#in s2 i could see this however

[pinkeoni]

i dont think that byler needs to have had been planned since the beginning for it to still be happening

[halfdeadwallfly]

i keep seeing posts about, like, major plot things that people want to see in s3. which is cool, but honestly, personally, i just want... like.... more good omens. like, i'm not setting expectations for things to happen, bc i just want to go in and see the end of the story in the way that terry pratchett and neil gaiman imagined it. for the most part, i think that however we end up getting there, it's going to be just lovely, as long as the world of good omens is still the world of good omens. and obviously i trust that neil gaiman is going to execute that, so like,, idk, i just wanna see the characters being the characters and the story being the story in whatever neat and especially good omens way that we get to see that happen.

[loveandlegacy]

i do want to know what viktor was going to do with the hexgates slash what he did with them in the bad universe. like in the bad world jayce finds all these body-husks that are clearly people running away from or sheltering from a blast and huge portions of the city have been blown to bits so sincerely did viktor . nuke everyone? in an attempt to end the world's suffering or was he trying to robotify everyone and unleashing the arcane on that scale just had the unintended side effect of turning everything into a bombed out exclusion zone?

[gothambelfry]

“Who taught preschool chuuya to act like that!” I would recognize verlaine’s influence fuckin anywhere

[nelyyo]

watching rings of power s2 felt like reading a canon divergence fic where the author had some interesting takes, and i mean it as neither an insult nor a compliment

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

One hell of a team | In-ho x Wife!Reader |

Summary: You will follow your husband anywhere.

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Violence - Different back story for In-ho - Blood - Death - Use of (Y/N) - Reader gets called "love" -

The Frontman, the man with the most power within the island, to who the guards obey without question.

Was currently trembling under his wife pointed look.

"You want to enter the games?" You asked him, your tone cold and almost jugdmental.

In-ho calmed himself down. It was an idea that stayed with him after the death of the Chairman and even more with how player 456 had insisted the last two years in finding them. He had played before and won, he knew how terrible others could be, he had walked out like a new man, used the money for himself and you. Never really gave much thought on how many lives were lost.

But, for some reason he wanted to go again.

"Im going with you"

His glass of wishky fell onto the floor, the loud crash did nothing to bother you while you ate.

"No, thats not happening. I need you here to control the games and guards" In-ho started trying to get a valid reason to why you defenetly should not come.

"Oh, you need me to? Well I need you here. With me. With our family. How do you think I would do seeing you there ? I still remember how you got when you came back from these the first time"

"That was different" The Frontman said taking a deep breath "I wont be just one more player, it will be like when the Chairman went in"

"That still does not ease my mind" (Y/N) responded "Till death do us a part and follow you anywhere" you recited showing him your weeding ring. "Remember?"

In-ho felt his chest got thight at the sight and the memory of the small yet full of love weeding you two had back when life was more simple.

"Alright, you can come with me. Its not like you would wait for my approval" he responded smiling at the end "But no one must know that we are married, you understand that ?" He added now serious

"Of course, its what makes more sense, we will just casually meet there and see how it plays" You nodded to him "And please, better clean up that glass before someone steps on it"

"On it, love"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

For the most part pretending not to know each other was easier than expected. While you knew the guards knew who you two were you were still a bit scared. Specially during the green and red light, since both of you had got separated and now you were froze in your spot.

"You need to move" In-ho said from behind his arm playing along "Follow me in the next sing, alright? Just take my hand"

"Im scared, im sorry" You said feeling guilty over wanting to be there with him and starting to fail on the first game no less.

"I know, I was too. But im here, just follow me"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You had to hide your smirk when he pressed the circle to go on with the games, you knew he would do it just to piss off Player 456 and make things more cahotic.

He went with the rest and stood besides you trying himself not to smile at you.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The first approach to Gi-huns team was tense to say the least. You two had voted circle and even worse In-ho had been the vote that ended the tie.

But with his own charisma and yours you two got to be on his good side.

Till In-ho decided to talk, really you sometimes forgot who sassy he could be.

"And some picked umbrella?" He asked faking suprise when he had seen it on first hand. "Most of them died I assume"

You could see the look on player 456 and decided to be more sensitive

"Hey, dont be like that. Im sure they went in blind and did not know what it was about" You said keeping a safe distance so no one would think you two were together or knew each other before the games.

In-ho was having too much fun.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

That first night they both were in their respective beds. Still keeping their false relationship. However once (Y/N) was sure all were asleep she went towards In-ho who was awake like he knew she would be coming to him.

"Are you alright?" He asked in a whisper, worried that for her this would be too much.

"Im fine, I wanted to see if you were fine"

He nodded not saying a thing but taking her hand.

"Also, I saw you break that fight, really ? When did you even learn to do that ?" This made him smile and hold her hand thighter "Really! I only see you in your office all the time"

"You think I would come in here without knowing how to defend myself or you?"

She smiled at him, blushing in the dark. "No....I just thought all you did was be in your office and give orders"

In-ho rolled his eyes "Just wait till we are out of here, i will show you just how fit im"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The six legs game was both a chaos and funny. Honeslty you could not help yourself on hugging him and player 456 (who was slowly getting on your soft side) as you saw a team win.

However the shoots that came for these who did not survive were too much. You would swear In-ho gave the guards a cold stare because you would flinch sometimes.

"Hey, dont worry they wont shoot the ones who havent played" Player 456 reassured you with a calm tone

You nodded, knowing that even if you lost they wont shoot you or In-ho. It was still sweet to see him trying to calm you down.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Not a word" He said during the night when you two were able to talk again.

"I was not going to say a thing, but you did in on purpose or were you really missing ?"

In-ho closed his eyes knowing you would later get the recording of him missing during the game and use it against him.

"It was all planned" he said trying to sound as convincing as he could.

"Whatever you say Honey"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The game of making pairs gave you nausea because of the carousel kept spinning around. And the rounds were stress again. The worse part was getting separated from In-ho who find you seeing how two players were dragging you so they could have the number they needed.

You havent see him get that angry in years, his protective self being on as he pulled one from the neck and punched the other one.

He kept punching almost forgetting there was a game you two were supposed to play.

"Leave him we still need two more" You urged only for a guard to shove two confused and scared players besides you and In-ho.

"We got them" He assured getting your hand and going to one room.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"In-ho!! (Y/N)!!" The worried screams of Gi-hun filled the place as he looked for both of you.

Even if he had promised to try and dont get attached to new players and survive he could not help but feel a connection with both of you.

"Gi-hun!" In-ho's voice called making him look over and see him coming towards the rest with you by hand something that made him curious but decided not to ask.

"Im glad to see you two alright" Gi-hun said seeing just a few bruises on you, and noticing blood on In-ho knuckles.

You catched his eyes and went to explain "He saved me" you told the rest looking at them then at In-ho who was looking back at you "I would have not made it otherwise"

The look of love you two shared was so genuine, some wonder if you two were together but trying to be discrete to protect yourselfs.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"They will most likely attack us tonight" Gi-hun explained as he showed the fork the guards had left when the food was given.

The idea only assented itself when the men returned from the bathroom, with blood on them. 

"And what do you propouse us to do?" In-ho asked all of the Xs were in a circle trying to listen to what Gi-hun had to say.

Gi-hun told the others his plan, honestly you thoguht it was nusts, it wont work. They were far suprassed on numbers but you had to shut yourself up.

You could tell your husband was both amazed by it and even kind of respecting it. Or at least that what he showed to him. He needed Gi-hun's trust after all.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Hide well" In-ho said besides you in a low tone "We can trust the guards but till they get here we cant trust the others"

You nodded knowing that very well since this was a typical phase of the game for years.

"We will be safe" You said holding his shoulder. "Do what you have to do, dont worry about me" You tried to make him feel at ease but he could not. The only thing that scared him more than anything were the other players trying to get to you.

"Just hang in there" He responded his forehead against yours.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The fight was on its hot spot. The players were killing each other without a second thought.

Nothing like living it, even if you have seen this type of thing multiple times. Its was unnerving to see them just going at each others troath. The screams and cries were too much for a moment, the dark did nothing to help.

Thats when you felt it. Someone had dragged you out from under the bed and was now on top of you. You saw the player move their left hand ready to Strike at you. You tried to punch and defend yourself but the person on top was too strong.

A cold scream left your mouth as the fork pierced your shoulder.

You could not help it, the adrenaline and anxiety was getting on you.

"In-ho! In-ho help me please" You screamed for him, your husband the love of your life.

"Shut up, the next one will be your neck" The person said and for a moment you saw it. Dying in here and leaving In-ho.

Till you felt the person being pushed and the screams of them. You blinked trying to make sense.

It was In-ho, he had taken the fork from the player and was now piercing the neck of the player, not even leaving a chance for them to survive.

"GO HIDE NOW!!" In-ho ordered, he being scared himself and angry. He saw red when you were dragged and it was for the brutal grip Gi-hun had on his arm that he did not move faster.

You did as told getting under another bed and making sure no one could reach you.

"You fucking scum! How dare you lay hands on my wife" In-ho almost screamed too angry to see that the player was now dead. All his face and hands where covered in blood.

"Stop it!! They are dead, we need to continue the plan, the lights will be back soon" Gi-hun said taking him and pulling him away from the dead player.

"Get (Y/N), and be ready" Gi-hun told him trying to keep himself calm even when he was close to jump over and save you and In-ho. He wondered if he had hear it right, you were his wife?

In-ho did not waste time, searching for you in the dark till he noticed you. He went quick, pulling yourself out from the bed telling you its was him.

"Shh shh its me, its over dont cry Love" He said trying to make you feel better.

"In-ho?" He nodded and you cried harder "In-ho I was so scared"

"I know love I know, just a bit more alright? It will be over soon. Listen once the guards come in and we follow Gi-huns plan do not come. Someone will come and get you"

"Im going with you, im not leaving you in a bullet fight!"

"You know nothings gonna happen to me, I want you here, safe, alright?"

Finally you accepted.

"I love you In-ho"

"I love you too Love"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

As In-ho had said when the guards got back after the fight one took you, Player 120 tried to protest but was put back in her place by other guard.

"You are under suspect of have been part of the riot. You are now eliminated from the games"

The guard said playing his role, starting to get you out of the room while you screamed following the act.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

"Apologies Madam, orders from the Front Man" The guard said bowing once you two were outside and out of reach from the others players.

Even if you were still breathing hard you nodded. "Dont worry, just take me to him". The guard nodded.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

He knew he was needed in the control room but refused to let you alone like that. He went to your share room, his heart broke at your image, bruises and blood over you. A guard was checking your shoulder but left after he order them to.

Silence fell over both of you as he went to you and hugged you careful not to hurt your shoulder.

He removed his mask to look at you properly.

