#it didn’t turn out exactly as i wanted due to deadlines

[spaceknifes]

i always forget to post this here but i was given the opportunity to participate in a fanartbook that was personally given to tabata and this was my piece! if you wanna see the other pieces you can check them in the #TabataFanArtBook tag on twitter :)

[xiaosorbet]

you try to get kaveh to stop working so hard, only to find that he’s not exactly doing work. (kaveh x reader)

1.5k words, no warnings, fluff, reader and kaveh are roommates, written with kind of a college au in mind but nothing specific is mentioned, gender neutral reader

“don’t you need sleep?”

your voice resonated throughout the small bedroom, accompanied only by the scratchy sounds of pencil against paper. your roommate kaveh sat at his desk, focused on some assignment of his.

“no.” his tone was blunt and sure, leaving little room for debate, although the eyebags settling below his tired ruby eyes begged to differ.

you rolled your eyes from your place on his bed. you should’ve expected that answer.

he didn’t look up from his work at all. he was encased in his own little world with his work - although trapped seemed a more fitting word. he spent countless nights just like this: working on a project last minute either because he had scrapped his previous work on the grounds of it being imperfect (to you, everything he came up with seemed fine. amazing, even), or because his inspiration had conveniently only chosen to appear right before a deadline.

a helpless sigh left your lips. you continued to lie on your stomach, watching him with your chin on your palms. he was obviously tired. it seemed the more tired he was, the more stubborn he chose to be about not taking a break.

it was always hard to get through to him on nights like these. bribery, trickery, words of persuasion… none of them worked. each time you tried to coerce him away from his work, seeing him grow more fatigued by the minute, his determination and complete and utter stubbornness won out.

your concern for his wellbeing as his roommate and friend was always clouded by his desire to not only meet expectations, but exceed them and constantly deliver perfection even at the expense of his own health.

but tonight, you would have none of that.

“when is that even due?” you asked him, once more trying to get his attention. if it wasn’t extremely urgent, then you wanted him to get the rest he so sorely deserved, even if he didn’t agree.

a pause. you saw his eyes dart to the side, away from you. “…around this time tomorrow.” he said it haltingly, as if he was a little unsure.

you raised your eyebrow. “will you be busy the whole day tomorrow?”

“well, no… but this is really important. it needs to be perfect,” he turned to you then, resting his cheek on his knuckle. he blew out a small exasperated breath, like a frustrated child would.

and here he was once more trying to justify his simply ungodly working hours with the fact that it needed to be the best. in your ever-changing lives, that was one constant you wished he would break.

feeling somewhat fed-up with his uncompromising will to work himself to death, exhaustion clear as day on his face, you stood up and approached the desk. “let me see it.” you were sure that whatever was on the paper was more than good enough already. he was always too hard on himself.

as you moved closer to his workspace, he sprung into sudden alertness, the hand where his face had been resting moved away, and he covered whatever he had been sketching with both his forearms. you furrowed your brows in clear confusion. he had a sort of deer-in-headlights look on his face.

“kaveh?”

you stared at him, waiting for an explanation. he remained still, arms not budging, eyes looking everywhere but at you.

“come on, i’m sure it’s already amazing. and even if it isn’t, you still have the whole day tomorrow to work on it. you clearly need some rest.”

“but i-” he began. his arms moved towards himself, pulling the scattered bits of paper closer to him, farther from you. you didn’t let him finish speaking.

“tut! no buts. show me.” his behavior wasn’t too unusual; sometimes he’d refrain from showing people the rougher, less coherent of his ideas. but you didn’t care whether it was fully fleshed out and polished or just the messy beginnings of a concept. everything he spun with his mind and fingers seemed to capture you. nothing he did was imperfect to you.

you wished he’d see that, especially during times like this. “i’m sure it’s already amazing, just like everything else you draw.”

“that... that’s not… i…” he stumbled over his words as a faint blush, soft and pink as a flower petal bloomed on his cheeks.

taking advantage of his momentary discomposure, you quickly leaned in and seized a piece of paper from underneath his arms, ready to shower his work with compliments in hopes of convincing him to take a break from pressuring himself so much.

rather than the scribbled words and architectural sketches you were expecting to see, your eyes were met with none other than yourself.

rough sketches of you from the neck up, drawn from different perspectives, this angle and that. all in kaveh’s unmistakable style. you’d know it anywhere, the quick strokes that seemed to move faster than his own train of thought, like his hands knew exactly what to do. except you had never seen it like this, lines moving and curving into each other to form a portrait of a person—of you.

you were speechless. the drawings were beautiful. artful, even. for one thing, you were stunned because you didn’t know he was capable of something like this. and for another, the subject of the art in question was you.

in the time you took to stare at his drawings, kaveh had stood up and watched you silently, waiting for you to say something. you’d expected him to jump up and grab the paper immediately, but it seemed that despite his initial adamance in not letting you see it, he now wanted to see your reaction.

a flurry of emotions flutter around in your chest. mostly bewilderment; the fact that he drew you… and so… beautifully… was this how he saw you? was this really how you appeared to him?

“kaveh… did you do these?” you knew it was stupid to ask, but you wanted him to confirm it nonetheless. when you turned to look at him, he immediately averted his gaze.

“yeah, i did.” his voice was quiet and shy, so unlike the usual confidence he had when talking about his works. he seemed now like a child bracing for judgment.

you tried to move into his line of sight. you wanted him to look at you, to see how you felt about it. to see the astonishment and amazement in your eyes when you spoke. “i love it. why did you try to hide it?”

finally, he met your eyes in earnest. his face reddened once more. his usual loud and bright demeanor was replaced by something softer, more fragile. “isn’t it obvious?”

you shook your head, but it seemed that your body was aware of something your mind hadn’t caught on to yet, a warm flush creeping up your neck and your cheeks. he stepped towards you and held onto one end of the paper. you unwittingly breathed in his scent. you encounter it every single day, every time you pass by him, every time you do the laundry. but in that moment, the smell of him suddenly felt much more intimate.

“look, it’s not finished. they’re just rough sketches.” he glanced at the paper before setting his gaze on your face, looking at you sheepishly. a bittersweet smile played on his lips. “i want to draw you to perfection. i want to capture the way i see you in all of its entirety. these don’t even come close.”

and there it was again, his ever-present perfectionism. it confused you; why would he put so much effort into drawing you?

and suddenly, the answer came as quickly your question had. kaveh’s face inched towards yours, his eyes holding desperate meaning, like he could read your mind and was trying to answer with his expression.

kaveh, he…

“it’s already perfect,” you mumbled. you found yourself in a trance, lost in the emotions held in his gleaming red eyes, yet still wanting to reassure him. “…everything you make is beautiful.”

“not nearly as beautiful as you.”

all of this was to get him to rest… you knew what was happening, but you couldn’t let yourself forget that he needed a break still. eyebags still sunk underneath his eyes.

and yet… while you wanted him to stop working so hard—real work or otherwise—part of you now felt that you just wanted him all to yourself.

and so what you did next was what you’d later call a stroke of genius, a master stratagem to achieve both of your goals. not only that, it was also an expression of what you couldn’t quite put into words just yet.

you leaned in and planted your lips gently against his.

despite the tiredness you knew he was harboring, you felt his lips move to form a little smile as he kissed you back. your heart fluttered in pleasant surprise. you felt kaveh’s grasp on the paper wane before he let go completely to cup the side of your face instead.

after a couple seconds of chaste kiss against smiling lips, you pulled back and he grinned at you, his face lit up with joy, all but forgetting about his earlier discontentment. you smiled back at him before reaching to place the paper back on the desk behind him.

“now… how about a break, hm?”

[sabo-has-my-heart]

This is two part again. Thanks for listening and replying to my message, that means a lots to me. Though, I'd say I prefer a certain red head karma to bite me instead of my coworkers :^) just kidding.

This is not really an emergency request but also a bit like it? I guess? It's just I've been dying of thirst for some romance due to my situation so I'm up here to request something (only if you want to write, that is)

Office workers couple of Sabo and fem!Reader. I just wanna read some fluffy moments between them. Like when y/n is working over time and he quietly put an iced coffee cup he just bought for y/n on her cheek, making her jump as he smiles warmly and sits next to her to help her with the work. Or when y/n knocks on his office door and says "I'm here to pick up Mr. *insert married last name*" and Sabo chuckles and walks to her to say "Let's go home Mrs *insert married last name*"

I don't know if this is how it works but that's my request. Feel free to skip it if you don't like the idea. Love your writing as always, have a great day!

Hi two part anon! no need to thank me for listening, and replying, I care about you 🥰. So here's some fluff, I'm sorry these things have been taking so long. It's super stressful here lately. Hoping to get some more writing done soon. It's funny because writing for you and my other beloved anons reduces my stress but I need to be less stressed to write sometimes, lol 😆.

Warnings: office romance? fluff

Word Count: 1580

     People say office romances never turn out well. Especially if you’re dating your boss. After all, your boss might give you special treatment or promotions. That being said, you and Sabo were an exception, an outlier to the statistic. The two of you had been working at the same office for years, you’d watched his promotion from working beside you to being your new boss, watched him deal with the worst of the department’s problems, and helped him celebrate some of the department’s greatest achievements. 

     Likewise, he’d been there for you as well. The year that nobody seemed to care about your birthday, the raise for finishing that ‘impossible’ project, and the one time when you snuck a kitten into the office because it was just outside the building and you didn’t have time to take it to a shelter until after work. It seemed that whenever there was something big that happened to one of you, the other was there to share in it. Of course, nobody knew about your little office romance. Neither of you wanted to risk the rumors, the scandal, or the accusations that would be sent your way. To say nothing of HR getting involved or needing to transfer departments simply due to the fact that the two of you were together. 

     It wasn’t like Sabo actually gave you special treatment at work. Quite the opposite, he treated you like every other employee, expecting nothing but your best and you were quite happy to give it your all. There’d even been a few times where he’d been forced to call you into his office because you’d messed up. Granted, when you messed up, he wasn’t nearly as hard on you as others, but it wasn’t due to giving you special treatment. Only that he could have a calm, serious conversation about what you’d messed up. Most of your coworkers had to be handled in a different manner, he wasn’t dating them, he couldn’t just say “angel, you messed up, if you needed more time, we could have canceled our date.” or “I know I tell the others to come to me if you need help, but I’m literally in the other room. You don’t exactly have an excuse not to come to me.” 

     Sabo sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. There was another big project due at the end of the month, another ‘world will end if we don’t finish this on time’ project. He hated these projects so much, hated his bosses so much for projects like this. Acting like they had sticks up their asses and not giving a damn about who suffered from the long hours forced on their employees. Always giving deadlines that were far too short for his liking. It was as if they purposefully gave a shorter than necessary deadline. He’d change that one day, he’d climb in the ranks and become high enough to change things. He’d never accept projects unless he knew they could be finished without working his employees to death and he’d fire anyone who treated their employees like shit!

     A knock on his door drew him out of his thoughts, looking up to see your head peeking in through the cracked open door.

     “Hey, You got time for a short break? I got your favorite for dinner.” you called softly, holding up a bag of food and gently shaking it. Sabo smiled and sat up in his chair, beckoning you in.

     “What are you still doing here, Dove? Shouldn’t you be at home?” he asked as you set the food on the desk.

     “How can I go home and sit around when I know you’re pushing yourself so hard to get this project done in time? You know I hate going home to an empty apartment.” you said, giving him a sympathetic smile.

     “I know, but I don’t want you to overwork yourself. You need sleep and time to relax, not spend time in an empty office, alone.” he said, reaching over his desk and caressing your cheek.

     “What, you mean like you’re always doing? Sabo, love, you’ve fallen asleep in your office 5 times in the last 2 weeks trying to get this done. You’ve missed 3 meals and eaten in your office 8 times. The sooner I help you finish this, the sooner you can relax.” you said with a small chuckle, leaning into his hand.

     “Have I really? I’m sorry, Angel. I don’t mean to be for so long. You know I prefer the comfort of our bed.” he said, running his hand through his hair again as you pulled the food out.

     “I know, that’s why I’m still here. So we can finish this sooner. Let me help, we’ll get it wrapped up faster this way. You know I’m capable of taking care of things.” you offered, handing him some food and utensils. 

     “I know, I know things would go faster if we did them together, but I don’t want your health to suffer because of this. I hate seeing you look so tired and worn out.” it was true, he’d never felt so bad as when you overworked yourself helping him with these stupid deadlines. The times you had fallen asleep on his desk late at night trying to help him. The dark circles and bags under your eyes when you’d stayed up 3 nights in a row to finish a ‘our company will go out of business if we don’t finish this’ project. And he’d never forgive himself for the time he’d passed out from overworking and given you the scare of your life. He’d woken up to the paramedics in his office as you hovered around him with tears brimming in your eyes. He’d had a talk with his bosses and HR after that one. They hadn’t given him another one of those after that. He was one of their better employees and did great work, they didn’t want to lose him. 

     “And what about your health? You know I hate seeing your health suffer too. This way we can split the work this way, that way neither of us is too overworked.” you offered, making him sigh. You were right. He knew you were right.

     “Alright, alright. Let's finish this part up then we’ll go home; and once we finish this project, we’ll take a weekend trip to get away and relax.” he offered. You nodded in agreement as the two of you started to eat. 

     It was a few weeks later that the project was finished, Sabo taking a moment to lean back in his chair and relax. The blond hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep in his chair until you were gently shaking him awake, a soft, sweet smile on your lips.

     “Dove? Did… did I fall asleep in my chair again?” Sabo asked groggily, sitting up straight and rubbing his eyes.

     “Yeah, don’t worry though, nobody really noticed. We all just thought you were working on the next thing you were given. I wanted to let you sleep, but it’s not good for you to fall asleep in your chair like this. Besides, if you fall asleep here, you’ll have a hard time falling asleep at home and I have the perfect evening all planned out for us so you can relax and enjoy yourself.” you said with a grin. Sabo looked at you and chuckled, shaking his head.

     “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I’m supposed to be doing nice things for you so you can relax?” he asked, his eyes closing as he yawned.

     “I’m not the one carrying the weight of the world at work. Besides, no one ever said I can’t do things for you as well.” 

     “You spoil me, Dove.” he said softly, pulling you close, sitting you in his lap and nuzzling his face into your neck.

     “I spoil you? Sabo, you’re always doing so much for me. This is the least I can do for you.” you said with a laugh, enjoying the way he held you so lovingly.

     “Mmm, no, pretty sure you spoil me more. Always staying late with me, getting me my favorites and making sure I don’t overwork myself. I’m just repaying the favor.” he ‘argued’, grinning mischievously. He loved playing this little ‘game’ with you. Who’s actually spoiling who and why. How you deserve everything he’s done for you and how you think he deserves the world. Always ending in sweet, loving kisses and endless ‘I love you’s. 

     “As much as you know I’d love to continue this, I promised the others I was just asking about our next project and they’ll get suspicious if I take too long.” you whispered, pouting at the idea of your sweet moment being interrupted. Sabo sighed and nodded as well, letting you go.

     “Alright, alright, but don’t work too hard. I heard from a very reliable source that you’ve got a date at a nice restaurant tonight and you don’t want to be late for that, do you?” Sabo asked teasingly.

     “You’re right, my darling husband is spoiling me again and I can’t let all of his hard work go to waste.” the both of you laughed as you reluctantly headed for the door, giving him one last longing look before returning to work. You had to admit, you really loved working with him, loved how the two of you had somehow managed to make an office romance work.

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

Skori Zaldrizes Ropagon (When Dragons Fall) [Jace Velaryon x Reader]

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

Warnings: nothing explicit, just lots of character deaths, as in F&B canon

Word Count: 10k+

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

A huge, huge, HUGE thank you to @asa-do-your-thing for the lovely artwork provided in this fic! I love both the collages you created for the teaser and the actual fic itself, and bless you for putting up with me and my slow responses 💕 this fic is dedicated to the both of us, and I hope you will enjoy it even though I was a complete hot mess struggling with writer's block when I came up with it haha. Special thanks also goes out to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for putting together this Big Bang! I'm honoured to have been a part of it.

A/N: This is the first part of my new fic, Skori Zaldrizes Ropagon, submitted for @hotd-bigbang! The rest of the parts will be released sometime soon, as I was only able to write the first part of my fic in time for the deadline haha. It's my first time writing a Jace x Reader fic, and it is rather lacking in romance, most unfortunately. Still, I hope you enjoy the fic. Thank you for supporting my mess of a writing!

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon was aged only ten and two when he heard the prophecy for the first time. 

Ever since his mother had decided to relocate their family to the ancestral seat of the Targaryens, Jace had spent much of his days with nothing but the same foreboding walls he was slowly growing tired of. He swore he knew every single crook and cranny in Dragonstone by now, having spent much of his youth traipsing through the home of his forebears, poking and exploring every inch of it. 

Dragonstone was a sleepy island, which did little to quell the young Jace’s thirst for adventure and exploration. But once every six moon turns, the inhabitants of the village located on the rocky shores of Dragonstone would come together for a festival of foods and goods. It was initially a small affair, but upon Princess Rhaenyra’s moving of her household to Dragonstone, many merchants and revellers from all parts of the Realm had flocked to the island like sheep, hoping to curry the favour of the numerous Targaryen royals currently residing at the island, or various nobles who visited the island to pay homage to their queen to be with their goods. 

And the festival was exactly where Jace found himself on the cusp of his thirteenth nameday. Sick of the constant gloomy atmosphere of the castle, he had snuck out after bribing one of the stablehands, disguising himself in the simple raiments of a peasant, along with a satchel of various coins concealed in his cloak. He had thought of bringing his dagger for protection, but he winced as he recalled the incident on Driftmark, and decided to leave it in his chambers. He wasn’t expecting any trouble tonight, anyway. All he wanted was a bit of harmless fun, and freedom, under the cloak of anonymity. Just for one night. 

The festival painted an animated and cheerful scene, so refreshing in contrast to the rather dismal air in the fortress. For a moment, Jace thought he had been transported back to the streets of King’s Landing, where the nightlife atmosphere was second to no other place in the realm. Fascination lit up his brown eyes as he bought samples of snacks from the street food vendors. Many of them were varieties of whatever fishes that could be caught in Blackwater Bay, but due to the expensive nature of imported spices from Essos, the food was seasoned rather simply. Jace enjoyed it however, the whole experience felt liberating. Here, he could just be among the commoners, someone unnoticed. 

