#it's that the tone of the titles does not match the tone of the book

[diphthongsfordays]

Hello, I am back on my nonsense!

In honor of beginning the process of rewriting Deathdancer, here are some highlights from my Very Serious Chapter Titles, which I apparently wrote at one point and then completely forgot. I'd like to say I wrote these in an insomnia-induced haze, but I'm pretty sure I just struggle to write tone-appropriate chapter titles, lol.

The forger

Half-baked Backup Plan

The Forger

Stabbing Makes You Die

asdf

Forget Legacy, I Have an Assassin

You Have a Bigger Assassin

Don’t Panic

Unfortunately Alive

No, You Can’t Take a Nap in the Throne Room

[chocolatepot]

Hi! Can you elaborate on "Fuck GRRM's committment to 'historical realism' without knowing anything about medieval social history"? I would love to know about what GRRM gets wrong about medieval gender roles, specifically.

So Cersei learns at an early age that she has no agency, her only value is producing heirs and is barred from traditional routes of power so she has to use underhanded methods such as influencing men with sex or using underhanded magical means. I would love an explanation on why this doesn't reflect medieval queen consorts and noble women irl.

Sure! The basic summary is: GRRM "knows" the things that everyone "knows" about the middle ages, which are broad stereotypes often reflective of a) primary sources that deserve a critical reading rather than being taken at face value and b) the judgements of later periods making themselves look better at the medieval period's expense.

As Shiloh Carroll argues, building on the work of Helen Young, “readers are caught in a ‘feedback loop’ in which Martin’s work helps to create a neomedieval idea of the Middle Ages, which then becomes their idea of what the Middle Ages ‘really’ looked like, which is then used to defend Martin’s work as ‘realistic’ because it matches their idea of the real Middle Ages.”

Since you're mainly interested in Cersei here, I'd strongly recommend a book: Queenship and the Women of Westeros: Female Agency and Advice in Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire, edited by Zita Eva Rohr and Lisa Benz. It's an excellent read and speaks to exactly what you're asking about. The tone of the book is very positive and non-judgemental when it comes to GRRM and his depictions of women on the whole, but I think some of this is rhetorical positioning to not seem like "mean angry academics jumping on fiction for not being accurate," as the actual content turns the reader to thinking about how much agency and power medieval queens had in different European societies and how little of that worked its way into GRRM's worldbuilding.

It's true that women typically didn't inherit titles and thrones in their own right, and that they were usually given in marriage for political/dynastic reasons. However, they weren't seen as brood mares whose only duty was to pop out sons: both queens and noblewomen had roles to play as household managers, counselors, and lieutenants, actively participating in the ruling of their domains and in local and international diplomacy (women in political alliances were not just pawns sent to a powerful man's bed, but were to act as ambassadors for their families and to pass information back and forth), and they had to be raised with an understanding of this so that they could learn to do it. Motherhood was very important, don't get me wrong, but it's a mistake to assume as pop culture does that a wife's foremost duty being to provide heirs for her family meant that she was ONLY seen as a mother/potential mother.

Catelyn is a great example of what was expected of women in these positions. But in the books, Catelyn is basically the only woman who inhabits this role, and the impression given is that she's exceptional, that she's just in charge of the household because she's so great at it that Ned allows her to be his partner, and that he listens to her advice because she happens to be a wise person in his orbit - and also that Ned is exceptional for giving so much power to a woman, because in the world of ASOIAF, it takes an especially good man to do this. In GRRM's view of the medieval world, realpolitik and the accumulation of power are the most important things, so men in Westeros are extremely unlikely to give up any authority to their wives, even though this is historically inaccurate.

Cersei, on the other hand, is supposed to be a more realistic depiction of what would happen to an ambitious medieval woman. There's a chapter titled "Queen of Sad Mischance: Medievalism, “Realism,” and the Case of Cersei Lannister" in the book I've rec'd, and it deals with why this is problematic extremely well. (This is the source of the quote at the top of this post.) In it, Kavita Mudan Finn argues that Cersei embodies pretty much every medieval trope for the illegitimate wielding of power by a woman. She underhandedly gets people killed for opposing her, she seduces men into doing her bidding, she advances her family's interests and her own at the expense of the realm. She's made sympathetic through fannish interpretation and Lena Headey's performance, but in the text she's an evil woman doing evil things. Even when she gets to be regent for her son - a completely legitimate historical position that allowed women to handle the levers of power almost exactly like a king - she continues to do shitty things and not be taken seriously because she's just not good at ruling.

But even before then, from a medieval perspective she had access to completely legitimate power that she didn't use: she'd have had estates giving her a large personal income, religious establishments to patronize (giving her a good reputation as a pious woman and people she'd put in high positions being personally loyal to her), artists and writers to patronize as well, power over her household, men around her listening to her counsel. That she doesn't have that is a reflection of GRRM either deciding these things don't really exist in Westeros in order to make it a worse world than medieval Europe and justify Cersei feeling she had to use underhanded means of power, or not knowing that they were ordinary and unexceptional because he has a good working knowledge of the politics of the Wars of the Roses but little to no knowledge of social history beyond pop culture osmosis, and, imo, little to no interest in actual power dynamics.

There are a lot of books I'd recommend on this subject. There's a series from Palgrave Macmillan called "Queenship and Power" and nearly all the books in it are THE BEST. Theresa Earenfight's Queenship in Medieval Europe is a very readable introduction to the situations of queens in European societies across the continent. She also has a book, Women and Wealth in Late Medieval Europe, that also addresses non-royal women's power. I'm also a huge fan of English Aristocratic Women, 1450-1550: Marriage and Family, Property and Careers, by Barbara Harris, which really emphasizes the "career" aspect of women's lives as administrators and diplomats.

[babysukiii]

not her type

// leighton is a bit sweet on you (the librarian’s student assistant). you begin to fall for the blonde, until you hear her say something that causes you to reconsider your feelings. //

warnings: leighton is an idiot when it comes to emotions, reader is oblivious but so is leighton, misunderstandings, mutual pining don’t let the title fool you, jealousy (leighton gets jealous), kinda angsty

(i changed my username i was @fckoffjakegyllenhaal)

DISCLAIMER; english is not and has never been my first language. i usually edit my works well but don’t have time anymore. sorry for any spelling errors!

leighton didn’t have the most common sense when it came to dating. she was a genius, and she was the smartest person she knew. she was top of most of her classes, and she knew she was beautiful. though when it came to emotions, and her love life, leighton was nearly hopeless. to put it frankly, she’s an idiot when it comes to love.

when leighton first met you, she already wasn’t off to a very good start. she sauntered into the library in her expensive heels, along with her matching skirt and blazer. as soon as you saw her you were extremely intimidated by her. you were only able to attend this school because your grandma had left you a nice wad of money in her will. even with what she left you, you still had to get a job at the school’s library to pay off the remaining student loans. but you knew you didn’t fit in here. the school was full of pristine, preppy, rich kids. like her.

“i need to rent a copy of the black sun.” she deadpans, as she stands up straight in front of the counter. “then maybe you should go and get it so i can check it out for you?” you suggest in a sardonic manner, and the blonde looks visibly stunned by your careless tone. “okay, i’m assuming it’s your first day here or something, but it’s literally your job to find the books students need.” she points out, and you quirk a brow. “no, my job is to keep the library organized, and help students when they ask for help. key word ask. which you didn’t; you waltzed in here like princess diana and ordered me to get you a copy of ‘black sun’.” you remind her, your words as hot as the fire in your tone.

that’s when leighton takes you in; your long curly hair, and high rise jeans. that top your wearing fits you nicely, and for some reason the fact that you aren’t hurdling to do what she says, leaves a fluttering sensation in her belly. “hey, you don’t have to be such an asshole! excuse me if i thought someone who works in the library was competent enough to get me the correct copy of a book. my mistake.” she fires back, and you shake your head.

“i am plenty competent enough, blondie. i just don’t help self entitled jerks who think the world has to stop at their convenience.” you retort, “now, if you excuse me, i’m taking my first break now. come back in half an hour.” you deadpan; your voice is dry, and leighton’s eyes widen in shock. “you can’t just do that!” she shrieks, and if she wasn’t such a mean girl, you would’ve thought the way her voice changed in pitch was cute as hell. you smirk, “just did.”

leighton lets out a huff, “fine! i’ll just get it on pdf, jerk face.” her lame insult makes you bite back a laugh as she storms away. you can’t help but watch her hips move as she leaves; god, she’s hot but so fucking rude. maybe this job isn’t so bad; getting to tick off straight, prissy girls like blondie was going to the highlight of your career. though you put aside a copy of black sun later that day, just in case she comes back.

which she does.

she returns the next day with this determined look on her face. “okay, yesterday i was a bit of a bitch.” she starts carefully, and you quirk a brow in a bit of interest as you look up from your phone. “a bit?” you question, and her fake smile falls immediately. “i’m trying to be nicer now.” her stony expression causes you to sigh. you reach inside the desk drawer where you hid the copy away for this exact moment.

her eyes nearly widen for a split second as she realizes you did in fact retrieve her the copy of the book she needed. “so you did do it for me.” her voice sounds a bit different now; a little lighter, but you try not to dwell on it. “yeah, well, it’s my job, right?” you respond dryly, as you begin to scan the book, “library card or student id.” you command, and she reaches into her expensive bag, pulling out her matching wallet. she hands you her library card, which you scan quickly and hand back to her. “you have two weeks to return it.”

“i know how the library works.” she grows irritated with the lack of emotions in your voice, and she assumes you’re probably just annoyed by her presence. “sorry, i wasn’t sure considering you don’t know how manners work.” leighton gasps, a look of clear anger and offense etching itself onto her pretty features. “i already apologized for that!” she defends, and you tilt your head, cocking a brow at her. “i never heard an “i’m sorry”.” your fake confused tone is enough to irk her but keep her interested in talking to you.

she closes her eyes for a second, before releasing a defeated breath. “i’m sorry…” she trails off, realizing she didn’t even get your name. “… y/n.” you finish, and her belly flips at the revelation. “y/n. i’m sorry.” she repeats, and you roll your eyes a bit playfully. “it’s fine. i guess you weren’t the rudest rich-priss i dealt with yesterday. why do you think i saved the book for you?” you taunt her, and the flush on her cheeks causes your smirk to widen.

“mmm, i’m sure you probably have a drawer full of books that those “rude rich-priss’s” asked for.” she challenges, and you offer her this infectious smile that causes her to lose her train of thought. “only the pretty ones. the eye candy makes the lack of human decency worth it.” you hand her the book and the mischief in your eyes allows her to know you’re kidding, but your words make her snort. “aren’t you a charmer. see you in two weeks.” she waves the book at you, before turning on her heels and leaving.

god, the pants she was wearing today made her ass look great.

you shamelessly watch her leave, and before she gets to the doors, you call out, “i like watching you leave, blondie.” your crude comment causes her to stop in her tracks; her face is suddenly red as a tomato. leighton’s brain that is usually amazing at thinking of insults or remarks, cannot conduct a single thought. she only scoffs, as she pushes the exit door open, and your grin widens.

you really don’t expect to see leighton outside of the library. it isn’t because you assume she doesn’t go out or hang around campus, it’s because aside from your dorm, you’re only ever in your classes and the library. so when you see her walk into the cheap bar downtown you decided to try by complete chance, your gaze zero’s in on her. an inevitable grin tugging at your lips, and she doesn’t seem to see you. she’s looking around the other side of the room, like a lost puppy. when she walks by, you keep you head low, trying to go unnoticed by her. once her back is to you, you turn your head in her direction; “nice ass, blondie.” you comment with a sneer, and leighton freezes at the sound of your voice.

when she spins around, she attempts to plaster a vexed expression on her face, but as soon as she sees you she sighs. “ugh, what are you doing here?” she asks, attempting to sound annoyed. you wave a can of hard seltzer in your hand, “sorry excuse for a drink.” she mumbles, as she takes a seat in the empty bar stool beside you. you shoot her a defensive look, “hey, i get buzzed quickly and it has less calories in it.” you mutter, a surprise expression taking over the blonde’s face. you just sounded so undeniably girly.

she doesn’t respond before flagging the bartender down, “one long island iced tea, and two shots of tequila.” she orders, handing the bartender her card as she speaks. you gaze at her, “jesus, blondie, rough day?” you can’t help but ask, and leighton sighs. “rough week. you wouldn’t even know the half of it.” she responds, as the bartender begins to make her drinks. “try me.” you challenge, and she glances at you. for a moment she considers closing herself off, but then she remembers what esme and francesca said. about how closed off she was.

she downs a shot that’s placed in front of her and proceeds to tell you everything. how lonely she’s been since she started school, how her brother doesn’t even know how she’s feeling… she even tells you about francesca and esme. “wait, were you really closed off with them?” you ask, and she huffs. “closed off is a little bit of a stretch.” she responds, and you flash her an “are you serious” sort of expression. “you said you were friends with them since you were kids. you aren’t supposed to be closed off with them.” you remind her, and she frowns, taking a long swig of her drunk, finishing the rest of it in a gulp.

“now you sound like them.” she states, causing you to scoff. “look, i’m not saying you being closed off was entirely your fault, blondie. i mean, those girls must’ve been pretty shitty if it made you wanna hide who you really are.” you tell her, and she goes quiet. “i think you just naturally hide yourself from everyone. i mean, i thought i had a little bit of you figured out, then i saw you in this place…” you trail off, and the blood rises to leighton’s cheeks.

“didn’t expect a rude “rich-priss” like me to be in here?” she questions, and the way the ends of your lips quirk upwards causes the butterflies in her stomach to flutter. “exactly. i thought you were more of a frat party kind of girl. i’m sure those kind of boys go crazy over you, blondie.” the way your eyes roam over her mercilessly causes a strange heat in her abdomen. she shakes her head, the thought of frat boys making her snicker, “yeah, they’re into anything with long legs.” she murmurs, “good thing i hate men.” she adds, and your eyebrows seems to raise in interest.

“i just mean—“ she tries, but you cut her off,

“hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. there’s plenty enough about guys to hate.” you assure her, and she sinks into her seat. “is that why you’re here tonight instead of hanging out on campus?” she questions, “don’t think i haven’t noticed how many jocks are suddenly going into the library now. just cause you’re working there.” she adds, blabbering slightly. your smile widens at the very leighton-like compliment. “tell me about it, i don’t even think some of the guys who’ve gone in there can read past an eighth grade level.” you throw out, and leighton releases this carefree laugh that causes you to stare at her in awe.

thankfully the look of adoration you’re flashing her goes unnoticed as she adds, “eighth grade is generous.” she jokes, making you giggle.

things change between you and leighton after that. you’re sort of the first person who makes her feel normal. you don’t really expect her to be anything, and talking to you is so much easier than talking to anyone else. eventually leighton begins to find herself, and ends up growing close to her roommate and her roommate’s friend group. you smile at her whenever you see them in the library, and the blonde doesn’t hesitate to approach you.

even though she’s reluctant to admit it to herself, she begins to realize she’s developing a bit of a soft spot for you. maybe it’s more than “a bit”. she starts to sought you out in every room she enters, and every time she’s on campus. when she enters the library, she beelines to wherever you are. you’d be lying if you said leighton isn’t the best part of your days; she is. it’s silly, really, every morning you wake up and get ready with the hopes that maybe she’ll pop up in the library.

when she does stop by, she attempts to make it seem like she’s looking for a book. she doesn’t want you to know that sometimes she just drops by when she wants to see you. so maybe leighton is sweet on you; after hooking up with a few girls at the beginning of the semester she began to notice women more and more. she noticed you the first time she saw you. even though you were nothing like what leighton was usually into; you were soft, and sweet underneath all the sarcastic and witty remarks. you weren’t vastly intelligent, but you were really smart. you read more than anyone she knew.

it only takes leighton four months to pick up on everything about you. your mannerisms, what makes you laugh, your interests, and your disinterests. she pays so much attention to you, she doesn’t even realize she’s becoming enthralled by you. even her friends notice how soft leighton is with you. it’s much more than just a silly crush though; leighton thinks of you as a confidant, and more importantly one of her close friends. you’re actually the first person she tells when she begins to see alicia.

though you feel a little jealous about it, you’re happy leighton is finally coming to terms with who she is. you even tell her this, and it causes leighton’s heart to swell. she still hasn’t figured out why her heartbeat quickens around you, or what the fluttering sensation in her belly is that’s caused by your laugh… but she is trying not to ruin the best friendship she’s had.

you never meet “alicia”. you aren’t sure what they look like, what their last name is, or how they behave around leighton. though you do notice a lighter aura around the blonde. it’s nice to see her so relaxed, and not so tightly wound up. though the relaxation was short lived because one evening leighton comes storming into the library, and she’s glaring daggers at anything in her way.

“woah, hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, immediately hopping off the edge of the desk you were sitting on. you close the book you had been reading, and your attention is suddenly on the raging force of nature in front of you. “alicia broke up with me. you remember how i told you they got upset about me asking them to take down that picture?” she asks, trying to keep her voice at a leveled tone, but you can hear the bitterness seeping through. you nod, “the one with your expensive ass purse in the back that would’ve been a total give away?” you ask, and she nods, not even adding onto your sarcasm. usually she would.

you frown, “what happened?” you ask her in a gentler manner, “they said they didn’t want to be with someone who’s not out. they don’t want to my secret.” you frown, looking visibly upset by the revelation. “are they serious? it’s been like two months, that’s like a blink! how does alicia expect you to be ready in two months?” you sound just as vexed as leighton, and it causes the blonde’s anger to simmer ever so slightly. “that’s what i said… i haven’t even told my friends… you’re the only person who knows.” the taller girl reveals in this washed out voice that makes your stomach flip.

“yeah, but that’s different. i’m just me.” you shrug, and she furrows her eyebrows, “it’s just easier for me to talk to you, and be me around you.“ she adds, and the heat rises to your cheeks. “why?” you can’t help but ask, and leighton looks taken back by the question. as if she’s never even thought twice about it. she pauses before giving you a little shrug, momentarily forgetting all about her breakup. “well, you’re you.” she explains vaguely, and you let out a breathless little chuckle.

“i’ll take that as a compliment, blondie.” you taunt her, and she feels a smile tugging at her lips for the first time all day. “take it any way you want.” she responds, and you grin. “look, my shift ends in like twelve minutes. wanna go get a few drinks? on me.” you promise her and she rolls her eyes. “my dads loaded, remember?” she asks, and you giggle, “okay, drinks are on you then.” you retort, and she lets out this breathless little laugh.

so maybe you make leighton feel better than anyone ever has. after a night of getting drunk and laughing at drunk couples argue in the bar, she finds the courage to tell kimberly she’s gay. after that, telling people gets easier. maybe it’s because she’s realized you’ve become one of the most important people in her life, and she was starting not to care about the opinions of anyone else. in fact, leighton found herself coming to you for your opinion on everything. even what shoes she should buy.

it was amusing; becoming leighton murray’s favorite person. she complains about everything, she’s prissy, and keeps tide sticks in her purse. she’s your polar opposite, yet you can’t get enough of her. every friday night you both end up in that same shitty bar, giggling while talking about nothing and everything. it’s actually become leighton’s favorite part of the week.

you don’t want to admit it’s become your favorite part of the week as well. the longer you spend with her, the harder you fall for her. her cute smile, those intense blue eyes, the way she complains about every single thing. you like everything about her, even the parts that should annoy you and scare you away. a part of you thinks she feels the same way; there are times when you’re both the only two people in the library, and you catch her staring. not to mention how obviously happy she is around you.