"Im sorry, I should have never let you come, I should have stopped this sooner" He said with pain in his voice

"Dont blame yourself, I told you I was going in with you. This was not your fault In-ho" You reassured him feeling sad and worried over him.

"I cant not blame myself" He gently passed his hand over your cheeck "You are the best thing in my life and I almost lost you because of my own desires, never again"

You two kissed softly grounding yourselfs. You two were safe and together nothing else matters from now. Only the love and devotion you two had for each other.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

[choerypetal]

Silent Vengeance / Lee Myung-gi

summarize: Who would have thought that a man who sees himself as powerful could be reduced to selfishness by obsession, only for a knight in armor to heal a broken heart?

English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical errors, but I really hope you enjoy it! based on s2 squid game so spoilers ahead!

Thanos’s pride and the attention he commanded among the crowd stirred bitterness in some of the contestants—yours included. It baffled many that a retired rapper would stoop to participate in such brutal games, especially one that involved splashes of blood staining his clothes.

It wasn’t until after the Green Light, Red Light game that his focus shifted. He noticed a particular figure—a silhouette that intrigued him more than he cared to admit. The way you sprinted with precision, timing each step perfectly to freeze at the exact moment, or how you yanked another contestant’s hair to throw them off balance, was a calculated display of survival. That endurance, paired with your quiet defiance of the chaos around you—including his own—captivated Thanos from the very beginning.

While Thanos reveled in his lingering popularity, relishing how some followed his every move like sheep to a shepherd, he couldn’t ignore one undeniable truth: for once, he wasn’t the center of attention. That honor belonged to you.

And never in a thousand of years would he see you here. In flesh. Not after the break up.

Like many others, you had joined the Games with hopes of a better life—a seductive promise whispered by the Salesman. His grotesque smile lingered in your mind whenever you stole a moment to rest, though such moments were rare. Still, your demeanor betrayed none of the turmoil beneath. Your stony expression, coupled with your tendency to linger at the edges, observing the chaos with silent disdain, set you apart. To you, the Games were a grim spectacle—a macabre theater of desperation and misplaced hopes.

Despite this, a few contestants managed to draw you into sparse, fleeting conversations. Thanos, however, stood apart—not because you sought him out, but because he was the last person you’d have ever chosen to engage with. And yet, it fascinated him. Knowing your shared history, he found it almost poetic to see you here, standing as a quiet, untouchable force while his own magnetism faltered in your shadow.

“This prick is getting on my nerves,” someone muttered, their voice sharp enough to cut through the murmurs of the room. The words belonged to 333. His number stood out just as much as his presence as he slid into the seat beside you. You’d learned his name was Lee Myung-gi. He extended a hand toward you, his lips curling into a soft grin that hinted at practiced charm. You nodded slightly, mirroring the gesture out of courtesy. “Y/N,” you said plainly.

There was a pause before Myung-gi’s gaze flicked toward Thanos, his tone lowering conspiratorially. “I don’t mean to stir the pot or anything, but... word is, you and Thanos were a thing. He says you’re pretending not to remember him. And that’s why you—”

“333!”

Thanos’s voice cut through like a blade, silencing Myung-gi mid-sentence. Both of you turned your heads in unison, meeting Thanos’s unyielding stare. You recognized that look immediately—brows furrowed, his glare burning with thinly veiled fury. It was a warning, one that promised Myung-gi wouldn’t survive another word in your direction. The intensity of it could rival any of the Games themselves.

“You should go,” you said quietly, your tone flat but decisive. Your eyes barely glanced at Myung-gi, let alone at Thanos. Yet the weight of his gaze pressed heavily on you, and something inside you churned—a mix of unease, defiance, and something far harder to name.

You wanted to let loose a string of curses, every sharp word you could think of—but you stopped yourself. The memory of a promise lingered in the back of your mind.

Never speak to one another after the breakup.

It was a fragile vow, one you both had clung to out of pride or necessity. But deep down, you knew it was only a matter of time before it shattered completely.

It wasn’t until the bathroom game that the tension reached its breaking point. Thanos never imagined he’d find himself mere feet away from you again, let alone in the confines of a separate room. Yet here he was, his determination undeterred, even as 333 hovered too close for his liking. Thanos wasn’t subtle about his intentions—he wouldn’t let anyone, least of all Myung-gi, encroach on what he still felt was his.

The image of you and 333 pressing X together during the last game still burned in Thanos’s mind, a fresh wound that refused to heal. It festered, replaying over and over like a mocking refrain, igniting a possessive anger he could no longer contain.

As he stepped into the bathroom hall, his focus zeroed in on Myung-gi, the irritation bubbling into something darker. “You’re getting all worked up. So there is something going on,” Thanos said, his voice low and edged with menace.

He stepped closer, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “If you press X again tomorrow...” Thanos leaned in, his words a venomous whisper, “I’ll cut off your finger and give it to her.”

Myung-gi’s jaw tightened at the threat, his discomfort evident. But what unsettled him more was the reason you’d pressed X with him in the first place. It wasn’t a calculated strategy or an empty gesture—it was a fleeting grasp at safety, something you rarely allowed yourself. While you were usually stoic, Myung-gi’s quiet acts of care had chipped away at your defenses, enough to make you question your own resolve.

Thanos couldn’t stand it. The rules of the Games were unambiguous, but what he thought he saw—the almost imperceptible closeness between you and Myung-gi, the way your lips hovered as if to kiss—was enough to set his blood ablaze. The possibility, imagined or not, was more than he could bear.

And that was the last straw. 

“And ask her out. She’ll love it.” 

“You asshole!” Thanos barely registered the punch before his jaw throbbed, the sharp sting waking something primal in him. His thumb brushed over his chin, checking for blood, before he retaliated with equal ferocity. “You motherfucker!” he snarled, his fist connecting with satisfying force.

Chaos erupted as their hands found each other’s throats, both grappling for dominance. Myung-gi’s back slammed against the bathroom stall, the sound echoing in the tight space. They crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, fists flying without restraint. “Your money, your girl, your life—they’re all mine!” Thanos spat, driving his fist into Myung-gi’s cheek with enough force to make his knuckles ache.

But then, everything shifted. Thanos froze, his breath hitching as blood sprayed from his own mouth, splattering across Myung-gi’s face. The sudden realization of injury shocked him into silence. Without a word, he pulled back, retreating to the shadows of the stall, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

And yet, in that moment of pain and rage, his mind wasn’t on the fight—it was on you. Always you.

The bathroom games were over. The stalls were scrubbed clean of the chaos that had unfolded, leaving little trace of what had transpired. As you and Myung-gi stepped out, your eyes met briefly. The way he looked at you—earnest, searching—was impossible to ignore. The remaining contestants loitered nearby, their presence a quiet reminder of the fragile truce this space demanded. But Thanos was nowhere to be found. Somehow, the thought of his absence made your shoulders feel just a little lighter.

Despite the unspoken rule of no interactions before returning to the dorms, Myung-gi broke it without hesitation. He rushed toward you, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. For a moment, you froze, unsure. But your hands instinctively found his face, fingers brushing over the bruise already darkening on his cheek.

You couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts about Thanos—how he’d reacted to other men during your relationship, the jealousy that often burned too brightly. The memories made your stomach twist with dread. But as your thumb grazed Myung-gi’s cheek, his eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the comfort of your touch.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tension lingering in the air.

He let out a quiet scoff, his lips curling into a faint, tired smile. “The prick’s finally getting what he deserves anyway.”

[youryurigoddess]

So one thing led to another, and I’ve just paid a visit to the first (that we know of) confirmed Good Omens S3 filming locations. Due to the obvious sensitivity of this material, please tag it accordingly and share only with the fans consenting to know potential spoilers.

A fellow Good Omens fan has mentioned that residents of a certain Edinburgh area had unexpected guests recently, knocking on their door and telling them they are filming in their street soon. Imagine their surprise when a polite question about the details led to the offhand answer: “IT'S ONLY GOOD OMENS”.

For those unaware, the City of Edinburgh Council has been working really hard on promoting the city for film and TV industry for a few years now (the effects of which we saw in S2), and has a set of very clear and very publicly available guidelines regarding the modus operandi here.

The Good Omens production has both large scale and a high impact on a specific location due to the crew size, amount of technology used, and requirement for crowd control in most of the exterior and interior scenes (e.g., bookshop, pub, or coffee shop windows), which is why not only the local authorities, but also residents were informed about the filming with an at least 8 days notice:

Ironically, I just had happened to have a trip here planned and a hotel booked within walking distance to the locations on the attached TM and parking plan map, so it would be a waste not to use this opportunity for the greater good of the fandom. Can’t stay long enough to see the actual crew, so unfortunately the hair photos will have to be made by someone else. Disappointing, I know. But there’s still a lot to be excited about!

According to the provided notice, the filming will happen within one working day with the required set-up planned for the day before, mostly in the afternoon hours. The attached map shows planned parking suspension and SYL dispensation on two streets close to the chosen locations, which is where the trailers and equipment vehicles will park:

Location One turns out to be, rather surprisingly, a cosy corner bookshop. The shop — one of the Edinburgh’s oldest surviving secondhand bookstores — is very small, but crammed with a wide ranging library of beautiful books to serve readers and collectors, including antiquarian true first editions and signed copies.

It’s giving Muriel’s sweet and whimsical charm, but the bits and pieces of the unpublished Good Omens sequel point out not towards Whickber Street, where the angel currently resides, but more towards a new in-universe location. Maybe one that will be opened in the future post-Second Coming, maybe one that will remind one of the characters about a home base of operations back in the heart of London’s Soho (and theirs— wait, who said that?).

Notice that the road closure includes north and south sides of the pavement visible in the last photo, so both indoor and outdoor shots could be expected:

Location Two seems a bit more complex, since it’s basically a skewed triangle consisting of one longer street and a short side street diverging from it. Conveniently for the filmmakers, the architecture here is uncharacteristic enough that it could be easily presented as British, Scottish, or even American. I’m personally a bit partial to the last option since it would make sense story- and budget-wise, especially now with the two people previously adamant on shooting the US scenes only on location there not on the production team anymore.

The contrasting structures and materials visible here easily offer background for multiple potential contexts and scenarios, so much in fact that it’s easy to imagine more than one scene being shot here for cost- and time-effective reasons. Some of the buildings along the cobbled road have the right look and feel for historical flashbacks, as you can see below. I find the two separate entrances next to each other particularly lovely:

A considerable part of the buildings in the area, however, belongs to a more modern complex that communicates a very different personality and function. With a bit of camera and post-production magic, it could transform to a wide range of settings — please let me know your thoughts and ideas if you have any!

Specific filming times and more detailed information are consciously not shared out of concern for the crew and cast members who clearly don’t want them to become public knowledge. Those of you who live in the area and might visit the set anyway, please don’t forget to make sure that your presence won’t bother them as well as other locals. And remember to keep any new photos and information contained with tags so that you won’t spoil it to the people who would rather wait for the movie itself!

