#let it be noted just to be crystal clear here no she was not wearing a mask when she said the first one

[gaydelgard]

coworkers b like "ohhh its so scary that the girl who always masks is the one that got covid"

she is simply the only bitch testing for it

[barbieaemond]

And I dream of a grave

Header by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs 💕💕

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: angst (!), smut, too many references to graves/burying, mentions of Blood & Cheese, miscommunication, Aemond's coping mechanism is violence and sex, in this order (good for him)

Word count: 3.8k

Author's note: the gif is self explanatory. This is a prequel to A Curse for a Curse, but can be read as a standalone. Big thank you to @irenadel for giving me the idea and being one of the most supportive souls <3

Taglist: @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @multyfangirl

MASTERLIST | English is not my first language

This is more than tempting the Gods. This is forsaking and impudently turning their backs on them.

As she sits down at the banquet, her mother’s words echo through her mind like the vexing sound of the wind on a storm’s night. It sets an unpleasant weight on her lungs, the close and yet shapeless feel of something dreadful. She’s almost grateful, looking around, to ascertain she’s not the only fool dreading this whole act.

The Dowager Queen sits at the table, barely able to contain a grimace. Queen Helaena, she is certain, has never looked so pale, her eyes so vacuous and yet so full of something unknown, elusive, smoke clouding and clearing her unnatural stare. The Hand has conveniently made himself absent. She can’t blame him. Actually, she envies him. If only she too could have been spared such a farce. But as the wife of the King’s brother, the very one they’re all supposed to celebrate tonight, she cannot do that, can she?

To cheers and the blaring of trumpets, the King enters shoulder to shoulder with his brother, tall and proud in his stride, wearing dark green velvet for such a special occasion, and such a special title.

“Do you know how they’re going to call you from now on?” the Queen Mother had asked when he came back from Storm’s end, dripping rain and mud and war.

“I do, Mother.” Aegon had answered, twisting a knife from his seat at the head of the table; she had never caught that glint of satisfaction in his eyes, not like that; it wasn’t dimmed by wine or flesh, but sharp as the blade in his hand. “A title he should be proud of.”

Pride was ever the easiest thing to wear for Aemond, the softest glove gliding on his skin, born out of a pit so deep and full of insecurities and negligence that that same endless depth had grown out of proportion in order to fill itself. To even try scratching his pride was like trying to climb the highest mountain with bare hands. She had cut her palms open to do so.

“What happened, Aemond?�� she had asked once alone in their chambers.

“You know what happened.”

“What really happened?”

His good eye had pierced her as if she were made of crystal, but his jaw was too set, on the verge of breaking his own teeth if he carried on keeping the guilt, and truth, trapped inside.

“I didn’t want to.” He whispered, coming down from the peak, “I didn’t want to kill him. I only wanted—”

“Revenge? Well, you had it. Did it make you feel good? Did you bring that boy peace at last?”

It took him a lifetime to say no; a whispered sound, choked even, as if he had bitten off his tongue to get it out of that pit where he had never looked again.

He was biting his tongue in the council, the faintest clench in his jaw but here, here in the council, here in the world, he had to keep that pit buried and stand straight on the highest peak, looking up and up, never down, never back. How could he, how could he admit he had lost control. It was easier, safer, to let them think of him a monster, rather than just human.

“I salute you, brother.” The King had said, raising his cup “True blood of the dragon! We shall have a feast in your honor!" Otto had merely lowered his head in defiance, going unnoticed in the eyes of his King and grandson, drunk with power and finally free of his mother's leash, unaware that a golden noose now held him in check.

He had summoned jesters, musicians, even some dancers to coddle his brother, and raise him higher and higher. She imagined she just had to wait for the fall. Or perhaps pray to the Seven to overlook the insult, to keep a mortal up there with them for a little more. But then again, they shouldn’t ask the Gods for mercy. Someone more unforgiving, more bloodthirsty. Someone who, just as her husband and his brother and each one of their cursed dynasty, did not listen to either Gods or men.

“A toast!” the King says at one point, turning to his left. “To my brother Aemond and a long overdue justice, is it not?”

Out of courtesy and duty, she grabs her cup and raises it, but as everyone at the table sips their wine, all she tastes is contempt, and the cup hits the surface untouched. But not unseen.

“Brother, wine may cloud my judgment, but it seems to me that your beloved wife does not share the sentiment of this fine evening. I wonder why.”

She holds the King’s demanding stare with a firm one, aware of Aemond looking at her even if his eye is fixed on the table. He has ignored her for the whole night, not sparing her a single glance. Because she owns the truth, doesn’t she, and it’s a knife pointed at his back.  

“May I speak my mind, your Grace?”

There’s the slightest shift in Alicent’s posture, as if she were desperately waiting for her, or anyone, to cease all of this, to say this isn’t right.

Aegon pulls a thin, lazy smile and tilts his silver head, swirling his cup. “Why, of course, Princess. My brother tells me you have a habit of doing so.”

“Did he, now?” she resists the urge to scoff; such a despicable habit for a woman in this world.

“Fret not, good sister, I’m certain he holds no grudges against you for your silver tongue.”

“Oh, I’m quite certain too, your Grace. I know for a fact that he likes it.”

A few lords can do very little to hold their snickering, Aegon himself does not hide his malicious smirk, petty at the edges. It must run in the blood.

“Careful though, you don’t want to spend too much time talking, lest you leave my poor brother without any heir! It’s been a while since you two lovebirds tied the knot, isn’t that right?”

She glances beside her, surely Aemond won’t let that slight insult pass, but he stays still and silent like a statue. She can’t quite believe what she’s witnessing. This is the same man who would call the crowned head at the table wastrel, depraved, disgrace.

So much for a disgrace, now that he fosters your pride and lies.

“I can assure you, good brother, that the talking is well outweighed by other activities that involve very few words.”

Aegon plasters a big grin on his face, yet she’s not finished. “But perhaps the Gods are sparing me the burden of bringing a child in such troubled times. A realm at war is not the best place to live in, is it not?”

“It depends on which side you’re on, Princess.”

There’s suspicion in his tone, but she just blinks at him. “My apologies, I was not aware that my loyalty to your House, and my husband’s, was to be questioned.”

“Come now. We are bound by what if not words?”

“I was under the impression that the Crown should fear his own kin more than a simple foreign girl from the West.”

At that, Helaena lets out a strange noise, something close to a wince, and silence falls all over. It is only now that Aemond undoes the stone he walled himself in and acts as he always does when he feels belittled, or worse, threatened. He shuts her out.

“I’m afraid my wife is growing tired, brother. ’Tis best for her to retire.”

She bites her tongue and turns her head. There’s no mistake in his tone, that is an order. She stares at him and he stares back, blankly, and then, just as it is expected of her, she obeys.

She goes without saying a word, aware of Aemond’s eye on her, of Aegon’s little victorious giggle. He snaps his fingers and two dancing girls flock to his brother. She knows this because she can’t resist but turning before disappearing. The girls are said to come from Lys, no less. But he’s not sparing them a single glance. His eye follows her out of the hall, and even after.

Candles almost extinguished, casting a soft glow in the bedchamber, dim but enough to make the shape of her body visible under the covers.

“I know you’re pretending to be asleep.” He says, placing his dagger and eyepatch on the nightstand.

She doesn’t bother to wait a single moment to fly her eyes open. “Was I not supposed to pretend I was tired?”

When she gets no answer, she turns to face him, finding him on his feet near the bed, undoing the buttons of his doublet. His eye is on her, though, wide, as someone ready to hunt but seeing traps everywhere.

“Did you enjoy your feast?” she asks with piqued interest. “Such a shame that I missed most of it. I was eager to watch the girls from Lys dance. How were they?”

“Enough. You should thank me for dismissing you. You were bordering on high treason.”

“Since when telling the truth is considered high treason?”

“Is that what you were going to say? The truth? To make me look like a fool in front of the whole court?”

“I was only going to say that the feast was an insult and a challenge to the Gods or any common sense. And I know that beneath all the pats on the shoulder and the endorsement on your brother’s part, you are of the same mind.” she hopes to see the barest glimpse of validation on his face, at least here, where he can leave behind his pride and admit he made a mistake. Is that what you call starting a war?

But his expression is as closed as ever, wary.

She wishes it would hurt less than it does. “Of all the people ready to betray you, how quick you are to assume I’d be the first.”

“We’re bound by words, are we not?”

“Take your brother off your mouth.” She says absentmindedly; she tries to not let it sting, but it does anyway. It is a low blow, and she knows he does not believe it. He has raised the walls, coiling like a snake, and there’s no point trying to climb and risk cracking her skull open on the ground. She will have to wait for him to come down. “Then perhaps I should consider my father’s proposal.”

She leaves the bed and grabs a letter lying open on the desk. “He wrote me this letter. That is why my mother came all the way here, apparently to see how her daughter was faring.”

Aemond eyes it with the barest twitch in his lips, then looks up into her eyes and, with a sigh, she clears her throat.

“My dearest daughter,

It is with great concern and sadness that I write you this letter.

Words have reached me about the recent events involving Storm’s End and young Prince Lucerys’ demise. My spirits are low when thinking of the fate you’re enduring. But I want you to think carefully of this: annulments are rare but possible. Even more so since you bore no heirs yet. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins. I only need a word from you, daughter, and I shall hastily consult with a High Septon.”

She can barely register his arm moving, only sees his hand snatching the letter out of her grip, crumpling the paper between his fingers. Nostrils flaring, eye widening, she reads insult all over his face. About time.

“Is that it, Aemond? Is that the reason you’d think I would betray you? Because I didn’t bleed on a birthing bed yet? Is that how you measure my loyalty? What of all the times I drew your bath, washed your hair, pulled the boots off your feet? What about that curtain—“ she adds, pointing to the windows “and the fact that I told the maid to keep that side always closed so the sun will not bother your eye? Do you think I did all of this because of some empty words?”

He looks as if she has just slapped him. Mistrust and bewilderment run together all over his sharp features, trying to win one another, and she waits and waits, and she begs as all the purest things must be pleaded, wordlessly.

Come down. Come down. Lay down with me. In our bed, a grave, it matters not. I'll take the shovel and do the burying.

But he stands still on his high and cursed perch, the grip on the letter loosens, his shoulders slump a little, because this, this comes so easily. Violence. It’s the other glove he wears like second skin.

“You will write to your father and tell him if I hear another word about annulments, I will have his head for treason. And as for you… you tell a living soul what you know, and you shall join the Silent Sisters. You won’t even have to vow your silence, for I shall take your sharp tongue first.”

She watches him go, standing in the middle of the room like a fool; her hands bleeding still and a plea, unheard, choking to death in her chest.

Her hands heal, stay whole for so long. She feels she cannot reach him this time, no matter how hard she tries to climb. She finds no footholds, no inlets, until she stops looking for any.

She finds she has no strength to do it anymore. They’re all dead anyway, each of them in their own way, their own burial.

The king drinks and rages and drinks and rages. Helaena rocks on herself all day long, chasing the highs and lows of her laments. Jaehaera stares at her mother with her small lips sewn, her eyes wide and the Queen Mother weeps and weeps, wondering if the little girl is watching her mother go mad with grief or yet again her twin brother’s head rolling on the ground like one of her toys.

And Aemond…she does not know where Aemond chose to bury himself. He spends the day out, trying to escape the smothering grip of the Stranger’s claws, his curse…or is it only retribution?

Sometimes he’s in the training yard, sometimes that same yard becomes theater for revenge. He kills whoever helped Blood and Cheese enter the Keep, man or woman, he doesn’t care. He tortures them, and she wants to beg him to stop, to tell him that torturing one, two, or one hundred men won’t stop guilt from torturing him.

So, he wanders restlessly, basks in small and big cruelties, until the sun sets and she’s aware, as the bed dips under his weight, that she is his own burial. He takes her at any time, in any place, be it the bed, the desk, or bent over the vanity, she cannot do anything to stop him. She doesn’t want to and yet she aches to do it. Because it’s always sudden, and harsh and hurtful when he pulls her hair, when he spares no time to stoke her desire, when he keeps her bent with her back turned and a firm hand on her neck like some kind of punishment.

It never used to be like this. It had been playful, teasing, painfully slow as if he were separating salt from water, and then fast, urgent, unraveling for two inexperienced newlyweds.

But it had never been like that. There was no joy in it. Only a duty to be fulfilled. Some twisted way to gain control, while anyone else kept slipping from his hands. Just as Vhagar slipped out of his control on that fateful night of storm.

He remembered that dark thrill pounding in his veins, the laughter gushing out of his throat like poison. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. He didn’t know whether Vhagar was fueling his fire or the other way around, perhaps both. Just a little more, he’d thought, as Arrax batted his wings frantically, desperate, mirroring his young rider, to escape the gaping jaws of the Queen of All Dragons.

That’s what he wanted. He wanted to relish in his nephew’s dread, he wanted to drink it. He wanted him alone, desperate, hopeless, just as he had been.

And then he felt it, the shift in the ancient fire pit he was riding, like a boat tipping over and there was no helm to grab onto and bring it back to land. He had sunk his own family into the bleak abyss of Daemon Targaryen’s soul.

He had come to collect, thoroughly. A son for a son, yes, but he had taken much more than Jaehaerys. He’d taken Helaena as well. Even Jaehaera.

Will she ever be able to speak again?

Will my Mother ever forgive me?

Words never spoken, stuck on his tongue and then gagged and swallowed. He cannot look down, cannot look back. He must look up and forward, like soldiers do. To the next battle, to war.

But there’s this woman. And the sight of her in his bed that makes his breath hitch and for two reasons entirely opposite to one another. The first is the most ancient one. But she’s also a thorn in his side, for she knows. She knows everything. She knows all his peaks and depths, every brick in his walls and how to dismantle them; she knows he’s strong and weak, that he’s scared and guilty and worthy of his mother’s contempt, but he cannot bear any of this in front of her.

He flees her presence during the day, only to impose himself on her for the whole night. She cannot refuse him. And he cannot have her prying and dismantling his well-crafted walls and lies, so he takes her and takes her and takes her until he works themselves up to exhaustion and she’s a rag doll in his hands. It serves the purpose, though. As long as she has his cock in her mouth, as long as he harshly pounds into her, cutting her breath from the inside, she cannot ask questions. As long as he keeps chasing his pleasure, and his rugged breaths muffle his own ears, he cannot think straight.  

He's close now and it’s the second time already. The sheets are damp beneath their bodies, his back glints with sweat, damps his forehead as he thrusts inside her one more time. They’re lying on their side, but he keeps her caged against him, his arm has slipped on the mattress and under her neck to keep her still, with her back to him. With his cheek glued to hers, he croons praises in her ear, falling mindlessly from his lips but like drops in the ocean. Once, she would redden, smile blissfully, or challenge him, to go deeper, or harder, or both, but she’s a limp thing now. A mere body panting upon being fucked by another, that’s all.

This is possession. Or a desperate attempt to. Each night, he holds her as if it’s the last time and she could slip away from him at any moment, turning her back on him. She can feel it now, in the way he’s gripping her shoulder, the way his nails dig in her skin, carving into her bones: stay with me. Please. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave.

But it’s him keeping her away, turning her own back on him.

Don’t you know, she wishes to tell him, that I won’t, ever. I won’t. No matter how cursed you are. I won’t. I won’t.

He grabs her thigh, resting it on his hip, spreading his long fingers on her skin, spreading her legs so he can find the perfect angle and picks up the pace. She shudders with every thrust, gasping with her throat dry, feeling the long bridge of his nose sinking in her cheek, his grunts growing rougher and deeper; some strange choked sound at the back of his throat.

He comes quietly, panting shallowly against the damp fabric of her nightgown. And he stays there, claw gripping her shoulder, head sunk between her neck and collarbone, and deep to the hilt buried in her.

A tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn’t know where it comes from, who she is mourning, she can’t tell these days. Perhaps she’s mourning him, who he was, who he is now and who he is forcing himself to be. She doesn’t know where the deception lies anymore. She wishes she could push it back in, prays that it goes unnoticed, swallowed along with all the others, but she should know by now, the Gods are not in her favor anymore, if they ever had been.

“Why are you crying?”