“so there’s this party on friday. usually, i wouldn’t go, but whitney begged me. it’s at the kappa sorority house. can you come? please?” she questions pleadingly, and you flash her an uncertain expression. “a party?” you ask ambiguously, and leighton nods eagerly. “yeah, i know how it sounds, but i’ll be there and the drinks are all free. i mean, of course there is that exception to getting drugged but i can totally be your knight in shining armor.” she begins to ramble, and truthfully, you had already decided to go the moment she flashed you those begging eyes. “okay, fine. i’ll go. but to set the record straight, you aren’t a “knight in shining armor”. you’re more like a knight in vicuña wool.” you clarify, and she can’t help but laugh.

you keep your promise and end up at the frat party on friday. though you’ve been here for a whole semester now, you still hadn’t been to a single party. you weren’t sure if the tight flare jeans and tight yet basic fitted top, was good enough, but you tried not to overthink it. you were here because leighton asked you to be, and you were beginning to think you’d do just about anything she’d ask. as soon as you walk into the dimly lit frat house, the loud music and uncomfortable warmth of the room hits you.

you scan the hoard of students for the blonde, and you find her quickly. you smile at the sight of her, except it falters a bit when you notice how many girls are surrounding her. ever since leighton came out, it was no secret she was always getting hit on by various girls now. hell, she got hit on by girls before she was out, but now it was a whole different story. she was getting all sorts of attention, and a part of her really loved it. you could see the cocky smirk etched on to her features, as she holds onto her glass loosely. she doesn’t seem to see you as you get closer to where she is.

that’s when you can hear what she’s saying to one of the brunette’s flirting with her. “none of you are really my type.” she admits, and one of the girls doesn’t even seem phased. “well, what is your type?” she asks, and leighton shrugs. “my perfect woman would probably be 5’6, good style, preferably from a major metropolitan city, blonde…” you feel your heart crack in your chest as you realize you don’t fit any of those categories. you didn’t really have a type, but you certainly knew you were interested in leighton. it hurt to realize you weren’t anything she wanted.

it’s silly how much her words affected you, you shouldn’t have cared. besides, you and leighton are friends. it’s not like you’re anything more… sure she’s nice to you, makes you laugh, visits you at work every day, and even carries your favorite snack in her purse… but it doesn’t mean she wants to be anything more than friends with you. you turn around to leave quickly, you would have to give leighton some lame excuse about why you didn’t show, but it didn’t matter to you right now.

after the party leighton notices something is wrong right away. you had told her you didn’t feel well over text, and when she asked if you were okay, you didn’t text her back until the next morning. throughout the day, leighton was waiting on your replies; which was strange. you always texted her back fast. right after her last class, she makes her way to the library. when she gets there she gets a bit upset to see you don’t even seem remotely busy; yet as she gets closer to you, she can’t help take in how off your demeanor is.

you look sad, but you’re trying to keep your focus on a book that’s laid down on your desk. “hey y/n.” leighton pipes up, causing you to look over in her direction. you look like a deer in headlights, but you a press your lips together in order to force a smile. it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and it causes a wave of concern to wash over the blonde. “hey leigh.” you greet her, and she eyes you uncertainly. “you didn’t see my texts?” she asks, and you grimace. “i was super busy earlier, i barely got a break ten minutes ago.” you lie easily, and leighton wants to believe you, but she doesn’t.

you were acting weird, and it wasn’t enough for her to call you out on it. “mhm, well i was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch later?” she asks, flashing you a hopeful smile that makes it very hard to say no to her. “i-i can’t tonight. i have to study for my psych test on friday.” it’s not an entire lie; you have a test coming up in your psych class, but you don’t necessarily need to study for it that much. you know most of the material. you try to ignore the way leighton’s face falls in clear disappointment.

“oh, yeah. sure, maybe we can do something tomorrow?” she questions optimistically, and you nod meekly. “y-yeah! i’ll text you.” you assure her, and you mean it. you’re not just going to ghost and avoid leighton, you just needed a few days or so to get over her. or at least try to. “okay… i’ll see you later then.” you can hear the disappointment etched into her voice clear as day. you simply smile and nod, and she holds in the urge to let out a frustrated huff.

the blonde leaves the library feeling unsatisfied, but she isn’t sure what’s wrong so she hopes it passes. the entire day dragged on without you, and sometimes you were one of the few things that could actually get her to smile.

when leighton texts you goodnight later on that night, a wave of guilt washes over you. she was genuinely worried about you, and even though you had a hopeless crush on her, you knew she considered you a real friend. so the next day, you go back to texting leighton about every detail of your day, and when she shows up to visit you, you come up with some lousy excuse claiming to have had a long lasting migraine yesterday. leighton doesn’t buy it, but she’s just glad you aren’t acting different anymore.

the next two weeks are normal; you and leighton go out for drinks every friday, you get lunch from various restaurants and cafe’s together, and she still comes to visit you at the library every day after her classes. you’re back to you usual happy self in leighton’s eyes. maybe you really did have a migraine that day. though what leighton doesn’t know is whenever she’s not around you go back to feeling down. even quieter than usual.

sure, you knew the chances of leighton murray returning your feelings were slim to none… but you thought you had read all the signs correctly. apparently you were wrong. but you didn’t want to dwell on it too much; besides, leighton was just a crush, right? it’s not like you were in love with her or anything.

sure, you had denied every person who’s asked you on a date, or shown interest in you… but that had nothing to do with leighton.

oh who were you kidding? everything you did was because of leighton. she was your dream girl, and was also becoming your bestest friend. but you knew you had to get over her for the sake of that friendship. maybe that’s why you ended up giving your number to dani martinez, one of the girls on the softball team. she was tall, and had dark black hair that fell just bellow her shoulders; her eyes were dark and full of mischief. she flirted with you every time she came into the library, which wasn’t very often, but she was definitely very persistent.

today you had finally given her your number after rejecting her for two months. the gigantic smile that overtook her features as soon as you did, caused you to genuinely giggle. leighton ironically walks into the library as soon as dani walks out, and she greets you with that colgate smile which always causes the butterflies in your belly to burst. “hey you, come on we’re trying this new greek place today.” she tells you.

you flash her that sweet little smile, and that’s when it hits her that this is the first time in a month that she’s seen that genuine smile. it causes her to falter for a moment, “everything okay? you look happy.” she comments, trying not to sound too suspicious. you nod, “yeah, i’m good. come on, let’s go get some greek food.” you tell her, nudging her shoulder with your own. leighton decides not to press any further. she thought things were okay between you two, but perhaps she was wrong.

relax, leighton, you’re probably just overthinking things.

leighton’s subconscious attempts to soothe her, but she can’t help but wonder if maybe she did something wrong. did she say something rude? she had a tendency to say the wrong thing all the time… but you always understood her. you somehow always knew what leighton was trying to say, and it was nice. she felt like she belonged right beside you, and when she was talking to you, opening up came so easily. not to mention how kind you are, and leighton wasn’t blind. she was aware of how beautiful you are.

in her opinion you were perfect. that’s why it was so hard for her to just make a move on you; if you didn’t feel the same, it would crush her. everything you did already affected her, hell, when she thought you were upset with her last month she had a mini panic attack. today was friday and you canceled on her via text. she couldn’t even complain or ask you why, she knew it wasn’t really any of her business what you were doing on a friday night… but you always spent friday nights with her.

she ends up hanging out with whitney. the two were picking up some food from an italian restaurant down the street from the university. whitney has been wanting to try it for weeks, but leighton wasn’t even in the mood to eat. she was too busy wondering if you were busy with someone else tonight, or if you just didn’t want to hang out with her. she didn’t know which option was worse. she quickly gets her answer a few moments later. as if the universe hates her, she hears that carefree giggle of yours that always made her heart lurch in her chest.

her head snaps around at the sound, and the sight of you sitting in front of dani martinez— the softball teams pitcher— causes her heart to sink into the pit in her stomach. her gaze lingers on you as her eyes dare to tread down to see dani’s hand playing with yours on the table. you’re smiling at the raven haired girl with the same smile leighton thinks about nonstop throughout the day. to see it directed at some cliche jock made her angrier than she cared to admit.

dani martinez doesn’t deserve that smile.

“is that y/n?” whitney asks, squinting in your direction, “oh my god, is she here with dani? from the softball team?” the dark haired girl asks in a scandalous manner, causing leighton to scoff. “i’m sure they’re just here as friends or something. if y/n had a date tonight she would’ve told me.” leighton sounds as though she’s trying to convince herself more than her friend, but whitney doesn’t let up. “friends? friends don’t sit across from each other while holding hands.”

leighton frowns, her expression hardening as her gaze fixates on you. “i’m just gonna go ask her.” leighton declares, as she attempts to walk over to you, but whitney’s grasp around her wrist stops her. “you’re gonna crash her date?” she incredulously asks the blonde, who’s angry expression falters for a split second. “what else am i supposed to do? just let dani martinez sweep her off her feet?” leighton asks, and whitney flashes her a pointed look.

“haven’t you had months to make a move on y/n?” whitney inquires pointedly, doing nothing to ease the blonde’s vexation. “i’m working up to it!” leighton answers, agitation seeping through her tone. whitney cocks a brow in clear skepticism, “since when do you work up to anything? you’re the most impatient person i know!” whitney counterpoints, and leighton physically deflates. “it’s just… i don’t wanna ruin our friendship.” leighton’s voice is lower than before, and it causes her friends features to soften.

“yes you do; you’re just afraid she doesn’t feel the same or that it won’t work. it’s okay to be scared, you know?” whitney assures the blonde, who scoffs. “i’m not scared. leighton murray doesn’t get scared.” she tries to sound as confident as usual, but whitney can see right through her. leighton’s eyes trail over to you, and her heart cracks as she sees dani lean over the table to move a strand of hair out of your face. the way your cheeks flush in the same way they do whenever leighton fixes your hair for you, causes pure betrayal to course throughout her body.

she knew you weren’t technically hers, but watching someone else do something she always does for you makes something inside of her snap. “order for whitney.” the hostess says, as she brings out a bag of food. whitney gets distracted for a minute and it’s like leighton’s legs have a mind of their own. she begins to walk up to the table you’re sitting at; dani clearly didn’t know you preferred sitting in a booth.

you clock leighton as soon as you see her approaching the table. your eyes widen in slight panic, not because you don’t want her to interrupt your date, but because you didn’t even tell her about said date. the blonde really isn’t sure what comes over her; she hasn’t acted this rude or catty with you since you two started getting closer. yet as she stands beside your table, gazing at you with this intense pair of blue eyes that tell you firsthand just how upset she is… you know you’re in for it.

she folds her arms, not even bothering to greet you or dani. “hey leigh… what are you doing here?” you sound like you’ve just been caught doing something wrong, when you know you haven’t. you’re single, and not even leighton’s type, so why would she be upset about you having dinner with dani? “whitney and i came to pick up some pasta. what are you doing here?” she practically interrogates you, and before you can even think of a proper response, dani— who can nearly feel the jealousy radiating off of the blonde— beats you to it.

“we’re on a date.” the jock pipes up, and leighton can’t even contain a scoff. “i wasn’t taking to you, babe ruth. i was talking to her.” leighton doesn’t even bother looking at the raven haired girl, who’s jaw nearly falls agape due to the rude attitude of the blonde. you feel yourself getting smaller under her gaze, “i’ll let you two talk, i’m gonna get a drink from the bar.” dani declares as she stands up, and flashes you a small, reassuring smile. her gaze goes serious as she looks at leighton before walking off.

a silence takes over the two of you once you’re alone with the blonde. “this is what you bailed on me for?? shitty italian food with dani martinez?” leighton interrogates you, and your eyes lock with hers. “the foods not that bad.” you try to lighten up the mood, but it clearly doesn’t work because leighton is staring at you with this abnormally cold expression etched onto her features. the anger is still practically seeping off of her, and you can’t figure out why leighton is so upset about you being on a date with dani.

“you ditched our friday night hangout so you could go on a date with some wanna be max kepler.” she sardonically says, and you pause. “i don’t know who max kepler is… but dani is nice, leigh. what’s the actual problem here? i know this isn’t about me canceling.” you call her out, and leighton’s cold exterior falters; for a minute you can see just how betrayed she looks. “i just thought… i thought you’d rather go out with me. not some lame jock.” the way she says the words causes something inside of you to snap.

“of course i’d rather hang out with you, leighton, but dani asked me on a date.” you know it’s a stupid response, and you can tell by the way she’s staring at you with a look of disbelief. “so any lame jock asks you out and you’re saying yes? just like that?” leighton’s voice is catty and vexed, yet it sends a jolt of emotion into you. “well, yeah, at least someone’s asking me out. why do you even care? i’m not your type so who doesn’t matter who i choose to go out with?” you ask her, in an inscrutable manner that she’s never seen from you. leighton looks taken back for a moment, and for less than a second, her confused expression makes you feel a little bad. until you remember her words from that night. she specifically told you that you weren’t her type, you were actually far from it.

“what are you talking about?” she questions demandingly, and you go silent, unable to bring it in yourself to reveal to her that you were at that party a few weeks ago. how were you supposed to tell her that you heard what she said, and you were hurt about it? you didn’t want leighton to know you felt anything for her, you already knew she didn’t feel the same so what was the point of admitting it? you didn’t want to ruin your friendship, and you figured the best way was dating someone else to forget about her.

“y/n, what are you talking about?” leighton repeats, pulling you out of your thoughts. “i’m talking about that party you invited me to last month. i heard you talking to your little fan-girls. about your type.” you pettily throw out before you can even think about taking it back. leighton freezes, her entire demeanor shifting from confused to shocked in less than a second. “y/n i didn’t know you were there if i did—“ you cut her off, flashing her a look of disbelief. “if you did you would’ve what, leighton? lied to spare my feelings?” you inquire, undoubtedly angry.

leighton shakes her head rapidly, “no, i—“ she tries but dani returns before she can. “hey… i got you a strawberry margarita.” the jock has this nervous smile on her face, but leighton doesn’t seem to care that dani’s intentions are clearly pure. she doesn’t want any other girl taking you out on friday nights, and buying you fruity drinks. “we aren’t done talking here, martinez.” leighton angrily says, and you frown. “yes we are. dani and i are getting dessert after this.” you glare at her, mentally telling her to stop and go away.

her shoulders fall, and she visibly deflates. “y/n—“ she tries, but you shake your head. “please just go.” you can barely meet her gaze, and her heart clenches in her chest, as if it’s being squeezed so tight it might pop. the blonde wants to say something else, except she doesn’t know what else to say. or maybe she does. maybe leighton knows she should tell you how much she likes you; how despite you being nothing she’s usually into, she is. she’s very into you.

but she doesn’t.

no, instead leighton turns around and makes her way to where whitney is waiting for her. her best friend has a pointed look on her face; she clearly already knows things didn’t just pan out well for the blonde. “let me guess, she got pissed at you for crashing her date?” whitney questions, and leighton is too deep in thought to even hear the dark haired girl. “did you see y/n at that party last month? you remember the one you invited me to for girls night?” leighton asks, and whitney shakes her head.

“no, i didn’t see her there. why? did something happen?” whitney questions, and the look on leighton’s face tells her everything she needs to know. “oh god, what did you do?” the dark haired girl asks, and leighton’s eyes widen. “okay, first of all, why do you assume i did something? and second of all, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. i don’t know why y/n is being dramatic.” she mutters, “she’s only on a date tonight so she could hurt me. i bet she knew we’d be here.” leighton doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest, “we didn’t even know we were coming here until an hour ago.” whitney points out in an irritated manner.

leighton’s facade falls, and whitney can see the way leighton’s face contorts to a genuine expression. “she heard me talking to a few girls at that party last month… i was just talking out of my ass, you know? i was describing my perfect “type” of woman, and y/n heard.” leighton downplays it, and whitney raises a brow. “well, what did you say your type was?” the dark haired woman inquires, as they make their way to whitney’s dorm room. “i just said my perfect woman would probably be 5’6, good style, preferably from a major metropolitan city, blonde…” leighton’s voice fades off as she repeats her words from last month. there’s this overwhelming sense of dread that comes over her, and whitney stops in her tracks to throw leighton a surprised look.

“you basically said y/n wasn’t anything you wanted, leigh.” she points out, and leighton shakes her head quickly. “but i didn’t mean it! i was mostly describing a girl like me.” leighton admits, and whitney cocks a brow at her best friend, “and how would you feel if you heard her saying she wasn’t into blondes? or if she was describing her dream girl and you didn’t fit any of the criteria?” whitney asks, and leighton goes quiet.

“i have to go back and explain to her—“ leighton tries to speak, but her friend cuts her off with a sharp look and a shake of her head. “not now. she’s on a date, leigh. you gotta let her enjoy what’s left of her night. you can talk to her tomorrow.” whitney pointedly says, and leighton glances down at her shoes, letting out a breath. “fine. i’ll just let daniella try and get her into bed.” leighton bitterly says, and whitney laughs. “girl, y/n is so down bad for you, she’s not going to sleep with dani.” whitney assures her, and leighton sighs, unable to shake the thought from her mind.

tonight was going to be a long night.

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 16

Prompt: Massage  Pairing: Masseuse!Felix x fem!reader WC: 1.8k Summary: First times can be scary, even if its just a massage. But we all have tension that needs to be worked out, right?

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Felix or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

TW/CW: Lightly abusing professional power, nervous reader, pervert Felix, fingering (fem receiving), squirting.

 “You removed everything, correct?” Felix’s voice is deep and gentle, like you hope his caresses will be.  “I actually had a question about that-”  “You do need to remove socks,” he quickly jumps in, “but underwear is up to your comfortability.”  You giggle, embarrassed. “I suppose you get that a lot.”  His eyes crinkle into a friendly soft smile, “I could write a book and use that as my title, yes. Must be your first time.”  You hop onto the terry cloth massage table in the provided robe, eager to relieve the mounted tension in your body. “Yes sir! I’m a virgin. A massage virgin. It’s my first time. Receiving a massage. Professionally. I’ve like, gotten a massage but not, not like this.” You backtrack and loop with embarrassment, looking everywhere but at the pleasant man in front of you.  Thankfully he seems to gloss over your insane babbling, standing with his back to you as he lights a tea light under a bowl of fragrant oils. “Feel free to lay face into the table with your towel loose.”

 Dimly lit, music softly playing in the background, a handsome masseuse, it all feels like heaven. He hums quietly with the music, voice as velvety as his touch, his hands running down your bare back. Oils warming under his palms as he pushes and pulls at your fascia. Your skin shines and glistens as he rubs down your body. Felix can’t help but notice that for a first timer, you easily slip into a soft pliant puddle on his table. So easily moldable, so easily manipulated. You’re just so trusting, and you should trust him, because he’s a professional he gently reminds himself.