[sandraharissa]

I think one of the many things wrong with Jinx this season is how like, half of her personality was cut off and thrown out.

Like her reaction to grief. We see her suicidal after Silco’s death and she’ll be again very suicidal after Isha’s death. Makes sense. Don’t have notes on that part. However I have so much notes on her rage. In s1 we see Powder sometimes responding to bad situation by being shy and sad, but sometimes she reacts in a more adversarial way, like complaining they should try fighting Piltover or trying to stand up to Mylo. But we also get these moments like when she’s left behind and has an absolute meltdown and starts wrecking shit but more importantly her reaction to Silco. He says they’ll show them all and she throws the audience the most rage fueled look you’ve ever seen. When really pushed beyond her limits this is Powder’s emotional reaction to tragedy/being wronged. We see that all throughout acts II and III and we see it when she blows up the council after Silco dies. And that’s the problem cos that’s the part that’s missing from s2. They cut her personality in half and only kept one half. Anger as part of her personality and reaction to grief was discarded when writing her in s2. Even tho she goes through a lot of grieving in s2.

Another example is Isha. Jinx prioritizing family and just chilling? Wanting affectionate interactions with family? Having an easier relationship with a younger family member cos there aren’t any expectations or need to prove anything or gain anyone’s attention? No fear of abandonment/betrayal? She just has this kid who hero worships her and follows her around like a puppy so no stress? No notes. However I have a lot of notes about Jinx’s paranoia and how not normal and possessive and toxic she is about relationships. And I have notes on the generational trauma. Where did all that go? That’s not how ppl work. Living in a messed up society and Silco’s parenting won’t just evaporate like that cos Isha is just so overwhelmingly cute. It’s more likely that Jinx would corrupt the kid. (which you could argue on paper she does cos the kid in the end thought that suicide was dope but why did the narrative frame it as this beautiful thing lol)

And on the topic of fighting Piltover where did “we beat the enforcers with just the four of us imagine what the whole Lanes could do” go? Jinx definitely prioritized family more but she wasn’t neutral or indifferent on the Piltover matter. The enforcers wrong her/hurt her/threaten her family yet again, they kidnapped Isha, and she just acts panicked and sad, but also jokes and quips while on the mission. Where’s the rage and hatred and desire for revenge on the ppl who wronged her? Sometimes it’s just ppl around her being mean or lying or smth, anyone could be her enemy, like Sevika, Silco or Vi, but a lot of the time it’s Piltover, they killed her parents, they were her fathers’ enemies and drove them to hate each other, they chased them as kids and tried to arrest them, they kidnapped and abused Vi in prison all her adolescence, they would have killed Vi so she blew up the whole blockade, Council tried to turn Silco against her and now he’s dead so she bombs them, all her life she can see that the quality of their life is bad bcos of Piltover, she’s in Jayce’s apartment and immediately goes for the sandwich. Jinx doesn’t come off as a very politically/ideologically motivated character but what happened to all her personal beef with Piltover?

They also inexplicably just ceased to write her fucking up all the time. what about her y’know, being a jinx? In s1 even in acts II and III when she is proficient in fighting and bomb-making they still constantly show her being more of a burden and fucking up in other ways. While never explained (which was good) to me it came off as a symptom of trauma and being neurodivergent, like how ADHD kids can’t escape the allegations that they’re lazy, but on a meta level it did make it feel like she was supernaturally cursed. Part of what felt so profound and empowering about s1 finale and her embracing being jinx it that it was her embracing that she’s different (and ‘wrong’ in some ways) and can never live a happy life in the society she lives in and so she lashes out. Now she just chills and nothing ever doesn’t go her way (ig until Isha died but that wasn’t even directly her fault, Isha just acted on her own choice and agency). Suddenly her mental issues don’t exist or get in the way of her socializing and being a part of society. This bigoted, violent and unfair society.

Don’t even get me started on her mannerisms. Remember how she would bite her lip? I’m not sure if she does that even once in s2. “Sister, thought I missed her”??? let Jinx rhyme sometimes and in general say weird shit, not one-liners.

So the only way for the writers to have Jinx do nothing, heal up completely and just chill with a kid in her lair (and really everything else she does (or doesn’t do) this season) is to get rid of half of her personality, the traits that would dictate she take action and feel wrath and lash out/hurt her loved ones in the process.

All of her tragic traits from s1 that made her Jinx were just erased, not changed throughout the course of an arc, absent from the get go, so that they can have her say that Jinx is dead and have it make sense in the context of s2 cos from her very first appearance is s2 this Jinx was devoid of pretty much all of her jinx-y character traits from s1.

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Viktor x Reader Headcanons

Pronouns for reader: Gender neutral, AFAB undertones if you squint

Relationship type: Platonic to Romantic

General Idea: Some silly little headcanons I have for Viktor because he's still my silly little princess. Even after the whole glorious evolution thing.

Content Warnings: S1 Viktor, no S2 spoilers, But there as little bit of s2 viktor's mindset, I'm projecting a little bit (a lot) but it's fine.

~☆~

I honestly see Viktor as asexual with light aromantic undertones (kinda like demiromantic, I guess??). He rarely ever developes romantic feelings. Like its a once in a blue moon thing.

Like... he has to know you for YEARS before something in his head is like "Oh... hey they kinda cute?"

However, when he DOES develop feelings that go beyond friendship, Viktor HEAVILY struggles with coming to terms with them. Not in like a "I don't DO feelings" type way, but more in a "Well... no... it could be this" type of way.

Oh, his heart rate speeds up a little bit when you two accidently brush hands? It must just be his nerves.

When he does realize that he has feelings for someone, it's kind of like that scene in Gravity Falls where Dipper is like "It's not like I stay awake at night thinking about Wendy" and it cuts to him laying awake thinking about Wendy XD

If he likes someone romantically, he talks about them a lot. Like as if trying to bring them up as much as he can. Like "Oh (Y/N) mentioned something about that book, said they really liked it" Or "(Y/N) actually said something similar about that topic" If he could yap about you for hours, he probably would.

Even if you're being PAINFULLY obvious about your romantic feelings towards Viktor, he will firmly believe you're just being friendly.

Why he does it is a mix between two things: one is that he's just not awesome with people. And second is that he firmly believes someone like you could never love someone like him back.

One night, Viktor had been constantly working without break, so you practically dragged him to his room by his ear and forced him to get some rest.

Viktor has a strong habit of having his workspace FILLED with old mugs, sometimes days old. He doesn't really mean to, just too wrapped up in Hextech to really notice.

He also struggles with meals too. Just like above, because he literally just gets too wrapped up in his work.

If Viktor actually confesses feelings, it's such an interesting experience. Because he doesn't just flat out say "Hey I have feelings for you". He stumbles over his words and rambles about something random in the middle of it. So you gotta help him out a little bit.

Viktor's love language is quality time. He'll make sure his seat is next to you when it can, he always yaps about what he's uncovered about Hextech.

Speaking of Hextech, if you just sit there and watch him work? He'd about die of happiness on the spot. If you, someone he really loved, took an interest to something he truly loved DOING? Perfect.

He used to get really flustered about physical affection. Like you held his hand one time and he about combusted. He was red in the face for hours. He got better with it overtime, of course. But for the first few months, he was pretty much bright red the whole time.

Dates are rare, neither of you have the time for it. But when you two do have dates of some kind, they're mostly stay at home type things.

You know that thing kids do? Like playing their own separate things together? Parallel play, I think it's called? Yeah you two do that a lot.

Viktor will be reading some papers and you'll be reading a book, your feet in his lap.

Speaking of, Viktor is such a reader omg He doesn't read a lot anymore due to his constant workload, but when he does, he reads a lot of like... old books. The ones with yellowing pages and smell nice? Yeah... those ones!

If you two slept in the same bed, he'd be all like... giggly and nervous the first few times. Just like affection, he'd get used to it. But it's still cute.

When you two are cuddling, run your fingers in his hair. He'll melt right into you regardless of the situation. It's like an instant relax button for him.

Him laying his head on your chest, and you running your fingers through his hair? Something about it just... works. It calms him down a lot and makes him feel at peace.

His favorite place to kiss is the crook of your neck. Especially if you're around his height (he's like... between 5'7 and 5'10. I don't remember exactly).

Or your temples. It's simple, it doesn't attract a lot of attention. And let's be real, it's underrated as hell.

He's not big on PDA, but he'll hold your hand in public. He likes holding onto just one of your fingers, like your pinkie or something like that. It, just like temple kisses, is simple and discreet.

He doesn't often say "I love you". He feels bad about it, but you don't mind. He often says I love you without saying it. Things like holding you while you sleep, kissing your forehead as you two read in each other's arms, weaving your fingers with his while he works.

He gets self-conscious a lot. He thinks you could do a lot better than him and that he's not perfect.

Please kiss this poor boy all over and tell him he's perfect as is 😭😭

~☆~

A/N:The Arcane brainrot has gotten to me... This is how I'm coping with the finale. But I've wanted to write Viktor or Sevika stuff for a HOT minute now. I've been in the Arcane fandom for YEARS (a fanfic writer even longer) but this is my first Arcane fic... wild XD

For more fics: my masterlist!

~Squeed

[hellotailor]

Apologies if you've already done a post on this and I've just missed it, but can I ask for your take on the pyjamas worn by the cast of interview with vampire? I mean technically they're not a 100% necessary item, but just from a quick look there seems to be a lot of variety and they do change over the series

ok, i’m delighted by the specificity of this question, and it turns out that i have a VERY extensive answer.

there’s a lot of sleepwear in IWTV due to the volume of bedroom/coffin scenes, and like any other outfit, these costumes are shaped by characterization and historical period. for instance claudia initially wears a long, modest, frilly nightgown - an old-fashioned style that plays into her girlish doll wardrobe purchased by louis and lestat. however her sleepwear matures over the years, including a trendy lace nightdress with bloomers in the 1920s (note the rectangular silhouette), and a pink padded jacket/pastel robe outfit in 1940s paris. she's following contemporary trends while charting a visible trajectory from child to adult.

when i wrote about the Théâtre des Vampires coven costumes, i noted that while their wardrobes share certain themes (ie. monochrome patterns and stripes), they each have specific personal tastes. that holds true for sleepwear. in the S2 finale we see the coven going to bed in their coffins, with Eglee in a gorgeous (maybe 1940s?) robe, Celeste in a striped pajama suit reflecting her 1920s-30s cabaret style, and Armand in a plain grey set of prison jammies because he's Suffering.

of course, the star pajama outfits all belong to Louis and Lestat, playing into their wealthy domestic aesthetic in S1. they receive multiple bedroom/coffin scenes, and Lestat's gold Leyendecker robe is obviously iconic.

touching on the historical side of things for a moment, pajamas (as in a matching buttondown top and loose pants) were popularized in the western world in the 19th century, as a repurposed south asian import - kind of like how banyans became trendy among the upper classes in 18th century england. this was when loungewear started to catch on as a concept, both in terms of dressing gowns and smoking jackets (which you could wear while socializing at home) and actual pajamas, which became unisex in the 1920s.

back in his human life in the 18th century, Lestat probably slept naked or wore a shapeless white nightgown (and possibly a nightcap, the sexiest of garments). but in New Orleans he adopts Louis' lifestyle, which involves a luxurious wardrobe of fashionable menswear. they're both into shopping and looking good, and i think they enjoy the ritual of getting dressed together each night.