Even though their relocation to Dragonstone after the Driftmark incident had brought some reprieve, deep down, Jace still felt tormented by the rumours of his parentage. Harwin Strong was long dead now, and so was his father, Laenor Velaryon, yet Jace still felt affected by their passings, though his mother oddly didn’t. One was his…his sire, the other the father Jace had been brought up to believe as his for his whole life, and though both men had not been present for nearly half of Jace’s life now, Jace still missed them. He remembered Laenor’s smile, his guffawing laugh, his warm touch whenever he herded them back from the Dragonpit and back to the Red keep. And he remembered Harwin’s presence - detached, as a respectful nobleman would keep in deference to a royal, but also warm and more constant than Laenor. Daemon was oft far too occupied with his mother to pay attention to him, Lucerys, and Joffrey, though he seemed polite enough to Jace. 

But what Jace craved deep down was for the presence of a fatherly figure: strong, brave, caring. And ever since his mother and Daemon have had little Aegon, Jace oft found that those fantasies of his were becoming more and more impossible to come true. Especially now, when he was coming of age soon, and was expected to bear the brunt of his duties as future Prince of Dragonstone, and heir to the Iron Throne. Little sentiment can be found in his world. 

Jace sighed, milling around and mingling with the smallfolk, trying to purge those thoughts from his head. And that was when he caught sight of it.

A caravan sat in a corner of the street, its dark red and blue exterior a stark contrast against the earthy cobblestones of its surroundings. The caravan was beautiful, even in its age, and Jace let his eyes trace over the woodwork and craftsmanship of the carvings of various celestial bodies and strange creatures on the caravan. A simple wooden sign hung outside the bright blue painted door, ‘Come have your fortune divined on this joyous day. Should you choose not to, you might not live to see the next day.’. 

Jace chuckled at the words, feeling some derision upon knowing what craft the inhabitants of the caravan possessed. He was not a faithful man, by any means. He worshipped the Seven, like any future crown prince of Westeros ought to, yet he felt no connection to those gods. His mother held a reverence for the gods of Old Valyria, and Jace had inherited that, but fortune telling? It all seemed a bit absurd to him. No one can see the future after all, He began to turn his back on the caravan. 

However, Jace was seized with a sudden urge to go inside the caravan. It felt like an invisible force was pulling him towards it, despite his disdain for such practices. What is wrong with me? I am a Targaryen prince for god’s sake- But it was like he was under a spell, as his legs moved on their own accord, much to his dismay. 

‘You know what, I came here for a night of relaxation after all. This might prove more entertaining than I expect it to be.’ 

With that thought, Jace found himself knocking tentatively on the door of the caravan, as the door swung open to reveal the dim interior of the caravan. He found it strange that there was no one behind the door, but shrugged it off, taking in the plush furnishings. Gas lamps and candles lit the small space up, giving the interior an inviting glow. Colourful tapestries depicting the sea were hung on the walls, and thick soft carpets covered the floors - such that Jace felt bad for wearing his dirtied boots into the caravan. But all those thoughts of guilt vanished from his mind as he laid his eyes on what was possibly the most beautiful woman in his life. 

She didn’t even look old enough to be considered a woman, no, this was a girl so beautiful, he thought that maybe he was looking at the form of the Maiden himself, descended upon this land to grace him with his loveliness. 

“Welcome, my prince.” Her voice was soft, nearly encasing him deeper into the spell that was her, until he realised how she had addressed him. Shock surged through his veins, along with a faint uneasiness. “You know who I am?” The fortune teller tilted her head, lowering the hood of her dark red cloak. The colour of spilled blood. “Of course. My god knows the true faces of all people who enter this caravan. And their fates as well.” She motioned for him to sit in front of her, and Jace obliged, sinking down on the cushion, unable to take his eyes off her. It felt like all coherent thoughts had left him. The fortune teller studied him back, her eyes glowing with the knowledge of endless possibilities. 

“My god senses some doubt in you of my abilities, my prince.” Jace was startled by her words, but he quickly recovered, a sheepish smile on his face. “I must confess I don’t quite believe in these things.” 

“And yet here you are.” “And yet here I am,” Jace echoed back. The fortune teller slid a cup of tea to him, and he wondered how he didn’t see her preparing it. He eyed the steaming tea, debating on whether he should drink it. 

“Relax, my prince, I have no reason to poison you, if that’s what you fear.” Jace was growing more unsettled, it seemed like the fortune teller was reading his mind. Was his thoughts really that obvious? He caved nonetheless, lifting the cup to his lips. Its taste soothed his nerves, and he felt some of his former rationality returning. “If I may ask, who is the god you owe your powers to?” 

The fortune teller shook her head with a smile, tapping the crystal ball between them lightly. “Does it matter, my prince?” “Well, it does, if you want me to have some faith in your readings.” The fortune teller looked amused. “You will believe what you want to believe, my prince. And my god prefers to withhold his true name from non-believers.”

Jace wanted to roll his eyes a little at that. It was clear this girl was a con-artist, but suddenly, her eyes grew sharp as her crystal ball filled with dark smoke. Jace drew back instinctively, nearly spilling the cup of tea. “W-what’s happening?” 

“My god is revealing your future,” the lightness in her voice was gone, replaced by a sort of seriousness. As sceptical as Jace was, his eyes were fixed on the swirling dark smoke. He was entranced by it when he suddenly felt a warm grip on his wrist. His eyes widened when the fortune teller tugged his hands towards the crystal ball, a slight flush in his cheeks. “Put your hand on the crystal,” her voice was filled with urgency. “There is something you must see.” 

Gripped by curiosity, Jace did as she said, placing his palms against the cool surface of the crystal. The curiosity vanished in an instant, replaced by a morbid horror as the scenes were seared in his mind. 

The sickening smell of blood. Fire everywhere, the distant roars of a dragon roaring and the screams of soldiers on the battlefield. Two opposing armies, one bearing a quartered banner with the Targaryen, Velaryon, and Arryn sigils, the other bearing a golden three-headed dragon on a black field, clashed with each other. Corpses littering the shores of a river. Three dragons lashing at each other in the sky, as one fell to the Earth with an agonised screech. And now Jace was in the sea, watching as ships were set aflame and a dragon that looked like Vermax falling from the skies. The sky was glowing with the colour of freshly spilled blood, smoke filling the air. Jace felt like he was on fire, as the soft, solemn words of the fortune teller reverberated throughout the horrific scene of bloodshed before him. “As dragons battle with each other, and fall from the skies, kin shall betray kin, kin shall murder kin, and Westeros shall burn alongside House Targaryen’s power.” 

Then, fire engulfed Jace as he jolted away in shock. The sound of a teacup clattering on the ground pulled Jace from the nightmare, and he was back in the caravan: far away from the smoke, the screams and the flames. He was still shaking as he recalled the searing sensation of fire on his skin, scorching his bones. The dark tendrils of smoke had seeped out of the crystal ball and were creeping up Jace’s fingers, and he hurriedly pulled away and shook his hands until the smoke had dissipated, feeling sick. “What in the Seven Hells was that?” His voice was tremulous with fear. 

The girl’s eyes were grim as she fixed her gaze on him. “The future of your family, and House Targaryen.” Now Jace was shaking with something much more than fear: anger. “You must be mistaken,” his words were not as steady as he had willed it to be, and he tried to correct the quiver in his voice. “Your god is a sham. All that was just illusions of the mind. You’re lying.” She must be.  

Now it was the girl’s turn to look incensed, and it was like the fury of a thousand sea storms crackled behind her eyes. “Do not dismiss the abilities of my god because of your fear, Prince Jacaerys. You know that war is inevitable between your mother and your uncle, and you would choose to play ignorant?” Her words struck him as he winced while recalling the scenes he had seen. Despite the cool night air flowing into the caravan through its small windows, Jace couldn’t shake off the dreadful feeling of being on fire. 

“...it just can’t be possible,” Jace murmured to himself, running his hands through his hair in distress. The scenes plagued his mind like a disease, and the smell of burning flesh was still ever present, making him nauseous. He reached out and gripped the hand of the girl desperately, “You said that there would be a war. My mother wins, right? She’s the rightful heir after all.” The girl looked troubled, “I cannot divulge more than what my god has allowed you to see.” 

“Not even if I paid you a golden dragon?” Jace pressed. The girl’s nostrils flared with indignation. “The visions granted to us by my god is something none of your paltry money can buy, my prince.” 

Jace was gripped with despair, as he tightened his grip on the girl’s hand, pleading, “Fine, forget about money. Just please, tell me if my family survives. I need to know, please.” Jace could see the girl’s eyes softening, and he tried to implore her even further. “Please, miss. I just need to know that. Your god has already been so merciful to show me so much, surely one more tiny bit of knowledge will not hurt?” 

The girl bit her lip, and looked downwards, as if contemplating. It was true that the prince’s future was bleak, and she knew of his eventual ending, but she must not go against her god’s limitations. And yet, she felt compelled to tell him the truth, to tell him of the bleak fate that awaited him. So she prayed to her god for leniency as she locked eyes with Jace again. Her voice was quiet as her reply echoed through Jace’s mind: which would prove to soon be his source of torment that plagued him for his next years. 

“No.” 

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For years, after being told the prophecy, Jace felt like he was no longer in control of himself. His sleep and dreams no longer belonged to him. Instead, they fell victim to the visions and the prophecy that had plagued every one of his senses since that night. His attempts at seeking Maester Gerardys out discreetly for doses of Essence of Nightshade had only succeeded in eliciting the alarm of his mother and brothers, so he had stopped taking them. He found no reprieve in the dreadful tea anyway. 

Instead, Jace tried to find solace in other mediums. The library at Dragonstone had essentially turned into his bedroom now, along with the yard where he and Lucerys trained at arms. He toiled through the histories of wars and conflicts, pushing himself until blotches of crimson began to dot the ancient tomes. 

He trained at arms diligently, in an almost ruthless, cutthroat manner. Lucerys had since long given up on duelling him in arms, and the knights that had trained the both of them since they were old enough to pick up a sword had pleaded with Jace on numerous occasions to exercise more leniency on his younger brother. Jace’s only response to that was, “Will leniency be afforded to you on the battlefield, Luke?” 

To Rhaenyra, Lucerys and the rest of Jace’s family who cared deeply about him, it was admirable that Jace was pushing himself so hard. He clearly wanted to prove himself worthy of the title as future heir to the throne. But Rhaenyra could see far deeper than that. She recognised a reflection of her youth in her eldest son: the constant, debilitating need to prove himself. However, Rhaenyra did not know to whom he was trying to prove to. She had told him countless times of how proud she was of him and his prowess, but it was never enough. 

Rhaenyra had not seen a genuine, happy smile grace her son’s face since his thirteenth nameday. 

Jace could see his mother’s concern, could feel the worry of his brothers, the anxiety of Baela and Rhaena. He knew his refusal to open up had caused a slow, but increasingly noticeable rift between their relations, but how could he allow his family to witness his demons? To see the darkness that had been eating away at him like a parasite since he stepped foot into that godsforsaken fortune telling caravan? 

He couldn’t. 

He wouldn’t let the darkness taint his family’s joy, no matter what. This was a burden he must endure alone. 

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The day of Vaemond Velaryon’s petition brought out Jace’s paranoia which had been slowly building up over the years, like an ugly mountain of coal, to the forefront. 

But as it always was, fate rendered Jace’s promise useless when they received word that the Greens had repudiated the succession and crowned Aegon as King of the Seven Kingdoms in sight of the smallfolk. 

Jace nearly tore himself apart in rage, agony, and horror, at both himself and at the usurpers. How could this have happened? Jace’s mind was numb as he listened to the pained screams of his mother echo through the halls of Drgaonstone. How could he have failed so utterly in his promise to defend his family? 

He felt like beating himself up even more when he failed to get Daemon to at least accompany his mother during her labours. It seemed like such a triviality to be angry at, given their circumstances, but watching his mother’s vacant-eyed stare at the corpse of his dead sister just made him want to bash his head with a rock. He felt like a complete failure: he had failed to control his temper around his uncles and to behave in the calibre which the future heir to the Iron Throne should have acted as, he had failed to foresee and prevent the Greens from usurping his mother, and he couldn’t even effectively convince his stepfather to be there for his mother. 

And his snowballing of failures had led to the continuous, ominous echoing of the prophecy in his head. The constant feeling of being burnt alive. 

But then, the Seven, or whatever capricious deity that held the strings to his miserable life, shone a beacon of light into his life again. When his mother gave him and Luke the task of going as envoys and renewing the allegiances of various lords and ladies in the Realm, Jace was determined to use this mission to make amends. He would not fail his mother no matter what, he told himself as he swooped through the clouds, Vermax rumbling under him, as though sensing his rider’s fierce determination. 

He had landed first in the Eyrie, where he had initially received a frosty reception from the Lady Jeyne. With skillful persuasion and a reminder of the lady’s own familial ties to his mother through his grandmother, and the promise to send dragonriders to the Vale, Prince Jacaerys had just successfully completed his first envoy. 

He didn’t stay for long however, flying off the next day upon a restless sleep in the Eyrie’s chambers. Time was not on his side when it came to the prophecy, and Jace dreaded to think that every single second he took to idle or dawdle would cost his family their lives. He didn’t want to see the vacant-eyed stare his mother had at his sister’s funeral mirrored in her death. 

He then flew to Sisterton, then to White Harbour, and each time, he spoke with the lords firmly, yet charmingly, persuading them to his mother’s cause with promises and betrothals and reminders of their oaths. Jace found that he might yet be a fluent speaker in the language of diplomacy. 

However, now, despite his continuous successes, Jace never felt more nervous as he and Vermax soared above the snowy expanse of the North. Enervated grunts sounded from Vermax, and Jace felt sympathetic to his dragon. He clearly does not take well to the cold. But they couldn’t stop now, not when Jace was so close to completing his mission to his mother. He couldn’t disappoint her now. 

Cregan Stark was a man with a reputation, and not necessarily a helpful one to Jace. he was known to be stern, formidable, but the Northmen were known to be men of their word, and to have never broken an oath. But the Northern lords always had little interest in Southron politics, and Jace feared that the Wolf of Winterfell might take a stance of neutrality in the conflict instead. 

However, he couldn’t turn back now, and it wasn’t like he would do it if given the choice. The prophecy lingered over his head like a dreary cloud as of late, and Jace’s nightmares had intensified in its vivid horror. Vermax let out a shuddering grunt, as if in sync to his rider’s perturb. 

I can’t fail. I won’t fail. Jace thought to himself firmly, as Vermax’s leathery wingbeats began to slow as the structure of Winterfell loomed in the distance. ‘There has to be a way to stop the prophecy’s events from coming true somehow. There must.’ 

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Jace’s initial reception at Winterfell was as chilly as the climate in the North, even with the heat from the sauna emanating from the walls. Cregan Stark had lived up to everything Jace had been fearing, a stern, formidable man of few words, and seemingly disinterested in the brewing conflict. “The North has no place in Southron politics, my Prince,” Cregan had told Jace. Jace had a feeling he was trying to convey a sort of sympathy in his words, but the man’s face was unyielding as he spoke. 

A sentiment that Cregan had expressed had given Jace a small sliver of hope, “However,” the imposing man said, clinking down his cutlery. “Tis’ true that my late father swore an oath of obeisance to your mother. And House Stark, and the North, will honour that oath no matter what.” 

Jace had attempted to seize on that to leverage Lord Cregan’s support, but the man seemed adamant not to interfere. Jace spent the next moments picking listlessly at his meal, trying to decide the next best course of action. The Northern lord seemed as unyielding as stone, much to his growing frustrations. 

“If I may say something personal, my Prince,” Cregan’s low, thoughtful voice broke the silence. Jace’s heart leaped at the voice, coming to life with the hope for negotiations again. “Please, speak freely, my Lord.” “You remind me of my late younger brother, my Prince.” Jace tried to shove down his spike of disappointment, instead feigning politeness as he asked, “I am flattered. Do you hold fond memories of him?” Cregan nodded slowly, his eyes studying Jace’s every move like a hawk. “Many of them, in fact.” “May I ask in what way do I remind your Lordship of your late brother?” Jace inquired, out of courtesy more out of genuine curiosity. 

Cregan fixed his flinty gaze on Jace, the corners crinkling a little in memory. “The burden. The feeling of all the weight of the world on your shoulders.” 

Jace didn’t quite know what to answer to that, shrinking uncomfortably into his seat as Lord Stark’s gaze penetrated through him. He suddenly felt more aware of his age than ever. 

No other words were exchanged throughout the rest of their dinner. 

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Cregan had seen men driven by many things before: greed, anger, power, but he had never met someone quite like Jace Velaryon. A strange sense of urgency enveloped his every move, like he was racing against an invisible foe better known as time. Every one of his muscles always seemed taut in tension, his eyes broody, his mind clouded with a thousand storms of struggles. 

Perhaps it was this sense of oddity that drew him to become more sympathetic to the young prince’s cause. He had noticed that the young prince had grown more dishevelled ever since their dinner in the hall where Cregan had refused to lead troops in Queen Rhaenyra’s name. He looked like a petrified animal, leg stuck in a trap. 

Over time, Cregan began to warm up to the young Prince, taking his meals with him as Jace covertly tried to persuade Cregan into contributing his troops to his cause. Cregan was amused, but remained otherwise unswayed. 

And then, the raven from Dragonstone arrived. 

Cregan didn’t see Jace for a few days after that. The guards he had assigned to the young Prince had reported him looking nigh delirious, refusing to take more than a few bites of his meals, his eyes sunken in, and the occasional sounds of weeping coming from his chambers. 

It seemed the young Prince had been truly broken. And who wouldn’t be, with the death of their younger sibling? Innocent blood spilled at war, Cregan shook his head as he reread the letter from the maester of Dragonstone. Kinslaying was a taboo among Westeros, and rightfully so. Even Cregan had been hesitant when dealing with his power-hungry uncle a few years ago, choosing to imprison him instead of carrying out the sentence meant for treason: execution. 