 His hands press and catch on a knot, forcing an almost animalistic grunt from your lungs as it snaps back into place. He can feel you tense up below him, cringing and curling down to the tips of your fingers and toes.  “It’s alright, I’ve heard it all before. It a very natural reaction,” his voice is soft and rich, coaxing you gently like a startled cat. “Whatever your body tells you is right, just go with it.” The warmth of his tone matches that of his palms, lulling you back down as you breathe deeply. He’s not exactly lying, he tells himself as his cock twitches in interest. He really had heard every manner of vocalization in reaction to his talented hands. From whines to groans to the occasional expletive, nothing really surprised him anymore. And yet here you were on his table and one little grunt was enough to have him considering risking his career.

 It was his kind response, his strong fingers, the buzz from the fragrant oils dulling your better judgment, blame whatever but once that groan left your lips a dam burst within you. Every press producing an appreciative moan or sigh as he worked your aching muscles. The glide of skin over skin aided by lotion felt almost transcendent. Separating not only your cramped up fascia but your soul from your skin and bones.

 A hand slips deep between your thighs, your sex flooding with heightened awareness. His pinky narrowly missing direct contact with your slit, he’s so tantalizingly close you find yourself wishing he’d slip up. But his hands are practiced, using the towel as a guide to avoid your bare sex.  It wasn’t professional of him, Felix knows this as the side of his hand wanders up. He can almost feel the steam coming from your dripping hole as he grabs a handful of inner thigh. Abs tensing, another throb of interest. Cock pressing to the edge of the table in hopes of concealing his weakness, he gently lifts your thigh to support your lower back and grant him better access to your hamstring. The towel slips up slightly, exposing more of your wetness to him.  Heat flashes in your ears as cool air hits your sex. Folds dripping wet, there’s almost no way he can’t have noticed it. Your body tightens again below his hands, you’re so easy to read it’s almost unfair.  “Just keep breathing into the places that are holding tension, bring your awareness there,” Felix’s voice sounds strained as the heel of his palm circles where your thigh and buttocks connect.  “Sorry,” you squeak. His palms migrate up and up until he’s working the side of your hip, almost fully palming an ass cheek.  Fuck it, Felix thinks as he starts to reposition your leg. “You carry a lot of tension in your hips and quads, I’m going to need to spend a bit of extra time with them if you're okay with that. I’ll need to reposition your towel though.”

 He’s shameless as he pulls your towel lower, revealing the naked globes of your ass. Vision tunneling as he squirts oil directly on them, against all he’d been taught. Proper procedure was to warm the oil in your hands but he couldn’t resist watching the clear liquid drizzle and disappear into your crack. Breaths reedy he starts by pressing his thumbs into the meat of your ass, digging a large indent where they lay, dragging the globes apart as he pulls the tension from your glutes, revealing more and more of your most private areas.  You’d notice he was shameless if you weren’t so deep into the depths of relaxation, unbothered by how horny you’d become. Strangled groans erupt with each pull, covering his own small grunts. The momentary pain morphs into deep pleasure as your brain slowly numbs over. You can’t help arch back begging for more, for harder, for just a bit deeper.

 The tips of his fingers just barely graze your slit, glistening wetness leaving glittering traces of stickyness. Felix gasps, freezing as his cock throbs. Precum drips steadily into his light cotton pants, a not so mysterious dark splotch slowly forming. One of you should have shame or sense, it should be him. His fingers brush past again, your hips wiggling back to meet him. The both of you still in silence, panting, the barrier between client and professional growing thinner by the second.  “Turn to your front,” Felix’s voice is hoarse and choked. Haphazardly he throws the towel over your ass. Normally he’d hold the towel in place as the client rotated under it, preserving their modesty and relaxation.  In a lust filled daze, you don’t bother to cover your torso as you shift, nipples pebbled and aching for his touch. At this point you’re practically praying to whatever god or demon would listen to drag this man down with you.

 This is so much worse, Felix realizes as he tugs down the length of your arm. Yet he can’t look away from your face as it morphs into pained pleasure, brows knitting and mouth falling open. Your lips look soft, too soft. How soft they’d feel wrapping around him. It’s even more difficult for him to hide the now pronounced dark spot near his crotch, clinging to his rock hard erection.  Felix tries to stand at your head to work on your shoulders and to hide himself better. The image of him dropping the head pillow under the table and slamming his cock into your open throat briefly flashes in his mind, weakening his knees as he spurts another bubble of painful precum into his underwear. “Harder,” you mutter.  Felix nearly passes out as blood rushes from his brain. “Sorry?” “Feelsgoodharder,” you slur as his thumbs stretch over your collar bone.  “Harder?”  “Please, I can take it.”  His eyes roll back in his head, something deeply primal activating with a shiver of his spine. Emboldened by your pleas he fully presses his palms into the tight bundle of muscles right below your collar bones, fingertips stretching down to your areolas just barely able to brush the edges.  You keen below him. It’s agonizing. He moves just the bit lower to graze your nipples, slowly as though he’d be struck down from on high for doing so. No, just the manager if she found out how he’d acted.

 Your quick breaths are hypnotizing. Felix can barely comprehend his actions as he falls deeper into the spell, playing with your breasts like putty. He’s doing the opposite of his job, his calling, he can at least see that. Your tension wound so tight your back is nearly levitating from the white sheet.  “You’re so tense,” he mutters.  “Yeah?”  His hands skim over the expanse of your stomach, towards the shifted towel. “I can fix it but you need to trust me.”  “Anything,” your breathy agreement barely registers in your brain. His arms feel strong as the flex to lift you, moving your limbs into another position, sliding an adjustment block beneath your ass. His finger fit so comfortably inside of you, you hardly notice he’s slipped them in at all. Not until the pads hook upwards, small but confident in their target. Well studied in anatomy, taught in school and outside of, he easily targeting the spongy soft tissue along your walls and presses into it. A primordial groan punches upwards from your core, through your esophagus and out of your mouth. His fingers stir in your gut, a mix of erotic and alarming.  “Just relax for me, yeah?” The reassuring low tone floats through the air as his other hand presses just over your mound. “Breathe and let your body do what it wants.”

 Clearly his speech was meant as a warning peptalk more than comfort. His fingers hook up, whole arm jostling as he fucks up into that laser focused spot. Immediately your legs kick and hips attempt to buck, sandwiched to the mat by his other hand. The bridge between pain and pleasure blurs in your mind as a sob wracks your chest. It’s so much. It’s so good.  “Only a little bit more I can feel you squeezing me,” Felix is focused, its almost a point of professional pride to him. He doesn’t even have to know you to know how to please you, how to tease that release from your muscles. This climax belonged to him, given enthusiastically by you and your trusting body.  Spine jolting and curling the opposite way you’re ripped from your spell suddenly, an urge building in your gut and ringing every alarm bell available. A stream of release erupting from you just in time for your eyes to pop open. Coating the table and his wrist with a caught gasp, you look at each other, wild eyed and breathless as his fingers pull from you.  “Oh shit,” you stare agape.  Felix is silent. Ghostly white.  “Your table-”  “It’s fine.”  “Your next client-”  “It’s fine.”

[shegatsby]

Could I possibly request a fic where Hannibal has reader hidden away in a secret room. Like he keeps her there in her own world kinda like a princess in a tower situation. He keeps her there so she’s safe and doesn’t know what he does. She’s actually pretty happy with the situation because she loves him he loves her yadayada and possible smut MAYBE Will gets to meet her🤭 idk I’m new to requesting also I love your stuff man 10/10

Your day started just like the day before but this time you had a dream. It was about the night he brought you here. You were his patient, had a troubled upbringing with drug addict parents, your earliest memory was sitting on a couch, starving, and watching your parents with needles… you were taken to custody but it was too late. You were scarred for life. You focused on your education till one day you snapped and had to find a psychiatrist.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter

You had read his reviews, whatever you could find about him on the Imternet.

You walked to the luxurious bathroom, your mind clouded with the memories of your first session with him.

It was spring and you wore a milkmaid dress. Since his upstanding reputation you wanted to look “sane” and “presentable”

Wiping your palms on your dress you knocked on the grey door, you had noticed the absence of a secretary but didn’t pay much mind. And he opened the door…

You were awe struck to say the least. He easily standing there in his 3 piece suit, clean shaven and inviting you with his dark maroon eyes. “Hello Ms.Y/LN. Please come in.” You smiled gently and entered. He had 2 stores in the office, at the top there was a balcony which looked like a library, books were wall to wall. Down stairs he had a brown desk with organized materials on it, a fire place, paintings on the walls. He gestured you to sit and he sat across you with his black leather notebook. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs, even though he was sitting he still spoke tall. “I must admit,” he began and caught your attention, you found yourself sitting up tall, matching his aura, “ Ms. Y/L/N, you had sent me a very interesting email.” In order for him to accept a client one must sent an email which he replies in 3 days. “How come?”

He looked into your eyes, yes there was space between you two but you could feel his intensity. “You were straightforward, it almost felt as if you wanted to show me how bad your situation is, so that I’ll reject you. Do you often show your bad side for others to rum away, thus, you don’t have to interact with them?”

His questioning made you drop your jaw, this was his deduction from just the email? You wondered if you should continue and expose yourself to him and also face your fears or just get up and leave.

Hannibal noticed the hesitation in your eyes, he put the book away and did something which left you speechless. There was a cabinet on the wall behind him, he opened it and got a bottle of red wine and 2 glasses. He poured one for you and and extended his hand, “No need to fret Ms. Y/L/N,” you got the glass and felt his touch, “after all, I’m here to serve you.” His tone was less formal than before.

And your story began with him, at first you had your session with him once a month, and office hours turned into coffee dates and dinners.

You used to live alone in a one bedroom flat with yur cat Lucifer, he was a huge black cat thus the name Lucifer came.

One night you were out with your pyschiatrist Doctor Lecter. He invited you out for dinner and to be honest he showed off his wealth and refined palate. You found youself admiring his life style, luxurious yet elegant like the royals. He wasn't shy of showing it to you or making you experience it first hand.

The night was amazing, you were like two normal adults having a nice dinner, both of you lost the titles of doctor and patient and enjoyed each other's company, he drove you home and everything happened that night.

''Did you leave your lights on?'' he mentined the yellow lights coming from your flat, ''No.'' an icy feeling entered your chest, ''I'll come with you to check it, stay behind me.'' he said, his protective side showing, you did as he told you and together you rode the elevator and came to your door which was wide open.

Tears filled your eyes when you saw your home, everything was torn and broken, someone came in and did an arduous damage. Hannibal checked to see if someone was still inside. It was empty, ''Where is your cat?'' and with the mention of Lucifer your hands went to your chest and you started calling for Lucifer, you found him hiding, he was shivering.

''I'm also working with FBI, I know people who can help. In the mean time you're staying with me.'' it wasn't a question or a request, he meant what he said.

''O-okay.'' you were shivering. You picked up Lucifer and you felt Hannibal's hand on the small of your bag, ''Let's get you to the car, and I'll call my friends Will and Jack.''

He got you inside the car and left to make a call and the rest was history.

His house felt like a museum at first but it grew on you over your stay. He gave you the guest bedroom which was bigger than your own, he also went out of his way to collect your precious belongings from your robbed house. It wasn't much just a small bag, Lucifer was the most important to you. Hannibal also liked animals and didn't sany anything about your cat, in fact they got along.

After a week you started to look for a new place to stay, you were having breakfast together, ''What are you doing?'' he asked as he poured you coffee, ''House hunting.'' you replied shortly and saw him dropp the spoon he was holding, this was the first time he lost his composure and he cursed himself, ''Clumsy today.'' he joked and continued, ''You shouldn't rush. I am happy to have you, in my home.''

You looked up to meet his maroon eyes, ''Thank you for everything Hannibal but I don't want to be a burden.'' as your therapist he already knew how you felt. His mission was to convince you to stay. Manipulate you even...

Together you went on house huntings, he was there all the time. After every house he would find something bad about it, neighboors, mold, too pricy etc.

One night you were watching a movie together, it was an old Hollywood classic. ''Don't leave.'' you heard him and turned to face him, he was sitting next to you, his arm on your shoulders, ''What?''

You were startled, ''I don't want you to go.'' he puased the movie, his eyes pleading, ''that night when you house was broken into, I swore to protect you and never let you out of my sight.'' he held your hands, ''Its dangerous outside Y/N, I cannot let you go.''

His tone sent shivers down your spine, he was serious. ''Do you want me to-'' he cut you off, ''Be mine.''

and he leaned in for a passionate kiss.

Since then you were with him, he took care of every detail and let you thrive and pursue your passions such as writing and painting. He was a possessive man and never liked to see your attention go to someone else that's why he introduced you to only one person,

Will Graham. His colleague and friend.

Thank you for reading. :)

[mountkennedie]

Plants

Loki x reader

Summary: you visit Loki in his personal library

warnings: Loki season 2 reference (sorry BUT I HAD TO), fluff

A.N. gender fluid Loki means everything to me

The young prince of Asgard had many places he frequented. His room, of course, everyone loves their room. A certain shadowed place in the kingdom gardens that he thinks only he knows about. And lastly, in the place he was in now, the library. For his birthday, it had been gifted to him. There already was a library in the palace. This was really just a smaller version of it. However, this one supplied only his favorite genres, and when that idea was proposed, I don't think the person was aware of Loki's reading history. He has many favorite genres, and space in the smaller library was filled quickly.

You had nothing better to do to spend your time. And usually that meant you would find your best friend of many years. Contrary to popular belief, you knew to check the library first. It makes sense to go to his room, but you know better. He didn't actually have many books in his room. It was a guideline set by his mother so that he would sleep at night instead of read the hours away. All the books inside had been read cover to cover so many times he could probably recite them at any given moment.

Approaching the doors, there were two guards standing watch. "Is Loki in today?" You knew their names, and honestly, more than you probably should for the royal guards. Their jobs were protection, not chatter. But who could resist a little break from that strict code? Especially when you would ask the most random yet interesting questions you could think of.

"If you had the choice of only being able to see one color for the rest of your days, which one would you choose?"

"My lady, I have been advised to limit conversation that does not concern the safety of the kingdom. But also a nice blue would not be bad."

"Yes, my lady, he is. Would you prefer an introduction?" He asked.

"That won't be necessary." They both nodded their heads and opened the doors for me to enter. The room was beautifully lit. The lanterns were a lovely touch, with the edition of the small candles added a very cozy feeling. Luckily, the windows in the corners of the room had been cracked. Neither of you could stand the smell of standing smoke. There were two couches in the center of the room. They were large and rather dramatic, the edition of the green velvet cushions added to the atmosphere.

Upon one to those couches was the one you had been looking for. Stretched out on the right couch, new book in hand. The title was something you couldn't make out. Their fingers covered it perfectly. "You know you can ask instead of trying to sneakily figure it out," they quipped. They finally looked up and smirked at you.

You helped yourself to sit down on the adjacent couch. "No, I am good with sneaking glances," you replied in a similar tone.

He huffed and placed his book down on the table. "Is there nothing interesting going on in the palace? That is why you violate my one place of solace?" He kept his tone light, so you knew his cruel words were nothing but words.

"Oh, I just knew you missed my presence so much. I had to cease your worries and needs." The pair of you could go on for hours if you both wanted. But instead of that, you needed him to answer something. "Loki, if you were a plant, what plant would you be?"

"That's what has been plaguing you today?" She sat up, and you mirrored her. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, "If I was a plant..."

"I have an idea of what I think you'd be, but I still am curious as to what you think." You rested your head on your hands facing him. Your smile of amusement gleamed on your face. You loved watching her in deep thought.

"Well, help me out. What would you be?" Their smile matched yours. It grew bigger when your brows knitted in concentration.

"I think I would be a fern. A nice pretty fern with a big wide leaf span. I would make all the other ferns jealous," You finished your sentiment with a theatrical voice. You had been thinking of this for a little bit. And by a little bit, it was really what you were thinking about on the way here.

"I could easily see you passing as a fern. As for me... I can see myself as some form of tree. Maybe a weeping willow or a variation of it." When he finished his thought, he looked back down at you.

"I was thinking more of a strong oak tree, growing tall and providing shade for anyone lucky enough to walk near you." He looked at you after you said that. Not with the typical look of a friend, but of something more weighted. You could really only hope that was what you were seeing. The growing feelings of adoration towards the god had only gotten more intense over time. You've heard of many seeing the world through rose colored glasses. You could wish that your vision was clear.

"Thank you," They looked like they wanted to say more. And you implored they would. But instead, you both continued the intense eye contact you both had been holding. The air was too thick for your lungs to carry. You wanted them to make the first move because you were frozen. "Y/n?"

Your name was spoken in the way a lover would address another. You said a silent prayer that your eyes were not scarlet sensitive in this moment. "Loki?" Your voice was barely stronger than a whisper. He stood and approached your couch. You stood up and moved to be in front of him.

"It is my turn to ask you something." He took a deep breath and took your hands in his. "I need to know now, have your feelings toward me ever been more than... platonic?" His eyes were full of fear. But you also could see how badly he needed to hear your response.

You managed to get one gust of air inside your long awaiting lungs. You looked into his eyes one last time as a friend, then said, "Yes."

He blinked twice as the clarity rolled over him. His hands lightly squeezed yours, "Even now?" His voice was something you had never heard before. It was frail and desperate. You nearly wanted to apologize for putting him through such torment.

You thought of your next words thoroughly. "Especially now," you squeezed his hands back in the same manner. She sighed and shut her eyes. You did the same, and you both rested your foreheads on the others. Without word, your both tilted your heads up and let your lips collide.

You were not sure who sighed into the kiss, but it was still an accurate representation of the need for action. It stayed slow, but not any less passionate as a kiss of messy fire. When you both pulled apart, your hands stayed conjoined. No one spoke. No words could describe what was flowing between you two.

Eyes closed and lips locked yet again. Again and again and again.

[ms-snape]

hey I noticed you haven’t done any Lucius Malfoy fics yet, and I’d like to request one if you’re open to it, the reader is a strong-willed witch who doesn’t fall for his usual charm? Lucius is used to getting whatever he wants, but the reader constantly challenges him, and it intrigues him in a way no one else has. Over time, Lucius starts to realize that he’s genuinely falling for her, and there’s a slow-burn romance as they go from tension-filled encounters to mutual respect, then love. Lots of witty banter, hidden vulnerability from Lucius, and a surprisingly soft, romantic confession at the end.

Title: Charm

Warning: None, lucius being lucius

Words Count: 2000+

Masterlist

---

The Ministry of Magic was a labyrinth of enchantment and bureaucracy, a place where power dynamics shifted like the tides. Y/n Y/l/n, a strong-willed witch and a respected potion master in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had learned to navigate its complexities with grace and determination. Her talent and hard work had earned her respect, but it was her unwavering spirit that truly set her apart.

As she walked through the bustling atrium, she could feel the gazes of her colleagues—some filled with admiration, others tinged with envy. Y/n had always found herself on the fringes, content to focus on her work rather than engage in the political machinations that often defined life at the Ministry. Yet, it was the whispers of a certain silver-blonde wizard that broke through her concentrated bubble.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Lucius Malfoy greeted her, his voice smooth and dripping with charm. He leaned casually against a pillar, the epitome of aristocratic elegance. “I must say, your dedication to your work is admirable. Most would have crumbled under the pressures of this place by now.”