She turns her head, and her breath hitches. The gemstone glints, yes, but she’s too struck by his eye to even notice the sapphire. There’s something raw there, bare, more than his very skin now. It’s the first time she sees that look on him, torn, heavy lidded and not by pleasure.

This is the burden of grief.

She wonders if that’s the reason he’s so keen on fucking her with her back turned, so she can’t see him. Perhaps she didn’t look hard enough. She thought he had risen too high, out of her reach, of anyone’s. She thought he would never fall, not in every sense of the word.

Hence, she’s at a loss for words, slightly pulling herself up, when he slowly comes down; he curls into himself, into her lap, resting his head there like a child. No Kinslayer, no Dragon Prince, no son, no brother. No husband. Just a human, bare in the skin and soul.

Aemond wraps his hand around her knee, gently, and then tighter and tighter, shutting his eye. He’s on land now, but the room is spinning, the whole world is spinning and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He feels he started it all, he threw a spinning top and got sucked into it. And she’s the only firm thing he can hold onto.

“Do you think I’m cursed?” he whispers, the barest flutter of his long eyelashes against his cheekbone.

But she has no answer. All she has are her hands, sliding on his naked skin, through his loose hair, gently, as if touching the thinnest glass, sealing the cracks. Her palms slice open again.  

“Aren’t we all?”

And I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more."

- The Castle, Franz Kafka.

[astralnymphh]

ellie teasing reader because she knows how much her body hair turns her on??? PLEASE like imagine her wearing literally anything that accentuates and puts it on display so prettily; tank tops for her armpits, crop tops and low hung jeans or sweats for her happy trail and bush peeking out of her boxers ahhhh gonna die

or her being cheeky and soooo fucking cocky, mocking her whenever they’re fucking and she stares too much at it, takes too much time to lick at those auburn hairs while eating her out. and reader being so pussy drunk and so in love and so so desperate to touch and kiss and lick and suck everywhere oh my fuck

thisss because i know ellie feels so clever and crafty doing it, intentionally popping that waistband down when you re-enter the room for the night and thrusting her crotch out just a tad. held in place by the juts of her hips, everything else appears ordinary and unchanged, but in quiet conference to herself, ellie clads a cocky smile—puppeteered by some sort of cheeky inner-feeling or her predictions on how you'll react. she knows what she is gilding will land her somewhere between your lips and her hips, but playing innocence sends those shivers up her spine. excitement. suspense.

“what's this, els?” when you do take note with a finger tracing sultrily up her happy trail, all that anticipation matures into arousal, and arousal is the one not-so-innocent thing dripping through that bush of hers. that band tight around her pelvis felt dirty. exposing that part of her body felt dirty.

“hair?” ellie tries the clueless act anyways, squinting confusedly as if though you are the true portrayer of indecency. “am i supposed to hide this? weirdo.” but, that soon washes away, as intentions become crystal clear with the push forward of her groin, flaunting that stripe of auburn.

it gets her here; legs cradling your upper-body as if mounted, hand at your head, pussy on your mouth. taking everything inside so silkily, wrapped around your tongue perfectly. her boxers are long discarded—in a needy pull, if she accounts correctly—and rather soiled anyway. made uncomfortable by the stick of her slick. but your tongue takes care of that now, drawing calculated strokes through her folds and cherishing that salty taste of her with an easy smile. well—given the full picture, of course you'd be vulnerable in delights stuffing your face in that tufted bit of her, even pocketing time into licking them 'till they shone more than before. either you're concentrated and tracing her entrance by heart's desire, or you're instinctual, sloppy, and letting the pressure of her palm guide you where she thinks your tongue feels best.

“fuckin' love my pussy, huh? just couldn't stop lookin' at it?” a rasp pushes through her whispering, talking to you though you're too occupied to answer. her groin bears down on you, and the warmth of her palm relocates to your cheek, tapping there. “show me your tongue, cmon.” you obey, and flatten your tongue against the rise of her crotch, watching her instinctively take charge and wipe her clit across the moment you do. “ohh.. fuck, yeah. up a little more—yeah, yeah, ssshhit, that's the fuckinn' spot—fuuuck babe.” your tonguework made her a low-groan, moaning mess above you, in turn stirring you to reciprocate the noises of joy, just into her cunt. vibrating her clit, adding a finger or two inside her out of urge, giggling in love when her pussy clenches them in and her thighs clasp you in tight. fuck, does her knitted expression look heavenly over that hair you adore?

img @/tlouphotographer v instagram.

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 10

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Jason woke with a start as someone gently shook his shoulder, one of his notes from the previous night sticking to his face as he shot up. He heard a soft giggle from next to him and looked up, and up at Jasmine Nightingale, Queen Regent, standing there with a plate of food and looking regal as ever in her teal toga dress.

"You missed breakfast, but it looks like you were pretty busy. What are you working on?" she asked, setting a plate of French toast on the table and taking a seat, careful to not look at the notes without permission. Still, he was thankful he had written all his notes in code.

He shuffled the papers together and stuffed them into his journal before pulling the plate closer. "Just research about this place, there's so many different places here. Where are your favorite places to visit when you get a day off?" He took a bite of the food and noticed a cinnamon flavored syrup.

"I don't really go anywhere on my days off, I usually just hang out in the library or in my room all day. Sometimes I'll go visit Lady Pandora and have sandwiches and spar with her, but I haven't had much of a chance to get out of the castle for a while now." She frowned to herself as if just now realizing. "I mean, I do sometimes for meetings and whatnot, but I haven't had a chance to explore much of the Realms."

"Is there anywhere you'd want to go visit?" Jason asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

She held a finger to her chin and looked upwards as she thought. "I'd like to go to the Boardwalk at Eternal Shores and ride the coaster there." She remembered more places she wanted to go in the Realms from when she first started learning about them. "I want to hike up Soul's Peak. I want to sail in the Mirror Sea, that's so crystal clear you can see the bottom and all the fantastical and weird corals and fish. I want to ride my bike down Highway 6-66 and go to Beelzebub's Waffle House and stay at Hestia's Bed and Breakfast." She clenched her fists as she hid her face with a curtain of her hair. "I want to go to the Second Globe Theatre to watch the plays that Shakespeare has released since his death." She whispered to herself.

Jason reached for her forearm and patted it in comfort, bringing her out of her thoughts. He smiled encouragingly at her.

"Sorry, I guess I needed to let that out." She sighed and blew her hair out of her face. "I really do need a day out."

"Sounds like it. Maybe you can let any advisors you have know you need some time away? Surely they can last one day without you?" He asked and finished his plate.

"Maybe, I'll talk to Frostbite about it when we go see him. It's gonna take us a little while to get there because the Far Frozen is about a two hour drive by Specter Speeder. You should go get ready, we're heading out in about an hour. We keep cold weather clothes in the Speeder." She stood up and wiped her hands on her dress, then snapped her fingers for a skeleton to appear and take away the dish.

"What dress code should I dress for today?" Jason asked and she froze.

"Dress code?" She asked, eyes wide.

"Well, I want to match the vibe of the day, I'd feel weird to wear modern street fashion if the others in my party were wearing more formal clothes." I want to match you, he thought.

"Oh, well." She played with her skirt. "I guess since I'm appearing in public, I should dress accordingly. I'm still going more casual today since I don't have to do any public speaking. If you want to match?" She blushed. "Then I guess casual royal court? I know we don't know each other very well yet, but I'd like to be your friend if you'd accept?" She held out her hand to shake.

He gently took her hand and, though he felt electricity shoot from his fingertips, he kept his face calm and he shook it once, then let go. "I'd be more than happy to be your friend." He said with a smile.

Jazz seemed frozen for a moment before she held her hand to her chest and turned away. "I'll meet you at the split in the hallways in an hour." She said as she fled the room. Jason let out a huff of a laugh.

An hour later has Jason dressed in a poet's shirt with a pair of black leather pants, still paired with his combat boots, standing and waiting for Jazz.

"Boo." He hears and startles as Danny fades into existence, floating upside down next to him. Somehow, his clothes did not obey gravity and clung to him as if he were upright. Today he was just in the same outfit Jason had met him in.

"Christ kid, you're gonna kill me again I swear." Jason grumbles.

"Leather pants? Really? I know I said she likes the biker look, but leather pants?" Danny looked him up and down. " And what's with the flowy shirt anyway? Not very biker there."

Jason rolled his eyes and sighed, crossing his arms. "I wanted to match your sister." He stated.

"Oh boy, does this mean you're gonna be dressing like dudes on romance novel covers?" Danny scrunched his nose. "I mean, I have seen Jazz read some of those I guess, and hey, if it works, then go for it I guess." Danny fell backwards so he was floating on his back. "I'm coming with you guys to visit the Yeti's today by the way. Jazz still gets lost getting there sometimes, and the GZPS has been on the fritz since the last time Technus was here, so I gotta guide you."

"Hey, I'm getting better at it!" Jazz said as she approached the pair. "Come on, let's head over." They made their way to the training grounds where what appeared to be a hover-submarine in gleaming chrome floated with it's side hatch wide open.

Once inside, Jason took the passenger's seat and Jazz took the pilot's seat and began take off. It was a bit weird to get used to the motion, but soon they were gliding through the green and purple sky.

"So, Shakespeare's released new plays since he died? Have you had the chance to read some?" Jason asked, and with that question, Jazz just began talking with passion. He looked softly at her as she rambled for the next hour about 'Love's Labour's Won', the play thought to have been lost to time, but that Shakespeare was able to pen again once he had his haunt established and had a full cast of ghosts willing to spend eternity performing.

"What about you? I noticed you were reading Austen's first post-mortem book. How are you liking 'Satisfaction'? I read it a few years ago when I first explored the library." It was now Jason's turn to start rambling about a topic as he praised it and compared it to some of her other books.

"We're getting close!" Danny yelled from outside the Speeder. Jason looked up to see a floating glacier rapidly approaching them.

[petalsthefish]

My Marauders

Read on A03

Notes: You all are seriously my favorite people to be with and your birthday notes and messages are seriously giving me misty eyes because I don’t know HOW that I got to be this lucky. I grew up a pretty lonely kid...and now...I am never alone because I've got you in my phone in my pocket ❤️❤️❤️

Lily stood at the edge of the room, the soft hum of conversation filling the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter from the center where the professional Quidditch players held court with the Hogwarts students. She swirled the champagne in her glass, watching the bubbles rise, trying to muster some excitement for the night, but the reality was sinking in hard.

Her 17th birthday would be nothing special.

The blue dress robes, which had seemed so perfect when she’d first tried them on, now felt like an ill-fitting costume, something she was pretending to be rather than truly was. They’d been a gift from her mother, who had sent them along with a note filled with warm wishes that Lily had read with a hopeful smile. She’d imagined wearing them for a secret date to Hogsmeade with her boyfriend, James—not for a dull Slug Club party she’d only attended because Slughorn had practically begged her to come.

Across the room, Slughorn’s voice boomed, a jovial exclamation about some Quidditch match she couldn’t care less about. The Slug Club, usually a place where she felt like she belonged to something special, had felt more and more isolating since the war outside of Hogwarts had started creeping in. She wasn’t part of the crowd around the pro players—most of them were Slytherins, and not just any Slytherins, but the ones who were notorious for their bullying.

James wasn’t here because of those assholes. Instead, he was in the hospital wing with poor Remus, who had taken a curse to the chest that morning in the courtyard. The thought of James and Remus made her heart ache. She would have much rather been with them, offering comfort and company, than standing here in a room full of people who barely noticed her.

The only person who kept glancing her way was Severus Snape, but that just made Lily’s skin crawl. She made a point of avoiding his gaze, and any time he tried to approach, she would turn her shoulder sharply, making it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

She wished James were there.

With a deep breath, Lily set down her glass, the soft clink of crystal barely audible over the hum of the party. She smoothed out the creases in her robes, casting one last look at the room full of people who didn’t even notice her leaving. The warmth and laughter of the Slug Club faded behind her as she stepped into the cool hallway, where the torchlight flickered against the stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows.

Seventeen would come and go, slipping past like a whisper in the night. Tonight was just another stretch of time, another lonely walk through the dark corridors of a castle that no longer felt like the safe haven it once had been.

Lily paused, her hand brushing against the cold stone wall as the weight of it all settled on her shoulders. She should have just stayed with the rest of her house in the common room or gone with James to keep Remus company. She was silly to have thought Slughorn would remember her birthday, let alone surprise her with anything. 

The silence of the corridor was broken by a familiar voice. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

Lily lifted her gaze from her black sequined shoes, surprised to see James Potter standing halfway down the hallway. He was leaning casually against the wall, as if he’d been waiting there for some time. His freshly pressed dress robes caught the flickering torchlight, the deep midnight blue standing out against the dark stone walls. But it was the bright smile on his face that truly captured her attention. It was the kind of smile that seemed to warm the cold corridor, or maybe she just warmed up everytime she was bathed in it. 

“James?” she said, her voice soft. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to this party, obviously,” James replied, his tone light, but the sincerity in his eyes made Lily feel like crying of happiness. He took a few steps closer, narrowing the space between them. “I know you asked me to stay with Remus, but he had some choice words for me. Said I wasn’t much of a boyfriend if I let you suffer through that Slug Club mess with the Slytherins on your own.”

Lily stared at the gift, a lump forming in her throat. She hadn’t expected James to leave Remus, especially after what those Slytherins had done to him—the very ones she’d just walked away from in the other room.

“You didn’t have to…” she began, but James shook his head, cutting her off gently.

“I wanted to,” he said, his voice steady. “Remus is fine, really. He’s just in the hospital wing for observation, and Madame Kingston’s practically spoiling him. He insisted I come find you.”

The thoughtfulness of it all—the fact that James had left Remus to be with her—made her chest tighten with unexpected emotion. Her shoulders relaxed as James leaned in and placed a firm kiss on her forehead, grounding her in the moment.

“Let’s just go back to the common room,” Lily urged, feeling a surge of relief at the idea. “That party is stupid anyway.”

James scoffed playfully, taking her free hand and twirling her so that her skirts flared around her ankles. “If you think I’m letting you waste these deliciously gorgeous dress robes on a common room birthday party, you’re mad,” he teased, his grin widening. “No, we’re going back in there, and I’m dancing with you until you can’t see straight.”

Lily couldn’t help but smile, the weight of the night lifting as James’s infectious energy pulled her along. The party that had felt so dismal just moments ago now seemed to hold a spark of promise. Anytime James Potter was a part of something, it was never dull. 

James led Lily back down the corridor, his hand warm and reassuring in hers. The closer they got to the party, the more she could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation. Her free hand dug into her skirts, her nerves taking over again. 

James paused for a moment, offering her a reassuring smile. “Ready?”

Lily took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready.”

With that, he pushed the door open, and they stepped back into the brightly lit room. The atmosphere was just as it had been before—people still clustered around the Quidditch players, and a few couples kissed lazily on the outskirts of the dance floor—but with James by her side, everything felt different.

Their presence together was a statement, a defiant declaration: a pureblood and a Muggle-born, hand in hand. Lily knew that every time James stepped out with her, he was taking a risk. People were being tortured for less these days outside the safe confines of Hogwarts. But neither of them cared; all they wanted was to be together, no matter what the rest of society thought.

As they walked further into the room, Lily could feel the sharp, hostile stares of the Slytherins. The tension in the air was almost tangible, and she could sense the silent fury radiating from the group that had tormented Remus earlier. Their eyes tracked every step Lily and James took, but James remained completely unbothered, his focus entirely on her.

"Don’t mind them,” James whispered, leaning in close so that only she could hear. “They’re just jealous.”

Lily couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, I do have the hottest Quidditch player in the room on my arm.”

“That’s my girl,” he replied with a grin.

Without missing a beat, James guided her toward the center of the dance floor, completely ignoring the whispered comments and glares from the purebloods. As they reached the middle, he spun her around, the motion catching the attention of a few of the professional Quidditch players nearby, who watched with curious smiles. James caught her mouth for a tempting kiss, letting his tongue taste her upper lip without a second thought. 

“James,” Lily murmured, her voice betraying a hint of embarrassment.

“Merlin, sorry, I just love when your cheeks turn red,” he replied with a mischievous grin. 

He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist as the music shifted to a slower, more melodic tune. Lily could feel the weight of the room’s attention on them, but with James’s steady presence, it felt more like a spotlight than a burden. The purebloods might have been glaring daggers at them, but they were nothing more than background noise now—unimportant and easily ignored.