When a week had nearly come and gone and Cregan had not caught sight of the Prince, he began to grow worried. The letter Cregan had received had requested for the immediate return of Jacaerys to Dragonstone, but the prince seemed to have no signs of moving in his mourning. 

Cregan was startled to see the young Prince appear while he was breaking fast in his solar on the morrow. While he had sent the young Prince an invitation, as courtesy bode, the sudden appearance of Jace had him unnerved. Jace appeared detached, polite, every inch the prim and proper Prince he was. But what sent a chill through even the hardened Northman’s heart was the look in Jace’s eyes. 

They looked steely determined, yet devoid of life, like he was a soulless shell of the person he was. The Prince before him was no man, but a wraith, worn thin by his inner turmoil.  

As Cregan offered his condolences, Jace had only smiled faintly, thanking Lord Cregan emotionlessly. “I can only hope that the usurpers will be punished by the Gods for my brother’s death,” Jace’s eyes glowed with an unearthly sort of fury, Cregan noted with concern. “My brother committed no act worthy of such a gruesome death. And for the act of kinslaying, my uncle must pay with blood.” 

“Justice will prevail, my prince,” Cregan reassured Jace, his black eyes filled with certainty. But what took Cregan aback was the hard look in Jace’s dark brown eyes: it was like wildfire, blazing and ready to consume everything in its path. And what unnerved the young Lord of Winterfell even more were the next words out of the Prince’s mouth: ‘What I desire is no longer just justice, but vengeance. I will rain fire and blood upon those usurpers who have harmed my kin, mark my words.” 

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Ever since receiving the missive informing Jace of Luke’s murder over Shipbreaker’s Bay, Jace felt like all time had ceased to exist. When once he fought to race against the clock to prevent the prophecy from coming true, now it seemed like nothing mattered anymore. 

Somehow, he managed to secure an alliance with Lord Cregan, having moved the man enough for him to pledge himself wholeheartedly to his mother’s cause. Jace should have felt relieved: that the task he had set out to do was accomplished, but now, he felt naught but a gaping hole where his heart had been. 

Luke had always been his baby brother. Joffrey was his youngest brother, but he was filled with an impish sort of charm and self-assuredness. Luke had been none of those. He was always the more serious, more sensitive of the three brothers. Jace had watched his mother place his dragon egg in his cradle. The first baby Jace had ever held in his arms was Luke. His precious, lovable, younger brother. 

And now he was gone, his remains lost forever to the sea. Along with poor Arrax, and the remnants of House Baratheon’s allegiance. With Luke’s death, it was like Jace’s heart had hardened into cold, unyielding stone once more, like it did when he had feared for Luke’s disinheritance and potential punishment during Vaemond Velaryon’s punishment. 

Dragonstone was an even drearier place now. The lingering feeling of despair that had been left in the aftermath of his mother’s stillbirth seemed to have increased tenfold, seeping into the walls and hovering above everyone in the fortress like a cloud of anguish. 

Rhaenyra had swept Jace into her arms when he had returned. Too tired to even receive her son at the doors, both mother and son held each other and cried in Rhaenyra’s chambers as they mourned Luke, their sweet boy. 

But after that, there was no time for tears. At least not anymore for Jace. Though he was still prone to walking into his younger brother’s room every morning to wake Luke up for their daily sparring sessions, he always halted in his path when he remembered. Luke was dead, and there was no coming back for him now. 

Perhaps it was this constant feeling of gloom that began to drive Jace back into his old patterns of neglecting sleep. With Daemon gone, and his mother barely a fraction of what she used to be, Jace had to take charge as the future heir to the throne. He initially felt miserable, finding it useless to fight with one part of his heart having been stolen away and smashed to pieces. 

Yet the echoing of the prophecy never ceased, and neither did the ticking of time. No, now was not the time for grief. There was still someone left to pay the price for Luke’s death, and Jace vowed that he would kill Aemond One-Eye with his bare hands, along with the rest of his traitorous kin. 

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The Hall of the Painted Table was in tumult, voices shouting over one another, loudest and most outraged among them was the voice of Lord Corlys, Jace’s grandsire. 

It had been hours after the Battle of Rook’s Rest, and the Black council was in chaos, as Lord Corlys raged and screamed at Rhaenyra, who looked passive and sickly despite being seated at the head of the table. 

“It should have been you,” Lord Corlys had screamed, his face a tangled mess of pure unadulterated rage and grief. Even Jace himself could not find the courage to stop his grandsire’s tirade, having experienced the death of Luke not too long ago. But an uncomfortable tingling plagued him as he watched his grandsire hurl curses at his already frail mother. He wasn’t sure whose side to take in this argument, so he kept silent, despite his reluctance. 

The Battle at Rook’s Rest had not been the only blow they’ve suffered. Earlier, Ser Erryk had been slain, by the hands of none other than his turncloak brother, Ser Arryk. The bloody discovery had sent jolts of alarm through Jace, as he soon came to fear for the safety of his younger siblings, who were vulnerable should Dragonstone be infiltrated by any more knights such as Ser Arryk. 

The seeds Jace had scattered on his laborious trip as an envoy had begun to bear fruit, and not a moment too soon. Quickly, Jace made arrangements for Luke’s betrothed, Rhaena, to make way to the Vale. going with her would be Joffrey, along with his mount Tyraxes. Too small to ride, yet Jace found a greater purpose in sending him as part of his promise to Lady Jeyne. The Vale was the most secure place in the realm, Jace had reassured his petulant brother, who did not wish to be apart from his family. When that did not work, Jace had instead convinced Joffrey that he was being sent to the Vale so that he may defend it against any of the usurper’s dragons, to which Joffrey eventually reluctantly acquiesced, though with a pout. 

Barely had Joffrey and Rhaena been sent away then did Jace start making preparations to send both Aegon and Viserys away as well. Both of them were even younger than Joffrey, and should be kept the in the safest and furthest place possible, lest the usurper tried to use them as hostages. This time, Jace enlisted the help of Lord Corlys, mending the broken bonds between them by naming his grandsire Hand of the Queen, a position Jace knew he had long coveted. With his grandsire’s help, they had made arrangements to send Aegon and Viserys to Pentos. It was more secure than anywhere else in Westeros, his grandfather had reassured him as they sent them both off. 

All this had been accomplished within the matter of a few days, yet Jace still felt restless. An unpleasant knot had formed in his stomach at Joffrey and Rhaena’s send off, and it only multiplied in its discomfort as Aegon and Viserys set sail. But I’ve done it , Jace thought, trying to console himself. That fortune teller can’t get all of my family now. I made sure that they were sent to the safest places in the whole of Westeros and Essos. I’m safe. We are all safe. 

Convinced, Jace had settled into bed that night, shutting his eyes with a grim sort of victory pumping through his veins. See how your god is a falsehood, he wanted to taunt the fortune teller, triumphant in his victories. 

He didn’t feel so victorious, however, when he fell into a deep slumber, and came face to face with the fortune teller’s face. This time his dream was tranquil, with no signs of fire anywhere. Jace had nearly hollered in sheer, utter relief, thinking he was free from the nightmarish landscape of that night’s visions at last. 

A slender hand reached out to Jace, and Jace levelled a baleful glare at the fortune teller, who only serenely shrugged and continued holding out her hand. “It is rude to refuse a lady’s hand, my Prince.” That voice that had once enticed him, that had been the source of his dread for the past few years. 

He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to throttle the woman or kiss her. 

She had looked much unchanged since their encounter in the caravan, Jace thought as he took her hand, slightly relishing in the warmth of it. That certainly didn’t feel like a dream. He looked around, registering nothing but rolling grass fields of an unnatural blue-green hue and trees with leaves of the same colour. Frosty pink roses dotted the landscape ever so often, and their sickly sweet nectar wafted through the air. 

“Is this real?” The woman tilted her head, and Jace’s eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement of her neck. Damn, he cursed himself internally. He needed to get a hold of himself. Keep himself focused on whether this was reality. 

“It’s as real as my god deems it to be, Prince Jacaerys,” she informed him, and a harsh laugh rolled off Jace’s tongue. “Your god, is nothing but a falsehood, my lady,” Jace informed her, his voice dripping with venom at the thought of what he had lost. Luke. His mother’s joy and happiness. His mother’s and his rightful birthright. Though Jace knew it was the greed of the Greens that drove them to such straits, Jace couldn’t help but feel resentful to this unknown, eldritch god who had driven his paranoia for the past few years. 

The woman’s face did not show any visible indicators of outrage, but a thunderous flicker in her stormy eyes made Jace feel a little cowed. He did not believe in the god that this woman did, yes, but he knows that there is something unearthly about the woman before him. Her eyes already narrated such an expressive story, Jace wondered about what would happen if all the power swirling in her was put on display in its full fury. 

“I’m sure you thought you’ve evaded sailing into the eye of the storm,” the woman began to walk. Jace stared after her, perplexed, but began to walk with her nonetheless. The sweet smell in the air began to dissipate, and Jace felt a wave of nausea in his abdomen as he began to smell burning flesh again. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the more calming scent of something like honeysuckle. 

“A man seized by fear may do something moronic in the spur of the moment.. A man who allows fear to take control of him is as good as dead.” Anger bubbled in Jace, though he tried to tamp it down, worried that if he broke the serenity of their talk, the nightmarish scenes of fire consuming everything in its path and the dead faces of his family would return. Not that. Anything but that.  

“Had your god not shown me those visions, do you think I would have become a man ruled by fear?” Jace retorted in a calm voice, as they strode into a meadow, dotted with red roses. Jace was desperate to keep this conversation going, to know if he had been successful in tricking the heavens. He knew this woman held the answers to his success in the palm of her hand. He just wished he could stop his eyes from wandering and admiring her visage instead of the scenery. 

“Every man is ruled by fear, my Prince,” the woman’s voice was amused. “And are you telling me you regret seeing those visions? Would you rather have remained blissfully ignorant?” 

“Maybe,” Jace reached out to pluck a blood red rose, admiring its crisp petals. “Perhaps if I did, then I wouldn’t have to watch the ones I love die in my dreams, slaughtered by our enemies. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have to watch my worst nightmares come to reality, to see Lucerys die and be helpless to stop it.” 

“But it’s over now,” Jace and the fortune teller turned to face each other. Her impassive look unnerved Jace slightly, but still, against his better judgement and by some raw, magnetic pull of the universe, he tucked the rose he had plucked free of thorns in the woman’s hair. 

“Joffrey and Rhaena are in the Vale, the safest place there can be in the realm. And Aegon and Viserys are in Pentos. Or soon to be.” He tilted his head upwards cockily. “I have beaten your god. And he would never be able to get the rest of my family. Not now, not ever, and if he wants to, he’ll have to spit on my dead, cold corpse.” 

Jace had intended to provoke the woman, to goad her into admitting that he had played his cards right and well, but her next words caught him off-guard. 

“And what of King’s Landing? The Greens and their dragons?” She reminded him. “The murderer of your brother and unborn sister still remain at large, and the usurpers will live to breathe another day, the same as the rest of your family. Tell me, is your happiness truly just relegated to the safety of your family?” 

“You know you desire more, Jacaerys Velaryon.” 

The meadow filled with an eerie silence. The fortune teller’s eyes pierced through Jace’s, as if extracting all his deepest secrets with just a single, searing glance. 

“...you’re right,” Jace gritted his teeth. “It’s not enough. And I will raze the usurpers to the ground, every single last one of them, for conspiring against my mother. For murdering my brother.” 

“But if it’s a choice between vengeance and the safety of your family?” The woman’s voice was playful, a stark contrast to the subject matter they were discussing. “Is that your god’s way of telling me that I am doomed to follow one path or the other?” Jace asked sarcastically. He noticed that when he got more worked up, the familiar smell of burning flesh became stronger, before being quickly suppressed by a sickly sweet scent. 

“Mortals cannot have it all, Jacaerys Velaryon. We must make compromises.” Jace thought of Luke, poor, sweet Luke, losing his life at the hands of their uncle, thinking of his mother and the pain she had suffered through his miscarriage, hot white anger blinding him. But he also thought of Joffrey, Baela, little Aegon and Viserys, his mother, his grandsire, and Daemon. For all the wrongs the Green had wreaked upon them, if Jace ever came to the position where he had to choose between taking off Aemond’s head with his sword and protecting Joffrey, say, would he hesitate? What would he choose? 

“Not any more,” Jace forced out. “I will be controlled no longer by your god’s visions. By the fear he had instilled in me.” 

“My family has the power. We have the dragons and strength in numbers,” Jace’s voice rose in conviction. “The rest of my family are safely stowed away. What’s to stop us from raining blood and fire upon the usurpers?” The overwhelming smell of burning flesh was overtaking his senses again, and not even the sickly sweet scent of the meadow could hide it anymore. “I will prove your god wrong, my lady,” he informed her, a crude sort of determination in his voice. “The Targaryens are closer to gods than to men, after all.” 

The roaring in his ears grew louder and louder, and suddenly Jace was back in the battlefield of bodies again, the sky filled with shrieks as dragons plummeted to the ground. It was as if the fortune teller’s god was striking him down for his challenge to it. The hellscape blistered with smoke and fire, but Jace was insistent, continuing to yell. “You’ll see! You’ll all see.” 

Jace fought back the urge to flinch as he felt the burning sensation of fire engulfing him, forcing his screams of pain down his throat. That nightmare again. So he hadn’t escaped after all. His breathing grew heavier, as the flames grew greater in intensity and temperature. He could barely see anything now, and it felt worse than all the previous nightmares he had had. Was he wrong to have challenged the fortune teller’s god so boldly? To want to turn the tides of fate? 

“I will prove you and your god wrong!” Jace shouted, thrashing and trying to wrangle himself free from the prison of flames. “You will not touch my family no matter what! No more of them! I swear this on all my ancestors of Old Valyria, that you will have my family’s lives only if you spit and step on my dead body! Just try it!” 

A fiery burst of flame blinded his eyes, and Jace let out an agonised scream as he felt himself being burnt alive.

And then he was falling into an empty pit, his limbs outstretched and his heart seized by terror. 

A figure bolted upright from the lavish four-poster bed in one of the more secluded rooms in Dragonstone, gulping in the fresh air greedily. His sheets were stained with sweat as Jace wearily wiped a hand down his face, dismayed but not surprised to see a patch of scarlet stain his palm as a steady trickle of blood dripped from his nose. 

His heart thudding, Jace tried to recollect himself as his heart thudded in his chest. Yet again, the fortune teller’s calm, flowing voice filled his head as he recalled the last words he heard while he was hurtling through the empty vortex. 

“Dragonseeds.” 

A warning, Jace started, or another prophecy. But what does it mean? 

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Jace couldn’t quite find the steely strength that used to take hold of him every morning as he walked down to the Hall of the Painted Table. His vivid dream and talk with the fortune teller the night before had not yielded his intended result, to say the least. 

His grandsire was holding court as usual, and they immediately settled on their newest problem now that the younger children were away and out of the castle: the problem of their dragons. While the Blacks did have strength in numbers, having Syrax, Caraxes, Vermax, and even Baela’s Moondancer, as she insisted, against Aemond One-Eye’s Vhagar, the battle to retake King’s Landing or to withstand an assault by Vhagar would be a risky one. The loss of Meleys had been a devastating blow for the Black council’s earlier plans to take back King’s Landing as soon as possible, for it remained a key symbol of legitimacy that supported Aegon the Usurper’s rule. 

Jace sat stoically in his chair as Baela and his grandsire fielded suggestions and assessments on the risk factor of taking King’s Landing with their current dragons, lost in thought. His mind was focused on the dream he had last night, of death and battle and destruction that somehow felt more real and close to any dreams he had in the previous years, but also because of that fortune teller. 

That darn woman. With her mysterious words, her expressive eyes, her solemn wisdom falling from her very kissable lips- 

“Jace.” Jace wanted to kick himself for even thinking about such thoughts, when his betrothed was right next to him. Baela arched an eyebrow, clearly noticing how distracted he was. “My apologies, did you address me?” Jace murmured lowly to her, averting his grandsire’s disapproving gaze. 

“I asked what you thought about attacking King’s Landing with our current forces,” Corlys’ lips were pressed in a thin line, looking slightly displeased that his grandson had been caught lacking in his duties. Jace was about to repeat just about what everyone in the room had voiced out, when the fortune teller’s words from last night rang through his mind. 

Dragonseeds. Wild, untamed dragons on the island. 

Seven fucking Hells. 

“I would like to make a proposal.” 

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Lord Corlys had been dubious but intrigued about the plan of the Sowing of the Dragonseeds, but the Black council, including Baela, had seemed receptive to the idea. Particularly the Council. Jace wondered if he had made the right call when he saw the shifty looks on the various councillors’ faces, clearly hoping to claim a dragon of their own. After all, the Targaryens boasted their dragons as their might, should they be lucky enough to get the chance to bond with one…

The gold and knighthood Jace had planned to offer along for anyone successful enough to tame the dragons would pale terribly in comparison to a dragon. 

Jace was alone on the balcony with a view of the eastern slopes of the Dragonmont, musing, when he suddenly heard the doors slide open. His eyebrows shot to his hairline and his heart pounded with delight when Rhaenyra Targaryen emerged on the balcony, garbed in black. She had only been wearing black ever since Luke’s funeral, or the makeshift one they were forced to arrange without his remains. 

“Mother,” Jace greeted, moving to bow, but Rhaenyra halted his movements, moving to take his hands. “Oh my son,” she murmured softly, stroking Jace’s hair like she used to do when he was younger. “My strength and my consolation.” 

Jace felt a fluttery feeling in his heart, but also a deep pit of longing and sadness in his stomach. This was the mother he had missed sorely, not the one tucked away behind the vacant-eyed stare, face subdued during council meetings and always looking preoccupied with her own thoughts. 

“Mother. Have you heard of my plan about the Dragonseeds?” Jace asked softly, a warmth spreading across his cheeks as his mother gently stroked his hand with her thumb. His mother smiled, “I have. I think it is a sensible plan. More dragons on our side is never a bad thing.” Her eyes glittered with pride as she reached out and cupped Jace’s face in her hands gently. 