Y/n glanced up, her brow slightly raised. “And yet here I am, standing tall,” she replied coolly, matching his tone. “Flattery won’t earn you any favors with me, Malfoy.”

“Flattery?” He chuckled softly, his icy blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “I merely speak the truth. Your determination is commendable.”

Her heart raced as she held his gaze, the playful banter igniting something within her that she hadn’t expected. She had long since learned to see through his polished facade, understanding that behind the charm lay a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. But Y/n had never been one to succumb easily.

“Save your compliments for someone who might appreciate them,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m not interested in becoming another feather in your cap, Lucius.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly masked by his usual composure. “Is that so? I find it refreshing, really. Most women seem eager to bask in my attention.”

“That says more about them than it does about you,” she shot back, walking past him with purpose. She felt the heat of his gaze on her back, and she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

Days turned into weeks, and their encounters became a familiar rhythm, a dance of words and glances laced with underlying tension. Y/n would catch herself thinking of Lucius more often than she cared to admit. He intrigued her with his intellect, challenged her with his wit, and made her question her own perceptions of power and vulnerability.

Lucius, on the other hand, found himself drawn to her in ways he had never anticipated. The thrill of their verbal sparring ignited a fire within him, and he began to look forward to their encounters. No one else had dared to challenge him so boldly, and he found her spirit intoxicating. It was a contrast to the women he had known, who had often been content to admire him from afar.

One particularly dreary afternoon, Y/n found herself in the Ministry’s expansive library, surrounded by stacks of books as she searched for an elusive potion recipe. The dim light cast a warm glow over the dusty volumes, creating an atmosphere of quiet reflection. She was so engrossed in her task that she barely noticed Lucius approaching until she felt his presence beside her.

“Lost in thought again?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing.

Y/n glanced up, suppressing a smile. “Just doing some research. What brings you here, Malfoy? Surely you have more important matters to attend to.”

He leaned against the table, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on her. “I could say the same for you. Researching potions when you could be enjoying the finer things in life?” His smirk was infuriatingly charming.

“I enjoy what I do,” she replied defensively, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “Not everyone needs the thrill of high society to find fulfillment.”

“Touché,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But wouldn’t it be better to have a little fun? Life is far too short to be buried in books, even if they are as fascinating as you make them seem.”

Y/n straightened, her eyes narrowing. “You mean the kind of fun that leads to empty flirtations and false promises? No, thank you. I prefer to keep my life meaningful.”

Lucius’s expression softened slightly, his facade slipping ever so slightly. “I admire your conviction, Y/n. It’s refreshing to see someone who knows what they want.”

Their eyes locked, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Y/n felt a flutter in her chest, a spark of something deeper than mere attraction. But she quickly quelled it, reminding herself of the walls she had built around her heart.

As weeks turned into months, their encounters grew more charged. Lucius began to seek her out more frequently, often finding reasons to linger near her office or cross paths in the halls. Each meeting was a mixture of tension and exhilaration, a game of verbal chess where neither was willing to yield.

One day, as they walked through the Ministry gardens during a rare moment of respite, the sun filtering through the leaves, Lucius turned to Y/n with a seriousness that caught her off guard. “You know, there’s more to me than what you see on the surface.”

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing her interest. “Is that so?”

“Many view me as simply a wealthy, influential pureblood wizard,” he continued, his voice low. “But I’ve faced my share of struggles, Y/n. I’ve fought against expectations and the shadows of my past. It’s exhausting, and I wonder sometimes if anyone sees beyond the facade.”

Y/n felt a pang of empathy for him, understanding that beneath his charming exterior lay a man grappling with his identity. “I can relate to that,” she admitted softly. “I’ve often felt the weight of expectations myself. People assume they know me, but they rarely take the time to understand who I am.”

He paused, their eyes locking as a shared vulnerability lingered between them. “Perhaps that’s why I find you so compelling. You challenge me, push me to question who I am and what I truly want.”

“Is that what this is?” she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “A challenge?”

“Perhaps,” Lucius replied, a smile tugging at his lips. “But it’s more than that. I’m beginning to realize that I want to know you—really know you.”

Y/n’s heart raced, and she felt the heat of his gaze. “Lucius, this isn’t—”

“It’s not just a game,” he interjected, stepping closer. “I’m not asking for a fling; I’m asking for something real. I want to explore this connection we have, to see where it leads.”

His sincerity struck a chord deep within her, and for the first time, she felt the walls she had built begin to crumble. But fear still lingered, casting a shadow over her heart. “What if we ruin what we have?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then we will face the consequences together,” he assured her, a determined gleam in his eyes. “But I’d rather take that risk than live a life filled with regrets.”

Their eyes held for a moment longer, the world around them fading away. Lucius’s heart raced, anticipation mingling with hope. He had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, but he knew he couldn’t walk away. Not now.

“Okay,” she said finally, her resolve wavering. “Let’s see where this takes us.”

With that, their relationship began a delicate transformation. They spent more time together, sharing moments both grand and intimate, navigating the complexities of their lives with newfound honesty. Y/n discovered layers to Lucius that no one else had seen—the thoughtful, introspective man hidden behind the mask of privilege and power.

In quiet moments, they would share laughter and stories, and Y/n found herself enjoying Lucius’s company more than she had ever imagined. He would often watch her with an intensity that made her heart race, as if he were trying to memorize every detail. In turn, Y/n began to see glimpses of vulnerability in Lucius, moments where he let his guard down and revealed the man he truly was beneath the polished surface.

But despite the growing bond between them, doubt occasionally crept in. Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucius was still bound by the expectations of his past, the weight of his family legacy hovering over them. It was a nagging thought that made her question the foundation of their connection.

One evening, while attending a Ministry gala, Y/n stood by the window, gazing out at the stars. The ballroom buzzed with laughter and conversation, but she felt out of place amidst the opulence. Lucius approached her, his presence grounding her in a way that soothed her insecurities.

“Why so pensive?” he asked, his voice a low murmur as he joined her at the window.

“I don’t belong here,” she admitted, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. “These people… they don’t see me. They only see my title, my work.”

Lucius turned to face her, a seriousness etched on his features. “You belong here just as much as anyone else, Y/n. You’ve earned your place through hard work and talent.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked, turning to meet his gaze.

“Absolutely,” he replied, sincerity resonating in his voice. “You have a strength that commands respect. I admire that.”

She felt warmth bloom in her chest, a flutter of hope igniting. “Thank you, Lucius. That means more than you know.”

He studied her for a moment, the weight of his thoughts hanging in the air. “There’s something I need to confess.”

Y/n’s heart raced as she sensed the gravity of his words. “What is it?”

“I’m falling for you, Y/n,” he admitted, his voice steady yet vulnerable. “In a way that I never thought I could again. It terrifies me because I know my past is complicated, but you make me want to be better.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her heart swell at his honesty. “Lucius…”

He took a step closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone—not even Narcissa. You challenge me in a way that makes me want to shed my past and become someone worthy of you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as she fought against the emotions flooding her heart. “I didn’t expect to feel this way either. You’ve surprised me.”

“Then let’s surprise each other,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. “Let’s build something real together.”

In that moment, the world around them faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of them and the connection that had blossomed between them. Y/n felt a surge of warmth as Lucius intertwined their fingers, a gentle yet firm grip that spoke volumes of his intentions.

“Okay,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Let’s take this journey together.”

With their hearts laid bare, Y/n and Lucius stepped into a new chapter of their lives, one filled with uncertainty but also hope. They faced challenges head-on, navigating the complexities of their emotions and the scrutiny of those around them. Together, they forged a bond that transcended the expectations of their pasts, proving that love could flourish even in the most unexpected places.

As the seasons changed, so did their relationship. They shared stolen moments in quiet corners of the Ministry, laughter echoing in the hallways as they exchanged witty banter. Lucius began to show her the parts of himself he had long hidden, revealing his vulnerabilities and fears. Y/n, in turn, opened up about her aspirations and dreams, her passion for potions igniting new conversations between them.

One crisp autumn evening, as they walked through the vibrant foliage of the Ministry gardens, Lucius paused, his expression serious yet tender. “Y/n, I want to take this to the next level. You’re not just a challenge anymore; you’re the woman I want by my side.”

She stopped, her heart racing as she searched his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I want to be with you, truly,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m ready to leave the past behind and build a future together.”

Tears welled in Y/n’s eyes as his words washed over her, a wave of relief and joy flooding her heart. “Lucius, I… I want that too.”

In that moment, surrounded by the golden hues of autumn, they embraced their love fully, ready to face whatever challenges awaited them. Lucius brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his gaze softening as he leaned closer. “Then let’s make it official.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, confusion mingling with excitement.

Lucius smiled, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “I mean, I want you to be my partner in every sense. I want to show you off, to declare to the world that you’re mine.”

Her heart swelled with warmth, and she couldn’t help but laugh, a joyful sound that echoed through the garden. “I would like that very much.”

“Then it’s settled,” he declared, a triumphant smile gracing his lips. “Prepare yourself, Y/n Y/l/n, for a life filled with love, laughter, and perhaps a little mischief.”

And as they walked hand in hand, Lucius realized that he had finally found what he had been searching for—a love that was genuine, transformative, and utterly real. In Y/n, he saw the reflection of a future he had never dared to dream of, one where they could conquer the world together.

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 1

Title: Assembly’s and Introductions 

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Mild Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: There’s a new kid at your prestigious university, he’s tall, tattooed and muscular, and oh yeah, he’s the Prince. 

Warnings: PG13, mild swearing, a general ‘lets get the ball rolling’ first chapter

Word Count: 5410

Release Date: January 26, 2023, 12:40PM

A/N 1: I’ve been working on this since September 2022, got 80K in, and have accidentally taken an extended break from Dec 1st until now. I need a kick in the pants to continue writing it so here’s the first chapter. I hope you enjoy as I have read this about 400 times and I’m sick of editing it.

A/N 1.5: it’s pronounced ‘Nehl” not “Neal”

“Come on, come ooooon!!” Yuri says as she drags you by one arm down the corridor, the other filled with books and study notes. You’re being dragged from your mid morning study session and she's starting to stretch your favourite sweater from how hard she’s pulling.

Slipping from her grasp to save it from any permanent damage, Yuri uses her new freedom to take the lead.

“Not everyone cares as much about this as you do,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I get you’re here because your parents put you here but I worked for it. I can’t just abandon my study plans for some guy,” voice echoing in the corridor as you succeed in keeping up with her quick pace.

Yuri mocks your words in gibberish, matching your tone, just more nasally.

She’s heard this hundreds of times since becoming your best friend in first year after being assigned your roommate. She may force you to go to places and parties you don’t find nearly as important as she does, but you also know she’s the only reason you’ve had any fun since starting university.

That doesn’t deter you though.

“I’m serious,” you insist, refusing to back down.

A look you know well flashes over her face. One that’s a mixture of absurdity and exhaustion— specifically at you.

“You know, sometimes I can’t even believe we’re friends. He’s not just some guy YN,” she looks over her shoulder to make eye contact. “He's the prince.”

Ah yes, the prince.

How could you be so foolish?

The fancy name given to the poor bastard who doesn’t get to decide his future—or work for it for that matter. Just has it handed to him because he was born at the right place, right time.

The prince who’ll be king to the biggest nation in the west one day.

The prince everyone freaks out over.

Sure, he’s cute enough, and will eventually have lots of money and power, because those are so important for someone like him.

But what’s money and power if you’re miserable or an asshole or you don’t know what to do with it? What’s money and power for someone who’s never known poverty and helplessness?

The title of Prince means nothing if you don’t earn it. Means nothing if you don’t know how to use it properly.

Who knows if this one does? So why should you particularly care?

Unfortunately, most people can’t get past the ‘young, handsome, future king of the Western Shores, hunk-a-hunk of dreamy’—blah, blah, blah, the media splatters over every magazine cover they possibly can, earning the prince a hefty social following of adoring, screaming—slightly brain dead if you had any say about it— ‘followers’ aka fans.

And Yuri, like every other girl on campus, is one of them. Minus the brain dead and screaming.

Well…Sort of minus the screaming.

She has screamed, in the past at least. So maybe just minus the brain dead part…

Anyways, she’s grabbing your wrist and you sigh, wringing yourself free of her near iron grip, again. But you can’t blame her.

Yuri’s focused on one thing, and one thing only.

And it’s beginning in 15 minutes.

“Plus I want good seats!”

You scoff.

“He’s just a person, Yuri. I get he’s got an important title and fancy job, but that’s all that separates him from us.”

She glares at you as you reach the courtyard of your school.

Trees surround the perimeter in evenly placed lines, a large running fountain at its center. There’s plenty of open grass space the students use to study, picnic or throw a ball around on. And its cobblestone walkways are currently covered in rows upon rows of filled up seats.

Most of those filled seats are in the middle though, which surprises you. You would’ve thought girls would be lining up at the front row to see their prince.

“Yeah, just the title and fancy job,” Yuri says, taking her turn to scoff and opens her hand to count on her fingers. “Let's not count the fact that he’s insanely hot—have you seen his body? His face? Or what of the land he’ll inherit on top of the land he already owns? And money! Can’t forget that. Or clothes. Not enough? I can keep going,” she switches to her other hand. “How about control over the largest kingdom in The West? They don't call him ‘Prince of the Western Shores’ for nothing, Sweets. Also the mass of adoring fans, security and advisors following his every move, nice cars, fancy vacation houses…should I keep going?”

You’re pretty sure she only stopped because she ran out of fingers and you don’t deign her with a reply. Yuri seems content to have made her point and she did. 

But you’d never admit that to her. Instead you keep walking, taking in the sights around you.

Your school is The Royal Academy of Business and Fine Arts. Anyone can study here if they have the cash, or the brains, though one method is much more abused than the other.

It’s one of the most prestigious schools in the world because it’s where nearly every royal on this half of the continent goes to university. Hence the “Royal'' in the title.

Ladys, lords, dukes, duchesses, princesses and yes, princes all go here—are most of your classmates, actually. But there is only one prince everyone cares about. The one who, in the next few short years, will not only be at your school for whatever it is his father deems appropriate for him to study in his post secondary education, but the one who is also first in line and heir to the biggest kingdom in The West—if it hadn’t been mentioned before.

His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.

Okay… look.

It’s not that you don’t like him, he hasn’t done anything to make you hate him, and you’re sure he’s a decent guy once you get to know him.

It’s just that you don’t really feel any type of way about him, positive or negative. And that confuses so many people around you.

Which in turn, confuses you.

Most people seem to think he’s some sort of god sent angel carved by the hands of whoever created the universe. Fawning over him and thinking he can do no wrong. But what they all fail to see is that he’s just like them.

Got a bit more of a leg up on life than most, sure, but still human. Like you, or Yuri.

He eats and showers and uses the bathroom. He gets a runny nose and puffy eyes when he’s sick. He has bad hair days and ties his own shoes… you think.

He’s just a regular guy with an irregular job. So no, you had no opinion on him other than disinterested neutrality.

But if you had to feel something? You guess you probably felt pity.

You worked your ass off in highschool to get where you are. You and your mom screamed until your voices were hoarse when you got your acceptance letter two and a half years ago. One of 25 scholarship students accepted on a full ride every year.

You were doing a major in fine arts and a minor business, wanting to milk your education for all it’s worth on their dime. Lucking out that your two areas of interest were not only at one school, but at one of the best schools in the world for both subjects.

You chose what you wanted for your life and you worked for it for years. And now you sit comfortably at the top of your class in both fine arts and business, not taking your opportunity for granted for a second.

Jungkook though? He’s expected to go here. Doesn’t have much of a choice about it, and he doesn’t have to work for it either.

A small part of you that has yet to mature envies him for how easy he has it, for the privileges he is given simply because of one six letter word in front of his name. That he didn’t have to put in 60 hour weeks and give up his teenage years just to prove he was good enough to be here.

He was born good enough.

But that’s a small part of you, and you can ignore it if you try hard enough.

The point is you felt pity because he’s probably never had to work for something a day in his life. He doesn’t know the satisfaction of working towards something, to not only succeed, but to be the best.

To earn what he has.

He won’t know what to do when real life hits him.

Yuri lets a baby scream loose as she spots her desired seats and yanks you out of your thought spiral. 

The front of the courtyard is still relatively empty, middle still filling up faster than anything else.

“Yes! Score! First row, left side, that’s perfect! He'll definitely see us.”

She grabs your arm a third time and it’s an effort not to drop your books and groan at her.

Yuri’s like you in the sense where she is not royalty, but unlike you she—or should you say, her parents—are loaded.

Family business perks.

She’s here because she can be, because her family can afford to send her and make donations, not because she wants to be or because she worked for it.

But don’t misunderstand that, Yuri works hard. She just happens to party more than she studies most days. That and plan her future with a very rich and handsome guy who has yet to be determined.

You’d jokingly deemed her a royalty hunter after about an hour of meeting her for how badly she wanted to ‘marry up.’

“See you,” you correct, or has she forgotten about Nel, your boyfriend of 5 years? Your high school sweetheart and who is currently, much to your dismay, at school about 5000 miles away.

“I’m sure Cornelius wouldn’t be mad if the prince charms his girl just once, seeing as his royal highness can do that to most people just by breathing near them,” she quips. ”And even if he would get mad, Jungkook can just have him thrown in a dungeon for being overprotective and jealous.”

“The royal palace doesn’t have dungeons, but they do have a series of interrogation rooms on the third lower level,” you inform her. You did a project on the history and architecture of the royal palace in tenth grade—and Nel really wouldn’t care, he knows where he stands, just like you do.

“How do you just know that!”

Yuri didn’t know you in highschool and you used that to your advantage every single time you could, laughing bright and loud.

She starts dragging you down the walkway again, a habit of hers. Like she’s worried you’ll try to slip away if she isn’t forcing you where she wants you to be.

It’s a good instinct on her part.

You're nearly there, so you focus more on the trees just starting to turn colours overhead, casting slightly pigmented shadows on the ground. Fall is just starting to creep up on the heels of summer, the days of sunscreen and chlorine slowly being replaced by pumpkin spice and crisp apples.

She sits exactly where she wanted too, and you plop beside her, glad you’re wearing a light sweater and tights. They are just warm enough to keep the slight breeze from giving you chills, but also keep your legs from sticking to the plastic seats.

For such an expensive school to go to you’d think they’d have better assembly furniture.

You notice a news camera off in the distance and suddenly understand the empty front seats. No one wants to publicly embarrass themselves on national television from seeing the prince, rewindable and replayable, forever seared into the internet.

It’s times like these you’re happy you’ve never been one to get starstruck. They’re all just people, why be shocked or surprised when they exist near you?

Opening up your books on your lap, you figure you can kill the next ten minutes in a productive way, considering what happened to your original plans for the mid morning.

And as you do, you feel the seats around you begin to fill, not a single one empty by the time the event starts.  Not even the ones up front.

A jerked movement catches your eyes and you see that two seats closer to the pedestal from Yuri is Adaline.

Great.

Adaline Dupree is basically a princess from the Eastern Shores. ‘Basically’ because she’s not, but she certainly acts like she is. A fake princess, an even bigger royalty hunter than your best friend and your not so secret arch nemesis.