As they began to dance, James moved with effortless grace, his confidence infectious. Lily found herself relaxing into the rhythm, letting the moment carry her away. The world around them seemed to fade into a blur, leaving only the two of them, moving together in perfect harmony with the music. The weight that had been pressing on Lily’s chest earlier had long since lifted.

James spun Lily around once more, her skirts flaring out in a graceful arc. She couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine, a reflection of the joy bubbling up inside her. James laughed too, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he pulled her back into his arms. The warmth of his embrace, the easy rhythm of their movements, made everything else fade away. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his neck—a quiet, tender gesture of thanks, a moment just for him.

“See?” James murmured, his voice filled with affection as he spoke softly in her ear. “This is how your birthday should be.”

Lily looked up at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. Without thinking, the words slipped out, barely a whisper over the music. “I love you, James.”

The moment the words left her lips, she felt a jolt of panic. She winced internally, realizing too late what she’d said. It was too soon for that—for those three words that carried so much weight. They had only been officially seeing each other for a couple of months, and she hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. She braced herself, waiting for his reaction, her heart pounding in her chest.

But instead of pulling away or looking surprised, James grinned, his eyes shining with that familiar, playful glint. He didn’t miss a beat, slowing their spinning to a gentle stop as he held her close. “Now that’s not fair,” he teased, his voice low and warm.

“What’s not?” she asked, her voice barely steady.

“I was supposed to say ‘I love you’ first,” he replied, nuzzling his nose against hers, the closeness making her heart flutter all over again

And with that, James dipped Lily low, causing a ripple of gasps and murmurs to spread through the crowd. But all Lily could do was laugh, the sound ringing out clear and bright. James pulled her back up and spun her around, and that’s when she noticed the scene unfolding at the door. 

To her surprise, what seemed to be the entirety of Gryffindor house was now pouring into the room. Peter and Sirius were leading the charge, grinning widely as they carried banners that read “Happy Birthday,” while Hannah Killarny struggled to balance a cake that looked like it had been decorated by a child.

Before Lily could fully process what was happening, she was swallowed by the crowd, pulled from James’s arms into a flurry of hugs and cheek kisses. The energy in the room shifted from tense to jubilant in an instant, and Lily found herself smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt.

Amid the whirlwind of well-wishers, Lily spun around, searching for James. She finally spotted him standing nearby, watching her with proud, affectionate eyes. “Did you do this?” she demanded, raising her voice over the cheerful chaos.

James shrugged, a playful smirk on his lips as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “This part was actually Sirius’s idea,” he called back.

As if on cue, Sirius appeared beside her, wrapping his arms around her neck and squeezing her tightly. “Happy birthday, Lily!” he exclaimed, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Thank you,” she replied, laughing as she took in the wild scene around her. “This is crazy! Slughorn is going to kill you for wrecking his party.”

Sirius ruffled her curls, completely unfazed. “Please, old Sluggy adores me.”

“Black!” Slughorn’s voice boomed through the crowd, cutting through the noise like a knife. “This is a private Slug Club party!”

“Ah, shit,” Sirius muttered with a wink at Lily. “You didn’t see me.”

With a playful kiss to her cheek, Sirius ducked out of sight, leaving Lily laughing as James slipped back to her side. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close for another kiss just as the Gryffindors began to sing “Happy Birthday” at the top of their lungs. Overhead, magical fireworks burst into vibrant colors, filling the room with light and casting dancing shadows on the walls.

The joyful chaos around them was intoxicating, and Lily felt her heart swell with happiness. Even as Slughorn tried to regain control, bustling through the crowd and threatening detentions in a vain attempt to restore order, Lily couldn’t stop smiling. His stern words were lost in the whirlwind of joy as everyone continued to celebrate, ignoring his protests.

As the party spilled out into the corridors, Sirius, James, Peter, and a few others led the charge, marching down the halls and waking up every portrait they passed, singing “Happy Birthday” to Lily at the top of their voices. Their exuberance was infectious, and Lily found herself swept along, laughing as she tried to keep up with their antics.

Someone passed Lily the plate of cake, hastily cut and without a fork. The frosting stuck to her fingers as she took a bit for a bite, the sweetness mingling with the laughter bubbling up inside her. She looked around at the other Gryffindors, their faces lit with delight, and felt a deep sense of belonging. Home wasn’t a place, it was the people in it. 

But there was just one person missing.

As the group made their way back through the common room, Lily caught James’s hand, pulling him aside as the others continued their raucous celebration. “Come on,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s bring some cake to Remus.”

James’s grin widened, and he nodded eagerly. “Absolutely. He deserves to be part of this too.”

James called out to Sirius and Peter, who immediately caught on to the plan. Together, they all slipped away from the group, sneaking through the quieter corridors of the castle with the smuggled cake. The castle was eerily silent compared to the noise of the party, the only sound the soft echo of their footsteps on the stone floors. They moved quickly, careful not to attract the attention of any patrolling professors or prefects.

When they reached the hospital wing, the door creaked softly as they pushed it open. The room was dimly lit, and Remus was lying in one of the beds, looking surprised but pleased to see them. His face lit up even more when he saw the cake in Lily’s hand.

“Please tell me that’s for me,” Remus said, grinning as Sirius jumped onto the bed beside him.

Peter followed suit, crawling onto the bed with Remus. “Just a warning—it was James who baked it, so it might be hazardous to your health.”

“Hey!” James cried in mock defense, hands on his hips. “I’ll have you know, my cake baking skills are top-notch!”

Lily laughed as she held out the cake to Remus. “Don’t listen to them. It’s perfectly good—I already tried some. Besides, you deserve something sweet.”

Remus accepted the cake with a warm smile, his eyes full of gratitude. “Thanks, Lil. And happy birthday.”

Sirius slung an arm around Remus’s shoulders, ruffling his hair affectionately. “We couldn’t let you miss out on all the fun, mate.”

Lily looked around at her friends, her heart swelling with warmth. “Thank you, all of you,” she said softly. “You’re always the first to look out for me, to make sure I’m okay. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before, ever. You’re truly my best friends in the whole world.”

Sirius grinned and nudged her knee with his foot. “You’re our best friend too, Lily. We’ve already decided that if you and James ever break up, we’re keeping you in the divorce.”

“I’ve already told you,” James exclaimed, pulling Lily closer until she was nearly sitting on his lap, “if she even thinks about breaking up with me, you guys have to slip her that love potion we talked about.”

Lily playfully smacked him in the chest. “Are you seriously encouraging them to commit a felony if I break up with you?”

“They commit a felony every full moon, Lily,” Remus pointed out with a grin. “Brewing a love potion is nothing compared to the whole illegal Animagus business they’ve got going on with a certain werewolf.”

“The werewolf is infinitely more fun,” Sirius chimed in, casually licking frosting off his fingers.

“Maybe for you,” Remus retorted, giving Sirius a light shove.

“Love potions aren’t exactly a felony,” James reasoned, “they’re just… strongly discouraged. Besides, I love you so much, I’d break at least a hundred laws for you.”

“Hold onto that thought, babe,” Lily snorted, crossing her legs as she reached for another piece of cake. “Because if you ever dare to break up with me, who knows—I might slip you a little love potion myself.”

“And land yourself in Azkaban?” James quipped, raising an eyebrow. “That seems a bit beneath you, don’t you think?”

“Even if it’s handcuffed, I’m not leaving Hogwarts without you,” Lily shot back with a smirk.

James purred, his eyes gleaming with mischief, “I just have a question about the placement of those handcuffs.” 

“Get a room,” Peter groaned.

Lily turned to the blond Marauder and flashed him a playful grin. “Yours?”

Peter's face twisted in exaggerated horror. “Ugh, gross, never mind!” he exclaimed, recoiling as if the very idea had physically repulsed him.

Lily laughed, leaning into James. “You really walked right into that one, Wormtail.”

James rocked her in his arms suddenly, “I love when you use our nicknames.” 

“Speaking of nicknames,” Sirius chimed in, his eyes glinting with mischief, “we don’t have a nickname for you, Evans.”

Lily arched a brow at him, her lips curling into a half-smile. “Who said I wanted one of your ridiculous nicknames, Sirius?”

Sirius feigned a look of deep offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Ridiculous? These are badges of honor, Evans. Every Marauder’s got one.”

Lily rolled her eyes playfully. “Well, I’m perfectly happy with just being Lily, thanks.”

“Come on,” Sirius pressed, undeterred. “You’ve been hanging out with us long enough. You’re practically one of us now. You deserve a proper nickname.”

James grinned, his arm tightening around Lily’s waist. “Don’t worry, Lily. If Sirius gives you a nickname, I’ll make sure it’s one you can actually live with.”

Lily shot him a teasing glance. “Oh, I’m sure you will. But if it’s something ridiculous, like Snuffles, I’m holding you responsible.”

"No, not Snuffles." Sirius leaned in, eyes narrowing as if deep in thought. “We’ll have to come up with something fitting... something that captures your essence.”

“Or you could just call me ‘Lily,’” she suggested, deadpan.

Peter, having recovered from his earlier disgust, quickly chimed in, “I think ‘Lily’ works just fine.”

Lily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and added, “I don’t even shapeshift like the rest of you. I don’t need a nickname—I’m just... Lily.”

“You’re more than just Lily,” James murmured, kissing her just behind her ear as he pressed his chest to her back. “You’re an amazing friend, the best dueler in this school, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, a terrible Quidditch player, and quite possibly the only person who can beat Sirius in chess.”

“Now that’s a true badge of honor,” Remus said with a smirk, and the group dissolved into laughter, the lighthearted banter easing the mood even further.

Sirius let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. But mark my words, Evans—you’ll get a nickname someday. And it’ll be brilliant.”

“Can’t wait,” Lily replied with a smirk. “But future nickname or not, you’re my Marauders, my constants, my best mates. That’s what really matters.”

The five of them stayed huddled on the bed until two in the morning, sharing the cake and swapping stories, their laughter echoing softly through the dimly lit room. It was a small, intimate gathering—a world apart from the wild party in the common room or the underwhelming Slug Club event. But for Lily, it was exactly what she needed.

As she sat there, surrounded by the people who mattered most, Lily realized that this was what truly counted—not the big parties or the flashy celebrations, but the quiet, meaningful moments spent with those she loved. This was the best kind of birthday—one filled with love, laughter, and the comforting presence of true friends.

[gorlygorlx3]

Golden Boys & Golden Beaches (Human! Sun x Fem!Reader)

Written by me

11:35 PM. Great time for you to wake up, especially since you didn’t have work today. You stirred from your sleep, exhausted and weak but you smiled at the sun's warm glow on your skin. You weren't sure whether you should lay still until you sleep once more or fully wake up. If the sun was up and you weren't up at 1:00 last night, you might as well be up too. As your eyes fluttered open they were met by the soft light streaming in through the curtains. Your vision, still blurry from sleep, began to look around. Yep. Still in you room. 

Alright off your bed. The day started way before you. 

Heading downstairs, you were met with soggy floors. Wait, soggy floors? Your fuzzy socks were soaking up whatever residue was spilled on the bottom of the steps. Whoever did this better clean it up. As you continued your way to the kitchen, the sogginess began to flux, some parts were wet, others were dry. Seriously what-is there a leak or something? 

Looking around the house, the pillows on the couch were back to their original positions as well the blankets. You had movie night with the gang and forgot to clean up afterward. The table was spotless and the tv was crystal clear again. Huh. So are the walls, the shelves, even some of the decor and picture frames were cleaned up. You wiped a finger on the nearby shelving. Not a trace of dust. Strange…

Even more strange was the fact that none of the animatronics were home. Where’d those guys go? 

Errand with Claire and Benny? 

Causing havoc with Lori? Please no it can’t be that.

Usually a sticky note from Sun lying on something would tell you the agenda. Though no one was to be found. 

…

Probably because he’s home with you and currently making breakfast. 

Sun’s heavenly head of fake blonde hair was spotted in the kitchen alongside his goofy little cooking apron that he bought at a flea market. With a plain red shirt and yellow pj shorts of course. His back was turn to you, the smell of crispy bacon wafted through your home. You’ll get an air freshener later, let’s just enjoy the scent. 

“Oh Sunshine!” Now let’s enjoy the sound of a sweet robotic caretaker. “I didn’t think you’d wake up this morning.” 

“mornin’ sunny…” You muttered, a small smile peeked out from your face. You’re still a little sleepy, but you’ll get over it.

”Darn, so much for breakfast in bed…” You hear the defeat in that voice. You know how much Sun likes to pamper you, he would go out his way to literally feeding you when you’re sick. The withdrawal of not having 19 children running around in one confined space would’ve created a habit of caretaking inside of him. Take Moon, he’s been “on patrol” in your house ever since you guys left the PizzaPlex, watching you sleep, patrolling the house, watching you sleep, watching you sleep again.

”Oh sunny bee, it’s fine I’ll just eat it here.” Even if you wanted to go back to bed. “You cooked it, so it’ll taste just as sweet.” He blushed. My god is he adorable. “Hey, where did everybody go?”

”Oh Claire needed to get more things out of her apartment before she finally moves out. I stayed behind to clean, so the Moonie and Glamrocks went on their own.” Yeah that sounds about right. Moving sucks and Claire can’t carry any thing that weights over 200 pounds.

"Well...since it's just the two of us today, why don't we go out together?" Sun stopped cleaning. 

"Huh?"

"Let's go out. We haven't had any time together alone outside the plex."

"Like...a-a date...?"

"Yeah sure."

"..."

"Uh...sun--"

"LET'S GO! Oh come on Sunshine let's get ready I think I have something to wear for today oh this is going to be great. Wait where are we going?"

"I'm not exactly sure where but we'll go somewhere fun, yeah?" I give him a smile that he returns immediately. For someone who not only couldn't leave the plex, but couldn't even go outside the daycare, of course he's excited. "Yay!"

In the car, you two took a drive, chatting about whatever the hell came to your mind, or Sun's mind. As you near a sign, Sun leans closer to the window and he perks up slightly.

"What's up Sunny?" You keep your eyes focused on the road but tilt your head ever so slightly to show him you're listening.

"THERE'S A BEACH NEARBY!!" He shouts "Can we go? Can we? Can we?" He starts repeating this over until I finally smile and tell him.

"Ok I don't see why not." Wait he doesn't have a swimsuit.

As make a few turns towards the beach he does a little victory dance and starts rambling about how he's never been but has always wanted to because he wants to understand the hype of going out and getting a tan.

"Sun, I swear you're one of the palest people I know, second to only one who is Moon. You will probably burst into flames the second you step out into the sunlight." You say with a joking tone. If was human of course. The tone didn't seem to pick up on in his excitement.He suddenly cowers back.

"WHAT?" His eyes are wide as his giggles stop "wait, wait take me back! I don't wanna go anymore!" he's wriggling around trying not to get closer to the beach.

"I was joking!"

"oh""We need swimsuits for the both of us." 

"Oh, how 'bout there?" Sun points to a little shop near the street. Sweet. 

Inside was a hodgepodge of knick knacks that can be found in a thrift shop. Complete collections of china, cookbooks, packs of fruit-flavored beer bottles, healing crystals, vinyl records, friendship bracelets, puka shell jewelry, knockoff Fazbear Entertainment items, and swimsuits. 

You got this navy blue one-piece swimsuit while Sun got some cute white two-piece swimsuit with red stripes. A nice towel for drying and tote for the clothes.

Once outta there, you two made it to the beach. The sand was hot and dry, as per usual, the crisp smell of the ocean wafted in the air, and the sound of children playing was heard through your ears. Perfect.

"Alright Sunny boy you know the drill:

Don't talk to strangers 

Don't lure any children to you

Try not to make today's news headlines"

"You got it." He winked.

Today's a scorcher. You hoped that Sun doesn't get a weird tan, but then you realize he can't get one because he's a robot. What did that doctor, Ms. Transphobe...no Ms. Homo..., say about the skin?

If skin reaches a high heat, casing will start to melt.

RIght. Hot = Face melting. Let's hope that doesn't happen.

You spotted the golden boy playing in the water, splashing around like a 6-year-old. How cute. You decided to join him. 

"It's so cold!" He squealed.

"Refreshing huh?" You asked. He agreed.