Taken aback but not at all averse to the gesture, Jace let himself be soothed, letting all the nightmares, that nonsense about the prophecy be evaporated into thin air. All he needed was his mother’s comfort. 

“Oh, my sweet boy, how I have let you down,” Rhaenyra spoke tenderly, sorrow in her voice. Jace felt something in the spell break, Rhaenyra was speaking to Luke. Not to Jace. A bit of Jace’s happiness gave way to sadness. 

“You haven’t let me down, Mother,” Jace tried to reassure her, but his voice came out a little croaky. “I should be fighting for you. It is my duty as your son and heir to the throne.” 

A little of the vacantness slid back into Rhaenyra’s lilac eyes. “I’m glad you know that, Jace,” she said quietly, but it broke Jace’s heart to see how far away she was. How her heart never fully repaired after Luke. 

But for now, Jace was content in acting as a placeholder for Luke, if it meant that his mother would return to him bit by bit. How long it took did not matter, he just wanted his family to be able to heal, to survive. He would shoulder a thousand burdens if it meant he would see them all safe and sound. 

The prophecy rumbled through his head again, but he tamped it down, not wanting it to poison his moment with his mother. 

“You’ve grown skinnier, Jace,” the pads of Rhaenyra’s fingers gently traced under Jace’s undereyes, where his eyebags were more prominent than ever. “Are you well? You need not feel too troubled, you know. We will win the war, because I am the rightful heir to the throne. The rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” His mother’s voice was so full of conviction, so much like the mother he had known, that Jace didn’t have the heart to tell her that conviction did not win wars. 

Whomever favoured fate did. 

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The Dragonseeds plot had worked its magic, and soon enough, four of the six wild dragons had been tamed. While Jace had not come to trust them just yet, he felt a little abashed. Was he just treating them with mistrust just because they were of bastard birth? He knew he had no prerogative to think in that shameful manner, after all, wasn’t that being a little bit of a hypocrite himself? 

There was no time to dwell on guilt however. With the sowing of the Dragonseeds, Jace, Rhaenyra and Corlys had been advancing the plan for the taking of King’s Landing at breakneck pace. Jace felt a warm relief spread through him as he began to see his mother participate more actively in council meetings, and he could see how much it invigorated the council too. The former self-assured, rosy glow his mother had would never quite be the same, but Jace was content to settle for this for now. 

Alas, all good things did not last. 

They had underestimated the strength of the Greens’ alliance with the Triarchy, as demonstrated when his younger brother, Aegon, returned on a faltering Stormcloud, in terror after having been attacked by Triarchy warships in the Gullet, and losing his younger brother, Viserys in the ensuing melee. 

Rhaenyra turned pale as soon as she heard the news of Viserys’ disappearance, collapsing into her chair and no longer speaking another word. Still, she listened and watched as Jace and Corlys began discussing plans to counter the threat of the Triarchy, knowing that if House Velaryon’s hold on the Gullet broke, it would be a resounding strategic win and gain in resources for the Greens. 

Thus on the fifth day of the new year of 130 AC, a flurry of dragons and ships departed from Dragonstone, all headed for the Triarchy. Jace commanded Vermax, along with the other Dragonseeds, his lips pressed in a thin line and eyes haggard with lack of sleep. His nose had been bleeding oft as of late, even now, as they drew closer to the Gullet, but Jace only wiped it away with a fierce look on his face. 

It was his first battle as the heir to the Iron Throne, and he was going to show those Triarchy bastards they had chosen the wrong side to back. 

Swooping down on a line of Lysene warships, Jace narrowed his eyes as he heard the alarmed calls of “dragon!” among the crew. Good. 

“Dracarys!” Hungry dancing flames licked the wooden remains of the Lysene warships, as chaos broke out throughout the fleet of Triarchy warships. “Hold your formations!” Jace could hear the soldiers scrambling, but more frenzied shouts began filling the air, as the shapes of Vermithor, Sheepstealer, Silverwing and Seasmoke appeared in the skies. 

“Fire!” Jace barely had time to react before a Myrish crossbolt had nearly struck Vermax’s underbelly. His dragon let out an enraged shriek as it swooped for the offending vessel, burning it to ashes. Jace gritted his teeth, they had clearly learnt this tactic from their time in dealing with Daemon in the Stepstones. 

Egging Vermax on with a roar, he bade Vermax to destroy as many vessels loaded with crossbolts as possible. Already, some ships were beginning to turn, a good sign for them. Jace was confident that the battle would end in a resounding victory for them. 

Just then, he flew past Seasmoke, whose rider, Addam Velaryon, looked ashen. Jace’s gaze shot to where he was staring at, where the ships were headed straight for Driftmark and Dragonstone. Fuck. 

“Stay here!” He yelled a command to Addam, already directing Vermax to head back to defend Dragonstone and Driftmark. “I’ll handle this. Burn every ship that has one of those fucking crossbolts, and don’t fly too close to the water.” 

With that, Vermax’s leathery wingbeats headed for Dragonstone once more. Please, Jace begged, hoping to make it in time. No more of my family. Not my mother, or little Aegon. Please no. 

Perhaps if Jace was more careful, more alert, he would’ve noticed the squadron of ships, veiled by the smoke of the fires Jace had set earlier. Perhaps if he hadn’t chosen to fly so close to the edge of the water, hoping to conceal Vermax’s presence and sneak an attack from behind instead of from above, he would’ve noticed the crossbolt aimed at Vermax’s eye. 

A loud roar filled the air, one which could be heard all the way across from Dragonstone. Vermax shrieked and flailed, as both squadrons of ships attacked at the same time, loosing crossbolts at him. Jace panicked, trying to redirect him to fly up, to escape, to flee, but a horrific screech erupted from Vermax as a crossbolt pierced his eye. Jace was gripped with fear as he began to unbuckle his saddle as Vermax careened for the waters. 

In his frenzied fury of pain, Vermax loosed several fireballs, which hit the ships in front of him, destroying the back of some of the squadron headed for Dragonstone. The ships splintered into pieces as they exploded, and the remaining ships shouted orders to row away from the firing range of the dragon. 

As Vermax hit the waters with a loud crash, Jace finally got loose of his saddle. Spotting an adrift, large shipwreck near him, he leaped free…

And landed on the shipwreck, barely clinging on in the freezing waters. He struggled to keep afloat as Vermax continued thrashing about in the waves, and his heart ached as he watched his beloved dragon suffer. 

Then, a sharp, excruciating pain filled his left chest, and Jace looked away from Vermax to see an arrow lodged in his chest, piercing his dragonriding leathers. 

Fuck. 

Jace tried to make himself look smaller, anything to seem less conspicuous, but a volley of arrows were shot in his direction. Most of them missed in the dark, but the pain was blinding to the point where Jace’s feeble grip on the wood slowly loosened, and he thrashed about wildly in the cold sea waters, gasping for breath. The weight of his dragonriding leathers and scarce amount of armour did not work well in his favour however, and the treacherous waves soon dragged him down, into the deep dark depths of the ocean. 

I cannot die now, Jace thought, sputtering for air desperately. My family, my mother needs me. She cannot lose another son- 

The currents were getting harsher and harsher, as Jace bled out helplessly on the water. Armour, he needed to dislodge his armour- he frantically attempted to remove it, but as he lost more and more blood, his limbs grew number and number, and soon, he could barely retain consciousness. 

‘I’ve failed. I’ve failed them all.’ was Jacaerys Velaryon’s last thought as he was pulled beneath the currents by invisible tendrils of water, into the murky depths below. 

‘I’m sorry I failed to protect everyone.’ 

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

In his dreams, Jace was at the meadow again. The woman was nowhere to be seen, but he could feel her presence all around him. A light, serene sort of happiness filled him, and he felt the phantom feeling of warm arms wrapped around him from behind. 

It was something he hadn’t felt in years. An eerily calm sense of bliss. But Jace didn’t care, he was too busy relishing in the moment where his mind was free of his demons. Free from worrying about his family’s survival, about the prophecy, and about the war. 

In his blurred senses, he could see someone smiling at him, a tender, playful one. A warm breath grazed his ear and the voice from his sweetest dreams and most horrid nightmares spoke in that calm, flowing manner of hers. 

“The living are not quite done with you yet, Jacaerys Velaryon.” 

And that was the last thing he heard before darkness consumed him once more. At least this time there was no pain. 

The first thing Jacaerys registered when he woke up was the faint scent of snapdragons. He groaned as he awakened, feeling an agonising pain in his shoulder as he tried moving. 

Aren’t I supposed to be dead? Jace remembered the events of the battle of The Gullet, where he had watched Vermax flail about in the sea, screeching as he fought not to drown in the cold depths of the ocean. His heart ached at the loss. Another one of my family gone, in the blink of an eye. And in the sea too. He wondered how the battle ended, did they win? 

But that soon became a minor concern as he began pondering…where exactly was he? He looked around, trying to sit up, but the pain in his shoulder forced him to fall back onto his pillow with a groan. So he was still alive then. Sudden panic gripped him. Had he been taken hostage by the Green forces? But if he had, then he would be in a far worse state than he was now. 

He glanced around the small space, noting that he was in a cottage of sorts. The smell of salt was heavy in the air, and the sky outside was grey and gloomy. Had some fisherman rescued him when he washed upon the shore? And if so, where in the Seven Hells was he now? The Crownlands? He definitely didn’t wash ashore on Dragonstone, or he would have been handed over to his mother. His heart ached as he wondered how his mother must have reacted to the news of his death. Once he ascertained his whereabouts and who had saved him, he would fly home for Dragonstone immediately….Jace sighed when he remembered that Vermax was dead now. He would send a raven or any messenger bird he could find then. 

The sound of the front door to the cottage opening caught Jace’s attention and he tried bolting upright, but yelped when his shoulder pain acted up again. He waited with bated breath as the door to his room opened, and revealed his saviour and possible enemy. However, the sight before him left him thunderstruck.

In that instant, Jace’s heart felt like it had stopped and then had been jolted forcefully back to life again by a tight grip. 

No. No, no, no, it was impossible. He had died, had felt the arrows pierce through his chest near his heart, before he fell prey to the treacherous waves of the Gullet, drowning in his failure. This has to be some false afterlife, set up to torment me. 

And yet, the pain in his lungs was overbearing, and definitely real, as he sat on the bed like he had been bolted to it, tightly clutching the coarse bedsheets in his fists. 

The whole world seemed to stand still as his eyes took in the familiar figure, holding a basket of herbs in her arms. Garbed in simple peasant clothing, yet that did not diminish her otherworldly beauty. 

“ You. ” 

“Me.” An insouciant, wry grin graced her lips, and it was like Jace’s most horrible nightmares and his dreams were blossoming before his very eyes. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Prince Jacaerys.”

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published as part of the HOTD Big Bang 2023

Part 2 will be published soon! If you made it this far, thank you for reading! 💗

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 20: Hamper

 to hinder or impede in moving, progressing, or acting

Character(s): Ciel Fyth, Malek Fyth (belonging to @holy-halone) Cw: none Word count: 765 Notes: Woo! I finally did a prompt with Ciel! This was literally the first thing I thought of when I saw this word :3 I plan to go back and clean it up as this is just the first draft but I wanted to submit what I had since I finished before the deadline. Set around pre-arr timeline! Enjoy <3

When morning arrived, the rainfall had stopped. 

The Fyth siblings were eager to continue their journey through the Shroud, their progress no longer hindered by the violent thunderstorm that had forced them to camp out in the shelter of an old stable the night before. Ciel hadn’t been too enthused to do that as he was never a fan of loud storms but his older brother knew exactly what to do to keep him calm and distracted so that sleep was easy to come by.

With the sun rising again in a clear blue sky, Ciel was back in high spirits. He hummed happily, a few paces ahead of his brother who was occupied with trying to find any sort of sign they were heading in the right direction. Malek didn’t want to admit it out loud but he somehow managed to get them both way off course in his inner panic to find shelter when the storm had suddenly rolled in. The torrent of rain made it difficult to see so Malek picked a direction and ran, hoping to get lucky. Now that it was daylight, he realized with a pang of frustration, they backtracked quite a bit. Gridania hadn’t been too far the last time he had checked a map--if they kept heading north, they were bound to see something familiar. 

Malek had just hoped nothing else would prevent their progress nor that his brother would catch on to the fact they may or may not be lost (he really ought to buy a map of the area one of these days). Though even if he knew, the younger didn’t seem to mind it as he continued to bounce along the trail and soak in the sun. 

“Ah!” Ciel l came to a sudden halt, his ears flickering a bit. “I hear running water! The river!” He practically skipped forward in eagerness and Malek had to jog a little to keep up. The river meant they were nearly there which brought relief to the older sibling–they hadn’t gone too far off course like he thought they had. 

His younger brother came to a stop at the rock, looking at the water and then turning back to his older brother with an eager smile, bouncing on his toes. Malek came to a stop next to him and looking at water below with a frown. 

“That’s just great,” Malek huffed as he placed one hand on his hip, and carded the other one through his hair in annoyance. The rainfall had caused the river to rise significantly and there was no sign of a bridge to cross which meant that somehow, the aftermath of the storm still managed to hamper the way forward. “We’ll have to find another way across.” 

“That’s okay!” Ciel turned, smiling brightly at his brother. “We can just swim across!” He didn’t wait for Malek to answer the question before slipping off with the intention to dive into the rushing river. 

“Hold on,” Malek was quick to catch him, practiced hands reaching out to grab the back of his younger brother’s hood in order to hold him back. “There is no way we are swimming across that,” he pointed at the water to emphasize his point. “Do you see how quickly that water is moving? You’re going to get pulled under, even if you are a strong swimmer.” 

“Oh.” Ciel blinked, turning to face his brother with a quizzical look. “Then do we wait another day before continuing on? So long as it doesn’t rain again, I think the water level should go down enough to cross safely…” 

Malek didn’t reply right away as his gaze searched the trees nearby, landing on one that had fallen off its stump–most likely due to getting struck by lightning the night before. How convenient. Malek smiled to himself in victory and wordlessly made his way over to the tree. “Ciel, think you could use a little wind magic to get this thing over the river?” 

Ciel perked up, pulled from his distracted mutterings to himself, mismatched eyes gazing at his brother in innocent curiosity before landing on the fallen log that Malek was still staring at. A smile spread across his face as he pulled out his white mage staff. “Happy to!” 

With the log positioned over the riverbank, Malek and Ciel were able to cross and continue forward, their surroundings slowly becoming more familiar to the older sibling. Gridania wasn’t too far now, they’d reach the City-State by mid-day. He found himself humming quietly along with his brother, finally at ease. 

[devild0m]

Day 08 Midnight Visit - Hyesolo

Eyes furrowed at the never ending sight of the paperwork, having just gotten off a group call with the seven demon brothers; Hye is quickly brought back to the reality. Back in the human realm and working steadily at what is known as the mage’s tower, thankfully due to Solomon’s influence and their own accolades of being the master of the seven demon lords, landed them a pretty cushy job and didn’t have to return to their old one. the pay and leave was quite good. but, the workload was a heavy adjustment. while Hye was accustomed to overtime this was a completely different beast, they didn’t have the luxury of being a famous immortal mage who could leave at the drop of a hat, deadlines upon deadlines was thrusted upon them. gazing out the window, when did it become night time?

stomach growling and eyes drooping even more than usual, when was the last Hye had actually sat down and ate? If anything, their work life reminded him of his student days. couldn’t help but laugh at his circumstance, never in a million years did Hye think she’d be capable of wielding magic let alone being so powerful having to require two rings to regulate such power. with both parents out of his life officially, it felt both fulfilling and empty. at long last, Hye had accomplished what her parents solely wanted but at what cost? The cost of unloving and apathetic parental figures? it was laughable in so many ways, sinking into their chair. golden eyes fluttering shut for just a moment, only then a single figure teleports into Hye’s office.

It was Solomon. Seemingly returned from his trip from half across the globe, wondering what exactly his adorable student was up to, only to find them sleeping whilst in the midst of conducting research. noticing the dark circles under her eyes, Solomon could only sigh. Maybe I should convince the upper heads for a sanctioned break thinking to himself. poking Hye’s cheek to watch their reaction, at first frowning at the sudden disturbance and then turning their chair until . . . oops they fell.

completely startled awake and drawing their sword, only to find his whimsical teacher waving at him. taking in a great sigh. “ Sol… What are you doing here , I thought you were researching in Europe.. “ Wiping the sleepiness out of his eyes, this in turn only made Solomon chuckle. How on earth could someone be this adorable? “ I’ve just returned as you can see, well, I see they’ve kept you rather busy. A bit too much for my liking, when was the last time you actually slept? “ Tapping a finger against Hye’s cheeks. Immediately in response turning their head to the side, a tell sign that they were hiding something. “ Well . . . I sleep in the office sometimes and head home in the morning before we need to start working aga- Hey what are you doing? “ Being lifted in the air by Solomon and carried not too dissimilar of a sack of potatoes. Solomon laughs in response, opening up the window and the two of them walked on the air gazing at the night sky & lights.

It was a magical sight. “ Well, I have to make sure my adorable starlight can get some rest now don’t I? “ In no shape to fight off their fatigue and sleepiness, clinging to Solomon neck and drifting off to bed. Solomon can only chuckle, kissing their cheek.

Sweet dreams…

[nayelianne]

I've reached the same painful conclusion. It's gonna be a little lengthy but I'll share some of my own experience/insights with it, in case it may be of use (or comfort) to anyone else. ~ Background ~

I used to draw the most during school, and thought that once I was done with it and had more time I’d be able to fully dedicate to art. It made sense in my youngling mind, I drew in class all the time! The classes that didn't challenge me seemed like the distraction to my goals. But turns out they were what kept me on track. The times I felt the biggest urge to draw were moments in which I could not, be it due to having other pressing priorities, or lack of means (health, tools, etc). And in the moments I then could, the urge quickly went away and art once more became a dreaded task.  1. My first mistake: Not allowing myself to do Personal Art

It’s part of what started creating all sorts of bad associations in my brain. I didn't make space for truly putting my soul into my art. I’d be working, often times in styles or things I didn’t enjoy, while desperately urging to do the personal work and studies that would rekindle my fire. But my energy was limited, and I couldn’t afford delaying any deadlines, so I never allowed that energy to be directed to anything that wasn’t the responsibility that I was being paid for.