She’s in your fine arts classes—all of them, unfortunately—her proper title being ‘Duchess of…’ some province you never bothered to learn the name of, and she’s one of the most well known people on campus.

Tall, with beautiful blonde hair, hazel eyes, freckles, a slim figure and quite the socialite. You’re surprised she went into fine arts and not modeling. She’s got the ego part of the job down pat.

Good for her for being pretty. But anyone could be beautiful on the outside with enough money and a surgeon. That’s not why you considered her your nemesis, you don’t give a shit about any of that.

She was your nemesis in the academic world. Because not only was she beautiful, she was also brilliant at her craft.

Which happened to also be your craft, and it pissed you off to no end.

Where you were first, she was second and where she was first, you were second. Always neck in neck with one another, always trying to one up each other.

You only considered yourself better than her because unlike her, you hoped at least, Adaline was a complete and total bitch. She took what she wanted without remorse and she wasn’t above sabotage to get it.

You learned that the hard way in your first year. And you’ve always wondered if that was her privileged upbringing speaking or if she’s just like that naturally, so unused to not getting what she wanted that she’d take it.

Therefore, it is of absolutely no shock to you that she’s sitting as close as she possibly can to where the prince will be standing. Directly in front of the pedestal at the base of the fountain in the center of the courtyard.

A door opens to your right followed by a couple screams, and you can only assume the man of the hour has arrived. A red camera light flicks on in your peripheral vision and you take that as your confirmation and cue to close your books.

The Dean of Schools, a few advisor looking people, a good handful of terrifyingly large security guards, and a head of black hair you conclude to be the prince all make their way towards their destination.

A smirk graces your face at all the girls batting eyelashes or screaming his name, as if that would get his attention. You’re about to mention that exact thought to Yuri, but you notice her eyelashes looking awfully similar to those around you and can’t help failing to stifle a laugh.

She catches it. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say. “You might just want to pick your jaw up off the ground.”

Her response gets cut off when a voice comes over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for such a warm welcome,” says the Dean, calm and assured. She knew exactly the welcome they'd receive. “I’ll keep my introduction short. Today, I present to you not only the newest addition to The Royal Academy of Business and Fine Arts, but the future King of our great nation. He has requested to formally address the student body before he starts classes this fall semester, so without further adieu: His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.”

Riigghht. Did you mention he was the prince of the country you’re living in?

Well…he is.

The crowd soars in volume once more, a couple “I love you’s” thrown in for good measure as the prince steps up and you zone out.

From your angle, you can see his whole body from the side, and that even though he’s holding cue cards, he doesn’t use them, placing them face down on the pedestal.

His dark hair is swept back in a suave styling and he’s wearing a simple navy long sleeve button up, black dress pants and matching leather shoes.

The outfit makes him look ever so princely and very much not like a student. More like one of the faculty.

However, what you don’t expect are the small patches of ink on his arm peeking out of his right sleeve. Or just how tight the clothes he wears are on his apparently very muscular form.

You remember Yuri’s words from earlier, only now registering. You knew he had muscles, no one ever shut up about them. But seeing them in person… wow.

You kind of want to sketch him—for anatomy practice, of course.

The prince begins his address to the crowd and an eerie silence replaces the roars from earlier. You take a quick look around and notice that not one person isn’t completely transfixed on him. Even the dean can’t keep her eyes off him.

You give him credit for not balking under the intense gazes of literally everyone. You know you sure as hell would have, never being one to like being the center of attention. At least, not like this.

You clue into his speech as you look back at him. He’s talking about how he found himself as a teenager thinking of what he wanted his future to look like and what he wanted to do with his schooling, which is not only why he took a couple years to explore the continent before enrolling, but why he will be doing a major and a minor at the school.

One for his career, and one for his heart.

You won’t admit to yourself that the sentiment very closely resonates with you.

He continues.

“All that said, I asked to address you all today for one very simple reason, being that, for my time here at the academy, I wish to be treated like any other student. I am not unaware of my celebrity and how I am seen to the outside world. It is not lost on me my place in the world and who I am to become. I know for some that it may be… difficult to see me for anything other than who I am, and this is why I ask you humbly, just for the short while that I’m here, you all treat me no differently than you already do one another,” he pauses for a moment. “I extend my request most deeply to those who will be studying alongside me in my business administration major and photography minor, as I don’t want it to affect my studies.”

Yuri slaps her hand down onto your leg causing you to jerk forward and you clamor to not drop any of your books. Business administration is her major. Her parents want her to take over the family biz after school.

That was probably why she partied so much. Living as much as she can before being thrust into a job she doesn’t want for the rest of her life.

Pity creeps back up your throat at the thought.

Jungkook notices your jerking movement, but only for a second. His eyes meet yours and you hope yours convey ‘sorry for interrupting’.

You may not care about him, but just like him you are not unaware of his status in the world outside the walls of your school.

Yuri, of course, thinks he’s looking at her and not only does her grip on your leg tighten to the point of circulation cut off, she returns to her earlier routine of batting her eyelashes.

You roll your eyes away from her sight, but unbeknownst to you, well within the gaze of Jungkook.

He suppresses a smile at your response to your friend's clear attempts to gain his attention.

You, on the other hand, seem indifferent to him. He has the entire student body watching his every move with hawk-like precision, enraptured. Normal, for him.

But you?

You just seem to… not care. Like he wasn’t anyone special. Like the word in front of his name meant nothing.

And if it wasn't the most freeing feeling he’s felt in a long time.

“Thank you so much for your time, and I’ll see you all around campus,” he finishes before stepping down, security wrapping around him again until he’s barely visible. The dean pops up to conclude the gathering but you aren’t paying attention anymore, too busy trying to peel Yuri’s hand off your thigh.

“Yuri, retract the claws please!” you whisper-yell to your friend. And she does in fact, retract instantly.

“Shit, sorry. My brain is running a million miles a minute,” she says as she pinches herself, shaking her head and smiling. “I’m three years ahead of him in his major. His major YN! But he’s still older than us, which is so hot. I'm so glad he did that tour in the east and whatever else that kept him back for a couple years, it makes this whole situation even better,” you start to worry at the look in her eye as she continues.

“What if he needs a tutor? What if I become his tutor, and we fall in love like a cliche romance movie. I could be the future queen. YN, this could actually happen for me. I could actually get the prince, it’s not some wild dream anymore. I could talk to him and he would talk back and this could happen.”

You can feel that she’ll just keep spiraling, nothing being able to stop her train of thought at this point, so you try your best to at least have her do her thinking in her head.

“Maybe! I wish you nothing but luck!” And you mean it. You don’t think it will happen the way she does, but you never know. And you don’t want to give her false hope.

You’ve always been the realist to Yuri’s optimist.

With the assembly over, most of the crowd files out of the courtyard quickly, prior plans calling to them or classes starting soon.

Only a few stragglers are left behind. You and Yuri are two of them, as well as Adaline, and a couple more you don’t know.

Security starts to spread out and you watch as Jungkook makes his way to the people farthest from you, much to their delight.

It’s a group of guys, all of whom look muscular enough to be varsity athletes. Maybe Jungkook will want to do sports while he’s here. You know that he’s an accomplished rugby player, greatly to his fathers dismay, but to the pleasure of anyone who has about $10 and has access to magazines or wifi.

“Oh my god he’s making his way over. Do. Not. Move. I want him to come to us,” Yuri says, forcing you to stay in your spot. It would be fruitless to try anything anyway. Another lesson you learned the hard way in first year.

She starts fluffing her hair and asking you to check her teeth. You do. She’s in the clear.

Unfortunately, you two would most likely be the last people he greeted, so you had to watch as he made his way down the line of people.

He greets the guys with a handshake and a clap to the back, and the girls with a kiss to the top of the hand.

One thing you notice as he meets more and more people is that everyone still calls him ‘prince’ or ‘your highness.’

It’s automatic for them, they’re not even thinking twice about it, but it’s also completely besides the point of half of his whole speech. He wanted to be treated like everybody else.

It especially irked you when it was Adaline’s turn and she put on her most feminine, formal, and ridiculously overly flirty, “Hello, Prince Jungkook,” before curtseying, blasting her full facade of charm and courteousness.

Ever the dainty, prim and proper duchess, she’s all small laughs and less than subtle flirting, never impolite, and never speaking out of turn.

You wanted to gag, and you’re quite sure that’s exactly what your face conveyed. But Jungkook smiles wide for her, and is as kind to her as he was to everyone else prior. He even flirts back a little bit.

Yeah, you definitely want to gag. What a match those two would make.

But just as soon as he greets Adaline and her friend, he politely steps away and moves on to you and Yuri.

“Hello ladies, what might your names be?” he asks ever so formally.

You gently laugh at being called a lady and Yuri shoots you a look. Jungkook doesn’t appear to take offense though.

“Hello, your highness!” Yuri chirps in the most ‘I'm trying to flirt but trying to not sound like I’m flirting’ voice you’ve ever heard her use. “My name is Yuri Yeun, and I’m actually a business admin major too, just a few years ahead.”

Jungkook lifts her hand to his mouth, giving it a light kiss and she looks like she’s about to explode.

“It’s lovely to meet you Yuri, I’ll look forward to seeing you around the halls,” he says in the same tone he���s used for everyone else. He’s about to face you, but Yuri cuts in quickly.

“If you ever need any help with your studies, just let me know. I’d be happy to help you with anything you might need help with. Having already been through it, I may be able to give a students insight versus a professors.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Thank you for your generosity.” Again that same tone, you mentally dub it his ‘greeting the public like the ever so good royal I am’ voice.

He turns to you and extends his hand for yours.

You reach for it, twisting it so that instead of a hand turned upright to be kissed, it’s a regular handshake. If he wanted to be treated like anyone else here, you sure as hell were going to.

“I’m YN, it’s nice to meet you Jungkook.” At the mention of his name untitled, he pauses, eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not a bad pause, just a surprised one. And by the looks of the small smile on his face, a good one.

Yuri's eyes, on the other hand, almost bug out of her skull at your informal greeting.

“Likewise,” he manages to get out, completely unlike his usually composed self.

You're the only one who hasn’t addressed him with his title, and it’s the most like him he’s ever felt.

Twice in one day—in one hour—you’ve managed to make him feel more human and more like himself than he ever has. With your distinct indifference to him of all things.

Jungkook decides then and there he’s very sure he wants more of it in his life.

He still hasn’t stopped shaking your hand, and you don’t know why that’s the only thing you can focus on. His hand is firm and calloused, the kind that can only be built over years of hard work.

Releasing you the second you think it, he looks as if he hadn’t realized he was still holding on too.

Quick to step back into his princely role, Jungkook says, “Pardon my forwardness, but I just have to say that the two of you are beautiful, and that it’s been lovely to meet you both.”

You swear you see Yuri’s soul ascend from her body at his words. “Thank you, Your Highness! That means so much coming from someone as well met as yourself,” she nearly fawns, and you roll your eyes out of her sight for the second time today.

And for the second time today, Jungkook does not let the gesture go unnoticed. How you hold no fear in showing how you feel in front of others, even those you’ve just met. As if it holds no consequence. 

It doesn’t for you, he realizes. 

You can freely show how you feel without worry of anyone over-analyzing your every facial tic. No fear that a slight misuse of a lip quirk or eyebrow raise could give away national secrets or offend a visiting diplomat.

He envies you for it. For having that freedom he so rarely does.

“You’re most welcome, Yuri. I’m glad you hold my opinion in such high regard.” He flashes her that well practiced bright smile and you already know what she won’t be shutting up about it anytime soon.

“I’ve always been told I have my fathers bone structure but my mothers beauty. I’ll be sure to let them know their Prince thinks the combination is worth complimenting,” you respond, not braggadocious or sarcastic in the slightest.

You know it would make your mom so proud to hear the future king found you pretty, even if you knew the compliment was given to every girl here.

Your father wasn’t in the picture, but that didn’t matter and the prince didn’t need to know.

“I hope they won’t mind a stranger's compliment on their daughter then,” Jungkook says, ducking his head slightly and giving you a smaller smile.

This one felt genuine, like he wanted to hold it back but couldn’t. So you return a small one of your own, to let him know this was an even exchange. You may not feel any type of way about the prince, but you were raised to be kind.

“Any praise for their daughter from the future King would be welcomed any day, I’m sure,” Yuri cuts back in, killing his smile along with it.

You’re sad to see it go.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he responds, princely public persona back on. Stupid flashy smile back on. “What will you two be heading off to do now?”

“What I wanted to be doing for the last half hour in the first place before being hauled down here by this one,” you point a thumb at Yuri. “Finishing my study hour at the library,” you add quickly, before Yuri can get out her answer. You almost wish you hadn't because the hand that had your thigh in a death grip earlier now only somewhat playfully swats your shoulder.

“YN!”

“What!? I’m just being honest. He wants to be treated like anyone else right? That comes with people being honest to you instead of glazing over their answers with pretty little white lies to appease you.”

Yuri looks ready to rip you a new one, but she’s cut off again before she can open her mouth. This time by the prince.

“No, no it’s okay,” Jungkook says before she can swat you again. She stops mid swing at his words, eyes as wide as saucers at being stopped. “YN’s right, I appreciate the honesty, and I apologize for the interruption. I hope your studies will not be too greatly affected because of it.”

“Guess we’ll find out during midterm season,” you say with a smirk that turns into a genuine smile as you see Jungkook look panicked, like he actually thinks he messed up your education by disturbing your study session.

Relief quickly replaces the panic when he sees your smile and realises it was a joke.

Being treated like a regular person also meant being joked with at their expense, and he takes it in stride as his small smile from earlier makes a comeback.

“Well I have class in half an hour,” Yuri says, finally answering his question, “So probably grabbing a coffee from the cafe near the biz-admin building… I could show you if you want?”

“That sounds great actually, I’m still trying to figure out where everything is.”

“Great! Let’s go.”

Jungkook, ever the gentleman, lifts an arm for her to take and you watch them walk off, Yuri absolutely beaming as she glances back at you. You give her a thumbs up before collecting your books and heading back in the direction of the library.

Chapter Two: Unknown Numbers and Sharp Tongues

A/N 2: and so it begins.

[skywalker1dream]

title: the mystery

note: so i just watched Serendipity and i had this idea, but i changed things. hope you like it, hoping you are having good day or night. drink water and eat healthy <3

seabstian vettel x reader

Warnings: None?

---

The train to Italy rattled along the tracks, its rhythmic clattering a soothing backdrop to the journey. The summer sun poured through the windows, casting warm, golden beams across the carriage. You were immersed in a book, the pages a welcome distraction from the monotony of travel. As you turned a page, a flicker of light caught your eye. You glanced up, and your breath hitched.

Sitting across from you was a young man, not much older than you, with tousled blonde hair that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. His blue eyes were fixed on something outside the window, lost in thought. You couldn't help but stare, captivated by the way the light played in his hair, making it glow like a halo. He looked like something out of a fairy tale, and you found it impossible to look away.

Your gaze must have lingered too long, because suddenly, those blue eyes shifted and met yours. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he said nothing. Embarrassed, you quickly returned to your book, cheeks flaming. The silence between you was thick with unspoken words, but neither of you made a move to break it.

Minutes stretched into an hour, the train speeding through the picturesque countryside. You tried to focus on your book, but the presence of the boy in front of you was a constant distraction. Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, he spoke.

"Do you always stare at strangers on trains?" His voice was light, teasing.

You looked up, surprised by his sudden approach. "Only the ones who look like they're glowing," you replied, your tone matching his.

He laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "I suppose I should be flattered then. What's so interesting about a guy on a train?"

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Maybe it's the mystery. Who are you? Where are you going? Why are you on this train?"

He leaned forward, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Mystery, huh? He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Alright, mystery it is. How about we choose nicknames for each other instead?"

You nodded, liking the idea. "hmm you look like a 'Sunshine' to me," you said, thinking of how his hair had caught the light.

He laughed softly, a pleasant sound that made you smile. "Sunshine, huh? I like it." He looked at you thoughtfully. "I'll call you 'Vögelchen' then."

You blinked, unfamiliar with the word. "What does that mean?"

He grinned. "It's a secret. You'll have to figure it out on your own."

You pouted playfully. "That's not fair. At least give me a hint."

He leaned in, conspiratorial. "It’s something small and precious."

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "Alright, Sunshine. I'll figure it out."

For the rest of the journey, the two of you talked about everything and nothing. You shared stories, dreams, and laughed over silly jokes. You felt an instant connection, a bond that seemed unexplainable. Every time you called him "Sunshine" his smile grew brighter, and every time he called you "Vögelchen" your heart skipped a beat, even though you had no idea what it meant.

-----------

"Do you travel often?" he asked, leaning his chin on his hand as he listened intently.

"Whenever I can," you said. "There's so much to see and experience. What about you? Have you been to many places?"

He nodded. "Yes. But it's always a rush, you know? I never get to stay and really experience the places I visit."

"That sounds exciting, though," you said, imagining the thrill of traveling for a living. "Always on the move, new places, new people."

"It is," he admitted. "But sometimes, I wish I could slow down and just enjoy the moment."

You looked out the window, the scenery a blur of greens and blues. "Maybe you should take a break sometime. Enjoy a place just for its own sake."

"Maybe I will," he said, his tone thoughtful. "Where would you recommend?"

You smiled. "Italy is a good start. There's so much history, so much beauty."

"I'll take your word for it, Vögelchen," he said with a wink.

He occasionally switched to Hase or Liebling, each nickname making you laugh and wonder about their meanings.

----

"So, Sunshine," you began, leaning back in your seat, "where are you headed in Italy?"

He shrugged casually. "I'm going to see some friends and take a little break. What about you?"

"I'm visiting family," you said. "I haven't seen them in a while, and they live in this beautiful old house by the coast."

"That sounds amazing," he said, his eyes lighting up. "I've always loved the coast. There's something calming about the ocean."

You nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. It's like all your worries just wash away with the waves."

He smiled, a soft, almost wistful look on his face. "Do you think we'll meet again after this train ride, Vögelchen?"

You felt a pang of sadness at the thought of parting ways. "Who knows? Maybe we will, maybe we won't. But isn't that part of the adventure?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess it is."

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

As the train approached its final destination, a sense of melancholy settled over you. You didn't want the journey to end, didn't want to say goodbye to this mysterious boy who had brightened your day. When the train finally stopped, the two of you gathered your things and stepped onto the platform.

As the train began to slow down, signaling the approach to your destination, a bittersweet feeling settled over you. You didn't want this journey to end. When the train finally stopped, you both stood and gathered your things.

He turned to you, his expression serious for the first time. "Will I see you again?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

You looked into his eyes, feeling a strange sense of destiny. "If we're meant to meet again, we will," you said with a mysterious smile. "Let's leave it to fate."

He chuckled, shaking his head, looked disappointed but nodded in understanding. "Alright, Hase. Until we meet again."

You shook his hand, feeling a spark of something unexplainable. "Until we meet again, Sunshine."

You walked away, your heart light, and your mind filled with the memory of a boy with glowing hair and a captivating smile. As you stepped off the train and into the bustling station, you couldn't help but glance back, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him. He was watching you, his expression a mix of curiosity and longing.

With a final wave, you disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind the mystery of the boy named Sunshine and the promise of a future meeting.