You two waddled through the water, the squishy sand squelching at your feet. The waves grow higher as you moved. Sun stopped and sifted through the sand a for bit.

"Look look at this!" He held a little white thing in his giant hand. Upon closer inspection, you see that it was a tiny conch shell. He cleaned the excess sand out of it, revealing its pearl white swirl. "

I'm gonna keep it."

Some time went on as you two played in the water. You felt like a kid again, splashing in the water, collecting broken shells and showing them to Mom. Childhood memories rolled in like the waves of the beach. And you're glad Sun's having a fun time. Your temperature was dropping alarmingly, which made Sun walk you out the water to warm up. The soaked swimwear enhanced Sun's body, especially the crotch. Good thing nothing's down there.

"Let's make a sandcastle!"

"We don't have any buckets." You dry yourself with the towel.

"We can just use the sand here."

"Then how are we gonna bring the water here?"

"We'll hold it with our hands." Alright point taken. You two make a sandcastle. A

small mound was form after some time, then later turned into a sculpted mountain followed by little mounds next to it. Sun scraped off some sand to create windows and doors while you try to make a moat.God you could only imagine what the other adults think about you two right now. Whatever, you're here to have fun.

"Hmm..." Sun frowned at your creation.

"What's wrong?"

"It needs something." He held up the conch he found in the water and placed it at the top of the castle. "There." He smiled.

"God, what time is it?" You asked. "

3:16 PM. Why?" Sun raises a brow."

I think the gang might be coming home soon." You don't want the gang locked out the house. 

You took a picture of the little sandcastle and headed to the showers to clean off the sand and ocean water. "No Sun, can come with me into the shower."

"Sunshine, you know I get anxious when I undress alone."

"And you're gonna learn how to not be anxious." You say before leaving the poor guy there. You love him but privacy is nice too.

So you change in the women's washroom with no regrets. You hope Sun doesn't start some weird in there. "Hey we're home."

"Finally done carrying that bitch's stuff." Looks like the gang made it home safely. You and Sun waved at the bots sitting in a little front yard of your home. Yeah they got locked out. "

Where you'd two go?" Roxy raised a brow. You think the FOMO is kicking in. "

Just out for a bit." You replied, trying not to blow a fuse in her system.

"Where did that seashell come from?"

[baby-alien11]

Memories: Scream Premiere (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

taglist: @volturi-girl-imagines @dessxoxsworld @camiesully @ethanlandryluver @nowitsmissing @aliciacat20 @gabbylovesreading @nikfigueiredo @itsaaliyah2

The end of 2022 and the start of 2023 were a bit crazy to describe it in a way, from the Avatar premieres, the Critic Choice Awards, Jack going to film another movie and you starting to prepeare for your VFX make up career while doing some campaigns for a few brands

But fortunately, march arrived and with that the Scream VI premiere in New York along with the press tour, and just like in december, the living room was a mess with clothes, shoes, accesories and things like that

"I can't wait to wear this bad girls", you smiled admiring your Valentino red platforms

"Wear your tiara to add more drama", Skeet joked

During early february, a small bussiness sent you a tiara with black stones as a gift, which you loved so much that you bought a crystal clear box to display it in your closet

"Dad, if I wear the tiara, I'm going to enter the list of nepo babies everyone hates", you pointed, "And I don't want that"

"A list like that really exist?", Skeet frowned

"It's unofficial, but it does", Naiia responded, "We're not in there"

"But we made a cameo on the NY Magazine nepo baby article", Jakob said, "That was wild, I printed it and hung it in our living room"

"You sounded like Toto Wolff on that episode of Drive To Survive", you laughed, "I have it, I have it printed out"

"That was iconic", Jakob noted, "I'm still waiting for the day he and Christian Horner have a fist fight, I truly believe Toto could beat the shit out of him"

"Or even better, a fist fight between all team principals", Stutz commented, "I'm betting on Guenther"

"Nah, Guenther would just sit, watch and laugh at the fight", you said, "But Zak Brown could beat some of them"

"This year is the Las Vegas Grand Prix, it would happen", Megan pointed

"Are you seriously thinking about adults fighting each other?", Skeet asked still folding clothes

"Which of them are you betting on?", you returned the question, "If we put them in a cage fight"

"Fred Vasseur"

With that answer, the five of you let out an audible gasp for the unexpected answer due to none of you thought of the Ferrari team principal as a potential winner of the fight

Due to none of you had to do a lot of press for the movie, you only had a shared interview with Jack for 'The Drew Barrymore Show' the day after the premiere, the flight was programmed on early saturday, arriving the same day during the afternoon and being stopped a few times at the airport because of fans asking for photos, autographs and even giving small gifts

During the road to the hotel, on Twitter you saw fan accounts posting about the arrival and insta stories from the people at the airport tagging both of you, at what you liked them and sent them a small message in apreciation for waiting at the airport

Arriving at the hotel, you sent Jack a text saying that you arrived while all of you registered to get the room keys and go to the rooms, on the elevator, you recieved a text from Coco Arquette

Coco 🥥

dude, are you here yet??

Y/N 🔪

omw to my room at the elevator

Coco 🥥

can i go??

mom is doing press and i'm bored

Y/N 🔪

ofc

my floor is the eleven

room 1107

Coco 🥥

omw

"Coco is coming", you informed, "She's bored"

"She's attending the premiere?", Skeet asked

"Yep, she's wearing a red dress, very Gale Weathers of her", you responded

"And you're wearing a black dress, which is very ghostface of you", Skeet pointed

"I know, is amazing", you exclaimed, "And we even didn't planned it, that's the best part"

Leaving the glam team on their designated floor, the elevator continued until it stopped at the eleventh floor where the concierge stepped out first with the cart with the luggage to led you to the suite, where while walking close you saw Coco leaning against the wall beside the room door

"Gale-Dewey", you exclaimed claiming her attention

"Billy", she exclaimed back

Since the two of you met a few years ago, both of you often refered each other as your parents characters

"Hi, I missed you", you said hugging her while the concierge opened the door to leave the luggage inside

"I missed you too", Coco said separating from the hug to enter the room with you, "Hi, uncle Skeet"

"Hey, kiddo, how's it going?", Skeet greeted with a fist bump, "Courtney knows you're here?"

"I sent her a text but they're doing press, so she hasn't seen it", Coco shrugged helping you with your luggage while you went to the small kitchen to grab snacks and something to drink

"I'll still text your mom to let her know you're here", Skeet said

"Dad, we'll be gossiping in my room", you anounced entering into one of the rooms

"Have fun and make sure there aren't any hidden microphones or cameras"

Closing the door and leaving the suitcases next to the closet, both of you took off your shoes to sit on the bed and open the snacks and drinks

"You won't guess who talked bad about me", you said while eating from the bag of Skinny POP popcorn

"Who?", Coco asked taking a sip from her Orangina juice

"Tana Mongeau"

"No fucking way! What did she said?"

"Well, I knew about it because a fan on Tik Tok sent me the clip of her podcast, basically she said that I came out of nowhere, that I was going to take advantage of Jack's fame and then jump into another famous guy, that I will be forgotten or live based on scandals, and that my fashion sense was basic as fuck"

"What the hell is her problem? You have been building your career since you were twelve during Riverdale with the cameos and the behind the scenes videos, your multiple campaigns with brands, you did a GRWM for Vogue a month ago, and she's more known for her scandals, didn't she had a baby she didn't know as a wallpaper?"

"Kylie Jenner's daughter, Stormi, it was so creepy, I'm glad they called her out"

"And please, basic fashion sense? You are one of the best dressed people I know, are you going to respond to her?"

"No, I'm going to ignore her, she doesn't deserve my energy"

"Well said", Coco nodded with a high five

"Anyways, how's it going everything on your side?"

During the next two hours, both of you updated on everything in your lives while taking photos and doing tik toks, which one of them was using an audio from 'In The Heights' from the song 'No me diga', or even from the first Scream

It was after the entry of the night and while both of you watched the resume of the qualifying for the Bahrein Grand Prix, the girls time was interrupted

"Tornado, a package arrived for you", Skeet exclaimed

Leaving what you were doing, both of you got out of your room to walk to the living room to see Jack standing there with a bouquet of flowers in his arms, and with comfortable clothes instead of his press outfit

"Babe", you squealed running to him

"Gorgeous", Jack smiled opening his arms for both of you to merge into a hug, "I'm glad you arrived well"

"I'm so glad to be here on time", you said without breaking the hug

The hug lasted a few minutes during which none of you noticed how Coco left the suite to go to her own not without taking a buch of photos of both of you, and Skeet went to his room

"These are for you", Jack said handing you the bouquet

"They are beautiful, thank you so much", you gasped apreciating them, "I'm going to put them in water"

Going into the small kitchen, with the help of Jack, both of you put the flowers in a vase with water and colocate them in your room

"Is the qualifying from today?", Jack asked seeing the screen

"Yes, ", you nodded sitting at the bed at what he did the same, "Max, Checo and Charles are the top three"

"And the guy that sent you that messages last year?"

"Eleven, and his new teammate, eighteen"

"Last year they got a good result, what happened to them?"

"Their car isn't as competitive as last year, the Red Bull on the other hand, is like a rocket ship"

"Basically a season of hearing the dutch or mexican anthems"

"Absolutely, maybe other anthems with luck, but I still want to see Lewis winning again and his eight championship"

"Abu Dhabi was traumatic"

"The FIA did a mess in the last laps, Mercedes owns him the championship"

"Do you think Lewis could swap teams in a future?"

"I honestly don't think so", you sighed, "Toto and him are close, it's like a father-son relationship at this point"

"Just like Charles and Ferrari, Max with Red Bull, Kevin with Haas, Lando with McLaren, Lance with Aston Martin, Esteban with Alpine, Yuki and Alpha Tauri, and etc"

"Exactly, they all have their favorites"

Still hearing the repeat of the qualifying, both of you organized your things in the bathroom and in the small closet, and after you changed in your pajamas, which were one of Jack's long sleeved shirts which was a bit big on you and comfy shorts, both of you lay in your bed to continue watching the highlights of the qualifying until eventually both of you fell asleep

The sunday, it was a lazy day for everyone, during the morning you and Jack woke up a bit early to watch the race, which started good for Red Bull with a 1-2, and then all the cast from the preview movie and the recent one hang out in the terrace of the hotel, slightly remembering the mini reunions during filming

When the monday arrived, which was the day of the premiere, the preparations started since early in the morning

"Everytime there's a premiere I feel like going to the MET Gala", you joked while the glam team did your hair and make up, "Especially being in this hotel"

"One day you will be there", Nora said while prepearing the dress, shoes and accesories, "Don't worry"

"Manifesting"

"What's the theme this year?", Skeet asked

"Karl Lagerfeld:A Line of Beauty", you responded, "He created iconic moments and looks in fashion, but doesn't excludes that he was a shitty and horrible person"

"What would you wear if you were going this year?", Tessa asked straightening your hair

"Chanel, and tweed", you quickly answered, "With pearls, you can't fail with that, and let's pray that men don't appear in black boring suits"

"Amen", everyone in the room exclaimed

The rest of the glam session continued with small talking and comments about the process of the looks, and scrolling through Twitter

"Guys, we created a masterpiece, again", you concluded seeing the entire look in front of the mirror, "This is not regular ghostface, this is cunty ghostface"

"What the fuck did you just said?", Skeet laughed while getting ready

"I mean, ghostface slays all the time, but this is fashionable ghostface", you explained also laughing, "Can you imagine a MET Gala horror themed? It would be awesome"

When both of you were ready, they took a few photos for social media and you did a few Tik Toks with audios from the movies, including the iconic "please don't kill me Mr. Ghostface, I want to be in the sequel", before going to the lobby and walk in the middle of the fans and paparazzi to the van

"Y/N, you look beautiful", one person exclaimed

"Thank you", you exclaimed in response before getting on the van

Fortunately, the ride wasn't long, so you arrived at the place of the premiere quite early, seeing more fans and paparazzi on the entrance

"Demi Lovato is already here", Rachel informed seeing her phone

"Really?", you asked with excitement

"She was one of the first to arrive", Rachel nodded

"I can't wait to met her", you squealed

Finally getting out of the car, you were welcomed by screams of fans and flashes from the paparazzis, stoping to take photos with them and giving autographs before entering

"How are you feeling the shoes?", Skeet asked while waiting to step into the red carpet

"Surprisingly, they are comfortable", you responded, "Besides, I used higher and pointy heels for the canadian premiere of Avatar, so I'll be good"

When they let you step into the carpet, you and your dad posed together for a few photos until you jokingly pushed him aside to take individual photos, then taking some with Melissa and then going back to take individual photos, until you felt a pair of arms you knew very well circling your waist

"Hi", you smiled turning your head to look at him, "You look more handsome"

"You look more gorgeous", Jack said kissing your cheek being careful of your make up and hair

Taking advantage of the moment, the press took photos and videos, some while you weren't paying attention to them, and then looking at the cameras and doing different poses

While Jack took some individual photos, you went and took some with the girls and also with Coco, before stepping aside so the cast and crew can take the group photo, until you heard your name being called by the cast to join the group photo, at what you trotted to stand between Jack and your dad

"How did you run with platform heels?", Jamine asked

"Dude, I don't know", you laughed

After the photos were taken, it was time for the interviews, the first one with Seventeen and then Vogue, when they gave you the instructions of what to say

"Hi Vogue, I'm Y/N Ulrich, I'm so happy to be here at the Scream 6 premiere, my dress is a Balmain, and I chose it because reminded me of the Ghostface costume, and this franchise has being part of my life since I was a little girl, so being here is so special, and tonight is the first time I'll be seeing the movie, and I hope everyone enjoys it, have a great night"

Fiishing that small segment, you went with MTV, where they gave you a mini mic

"It's a baby tiny mic", you exclaimed watching the mic, "I love it"

"Fisrt of all, it's an honor to be in front of horror royalty, the Ghostface Princess", the girl interviewing you said, "I feel like there's a lot to unravel of your outfit, which is amazing, so can you please give us the whole context"

"Of course", you nodded, "First of all, I have to give credits to my stylist whom I like to call my fairy godmothers because they make this possible, um, the dress is a Balmain which we chose beacuse the sleeves are like the Ghostface robe, and then we wanted to add pops of color red, which ended in the red platforms and my clutch, my earrings are mini bowie knives, the iconic Ghostface weapon, the rings which are from a local bussiness from LA are like the blood spilling and the iconic ghostface mask"

"And your make up is spectacular, I love the eyeliner and the red lips"

"Thank you so much, it's like what Taylor Swift said: 'draw the eyecat sharp enough to kill a man'"

"That's so genius, I love it, and please can we get a closer look at the nails because they are a piece of art", laughing you raised your hands so the camera could focus your nails, "Now that we did the outfit appreciation, we can talk about the reason why were here, the movie, you have a cameo, you met your boyfriend Jack in here, how does it feel to be part of this iconic franchise?"

"It feels like a full circle moment, you know, having seen the four first movies at eight years old, I watched them with dad and he told me behind the scenes, Neve, Courtney, Matthew, Rose, Jamie, Drew are like uncles and aunts to me, having a cameo and meeting Jack was so incredible, so yeah, it's amazing being oficially part of this legacy", you responded, "And also with this cast we are a big happy family, I love everyone"

"What can you say about the movie were about to see?"

"Well, I only was there one day to film my part and never returned to the set, because I hate spoilers", you laughed, "I only known the basic of the movie, and the change of scenary to this big city I think is an amazing concept, and what Radio Silence has done since they took charge of the story is incredible, they are continuing the legacy of Wes and honoring him, which I think is the most important, so yeah the way they create and develope storylines is one of the best thing I've seen, and happy to be part of it"

"Well, thank you so much for talking with us, it's always a pleasure"

"Thank you so much for having me, have a great night"

"You too"

Finishing the round of interviews, you went to the sidelines where you stayed with Anna to talk, and then walking to the theatre with everyone to watch the movie, and grabbing popcorn and something to drink

And after the directors and the cast, in which again insisted that you stand with them for the segment at what you accepted, said a few words about the film and thanking everyone for being present to watch it

"I'm excited", you smiled while the lights started to fade

"Any predictions on who Ghostface might be?", Jack asked

"I let you know after a few minutes of the movie", you responded

Being anxious of your reaction when the reaveal comes, Jack only smiled in a mischieview way

Certainly, you were shocked because the change of style of the openning but in a good way, and then you were mad at Sam's therapist

"There's us", you smiled seeing the small scene

"I'm so happy that I asked you on a date", Jack said in a small voice

"And I'm happy that I accepted", you responded in the same tone resting your head on his shoulder

For the rest of the movie, you resisted the urge to bite your nails, instead holding Jack's hand or arm, and also regretting not being on set for the shrine filming days because of your "no spoilers" rule, and also laughing when Ethan said the phrase 'am I going to die a virgin?'