(i also have a personal theory that Lestat may prefer to sleep fully clothed because his formative traumatic memory involves waking up naked in the dark. after all, he doesn't need pajamas to stay warm, and he doesn't have a recent habit of wearing them in his human life like Louis does. then again, maybe he just enjoys having a new outfit for every occasion!)

in Dubai, we only get one scene (iirc) with Louis and Armand in their pajamas, lying in bed wearing outfits that tie into the striped prison bar imagery of their bedroom. Armand is in warmer brown tones (like his Paris wardrobe) while Louis is in black and grey, like the rest of his Dubai outfits. i'd also note that this is the one place where they're genuine in private, meaning that they aren't putting on a show for Daniel. so this is potentially Armand's most relaxed costume in the present day.

the fact that they're wearing this kind of old-school sleepwear feels very appropriate for their whole deal, imo. in the 21st century, a lot of people just sleep in boxers and t-shirts or whatever. there's a slightly 20th century vibe to wearing a full set of buttondown pajamas, and Armand's outfit reads as more stylish (and possibly more wealthy) than your average millennial guy. which makes sense! they're old men.

i think we can assume that every single thing in their Dubai home is ferociously expensive, even when it doesn't need to be. considering the way Louis gives himself a modern makeover in the finale, i do wonder if he'll switch over to sleeping in t-shirts etc next season, or if he'll stick with variations of the same sleepwear he wore during his mortal life.

p.s. all of my iwtv design posts are available on this tag!

[poisoned-fruit-prose]

𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭.

synop: what do you do when you've lost it all?

wc: 3k.

request from anon: Hello! If it’s okay, may I request a Viktor x reader (established relationship) fic where Viktor, Jayce and reader were a trio in creating the hextech, but after the final battle in s2, both Viktor and Kayce are trapped in the astral plane (I refuse the notion that they are gone gone), but can see everyone and follow people around like unseen ghosts. With them gone, it’s just reader as she’s sitting at the ledge both Viktor and Jayce were about to jump in their respective times, but stopped because of the others, but now, it’s just reader all alone, burning the papers with their names on it as Viktor and Jayce sit on both sides of her. Flesh it out however you want!!

includes: angst. major character deaths. tw for suicidal thoughts. some unexpected comfort, but not enough.

author's note: oh anon, i can tell we share such similar feelings on those final scenes. i decided to write this with the assumption that jayce and reader are very close friends too—in fact, they conceived and began the secret research on hextech together. jayce and reader went through that certifiable hell of a timeline together as well. i'm extremely unwell about the "only you" quote to the point where i'm getting it tattooed on my clavicles, so of course i had to include it. when viktor says this, he means both jayce and you. you three are a trinity, previously believed inseparable. i hope you enjoy.

“Was I not enough?”

“You were everything.”

Viktor wanted nothing more than feel you beside him again. Your voice and mere existence were holy salves in this limbo—but oh, what he would do to touch you again. To wipe the tears from your eyes and tuck you against his chest and hold you until you smiled up at him again.

“You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Had you been atop the Hexgate, fighting like you should’ve alongside Jayce, you could’ve shared the burden of death with the two people tantamount to your existence. But you couldn’t kill Viktor. You understood why Jayce had to do it, to destroy the commune and commit the ultimate, heinous crime; and you wouldn’t stop him, but you wouldn’t go either. You holed away in the lab, windows sealed shut, and wallowed in darkness.

You were never one to let things destroy you. The life you led with Viktor was filled with nothing but discovery, sunshine, and base adoration. Setbacks were trivial. With Viktor at your side, you always worked through them.

All this, though? This wasn’t a setback.

This was obliteration.

You were slumped over on the familiar table when the battle began, blanket cradling you, leaning against Viktor’s cane as you numbly listened to the bombs and the guns and the screams. Maybe Viktor’s soldiers didn’t register you as a lifeform; maybe he purposefully passed you over. All that made you lift your head was a sudden quiet.

And then Viktor and Jayce were gone.

Viktor was belated at your survival, even more so than his own; yet even he couldn’t deny the importance of Jayce’s sacrifice. They didn’t finish this together—not without you. This magical plane was extraordinary and he shared it with his closest friend. But your absence was inescapable. It left a constant, marring hunger in his chest. You were missing. He was unbalanced.

The piece of hair that always fell across your face parted your forehead and Viktor itched to push it off your skin, tuck it behind your ear. Even without a body he could feel the sickness of his want for you.

You sobbed again, chest heaving as the clouds cracked above you and drowned Piltover with rain. You had been so close to stabilizing the Hexcore.

Then the attack on the Council.

Then Viktor virtually dying.

Wrong place, wrong time.

You were crying like a little kid. You hadn’t needed to in a long time. Snot and hiccups and gobs and gobs of tears. You had lost utterly everything. Not just Hextech—all of the realm of magic. Jayce. Viktor. The hope for a happy ending. Rosy, golden memories were tainted with the knowledge of their ending.

Viktor and Jayce stayed with you, invisible, as you grieved on the infamous edge. If only you could tilt the prism of reality—just a smidge—and refract them into your view. If only you knew it could be done. You’d see the kaleidoscope of their bodies pressed against each side of you, keeping you pinned to the ledge; Jayce’s head on your shoulder, Viktor’s hands running through your hair.

“There must be some way to speak to her,” Viktor murmured. His hands phased through you, but he still tried to card his fingers through your locks anyway. “This whole realm of infinite knowledge—it is beautiful. Perfect. But it doesn’t even compare.”

“Now’s not the time for I-told-you-so’s, but…”

Viktor’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head at Jayce’s words, yet he appreciated his ability to jest. There wasn’t much else to do but reflect or watch over you; his humor was a refuge in what felt like an impenetrable fog.

You, of course, didn’t hear him. You stayed stubbornly inconsolable. Two parts of your trinity worried you would finally do what they failed to. You were so close to falling—you already had emotionally. It felt only natural that the physical should follow.

You thought of the first night you met Viktor, when you placed your reputation and life on his ideas in making Hextech conceivable. When you were engulfed in that first field of magic. The three of you swimming in air, stars, and runes.

You thought of floating. You sobbed and started to believe if you tilted forward, just enough, you could fly with them again.

Third time’s the charm.

“There you are,” a voice gasped. A voice in your plane. Could be another ghost for all you care.

Mel crouched behind you and placed a warm hand on your shoulder. Being Jayce’s beau and an important advocate for Hextech, Mel had become a rather important part of your life—and a desperately-needed girlfriend, at that. When the stars aligned, your spa nights and genuine conversations always gave you a fresh perspective and a good break from the sometimes monotonous lab.

“Please, leave me alone,” you croaked.

“Teetering on the edge of a maintenance shaft? I know you’re grieving, but I can’t let you do that.” Mel’s hand pressed down on you, urging your body away from the precipice.

You wailed, refused to move. “How am I supposed to keep going on? My life—” You interrupted yourself with a sputtering sob, “—is meaningless without them!”

“That is not true,” she insisted. Her hand stayed firm. “I’m grieving them too. And if you do this, I’ll have lost you too.” She stepped out into the rain to grab your shoulders and force you to look at her. “You cannot live a life defined by other people.”

“Then what was the point of loving?”

Mel’s face turned stony as you glared up at her. Your words bit a new consideration into her mind. She hadn’t experienced the hellish landscape of your potential future, devoid of emotion for the sake of progress. She hadn’t kneeled before the iteration of Viktor who had seen it all—every timeline, every possibility—and been the recipient of his declaration that only you could show him this. She hadn’t loved or experienced Viktor and magic like you. She would never understand the hole that tore into you, a supernova that was determined to take you with it. You didn’t have a life without Viktor or magic. You had let it consume you, happily—the loss of it would surely erase you. There would be nothing left.

“...I can’t make the pain go away,” Mel began. Her voice was measured, but it held a softness for you that belied her own grief. “And it never will go away. It will get smaller, but it will always be there. But if you let that expound you, then you really never will love again.” Viktor watched as Mel pushed your hair off your forehead. A small moment of catharsis for him. Finally, your beautiful face.

“Are you going to let the universe make that choice for you, when we have all since learned the importance of having that power?”

You looked up at her, eyes pleading, soaked to the bone. You were a shattered tea cup on the floor. She was scooping you up. She wanted to repair you with gold.

“I miss them so much, Mel,” you whimpered. She leaned forward and hugged you to her chest, your head atop her collarbone as you sobbed. She held you in the rain and pulled you off the edge.

“I know,” she murmured back. “I do too. Moving on is impossible, when we are a mosaic of all the people and events of our lives. But we can move forward. We just have to gather ourselves up first.”

Mel helped you make a bed in the lab that night. You just wanted to surround yourself in it all again, and she would allow you—for a little while.

You dreamt of them. A kaleidoscope of colors, their voices, their faces in horrific clarity. A flash of light, and you swore you could feel the warmth of Viktor’s hands on your cheeks.

Only you.

You choked awake, dead of night, and immediately burst into tears as you held your own face in poor imitation of Viktor. Your chest was ripping apart. You were sure if you looked down, you’d see the muscle and sinew and bone, the beating of your heart in its cavity, your lungs heaving, your blood gushing off the sides of the bed.

But you opened your eyes to a room faint with moonlight. Viktor’s cloak spread over you as a blanket. You gathered it in your arms and burrowed your face into it. You knew the scent would be lost, sooner than you needed it to stay, so you greedily gulped lungfuls of air through the familiar fabric as you bled and bled and bled.

You fell asleep only out of sheer exhaustion and a headache that enervated every bit of fight from you.

Mel awoke you at dawn with a swarm of Noxian servants. Two ripped the curtains off the lab’s windows, forever washing it in sunlight once more and making you groan atop your makeshift cushions. The mage kneeled beside your bed, rubbing your arm through the sheets.

“Lots to do today,” she murmured. “But first, breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry,” you protested lamely.

“You don’t have an appetite,” she corrected. “You are hungry, though.”

You didn’t bother to retort. You didn’t have the energy. You internally grimaced at that, knowing it probably was because you hadn’t eaten since Jayce and you had returned to your home timeline.