You found a quiet corner of the station and pulled out a notebook from your bag. Inspired by your encounter, you began to jot down your thoughts, capturing the essence of the magical journey you had just experienced. The words flowed effortlessly, and before you knew it, you had filled several pages.

Just as you were about to close the notebook, you noticed a small piece of paper tucked between the pages. Curious, you unfolded it and found a note written in elegant handwriting:

"Vögelchen,

Meeting you today has been an unexpected delight. I hope our paths cross again soon. Until then, keep shining bright.

~ Sunshine"

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. Carefully, you tucked the note back into your notebook and stood up, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. You had no doubt that fate had something special in store for you and Sunshine, and you couldn't wait to see what

weeks later, whenever you saw the sun shining just right, making someone's hair glow like a halo, you thought of Sunshine and that magical train ride. And you hoped that someday, fate would bring you back together.

---

Year had passed since that fateful train journey. You often thought about Sunshine, wondering where life had taken him. You had moved on, building a career and living life, but the memory of that golden-haired boy never quite faded.

One sunny afternoon, you found yourself at a motorsport event, the roar of engines filling the air. You were here on a whim, dragged along by friends who were fans of the sport. As you wandered through the crowd, you felt a strange sense of déjà vu. The sunlight was just right, casting a warm glow over everything.

You stopped near the paddock, watching as a group of drivers chatted animatedly. One of them caught your eye, a tall, blonde man whose hair glowed in the sunlight. Your heart skipped a beat as memories of that train ride flooded back.

He turned, as if sensing your gaze, and for a moment, time stood still. Those same blue eyes met yours, filled with the same twinkling amusement. He walked over, a slow, confident stride, and stopped in front of you.

"Do you always stare at strangers?" he asked, the same teasing tone in his voice.

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest. "Only the ones who look like they're glowing."

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "It's been a long time, Hase."

You felt tears prick your eyes. "Too long, Sunshine."

"And now we're here, in this chaos," he said, gesturing around. "Who would have thought?"

"I certainly didn't," you replied, still in disbelief. "Are you racing?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I am. It's been quite a journey since that train ride."

"Wow," you said, genuinely impressed. "I always knew you'd do something amazing."

He smiled softly. "Thanks. And you? What have you been up to?"

"Mostly work, travel, living life," you said. "But I never forgot that train ride. It was... special."

"It was," he agreed, his eyes softening. "Maybe we were meant to meet again after all."

You laughed, a sound filled with relief and joy. "Maybe we were. So, what now, Sunshine?"

He took your hand, the touch sending a jolt of warmth through you. "How about we start with catching up properly? And maybe this time, we'll keep in touch."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. "I'd like that, Sunshine. I'd like that a lot."

And just like that, the mystery was gone. You had found each other again, just as you always knew you would.

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

byeee

~ sent from my ipheon

[gargoyleandgremlinpress]

Sudden Nature by everbrighter

This MDZS fic/series is a modern AU that's mostly without magic... except there's a heavenly bureaucracy. And every once in a while, it makes a mistake, and sends someone who's died back to earth. This is rare, but frequent enough that hospitals have resurrection wards just in case.

If you're at all familiar with canon, I think we can all see where this is going.

Wei Ying is a a whistleblower on the Wen Corporation in this one, who's adopted baby A-Yuan. When he's killed in an accident, Lan Zhan raises Lan Yuan and lives with his grief... and then Wei Ying comes back. This is a story that's emotional and heartfelt, and very funny in bits, about grief and loss and family, and getting something back you never thought you would, much like canon.

The series is a bunch of interconnected short fic with two long segments. The first one is from one from Lan Sizhui's point of view: "Lan Yuan has lived most of his sixteen years not knowing the man who raised him as a toddler. So when Wei Ying suddenly comes back to life, both Lan Yuan and his dad, Lan Zhan, work to make room in their lives for him. Too bad he has a science project due this week..."

The second one is from Wei Ying's: "Wei Ying comes back from the dead, all of a sudden. Over the course of a week, he remembers what it is to be alive, and what it is to be in love." (Not gonna lie, I kind of love the parts where Wei Ying is adjusting to no longer having the body of a twenty year old, in terms of sleeping for a week on the couch now has CONSEQUENCES.)

But it was the very first part of the series that hooked me, where Lan Zhan falls in love. And it's not who you think.

"Aren’t there classes for this? Aren’t there books a person is supposed to read for this? Should he have done research? Shouldn’t he have prepared? But ah, it’s too late now, and there’s a baby in his arms, face to the shoulder of Lan Zhan’s cable-knit sweater."

I finished the typeset for this fic back in the fall of 2022, and it was in my pile of text blocks to finish binding for Binderary, an annual fanbinding challenge, in February, 2023. It was the last one left. I looked at the text block. I looked at my bookcloth and paper options for the cover. I pulled out two options... and couldn't decide. It turns out, I just didn't have the right combination of colours.

In the interim, I obtained some Duo book cloth, a particular line that has a two-tone colour shift to it, gorgeous in person, but really hard to photograph. The company that makes it, sadly, has gone out of business, and the final group orders for it obtained near epic status among @renegadeguild circles. (It has its own lore. And fic.)

Which is to say, the spine of this book is Duo Dragonfly, and the cover is chiyogami paper. The endbands were my first time trying a double core, in sewing thread, and are a little bit shaky as a result, though I'm pretty happy with the colour combo. Lettering stencilled in gold acrylic paint.

I was going for an ethereal, heavenly feel with the title page, and a shout out to the Toronto setting with the spread on the table of contents. (Hello, fellow Canadians!)

A few interior shots here, and a vaguely Lan cloud used for the section breaks. I did a bit of formatting to mimic a newspaper column for the article that starts off "Thirty-Seven," the long section from Wei Ying's point of view.

I am pretty happy with how it turned out, and glad I held off to get the match that felt right for the cover materials!

And behind the cut for spoilers... the last sentence in the short chapter right before Wei Ying's death gets me RIGHT IN THE FEELS every single time I read it.

Lan Zhan held onto A-Yuan! He held him for fifteen minutes, and then for the next sixteen years it took for Wei Ying to come back from getting milk at the 7-11! Oh my heart. Nnngh.

(Also, I slid in a fan art illustration for the fic from GreenTeaPikachu, so enjoy the drunk!LanZhan Does Parkour as an added bonus for clicking through!)

[hazelkjt]

“The Family She Needs”

Hazel watched the two from afar, sitting off on the side porch of Xbalyav Ty'e. Upon Perseverance's insistence, Zero was teaching her how to read Eorzean. Hazel almost stepped in to teach in the Zero’s stead, as the Voidsent had only recently become proficient in reading the language herself. Zero on the other hand declined the Au Ra's offer, and in the end Hazel understood why. It was a chance for the Voidsent to both prove her mastery of the written language and to bond with Percy without Hazel acting as a mediary.

With her back to a pillar inside the establishment, Hazel could only make out a few words here and there from Zero and Percy as their voices blended into the sea of customers at the restaurant. Nevertheless, those few words Hazel could pick up from the young girl and the light they carried were enough to have a soft warmth bubble up in her chest. She thought nothing could possibly ruin this moment for her. Until he showed up, with a hand on her shoulder.

"First it was Zero, and now Perseverance, you have quite the knack for adopting strays into your family, don't you?" The rhetorical question left Thancred's mouth like an annoying poke at her horn. Hazel closed her eyes and tried to imagine the Scion away, repeating in her mind to not let him get to her.

"Ha ha." She lets out of her gritted teeth, taking note of the coy smirk the Hyur was sporting. Thancred always knew how best to get under her skin, usually leaving it at just light ribbing thankfully.

“So, how has being a mother been treating you?” He asks, leaning against another side of the pillar Hazel was against. The Au Ra turned her head to glare at the man. “Guardian, not mother.” She corrects, giving a flash of her fangs to try and dissuade Thancred from pressing the subject further. Unfortunately for her, the show of intimidation did not land with him the way she hoped. As the glint in his eyes changed to match his mischievous grin, Hazel braced herself for his incoming comment.

“Oh? Does being called a mother make you feel old? I cannot imagine what that would feel like.” His every word was dripping with sarcasm, calling back to Hazel’s teasing of him being a father to Ryne back in the First. He begrudgingly ignored her prodding in the beginning before eventually accepting the title in full. This is different though, she thinks to herself. This is entirely different…isn’t it?

The end of Hazel’s tail flicks in annoyance. “I don’t care about that, it’s just…” her words fall silent for a moment as she glances over at Zero and Perseverance again. The young girl was practically glued to the Voidsent’s arm, eyes wide as she took in all the words on the book’s pages. Hazel couldn’t help but also notice the ever so small curling of Zero’s lips into a smile as she continued to explain the words to Percy.

“It’s just,” the Au Ra continues. “Percy might not remember her mother anymore, but she still holds on to the idea of her. She still has her mother in her heart and loves her.” Pulling her eyes away from the two and toward Thancred, Hazel turns to face him directly. “Do you really expect me to go ‘Hey! I’m your mom now, it’s time to move on?’ Of course not!” She towers over the man, but Thancred doesn’t seem to budge an ilm.

Hazel raising her voice earned a few quizzical glances from the patrons around, but they just as quickly returned to their meals. "You're right, no one expects that of you." His calm yet firm tone snaps the Auri woman out of her slight haze of anger to find quite the serious expression staring her down. She takes a deep breath and lets go of Thancred's shirt...wait, when did she grab him? She clicks her tongue and mentally chastises herself for losing her cool, acting on impulse.

Thancred doesn't seem to let what she did phase him and continues with his point. "What does she want?" The Hyur looks past Hazel and towards the child sitting next to Zero. The Voidsent was helping her sound out a rather large word from the text currently. Hazel couldn't help but glance back and forth from Thancred and Percy, confused as to his point. "What kind of family does Perseverance want? Have you ever asked her that?"

The question sank into Hazel's heart like a dagger. With wistful eyes she looks towards the girl without saying a word. Thancred continues. "She has lost her family, and worse lost the memory of what a family is. But now she has you, but who are you to her? You said yourself before you are not looking to replace her old family but be a new one for her, right?" Hazel's tail droops, the tip grazing the wood floor of the building. She silently nods, not even able to make eye contact with Thancred. Thankfully he gets the message.

"She can still hold on to her love of who came before while embracing the love of those around her. The concepts aren't mutually exclusive you know." The comment hangs in the air for a moment before Hazel lets out a frustrated sigh in response. "I can't believe you of all people are-"

Her train of thought is interrupted by Thancred placing another hand on her shoulder. Unlike last time however, the Auri woman could feel a gentle reassurance come across his firm yet gentle grip. "It is because I am 'me of all people' that I can tell you this." Thancred's eyes darken for just a moment, averting his gaze ever so slightly as well. "Don't make the same mistakes I did. If you truly do love and care for Perseverance then give her the family she needs, whatever form that may take."

She didn't know how to respond, but from the sincere smile on Thancred's face it seemed she didn't have to. Hazel leans back against the pillar facing Zero and Percy as she brings a hand overtop the one on her shoulder. And so in silence Hazel stared out towards Zero, her partner, the love of her life. Slowly but surely her stare makes it's way to the side towards a brightly smiling Percy. Hazel could feel the same warmth building up in her heart when seeing such a sight. She could only hope that Percy felt the same warmth as well.

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [46]

chapter forty-six, act six: be my mistake

masterlist

December 25th 2017

It takes Tommie forty minutes to stop staring at the front door as if he’s going to walk right back through. When she finally does leave the hallway her gaze settles onto the wrapped gift still untouched. 

She’s sitting criss crossed under her green Christmas tree with Button on one side and Allen the other.

The wrapping paper has little dinosaurs wearing cowboy hats, which upon further inspection she realises have been drawn on by hand. She tears it open, then folds it neatly and places it to her side. Her eyes tear up, her thumb traces the leather. 

It’s her book. 

Her lyric book she thought lost forever sits right there in her hands with a blue post it note on top.

‘ Don’t worry, I didn’t punch him, Ross did (again).’

She giggles to herself as she takes the post it note and slots it inside to a page in the middle of the book, the one with the first ever draft of her poem ‘show me yours’.

Beneath the old brown leather book is a very similar one. The exact same book instead this one is a dark green colour.

She flicks open the first page and finds a note has been drawn on the inside cover.

‘The day that I met you I started dreaming. Now I write them down if I remember in the morning

-Yours, Matty’

A few pages have been written on, he writes on one side of a double page then leaves the other blank so she can fill in her own thoughts or change what he has written.

They’re songs. Songs he had written in rehab. About her. For her. She’s not sure yet.

Her eyes scan the pages as she flicks through them all, taking note of the titles scribbled in red ink.

Inside your mind Love it if we made it Be my mistake Sincerity is scary If it’s not with you Mine In love Sometimes About you Playing on my mind

She reads them all. Over and over and over. She only adds to one of the songs he’s written. 

She finds inspiration, she writes. She writes a lot, poetry which turn into songs and songs which become poetry. She finds herself finishing songs from her old book that she’d begun writing years ago. Love songs she’d tried to write about Caleb seem to fall together with a new inspiration in mind.

Matty.

Even in the breakup songs she finds ways to reference him in some way.

She can’t help it. There’s a piece of Matty in everything she does. Not just in her writing, she finds herself gravitating towards clothes of hers that he’d once touched. Like her old The Stone Roses shirt he wore once, or the flannel shirt he’d always ‘borrow’ when he came into her room. She buys his favourite brand of tea bags and stocks the fridge with his favourite pop. She listens to his favourite artist and hums a few tones lower to match his usual pitch. She reads books he had recommended and watches True Romance over and over because she can still picture his happy grin as he mimed the words along to the cinema scene. She finds herself stroking the freckle on her collarbone he once kissed. Touching the part of her hairline he would rest his lips against when he held her close. She finds herself thinking of him. Consumed by him. It’s Matty. It’s always been Matty.

She doesn’t stop writing. The words seem to flow out of her unlike anything she’s ever experienced before. Her hand cramps and even then she continues on with ink stained finger tips delicately turning white pages.

She shifts the book from her knee to the coffee table and as she does something falls out from the back of it. Shuffling awkwardly across the floor and raising the heads of the two dogs who watch her, she reaches for the small photograph.

A smile stretches her lips. It’s of the band a few weeks after she first met them. She was young at the time, thirteen maybe if she remembers correctly. Matty is standing directly behind her with his hand on her shoulder and his chin on her head. She’s smiling so big. She misses it. She misses the band. She misses her boys. She misses her Matty.

July 30th 2007

“You’ll be fine.’

Her cousin's words do little to help sooth her nerves as she clutches his hand. “They’re my best mates,” He continues on as he holds the door open for her, “They’ll love you as much as I do.”

“I’m not sure, Ads.”

“It’ll be fine.”

He promises as he opens the door. Three sets of eyes are on her when she enters and she pauses at the doorway.

It’s the tallest one with a buzzcut that comes to her first with a smile. “Caroline?”

“Tommie.” She says quickly.

“I’m Ross.” He tells her, then with a hand on her back he guides her further into the room to sit on the small two seater they have. 

Before he can settle beside her the space is taken by the long haired guy, he throws an arm over her shoulder and places the other in front of her for her to shake. “I’m Matty. Hann tells us you can play guitar, wanna be in the band?”

Ross shakes his head and pushes Matty away from her by his forehead, “She’s like ten leave her alone.”

“I’m not… ten.” She says quietly. 

Matty shrugs, ignoring her quiet comment, “Well, let her decide, Ross.” He turns back to her then, brown eyes looking right through her, “Would you?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Leave her alone.”

The third guy who she hasn’t learnt the name of yet drags him to stand and pushes him away, Ross takes Matty’s spot while the guy in the beanie offers a shy smile. “I’m George.”

She nods back to him and lets her eyes go back to Matty who’s rocking back and forth on his feet, “I’ve always said having a girl in the band will do us better.”

“Better how?”

He sighs dramatically and Adam shoots a sharp look to George, “Really? You want him to give his whole speech again?”

George shrugs innocently as Matty clears his throat, “First of all, a girl can hit different notes than me, having one to harmonise-”

“Matty.” Ross interrupts, “The girl’s just got here. Let’s leave her alone, eh?”

He rolls his eyes then turns them back to Tommie, “Favourite song?”

She looks back to Adam, already hating her cousin for forcing her to meet his friends, “I don’t know, um.” She looks around at the walls of the little pool house they’re hidden away in. There’s posters and instruments all lying around, the floor is covered in wires and through a barely covered glass window she can see the pool. “I like that one of the new Arctic Monkey album.”

“Which one?”

“Brianstorm.”

He nods in thought, “Alright. Sit back, relax and enjoy, Thomas. We’re gonna blow you away.”

He ushers the guys up and Ross leans towards her, “This is him trying to convince you. Don’t give in, he’s pushy but he’ll give up eventually.”

Looking back, Tommie’s glad he didn’t give up.

She clutches the photo to her chest and leans back against her settee with a sob of solitude. 

With tears in her eyes she crawls across the floor to her sofa and grips her phone. With shaky hands she lifts it to her ear as the phone starts ringing. 

“Hello?”

“Can you come over? Please. I just-” She niffles and rubs the back of her wrist against her nose, “I really need you right now.”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora, @procrastinatinglikeapro, @beatr2x, @byyourside28, @plantinghobbies, @sinarainbows

-let me know if you want to be added :)

[chelseachilly]

til you come back home

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you really miss your boyfriend while he’s in the US for preseason, so you decide to give him a special surprise when he returns ;) warnings: smut, 18+ word count: 3.1k

author’s note: thanks for the request @a-little-bit-rascal​ ! also inspired by everyone (myself included) thirsting over all the ben content in preseason lmao. i hope this is something like what you had in mind ☺️ i’m not super experienced writing smut so bear with me but i hope people enjoy this, i have a couple more one-shots i’ll be working on in addition to the next chapter of this love. oh and the title is from i don’t wanna live forever by taylor & zayn

-

Not to be too dramatic, but you’re pretty sure the two weeks Ben is away in the US for the preseason tour are the longest of your life.

You’ve been with Ben for a little over a year now, and you’ve always found him incredibly attractive. From the moment you saw him at a mutual friend’s party, you were drawn to him. It only took you one drink to decide that you wanted to sleep with him, and two more to actually go for it.

You’re very grateful you didn’t ask him what he does for a living until after he shagged you in your friend’s guest room, as you may have chickened out if you knew he was a hotshot footballer. And also because Ben found it incredibly endearing when you complimented his toned body afterward and asked if he played any sports in his free time.

A few days later, when he finally used the number you gave him and called you up, you were somewhat expecting it to be a booty call. The sex had been great, for both of you, so you weren’t totally surprised by that. You were surprised when he asked you to go to dinner first.

The rest was history, as you found it to be just as easy to fall in love with Ben Chilwell as it was to fall into bed with him.

Your sex life has never wavered since that first date, except for when he’s been away for games or injured and under doctor’s orders not to engage in any physical activities - though he certainly still tried.

Even after all this time, Ben still has a power over you that no guy ever has, the ability to make you crumble with one look from his piercing eyes or the touch of his hand on your thigh.

Which is why it’s incredibly frustrating when he’s looking so fit and he’s thousands of miles away in stupid America.