When the third act started, you were already in tears because all the injured or dead characters that you didn't notice how Jack got his phone out to film your reactions

"Holy shit", you murmured after Wayne Bailey revealed himself as a ghostface, and then the ghostface at his left started to lift his mask leaving you more shocked, at what you turned to look at your boyfriend, "You're ghostface"

"Surprise", Jack laughed

"Oh my God", you murmured returning to watch the movie, only to see Liana's character alive being the third ghostface, "Oh my God!"

Apparently your voice resonated in the theatre because you heard some laughs

For the entire third act you were at the edge of your seat watching how everything was developing, and suffering by the way Ethan died, and then cheering when Sam and Tara's plan worked and the core four, Kirby, Gale and Danny were alright

"My honest opinion of Ethan, good boy and ghostface: it was hot", you said to Jack while the credits started, "You nailed it"

"Really?"

"Absolutely, by the way, please, if your comfortable, can you please call me 'sweet dumb thing'?"

Laughing a little, Jack got a bit closer to you until his face was next to your ear

"Sweet dumb thing", he said in a low voice that made you giggle

jackchampion, melissabarreram, skeetulrich, ddlovato, guywithamoviecamera, and 127,096 more

yn.ulrich happy Scream VI premiere day for those who celebrate!!

I just saw the movie, and I swear this is no biased, but is absolutely amazing, you are not ready for everything that is going to happen

Congratulations to the amazing cast and crew who worked really hard on this film, you did a fantastic job by assembling everything

don't forget to purchase tickets in your nearest theatre

tagged jackchampion screammovies

jackchampion I can't get over how beautiful you looked tonight

› yn.ulrich babeeeeeee, you're making me blush

user061 MOTHER, LET ME VISIT YOUR CLOSET, I NEED TO SEE IT

francisca.cgomes 😍😍

cocoarquette_ the best ulrich

› yn.ulrich the best arquette-cox

screammovies it was an honnor to have royalty watching our bloodshed

julrich21 you see her all glam in the carpets but in reallity she dresses like a homeless when she's at home

› yn.ulrich stfu and go try grow a real mustache instead of the three hairs in your face

› naiia 🍿🍿

› skeetulrich 🤦🏻‍♂️

[newpathwrites]

Arms Wide Open - Chapter 6

For once your mind was blissfully blank, no pulls or whispers from that intrusive and annoyingly useless force energy you carried around with you.  

This was just him and you sharing the same space and having one hell of a pleasurable time doing it.  Even if you stopped right here, your intimate needs could be satisfied for another decade. 

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Summary: Din takes a leap of faith.

Notes: Regarding reader - there is a reference to her hair in this chapter which you can imagine as any length in this scenario (but she does have hair).

Warnings: Sexual themes and references, intimate situations.  Rating will be updated to mature for chapter 7.

Word count: 1.6k

Read on AO3

________________________________________

To say Din’s invitation to come over for a night alone was titillating would be a massive understatement.  As the day’s work wrapped up, you were buzzing with an odd mixture of nerves, excitement, arousal… 

And a healthy dose of caution…

You’d been a bit overly eager from the beginning on account of your years-long state of touch starvation, while Din had needed quite a bit more time to warm up to physical contact.  You would need to keep your expectations in check here.  Maybe he wanted nothing more than to cuddle on the couch, and that would be perfectly satisfying, too.

Should you pack an overnight bag just in case?  No - that would be presumptuous and put undue pressure on the situation.  Your own cabin was only minutes away, after all.

You tried to relax, calling on some calming energy.  It was best to just go with the flow tonight and follow his lead, free of expectation.

—————————————————————-

You were shocked to find Din already completely armorless, save for the helmet, when you arrived at his cabin.  

He was wearing a simple thin compression shirt and plain black pants, likely the attire he normally wore under his flight suit.  The material clung to his form, highlighting his solid physique, and his neck was bare, freed from the cowl.  You’d never seen so much of him before.

He was letting you in….

The desire was creeping up on you despite your sincere intention to remain even-keeled.  Why did he have to be so kriffing sexy?

Those ideas were pushed by sheer will to the back of your mind.  No assumptions tonight… no expectations…

“You look different without the armor,” you said warmly as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace which he returned without hesitation, relishing in this now familiar gesture.  

“Do you approve?  Or do I look like a fool in only the helmet?”  There was an uncharacteristic lightness to his voice today that gave you butterflies.

“Oh, I very much approve, Din,” you replied, looking him up and down in a mock suggestive manner.  “I told you I wanted to get you out of the armor, did I not?”

“Yeah, you did...” he huffed a bit nervously before clearing his throat.  “Uhhh… I attempted dinner if you’d like to eat.  Grogu’s not here, so we won’t have to inhale our food before he snatches it.”

You chuckled - Grogu’s endless pit had become a nightly amusement.  “Let’s eat.  I brought a holovid I think you’d like for later.”

It appeared that Din’s plans were of a more casual nature tonight.  

And that was fine.

—————————————————————-

The holovid would remain unwatched.

As you stepped into the living room area after dinner, Din suddenly stopped you with a hand on your wrist before you could reach for your bag to retrieve the disk.

“Flora, could we just… talk… instead?”

You nodded, a little concerned by his anxious tone.  “Yeah, of course.”

He never let go of your hand as he took his seat on the couch, tugging you lightly down toward him.  It became clear what he was silently asking you to do.

Okay… so maybe not so casual after all… This was a crystal clear signal that he was sending you right now.

You grinned and sunk down on his lap, your hips straddling his blessedly unarmored thighs and hands on his shoulders, settling into the same position that had overwhelmed him on the day you first met.

Make no assumptions, you reminded yourself.  You would take each advance at surface level - he was comfortable having you on his lap, and that’s all you knew right now.

Still, the air between you felt charged.

He took a calming breath before bringing the visor to your forehead.  His gloveless hand came to your cheek and then curved around the back of your neck, threading into your hair.  Maker… he’d never touched you quite like this before, and it was exhilarating.

“Thank you for being so patient with me…” he finally spoke in a genuine and hushed tone, bringing his other hand to take yours.

“Of course, Din.  I enjoy spending time with you regard-... oh…” 

You gasped in shock as he slid your hand under the lip of his helmet, allowing your palm to rest against his face, his beard coarse against your fingers.

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve done… anything like this…” he told you honestly, making you gasp again as he twisted your hand a bit to kiss your wrist before letting go.  “But I want to… I’m just… anxious…”

Who was this man touching you with such intention?  How did he know exactly what to do?

You suddenly recalled that he’d mentioned off-hand that very first night being briefly married as a much younger man.  So of course, you supposed, he’d done all of this plenty of times before and likely sans helmet.  But had he not been with anyone since then?  

If so, offering his face to you in this way was an incredibly significant thing.

And you realized with a thrill that despite your early assumptions about his hesitant nature, this man was not inexperienced - but rather unaccustomed after apparently many years alone.  Oh, if this actually happened, it was going to be even better than you had imagined.

Calm your jets, Flora.  Breathe in, breathe out.

“Tell me what you’re worried about, Din,” you whispered, trailing your fingers over as much of his face as you could reach under the metal, mapping out his features.  His eyes fluttered closed under your touch, and he released a contented sigh.  “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready.”

He exhaled long and slow.  “I’m ready.  But what if it’s just… bad…?  I don’t know that I was ever good at this to begin with… and it’s been such a long time…”

Your hand slipped back to run through his hair as you offered reassurance, rewarded with a subtle groan of pleasure as it continued out the backside of the helmet to smooth over the exposed skin of his neck and collar bones.

“You’re doing just fine so far, Din,” you said with a fond smile, desperately trying to keep your own body’s reactions under control.  “And there hasn’t been a single moment spent with you that I haven’t enjoyed.  So… clumsy and awkward or not… I have no doubt I’ll enjoy this, too.”

He nodded against your forehead.

You were both quiet then, just breathing together for a moment, mentally preparing to begin this new adventure, when he suddenly shifted and moved you off his lap, rising to his feet.

“Let’s do it right, then.  Hold on.”

————————————————————

Din moved about the small cabin, securing all of the window shades and methodically shutting off the overhead lighting.  You could only make out his silhouette now.  It was otherwise pitch black, though he moved with ease, probably aided by night vision.

Finally, he took a seat again next to you, and before you had the time to question the necessity of such complete darkness, he was bringing his hands to each side of his helmet and pulling it off his head.

“Oh, kriff!” you exclaimed in panic, turning your back to him.  “No, Din… Don’t do that.  Your creed…”

“…is only broken if you see my face,” he replied calmly, turning you back around with a hand to your shoulder.  “It’s okay.  I got permission from the Manda’lor, anyway.”

Ah, he must have confided in Bo-Katan about your relationship.  

Despite your lingering worry about his creed, you couldn’t help a smile.  His dry humor knew no bounds.

“You’re sure?” you questioned, keeping your eyes downcast just in case.

“Completely.”

Okay, then.

You finally turned toward him fully and lifted your eyes to his face.  Just a shadow - safe for now, at least.

Dank farrik, you could kiss him.  Why else would he take off his helmet?  In none of your fantasies did you even consider that possibility.  

Those thoughts had you eagerly scrambling back on to his lap.  But, you reminded yourself, there were to be no assumptions tonight.

So instead of kissing him as you desired, you continued what he’d started himself, wordlessly bringing your hands back to his face and exploring his features more freely than you were able under the metal of his visor.  “What color are your eyes, Din?  Is it okay to ask?”

His hands were busy, too, finally taking the liberty of really touching you, however innocently, running up your arms, over your shoulders and down your back, and up and down your sides.  Oh, he had been yearning for this, too.

“You can ask me whatever you want,” he replied softly.  “They’re brown.”

“You’re very handsome,” you whispered, hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

He huffed but didn’t respond, forehead coming to rest on yours.  Stars, he was so close, nothing at all between you now.  His nose nuzzled yours, and you could feel his breath hot against your neck.  It would be so easy - maybe you should just ask.

But you didn’t get the chance because suddenly he was closing the gap, and his mouth was on yours.

The first kiss was light and chaste and brief - you were both very out of practice here.  But it didn’t stay that way for long.  

Soon his mouth was pressing more firmly and insistently against yours… and then lips were parting… and tongues were meeting… and hands were caressing faces and tangling in hair and slipping under clothing…

For once your mind was blissfully blank, no pulls or whispers from that intrusive and annoyingly useless force energy you carried around with you.  

This was just him and you sharing the same space and having one hell of a pleasurable time doing it.  Even if you stopped right here, your intimate needs could be satisfied for another decade. 

This was the kind of kiss you had dreamed about - one based first in true affection and companionship and familiarity before anything else.

Oh, Maker… you were falling in love with this man…

—-------------------------------------

Next chapter

[disasterofastory]

Date (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Date alpha!Steve Rogers x omega!Reader Day 27 - Starry night // December 2022 and Alpha!Steve Masterlist Warnings: none

Summary: You go on a date with Steve.

At first, you don't even notice him in the coffee shop. You are too focused on the book in front of you, engrossed in the story. The tea you ordered is long forgotten. The scent of lemon still lingers in the air, and the fruity taste is on your tongue. Soft music plays in the background, mixing with the quiet conversation all around the shop. The Christmas decorations are still up. A small Christmas tree on the counter. Red ornaments hang on the windows.

"Y/N?" A deep voice disturbs the scene playing in your mind. Before the first kiss between the main characters. You need a few seconds to look up from the paper. "Oh," you gasp, clearing your throat. "Steve." The tall alpha stands next to your table with coffee in hand. The dark green coat on him is new. You have no idea why you know it. "I'm sorry," he says with a small smile. "I didn't want to disturb you." "No," you shake your head. "It's fine. It's good to see you." "It's good to see you too," Steve replies. "Truth be told, I wanted to talk to you." Surprise washes over your face at his words. "Yeah? About what?" "Are you free tonight? For dinner?"

The world fades away around you. A dinner? With him? With Steve? The blonde man can read you like an open book. His gentle smile changes into a smirk when seconds pass by, and you stay frozen, mouth open, eyes full of wonder. "With you?" You rasp out. "I mean I know I didn't go over for Christmas, but…" "Just you and me, Y/N," Steve says. "No family." "Oh," you hum, licking your dry lips. His crystal blue eyes follow the small movement with a tint of hunger in his intense gaze. "Yeah," you exhale. "I-I'm free tonight." "Good, omega," he nods with satisfaction on his bearded face. "I will pick you up at seven tonight." "My address is…" you start, but he cuts in with a deep chuckle. "I know your address, sweet girl." "Oh," you nod. The heat of embarrassment creeps up on your cheeks. "Right. Of course."

-

The town doesn't have many restaurants and definitely not fancy ones, so you feel safe wearing your usual clothes for your dinner with Steve. "You are beautiful," Steve says immediately when you open the door to greet him. "Thank you." A shaky smile pulls on your lips as you look down at yourself. He doesn't mean what you wear, but he keeps the fact to himself. You could wear anything, and you would be the most beautiful woman in his eyes.

Macy's restaurant is on the main street. The old lady opened the place when she moved here long years ago, and since then, it has become a family business. Like most of the businesses here. "I hope it's okay," Steve says when he lets you in first. "I didn't want to go to the city because of the upcoming snowstorm." "I love Macy," you smile brightly at the man. "She is the best." He makes a mental note of your comment and everything else you say. He wants to remember your favorite places and foods he can get you in the future.

"So," Steve says after sitting down in front of you at the other side of the table. "How was your Christmas? I was devastated when you didn't call." Amusement lingers in his tone despite his words. The man really waited for your call but didn't want to come on you too strongly. He would hate to scare you away. "I'm sorry," you reply, embarrassed. "I just…" Your thoughts race in your head as you try to come up with an excuse. In reality, you were too scared to call him. And the thought of spending Christmas with him seemed too much for your heart. "Hey," Steve smiles softly at you as he reaches over the table to place his large hand on yours. "It's okay. I understand." "And how was your Christmas?" You ask him just to change the topic. The words roll down from your tongue slowly and heavily. Every nerve in you is focused on his warm touch. "It was… loud," Steve smiles. His bright blue eyes shine with love and devotion for his family. "They can be rowdy when everyone comes home." "Your brothers moved away, right?" You ask him. "Yeah. They are married with kids." "And why did you stay?" You ask him. "I mean… Bucky and you could be much more successful with much more opportunities elsewhere." "We thought about it," Steve nods with a shrug of his wide shoulders. "But this town is… home." "Yeah," you hum. "I know the feeling." "That's why you didn't move with your parents?" "Yes. I can't imagine myself elsewhere."

Your night with the blond alpha goes smoothly. You talk, laugh, and eat. Steve is funny and smart. You enjoy every minute with him. He almost makes you forget your crush on him but the hot tension in your belly stays with you the whole night to remind you of your feelings. The man is everything you imagined him to be. A real alpha with confidence and kindness.

"I want to be honest, Y/N," he says as the night comes to an end. "I had an ulterior motive when I asked you out." You can't help but fidget at his words. "Yeah?" "I want to ask for your permission to court you." The world froze around you once again. The quiet conversation and soft music get quiet, and you see nothing but the man in front of you. He is broad and still so gentle. A soft smile plays on his lips as he waits for your answer. "You want to court me?" You exhale. "Like…an alpha to an omega?" "Exactly like that." Warmth spreads across Steve's chest at your surprise. Why is it so hard to believe? You are everything he wants and needs. "Okay, I guess." A grimace contorts your face at your own words. "I mean…" "You are too sweet, omega," he chuckles. "I'm sorry," you sigh, trying to swallow back your rapidly beating heart. The heat warms your body, and your scent gets stronger. Steve's senses are filled with the sweet smell of you that makes him crave more. "I just don't understand why you want me," you admit, confused and embarrassed. "Why wouldn't I?" His smile is gentle and patient. "You are smart and beautiful. You work hard for the community, and you are stubborn and cute." "And what courting would mean with you?" Courting is different for every couple. Some leave it out entirely, and others choose the traditional ways or do it as they see fit. "I will prove to you that I am worthy of you." He has nothing to prove, but you keep quiet. You really want to know how it feels when a man like Steve wants you. "Okay," you nod. Your lips jerk upwards, and excitement bubbles up in your chest. "I would like it very much."