Mel helped you sit up as a servant placed a silver platter of food before you. Huge, juicy fruits, meats that would melt on your tongue, eggs and fresh bread and butter—it all smelled nauseating. You looked visibly ill at the sight of it. You looked visibly ill in general.

Mel sat beside you on the cushions and broke the bread. The crust crunched in her hands as she offered a bite for you. It was mindless, the way you took it and stuck it in your mouth. Its taste hardly registered. You chewed mechanically, swallowed. And Mel offered you another.

With the patience of a saint, she fed you until you ate half of the small loaf. She tried one of the fruits, but you gave her a pleading look to not try; so she had the rest of the food sent away and hoisted you to your feet.

With the lab awash in light, everything laid out in front of you in perfect clarity. You saw a page with Viktor’s handwriting and immediately sobbed, bent over in pain as you snatched it off the table and smashed to your chest. Mel caught you and helped you stand upright. She shushed you, wiped your tears.

Viktor lived through her. His spirit watched over you and pretended Mel’s hands were his.

The mage ordered the servants to clean up the papers, have them set out of view. You wailed, begged, for her not to, to let you wallow over them and crumple them against your face and scar them into your skin. But she did not relent. She held you with gentle firmness as the lab was cleared of Viktor and Jayce.

So began the next few weeks. As the world shifted to react to the Battle of Piltover, Mel simultaneously accepted rule over the Noxians and took you under her wing. Each step you took, you took together. The papers were the first. Then it was getting you out of the lab, back into your own room. Leaving you alone for meals. Reading you the letters Violet and Caitlyn and countless others had left you.

You started getting up on your own. You felt numb to everything, but some level of worldly shuttering had to happen so you could just take care of yourself.

Viktor laid with you at night. He pretended his fingers were grazing over your cheek and your warmth was pressed against him one more. He already knew you were strong enough to recover from this.

After all, you were everything.

Months. You think, at least. You lost track of time in your grief. You’re sure you would’ve lost much more without Mel.

Golden hour in the lab was the most beautiful. Sunlight sparkled off every surface and washed everything in honey-glazed hues. It used to be your favorite time of the day. So many memories of Viktor and you testing, discovering, being. The walks you used to take through the nearby gardens. The day you harnessed flight for individual use, you two taking it for a run in a magical fly over Piltover. The dinners Jayce would bring when you both were too lost in work. The unextraordinary days of no progress. You’d kill to have just one more.

Months ago, just being aware of the time of day brought you to your knees. It still hurt, now, but you had it on a leash. It growled and pulled and sometimes got away; but today your grief was being surprisingly well-behaved. So you wandered to a cabinet. The door creaked when you opened it.

You sat in the curve of the alcove. Machinery whirred behind you. Piltover gleamed ahead of you, resplendent beneath a halcyon sky. Your back, flush with the edge of the window, slid down as you dangled a foot off the ledge. Viktor sat on the other side, on another plane, watching you fondly. You were pouring over the old papers. The Hexcore stared up at you in sketches, as formulas, overarching concepts. Your fingers brushed over Viktor’s signature scribbled tightly beside yours.

You pushed yourself out of the curve and toed the ledge. Viktor’s expression dropped. Jayce flocked to your other side as if to stop you. You looked down and thought of flying. You brought the papers up to your eyes again.

You ripped the parchment in half, Hexcore on one, Viktor’s handwriting on the other. You let the wind lift it from your hands. Viktor moved to sit beside you. Jayce followed.

You turned back to the stack. Grabbed another piece.

Shhhkt.

Runes drifted in one direction. Your signatures in another.

Shhhkt.

Shhhkt.

Shhhkt.

Shhhkt. Shhhkt. Shhhkt. Shhhkt.

Shhhkt.

You watched as stars of paper floated away from you. You suddenly realized what you'd done. You collapsed onto the platform, curled over yourself, as you held the rest of the stack to your chest and wailed. Viktor pretended his hand didn't phase through yours, pretended that his fingers were capturing yours, that you could hear him as he murmured assurances and comforts against your ear. They were just papers, you'd write a new copy when you got back to the lab, he'd draw his signature as many times as you needed it. Just come back, step away. You'd all be back to your gloriously routine evenings before you knew it.

But all you saw was the ledge. Past it, a sprawling world with nothing in it for you.

"There must be a way," Viktor murmured. You were sleeping later that night. He was laying beside you, memorizing every atom of you. Jayce sat beside him on the edge of the bed. You had the sheer grit to tear yourself away from the edge again; but even after months of grueling recovery, you had still come far too close to it. That terrified everyone but you.

"We don't have anything here. Ideas can't be reality, not when everything is just..." Jayce gestured around them in frustration. "Speculation."

"A connection can't be impossible."

"I'm not even sure how to look for one."

Viktor was looking at you when Jayce grumbled those words. The revelation dawned over them simultaneously. He looked up at his partner, then back at you.

He cupped your head in his hands, leaned in as he ran his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. Your expression squeezed in discomfort from the branding, searing pain that came with seeing his face again. The veil was thin between your planes when you dreamed. Sometimes you'd see through to them, feel Viktor's spirit touch your weary one, hear his voice in shattering lucidity for an ephemeral moment. But you'd always believed they were just that—dreams.

All Viktor wanted was to make you happy again, with or without them. But maybe if you knew you weren't just having nightmares, that it really was them, you'd find a new purpose. You'd find a way.

Only you.

You gasped awake. You flung the blankets off your body, haphazardly threw Viktor's robes around your shoulders, and sprinted out of your bedroom.

Mel wanted to clean the chalkboards ages ago, but you were adamant they stayed as they were. Papers could be hidden until you were ready, preserved and untouched; these writings on the walls were virtually intangible. Once they were erased, they would never return again. All that would be left were ghosts. Palimpsests.

You burst into the room. In one hand, a bucket of water and soap that sloshed at your feet; the other, a scrub brush. You dunked the bristles into the suds and slashed a wound of water across the chalkboard. It bled white as you scrubbed furiously. You didn’t bother with the whole thing. You weren’t ready for that.

But you were ready for at least a sliver of a blank slate.

You used the long ends of Viktor’s robe to dry the board. His spirit stood beside you, watching you carve into the past. Jayce took your other side in pride.

You gripped a piece of chalk off the tray and pressed it to the clearing. You hesitated, your grief biting regret into you for being so rash; only hours earlier had you destroyed important scientific documents.

Your trinity rested their hands on your shoulders.

Only you.

You nodded, almost imperceptibly, almost in acknowledgment of them.

Then, you began anew.

dividers used: paper • scribbles

[creganslover]

Spicetown Shore

Pairing: Addam of Hull x Fem! Targaryen! Reader

Summary: Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, she had no choice but to let you be the one to confront Seasmoke's new rider.

Word count: 2.7k

Warning/s: s2 spoilers! canon events followed but strayed towards the end, not beta read so sorry for any mistakes!

Note: so hotd s2 just finished and i am absolutely in shambles and also in love w addam so i just know i had to get this out there. if i have the time perhaps, i could write for more hotd characters <3 likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are greatly appreciated.

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

Last evening upon learning Seasmoke had gained a new rider upon the sands of Spicetown, Rhaenyra was taken aback, especially with the events that happened regarding the late Ser Steffon Darklyn, a member of Rhaenyra’s Queensgard helplessly burned by Seasmoke’s flames with the hopes to claim the dragon by Rhaenyra’s idea of playing chance with folk who looked to even have a chance of having dragonseed within them. 

Now this morn, Rhaenyra paced the hall as the council looked at each other as the news had been disseminated. Eventually, Rhaenyra halts and she places her finger on the table, looking at everyone. “There is no choice, I must ride dragonback to meet this new rider and know where they stand.” Rhaenyra voiced. 

Jacerys was the first one to disagree, refusing to even let his mother out of his sights, the council agreeing. “Your grace, the prince is right, you would be left vulnerable if you chase the unknown dragon rider on your own.” Lord Baltimos agreed, Jacaerys gesturing to the older man to make a point as he looked back to his mother. 

“Then what would you have me do? Seasmoke is out there flying the skies with a new rider that we know nothing of, nor where they stand whilst we are on the brink of war!” Rhaenyra countered, exhaling loudly as she rubbed at her temple with her hand, trying to massage the tension, though all of her body was tense.

You, however, had also been the one to receive the news early, now marching towards the hall of Dragonstone, the voices of countless opinions, risks and ideas being shared getting louder as did your footsteps, a Queensgard announcing your presence making the Black Council’s heads turn. 

“Daughter.” Rhaenyra breathed. “Where have you been?” She said in worry, brows creased as you stood across from her. 

But you did not even answer her question as you had already made up your mind. “Let me be the one to go, mother.” 

Jacaerys, your older brother turned to face you next, and he was about to speak. Though already sensing what he was going to say, you spoke again to halt his words. “I know my way through Spicetown and its beaches,” you began. “Surely spotting Seasmoke and his rider is an easy task.” You added, since you’ve been known to ride out often on your dragon to explore, taking after your mother Rhaenyra to which the latter now could see the stubbornness she once possessed. 

“Your grace, if I may,” interjected Lord Simon as he looked at you then back at Rhaenyra. “The princess has a habit of scouting Dragonstone and nearby islands, surely Spicetown had been one of them.” You offer Lord Simon a thankful nod before facing your mother once more. 

Picking at your gloves that you held in hand, Rhaenyra could see the determination in your eyes that reflected her youth. “Do you promise to–” “I would get back at once if I deem the situation inoperative.” Shutting down her doubts, Rhaenyra swallowed thickly. 

“Sister, you do realize what you might face?” Jacaerys then comes walking around the table to stop by you, his brown eyes scanning you as if searching for an ounce of hesitation that he couldn’t find even if he tried. You saw and knew what that look meant, both of your minds running over the memory of Lucerys, and you could not blame him so. 

 “Trust me brother, no harm shall come to me.” You replied, meeting your brother’s gaze, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving a squeeze which Jacaerys only sucked in a breath, his hand gliding to the hilt of his sword again, a habit he acquired when he thought deeply. He bowed his head, free hand placing itself on top of yours on his shoulder, squeezing tightly. “You promise.” He said. 

Rhaenyra saw the interaction between her two oldest children and her chest panged, two of her oldest children forced to fight for their birthright and for her, their mother. “Then it is done, (Y/N), you shall seek Seasmoke and find its rider at once.” Rhaenyra voiced, though anyone heard the lace of care in her tone. 

You looked up and nodded, feeling emboldened by the task given. Looking out the window, the sun was still high and up, and there was no more time to waste. 

Taking a bow, you took in a breath. “I shall see to it, your grace.” You said before bowing and turning on your heel to prepare. 

Once being donned in layers fit for dragonback, you quickly rushed to the hallway leading to the inside of the dragonmont, the atmosphere heating as well as the sight and smell of smoke filled your senses. 