He’s been looking particularly good recently, and you’re not sure if it’s his tan from the summer holiday, the way his hair has grown out a bit, the extra time he’s been putting in at the gym, or maybe even the confidence he’s getting back after a tough season. Regardless of what it is, it’s really making it challenging to be apart from him.

Every time the Chelsea Instagram posts a picture of him training or he FaceTimes you from his hotel room, you find it increasingly hard not to drop everything at work and just fly to the States immediately.

Watching him play in the match against Wrexham, when he scores a goal in the 94th minute wearing the captain’s arm brand and proceeds to tear off his shirt on live television, nearly makes you scream out of sheer frustration.

How dare your boyfriend be so hot when you can’t immediately have him?

By the time the tour is over and they’re set to return to London, you’re bursting at the seams with pent-up desire. They’re supposed to land in London around eight that evening, and the thought of waiting for him to get through customs, take the team bus to Cobham, then get an Uber to your flat feels torturous.

As soon as Ben texts you that they’re about to take off and that he‘ll be at yours by ten, you decide you can’t wait that long.

You know they’re flying into Stansted, so you whip out your laptop and your credit card and book a room at the nicest airport hotel you can find.

You’re not only eager to finally touch Ben and have your way with him after two long weeks apart, but also to show him how proud you are of him. Despite all the adversity he’s faced over the past couple of years, he’s going into the new season with a positive attitude. He’s not only playing well, he’s taking on more of a leadership role within the club and showing everyone just how crucial he is to their success.

So you’re determined to make your reunion romantic and special for him as well, taking the opportunity to treat your boyfriend before another intense season.

You head over to the hotel in advance to set up the room for him, pulling out all the stops - champagne, rose petals on the bed, candles. You have a romantic playlist ready filled with songs you both love. Ben has frequently shown his love for you with romantic gestures, whether it be whisking you to Paris for a weekend or surprising you with fancy dinners, so you’re excited to be returning the favour for a change.

As their arrival time approaches, you head over to the airport and wait for him.

It seems to take ages, but eventually you see some of the boys begin to trickle in and your heart thumps with anticipation.

A few of the guys who you know well stop to smile and say hello to you on their way to the bus, all clearly a bit surprised to see you there.

“Hey, Y/N!” Reece says with a grin as he passes you. “Does Ben know you’re here?”

“No, it’s a surprise,” you say a bit sheepishly.

“He’s gonna lose his mind,” Reece chuckles. “Bro hasn’t shut up about you the entire time we were in the States-“

“Y/N?”

You look over Reece’s shoulder to see Ben standing there, luggage in hand, looking absolutely awestruck.

He’s wearing his club t-shirt and joggers, and his hair is a bit messy from napping on the plane. He looks adorable, especially his bright smile that only seems to be growing with every second that he looks at you.

You begin to run toward him on instinct and he barely has time to drop his bag before you’re throwing your arms around him and he’s catching you.

Ben’s arms wrap around your waist and he lifts you off the ground for a moment, spinning you around slightly with unbridled joy. It feels so good to be in his arms again, his warmth enveloping you.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Ben murmurs in your hair, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “How - I mean, why are you here? You didn’t have to pick me up from the airport.”

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” you say with a smile, pulling back to look at him and cup his face with both hands. “I missed you like crazy.”

Ben stares back at you for a moment, his eyes overflowing with affection, before leaning in to press a long overdue kiss to your lips. You sigh into the kiss and slide your fingers into his hair, tugging at it slightly.

“Best surprise ever,” Ben murmurs against your lips before deepening the kiss.

You continue to kiss him until you’re both out of air and you realize you can’t go any further in a busy airport surrounded by his teammates.

“Let’s go home,” Ben whispers, pecking your lips once more. “Did you drive?”

“Mhm, but I actually have another surprise for you,” you smirk, patting his cheek. “I got us a room at the Raddison across the street.” You lower your voice slightly. “So I can show you how much I missed you.”

Ben’s eyes light up as he realizes he’s going to get to have you a lot sooner than he thought, and he leans in to kiss you again.

“You’re amazing.”

Ben says goodbye to the boys, receiving a lot of knowing smirks and pats on the back before he hastily grabs his suitcase and your hand and begins to drag you away.

You both quickly make your way over to the hotel, holding hands tightly, filled with anticipation.

When you get to your room, you barely make it through the door before Ben is pushing up up against it and kissing you firmly, his bags discarded on the floor and his arms around your waist.

“I missed you so much,” he sighs against your mouth as you eagerly respond, your hands once again finding his fluffy hair and messing it up even more. “I missed this.”

“Imagine how I felt,” you say between kisses. “Having to watch you be all sexy on TV and you posting all those thirst traps on Insta-“

“Babe, they’re not thirst traps,” Ben defends, slipping his hand under your jumper so he can feel your bare skin.

“Well, it‘s still not fair for you to be looking so fit when I’m not able to have sex with you,” you whine, tugging at his shirt so he’ll get the message and take it off.

Once Ben has removed his shirt, you allow both your eyes and your hands to explore his toned shoulders and arms, gently squeezing his biceps.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Ben says with a small smile as he watches you check him out. “What’s my punishment?”

“I’m not going to punish you,” you say with a sly smile, pecking his lips once more before backing away from him, making him pout a bit at the loss of contact. “You’re getting rewarded tonight, Benjamin.”

“For the wins?” Ben asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“That, and for finally getting your arse home to me,” you smile, reaching out a hand for him to follow you further into the room.

Ben eagerly follows, his eyes lighting up once again when he sees the effort you’ve gone to for your little reunion celebration.

“I get all this just for coming home?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion and his eyes shining with awe.

You shake your head as you light a few of the candles and hit play on your Spotify, creating an even more romantic atmosphere.

“No, you get all this because I love you,” you say softly, shimmying out of the light sundress you were wearing to reveal his favourite black lingerie set. “This is what you get for coming home.“

Ben’s eyes darken and he wastes no time crossing the room to meet you, grabbing your waist and kissing you with such fervour that you immediately moan into his mouth.

His hands trail down to your butt and squeeze slightly before gripping your thighs and hoisting you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and the friction making both of you sigh with pleasure.

He carries you over to the bed, the rose petals scattering as he lays you down and begins hastily removing his joggers. When he’s in only his boxers, he climbs over you and kisses you again.

The sight of him hovering over you, his strong arms holding him up and his fluffy hair in his forehead as he meets your gaze is enough to make you melt into the duvet, your centre already burning with desire.

“What do you want, baby?” you breathe as he begins to trail kisses over your neck and collarbone. “It’s up to you tonight.”

“I wanna fuck you,” Ben says in a gravelly whisper, making you throb even more for him. “Been too long.”

“Then do it,” you reply, bucking your hips upward, desperate for friction.

Ben doesn’t have to be told twice - he immediately brings one of his hands down to touch you over your underwear. He strokes the fabric for a second before slipping his fingers underneath and feeling your folds.

“So wet for me already, love,” Ben murmurs as he begins to rub your clit with his thumb, making you moan.

It doesn’t last nearly long enough before he’s pulling away, and though you want him inside you more than anything right now, you can’t help but whine a bit.

“Patience, baby girl,” Ben says, stripping off your knickers and tossing them to the floor.

He abruptly sits up, pulling you with him so you’re sitting in his lap, and kissing you passionately. You can now feel his hardened cock through his briefs against your bare pussy and it’s becoming torturous to go another second without him inside you.

“Ben,” you breathe between kisses. “Need you.”

“I thought I was in charge?” Ben comments, reaching for your bra clasp and removing it in one swift movement.

“You are, but-“

You’re shut up quickly when Ben takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it teasingly, making your eyes shut tightly with pleasure.

You run your hands through his hair as he pays attention to your breasts that he so clearly missed, eventually trailing his kisses back up your chest and to your lips.

You kiss him hungrily, tugging at his hair a bit and exploring his mouth with your tongue.

Much less gently than before, Ben flips you over and presses you down against the bed, continuing to kiss you as he finally rids himself of his boxers.

Glancing down at you, now laid out on the comfortable mattress completely naked with your hair fanned out against the pillows, Ben takes a moment to catch his breath.  

“You’re fucking unreal,” he exhales, dropping another kiss to your lips. “So beautiful.”

You blush a bit - of course Ben could find a way to fluster you with his words even as you’re moments away from him being inside you.

You kiss him once more before reaching down to take his length in your hand, and it’s already hardened enough that it only takes a few pumps of your hand before he’s fully erect for you.

He positions himself at your entrance and, despite both of your eagerness, waits for your small nod of confirmation as always before he sinks down into you.

You gasp and Ben lets out a low groan as he enters you fully, and he has to pause and hide his face in your neck for a moment to regain control before he begins thrusting into you.

You’re aware that two weeks isn’t that long, but it certainly feels like it’s been ages since you’ve done this. The two of you have a very healthy sex life, engaging in some kind of sexual activity nearly every day unless you’re both exhausted or Ben’s away for a game or something.

The pleasure begins to grow as Ben starts to pick up the pace and intensity of his thrusts, both of your sighs and groans mingling together.

“You feel so good, baby,” Ben says as he reaches up to tangle your fingers together, squeezing tightly. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you more,” you sigh. “Had to get myself off after I watched you score that goal. Missed our tradition.”

It’s become a tradition since you’ve been together that you and Ben have celebratory sex after he scores a goal - as quickly as possible. Sometimes you have to wait until you get home, other times it’s happened in empty rooms at Stamford Bridge or even his car once.

“Fuck, so did I,” Ben groans, thrusting a bit harder this time and making you cry out. “Wasn’t as good, though. Nothing’s ever as good without you there.”

As Ben starts to go faster, you wrap your legs around his waist to shift the angle and get him as deep as possible, making both of you see stars as you’re approaching your climax.

“I wanna cum with you, baby,” Ben breathes, “are you close?”

“Mhm,” you manage to choke out as Ben’s cock hits a sensitive spot inside you.

Ben reaches down and lightly massages your clit with his thumb before thrusting into you once more.

The combination of him stimulating you and burying himself deep inside you makes you lose control, and you cry out his name as feel yourself coming all around him.

Ben is just moments behind you as he pushes into you one more time then crumbles with a low groan, collapsing on top of you.

You stroke his hair as you both come down from your climax, Ben pressing soft kisses to your collarbone.

“I love you so much,” Ben murmurs against your skin, sending a new wave of goosebumps across your body.

“I love you too, Ben,” you whisper, kissing his forehead.

Eventually your bodies stop twitching with reverberated waves of pleasure and Ben gently pulls out of you, leaving you with a peck to the cheek as he quickly runs to the bathroom to get a washcloth and clean you both up.

After you’ve sorted yourselves, Ben climbs back under the covers and opens his arms wide for you to climb into. You happily curl up against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around you, and you think you may have missed this almost as much as the sex.

“I hope you know you’ve set my expectations for coming home unreasonably high,” Ben jokes as he strokes your bare back with one hand. “I’m gonna need you to pick me up at the airport every time now.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you respond sincerely, kissing his chest a few times. “Have I mentioned I missed you?”

“Once or twice,” he laughs, tilting your chin up for another long, tender kiss that makes your toes curl and your heart soar. “I missed you too. I’m so glad we have tomorrow off. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“That’s true, we still haven’t finished the new episodes of The Bear-“

“I meant sex, sweetheart, but that too,” Ben chuckles, “and loads of cuddles. It was so hard sleeping without you while I was gone.”

“I know,” you sigh, burrowing impossibly closer to him and his warmth. “My bed was too cold without you.”

You rest in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of Ben’s embrace, before resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.

“You ready for round two already, darling?” Ben asks with a relaxed smile, brushing his nose against yours.

Without a reply, you slip out of his arms and walk over to pour each of you a glass of champagne, still fully unclothed. Ben’s eyes remain fixed to your body the entire time.

When you walk right past the bed, Ben whines a bit and you can already picture his puppy dog eyes before you turn back around to face him.

“Where are you going?” Ben complains.

“I need a shower,” you say nonchalantly, taking a sip from your glass. “You ready for part two of your reward?”

Ben’s eyes nearly roll back in his head as he rushes to get out of bed comically fast, following you into the bathroom as you giggle at his excitement.

You realize later, after you’ve sucked his dick in the shower and he’s returned the favour back in bed, that you may have sent him the wrong message by rewarding him for driving you mad while he was gone, but oh well.

You’ve got a girls trip to Capri coming up in a few weeks, and you can think of a few ways to get your revenge.

-

thank you for reading!! also let me know if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for any future ben fics! 💕

[norry-yippee]

Aperantly Chat GPT knows what Jegulus is so this is from a writing prompt, 500 words

Regulus Black had always had a love for books, a fact that he rarely shared with anyone. It was his private escape, a solace from the pressures of being a Black. Today, however, he wasn’t alone in his literary retreat. He stood at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts, anxiously awaiting the arrival of James Potter.

James had insisted on joining him, claiming he needed to find a gift for Lily, but Regulus knew better. James had been increasingly insistent on spending time with him, and though Regulus pretended to be annoyed, he secretly relished it.

“Reg! There you are!” James’ voice was unmistakable, filled with energy and warmth. Regulus turned to see him striding towards him, glasses slightly askew and a grin plastered on his face.

“Potter,” Regulus greeted, trying to keep his tone cool but failing to suppress a small smile.

“Ready to dive into the world of books?” James asked, clapping a hand on Regulus’ shoulder.

“Always,” Regulus replied, and they entered the store together.

The air inside was filled with the comforting scent of parchment and ink. Shelves upon shelves of books towered above them, creating a maze of literary treasures. James immediately wandered off towards the Charms section, leaving Regulus to his own devices.

Regulus gravitated towards the Dark Arts section, his fingers trailing over the spines of various volumes. He pulled out a particularly ancient-looking tome, flipping through its pages with reverence. He was so absorbed that he didn’t notice James coming up behind him.

“Find anything interesting?” James asked, peering over Regulus’ shoulder.

Regulus closed the book quickly, a bit embarrassed. “Just… research.”

James’ eyes twinkled with mischief. “Sure, research. How about helping me find something for Lily?”

Regulus was relieved at the change of subject. “What does she like?”

“Something romantic, maybe a bit whimsical. You know, the complete opposite of me,” James said with a chuckle.

Regulus rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. Together, they moved through the aisles, discussing potential books.

“How about this one?” Regulus suggested, pulling a book titled *The Enchanted Rose*.

James took it, examining the cover. “Perfect. She’ll love it. Thanks, Reg.”

They made their way to the cashier, and James insisted on buying Regulus a book as well. “As a thank you,” he said, though they both knew it was more than that.

“Fine,” Regulus conceded, picking out a copy of *Advanced Potion-Making*.

As they left the store, books in hand, James turned to Regulus. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you so relaxed.”

Regulus shrugged, feeling oddly vulnerable. “Books have that effect on me.”

James smiled softly. “I get that. You should let yourself relax more often. It suits you.”

Regulus didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded. They walked in comfortable silence, heading towards the Leaky Cauldron for a butterbeer.

Sitting in the dimly lit pub, Regulus watched as James animatedly recounted a recent Quidditch match. He felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the butterbeer. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged.

As the evening wore on and the pub filled with laughter and chatter, Regulus found himself smiling more than he had in years. Being with James felt right, in a way that he couldn’t quite put into words.

Maybe, he thought, it was time to let down his guard. Just a little.

And as James clinked his glass against Regulus’, making a toast to new friendships and unexpected adventures, Regulus allowed himself to hope for more moments like this—moments where he could just be himself, with James by his side.

[typellblog]

Suruga Devil - An Analysis

Something I’ve been thinking about is how even though Oshino disappeared six books ago, some way or another a specialist manages to crawl their way into every arc. Almost irregardless of the circumstances, these kids need someone to explain the problem to them. To bring them face to face with the truth they haven’t quite realised yet. 

In Hanamonogatari, though, advice might be the last thing that Kanbaru Suruga needs - despite, or perhaps because so many different people want to offer it to her. 

I’ll be riding my arc formula all the way from Bakemonogatari until the wheels fall off, so I think here I want to talk about the title again. 

Suruga Devil. Isn’t that odd? It almost sounds like we’re dealing with the exact same oddity as her first arc. Except there’s a different Devil-sama in this one, someone who has more devil parts than Suruga herself. Numachi Rouka is also an oddity, by virtue of being already dead, and by that logic Suruga must be the ‘victim’ of her haunting. 

The theory is floated here that all ghosts work similarly to Hachikuji. They hang around because of a certain regret, and people with a similar regret or issue are the only ones that can see them. What, then, is Rouka’s?

I think there’s something to be said for how obviously she wants to play basketball with Suruga again. 

Even in a series full of unreliable narrators Rouka is unique in that we don’t get to see her internal narration, just how she chooses to present her life story to Suruga. There are hints that she was spinning it a bit - Higasa mentions that ‘family issues’ Rouka hardly talked about also contributed to her suicide, not just the broken leg. 

Frankly I see in Rouka someone trying to put up a strong front to hide how severely something actually affected her. She refers to herself derisively as misfortunate, acknowledges the suffering that it caused her, but still tries to make herself seem distant from it, like it’s something she’s already dealt with. Like her misfortune-collecting has made her happy again. 

Her initial attitude is hostile, confrontational. She seems like she’s trying to upset Suruga, describing her own activities in a tone that makes it obvious how unapologetic she is about the scumminess of it all. She wants to feel powerful, in control of the situation, even if it means she has to come off as an asshole. 

In their final match Suruga leans into it, matching Rouka’s hostility and desire to compete with her rather than running away from it. I want to say it’s a way of paying her final respects.

Rouka says she didn’t feel like she ever suffered a clear loss in life. Her injury didn’t come from a dramatic final showdown. Losing her scholarship didn’t make it impossible to continue schooling. And her leg’s rehabilitation didn’t make it impossible for her to live on. But at the same time, all of these things ground her down until she didn’t know what to do. Rouka says you can run away from almost every problem, and she did. She ran away from school. She ran away from getting a job. And in the end, she ran away from life. 

Kaiki remarks to Suruga that she can’t run away from all her problems. In his case he makes it brutally literal, but in an emotional sense he’s not somebody Suruga can ignore either, this weird older dude that has a history with her mother. Koyomi and Hitagi apparently told her to run away as soon as she met him, but they must not have considered he might have no ill will towards Suruga, not do anything that justifies running away from him. 

When Rouka gets on top of Suruga and draws close enough to kiss, she could run. She knows she could run. She doesn’t. Did you want her to kiss you? Some things you can’t run away from, because deep down you don’t want to. Like the dark reverse side of a wish.

For Rouka, the Rainy Devil is a competitor. It actually does something to solve people’s problems, where her method allows these anxieties to work themselves out by having the people in question do nothing at all. Some things are only made worse by worrying about them - in the hands of the Rainy Devil these problems that may have worked themselves out over time instead get escalated into potentially life-destroying issues.  Rouka isn’t one to make use of the devil’s arm, Suruga thinks. She would simply run away from the problem, not rely on external means to solve it. She’s strong like that. Strong enough to pretend her problems don’t matter to her. 

