright ya lot, let’s GO!”

The show started with a bang, drums hitting hard and loud, guitars and bass being strummed with such power and precision, and Piers’ voice ringing out with beautiful, intense vibrato.  Plumeria was fascinated, hooked by the first song.  He had mentioned during his stay in Alola that he was a musician back home, but he never really delved into it, other than playing some softer, acoustic songs for her.  She was always entranced by his voice then, but this; this was completely different.  She was more than just entranced, she was completely enthralled.  Between the high voltage energy on the stage and in the crowd, the physical feeling of sound and harmony represented by each individual instrument, and Piers just being Piers, it was easy for Plumeria to be just as lost inside the show.  

Throughout the entire show Piers kept making eye contact with the Alolan, checking in every so often to see how she responded to the music, his heart bursting every time he saw a smile on her face, or her eyes glazed over with fascination.  It provided him with a type of ego boost, giving him the extra adrenaline needed to go above and beyond with his performance.  Before they knew it, it was time for the final song of the night.  His stomach felt full of butterfrees, both from nerves and excitement.  He looked over to Audrey and Vincent, both giving him a thumbs up, and a nod came from Jack with a wide smile.  Once again he scanned his eyes to find his girlfriend in the audience, beaming at her own goofy grin.  He cleared his throat, leaning into the mic.  “Alright everybody, this is the las’ song of the night.”  His declaration was met with sad cries of disappointment, not because of the quality of the show, Piers knew better, but because it always seemed to end so soon.  He chuckled.  “Yeah yeah, bugger off about it,” he joked, then continued, “This las’ song’s a bit different from our usual.  A bit slower, an’ it’s for a special girl.”  His gaze settled directly on Plumeria, who blushed a deep shade of pink in response.  Piers smirked.  The crowd, on the other hand, talked in quiet whispers and hushes, looking around.  The song started with a beautiful, almost romantic opening cord, and everyone looked on at the stage in wonder.  Suddenly the rest of the band joined in, adding flare to the ballad sung. 

“There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea/ You became a light on the dark side of me/ Love remains a drug that’s the high not the pill/ But did you know that when it snows/ My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen..”

Plumeria gasped, as did many others watching.  Mournful Piers singing a ballad?  This was crazy!  But he sang with such conviction that the audience couldn’t second guess it, and as the chorus hit so did the powerchords, and the crowd went wild once again.

“Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a fleur on the grey/ The more I get of you the stranger it feels, yeah/ And now that your aura’s in bloom/ A light hits the gloom on the grey..”  If he was still nervous he didn’t show it, belting out the lyrics like he’d written them years ago, rather than just a month or so back when he had started dating again.  Truth be told, there were many song he had written, and yeah, most of them were love songs, and it was against his very image, but at this moment he didn’t care.  What mattered now was showing the world, his world, that he was happy for the first time in a very long time. 

He continued on with the song, tears brimming Pluemria’s eyes.  She still couldn’t believe it.  This man was extremely talented, loving, and more than she could ever wish to have in a partner.  A hand squeezed hers, tearing her out of her thoughts as she looked to its source.  Marnie was next to her, grinning wickedly.  “Told ya so.” was all the young girl said, then started cheering her brother on with the rest.  Plumeria shook her head with a laugh.

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever.”  She tried to play it off, but Marnie saw right through it.  The song was nearing its end now, Piers’ eyes still glued onto Plumeria’s who also couldn’t bear to look away.  Marnie kept a small hold onto her hand, keeping the woman grounded. 

“Welcome to the family.”  The younger sibling started out of nowhere.  Plumeria beamed.  On stage, Piers couldn’t stop smiling.  Finally the song faded out.  There was a raucous of cheers and applause, and naturally his fans began begging for an encore, fully knowing it wouldn’t be received. Marnie excused herself to the merch booth, helping out however she could, while Plumeria met him backstage, still blushing, and still energized from the show.  He embraced her first, hugging her tight while she laughed. “Thank ya fer comin’.” He whispered, voice hoarse from the show.  

Plumeria kissed him on the cheek.  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world babe.  You’re so amazing and talented!” she complimented, giggling at his blush.

“Yeah well, I’ve had some help lately in the writin’ department.  Got myself a helluva muse.”  He winked at her, and she looked down, flustered.  He laughed, draping his arm around her shoulder.  “Let’s say we find Marnie, and get us some grub?”

Plumeria nodded, her stomach growling as if on cue.  “I vote pizza.”  Her boyfriend nodded in agreement, and then they were off, saying their goodbyes to the others, before rescuing Marnie from the merch stand and heading home for the night.