What resulted was that art slowly started to become traumatic, and I’d get depressed just by the thought of opening a drawing app. I was slowly disconnecting myself from all the things I enjoyed about art in the first place.

I realized how important it is to make space for that. Do the art that fuels your soul! Because if you burn out it’ll be soooo hard to get back to drawing. 2. The second issue: Perfectionism

Following the previous story. It was all work and all about results. I had to deliver. That's what mattered. And though the client was happy, due to not doing any personal work to keep my creative juices going, I was pretty much forcing myself to only draw things in ways I (often) didn't agree on. The goal was delivering exactly what the client wanted. Getting out of your comfort zone is important to progress as an artist, don't get me wrong! It's where you find the things you need to work on. But also working on things that resonate with you helps a lot with motivation. The client was happy, but my dissatisfaction started brewing as I faced the outcome of my pieces; be it due to not having the luxury of time — not being speedy enough to make something that reached my personal standards in the allotted time; or because the pieces were being altered by the client in ways I wasn’t proud of (to the point of me not wanting to get credited). And doing work I wasn't proud of was killing me inside, building up the feelings of shame, and frustration at every step. I was getting disappointed with myself. 3. The Artist Identity

I'd see other artists, so passionate about art, living and breathing it as if it was something that they would be incomplete without. Meanwhile I was burning out, needing time to recover every time I delivered a piece. I started questioning if I simply wasn't cut out for it. All my life all I wanted was to be an artist but there I was, working with art in the field I always hoped for, and it felt like torture. "Is this it?" — I'd push the thought to the back of my mind, as I'd force myself to draw, to the point that my body started to fail on me (which certainly didn't help with any positive associations). We oftentimes tie our identity to being an "artist", and mushing your personal identity with that can be a real problem.

"If I'm not cut out to be an artist, what am I good for?".

You start to take failure personally. But what counts as failure can come in many forms; being too slow, making a piece you're not happy with, missing a deadline, making a post and looking at it one hour later only to realize you missed something obvious. It can be as simple as "Why can't I get those details right after so many hours on this? Why is this so hard?". Eventually you get things right, and you hear the compliments. But the more you try the more you feel like a fraud. An identity crisis ensues.

Very often our drawing skill isn't up to par with our perception. We get frustrated by the difficulty to translate that knowledge onto paper. Get frustrated enough times, and the brain start making some unpleasant connections.

And that's the tricky part, because to improve and bridge that knowledge vs execution gap we need to fail, we need to DO the thing and work our muscle memory. But it's so hard not to get boggled down by taking it as a personal failure. From Artist to Student

There's a quotation I always liked, that I feel applies to a lot of artists as well:

"I hate writing, but I love having written".

I started getting paralyzed by my own perfectionism, by my fear of failure. And I realized the only way out of that trap was to try my best to drop the "artist" identity, and reclaim the "student" one. If my focus is no longer on results, but on learning, every mistake is a learning experience; it is progress, rather than failure.

That pulls the focus away from the results, from the frustration of not living up to what we envisioned, from being disappointed in ourselves. It makes the process no longer feel like the torturous means to the final piece, but rather the best part of the experience. The process can be fun once again, because that's where you're learning new things, and you can take pride in knowing that you're leveling up every time you understand how to do something new, or seeing where something went wrong so you can apply it in your next piece. It takes away a lot of the pressure to perform, and the quality of your work improves by natural consequence, as an extra treat. Given that the process is longest part of our interaction with art, making that process pleasant goes a long way into keeping us interested in doing it again. ADHD and Productive Procrastination One of the things that can work (albeit haphazardly) is setting up “productive procrastination” chains, never having only ONE big important task, but sort of multiple meaningful tasks/projects that you can rotate around. That way you can procrastinate the dreaded one by doing another productive/creative task, instead of falling prey to some easy dopamine hit (such as doomscrolling on social apps or binging on shows).

The problem is that the brain oftentimes goes like: “I see what you’re doing fren! You can’t fool me!”, and actually getting those tasks going in a way that won’t turn your life into an overwhelming chaos is pretty hard in practice. It's easy to fall into the trap of watching art videos, buying courses or tools and feeling like you're moving forward without actually getting anywhere because you're still avoiding drawing. So tasks have to be set up in a way that drawing becomes the thing you steer towards so to avoid the other tasks, but both tasks have to be meaningful to you and worthwhile! That way you have the reprieve of going the other direction some times, while also moving forward toward your goals. Easier said than done, of course. Doing important things first

Another thing I realized is that the first things you do in a day tend to set the tone for how you'll interact with it as it goes by. If the first thing I do is checking messages and emails, or watching a show, I can easily fall into "responsive" mode where the brain just sort of expects for things to happen so it can respond to, rather than initiate. It's hard to switch gears to "production" mode, specially as our energy levels deplete as the day goes on. So initiating tasks feels much more forced, which an ADHD brain particularly hates. Besides having a lower resistance at the start of the day, starting the day off by doing a productive task can be a good way to create momentum and give you a little dopamine hit of "yay, I did the daunting task" thus helping build better associations in your brain. Having company

It also helps to build connections and making friends that inspire you. Having people around you striving for the same goal and sharing their progress with you can help light that spark that makes you want to do art! Seeing my friends' effort makes me proud, and inspires me to work harder also. If it weren't for those connections I probably would have quit art altogether.

Mirroring (eg. doing art with someone together — be it in person in a shared coworking space or during a sketchcrawl; or online by hanging out on discord and screen sharing) works wonders, but parallel play goes a long way too! Some times just getting out of your usual environment and being with a friend who’s also working on something (eg. friend is coding and you’re on your sketchbook drawing while in the same room) can help put you in “productive” mode. ---- All that said, it's not easy overcoming those blocks, even when we try to come up with methods to trick our brain into letting us do the things we want. I guess at the end of the day we just have to keep seeking these little accommodations to make our brain work in our favor. 

i feel like i had a massive breakthrough with understanding in hindsight how adhd has affected my relationship with art, and i sat there for about an hour just like

[anonymous-hargreeves]

Perfect Failure

Ghost!Ben Hargreeves x gn!reader (platonic)

☆= In which the reader gets a good but disappointing grade on an essay and ghost!Ben Hargreeves comforts her

Warnings: low selfesteem maybe? reader is slightly ADHD coded

Genre: fluff/comfort

Masterlist

The day has already been horrible enough in your opinion. It started right in the morning when you slept a bit too long to get to school on time, which was really frustrating. And after waiting anxiously the whole day for getting that essay back, you nearly cried when you held it in your hand. You worked your ass off for this. Sure, you had started only a week before the deadline, but you invested time for research and writing, while you had to manage everything at home, due to your mother being in the hospital at the given time. And now it was a B+? Only a B+? Your first essay was an A- and while a B+ wasn’t bad at all, it was quite the disappointment.

That all leads to you being at the Hargreeves Estate now, not being able to sit at home in self-pity. Some entertainment, even if it’s in form of the weird fun that Klaus provides. Your mother didn’t mind, the Hargreeves always been close family friends after all. Looking through the house you noticed that Klaus wasn’t home, he would be back surely, so you sat down in the living room, looking around. The room was decorated with art of all sorts, books everywhere, only the most expensive and nice things. Things that overachievers created. People who where good at what they where doing. People who where extraordinary, gifted even. Not like you, you thought. Everything you tried, you did good in the beginning. Never average for being a beginner, but as time comes by you just don’t improve, you stop being better than others at what you were doing.

Not that that’s a bad thing, but it was never enough for you. How could it be enough if you are always stuck in second place? When everything you do is good, but never very good, never perfect? If others would ask you what your talent is, you would answer them that it is to fail. Don’t get me wrong, you weren’t a person who is good in everything. In most classes you had average, maybe good grades, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to be at the very top of the things you were good in.

Frustrated and maybe even a bit angry with yourself, you let out a huff as you threw a pillow across the room, knocking over a probably expensive vase. Not that anyone in the house would care about that. “My, that bad of a day, huh?”, you look next to you, Ben had suddenly appeared on the soft cushion.

“Got that damn essay back”, you frowned, crossing your arms in front of you, “Only got a B+, which is so not fair. The content of my essay was good. Perfect even. I only failed in the other categories, so I failed overall. I am a failure.”

Now it was Ben’s turn to frown. He was no stranger to that attitude of yours, the days you would push yourself past your limits, when nothing was good enough. “Come on now.” He sighed, “Failure? You do know that it’s not true. You did well in that essay.” You huff once more, as if he just had offended you in the most ridiculous way. “Exactly. I did well. Not perfect.”

The ghost was quiet for a second before realizing that this issue was way deeper than just wanting to be good at something. You wanted to be better than others. Like the constant need of surpassing others was bubbling up right inside you. “Y/N, you do realize that you don’t need to be better than others to be good, right? You are perfect just as you are. I know you want to be better than the best, but no matter if you score higher than them or fail something completely, it doesn’t change what you are worth.” You look at him, letting out a small laugh. “Ah, so poetic ghost-boy.” “Y/N! I am trying to be serious!” But he can’t help and has to laugh as well. “You are good enough, you hear me? I mean, even if things are more difficult for you, you always try your best and you still succeed. That’s something you can be proud of.” “You really think so?” “Of course.”

Ben had to smile, his eyebrows slightly raised while looking at you, “Just compare yourself to Klaus. You are extremely gifted next to him.”

You burst out laughing “Ben! So mean!”

[lushaletta]

Hi could you please do a comfort one with George weasley where the reader is overwhelmed about a lot of schoolwork that’s due soon because she has no energy to do it and is a bit depressed and really tired but doesn’t know how/want to convey that? 😅

a mound of homework / george weasley

pairing: george weasley x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of mental health, mild swearing

summary: having no energy to do schoolwork was never a problem you thought you’d have, but george makes it easier.

a/n: tysm for the request, anon!! i know this took me a minute to get to, my apologies! also, i don’t know if this is exactly what you wanted, but i tried my best <3

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Throughout your Hogwarts career, you’ve been persistently on top of everything. Assignments always turned in early, and returned with a big, red ‘Excellent’ stamp on it.

And yet, there you were, staring at your pile of uncompleted essays and worksheets.

A sensible person might ask for help, but the idea of doing so sent shivers down your spine. No way. Then they’d think you were a slacker. You weren’t a slacker. Just… demotivated. Unfocused. Yes.

And tired. So goddamn tired. Maybe even a little depressed. You could tell your friends noticed. Especially your boyfriend, George Weasley.

The mound of homework you had to do soon was a constant weight on your shoulders, your calendar serving as a cruel reminder that you were behind.

You were never like this. But your studies had never been more demanding than now, and with all your other responsibilities, it was getting to be too much.

“Hello, are you there?” George waved in your face. Right. Stay in the present.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m here,” you laughed a nervous laugh, your tone laced with stress.

“What’s the matter?” his eyes softened, and he leaned in closer. “Let me guess, you got a question wrong on the homework, and now you’re having an existential crisis?”

He was joking, but the word ‘homework’ caused all your worries to come rushing back. “What? No.”

“Then what is?”

There was no point in hiding it anymore. George could see through you like a glass pane, and it was obvious he’d find out. Whether you told him or not. “Just school,” a sigh left your lips.

“Just school,” he repeated. “Go on,” he encouraged, once he saw you struggling for words.

“It’s just… school used to be the least of my issues. I’m good at school, aren’t I? So what’s happening? Why am I falling behind? Why am I lacking?”

A look of hurt appeared to shoot through him, but it was gone as fast it came. Then it morphed into concern. “You think you’re lacking?” he asked, sounding offended that you could even think that.

“Well, I have a stack of work to complete. It’s all due next week,” you sighed, looking anywhere but his eyes. “I’d say that’s lacking, yeah.”

“It’s not,” he said firmly. “You’re not. You’re just having academic burnout, you’ll get through it.”

Maybe it was his warm hands on your shoulder or his comforting smile, but you were already feeling better. Lighter.

“How long will it last? When will I ever get back on track? How will I do it?” you asked, suddenly remembering the deadlines and disappointed faces on your professors.

“We’ll do it. I’ll help you,” you knew he wasn’t lying. Of course, he would. Why wouldn’t he? But help wasn’t something you’ve ever needed, and now that you did, it was, in all honesty, terrifying.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his sad expression was back.

“Because it’s embarrassing!”

“No, it’s not,” you looked away from him yet again, but his fingers gently pulled your face back towards him. “You know that Fred and I also ask for help. All the damn time. It’s basically the only thing we do.”

“I know, but I never do. It’s weird,” you argued.

“What’s weird is that you refuse to reach out to us. We’re your friends, and we’d do anything to support you. You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded weakly. How could you not? You had such a wonderful support system, kind and patient, always there for you. You just had a hard time believing it.

“I just don’t know how. How to communicate. It’s silly, really.”

“Don’t say that,” his voice was steady, unfaltering. “Nothing you say is silly.”

That’s what you’d been repeating to yourself in your head, so constant it was like a ritual. Hearing the words out loud, and from George, made it sound a little more real.

And maybe it was his relaxed smile or the sense of security he gave you, but it felt like things would be okay.

“Tell you what, I’ll get you a plate from the Hall. You haven’t eaten yet, correct?” you hadn’t. He knew you all too well. “Then we can start on the work.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in faux annoyance, but you loved that he could read you like a book. Made communicating easier.

“Sounds good to me,” you smiled for the first time that day, even if just to put him at ease, it was still a smile.

And it was all thanks to George.

[buckyownsmylife]

Follow you - Chris Evans smut

The one where Chris becomes your roomate and finds out he has a domesticity kink... and more

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, domesticity kink, friends to lovers, rommates au, pandemic mention, hair-pulling kink, daddy kink, cockwarming, kind of allusion to an age gap, but can be read as reader being into teasing chris

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Thanks to @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ for reading this over and helping me make it better! You’re the sweetest person ever!  this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them. Hope you guys like it!

Chris’ P.O.V.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” I’d been trying to convince her to close her laptop for the last two hours, unfortunately without any luck. She just glanced at me before returning to her document, and I groaned as I left the living room in search of what I knew we needed.

“Close the laptop and I’ll give you a sip.” This time when she looked up, she found me holding a bottle of my most expensive whiskey, the one she’d been dying to try ever since she first got invited to my place.

It was a tense moment of evaluation while she took in my offer and her workload, her head turning from her computer to me and then back to the device again, and I found himself growing anxious because of how desperately I wanted her company that night.

“Please?” I tried to convince her, even going so far as to pout - which at least earned me a giggle. I considered it a win, especially with the way it made my chest warm up. “C’mon, we deserve it! After the week we had?”

She frowned when she thought back on the stresses we had confided in each other for the last couple of days, and I watched with glee when she slowly closed her laptop, prompting me to wave my arms around in victory. “We?” She teased, getting up to stand before me with her arms crossed in front of her body, making me laugh.

“Alright, so maybe just you.” I couldn’t really deny that my work “problems” paled in comparison to hers. “Listen, I’m only trying to help.” She narrowed her eyes at me, reaching out for the bottle and unscrewing it before taking the sip I’d promised.

“Shit, this really is good.” A smug smile took over my face as I wrapped my arms around her, walking us back to the couch before making us fall over it.

“Only the best for you, babe.” I watched her roll her eyes at the pet name, snickering at how it affected her. I knew it made her giddy and she hated it, it’s why I insisted on doing it - or so I told myself.

Something deep inside of me whispered differently, though. I tried to ignore it. She was my best friend and we were going to be living together for the foreseeable future. No one knew when this pandemic would let up.

And lord knows that nothing positive had ever come out of my investments in romantic relationships. So every rational thought in my mind was begging me not to overcomplicate this. I couldn’t stand to lose her friendship, anyway. That’s why I had invited her to spend lockdown with me - my need to know she was okay, and be able to have her around whenever I needed to vent.

She was the only one outside my family who got my anxiety well enough to help me work through it when I was feeling bad, and she had even been able to prevent me from having panic attacks more than once.

I just couldn’t imagine going through this with anyone other than her. I simply hadn’t anticipated how fucking horny this period of forced sexual privation would make me, and I never expected her to become a willing victim to my needs.

But boy, once the liquor hit and she ended up over my lap, shivering as she rode my thigh without a care in the world, was I glad that she did.

“Is this what you like?” I asked, looking up at her with my mouth hanging open, unbelieving of how fucking sexy she looked as she used my body for her pleasure. I didn’t even care that my cock was straining against my jeans, begging me to move her on top of it. As long as I could keep enjoying the show, being a part of it, I was satisfied.

“I wanna learn it,” I pressed, moving my hands to hold her ass, squeezing it the way I’d always wanted to do but never allowed myself to dream about. “I wanna learn how to please you.” She made me feel something I hadn’t felt before, in any of my past relationships. There was attraction, of course, but there was also this deep, familiar feeling that made me feel at home. It made me feel safe, and with the help of alcohol, I was desperate to explore it.

“Ugh,” she groaned, letting her head fall back, drawing my attention to her breasts, the way they bounced in front of my eyes, unfortunately still covered. My mouth watered at the sight of it, wanting nothing much than to strip her bare and wrap my lips around one of her nipples.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Evans.” The comment threw me off, making me frown as I took a hold of the hair on the back of her head and yanked her to me, devouring her lips. They were soft - so much softer than I’d ever allowed myself to imagine.

“Why not?” I panted against her mouth once I was forced to separate from her taste of whiskey to search for some oxygen. She kept moving, her eyes hazy and glossed over, and it sent a pang of lust straight down my body when I realized it wasn’t completely due to the drinks we shared. There was also desire in there.

“You want to learn?” She asked, hands bunching up my shirt as she used her hold to grind against me faster. “Then fuck me, Chris.” She molded her body to mine, engulfing my lips once more as I laid her down on the couch, excited to have her underneath me - excited to see her naked body, explore it, get to know every little thing that made her tick.