Only to pretend, though. The phrase “It’s better to regret doing something than regret not doing it” comes up. Rouka is of course on the side of regretting not doing something. A third path between victory and defeat. It has its advantages, Suruga does acknowledge it. But it can’t resolve anything. Rouka’s problems still exist, she just isn’t facing them. What Suruga does is make Rouka confront her and in doing so symbolically confront everything. It gives her a clear reason for her loss. It lets her let go. 

I think the reason that Rouka is so confrontational with Suruga, so eager to play basketball again, is because she knew this on some level. She prefers to regret not doing something, but of course that means she still regrets not doing something. She still wants to do it, still wants to play a proper match and finish off their middle-school rivalry.

I wondered what Rouka’s specific regret was, as a ghost, and while that game is about as close as anything, it still feels like I’m missing the big picture. Rouka doesn’t just collect misfortune, she collects devil parts. The things that show up physically on your body to prove you made a wish. The things that remain so long as that wish isn’t granted. The physical manifestation of regret for a choice that still has Suruga checking the news every morning to make sure she didn’t do anything during the night without remembering. 

Hachikuji gets people lost because she is lost. Rouka frees people from the regret of doing something because she herself never did anything about the situation she found herself in. It’s why she’s so interested in hearing the stories, along with the devil parts. People who did something she could never do. People who failed and became even more unfortunate than her, thus proving her right. 

She takes the devil parts from people who don’t want them anymore. You can’t run away from something if you really do still want it, but Suruga is well over it at this point. Consider how Suruga deals with the devil’s continued presence in her life. Refusing to run out of fear that someone might be faster than her. She used the arm to pursue Hitagi to the point of destruction, but in equal measure refused to do so, and in doing so was unable to replicate Koyomi’s success. In that sense, when Kaiki says you can’t outrun everything, he’s telling her that it’s okay to lose. It’s okay to try, and then fail. It’s okay to just hand the arm over to Rouka and move on. 

Higasa remarks that Suruga seems too positive of a person to have heard the Devil-sama rumor - because that’s the type of person Suruga is seen as. Polite, enthusiastic, direct, a star athlete, a hard worker,  a rich kid, a goody two-shoes. The type of person who would take issue with Rouka’s methods. Rouka expects a fight, because in a lot of ways Suruga is Rouka’s opposite, someone who would slap her in the face upon hearing about what she’s doing. 

At the same time, Suruga is the type of person to immediately second-guess that reaction. She lets Rouka’s hand sit on her chest for an uncomfortable length of time (the symbolic gesture associated with taking her devil arm!) because she feels bad about hitting her. Of course she would. She straps her arm to the wall at night because she’s scared of hitting someone again.

In other words, contrary to expectation, she’s the exact type of person that would encounter Rouka. The correct type of person to hear the Devil-sama rumor. The type of person that’s still burdened by the regret of a wish that turned into an obsession. Exactly the type of problem that can be solved, will be solved, simply by doing nothing. 

I said I still wanted to talk about the arc formula, and here it raises an interesting question of where exactly the specialist comes in. Kaiki, of course, is prominent in this novel - but even though he helps, he hardly explains anything. He has a policy, Rouka tells us, of only sharing half his information. It’s a little like Oshino’s rule of balance, but even less helpful. He shies away from the spotlight out of what I imagine is self-preservation - running away from Koyomi and Hitagi in Karen Bee, blatantly subverting their expectations that he explain Karen’s oddity. He does it anyway, but it’s pointless. The fever disappears on its own. 

Where Meme’s balance is to make sure he doesn’t interfere too much in others’ problems, ensure his surprisingly impressive spiritual abilities don’t create further disturbances in the course of solving them, Kaiki’s balance is to make sure he always has another opportunity to mess with people in the future, to ensure his practical-minded refusal to believe in spirits entirely doesn’t end up biting him in the ass. 

Even so, we’ve come to expect someone to come and clear things up, explain that which our protagonist was too slow to grasp on their own, put a neat little tie on the end of things. Like Tooe Gaen, perhaps? Deceased but apparently no less of an authority on the supernatural. “The motivation for justice is envy of evil,” we’re told, explaining precisely what left Suruga so unsettled about Rouka. Rouka did what she could never do, just like Suruga did what Rouka couldn’t. 

It’s a nice enough explanation, putting things into the dualistic perspective that Tooe seems to prefer. “If you can’t be medicine, then be poison, otherwise you’re just plain old water.” It doesn’t matter if you help others or hurt others as long as you do something, act in accordance with your nature, don’t let yourself be bound by the restrictions of society or conscience. Those are the type of people she seems most interested in, and the type of person Suruga ought to become as a result of this arc - someone who acts, as opposed to the inactive Rouka. 

And yet neither her nor Rouka seem to fit into Tooe’s format. Rouka, despite being plain water, is still muddy. A swamp. That mud, composed of everyday misfortune, is nothing nearly so interesting as to be called poison. Suruga is even more confused. A flash-flood, capable of clearing up the dirt that Rouka collected?

Suruga didn’t envy Rouka because she was evil. The implication there is that Rouka took pleasure in shattering social boundaries that Suruga felt obligated to stick to. But Suruga has already experienced what it’s like to violently pursue one’s own wishes in disregard of the feelings of others. It’s not fun! Suruga is jealous of, if anything, Rouka’s coolness. Her ability to roll with the punches, accept what happened to her with a laugh, shamelessly use her misfortune and pitiability as weapons. 

And Rouka, despite how she presents herself, was quite clearly not evil. Her offered ‘help’ is for entirely self-centered motives, and yet she’s much more concerned with the lives of others than her own. She does act like she doesn’t care about the people asking her for help, but all the same she does redirect those with more serious issues to the correct services. She did say she genuinely wanted to help Hanadori Rouka, the girl she met with the left leg, which is surprising from the perspective of Suruga’s vague animosity towards her, but completely understandable if you just think of Rouka as a normal girl. 

Suruga is neither good nor evil, as Koyomi puts it at the end of the book. She didn’t do the right thing, or the wrong thing. Neither did Rouka. They simply couldn’t look away from one another. Looking away, like running away, is only something you can do if you don’t really want to look. Even if Suruga ran away Rouka would have kept haunting her. She had the qualifications for it. Similarly, I feel like Rouka simply couldn’t look away from people’s misfortune, from the devil parts. Oddities arise for a reason, people have to want them on some level, and perhaps that’s true from the oddity’s side as well.

Speaking of Koyomi, though, he’s the last to give advice. He encounters Suruga at her lowest point, where she doesn’t know what to do, and quite literally helps her get back on her feet. His specialist qualifications are a bit iffy, but this is a timeskip - he’s in college, he’s more or less overcome his coming of age stuff. The thing is, his advice is to ignore everyone’s advice. For Suruga to act like herself, act on her instincts. To do neither the right thing or the wrong thing. 

Ironically, characteristically, she takes the advice anyway.

She’s immediately less unsettled around Rouka, more confident in how she wants to play it. I think about her bluntly stating she’s an exhibitionist. It’s a pervy joke, something that’s been oddly absent in this book so far. One of the things we realise, looking at the world from Suruga’s benefit, is that her perversion, her exhibitionism, frankly even her queerness and interest in BL was much played up for the benefit of Koyomi. At the same time, though, I don’t think that makes it somehow false or an inaccurate representation of herself. She was able to be more overt with these things around Koyomi, because he was accepting of it, and that’s a largely positive thing. 

It’s not a coincidence that her meeting with Koyomi gives her the confidence to be more like that with Rouka, or that this line about exhibitionism actually ties into an important part of her character. You see, right after, Rouka says it must have been tough for her to conceal the devil’s arm. 

I think about the arm as representative of the stigma of queerness, as something that paints her desire for Hitagi as animal and violent (even as it’s capable of finding perfectly healthy expression on the flip side), as something that she has to conceal from others. Recall how in Suruga Monkey her being a lesbian is revealed right after the arm itself, and it’s her sexuality that Koyomi finds the more shocking. 

From that perspective, you could think about Rouka as helping the devil part bearers integrate into society by removing the outward signs of their queerness, their difference. She takes it all on herself, with her oddly dyed hair, baggy tracksuit, put-on limp. She takes it all on herself because she no longer needs to live in normal society. No longer can. 

It kind of explains more of Suruga’s hesitance to let Rouka go. It’s not like she wants to keep the arm. It’s not like it represents the truth of her sexuality in itself. She was gay before the arm and will be after. I think it moreso represents Tooe’s approach to identity and self-change. You can be whatever you want, but becoming is an inherently painful process.

We’d like to think that Tooe’s message was that you should learn to change yourself rather than relying on suspicious magical artifacts, but the fact that she exposed Suruga to that risk in the first place indicates she’s fine with danger as a teaching device. Fine with her daughter becoming poison. Maybe even fine with her killing someone.

In the end, all the arm does is give her an inferiority complex. Her admiration of Hitagi, her graceful running style, is built on the fact that Suruga herself doesn’t feel she can run like that. She’s faster, but also uglier, more desperate. Her admiration of Koyomi, his self-sacrificing nature, is built on her shame over not being able to help Hitagi more herself. She’s self-effacing, but also uglier, more jealous. 

Suruga is glad to lose the arm, but she still feels uneasy about Rouka getting it. About being saved by someone else. Aren’t people supposed to just go ahead and save themselves? In this one thing, at least, Rouka is a more helpful specialist than even Oshino Meme. 

On that topic, the last person to give Suruga advice is Rouka herself. At the end of their second meeting, Rouka tells her to live a normal life. Do all the things I couldn’t do. She’s a negative example, telling people to not end up like her. Just stay in the closet. This, too, will pass.

That, kinda sucks though. Integrate into society? Drop all visible signs of your queerness? Get a boyfriend? Rouka’s channeling old tragic yuri tropes for the last time she thinks they’ll ever meet. 

Is that really what Rouka thinks? Does she really envy Suruga’s potential to be normal? To get a job? Because the opposite is precisely what Suruga envies about her - Rouka’s ability to ignore social expectations. The thing is, after their final match, the advice changes again. Who cares about studying for exams? Just start playing basketball again. This is really the only thing I can imagine Rouka envying Suruga for. It’s the path where she gets to make use of her arm again. 

Saying that basketball is representative of Suruga’s queerness here is even more of a stretch than applying that to her arm, but there’s at least one important respect in which the analogy kinda works. 

The way she wins the game. 

Basketball is a game for more than one player. The phrasing is a little awkward - ideally it would read “Basketball is a game for two players” to make the comparison to romance even more explicit, but - that isn’t true, is it. So the fact that there are exactly two of them playing becomes a little more significant, I think. 

They have to combine their efforts to get the ball into the hoop. That’s a disingenuous way of putting it, when they’re on opposite sides, but it’s still true. Rouka, after all, couldn’t get it in alone. That wasn’t her aim in the first place. She was just trying not to lose. 

Suruga didn’t just let her lose decisively for the first time, she also let Rouka win. Rouka wasn’t passed to, much, when she used to play. This is the first time she realises that basketball can’t be played alone.

And, well, when you put it in that sense, basketball isn’t just representative of romance, it’s representative of life in general. When you look back on Rouka’s backstory, at this point, one thing stands out. She never relied on anyone else. She never had anyone to rely on. It’s so bad that she ends up in Suruga’s orbit. The anime opening portrays what it might be like if they had a closer relationship, but that’s something that had to be invented in retrospect, because they really didn’t talk much. They didn’t even properly play against each other much. But when it comes down to it, Rouka is drawn to Suruga’s family inheritance of the devil parts, Suruga’s family inheritance of an annoying conman uncle, and in the end, back to Suruga herself. 

Suruga’s not the only person who ever truly understood her, as you might expect from a school rivalry situation. Suruga is simply the only person in a position where it’s even possible to truly understand her. The only person that could have drawn that final dunk out of her. The only person who could remind Rouka that she really did enjoy basketball, enjoy life.

In doing so, it serves as a reminder to herself, as well. 

Thanks for reading, everyone! Call this the Pride Month special, even though I didn’t discuss the queer themes of this story as much as I would have liked. Next: Otori. Oh boy.

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

The badge of the Heroic Order. They are personalized. Valen carries his on the left shoulder, underneath his fur cloak.

Valen - Headcanons .............................................................

I like the apparently ditched background info for Valen (see this post again), but in case you don't know it, here's a short summary:

Valen's born into the ruling family of Stoutstone Isle but has never taken interest in that heritage, often running away to explore the surroundings and mingling with the common folk and soldiers, joining them at their campfires to dream about stories of heroism, all for the girls. xD He kept his true identity hidden but it was revealed when he wanted to formally join the army (navy, in this case) at age 16. The soldiers now treated him differently, particularly as he was given a fake superior title. In anger he demands to go through the training properly, but his grandfather (and ruler) denies equally angrily. So Valen throws out his rank and walks off, leaving the island behind. He continues as a mercenary, traveling all over the Empire, until ... (my headcanon starts here) ... being dragged into the Heroic Order by Hogan. Since then he's a member of the Heroic Order and Solitaries, living in Holistone.

I am placing this isle in the rough region of north/west Great Britain. Same weather, same grey tones everywhere, same accents… xD I don't think of his family or home as a pretty castle full of glitter and pomp. It is just as gritty and dirty as the rest of the island, dark rugs on the walls and all wealth hidden behind thick grey stone walls, stashed away inside trunks. It's probably VERY far from Holistone, being on the other side of the Lightbearer Empire.

His dad is some low-level admin under his grandfather's rule. He might never rise to the throne, though, giving way to others to administrate the island until Fay's take-over.

When he was 8 years old, Valen's mother died shortly after giving birth to Fay. She [Valen's mother] always encouraged his son to explore the world with his own eyes, instilling in him the belief that actions speak louder than words or ranks or titles. He then begins to "run away" regularly from home to seek out the truth outside the castle walls.

Valen never went to a school (properly). He had private lessons, of which he sat through enough to know the basics. Most knowledge is self-taught, by reading or talking to people. This means he can have entertaining bouts of ignorance! xD

When there is something he's interested in, he takes the time to educate himself. He is reading educational books but is not at all into fiction. He does read poetry for inspiration on how to charm the girls (in exchange for intel, of course).

He most certainly does appreciate beauty whenever he sees it. Be it a beautiful appearance, a wonderful character, a moving situation, a good piece of music, a stunning picture… but as a man of (charming) words, most of all, a skilful application of words strung together poetically.

He strangely feels inclined to write experiences and emotions down poetically. Hence his admiration for those who can and his understanding for those who cannot but try. Since his penmanship is not of importance to him, and the ladies usually don't need anything very complex to cooperate, he isn't excellent but also not bad. He's right at this place where one wants to try badly, but is too aware of one's weaknesses, so that nothing would ever be sufficiently good enough to match the need.

Valen is stupidly confident and nonchalant about it, which bothers his colleagues sometimes often. It's hard to describe, but it's just this little sting of jealousy, if you perceive someone else to succeed so seemingly easy, as if it was no big deal. It appears as if Valen doesn't value the effort to get there or has no appreciation for the potential risk involved, and that can be off-putting for others. Firstly, that is, of course, not true and it is always their own insecurities at play and not Valen's fault. And secondly, this doesn't mean Valen's free of doubts or insecurities himself. ;-)

............................................

Valen isn't interested in the conflict with other factions. He's not the guy to "rescue the world". But he IS the guy to rescue "HIS world". He is concerned with the well-being of those in his immediate surroundings because that's all that matters (and from there the results ripple like waves beyond his world).

Hence the good relationship between him and Merlin. He takes care of her, while Merlin is taking care of the world at large. Merlin's power forces such a responsibility on her, removing her from the small worlds people live in. It is making her dependent on people such as Hogan and Valen, who keep her involved in the small worlds of theirs. Human well-being depends entirely on these real, small world relationships (and keeps them humble).

He has failed some previous jobs. Not everyone or everything can be saved or protected. It is still gnawing on his mind occasionally, making him feel rather small and powerless in the face of destiny. Then, for a short time, the smile on his face fades.

..............................................

His scar happened among the things that led to Hogan engaging Valen around 5-6 years ago. Valen somehow was at the right time at the right place and got entangled with some business near Holistone. It was an injury taken because Valen stepped up to go beyond what was ever expected from him. Hogan immediately liked the young man and offered him a place to work. Valen was unemployed at that time and Hogan didn't expect he would win him over with the "meagre" pay he could offer but Valen ended up accepting after all.

Valen really just lives by his own honor code and as long as he serves the one he chose to follow (Hogan), all is well for him. In the end, serving under Hogan in the Heroic Order is just his latest choice of work, not least because it granted him the knighthood. There is probably nothing better than that but as hinted at, I think he would have a difficult time later to decide upon his future if Merlin ever made him choose between becoming her life-long personal knight or staying with Hogan. (He said so pretty much straight at the beginning but I consider that a move which had more to do with drawing the truth out of Merlin rather than being a serious consideration at that point.)

Valen also has no real military training. xD LOL But he got a quick run-down from Hogan, not personally, but he arranged something so that Valen could catch up. There was nothing much he needed to learn, other than how exactly the hierarchies are structured and what bureaucratic requirements must be met etc.

................................................

I think Stormcaller is a fabled sword actually originating from Stoutstone Isle. Owning that sword is basically a childhood dream since it features so much in local folktales. They say its true potential can only be unlocked by someone worthy of wielding it. How it ends up in an auction, in Holistone no less, I don't know. But it seems to have been considered as nothing but a pretty sword to be kept on a wall, being mindlessly passed on from one rich to the other. Until Valen happened to walk past the auction house seeing the items on for that night's event. I don't know how exactly he got it, but I am 100% certain that he did not simply make a bid and won it. xD Nonetheless, the sword seems to be rightfully in his hands afterwards, as there are no claims made otherwise.

Stormcaller makes use of gems, by the way. Fay would probably have tons to say about that. xD The electricity we see in-game is actually known to Valen also. He can feel the buzzing power running through the sword when he touches it and how it enables him to move faster and deal more than melee damage to his foes. While those he attacks get stunned by the magic, Valen only takes the positive effects of it, making him… truly the one who is worthy of wielding it.

Regarding his second sword (further HCs recorded here): Valen says "it's not the right time to use it", suggesting that there is going to be a specific time for it to be used. Reminds me a little of Walker who used his old friends gun to get revenge. At the moment, this is a bit too much of a stretch, thinking that Valen might use it in similar fashion. He isn't really the character for such actions. Instead, I think it's more along the lines of a promise made not to use it until a certain condition is met. A promise important enough to carry that sword for years. To whom he made that promise? Hmmm… ;-)

...............................................

Valen started playing poker when he became a mercenary. He enjoys the psychological tactics it involves and uses his out-going inclinations to massively confuse the other players. xD

He's frugal by being too lazy to shop. He saves up merely by not knowing what to spend it on. Most of his salary goes towards food and drink. He lives very minimally.

Even if, further down the line, his family house came hunting him down, he would never return to Stoutstone Isle. He just doesn't see any scenario in which he'd be happy doing so. He makes to claims to any heritage rights, either. He's left and he's gone, leaving the isle fully to sort out it's own problems. (Maybe a reason why that canon was ditched, since it seems irrelevant to his backstory if it never came up again in any sort of relevance.)

And that's it. For now. xD Again, thanks for reading this wall of text. <3

EDIT: ditched the idea about Valen's dad and leaving it open regarding his mother, being dead or not... Also added a link to the headcanons regarding his second sword.