At once, the dragonkeepers had already called upon your dragon, screeching at once as it sensed your presence. Approaching the magnificent creature, you breathed in as you placed your palm against its snout. “Lykirī (be calm), Naerax.” You hummed. The dragon crooned and you looked it in the eye. “Ready for another adventure?” You grinned, before hopping and strapping yourself onto the saddle. 

Breathing in, you nodded and tugged on your saddle, sending Naerax screeching before spreading its wings and taking flight, easily gliding out the mountains and out into the skies, Dragonstone shrinking from view.

It had been a while of flying, keeping your eyes peeled as you finally were able to make out the forms of Spicetown and the beaches scattered upon it, diving lower, you tried to find a sign of Seasmoke somehow, the silver-grey dragon seemed to be nowhere in sight. 

Until you had rounded into a particular patch of land, sands white and unoccupied, except for what you had been looking for. 

And there surely was Seasmoke upon the ground, a silhouette of a person standing in front of it. Naerax’s cries only further confirmed your thoughts and was enough to echo in the sky, Seasmoke screeching in turn as you quickly manoeuvred, circling the area before diving down onto the beach a good few yards away from Seasmoke and his new rider. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, never really having a plan once you’ve found them, but you steeled yourself, quickly sliding off the saddle and letting your feet touch the sandy ground after a while of patrolling the skies. 

Standing there, you couldn’t really make out the appearance of the rider but you had guessed it was a man, possibly residing from Driftmark. 

The two of you stood in utter silence, only both your dragons roaring at each other, until he had the gall to walk forward, Seasmoke following in tow as you turned over your mind for possibilities of how this interaction would go. 

Dragghar decided that the man had walked close enough as it sent a warning bellow, succeeding in making the man stop. This was the opportunity given to take a closer look at him, a tall young man by your age from the looks of things, having a skin of deep umber, face contorted to an apprehensive expression. 

After another beat of silence, you began. “You stand before the daughter of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms with a dragon of House Targaryen.”  You shouted, making your voice firm as you kept your gaze onto him and Seasmoke behind him. 

“I had no design upon it!” The man had shouted back, voice full and deep. You furrow your brows in turn. “What do you want?” You asked, “To learn the ways of dragonriders,” Came his reply.

You were about to counter his request when he did something you were not expecting at that time. He knelt before you, “And to serve the queen!” He followed, bowing his head down. 

It sent you stunned, blinking back as you stared at him, still wary of his quick submission as the dragons continued to grumble at one another, with a sharp intake of breath, you slowly began to walk towards him, Naerax following suit, dragging his wings across the sand as it crawled, Seasmoke bracing as he roared at the two of you. 

“You kneel so quickly, for a man who’s suddenly elevated.” You commented, gaze switching from the man to Seasmoke. “This dragon came to me, not I to him.” He responded, his gaze never wavering from yours, you had to applaud his integrity.

“I have sweated blood in service of House Velaryon,” He continued, pausing and swallowing before gesturing to himself, still knelt.

“I may appear lowborn, but I know much and more of service… and if the Gods call me to greater things, who am I to refuse them?” He finished, huffing a breath as he looked at you, willing you to believe. 

The hand that was resting on the hilt of your dagger suddenly loosened as the wariness slowly started to ebb away with the waves crashing against the shore, the air feeling suddenly cool. Your feet had made the decision to walk towards him, stopping right across from him. “Is what you say true?” You questioned as you looked down at him. “I swear it, my lady.” 

“Stand.” You said, watching as the man seemed to be flooded in relief as he slowly stood back up to his full height. Remembering your mother’s task, you straightened yourself.

“What is your parentage?” You asked, tilting your head at him, seeing his features crease before answering. “My mother was a shipwright. My father is… no one of consequence.” The last part he uttered with a tone of indifference. 

Nodding, you continued to ask. “Your ancestors, do they happen to be of House Targaryen?” 

“We’re not the sort of family to keep annals, my lady.” He responded, by now he seems much more relaxed, which meant the most since there was no ounce of hostility from both parties moving forward. “What is your name?” You asked as he answered without missing a beat. “Addam… of Hull.” So you were right in your suspicions that he resided in Driftmark. 

Seasmoke grumbled in the background as you nodded. “You have done something my mother, the Queen, had feared unimaginable, Addam… the Queen will be most glad of it.” 

Addam then turned to face Seasmoke and back at you, a small grin settling on his face as he exhaled in relief, nodding as the words sinked in, feeling somewhat gratified.

“Thank you, my lady.” “(Y/N).” You offered with a smile settling on your own lips. “(Y/N).” He repeated, never had your name sounded so pleasant before. 

With this, a playful air began to take hold as you grinned. “Think you could get him to Dragonstone, then?” You asked, jerking your head to Seasmoke who grumbled. Addam blinked for a moment, never thinking to travel that far before, much less on dragonback. “I can try.” He chuckled nervously. 

And so, you were delighted that Addam had sided with the Queen, your mother. 

Climbing back on Naerax, you watched as Addam did the same on Seasmoke, the greyish creature letting Addam take his time as you rounded Naerax, tugging on the ropes as your dragon obliged, screeching and running before spreading its wings once more, a gust of dust left as Naerax took to the skies once more. As Addam and Seasmoke made it off the ground, you gestured for him to follow.  “Sōvēs (Fly), Naerax.” You commanded, heading for Dragonstone. 

Naerax calls out once Dragonstone comes to view, making you glance to see Addam following, though he didn’t look too well at the moment, making you laugh as you gestured for him to follow and show where to land the dragon. 

After dismounting, the two of you were making your way to the castle.

Rhaenyra was pacing back and forth as Jacaerys had been gripping the pommel of his sword tightly, knuckles turning white until Baela had to talk to him to calm him down. At once, a member of the Queensgard approached and Rhaenyra snapped to look at them, face expecting the news as the knight bowed. “The princess is unharmed.” 

Rhaenyra felt the tensions seep away from her veins as she sighed in relief, also with Jacaerys letting out a breath while Baela was glad of the news. “What of the rider? Do we know who he is?” Came Corlys Velaryon’s questions. 

“He appears to be a shipwright in your employ, Lord Hand.” Answered by Maester Gerardys. “A commoner? With respect to your workers, Lord Corlys, the lowborn cannot go around seizing dragons. Has the thief been secured?” Lord Baltimos conveyed. Rhaenyra’s brows furrowed and she was about to speak when in came (Y/N) Targaryen with Addam of Hull, immediately turning heads as they stopped inside the hall. 

“He is no thief, Lord Baltimos.” You spoke as Addam stood beside you, Rhaenyra then watched closely the man who Seasmoke now claimed as his rider. “Seasmoke had come to him and chose him as its rider, and I am sure no one in their right mind would face a dragon so willingly.” You defended. Glancing beside Addam, you nodded for him to speak.

 “Your grace, I am Addam, of Hull…” he began,swallowing as he ignored eyes on him and solely focused on Rhaenyra, bowing, “I realize a great power had been given to me, and I may know nothing of what awaits me from this day forth, but I stand here now to swear on my allegiance and with the belief that the Gods steered me to this path, to serve you, my Queen.” He voiced firmly, never wavering. 

Rhaenyra looked at him then at you, knowing that she trusts her daughter with her own calls, and if her daughter deemed him enough to come and lay bare here on Dragonstone, with his words so sincere and determined, Rhaenyra took a deep breath. “Very well, Addam of Hull.” She began. “He is here to remain as a guest, so as to be instructed in the art of dragonriding, teach him some High Valyrian.” Rhaenyra voiced. “With the help of maester Gerardys and the princess.” You blinked but nodded. “Of course, your grace.”

Thus, as the days blended, Rhaenyra had monitored Addam’s progress, further fueling her idea just might work as she spent relearning countless Targaryen lineages whilst Jacaerys seemed to resent the whole idea of other people who had the chance of dragonseed to simply up and claim a dragon, after having suffered to be proclaimed to be a bastard his whole life, but war was brewing and he as many others knew, needed the additional resources if they wanted the chance to bring down the Greens. 

With you, you had taken your time with Addam, often alternating with maester Gerardys to teach him, often bearing witness to his fails and successes when you stayed behind and watched, thus this allowed a small bond to be formed between the two of you. 

Now, you were with Addam again, at one of the many balconies in Dragonstone.

“Repeat after me, ‘rȳbās’, it means listen.” You explained, accentuating your High Valyrian as Addam looked at you with a hint of a fond gaze as he cleared his throat, repeating the command as best as he could. “That’s good.” You praised, smiling.

“A little more firmness to it might do good, but you’re a fast learner.” You added. 

“Must be because I have an impressive guide, won’t you say so?” He grinned boyishly, making you roll your eyes. “You did not say that the last time you slipped on Seasmoke’s saddle and almost smacked to the ground.” You teased with a light shrug as you flipped the pages on the tome.

“No, no, my boot got caught on the ropes!” He defended lightly, making you both laugh. “Something really bad could’ve happened to me, have you not thought of that?” He jested, face souring in mock hurt making you nod and play along. “Oh yes, I have, but your squeals proved far more entertaining.” 

Rhaenyra had been observing the interaction without the pair’s knowledge, finding it almost special as Addam had proved himself to be a man of integrity indeed and was quick to learn through his efforts, but now her daughter had a different certain glow to her as the days passed as Addam resided here in Dragonstone, and the two had only gone closer it seemed. 

Even as the threat of war loomed, here there were still the chances of finding light in unexpected circumstances. 