I knew it would be a moment I’d forever remember, regardless of the amount of bourbon in my blood. I just never expected it to become something I was so eager to relive over and over and over again.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. When I woke up in the morning, I was ready to go back to being roommates. We were good at that. She was a morning person, by the time I woke up every morning, she already had breakfast ready for me, and then we’d go out to the backyard to let Dodger out together.

We’d sit and talk and then I’d go for a run - she’d have done her yoga already, while I was still asleep - I’d answer some e-mails, she’d work on her laptop by my side and the silence was just as comfortable as all of our late night conversations.

She’d sneak out to the kitchen and come back with a few sandwiches for our lunch, and then the rest of the day would go by with us doing whatever mundane task we had in mind, together even if we were doing separate things, and I didn’t feel suffocated.

I didn’t even run out of things to say. By the time dinner rolled around and I followed her back to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes while she fixed us dinner - I wasn’t allowed to cook in my own stove, mostly because she was terrified of my food but hid it under the excuse of that one time when I started a fire - then we’d eat together, watch a movie together, talk until we fell asleep - always together.

I was shocked. It’d never been this way in any of my previous relationships. In fact, I was certain it was the reason why they had never worked. I’d given up on any realistic expectation of settling down precisely because of this: I just never expected to find anyone with whom a day-to-day life wouldn’t eventually grow boring.

It’d been three months and I still loved to wake up to her coffee. We still fell asleep every night side by side, too tired to move into different beds because we had laughed our asses off after skyping Scott.

And now that sex came into play in our relationship? I just knew there was no way I’d ever go back to being nothing but friends - or living in a place where she wasn’t the first person I saw when I woke up.

It sucked that it took a pandemic and a night of alcohol to make me realize that, but damn, was I grateful that I decided to open a bottle of whiskey that evening.

I kept waiting for the catch, the moment it would all go to shit, but it never came. Our lives resumed to how they used to be, only now I had this ongoing inner battle to not just bend her over the nearest piece of furniture when we were busy, and the ability to do exactly that whenever there was nothing else to do.

And for a while it was bliss. There wasn’t a nagging voice inside my head questioning this arrangement because it was theoretically perfect. I had a best friend, a roommate and a fuck buddy, all wrapped into one single person that I adored.

Life couldn’t possibly get better - until I realized that I wanted more. Talks of lockdown being over started and she had plans of going back to her place, of course, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from her.

I wanted to see my family too, but I wanted to take her with me. Introduce her to my mom, see her get along with my sisters. Witness how she’d be with my nephews and nieces - I knew how much she loved kids. And that’s when it hit me.

I’d given my heart to her. Somewhere between the morning coffees and afternoon runs, the nights where I’d rant about all of my silly problems and she actually listened to them - really listened, never making me feel bad about what could only be described as rich people problems.

All the innocent little gestures, and the not so innocent ones - when I discovered she was exactly the nasty slut I’d always dreamed of, the way she would randomly drop to her knees and suck me off, even while I was on the phone. Most times she didn’t even let me repay the favor. She just genuinely liked to blow me.

She also liked to play with me randomly, like when we were watching a movie and she mindlessly reached for my crotch, rubbing me until I got hard. It almost always ended in sex, and I just loved it.

I loved it, and I loved her, and the idea of her ever sharing this idyllic lifestyle with anyone else made me irrationally jealous.

And that’s how I knew it. I didn’t want to mess it up. But how could I not fuck this up?

Xxx

“Chris…” Her sweet voice called out to me, reaching my ears while I was hiding in my office, trying to get my thoughts in order so I wouldn’t just randomly blurt out what I was feeling for my best friend to my best friend.

To her credit, she didn’t try to force me to keep her company - but that only made me fall even deeper for her, leaving me a complete and utter mess while she went about her day as if nothing was wrong in the world.

“Yes?” I looked up to see her by the threshold, clearly reticent about invading my privacy. It made me smile, thinking back on all of the times my exes hadn’t been as understanding, even after I let them clearly know what I was needing.

“I made cupcakes, do you want me to bring you one?” The thought of her in the kitchen, baking a sweet treat just for me had my cock twitching in my pants. Biting my lips, I pushed away from my desk to finally get up and stretch my legs, taking advantage of the monitor to hide my hard-on.

“No, I’ll come eat them downstairs with you.” She smiled before leaving, and I soon trailed after her, walking into the kitchen to find the most delicious-looking little treats, just waiting to be devoured.

Much like her, I supposed.

I was reaching for one of them, already licking my lips in anticipation when something caught my eye, prompting me to raise my gaze and look at her again, but really look at her this time.

She was wearing an apron.

There was nothing inherently sexual about the damn thing, but the way she looked with it, going about her business in my kitchen like she owned the place… It just felt right, seeing her there.

And suddenly I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Y/N…” I started, leaving the cupcake back on the counter and brushing off the crumbs as I circled the kitchen island to go stand in front of her. She hummed before turning to meet me, smiling slightly to signal that she was listening to what I had to say.

But I didn’t know how to say it. So we just stood there, staring at each other until eventually her smile became a frown. “Chris, what’s going on?” I still couldn’t speak. Much to my absolute surprise though, she just sighed, wiping her hands on the apron while shaking her head, a knowing smile on her face.

“You’re stressed, aren’t you? You’ve been working so much, that’s why I thought the cupcakes would be a good idea,” she explained nodding towards the tray where her sweet treats laid. “They’re a reward and a break all wrapped in one delicious cake.”

The comment was like a punch to the stomach - or a scalding wave of desire rushing through my body, straight to my groin. The idea of her thinking about my needs and catering (quite literally) to them just did something to me, and I didn’t know how to explain it - I don’t think I understood it myself.

“But since they didn’t work…” she continued, blissfully unaware of the conundrum she had put me into. “I know something else that will definitely work.” And just like that, the woman dropped to her knees in front of me, reaching for my sweatpants before I could find a way to close the mouth that was hanging open.

“I guess I’ll grab a sweet treat for myself.” She looked so devious, small hand encircling my already pathetically engorged member, that all I could do was whisper an, “Oh, shit,” when she immediately wrapped her lips around it,  starting to suck me off without any preamble.

My fingers were white as I held onto the counter behind me to keep myself up. She looked so good, staring up at me with her lips wrapped around my dick, I felt like I was about to blow already.

Why did she have to be such a fucking tease?

“Oh, God,” I moaned when she managed to engulf the entirety of my member inside her throat, the choking noises getting to my head. My hand instinctively laced with her hair, first to hold her lips close to my navel, then to pry her completely off of my member.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned once she was able to speak, surprise written all over her features while I was still staring down at her slightly teary face and trying to find my voice.

“I-I have a problem.” There. I said it. I had finally made some progress in my goal to let her know what was going through my head. Only instead of curiosity, what I got was a confused expression from the woman still holding my dick, her eyes darting from my own to the member throbbing between her fingers.

“No, you don’t!” It would have been funny if I wasn’t so fucking frustrated. Yanking her by the hair, I complained, “Not that kind of problem!” pulling her to the living room so I could throw her on the couch, trying to ignore her moans of pleasure in the process.

I’d figured out pretty early on that she had a pretty serious hair-pulling kink, and if my plans of sitting down and having a level-headed conversation were ever in motion, they surely went out of the window the second she pulled my body down to cover hers and adjusted my cock so it would easily fill her.

“Son of a…” I groaned, letting my head fall down against her chest as the little vixen gleefully giggled underneath me, legs wrapped around my torso as she tried to thrust up and tempt me to move.

“Just wait a second,” I managed to reason, but she just shook her head.

“Fuck away your problem, Chris. Use me. I want you to.” Motherfucker. I really couldn’t catch a break with her. Just as she started to make me move again, my hand instinctively wrapped around her neck, lightly squeezing it just enough to get her to shut up.

“I wanna start a family with you,” I finally spilled, looking deep into her eyes as I tried to ignore that I was still balls deep inside of her. Her eyes widened, and now her mouth was the one hanging open.

I couldn’t really relish in it because she looked absolutely delicious and she felt stupidly heavenly to my throbbing dick.

A few seconds went by without as much of a reaction from her and I was about to pull out - despite still being achingly hard - but her legs held me tighter, stopping my plans of leaving her tight haven.

“You know…” She started to speak, a little out of breath, catching my attention as I finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye again. “When I first met you, I thought you were the epitome of a fuckboy.”

The unexpected sentence had me snorting, and then I just couldn’t stop laughing. Finally pulling away from her, she fixed her hair when she sat up and I did the same, shaking my head slightly as I rubbed my eyes.

Our own relative nakedness - well… mine, she was wearing her usual dress with no underwear under the damn apron - didn’t affect anything when I pondered over her words, until I decided to break the silence.

“I mean… I think I was?” She chewed on her bottom lip as she took in my response, analyzing it, weighing its validity in that gorgeous head of hers. I was nervous, but she hadn’t blew me off yet. And quite honestly? I’d do anything for that little hope that was growing inside of me.

“What changed?” Was her question, so unexpected I couldn’t help but question, “Huh?”

“What made you change?” It wasn’t an unwelcome inquiry, especially when the response became clear to me, lighting up my brain and warming my chest, spreading all over my body until I had no choice but to voice it.

“I realized I could have a future with you.” My smile was vulnerable but honest, and in her eyes, I could see that she knew that. When she threw one leg over my lap, straddling my hips, I allowed myself to breathe deeply again, leaning on the soft cushion while taking a hold of her ass.

“So, how are we gonna do this?” She non-nonchalantly asked, slowly rubbing herself against my still half-hard member. I groaned when I realized the implication of her words, knowing that the meaning paired with the feeling of her wet lips dragging along my cock would get it back up in no time at all. “You wanna do me right now?”

The brashness of the question made my eyes light up, as weird as it may sound. In that moment, it became clear just how perfect for me she really was, giving me what I needed exactly in the way I didn’t know how to ask for it.

“See? This is why I’m in love with you.” She rolled her eyes at that, making me laugh. I’d anticipated the gesture, I knew it’d take her longer to say it, but it was alright. The fact that she was willing me to give me a child was more than enough proof of her feelings for me, if her entire behavior ever since she moved in wasn’t already.

“Shut up and fuck me, Evans.” Throwing her back against the couch, she yelped in surprise when I took off my shirt and slapped the inside of her thigh, assuming my usual position of hovering over her smaller frame.

“Spread your fucking legs, darling. I’m gonna fuck you real good.” The way she bit her lip as I slowly penetrated her again showed me just how excited the prospect got her, and as I started to make good on my promise, her moans told me just as much.

“Holy fuck,” she commented as I pounded her ruthlessly, weeks of frustration and the rush of anticipation getting the best of me, and I was glad for the feeling of her nails biting into my skin because otherwise, I’d probably run over the edge of not even caring about her own pleasure as I chased mine.

“You gonna cum inside of me, honey? Make me a mom? Finally fulfill your dream of becoming a daddy?” Her words detracted me from my task of sucking bruises on the skin that was now mine to bruise, mine. I threw my head back, yelling a, “fuck yes,” as my hips sped up, desperate to fill her up, but I was determined to get her to cum before me.

“Say it,” she ordered, small hand circling my throat as best as she could, a throwback to what I’d done only moments prior. It wasn’t enough to choke me, but it did catch my attention. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Tears escaped the corners of my eyes as I blinked, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best of ways. “God, you are such a fucking tease…” She chuckled underneath me, giving my throat a squeeze before she raised up on her elbows to kiss my jaw.

“Better get used to it… daddy.” And just like that, I realized that I had yet another kink I hadn’t known about before her. Or maybe it was just her, and I was obsessed with the damn woman, painfully turned on by every little thing that she did.

“I’m gonna cum deep inside your little pussy, sweetheart,” I finally gathered myself enough to do as she asked me to. “You’re gonna belong to me forever now. Give me kids, make me happy. How do you like that?”

The mischievous grin she gave me told me everything. “I love it.” I knew this was her way of saying what she couldn’t yet voice, and I’d take it. I’d take anything she gave me, any chance I got to love this wonderful woman.

We came together, both riding our highs in deep ecstasy. I moaned when I felt myself empty all of my seed inside of her, incredibly excited about the prospect of starting our future together right then.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I cradled her face in my hands as I struggled to catch my breath, but she turned it to the side and pressed a kiss to my palm and I was breathless all over again. It was such a simple action, why did it get to me so much?

“You’re not too bad yourself, Chris.” I didn’t want to part with her warmth, so I just adjusted us on the sofa in a way that kept me inside of her, sighing contently as I realized I’d never have to sleep away from her again.

“I’m gonna stay right here all night.” I adjusted myself so I was resting my face on her boobs, perfectly happy to do just so, but by the tone of her voice, I knew she had a teasing smile when she called me an, “Old man.”

“And here I was, thinking you’d be able to go again.” Warmth filled my chest at the realization of just how badly she wanted me - just as much as I wanted her too. I was so damn ecstatic. Not even her pokes at my age would be able to affect me.

“Oh, darling… better get ready,” I warned as I adjusted myself to hover over her again, taking notice of the excited glint in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as she stared back at me. “I’m never gonna get enough of you.”

The next morning, I added a new kink to the list of random bits of information that were driving me slowly insane as I felt the overwhelming need to bend the woman that I now got to call ‘mine’ over the nearest piece of furniture and rail her until I had cummed deep inside her pussy: seeing her in my shirt while cooking breakfast.

Yeah, I was going to live a happy life by her side.

[mountswhore]

I saved this on my phone because I wanted to send it to you as a request, but I don’t remember if I did. So in case i did and you plan on writing it ignore this one. In case i didn’t please consider this as my request 🙈 somewhere around the line “I thought you didn’t want me” with Mason please if that’s alright. Idk what exactly I want as the plot, but I’d like him to say that to her. In case the line fits in another request you have, you could include it instead of writing a whole imagine with it alone 😊

𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 — mason mount

summary: you tell mason you don't want him whilst you're working from home, only to find hours later, you did in fact want him.

notes: requests are OPEN. i'm so sorry for this taking so long to come out, also it's quite short as i didn't have a lot of inspiration.

You'd been allowed to work from home due to an issue with transport, and it meant you weren't restricted to tight work attire for seven to eight hours of the day. You could wear the comfiest clothes imaginable, eat whenever you wanted, and relax. Not only all of that, but Mason had an off-day too. Mason, being the far-too-distracting man that he is, usually made working from home impossible. Which is why you planned to stay away from him until your work was complete.

You were in your home office at 9am, a tea in one hand as you looked through the notes that you'd taken from your meeting last week. You had to finish all of these tasks before the deadline on Wednesday, it being a gloomy Monday morning.

Mason had woken up an hour after you'd started working, finding something to drink before coming to pester you, his daily ritual. He'd slipped through the door and hooked his arms around your shoulders, staring at the work document on your screen. You'd written half a page, ticking off yet another task from the meeting notes.

"Morning, busy bee." He hummed, pecking your cheek and giving you some of his bed warmth. But you wanted to remain distraction free.

"Morning, Mase. I will see you at lunch, I really need to get this work done, okay?" You spoke softly, sipping your tea and keeping your eyes glued to the screen. Mason wasn't so satisfied with your answer. He wanted to have you in his arms all day, not caring about your work like you did.

"Come on, I know you want me." Mason giggled, and you almost lost your breathe. You were not going to give into temptation.

"No, I don't. I will see you on my lunch break, okay?" You spoke, keeping a polite tone in your voice so Mason knew you weren't being harsh.

He'd respected your wishes, giving you one last kiss on your head before leaving. And you couldn't help but feel bad, leaving him all alone on his day off. Mason was the sweetest man alive, and it tugged at your heart strings to know he was wandering around the house alone today.

Lunchtime had hit, and you decided to get some food before you finished working. When you'd left your office and walked to the kitchen, a Deliveroo bag was sat on the island, and you frowned. Usually Mason asks if you'd like anything when he orders, and vice versa.

"I got you a little something," Mason mumbled, holding a bowl in his hands and smiling at you from around the other side of the kitchen. You smiled and opened the bag, seeing your very own bowl of food. You were starving, and needed food to keep yourself going for the next few hours.

Before even eating it, you looked over at Mason and felt the guilt from earlier returning. He was leant over the counter, watching a video on his phone and eating, staying out of your way like you wanted. You'd approached him and given him a bear hug from behind, your arms squeezing around him and giving him all of the love your body had held in today.

"I thought you didn't want me." Mason smugly stated, turning around with a smile on his face. And you rolled your eyes, still holding him tightly against your chest.

"I always want you, you're just too distracting sometimes." You replied, kissing his jaw gently and giving him a lustful look. It could've ruined lunchtime for the both of you if Mason had given in, but he was feeling extra petty today.

"Shame. We could be having fun right now, but I know how hard of a worker you are. So get back to it." Mason chirped, kissing your cheek and walking past you to leave the kitchen, and leave you high and dry on your lunch break.

[sunatooru]

hi hello can i request a scenario/drabble for tsukishima, kuroo, oikawa, and akaashi with a fem!so who fainted during their heated argument? their argument would be about s/o being clingy and needy, and always talking and being noisy; turns out the reason she fainted was because of the fever she had early in the morning but didn't tell them about it in order not to be a 'bother' or 'nuisance'... then her fever got really worse during the argument and faints. *cue their boyfriends feeling like shit for all the rude things they said*

i am in need of some angst🪆

Sorry it took so long (I’ve had this since March 😭) but I hope it fills your angst need x

~

Warning: angst/comfort, gn!Reader, post Timeskip spoilers …are they dramatic?Yes

~

Tsukishima

It was rare you got to spend time with your boyfriend. Especially as he juggled working and playing volleyball. You wouldn’t miss the chance to be with him for a whole day, even if you woke up feeling like your head was being hammered.

You stayed wrapped around his arm, happily joining him on the sofa. You move to wrap your arms around his torso but he pushes your attempt away. You blink at him in confusion and try again, but fail when he stops you once more.

“Keiii, I want to cuddle..” you pout and he scoffs.

“What’s wrong with you? I finally get a day to relax and instead, I have you clinging to me and being annoying.” He glares at you, making you pull back and your throat tighten.

“I-“ you get cut off

“You what? You’re always trying to push yourself on me. It’s suffocating!” He gets up and walks towards the bedroom, you hot on his heels.