[irishcoyote]

Inflamed Sense of Rejection: Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: This is that Angel Face backstory I was talking about. His name is Caleb Handover because I'm not going to call him Angel Face the whole time. There will be no "spice" because I type this on a school computer and honestly I want to expand my writing abilities. ~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a horrible way to start a journal, probably the most over-done and unintriguing sentence used to start a story, but my name is Caleb Handover. I’m 16 years old, and I live in Wilmington, Delaware. I go to Mt. Pleasant High School, class of 2001. That makes me a Junior.

It’s boring. Every single day is the same. The ducks pass over the sky when I’m walking to school, and it looked cool when I was nine, but nowadays it just feels like I’m watching someone drive to work. 

Delaware duck schedule: 6 AM, wake up to the same alarm as everyone in the neighborhood. 7 AM, fly to the pond for breakfast and a bath. Pass by that blond kid again. 

My hair was born white. People on the street asked my mom while she was pushing the stroller, why do you bleach your baby’s hair? 

She never did. 

 First period is Advanced Placement Calculus. I’m thinking about ducks. Derivatives, ducks, hyperbolas, ducks, factorials, ducks, integrals…

My mom called my hair duck-fuzz.  

I like math, but I only say that because high schoolers have to like something. If you say you don’t like any subjects in school, you sound like a wannabe-dropout loser. I’m 16 years old and taking AP Calculus. I don’t think I’m a wannabe anything, but I don’t think I’m genuine, either. I’ve already done the warmup question on the board. Find 34! It’s just a factorial. Does anyone see me?

“Caleb Handover?”

Only during attendance. 

I raise my hand until my elbow is about six inches off of my table, parallel to the smooth, fake-wood surface. Not high enough to seem like a geek, but still giving effort.  

Invisibility is a science.

“Here.” 

There’s a pause. My hand stays in the air.

“Caleb Handover?” my teacher tilts his chin up and surveys the room, his pencil hovering over my name, ready to write truant. 

“I said I’m here,” I said louder as I raised my hand higher. My pen balances between my peace-sign fingers. My teacher flicks his eyes to me, and his eyebrows soften. He adjusts his glasses. The sad taste of desperation lingered in my mouth after essentially begging to be accounted for.

“Oh, hello Caleb. Sorry I didn’t see you.” My teacher laughs dryly and clears his throat. “Serena Hofstadter?” 

She has mono. 

“Gordon Jacobs?” 

That’s how Serena got mono.

For a moment I picture Serena and Gordon as Romeo and Juliet during the final act. Gordon drinks from a tall, crystal vial of mononucleosis extract and collapses. Serena, covered head-to-toe in orange spray tan and blonde highlights underneath her Shakespearean garb, discovers him on the floor and gives a tearful soliloquy before kissing him feverishly in an attempt to drink the mono from his lips. In the end, they’re both bedridden, and everyone knows. 

In fair Delaware we lay our scene.

I don’t know why, but I’m angry at them. Serena and Gordon. My knuckles turn white as I grip my pen harder, gritting my teeth and thinking about my peers who go to parties to drink and kiss and do drugs. I didn’t even think parties were a real thing until I started listening to rich kids’ conversations. 

“I got home so late last night…” quote from the boy wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

“I’m, like, so hungover.” quote from the girl wearing sunglasses indoors at 8:30 AM.

“Her house was so tacky.” quote from the girl whose locker is head-to-toe in sequins and leopard print, who uses perfume to cover the smell of anxiety pheromones. 

I’m not jealous, and I’d rather have lifelong diarrhea than be in the same boat as these kids, but it would be nice to have a life. 

It would be nice to be a part of something bigger than myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note: Please let me know what you think, and if I should keep writing this. It would be appreciated :)

[ljnsdump]

Broken? No, Just Rearranging (SERIES)

Kim Mingyu x Female Reader

Kim Mingyu as Lucas Blue Ramirez and Y/N as Ara Riona Teves De La Vega

Just let go of the illusion that it could have been any different.

Genre: M/F, old friends to lovers, fluff(in the next chapters), smut (not in this chap tho), angst, late 20s established career setting

Warnings: Just mean, bratty and hateful OC

Word Count: 2 318

Hello and welcome to my first ever series! This is the second chapter already, I hope you guys would enjoy reading this!

----

CHAPTER 2: Welcome Note

She woke up early dahil alam niyang marami siyang kailangang ngayong araw. As usual, her outfits are never toned down.

Her hair was just dried and brushed today leaving it with natural waves. She's wearing a baby blue high neck, bell-sleeved wide leg jumpsuit with belt and a pointed-toe pump of the same color. She wore those with simple accessories with white crystals on it.

Pagbukas ng elevator, nakatayo na doon si Blue. She threw the car keys to him.

"May nag-iwan ng bulaklak para sayo." Sabi ni Blue at umangat ang isang kilay ni Ara.

"Galing kay?"

"Hindi namin alam. Dineliver lang naman ito ng isang flower shop." He shrugs. Pumunta sila sa may sala at nakita ang flower arrangement na napakalaki.

"Orange lillies." Bigkas ni Ara habang kinukuha ang note na nakalagay dito.

"WELCOME HOME, THIEF."

It said.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Who could this be from?" She asks herself. "Burn that." Utos niya sa kasambahay na nagmadali naman para kunin ang bulaklak.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "What's my schedule for today?" Tanong niya kay Blue habang nagtitimpi ng galit.

He held the iPad up. "You'll have a meeting with the board of directors in the morning then later in the afternoon you'll have a meeting with the corporate officers and then film and shoot for both Clear Cosmetics and DLV Fashion." He reads.

Sumakay silang dalawa sa puting Aston Martin Rapide ni Ara. Si Blue ang nagdadrive.

"What was written on that note?" Tanong ni Blue.

"It's got nothing to do with you." She replied.

He snickered. "You were flustered upon seeing it. You can tell me, I can help you with anything."

"You're making me hate you." She said through gritted teeth.

"So you don't hate me yet?" He grins at mas lalong nagpapainis sa kanya.

She shut her eyes and ignored him. Pagdating nila kompanya ay gumawa ng mabilis na check up si Ara sa mga nagtatrabaho. Pumunta siya sa laboratory kung saan nagfo-formulate ng mga bagong produkto. Isinuot ni Blue sa kanya ang lab coat, protective eye glass, mask at gloves.

Isang magandang babae ang bumati sa kanya pagpasok ng laboratoryo. "Magandang umaga po, ako po si Anne ang Creative Director ng Clear Cosmetics. Isa rin po akong cosmetologist."

She smiled and nodded. "What are you guys currently working on?" She asks.

"Well, we're just working on new formulas for a new eyeshadow palette and we're just waiting for your ideas about it." She replied.

"Maybe I'll come back here tomorrow. I have my schedule packed for today kasi. I'm just doing a quick look right now."

Anne smiles. "Wala pong problema."

Lumabas sila Blue at Ara sa laboratory. "Put that on my schedule for tomorrow." Sabi niya kay Blue at agad itong tumango at binuksan ang iPad na dala niya.

Sumakay na sila ng elevator paakyat ng ikalawang palapag. All these sewing machines and mannequins are riled up on the entire floor. Sa pinakadulo ay may mga opisina. Doon sila nagtungo.

"Hi, how are we doing here?" Tanong ni Ara general manager ng De la Vega Fashion na bakla.

"Good morning, Miss de la Vega." Bati nito. "Everything's running well. We have our three professional designers here with us. The production of our current products are always on going, they never stop. Our designers have designs that need approval from you so we can start the production and launch them soon."

"Send them to my office, I'll look at them as soon as I can. Medyo busy pa kasi ngayon kasi pangalawang araw ko palang dito." Sagot niya.

"And we'd also like to see designs from you as well, Ms. De la Vega. But for now, please take your time." He smiled and she smiled back.

"Thank you."

Nagring ang telepono ni Blue, tumatawag ang secretary ng kompanya. "Blue, andito na ang board of directors."

"Sige, aakyat na kami dyan." Sagot ni Blue. Lumapit siya kay Aya at bumulong. "Nandun na sila lahat."

"We need to get going." Paalam niya sa kanila at umalis na sila. Before riding the elevator, he took of all her PPE and handed it to someone.

They rode the elevator and she scanned herself through the glass.

"You look fine." Blue comments.

"I know." She replied and he rolled his eyes in her confidence.

Pagkatapos ng kanyang meeting ay agad siyang pumunta sa kanyang opisina kasama si Blue.

"Anong gusto mong kainin?"

"Coq au vin."

Kinuha ni Blue ang kanyang phone mula sa bulsa at may tinawagan.

"Pakiluto po ng Coq au vin, diyan kakain si Ara." Sabi niya.

Nagulat naman si Ara. Hindi siya makapaniwalang nasabi ni Blue ng maayos at perpekto ang French na salitang iyon.

"Tara?" Tanong ni Blue sa kanya.

"Where?"

"Kakain."

Lumabas sila ng building at sumakay sa sasakyan. Pinaharurot ito ni Blue. Huminto at pinarada ang sasakyan sa restaurant na may pangalang Le Patrimoine.

"Why did you bring me here?" Tanong niya. Dinala kasi siya sa restaurant na kanila rin. Iba-ibang branches at locations at bawat isa nito ay naka concentrate sa isang cuisine. Le Patrimoine ang tawag sa restaurant na ito na sa ingles ay The Patrimony. Iba iba ang pangngalan ng mga restaurant nila ayon na ayon sa cuisine na ginagawa nito ngunit iisa lang rin naman ang kahulugan sa ingles.

"Wala namang ibang restaurant na malapit na gumagawa ng pagkaing gusto mong kainin eh."

Ang namamahala ng buong De la Vega Foods ay ang pinalitan ni Ara na namamahala noon ng Cosmetics and Fashion company nila na mommy ni Aimee.

"You're so annoying." Sabi ni Ara kay Blue at pumasok na ng restaurant.

Pagpasok niya ay nakita niya agad ang kapatid ng dad niyang si Margarette na para bang naghihintay talaga sa kanya. "Kamusta naman ang kompanya?" Tanong nito sa kanya habang nakangiti.

She smiled back, but fakely. "It was fine." But her face suddenly turned serious and emotionless within a second. "But it could have been better."

Margarette was insulted by her remarks but she stayed cool despite the rage in her chest. "Why don't we eat together?"

They both sat across from each other. "What would you like to drink?" Tanong ng waiter sa kanila.

"Château Montelena Chardonnay." She said in thick French accent.

"I'll have champagne." Sabi naman ni Margarette.

"How's Aimee?" She asks.

"She was actually studying fashion but you suddenly came." She smiled bitterly. "Now she has shifted to culinary. Her place was stolen from her, apparently."

Something in her mind rang when Margarette said 'stolen'. She received flowers this morning and had a note that called her a thief, now, Margarette says that she stole Aimee's place from her. She smirked at the thought.

"Aimee is good with me. Honestly, she was the one who told me first that I was going to replace you in that company." She replied and their drinks arrived.

"You're food will be arriving soon." The waiter said and poured wines on their glasses.

Pagkatapos nilang kumain, umalis agad si Ara.

"You're so fucking annoying." Sabi ni Ara kay Blue pagpasok niya ng sasakyan. Kumunot naman ang noo ni Blue at nagtaka.

"Tita mo yun." Sagot niya.

"Just shut up. Buy me food."

"Hindi ka pa busog?!"

"SA TINGIN MO MAKAKAIN AKO NG MAAYOS KASAMA ANG BRUHANG YUN?!" She screamed in anger at him. He stopped the car and took a deep breath tas pinaharurot ulit.

"Anong gusto mong kainin?"

Hindi sumagot si Ara kaya dumaan nalang sila sa drive-thru ng isang fast food at bumili si Blue ng kahit ano.

They went to her office. Dala dala ni Blue ang mga paper bag na may take out food.

"Ms. De la Vega, mag nag-iwan po ng regalo para sa inyo. Nilagay nalang po namin sa opisina niyo." Sabi ng nakasalubong nilang trabahante.

Kumunot ang noo ng dalawa. "Sino ang nag-iwan?"

"Hindi po namin kilala, naka helmet rin po." Sagot nito.

Pagpasok nila sa opisina ay agad nilang nakita ang kahon na kasing laki ng shoe box na nakapatong sa lamesa ni Ara. Kinuha niya ito gamit ng dalawang kamay pero pinigilan siya ni Blue.

"Ako nang magbubukas, baka ano pa ang laman niyan." Sabi ni Blue at babawiin sana ito ngunit hinigpitan ni Ara ang hawak niya dito.

"Kala mo naman kung sinong may kapangyarihan." She rolls her eyes at him and opened the box.

Every small motion of her body stopped when she saw a dagger. Ginto ang hawakan nito at may disenyo. Agad itong binawi ni Blue mula sa kanya.

"Akin na yan!" Nagpupumilit si Ara para makuha ito dahil may papel sa ilalim nito. Kinuha naman iyon ni Blue at binasa.

Padabog siyang lumabas ng opisina dala ang kahon at laman nito at bumaba. Hindi na siya naabutan ni Ara dahil sa bilis ng kanyang paglakad.

Bumalik nalang si Ara sa opisina niya. Kumuha siya ng bote ng wine at wine glass sa maliit na wine bar na kanyang pinagawa talaga para sa opisina niya.

Nakasandal siya sa lamesa niya habang umiinom at nag-iisip kung sino man ang maaaring magbigay sa kanya ng ganun. All she can think of is Margarette or her cousins.

She was snapped back to reality when Blue's phone rang. Katabi ito ng mga pagkaing binili nila.

'SECRETARY'

She picked it up.

"Blue, andito na ang corporate officers." Sabi ng babae sa kabilang linya.

"This is Ara, I'm coming." Sagot ni Ara at lumabas ng opisina para pumunta ng conference room.

Tinapon ni Blue ang kahon at ang laman nito maliban lang sa sulat na kasama nito. Bumalik siya sa opisina ni Ara. Nakita niya ang bote ng alak at baso na nasa lamesa ni Ara. Napasinghap nalang siya at kinuha ang phone niya. Lumabas ulit ito habang mag dinadial na numero. Pagkatapos ng ilang ring, sumagot naman agad ito.

"Blue?"

"Aimee, pwede ba tayong mag kita?" Tanong ni Blue na para bang nagmamadali.

"Ngayon? Like right now?"

"Oo."

"Sige, saan ba?"

"Yung cafè malapit dito sa kompanya. Wala kasi akong sasakyan."

"Sige sige."

Walking distance lang naman yung tinutukoy nilang cafè mula sa kompanya. Unang dumating si Blue obviously, umupo lang siya dun para hintayin si Aimee.

Dumating siya sakay ng kanyang sedan.

"May problema ba?" Tanong niya kay Blue nang makaupo na siya sa tapat nito.

Kinuha ni Blue ang sulat na kasama nung kahon at binuklat ito sa harap ni Aimee. Napataas agad ang kilay ng dalaga.

'Thiefs belong somewhere else.'

"What's that?" She asked.

"May nagpadala ng balak sa opisina ni Ara kanina at ito ang kasamang sulat."

"Sino ang pinanhihinalaan niyo?"

"Hindi pa kami nag-usap dahil may meeting siya at dumiretso ako dito pagkatapos kong itapon yun." Sagot ni Blue na halatang nag-aalala. "Sino ba kasi ang mga kaaway ni Ara? Ba't bigla na lang siyang umuwi dito?"

"Hindi ko rin alam. Eh anong balak mo ngayon?"

"Ako mismo ang maghahanap sa kung sino man ang nagbibigay nito sa kanya."

She worriedly looked at him. "Umiwas kayo sa pahamak, ha!"

"Wait, kasama naming kumain ang mommy mo kanina. Galit na galit siya kay Ara pero hindi niya lang pinapakita, halata naman."