[bumblesimagines]

Blood of The Dragon

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Still reeling from the death of Lucerys Velaryon and the failed assassination attempt that resulted in the death of Jaehaerys, Aemond seeks out his closest kin.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical HOTD warnings, spoilers for S2, brief Targcest (Older Brother-Younger Brother), (Y/N) is the twin of Helaena, mentions of the deaths of children (Luke and Jaehaerys), blatant manipulation but Aemond is touch-starved so, potentially ooc Aemond im still figuring out how to write him, kinda short

WFMF may take a bit to come out y'all! I'm waiting to get my hands on the book again so I can finally decide if/what I'll change from the show and what I'll keep.

~~~

Aemond scarcely paid the Small Council meeting any heed, his gaze shifting between staring at his brother's exhausted, dead-eyed expression and studying the golden coin pinched between his thumb and index finger. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the design etched into the coin and felt a strike of dread squeeze around his throat. The coin continuously served as a reminder of how close Daemon's vermin had been to stealing the air from his lungs, and how cruelly they'd taken his little nephew's head instead. 

Aegon looked ruined, his anger and grief coaxing him into sinking further and further into his cups until he could no longer comprehend the words fleeing his mouth. Aemond found it pathetic most days, for the 'rightful' heir to be a whiny drunk, but now he found it in himself to be sympathetic toward him. Aemond knew little of losing a child but the death of an innocent child he watched grow up still struck pain in his gut. He never expected their older half-sister to be so cruel. 

With the meeting ending swiftly after reaching nothing new or useful, Aemond retreated from the room in long strides that took him down the many halls of the Keep. His thoughts continued in circles, reminding him of young Luke and the horror that'd washed over him when he watched Vhagar snap her jaws around him and his dragon. The younger dragon had fallen to bloody bits from the sky and into the vast ocean below, washing up on a beach or so he'd heard. He hadn't desired such an outcome but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears when everyone whispered 'Kinslayer' behind his back. 

Before he knew it, his legs had taken him to his older sister's room and he entered with some hesistance, unsure of what he could possibly say or do that'd ease the pain of losing a child. He immediately spotted Helaena seated on the floor with her skirt spread around her and her hands occupied with finishing an embroidery. Her fingers moved automatically, muscle memory from all the times she'd spent doing needlework. Her pale eyes remained distant, however, and red from constant weeping. Aemond always knew Helaena to be the most sensitive out of all his children but he'd never seen her cry before. 

"Aemond," Helaena's twin, (Y/N), greeted him, his head tilted downwards from his spot on the couch as he brushed out the knots in Helaena's hair until her silver hair was smooth and detangled enough to braid. He set the brush aside and began braiding, a process he'd long become acquainted with when young Helaena refused to be touched by the maids. "Do you require something?"

"I wished to see how our sister was doing," Aemond replied and clasped his hands behind his back, grimacing when his words brought no reaction out of their sister. She'd always been a girl of little words but she never failed to at least offer acknowledgment with short words or glances. Helaena merely continued to thread her needle through the fabric.

"She is tired, Aemond. We all are." (Y/N) spoke, finishing the braid and letting it rest along Helaena's back. He leaned forward and pressed a fleeting kiss to the top of her head, his hands sliding down to cup her elbows and help her rise onto her swaying feet. Aemond made no move to offer his help, for he knew it'd be rejected whilst Helaena remained in such a state. 

Aemond lowered his gaze to the floor and stepped aside, his head bowed as (Y/N) led Helaena to her bed and helped tug the covers up to her waist. He offered quiet words of comfort before peeling himself from the edge of the bed and approaching Aemond, casting him a brief glance as the two stepped outside.

(Y/N) lingered until the doors to her bedchambers shut and the guards resumed their positions, his arms folding over his chest and face unreadable, as was typical of his brother. The twins had always been an unpredictable sort, no one ever truly deciphering what went through their minds. Aemond found it troubling at times, being unable to read him as he did Aegon, but he trusted him regardless. 

"Where was Cole, I wonder." (Y/N) simply said, his feet moving and voice devoid of everything but a flicker of annoyance that tugged Aemond's attention toward him. The one-eyed prince caught up with his older brother in quick strides, the direction they headed in being toward (Y/N)'s own chambers.

"He claimed to be abed." (Y/N)'s lips pressed into a line at his response. Aemond's brow twitched upward. "Cole is-"

"Cole is but a child surrounded by toys yet desires the prettiest one, one that belongs to another and should never be allowed into his foolish hands." His brother looked him directly in the eye when the doors to his chambers were opened for him, violet eyes as cold as ever. "He is pathetic."

Aemond swiped his tongue over his dry lips and followed his brother inside the room, his fingers tightening around his wrist. "Do you speak of Ser Criston... or me, dear brother?" He asked once the doors shut, leaving them in the silence of (Y/N)'s bedchambers, the air as chilly as the attitude of the older Targaryen. (Y/N) scoffed quietly and poured himself tea that'd no doubt gone tepid in his absence. "Have I not served our King faithfully enough?"

The prettily decorated teapot clattered against the wood of the table it'd sat upon, (Y/N)'s head raising to stare at Aemond. "Ao tymptan Jaes se vēttan aōla iā mittys." Aemond could hear the anger in his tone, barely contained but somehow pushed back to slowly drip through. "The boy you needlessly slaughtered was no Velaryon but he was our sister's child. Īlva ānogar. They killed Jaehaerys to avenge that child, Aemond. Helaena paid the consequences of your actions."

"Would you have preferred they kill me instead, then?" Aemond bristled.

"I would have preferred hearing of your success at Storm's End and how the princeling returned to Dragonstone without an alliance." (Y/N) snapped back, curling his fingers around his teacup and sipping from its contents. Aemond inhaled deeply, his jaw clenching and unclenching; teeth slowly grinding together and the tension in his shoulders easing into a sag. 

Aemond walked forward, his hand lifting to tug the eyepatch from his face and letting it fall onto the table as he took a seat. (Y/N) followed his movements with keen eyes and a deep frown, one of the few times his brother so outwardly showed his disapproval toward him. They stared at each other for a few quiet moments, the coin searing a hole through Aemond's pocket. 

"I only meant to frighten him. I did not wish such harm upon him; I did not want him dead or gravelly injured. I... feel sorry for how things occurred between him and I. I did not... I did not mean to bring pain upon Helaena or Aegon." Aemond leaned forward, broad hands pressing into the back of (Y/N)'s thighs to pull him closer gently whilst his forehead rested along his lower stomach. He exhaled softly when (Y/N) placed his palm upon the back of Aemond's head, fingers running through his hair. "I allowed foolish emotions to best me." 

"Foolish emotions you've stewed in for years, Aemond. You are man-grown and a prince... a third-born son who will never sit the throne." His nostrils flared with a sharp inhale of air and he leaned away, back pressing into the chair and lips pressing tightly together. (Y/N) watched him, palm pressing back the strands that went astray with his movements before he curled his fingers around Aemond's chin and forced him to keep his head tilted upwards. "I am the King's heir, now that they've killed our poor nephew, just as you killed the other. Aegon had potential, Aemond, whether you believe it or not." 

"He is a drunk-"

"Yes, but he pleased the smallfolk before sinking into his cups. They were happy and eager to accept him as their ruler. He will now ignore them, and with the ever-impulsive Cole at his side... it will not be long before we are ruined by one or the other, Aemond." (Y/N)'s thumb delicately stroked along his cheek, his eyes softening but the coldness tittering at the edges. Aemond leaned into his touch, his knitted brows easing as he soaked in the words of his brother.

"Aegon cannot rule, and neither can Cole," Aemond murmured, pressing himself further into (Y/N)'s hand when his brother gave a nod. "What is it you believe we must do?"

"Rook's Nest. Our sister will not be allowed to turn her cheek away when Cole and Uncle's army descends upon it, and neither will Aegon. He desires to prove himself, you've seen it. He'll try to in battle... and when he does, he must.. fall to injury. Vhagar knows the taste of war, and with you as her rider, Cole will have no choice but to ignore whatever it is you do. The Council will favor me over Mother as regent whilst Aegon recovers."

"And what will you do once you are named Prince Regent?" 

(Y/N)'s lips curled upward and he bent down, both hands cupping Aemond's face to press their lips together. The action caught him by surprise, but the twinge of longing for a loving hand shot through his veins. The teachings from the septas and maesters told him it was wrong, but Targaryens were no ordinary men; the blood of the dragon coursed through them. Aemond pushed into him, rising from his chair to encircle his arms around (Y/N)'s waist. (Y/N)'s grip tightened and he forced Aemond to lean back.

"You... will be named Hand." (Y/N) told him, and Aemond's shoulders straightened, his single violet eye gleaming. He'd always be meant for such a position, and as much as Cole had been a father to him, he was still the mere son of a steward; someone hardly meant for the position of Hand.

(Y/N)'s grip loosened into a gentle touch, coaxing Aemond to lean into it once more. "I will not risk the fall of this family, Aemond, not like this. Enough of our sacred blood has been spilled. I will do what our mother and brother and grandsire failed to do. If Rhaenyra has withheld as much as she has in search of peace, I will test how desperate she is to obtain it."

[604to647]

Photocopies

2.2K / Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: You catch Javi off guard in the embassy photocopy room.

Warnings: Angst (sorry!), longing, some hurt (no comfort). Previous relationship, mention of past infidelity (or is it??). Mainly Javi's POV. Nicknames as usual (Pretty bird, baby).

A/N: This is a direct follow-up to Birthday Present, taking place S1/S2 Narcos, ~2 months after reader’s birthday; I don't think you need to read it but it gives some context. I'm sorry, there is no HEA for these two dummies yet, this is just another little one shot (not quite ready to commit to writing another long series!), but I hope those of you who remember them from Birthday Present will still enjoy seeing them again 🥹🥰

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Tagging @milla-frenchy who knows why 🥹😘

Mierda. 

Javier can see the consecutive flashes of the photocopier’s green scan light accompanied by the hum of the machine in repetitive use as he walks down the hall towards the U.S. Embassy’s main floor copier room.  It sounds like whoever’s occupying the photocopier is in the middle of a big job – he sighs with an air of unjustified frustration.  Such would be his luck when he’s already running late for his meeting with the CIA attaché. 

He rounds into the room chest first, ready to barrel over whichever unfortunate intern stands, however unintentionally, between DEA Agent Javier Pena and something he needs to hopefully get ahead of Escobar, when he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

It’s you.  You, with a thoughtful look on your face as you adorably chew your bottom lip while counting the sheets in your hand, surrounded by neat piles of paper covering every available flat surface in the copier room.

Mierda. 

Still preoccupied by your collating project, you haven’t looked up to notice that you’re no longer alone in the small, stifling room – out of consideration or cowardice, but most likely both, Javier loathes to disturb you.  He hasn’t spoken to you in nearly four months - he’ll be damned if the first time he does so causes you inconvenience.  He’s already done so much worse to you. 

Fuck it - those spooks can make do with one copy of his Satellite Repositioning request.  If the CIA needs a second copy so badly, let them come down and make it themselves, he convinces himself.  Javier steps back silently, slowly backing out of the room. 

“How many copies do you need?”

Stunned by the sweet lilt of your voice, Javier remains motionless.  He suspects that you don’t know it’s him, but rather you had felt another person’s presence in the room and your considerate nature simply offered what you intuitively knew was needed.  But to his surprise, your eyes meet his directly when he looks up; he searches them for any sign of distaste or distain now that you recognize him as your intruder, but sees nothing except sincerity.  Your hand is already outstretched, waiting for his form.

He should leave.  Say he changed his mind about needing copies.  Say he got lost in this building that he’s worked in for years.  Say something.