“Kei, can you please be a little quieter? All I want is to spend some time with you…you’re always so busy…” you defend but he kisses his teeth.

“Exactly. I’m always busy, so can you just let me chill out? I don’t need you whining in my ear and having you on me all the time! God, it’s like you need to annoy me!” He shouts at you.

You swallow harshly. Your chest feeling tight as his words ring in your ear. Your head pounding as you feel yourself heat up.

“Kei…I-I don’t…” you try to reach for him but he moves.

“Did you not just hear what I s- hey..hey!” You feel yourself lean forward as your eyes close.

You wake up when you feel something cool on your forehead, opening your eyes slowly to see Kei next to you.

“Kei…”

“Are you okay? You just fainted out of nowhere…why…and I said all those thing-“ you grab his hand.

“I wasn’t feeling well in the morning…I tried to push it away to spend time with you…” he looks at you guiltily, sighing and cupping your hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said. You’re not suffocating…everyday I come home, I can’t wait to see you. I don’t know why I said that…I’ve just been so overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I’m sorry baby. ” He confesses.

“I love you so much…I don’t even deserve you.” He whispers, biting his tongue as he looks at you.

“Hmm, I love you too…it’s okay. Can you just hold me, please.” You give him a small smile and he wraps you around him.

Kuroo

It’s that time of year where deadlines need to be met. You watch him scribble on papers and pull at his hair. You could see how tense he was and decided to bring him something hot to sip on.

“Tetsu, you need a break.” You slowly make your way into the room, carrying a hot mug and small snack.

“Can’t. Got to finish finalising the contract.” He informs, crossing out lines and writing again.

You huff and approach him, struggling to find a place to set the tray due to his messy desk.

“Come on. You need to atleast drink something, you’ve been at it for hours now. “ you press, causing him to clench his jaw.

He slams his pen against the desk, startling you before he faces you.

“I just said I need to finish this contract. Of course I’ve been working on it for hours. It’s important. You’ve been coming in and out of the room and disturbing me! I’m busy trying to do my job and you can’t even leave me alone for a few hours? Stop being so clingy all the time!” He fumes, eyes glaring at you as he starts to stand up.

You feel you mouth go dry as his words echo, your vision starting to fade as he finally stands, a rush taking over that you drop the tray. A loud smash of the mug rings in your ear.

“Are you serious- babe! What’s- babe!” Is the last thing you hear before your vision goes black.

You stir when you feel movement besides you. Slowly opening your eyes to see his leg bouncing nervously. He notices you looking and instantly grabs your hand.

“Have you not been eating? Were you waiting for me? Fuck! You fainted, I- what happened?” He rambles, eyes filled with regret.

“I felt a fever in the morning but I didn’t want to tell you because I knew how important your contract was.” You mumble, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, babe. I was so stressed and occupied with the deal that I forgot about you and said so many regrettable things. Please, I didn’t mean anything I said. You’re not clingy. I love that you’re always watching over me. I promise, I’ll take more care. Of you and me.” He apologises, bring your hand up to kiss it.

“Here drink this.” He hands you a mug, your eyes widening as your remember the one you dropped.

“I cleaned it, don’t worry. I’m sorry. Let’s just get you feeling better, okay. The contract can wait. You’re more important.” You give him a small smile and nod.

He stays besides you until you persuade him you’re better. He kisses and hugs you until you’re both laughing like before.

Oikawa

You always told each other where you were going before leaving. It was something you did for safety. Yet, recently he’d been leaving before you wake up and coming home late. You reasoned it was probably for the upcoming game. The game that would makes his dream come true. But it did hurt that that one routine had started to break.

You had woken up to your head pounding. Your body feeling hotter than usual and the bed empty for another morning. You attempt to shake it off and go on with the day.

You’re surprised when the door open around midday and see Tooru drop his bag.

“Tooru! You’re home!” You run up to hug him but he stops you.

“Sorry, I’m just really sweaty right now.” He kisses your forehead and runs towards the bathroom.

You smile to yourself, quickly fixing lunch, in hopes you would both enjoy together. But instead, you hear him run down and reach for the door again.

“Tooru, where are you going?” You stop him, confusion on your face.

“Ah I just need to go out again. You know the game and practice.” He states grabbing his bag.

“But you just got home. Look, I made you lunch too. You can practice tomorrow. I barely see you recently! You don’t even tell when you’re leaving…” you shout.

“No! I need to go. I need to practice more. I can’t be with you all the time, every day. You’re so needy. Can’t you see how important this is for me? What? I can’t even leave my own house without telling you?” He yells in frustration.

“That’s not the problem. You- you’re not even caring about your health. I just want to make sure you’re okay!” You feel yourself burn up again.

You get closer to him, hands shivering as you feel weak.

“Listen I’m going to training! Don’t wait-“ he’s walking out the door but you reach for him, collapsing against his back.

You hear mumbling and groan as you open your eyes.

“Tooru…” you call out and he’s there in a heartbeat.

“Do you know how high your temperature was? You were burning up! And then you fainted and I-I didn’t know what happening and god if anything happened to you I would never forgive myself.” He cries, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m okay..” you whisper but he shakes his head.

“No you’re not. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” He says, hurt.

“I don’t want to me a nuisance…and you haven’t really been here so I tried to shake off in the morning.” You reply.

“Since morning… please forgive me, baby. Please. I know I’ve been neglecting you and if I was here then you wouldn’t be feeling like this. I’m sorry for what I said. I know i can’t take it back but I wish I could, because it’s not true. You’re not needy. I’m just an idiot who keeps forgetting to appreciate you. Baby, I’m sorry for hurting you.” He sniffles, sitting next to you and pulling you into him.

“Tooru, you’ll get sick too.” You stress but he holds you tighter.

“Just a few more minutes. I’ve missed you too. I promise I won’t leave you and take care of you. Forever.” He kisses you deeply.

Akaashi

The best way you decided to get rid of the fever you woke up with, was to distract yourself doing anything else. You organised yourself desk, bed and even laundry. You could feel yourself getting warmer again and decide to find your boyfriend.

He’s in his study carefully editing a new clients work. He’s usually calm and collected but he’s been on edge due to the pressure from his boss. You watch him take off his glasses and rub his tired eyes. You sigh and walk in.

“Hi darling!” You say cheerfully, only to get a less enthusiastic response.

“You’ve been stuck to the desk the whole day. Come on, talk to me a bit. Think of it as a little break.” You wrap your arms around him from behind.

“I’m almost done. We can talk after.” He whispers.

“Keijiii, I’m so bored please. Plus you need to take some rest. Let’s just talk about something, like I don’t know, where we should travel to? Or maybe anything interesting that happened at work? Come on, I want to spend time with -“ you’re cut off by his stern voice.

“Gosh, why are you so talkative? I’m trying to focus on something and you keep talking and being noisy after I said we can talk later. It’s like you’re trying to annoy me on purpose!” He scrunches his fists and huffs.

“I-I’m just trying to look out for you. You know you need a break too. Don’t yell at me! Sorry I’m so talkative and trying to engage with my boyfriend, who clearly thinks I’m annoying.” You choke out, feeling a little woozy as you start to leave.

“Love, wait! I didn’t mean it…”

“Whatever…I should’ve just stayed in bed-“ you feel your eyes getting heavy, and your knees feeling weak.

“Y/n!”

You wake up a few minutes later to him wiping your face softly. You try to get up but he stops you.

“Easy, let me help.” You can hear the guilt in his voice as he sets your pillow.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you. I let my frustrations take over and put it on you. I want you to know that, I didn’t mean what I said. I should’ve paid more attention and seen you weren’t feeling well.” He fidgets with his hands, scared to look at you.

“Your words hurt, Keiji. Even if you were frustrated, just please take some breaks. You’re going to burnout if you don’t.” You cup his hands and he finally looks up.

“I know. I know, I’ll do better and listen to you. How do you feel?” He presses his hands to both your foreheads.

“Better now that you’re here.”

[ssa-sapphic]

words: 1.3k

type: fluff, angst

pairing: emily prentiss x (poc)fem!reader

prompts: “don’t touch me” & “i’ll be fine, just go”

warnings: slight sexual implications (not really detailed)

summary: this story follows the short affair of a woman (you) meeting emily prentiss during the few months she was undercover in paris. [i listened to paris by the 1975 while writing this and though it’s not at all based on that song, the vibes inspired it so listen to it if you want]

(a/n: i rushed this because i missed the deadline so i’m sorry in advance if it isn’t good.)

The romantic rendezvous that the two of you had shared those few short months was like something out of a fairytale. For a moment, everything was bright in your life, and happiness was at the forefront, no longer just a feeling, but rather, an everyday state of mind.

Mornings were filled with warm embraces as she danced her fingers across your bare skin, tracing the shapes that the sun made as its rays graced your back and shoulders. Blissful doves would sing from their usual place on the balcony, and she would sing in tune with them, allowing you to wake up in the most loveliest of ways.

Afternoons were the time dedicated to whatever adventures awaited you both on your daily gallivanting through the City of Love. Some days were for museums and coffee/tea dates, before walking hand in hand throughout the bustling streets. Other days were for taking photographs of each other at every destination that you so pleased, making memories in every corner you looked. You couldn’t count how many polaroids you had of the two of you kissing under the Eiffel Tower, or on a boat gliding down the Seine River.

Most evenings were filled with stargazing in the open fields of parks, or dinner reservations filled with wine tastings and longingful looks from across the table. You’d talk about life and family and everything good that overpowered the bad in your lives, and though she wouldn’t often go into detail about her home or past, it was that mysterious aura that drew you in from the beginning anyway.

As one can imagine, the nights were the most intimate of all. They were filled with much deeper connections and raw emotions that words couldn’t always express. Heated bodies often collided in passion, both euphoria and ecstasy filled the air as her soul combined with yours in the most powerful of ways. Every night was different due to the ever growing fondness of one another, and soon enough, rough touches and sighs of desperation soon turned into slow love and pleasurable sensuality.

Things were seemingly perfect (aside from the few moments when they weren't) and for the first time in a while, you let your guard down thinking that this feeling would last forever. You didn’t know if she felt the same in thinking about the future and what came next for the two of you, because though she always seemed deep in thought, she wouldn’t always speak her mind.

At one point she admitted that she feared the day she did so, somehow it would ironically be the day that everything came crashing down, because that's just how life treated her. You were skeptical of the thought but understood her apprehension, because you yourself didn’t want this dream to end.

Unfortunately though, her luck was just as she said, and your worst fear happened one random morning when you walked through the door with coffees and treats from the bakery down the block. Your world came crashing down exactly like she predicted it would the moment you overheard a conversation you probably shouldn’t have. The woman you grew to love was standing in your shared flat, packing a bag hurriedly while her phone sat mindlessly on the bed, the speaker unfortunately loud enough for you to hear a male’s voice on the other end.

“It’s time to come back, Emily.”

Those words were enough to make you gasp from the doorway, upon finding out that the name she gave you all those months ago was fake. You were quick to wonder if everything else you grew to know and love about her was real at all, or if it was all just a facade, an alias, to cover up the true identity now standing before you.

She looked up in surprise, quickly hanging up the phone before rushing over to you, but each step made the lump in your throat even more hard to swallow. She tried to wrap her arms around you, tears pooling both at her eyes and yours, but you quickly stepped back, wrapping your arms around yourself defensively. You weren’t sure what was going on, but one thing you were sure of: the woman before you was obviously not who you thought she was.

“Y/n, I can explain...” She stepped forward once more, seeing the devastation and shock written all over your face. She raised her hand to wipe the single tear that escaped your eye before it could lead to the sobs she feared would follow, but you stopped her.

“Don’t touch me.” Your strained voice was barely above a whisper, still too shocked from trying to process what was unraveling before you.

Your mind quickly flooded with the overwhelming thoughts of past experiences and trauma, remembering all those who too came and went, making you feel as if the problem was always you driving them away.

You thought this was different though, you had thought she was here to stay.

As if on instinct, your walls started to rebuild themselves, knowing that it would take much longer for them to be broken down the next time, if there ever would be a next time. She watched you painfully, knowing all about your past and wishing you wouldn’t compare her to those who had once hurt you, but she also knew it was fair of you to feel that way.

She ran her fingers through her hair, something you often did to her yourself to soothe her. However, this time it was in frustration, and you could see why. She wanted to comfort you and to put you first, but whatever it was that was taking her away from you was also of equal importance, and she was battling within herself.

“I’ll be fine.” You assured her, with little to no emotion, knowing that you were lying to yourself. “Just go.” You stepped out of the pathway to the door, hinting that it was time for her to leave.

You didn’t actually want her to leave of course, and she knew that. You were just afraid of the pain that was slowly creeping up on you from realizing that your fairytale was finally coming to an end, and your Parisian love affair was now over. Soon, she would just become another person who entered your life and made it better, only to abandon you in the end.

She wanted so desperately to stay there, hold you tightly, and never leave. She ached to kiss your tears away and assure you that everything you two had the past few months was indeed real, and that she would come back for you when she could. However, her team back in the states needed her, and she knew she had to rush given the circumstances regarding a little boy from her dark past.

So she grabbed her things before pressing her lips to yours in one final kiss. One that wasn’t sweet and soft like all your others, but rather, bittersweet and salty from the mix of fresh tears cascading down your faces.

“I love you.” She finally declared to you for the first time after pulling away, though it didn’t have the effect you wished it would given that it was said in the tone of a goodbye. “And I’m so sorry.” She whispered, looking right into your eyes with the sincerest of expressions.

You physically couldn’t say it back as much as you wanted to, which only hurt the two of you more. You just stood there, looking at her and hoping she could read your mind.

It wasn’t long after that you heard the door shut behind her, and the pieces of your heart that she helped you put back together ultimately shattered to the floor. The lingering scent of her delicate perfume was the last trigger that caused your sobs to escape, from the emotions and initial shock finally catching up.

Everyday seemed like forever when she was with you and you never had any doubt as to what the future held for you both.

Now, however, you laid curled up on the bed wondering if it was all a fool’s dream. ‘Cause frankly, you didn’t know if you’d ever see the woman who changed your life again, and that thought alone scared you.

Emily could hear your sobs as she fled down to the street and hauled a cab, and her heart broke as she put her bags in the trunk and looked up at the balcony, hoping you’d see her off. When you didn’t come, she refrained from running back up there to you and instead got into the car.

As the driver pulled off, she decided right then and there that no matter what happened when she got back home, she was coming back for you. Emily was determined not to leave you behind because you also turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to her, and she’d be damned if she didn’t go to Paris and find you again.

taglist: @sweetprentiss @originalvampireslut @ssajemilyprentiss @buckleyhans @arigotssomekinks @rookie-prentiss @ellcsgreenaway @lovelyy-moonlight @romanoffprentiss @leftoverenvy @onlyalittlebumblebee @maxinish @penemilys @kgkoana @spencers-renaissance @alexbllake @naturalxselection @reids187iq @ughilovesupergirl @crindy123 @avogotyournumber @yipyipjemily @ssgay-jareau @hotch-girl

note: if you have not filled out the new and updated taglist yet (located above or in my pinned) please do! especially if your url has changed since my last one

[iluvchanniesposts]

Feelings.

this is something i dreamt during a nap and thought it would be cute to write lol.

Living with my 8 best friends was something else. As much as I love living with them, it’s hard to be around a certain person. The way he cares for others including me, and the way he carries himself just draws me to him. Unfortunately, no one knows about these feelings I have. Therefore, I have to bottle it up which is difficult since I’m around him every day.

All the boys had a day off which meant they were all home for the day and evening. My mood had been off all day due to family problems back at my home town, plus college work on top of that too. Although I felt like blowing, I wanted to make it seem like nothing was wrong around the others.

Majority of the day was spent in my room alone, or on the sofa scrolling through my phone. Minho had called me out of my room to watch a film with them all on the big L shaped sofa. I obliged, but only so they didn’t become suspicious. The film was pretty boring, not bad but just not exactly my type of film. I was sat on the end of the sofa, resting my head in my hand as I watched the screen anxiously. Deadlines were all due in this week and I couldn’t shake the thought of them from my mind.

Instead of interrupting the film, I simply got up and walked back to my room. My laptop was already open on some work since I had been doing it prior to the film, I sat down in front of it and carried on typing away. A faint knock at the door was heard behind me as I muffled a faint “come in” with a straw in my mouth. Water was the only thing giving me energy at this time.

“Hey, you okay? You just left.” Seungmin popped his head in the door which was half open.

“I’m good, just got lots of work to do.” I fake smiled at him but he seemed convinced anyway. I was frustrated, not because of college, but because I was in a bad mood and wanted to enjoy a rare day off with my best friends. Seungmin left and I spun my chair back around to carry on with college work.

Some time had passed, maybe even three hours since I had left during the film. I hadn’t even left my room to speak to any of the boys, just tapping away on my laptop. Hunger took over my emotions, I saved my work as a draft and left the room.

“Hey stranger!” Hyunjin joked as he ruffled my

hair. I laughed a little and started cooking my own food

“Are you eating with us tonight?” He questioned me. I looked over my shoulder to see Changbin and Jeongin looking at me too.

“Um, I can do I suppose.” I pursed my lips and turned back around to the stove. The food was okay, after cooking I didn’t have much of an appetite so I left about half of it. I washed my dishes up after an awkward dinner with everyone and headed back for my room.

My eyes started to feel heavy after some time, I didn’t even bother checking the time every now and then. It sounded quiet outside of my room, the boys had probably gone to bed already. At least I thought so.

*knock knock*

“Come in!” I said loud enough for them to hear me, but not too loud so I wake the others.

“Hey, you’re still up?” Chan questioned as he entered my room and sat on the bed next to me.

“College work.” I pointed at my screen and laughed sadly.

“You need a break.” He insisted.

“No time for breaks I’m afraid!” I shrugged, looking back at my screen.

“What’s been going on? Talk to me.” He leaned forward slightly and my heart beat started to fasten. All I could do was look away, speaking about my feelings was never a strong point of mine.

“I think my mind has just been doing overtime and it’s been affecting my sleeping schedule.” I confessed. He sighed and sat back a bit.