"She was the previous president of that company."

Pagkatapos ng meeting ay agad na lumabas si Ara. Nakakita niyang naglalakad papunta sa kanya si Blue. Naka puting button-up shirt nalang ito na rolled up ang manggas at tinanggal na ang kanyang blazer na suot. Nasa bulsa ang kanyang mga kamay habang nakatingin kay Ara.

"Wala ka sa meeting." Sabi ni Ara at huminto si Blue sa harap niya.

"May pinuntahan ako." Sabi nito ng walang kahit anong emosyon sa mukha. "Tara na sa studio ng Clear, gagawa ka pa ng video."

Pumasok sila sa studio na maraming reflectors, ilaw at camera. "Hi, I'm Wendy, the social media strategist of Clear Cosmetics. Congratulations for being the new president of both Clear and DLVF." Bati ng babae.

Ngumiti naman si Ara kahit wala siyang gana ngayon. "Thank you."

"Today, you'll be doing your own make up on camera using our products, and introducing yourself as the new president of this company. This will be uploaded on YouTube and will also be shown in our website."

"Am I going to do a lot of talking?" She asks.

"Unfortunately, yes. You're supposed to look and feel active and lively." She replied.

"I want to change my outfit." She said.

"Oh, okay." Wendy nods. "Let's go next door. This is the closet for shoots. All clothes are from DLVF. Please choose whatever suits you well and take your time."

Lumabas ng closet si Wendy at naiwan dun ay sina Blue at Ara na lang. Nagkatinginan sila.

"O, anong tinitingin tingin mo?! Magbibihis ako!" Sigaw ni Ara sa kanya. Tumalikod naman siya.

She chose a crimson red frill-puff sleeved bodycon dress. The dress ends a little higher than her mid-thigh and shows her body curve.

She also wore fluffy slides since she did not find any heels that would suit her dress. "I'm done." She said at humarap na si Blue sa kanya.

He looked at her from head to toe. The dress looked perfect on her but he doesn’t have the courage to say. "You're so short." He, instead, points out.

Sinamaan siya ng tingin ni Ara. "Don't get me started."

Lumabas silang dalawa sa closet at pumasok sa studio.

Nasurpresa ata si Wendy nang makita si Ara. "Ang sexy niyo naman po! Umupo po muna kayo nandito na ang hairdresser."

Inunat ang buhok niya habang tinatanggal ng isa ang make up niya. Nilagyan ang kanyang buhok ng pulang clips na babagay sa suot niya.

Nakaset-up na ang lahat. Nakaupo lang si Blue sa harap ng monitor. "Simula na po tayo." Sabi ni Wendy.

"Hi, guys! I am Clear Cosmetics' new President and CEO, Araa Riona de la Vega. Today, I will be showing you a few of my favorites from our cosmetic line."

"She's totally different on camera." Blue thought.

[scrapsovereign]

That One Time I Got Kidnapped By An Evil Vampire Lord Ch. 3

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57838303/chapters/147545899#workskin

Summary:

Ari fucks around and finds out. Mackenzie's meeting with Rion doesn't go how either of them had planned.

Pairings: past Ascended Astarion x Evil male!Tav, Ascended Astarion x Original Female Character

Trigger warnings/Tags: cheating, intimate partner violence, abusive relationships, medical settings, body shaming, internalized fatphobia, Threats/mentioning of suicide/self-harm, referenced sexual assault, panic attacks/PTSD episode, Mention of swatting/police.

Downtown Seattle, Washington  

Mercy West Medical Group Primary Care Clinic

Thursday, August 24th 

4:53 PM

Nurse Amanda buries her head in her hands as she nods along to the patient she’s speaking with on the phone. 

“I’m hearing that it’s hard for you to take time to come in for an appointment because you need to take care of your kids, your husband, and go to work. But look at it this way, taking time to do a virtual or in person appointment for 20 minutes to see Dr. Calloway to figure out whyyou’re having these symptoms is taking care of your family too. By setting aside the time for yourself, you’re- hello? Ma’am?”

She re-dials the number with her face scrunched up in a grimace, goes straight to the patient's voicemail, and leaves a polite message to call back. 

Amanda is in the middle of typing a passive-aggressive message to Dr. Calloway when Mackenzie leans on the doorframe, clearing her throat to catch her attention. 

“Why do they call and ask for advice, Mac. Why. They’re just going to tell me they know better, refuse to come in, and hang up- HOT DAMN LOOK AT YOU,” Amanda’s blue eyes go wide as she gives Mac a once over with a whistle. “Come here, let me see you.”

Mackenzie does a twirl, the raven-colored silk of her skirt flaring in a circle as Amanda examines the style and craftsmanship of the cocktail dress Mackenzie wears. 

“That fits you like a glove, like it was made for you. Holy shit. Everything’s perfect. Are those zippers to show some leg? Are those french seams? And the ankle strap on those shoes? Whew!” Amanda billows her crepe blouse like she’s having a hot flash. “Where’d you get it from?”

A flush creeps up the low v-neck of the dress, Mackenzie’s hands fidgeting with the waist straps that hang untied at the sides. 

“So, you remember that patient? Yeah, so, turns out he’s a lawyer, and he wanted to meet for drinks to talk about what’s going on with Ari and I. He says he could help. I said that I didn’t have anything to wear and he said he’d send something by,” Mac winces, the pitch of her voice rising higher as she sees Amanda’s face fall flat in response. 

Amanda hangs up her headset quietly, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“I’m not a smart man, but I do know some Christian Grey bullshit when I see it,” Amanda starts, waiting for Mac to catch on. Mac looks at her quizzically, as if she didn’t get the reference. 

“Christian Grey? As in “50 Shades of Grey" based off the Twilight fanfic “Masters of The Universe” by Snowqueens Icedragon? Listen. Nobody just buys someone a dress for a client meeting. Or a pair of shoes, and- is that a necklace?” Amanda squints, distracted by the shiny thing. She leans over to look at the simple, dainty y-shaped silver and black crystal necklace that rests its tail between Mac’s cleavage. “Yeah, nobody does that. Where are you meeting him?”

“I haven’t googled the street address yet, but look at his handwriting. The calligraphy on it is perfect. Smell it,” Mackenzie instructs Amanda, watching as her boss warily pulls the elegantly written note from her fingers.

Amanda pulls down her surgical mask to waft the fragrance up to her. The cologne that scents the paper wafts up to her nostrils and she has to suppress a moan. It’s how she imagines a cup of earl grey tea would taste while she was being spanked with a leather riding crop. She returns it to Mac, leaning back in her hard-won Steelcase office chair, clicking her pen in her hands. 

“You’re in trouble with a capital T.  Mark my words, that dude is up to some shit,” Amanda warns as she tilts her head up at Mackenzie, continuing her analysis of the situation in her inner monologue. 

“You think I shouldn’t meet up with him,” Mac states flatly, hoping to further elicit Amanda’s thoughts on the matter. 

“On the contrary, my friend- I absolutely think you should go. Here, let me tie that for you,” Amanda offers, looping the waist ties through the buttons at the low neckline, making a pretty bow underneath Mac’s cleavage. Mackenzie smiles lamely as Amanda ties her up like a present to be unwrapped.

“Between us and the wallpaper, I think he’s yanking your chain about the whole legal help thing. But you know what? Fuck it. When was the last time you went out? Treat ‘yo self-” she trails off, suddenly distracted by the message that pops up on Teams. Her eyes flash and she bites her tongue, reaching for her headset. 

“I gotta take a triage call- have fun tonight, okay? Text me if the evil fairy prince tries to kidnap you, gangsta,” she gives Mac a sideways peace sign, shutting the door to her office after Mac exits. She messages the front desk back, letting them know she’s ready for the call to be transferred. 

“This is Nurse Amanda, how can I help you?” she asks professionally, knowing full well who it is and who he’s calling for. She calms the rage that bubbles deep within her, pressing the call record button on her computer screen.

“Amanda…hey. Is Kenz there?” Ari’s voice quivers and sniffles on the other end of the line. 

“She’s busy with a patient. Can I take a message for her?” Amanda’s lie is even and tempered while she’s imagining impaling his eyes on the letter opener she turns over in her hands. 

“She’s not answering my calls, or responding to my texts,” Ari sobs. Amanda feels her shoulders twitch and ache.

“Well, she’s at work, and lately middle management really be micro-managing with the phone policy. I don’t even have mine out at my desk unless it’s for work related purposes,” Amanda lies again. She peers down at her own phone that was open to Tumblr earlier, leaning out to look through the window in her office door, seeing the three MA’s that are still in clinic waiting for the clock to run out, all on their cell phones. 

“You don’t understand! Something really urgent’s come up. I need to talk to her,” Ari whines.

Amanda’s really glad Ari can’t see her right now, as she’s stabbing the daily planner calendar that rests on her desk in slow, controlled movements.

“I can take a message-” 

“You’re the one responsible for this, aren’t you?” A switch flips in Ari’s tone as the sobbing suddenly ceases, an edge creeping into his voice that sends chills up Amanda’s spine. 

“For what? The no cell phone policy? That’s all HR, my dude-” Amanda begins, only to be cut off by Ari once more.

“Fuck you, Amanda. I know you’re lying to me, you know what I’m talking about. You’re keeping her away from me. On purpose.” Ari snaps, his voice raising steadily. 

Amanda wants to clap back with something acerbic, deciding instead to let him show his whole ass on the recorded call for quality and training purposes.

“Heh. It’s funny. I know you’ve never liked me. You wish that I’d never met Mackenzie, that I would just disappear from her life. I know you’ve always had a crush on her, that you’ve always wanted her for yourself. You freak,” Ari’s voice is quiet but raw- intense. 

Amanda feels something snap in her at Ari’s suggestion that her relationship with Mackenzie is anything more than sisterly. “This conversation has officially gone beyond the bounds of what is appropriate, and I am going to end it. Goodnight Ari-”

Amanda pauses before she hangs up, immediately recognizing a tell-tale metallic click-clicking noise in the background.

She keeps Ari on the line, willing her hands to swiftly, furiously type a message to her triage nurse buddies at their much larger sister location up the hill at the hospital, asking them to call 911 for a welfare check.

Ari giggles in a queer, high-pitched tone through his resumed tears. “You want it to end? Well, here’s what you’ve been waiting for! I’m going to fucking end it all tonight, to say goodnight forever.”

“Ari, wait. Let’s not do anything…uhm,” Amanda bites down on her tongue as she tries not to finish that sentence with the word ‘hilarious’. “Let’s not do anything we’re going to regret. Hey. Are you at home? Mackenzie will want to know where you are, that you’re safe.”

Amanda receives a message back, asking where he’s located.

“I’m at home. And you’re damn right she will. She’ll never forgive you for what you’re going to make me do,” Ari snarls.

Amanda replies to the group chat with Ari’s name, the address of Mackenzie’s home she rents with Ari, and they give her a thumbs up to acknowledge they’ve seen it.

“Are you there? This is fucking useless-” Ari huffs impatiently as he ends the call. 

Amanda stares blankly at the screen, watching a message pop up saying that the police are on their way. 

She types up a thank you to her colleagues up the hill and hangs up her headset, leaning back to stare at the yellowing ceiling tiles above her.

Amanda’s definitely gotta need some dinner in her first before unpacking the necessary follow-through on that shitshow of a phone call. 

Downtown Seattle, Washington 

University Street and 5th Avenue

Thursday, August 21rst

5:30 PM

Mackenzie’s heels clack bravely against the pavement where Rion specified they meet. She’s out of her element here- in clothing she wouldn’t typically wear, in an area of downtown she doesn’t frequent.

Her heart pounds in her chest when she looks up and realizes exactly where she is.

Of course he’s staying at the fucking Fairmont.

A swell of confidence fills her as she recalls her time spent working at the local anime convention, running back and forth between her current location and the convention center. Yeah, she can do this. She might not actually belong here, but fake it till you make it right? All she needs to do is act like she’s on a mission to retrieve some fussy voice actor for a panel he’s about to be 20 minutes late for. 

She breaks character for a moment to check the specified location on the slip of paper. 

The Founder’s Club? That must be new…the last time she was here was more than 10 years ago. 

She walks up the familiar steps to the Georgian (now called the George), almost missing the opening leading to the dark and moody dimly lit room. She squares up her shoulders as she walks in with all the power and authority of glory days past to give her courage as she surveys the room.

Mackenzie meets Rion’s sultry gaze and her mask crumbles apart.

Her lips automatically tug up at the corners and her knees wobble as she makes her way to where he sits- a leather couch that he rests upon like a throne.

Rion’s body language isn’t the only thing about him that makes him look like every evil anime prince she’d lusted after.

He has the same Italian wool trousers and classic black leather shoes from earlier, but his shirt is different. It’s an obsidian silk that drapes open ever so slightly from where it’s half-buttoned, tempting a view at his perfect body underneath. An array of multi-colored rings, hoop earrings, and a simple necklace with findings that match Mackenzie’s adorns him.

She’s absolutely sure that some deity out there made this man specifically to ruin her.

For a moment, she sees a crack in the seductive airs he’s putting on for her. His smoky eyes sparkle and go wide as he takes the sight of her in. His mouth falls open slightly before he fixes his face, offers his hand up to her.

Mackenzie reaches out to him hesitantly, feeling the electricity crackle between them as their fingers touch. She feels as if she is glowing from the warmth of his impossibly soft lips against her knuckles.

“Mackenzie. You look exquisite, darling. Please, have a seat,” Rion drawls out his request, patting his thigh invitingly with a wicked smile.

Mackenzie freezes for a second. Is he inviting her to sit on his lap? Surely he isn’t. She decides then he absolutely must have been joking, extremely self conscious of the way she sits down as she cautiously lowers herself on the couch, leaving enough space for Jesus between them.

“Heyyyyyyy, so this is nice,” she observes nervously with her hands politely in her lap, her eyes everywhere except on Rion. 

Rion gives her an amused look, the playful bouncing of his foot reminding her of the swishing tail of a cat about to pounce.

“It’s suitable for our purposes. We have a reservation at the George at 7 PM. I do hope that you’re agreeable to dinner, the events of today have left me positively ravenous ,” he says with a bit of a growl, watching the ripple that travels through Mackenzie. 

Her mind goes blank. Wait. Did he just say what she thought he just said? 

“Are you sure about that? It’s good, but it’s expensive,” she warns, her memory taking her back in time to the early 10’s when she shamelessly ordered the butter poached lobster on the convention’s dime, a $50 entree back then. 

He simply smiles at her, leaving to order drinks.

Mackenzie turns her phone back on while she waits, making sure the ringer and the vibration is turned off. She taps on the green text box, her arms turning noodly when she sees most of the 50 new messages are from Ari. 

She stows her phone politely in the pocket of her dress when Rion returns and sits uncomfortably close to her, accepting the short glass with a diamond cut ice cube and orange swirl on top. She sniffs it- is that a manhattan made with Angel’s Envy? How did he know what to order?

“Let us toast to the grand adventure of life and the sweetness of new beginnings,” Rion declares with his glass aloft, Mackenzie awkwardly mimicking the gesture. Her stomach turns as his eyes soften at her and utters a cheers. 

Mackenzie does the same, finding his words both cringe and captivating at the same time.

“Well then! Let’s get down to business,” he says brightly, gesturing freely with his hands after he daintily sets his glass down. Mac bites her lips, preventing herself from singing ‘To defeat…the Huns’ to finish his sentence.

“Tell me everything darling, and spare no detail.”

Downtown Seattle, Washington 

The Fairmont Olympic Hotel

Thursday, August 21rst

6:45 PM

Rion groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, his very soul aching at the circumstances Mackenzie has found herself in.

“Right. So, if I am following correctly- you met your betrothed at a ‘Ren-Faire’? You took him in when he was unhoused and destitute, without a penny to his name. One thing led to another, and now you’ve found yourselves in unhappily wedded matrimony, mainly so that he has- ‘health insurance’?” Rion looks up to Mac quizzically. 

Mackenzie nods in confirmation. She’s struck by the way he says ‘health insurance’ like it’s a dirty word. Must be nice to have access to single payor healthcare across the pond. 