“Don’t want to interrupt you.  I’ll come back.”

You throw an easy, encouraging smile his way and wave your still reaching hand dismissively in graceful sweeps that only serve to remind Javier of how effortlessly charming you are; your voice an enchanting song with its lightness, “I’m going to be forever.  Come on, gimme.”  You wiggle your fingers playfully, beckoning Javier to give over his paper - not knowing you also call for his heart with this enticing gesture.

He can refuse you nothing, though you could never know that, and hands over his single sheet readily, “Just one please.”

You take his form and titter to yourself as you diligently set aside the stack you were organizing, careful not to lose your place before laying his paper face down on the glass to copy, “I’ll make you two, just in case.”

Though the sound of the copy machine whirling to life fills the room, the silence between the two people in it somehow rings louder.  Javier looks around awkwardly, his eyes taking in the goliath of paperwork that you were in the middle of taming – should he apologize for interrupting?  No, it would likely ring hollow to your ears; he’s committed worse transgressions for which he still owes you an apology.  But the lump in his throat compels him to engage you; he’s a man starved, ready to beg for any meager scraps of attention you’re willing to throw his way.

“I thought you had a secretary to do all this admin for you – is Renee away?”

You laugh and the sound chimes in Javier’s ear like a chorus of cathedral bells; he never thought he’d have the honour of drawing such music from you again.  “No, she’s here.  But when it’s big booklets for interdepartmental meetings, I just like to do it myself.”

Right - Javier knows this about you.  You take such prodigious care with everything, of everyone.  Any fool at the embassy, and there were many, could see you’re a powerhouse, work ethic and dedication unmatched, and completely deserving of the respect and praise you reap – he’s always been proud of you.

Handing him his two copies and original, you toss Javier another soft smile before turning back to your task.  Whatever this interlude was, whatever grace granted him a few moments of cordiality with you is gone now, and Javier takes the papers from you with a genuine, but melancholy, “Thanks.”  He heads out of the room, feeling somehow happier and yet just as lost as he has been these past few months.

“Javi?”

He’s stopped again, this time not just by your melodic voice, but the song of his shortened name on your lips – his own heart longs to sing back a response in duet.  Turning, he finds you already looking at him, the irises of your knowing eyes swirling with tenderness, 

“Thank you for my birthday present.”

How did you know?  Javier had been so confident in the stealth of his actions, he’s silence by the revelation that you know he left a gift on your desk two months ago.

“I wear them all the time,” you turn your elegant neck slightly to show Javi the silver hair clips, each adorned with a small, delicate bird, tucked prettily behind your ear.

He manages to choke out a confession, “I know.” 

He does know.  Like a lovesick magpie, Javi’s heart would leap every time he caught the flash of silver in your hair at the embassy: during the meetings you expertly lead that he had the privilege of attending, via quick glimpses of you as you hurried towards the breakroom with your colleagues for a much-needed cup of coffee, when he stole longing glances at you from the DEA’s offices down the hall from the windows that ran alongside your desk in Treasury.  Each time you wore them, it gave Javi a surge a pride (and some relief) to know that amidst all the pain he had caused, he could still bring you some joy.

You’re looking at him now, eyes shiny and full of emotion, “I love them – they’re so beautiful.  Thank you for having thought of me.”

Javi’s body carries him across the small room and into your waiting arms of its own accord. All the strength he strains to wield on a daily basis in order to stay away from you evaporating under that tender gaze he thought had been forever lost to him.

He holds you close but not too tight, unable to tear his eyes from the sweetness of your expression.  How could you still look at him with anything other than disappointment, hate?  Despite what he did, you remain good.  Kind.  Feeling.  You wash over him like an inevitable wave and Javi wants more than anything to drown in you again.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Baby.

Drinking in his soft utterance of the endearment, you earnestly study the man who was once yours.  Javi looks apprehensive and guarded, like he can’t quite settle into the tenderness of this moment – expecting at any second for you to shove him away, curse him.  Your heart aches to witness his anxiety – he’s still the man you knew, believed in: one whose bravado and tough exterior harbours a sensitive and deeply feeling heart, one who never thinks he deserves good things even when he extends himself for the sake of others.  You take Javi’s face into your hands, feeling the flex of his strong jaw beneath your palms as he inhales and swallows deeply at the loving gesture, still convinced this unexpected peace will be ripped from him.

“Do you miss me, Javi?”

How can he possibly answer but truthfully? Even if you weren’t looking at him so tenderly and with such vulnerability, Javi’s never been able to hide from you, lie to you. Insinuate falsities, yes. Mislead, perhaps. But outright lying? Never. How could the moon ever lie to the sun?

“Yes, pretty bird. Every day,” Javi closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours, sealing in the truth of his words.

He’s being selfish.  It’s selfish to want to pull out the knife that’s lodged permanently in his chest; the one he placed there himself when he broke your heart, to stab and remind him with every breath he takes of what he’s lost.  What he’s broken.

If he could remove the blade for even a moment, then for that moment he can be your Javi again.  The one you trusted to take care of your heart.  The one who was ever grateful that an angel like you saw something in him, something he thought had long been snuffed out by the savagery of the Columbian sicarios and the cruelty of Escobar.  The Javi you had patiently nurtured back to life with your compassion and gentle touch.  The one whose vow of love you never questioned; he hadn't thought himself capable of such devotion, but you had easily unlocked it from within him with your own.

Selfishness wins today.  Javi removes the knife and lets himself be that man again with a tentative press of his lips to yours.  Immediately, he’s overtaken by the honey of your kiss – every brush of your pretty pout reminds him of all his favourite kisses with you: soft, secret kisses in hidden corners at the office; hard and heavy make outs outside the embassy walls away from prying eyes; tender kisses of promises intended to be kept while on dates or just laying in bed; possessive, dangerous kisses used to muffle moans of pleasure not meant for the ears of any other; hungry and urgent kisses heralding toe-curling, earthshattering orgasms; and sweet kisses of affirmation after every declaration of I love you.

Javi kisses you to make up for every single kiss he’s missed since he kissed you last.  He kisses you like he has the forever with you he threw away so cruelly all those month ago.  He tightens his arms around you as you melt into his kiss, momentarily forgetting how to let you go again.  Your soft whimper of surrender into his mouth jolts him back to reality.  He doesn’t have forever with you.  You aren’t his, and you shouldn’t be his.  He’s been warned.

It’s time to put the knife back in and Javier knows it won’t just be his own heart he wounds when he does so.

“Baby, we can’t.”

“Javi…” The way you say his name now has none of the harmony that invited him in earlier; this is a plea.

“Pretty bird, I’m no good for you.  Look at you – you’re perfect and you have everything going for you.  Everything you are is beyond my wildest dreams – you’re destined for the kind of future that has no place in it for a guy like me.  You deserve someone who can give you the best things in life.  You deserve someone better than me.”

You’re shaking your head, ready to argue and Javier thinks, no – he knows you would prevail.  He’s come over to your side of every argument the two of you ever had - won over by your intelligence, your passion, or simply for the joy it brought him to give you anything you wanted.  He has to put a stop to this before your eloquence and kindness can disarm him, so he pushes the knife in further, “You deserve someone who can be loyal to you.”

Javier can physically feel the flow of air that rushes in to fill the space created between the two of you as you shrink away from him.

It’s as if he can see the cinema in your eyes replaying that horrible scene from four months earlier when you caught him bare chested and pants unbuttoned, with a half naked Vanessa on his couch.  And just like that, the ache of his betrayal is renewed and your hurt rolls off your frame in lines so thick Javier thinks he might be able to pluck them out of the air with his fingers.

He twists the knife, even though it kills him to do so, “I never got the chance to apologize for that. I’m sorry.”

You nod, otherwise unmoving - stilled by that old pain you thought you had buried dead threating to crawl up your tightening throat.

Javi’s shoulders hunch, drooping with a defeat of his own making, “Thank you for the copies.”

“You’re welcome, Agent.”

Agent.

And just like that he’s Agent again.  Not baby, Javi, or even Javier.  Just Agent.

This third time he goes to leave the copier room you don’t stop him and Javier is thankful; unable to trust himself should he look back at you, he doesn’t – Agent Pena sets his face to a grim scowl and stalks down the hallway away from the best thing that ever happened to him.  Grateful that you had the forethought to give him an extra copy of his form, Javier discards the top sheet before going into his meeting – it’s completely unusable: the words on the page blotted and blurred from tears he didn’t have the strength to prevent from falling, the ruined, damp paper evidence of his failures.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

An old feeling (and obsession) | In-oh x Fem!Player!Reader | PT2

PT1

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Canon violence - May be OOC - Obsess In-ho - Player 095 lives!! - Anxiety - Sad!Reader -

Notes: Welcome to PT2 if you come from PT1. I decided to divide this piece since I think the ending of PT1 was good but I also wanted to add this too. However I was not 100% in with how things were going in PT1.

This can be read as a stand alone piece.

In-ho wondered once more when his plan went south. His main goal was to destroy Gi-hun and show him how human nature never changes. He was not prepared to meet you, and for you to become so important to him in such a short period of time.

He did wonder if you had a secret on you, just a few hours you were still suffering from the Migle game but now here you were besides him shooting with rage at the guards, his guards.

Fuck did he feel conflicted cause each guard that you managed to kill did made him feel proud of you. Even if you were leaving him short-staffed alongside player 120.

"In-ho you copy?" Gi-hun's voice came from the radio. He took it out and responded then listened to the shoots and his ask for backup.

"Alright im going" In-ho responded screaming to the rest that Gi-hun needed backup, two players were quick to accept.

He took notice on how you stopped, you were still scared but then you also nodded

"Im going too"

"Alright, I will be going first you three follow me" He said then whispered to you since you were closer "Dont put yourself in front unless I say so"

The four of you advanced around the corridors he knew so well but had to fake he did not.

Finally they crossed paths with Gi-hun and Jung-Bae.

"I think we can go around them" In-ho lied to Gi-hun who accepted and gave him a extra charger.

In-ho guided all of you, making you stop or advance, making sure you were safe away from any suprised shoot.

Finally the four of you stood behind the guards, In-ho moved his head signaling the three of you to advance but you had to stay besides him.

He knew what he had to do, but did hurt him deeply, he could just wait that you wont hate him too much.

The shoots sounded so close to you that took you off guard, then you saw In-ho pointing his riffle at you, his face void from any emotion.

"In-ho..."

"Im sorry (Y/N)" Was the last thing you hear then you felt the back of the riffle on your head knocking you out.

He held you so you wouldn't hit the floor, he took the radio to make Gi-hun think all of you were indeed dead then changed channels and told his guards to put a end to this.

Near him a door opened, guards coming from it one of them saw your body and went to shoot you only to be stopped by In-ho stern voice.

"Take her to the infarmary, no one touches her, if I see even one hair out of place you will be responding directly to me, do you understand?"

The guard lowered their gun and nodded going to carry you.

In-ho saw your limp body be moved towards the infarmary, he knew no one would question his orders. He was more afraid of the outcome once you wake up.

"Sir" another guard called him with his clothes of Front Man at hand. He let out a breath, whatever the outcome was it would have to wait.

He still needed to punish Gi-hun and move on with the games.

But one thing was clear in his mind.

No one would hurt you, you were going to be safe.

Safe besides him.