“I know you’re stressed, but you don’t have to make it worse by pressuring yourself with all this work. Not sleeping won’t help either, you know you can always talk to us. And if you feel like you can’t, you can always talk to me privately.” He nodded. I smiled a little and just nodded my head.

“Thanks Chan, but you’re always so busy and I don’t want to burden you. I’m so tired but don’t know how to help myself.” Tears started welling in my eyes as I looked at my lap. I hated them seeing me cry, especially Chan.

“Don’t cry please. Shut your laptop off and get some rest for tonight, you have all of tomorrow to finish it off.” He rested a hand on my shoulder and I immediately warmed to his touch.

“I don’t have time.” I looked at him and he stood up. He came behind me, one hand resting on the back of my chair and the other was over my shoulder, saving my work and shutting my laptop off. The sudden closeness of us two made my breath hitch in my throat, I suddenly forgot how to breath. His sweet scent and minty breath from previously brushing his teeth.

He stood me up and hugged me.

“Thanks Chan. I can always count on you.” He pulled away from the hug and smiled at me. We held eye contact for a while until it became uncomfortable, his eyes looked to my lips and mine looked to his. Almost as if his feelings were reciprocated, we both leaned in slowly and our lips finally touched.

“I could tell for ages that you liked me.” Chan confessed. My cheeks went bright red.

“Why didn’t you do anything about it?” I asked shyly and slightly disappointed.

“I wanted you to tell me yourself, but you’re too stubborn.” He smiled as he pulled me in for another hug.

“Will it be awkward now?” I asked worriedly.

“No. Because I like you too.” He said as my face lit up.

[soonah]

convenience store | sakusa kiyoomi

You watched as the hour hand moved towards the number twelve and wondered when the hell this goddamn job would end.

It’s officially midnight and there were no customers in sight. You were bored out of your mind and your eyes were getting droopy due to fatigue. It had been an exhausting day after all. 

You had seven classes, three of which had surprise quizzes and the rest having group activities you were not in the mood to work on. If that wasn’t enough, you were also paired with students who did not give a single fuck about the activities so you were stuck doing them all. Added to the fact that your research paper was conveniently deadlined on that same day with no prior notice and you were forced to cram everything. 

You needed a fucking break. And that’s when your eyes found a book partially hidden under the counter by a bunch of old newspapers. Picking it up, you read the title on the cover. 

You dived in knowing absolutely nothing about it, which was a huge mistake. A couple of chapters later, you were now bawling your eyes out. Large sobs escaped from your lips which you didn’t care to contain since no one was in the store besides you anyways. At least, that’s what you thought. 

Across the counter stood a tall guy wearing a face mask, looking down at you with a look mixed with confusion and disgust. He was holding two bottles of alcohol and a whole pack of tissue. You didn’t notice him standing there at all since you were so invested with the book. He didn’t even do anything to catch your attention either. He just stood there, not knowing what to do.

Suddenly, you see a handkerchief in front of you. Following the arm that held it, you looked up and saw a man in a face mask, narrowing his eyes at you.

Flustered, you reluctantly accepted his handkerchief and wiped your wet eyes with it. You put the book down, bookmarking it with a receipt, and immediately rang his stuff up, trying to distract yourself from the humiliation.

As he was about to go, you remembered his handkerchief. 

“Wait,” you said and he paused. You stupidly held out the handkerchief towards him but he only shuddered and said, 

“Keep it. I don’t want anything to do with it,” with that, he officially left the store.

You stood there, dumbfounded, even after he left. Well, that was embarrassing. You hoped you’d never see him again. But of course, life doesn’t work that way, unfortunately. 

He kept coming back days later, almost everyday, exactly at midnight. He would buy random shit like a pack of gum or a single bottle of water. He even bought one pack of gummy bears for some reason. You thought it was weird but didn’t think too much of it. You’ve seen worse. 

One day, he came as usual, but now he was with a guy. Based on their conversations, which you had no choice but to hear cause they were the only customers there and his friend was so loud, you deduced that they were close friends. 

You thought it kinda surprising that this guy who you’ve only spoken to once, actually had friends since he seemed to hate humanity as far as you were concerned. 

His friend went to the counter first, noticing you just standing there and thought that was the perfect opportunity to strike a conversation. He asked for your name and you answered him. He talked to you about random things and you conversed with him easily, laughing at all the dumb things he said. 

Suddenly, a bottle of water was slammed on the counter, startling you both. It was the masked guy. Even with a mask on, you could tell he was annoyed. About what, you had no idea. Though, his friend clarified it for you. 

“So this person is why you randomly keep on going out at midnight, huh, Kiyoomi?” 

You didn’t know how to react with that information. You looked alternately at both of them in shock. 

“Huh?” 

Now, the guy called Kiyoomi was struggling to open his wallet. You swear you saw his ears turn red. 

His friend gave you a smirk, and you just stood there awkwardly, trying to process what you just heard. 

Kiyoomi finally opened his wallet, took out a bill, and slammed it on the counter before rushing out of the store. His friend turned to you and winked, took the bottle of water and followed him while yelling out a “wait for me you lovesick bastard!” 

Everything went so fast you were stunned. All you remembered was that Kiyoomi was kinda cute not gonna lie, and you probably looked forward to seeing him again. 

And also, he forgot his change. 

[landinoandco]

|Shutter speed|

Chapter two : A New Beginning

{Lando Norris x Reader}

Summary: A photographer. A pair of F1 drivers. Triangles. A sticky situation of morals and fighting fate. What could go wrong?

Warnings: none :) apart from a mention of grief and passing of a loved one

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 2.9 k 

A/n: welcome to the second chapter of 'Shutter speed.'

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Previous chapters: Chapter one

Chapter two: A new beginning

By the time Georgie had raced home, it had stopped raining and the sun was beginning to fight its way through the mass of clouds that had filled the sky. The journey home had given Georgie plenty of time to think - to mull everything over about the crazy afternoon she had just endured. They had finally booked their first event since lockdown, the insanely attractive stranger she had met in the coffee shop but somehow it all ended back to a person she thought she had finished thinking about - not that you ever could. Her Theo. Her lovely Theo. 

Theodore was her childhood sweetheart. Theo was everything to her, llike Georgie was everything to him. They had their whole future planned out: travelling around the world and experiencing different cultures, photographing their entire experience and showcasing the beginning of their journey through life on an Instagram they had set up. Before settling down and starting a family of their own. Together. It was going to finish like all the fairy tales did...

And everybody lived happily ever after.

In hindsight, they had jinxed themselves before they had even started, not long after they had finished their A - levels and about to start their next chapter at Uni - Theo had fallen ill. Georgie refuses to acknowledge the illness for she believes it shouldn’t be the way he is remembered, instead reminiscing on the short but meaningful life he lived. Theo died not long after he was diagnosed, leaving Georgie behind with a new and tainted meaning to happily ever after because if it wasn’t with him then what did it truly mean? 

As they say hindsight is a wonderful thing.

Even now, 5 years on, 23 years of age, she is still plagued with the memories and the thoughts of everything they could have had but for some reason the universe was against it all. She hated to think of herself as unlucky because she was blessed to have met Theo in the first place. 

Shaking the memories from her head, she unlocked the apartment door and trudged through - hanging her coat and bag on the hooks then making her way over to the breakfast bar. On top was a fluorescent post-it note that read: “Popped into the city to pick up some new lenses for the cameras. Fill you in when I get back. Fancy getting a takeaway tonight to celebrate? Love you lots ~ Maisie.” 

A takeaway was exactly what was needed. She thought. And a nice warm shower. 

The thing Georgie loves about showers is that they give her the ability to find an answer and solution to pretty much everything and anything. She spent a lot of time in the shower after Theo passed, it was the only thing she could justify enjoying. Striping her clothes off and chucking them into a pile on the floor, she reached into the shower to turn it on - the water immediately rushing out and crashing loudly onto the floor. As soon as she was happy with the temperature, she stepped in - letting the warm water droplets wash all of her worries away. It was the only thing that she felt helped her relax; come to terms with everything she was feeling. 

Her first and main worry was what they were going to do after Goodwood. If they didn’t find consistent work soon they were going to run out of money - they were lucky to have made some good investments and savings leading up to this point to have coped through lockdown. 

Georgie grabbed the shampoo and rubbed it thoroughly through her long waves. She had been to Goodwood a few years back -  Theo had taken her. It was the best date she had ever been on - she remembered it as clear as day. They had found an empty bench to sit on next to the hill the cars climbed in the ever popular annual hill climb - it was there and then they had decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together and travel the world. 

Stepping back under the water, she let the water take the shampoo away, watching as the bubbles slipped through the drain. Theo had been a massive formula one fan - dragging Georgie into the sport as well. Jenson Button had been his favourite driver and McLaren his favourite team so naturally that was hers as well. As soon as he passed Georgie had nothing to do with the sport - she refused to watch it and stopped keeping up with the teams. 

She reached for the conditioner bottle, pressing her lips together in a tight line. All of this thought about Theo and the racing world she turned her back on - a slight regret forming in the pit of her stomach, was she ready to go back to it? She remembered the atmosphere of Goodwood when she had been, people from all over the world gathered to celebrate the one thing they had in common: their love for cars. She was slightly envious of the people who got to travel the world, following in the car's tyre tracks and capturing the moments you only get to experience once in a lifetime. 

Georgie paused and furrowed her eyebrows, she was struck with an idea. Whether it was absolutely brilliant or outright stupid and unrealistic, she was yet to find out. Hoping out of the shower and grabbing her towel, she made her way to her room. It was worth a look, she supposed, there was no harm in that. Once she was dressed, she sat at her desk and turned on her laptop; begging fate to be on her side today. 

“Honey, I’m home.” Called a voice from the kitchen. 

“Hey sweetie.” Georgie shouted back, “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” 

She pulled up the McLaren careers page, her mouse hovering over the view jobs link. Georgie was ready to travel the world. She was ready to experience life again - after all it was Theo’s dying wish that she completed everything they were setting out to do. Perhaps she was selfish for not coming to this conclusion sooner. 

She clicked. 

Taking one last deep breath, Georgie placed her hands to her forehead and moved her face closer to the screen as she read through the roles. Tyre performance engineer. No. Finance analyst - production. Definitely not. Hope was diminishing rapidly even though it was as she had expected. The chances of finding anything suitable were low. She was coming to the bottom of the list when a role jumped out at her. But not impossible apparently. 

Lead photographer - team. 

And the deadline was Tuesday at 11.59 pm. They had the best part of 6 hours to complete this application. It was going to be tight but possible. 

She jumped up and rubbed her hands over her face in disbelief. Running her hands through her hair, she sat back down - hardly being able to keep still. It was only an application advert - many people were going to be applying. She thought as she exhaled loudly. More experienced people. Skimming through the description and requirements, she almost felt like she was dreaming. It was perfect. The role was to travel with the whole team and capture every moment to later be used on social media and advertising. 

“Everything alright in here?” Maisie poked her head around the door. She was faced with an almost tearful Georige. Her words almost trailed off.

“Do you want to travel the world?” Georgie asked her, her voice wavering slightly.  Maisie seemed taken aback as she moved into the room and sat on Georgie’s bed. “I’m sorry - what? Have you forgotten what’s been going on recently?”

“With a formula one team, Mclaren to be precise.” Georgie corrected and moved aside so Maisie could see the screen. Silence fell between the pair as Maisie read on, Georgie’s leg had started bouncing in anticipation. Minutes later she was met with a frown. “That’s not quite how I had imagined you would react.” Georgia mumbled, sighing. She mirrored her friend's expression, chewing on her bottom lip. 

“Before we start fantasizing, I just want to make sure you’re ok with this.” Maisie said softly, taking one of Georgia’s hand in hers. Georgia nodded slowly, rubbing her thumb over her friend’s hand. “This would be his dream. I know he’s watching us - he really is looking out for us, Maise. I want to do it for him.”  

Maisie’s smile grew, “As long as you’re sure. Come, let’s discuss it over take away and I will explain how this weekend is going to work.” Georgie stood up, grabbing her laptop and a notebook, “One thing is for sure. We are going to need one hell of a portfolio.” 

It was now Sunday - the final day at Goodwood. 

To say the rest of their week leading up to this point went smoothly would be a lie. In the end it all got a bit complicated. They submitted their application at 10:58 pm that Tuesday evening - due to it only being a singular role they applied as their business in hope that the combined experience would set them apart from other candidates. Wednesday they spent the day prepping for Goodwood - trying out the new lenses and practising photographing cars they found around London. They were going to watch the Goodwood livestream on Youtube Thursday and Friday to see what they were going to be faced with that Saturday. Until Maisie received a call. It was Mclaren and they had gotten through to the interviews - all taking place that Thursday afternoon on teams. As it turns out, they wanted to have hired someone for the role by Friday in order to be ready for the British Grand Prix the following weekend. 

“I mean it makes sense,” Maisie said, blowing her coffee to cool it down before taking a long sip. “It is their home grand prix after all.” 

Georgie chuckled, “It’s just, I feel like if we were to explain to anyone they would think we were making this up. It’s all happening so quickly.” 

That Friday, ahead of their debut at Goodwood on the Saturday, they got the call. According to the lady Maisie spoke to, it was very close between them and another candidate but the fact they were working at Goodwood tipped the scales in their favour. 

“And.” Maisie started. “We are going to meet with a man called Zac Brown on Sunday, he is the CEO of McLaren Racing-” Georgie was very lucky to have Maisie as she was the businessman - or women in this case - out of the pair. Her people skills were unmatched, how she did it Georgie would never understand. 

Now on Sunday, Georgie was quite sad to see it coming to an end. The atmosphere was one that she had never quite experienced before - it was one that filled her with pride and adoration; something she hadn’t felt in a long time, not to this extent anyway. The whole weekend, a beaming smile had been plastered onto her face - so much so that her facial muscles were beginning to ache. The whole community of people were ecstatic to be there, watching on in excitement as a sport that had missed the company of their crowds opened its doors once again. It wasn’t long before she had agreed to meet with Maisie ahead of their meeting with Zac Brown that she found herself walking up the infamous hill. The loud buzz of conversation seemed to fade, instead the only sound she could hear was the rumble of engines as they came cruising by. She stopped at a clearing where a bench stood proudly, smiling softly to herself as she slung her camera strap over her shoulder, stuffing her hands into her trouser pockets. It hadn’t aged a day. 

Lando Norris had decided to take a break from the main McLaren marquee - he had just finished his final drive of the day and was looking for some time to reflect on the weekend he had just had after having the honour of driving the three cars that Aryton Senna won McLaren their championship titles. It had been a tough season leading up to this point - after Carlos left to join Ferrari he felt this year all eyes would be on him. Many expected Lando to fall into the shadow of his new teammate Daniel Ricciardo, everybody expected him to fade back into the background. Perhaps that was why he trained so hard during the winter break - he had pushed himself right up to the limit. Lando wanted to prove to himself more than anyone else that he was a good driver and he did have potential to fight those at the top, after the taste of a podium in Austria - he was hungry for more. Even as a young boy during his karting career, Lando put pressure on himself - to strive to be the best on the grid - sometimes it meant he forgot to enjoy himself because he was so worried about what other people thought about him. 

He had reached a clearing past the trees. All weekend he had kept half an eye out for the girl at the coffee shop. Part of him was disappointed not to have seen her, he really wanted that second chance. He came to a stop and checked his watch - it wasn’t long until Zac wanted him back; he mentioned briefly about a pair of photographers joining the team. They would be replacing his friend Jason after he decided that travelling just wasn’t practical anymore, who could blame him, his first child was on the way and he wanted to be there with his wife every step of the way. 

Lando brushed a hand through his curls, casting his gaze around before he would make his way back. When a bench caught his eye or more specifically the girl sitting on the bench. She sat with a content smile dancing on her lips, a reminiscent glaze coated her eyes. He took a step towards her, there was something familiar about her. It was like his feet were frozen in place - his brain was telling him to go back but his gut told him to stay put. He stood for a minute or two before it hit him - square in the face and quite frankly he couldn’t believe his luck. It was the girl from the coffee shop. Right in front of him. It was now or never. Lando took a calming breath before going and sitting next to her. 

Georgie was rudely pulled from her thoughts when a person sat down on the bench next to her. She moved her head slightly to see who the intruder was when her heart stopped. Recognition dawned on her face. Georgie knew instantly he had recognised her as the corners of his mouth twitched into a shy smile. “Hi.” His tone silvery and almost breathy. 

“Hey.” She beamed back, “I’m Georgie.” She said, gazing up at him, admiring the way the sun caught around his halo of curls giving them an almost angelic glow.

“Lando.” He told to her, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. Neither of them could quite believe that they were sitting with each other. 

“I - uh - It’s a wonderful day for it, isn’t it.” Georgie had panicked. She didn’t know what else to say and her mother used to always say:  ‘if in doubt talk about the weather.’ It was something along those lines anyway.  Silently cursing herself, she cringed at her awkwardness only to hear him chuckle at her comment. 

“It’s much better now the rain has cleared off.” Lando instantly felt relaxed around her, he didn’t know what it was. Perhaps it was that she seemed just as socially inadequate as he was. “So Georgie.” He savoured the way her name rolled off his tongue. “What brings you to Goodwood? I hope you don’t mind me saying this but I heard you talking about it before you rushed off the other day.” 

Georgie inched closer, almost leaning into the comfort and warmth he seemed to provide. “My friend and I are photographers and she somehow got us into working for the Goodwood Festival of Speed brand. I still don’t quite know how she did it, for some reason she didn’t want to talk about it.” She trailed off, a pink tinge creeping onto her cheeks as she had come to a rather astonishing conclusion. The corner of Lando’s mouth lifted at her innocence. “Anyway.” She moved on quickly. “As it turns out I am also here to meet my new boss.” 

“It’s almost like it was meant to be.” Lando quirked. “Who are you working for now?” 

“I’m the new photographer for the McLaren formula one team.” She explained, pride laced in her tone. Lando’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open in disbelief before he caught himself. Composed his expressions and stated very plainly...

“I’m Lando Norris. I drive for the McLaren formula one team. As it turns out you and I are about to attend the same meeting.” 

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