“And that job you have, that I still don’t quite understand what it is you do. You wanted the power to heal people at a capacity you are unable to do so currently, so you went back to school to be a nurse. When you finally got into the program, you were kicked out because you became severely ill halfway through, all from your husband’s inability to keep his cock in his trousers?” He straightens up and drums the leather of the couch’s arm in irritation, swirling his glass of wine before he takes a greedy sip. 

“That’s one way to put it. As far as I know there’s been at least 5 people I’ve caught him in the act or almost caught him in the act with, but my gut tells me there’s been more that I don’t know about,” Mac casts her eyes downwards, ashamed of how it all sounds… and they haven’t re-capped the worst of it yet.

Rion sets the glass down, turning his body inwards towards Mac, a spark of fury in his ruby eyes. “In addition to the infidelity, sometimes he’s physically violent. He terrifies you. Drives like a maniac while you’re with him, but never crashes the vehicle. Uses and destroys your possessions.”

“He harms you, but it never leaves a bruise,” he murmurs softly, placing his hand atop Mackenzie’s knee to soothe her.

“Speaking of consent. He takes what he wants from your body without it. You feel you still love him, but the thought of being…intimate, touched by him makes you ill,” Rion intones, briefly re-experiencing the unspoken horrors of his past before a sniffle beside him reminds him of his present company. 

A tear escapes from Mackenzie’s mottled face and she raises a hand to wipe it away.

Rion beats her to it.

“On the bright side, your social support is a small circle of loyal, trustworthy friends who would take a knife in the back for you. I find this favorable,” he tapers off, stopping before he reaches the ‘but’, pausing as the recollection of Mackenzie’s futile wishes come to mind. 

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ here, and it’s not the ones we’re sitting on,” Mackenzie jokes nervously in anticipation of this handsome stranger’s assessment. 

Rion snorts in response. He rests his nose over his fist, his expression neutral, exhaling while his keen eyes bore searing holes through Mackenzie’s soul. He sits up straight, having made up his mind what to say next.

“I could speak honeyed words of reassurance, craft a bit of hope for you to cling on to,” Rion murmurs as he raises his wine glass to his lips. “Or I could speak plainly. Tell you the truth.”

Mackenzie fidgets with the bow Amanda had tied for her, looking at the melting blob of ice in her empty cocktail glass. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier to me in the exam room since you left today,” Mac confesses, seeing the dark twinkle that appears in Rion’s eyes. “And I think…I think it’s time I faced the facts.”

“Very well, then. If you stay with him much longer, he’s going to kill you,” Rion informs her somberly, setting down the empty wine glass on the table in front of them. He reaches up to brush his knuckles against the moisture that runs down her cheek.

“I do fear for your safety, your situation is far more dire than I- nevermind that,” Rion interrupts himself with a shake of his head. “Do you have anywhere else to stay tonight?” 

Mackenzie ponders how best to tell him ‘maybe’, remembering how Ari is always critical of her roundabout anecdotes. She would vehemently but silently disagree with him. Details matter: her boss had offered her spare house key but Mac didn’t grab it before she left and doesn’t have the code to keep the building alarm from tripping if they go back to the clinic to retrieve it…

A smartly dressed, petite brunette that had been standing in front of them for the last few minutes patiently smiles down at them. “Excuse my interruption, Mr. Ancunìn. Did you have a reservation at the George at 7? I’m Chelsea, and I’m happy to get you seated. If you’ll follow me, please.” 

Mackenzie recognizes the classic Seattle way of saying they’re late (very polite and indirect, yet firm), standing up too fast to follow after her.

That was a mistake. Her exhaustion, excessive caffeine to keep herself awake throughout the day, and the alcohol have made her into an unsteady, dehydrated mess. She would have fallen face first into the wooden floors were it not for Rion’s uncannily strong arms to catch her. 

“Hold on to me, darling. I’ve got you,” He rumbles, his lips puffing cool, moist air across the hot shell of Mackenzie’s ear. Her breath hitches and she shivers, feeling her nipples pebble, suddenly sensitive as they rub underneath the silk of her dress. 

Oh no. Not the lobes, why did it have to be the lobes?  

His silken reassurance sends sparks out through the nerves of Mackenzie’s body. She links his arm with his and she feels her core spasm when he corrects her, firmly placing her hand to grip inside the crook of his elbow. Her eyes widen in horror when she feels a warmth starting to pool between her legs, feeling the glide of something slick as they walk side by side.

She inhales and exhales slowly, exerting what she feels like is the only control she has over her tipsy, lust-addled body. An empty, placid smile graces her lips as she cusses like a sailor at herself for reacting this way, how she thrums with need for him. 

Mac wishes she could tip her head back and ugly laugh in wonder at how life can be so cruel as they walk to their table. He pulls out her chair for her as they are seated and she thinks she’s going to start crying any moment now. She glances briefly at the menu, looking beyond him as she orders the most expensive thing on the menu at his insistence. He smiles at her dreamily, his beauty driving a wooden stake through her heart. It’s not like he’s the amalgamation of every 2D man she’s ever fantasized about, appearing in her life at the absolute worst time.

Mackenzie feels a tap on her shoulder, the server briefly trying to attract her attention. 

“Are you Kenz? Ari’s roommate?” the server asks excitedly. 

“That would be me,” Mac says with fake cheer, ignoring how Rion’s face falls in obvious disapproval at the word ‘roommate’. “Are you one of ‘The Mighty’?” 

The server nods enthusiastically, confirming herself as a fan of Ari’s streams. “Oh my god, how did you know? It’s so great to meet you- could I get a selfie?” the young woman asks, buzzing with excitement as she fumbles her phone in her hands. 

The corner of Mac’s face tugs up in a half-hearted smile, her palms sweating as she searches for the strength to refuse. “I appreciate you asking instead of just taking one. I’m so sorry, but is it okay if we don’t? I just…I don’t know if I feel comfortable being perceived like that right now.”

The server turns the camera app off with an embarrassed laugh. “Hey, it’s all good. I’m actually surprised to see you here with everything that’s happened today,” she says, her fingers tapping on her cell phone screen. 

“Why do you say that?” Mac asks innocently, her skin growing clammy, the air feeling suddenly too thick around her. 

“So you know the trend that’s going around on Tiktok where influencers call random numbers and threaten to unalive themselves?” the server asks, as if the words she’d spoken were extremely normal.

“Pardon, the who does the what on the what?” Rion tilts his head to the side, his brows furrowed in confusion as he tries to parse her words. 

“Yeah, so there’s a trend going around on Tiktok where people call random numbers and threaten to KMS. Here, it’s better if I show you-” the server says, coming up to Mac’s side with her phone in front of them. Rion leans over with a scowl and the server angles the video so he can see. 

Mackenzie watches a clip compilation of Ari fake-calling her clinic, speaking with Amanda around the exact time she had left the office, and a cut later to 3-4 police officers tackling him to the ground as he waves an empty airsoft pistol in the air.

The video ends with a thumbnail of Ari’s dumbstruck, open-mouthed shock in reaction to the police rushing into their house in the background of his stream.

“And see what’s in the background?” the server asks rewinding the video. She zooms in on Jas shrieking in fright as her Tiktok dance routine is interrupted by the shouting of the cops. 

“Oh wow, that’s…wow,” Mackenzie says robotically, her stomach dropping through the floor and her emotions with it. 

“Right?! Well, it’s very nice to meet you and your-” she pauses, allowing Rion the space to fill in the blank. 

“Date,” Rion bites out, displaying his unnervingly straight, pearly white teeth. The server ignores his reply and looks in back of her, mouthing a curse at something that’s caught her attention.

“I gotta go. But it’s been nice talking with you! My name’s Tess. I’m not your server for the evening, but I had to come and say hi and thought I’d get your order in while I did. Tell Ari I hope he’s staying mighty,” Tess requests as she power walks away, back to her section. 

Mackenzie smiles and nods, a deafening high pitched noise ringing in her ears as she stares blankly out into space. 

Ari called her work, talked to Amanda and threatened to commit suicide so people would like/comment/subscribe, and then was ‘shocked Pikachu face’ when Amanda did what she’s supposed to do by calling the cops. 

A hot flush that goes frigid and numbs her entire body settles over her. Ari’s going to find some way to pin it all on her, to make it all her fault, to take it out on her. Her insides that have frozen to ice tell her so. 

“Mackenzie? Darling? Are you quite alright?” Rion’s eyes narrow as he watches her face carefully, curiosity turning to recognition as the rise and fall of her chest begins to quicken, her eyelids squeezing tightly shut. 

“I’ll be okay, I just need a minute,” Mac whispers with a shuddering breath, her hands beginning to tremble. “I think I’m having a panic attack. It’s okay, it’ll pass. It always does.”

Rion’s jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring in anger as he forcibly exhales through them. 

Mackenzie is too far gone into her panic spiral to notice him rudely summon their section’s server back to their table with a loud snap that startles the other diners around them. Mackenzie can’t hear a word Rion says to their server, only that he discreetly slips a few green bills featuring the balding head of Benjamin Franklin into their pocket. 

Her body moves on its own as he assists her to stand with practiced courtly manners. She walks with him in a daze, barely noticing the arm curled around her waist, their fingers tightly intertwined as he guides her to the hotel elevators.

[weaselle]

okay i made a post recently that's consistently getting like a thousand notes a day or whatever, and as i've mentioned once or twice before i am pleasantly surprised to find that when i make a post that popular, the notes are, on average, WAY better than what one would reasonably expect the notes and comments to be out here in the wild wild web. I continue to be grateful.

However.

On this particular post i have seen many tags/comments/additions that agree with my post in a way that i feel icky about. So let me be clear about something.

The reason i stress "Legal Adult" in that post is because i am talking about body-altering surgery and comparing it to things that could be considered to be "life ruining" such as getting tattoo on your forehead or moving to Florida. Decisions adults make.

Now, my post is just as much about women being able to get their tubes tied or decide to have a hysterectomy without doctors and lawmakers etc assuming that a grown-ass woman doesn't know what she wants for herself

BUT

it is also about gender reassignment surgeries which is what these comments are focusing on. And this is where i want to be crystal clear

IT IS FINE TO LET YOUR CHILD DO GENDER TRANSITION THINGS.

In my post I'm talking about body-altering surgery as a decision that needs to be allowed for anyone who is also allowed to make any other adult choice. The crux of my post is that if a person is allowed to make decisions like getting a face tattoo or joining the military without seeing six psychologists or whatever then they should be able to make any other choice for themselves too.

But some people are agreeing pointedly with the Legal Adult portion of the argument in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable. Saying things like "... for legal adults but not for children... " in a certain kind of way that has a sort of libertarian anti-trans feel.

And a few people also sort of called me problematic for explicitly referring to adults on my post about adult decision making? So i just want to be super duper clear here

A child can want to express gender in a different way and should be allowed to do so. If they want to wear whatever clothes, and have whatever name, that's totally fine. If they want a medical treatment of some kind and it's overseen by a competent MD, that seems great too -- puberty blockers, or testosterone or estrogen treatments, or whatever, I FULLY SUPPORT THESE THINGS FOR PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT LEGAL ADULTS

okay? just so you know where i'm at.

[themarginalthinker]

Velleity

Star and Paul meet again after the pack has left Santa Carla. Some things change. Some things don't.

-

Technically set in Flight Feather's timeline, but a scene we don't see.

She wears a silver knife on her hip.

Pretty scars dot her arms, in patterns he recognizes from astrology books, and the night sky above them. Constellations carved into her skin. Her hair wild and dark like a bramble patch about her face, framing crystal-clear eyes that watch his every move.

"Harris."

He's leaning against a railing on a hill, overlooking the town, smoking. Just a cigarette, nothing laced with anything that would round out the world. Just something to keep his mouth busy.

Marko is off, doing what he came here to do. Seeing his human mother. Paul didn't want to follow.

It's only been three years since they'd seen her. It feels like a lifetime, somehow.

He takes the cig from his mouth, and smiles, just a little.

"Thompson," he replies.

Star comes closer, and he can tell she's changed. Even without seeing how she moves like she never has before, he can tell, that little unnamable sense in the back of his own supernatural head knowing he's in the presence of one of their own.

Her footsteps are nigh-silent even on the patchy gravel of the lookout ground. She isn't wearing shoes, he notes. Bare feet. On her legs, just under her long, flowing skirt where it billows up with every step, he can see more scars - different star patterns.

"You cut your hair," she says, dark eyes roaming over all of him.

Star comes close, and stops. For a long moment, they look at each other, and its impossible to tell what's passing between them.

Were it any other vampire, Paul might think she was sizing him up. Wondering what foul little magics he was keeping under wraps only to pull out if the physical fight went bad, or how to best ask for a roll in the bushes. In those ways, he was glad their kind desired very straightforward things like that. It was easy. Simple.

But he knows her - even now, with three years of time between them making a stranger from the mold of a friend, he still knows her in that regard.

Enough to know he doesn't know.

Star reaches out, and plucks the cigarette from his fingers. She lifts it to her own lips. He lets her.

"You grew yours out," he replies, looking over the dark mane, that indeed was even longer than he remembered, now to her mid-back. There were braids and little glinting chains with tiny shells braided into sections of it.

She smiles.

"You're back in town, I see," she says conversationally.

Paul shrugs. "Not for long. Marko's visiting and I'm just keepin' him company."

She raises an eyebrow over an eye sharper than he'd ever had the fortune to see it before.

"Family," he says by way of explanation. He doesn't elaborate.

She takes another drag, and doesn't mask her surprise, but also doesn't comment further.

She hands him back the cigarette. He tastes something other than smoke on it, and he gets the feeling that if Marko were breathing it in, with his bane, he'd get burned lips.

Paul breaks eye contact first. Hers like two pools of pure night, like a sky with no stars, like all the deep places of the world that either had never seen sunlight, or knew a sun from a time before the world was the world. Something making him bow his head under her stare. Something new.

Something powerful.

"So, the old witch made her self a new one, huh?" He says, only a little dryly.

Star crosses her arms, and Paul sees she's still got the habit when defensive. "The Widow saw fit to take me in as her progeny, yes."

"So what does that make you, then?"

When Star smiles this time, it's with teeth that are knife sharp and absolutely lovely.

"It means, Paul, that she likes peace and quiet. And so do I. Mind your manners."

Something passes between them, and now Paul can recognize it.

Star now had power, and this was no longer their territory...but hers.

"Well, I'll make sure to say grace before tucking in, then," he says sweetly, clasping his hands together in a mockery of the gesture.

The cigarette is burned out. He flicks the butt away, to meld into the rest of the litter and detritus filling the potholes in the old pavement.

"...How's the kid?" He asks, at length.

Star is quiet. For a long time, she's quiet. Her eyes drift from him, out past the guardrail to the rest of the world. Out here, you couldn't hear the ocean, too far into the land, but with their senses they could still smell it. Paul finds that he's not sure it's the comfort it once was.

Star's shoulders slump.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in a long time."

Paul watches her, her tight, unhappy expression.

"He's better off. I was always a terrible mother."

For just a moment, they're suddenly back in the cave. It's a bad night, when Star is having thoughts bleaker than grey clouds over choppy waters, no one wanting to come close, but he's at her side, trying to convince her that the stars are still shining out there if she'd just fly up to find them.

"You left him," Paul says, tonelessly.

Star glances at him, and then sets her arms over the railing. Looking out over the town.

"He's with my grandparents. Without me, there won't be any reason for screaming matches that he'll have to sit through, about things he doesn't understand and is too young to be hearing about."

"Without you, there won't be anyone," Paul says, before he can consider not doing so.

It seems he perhaps should have, in this case. Star's eyes turn to him again, now tight with anger.

"You don't know them. They're good people, better than me. He'll actually have a future with them!"

"Star, you're still his mother-"

"I didn't want to be!" she hisses, her eyes flashing in the light, hard and cold and aching.

Paul stands his ground against her. She glares at him, and then, all at once. She falters.

Her hand comes up to her face, a fist against her forehead. Like she can keep whatever is inside there, but it doesn't work. Paul knows her. It never did.

"I let him drown that night on the beach, Paul," Star says in barely a whisper. "I saw him in the water. I knew."

She brings her hand down, and looks at it. The fingers that are half-way to claws.

"And I didn't go get him."

There had always been...suspect. Paul had felt it, only distantly, only ever in the far back of Dwayne and David's minds, when Star had found them. When she'd seen what had become of her child. Paul never put much real thought behind such a notion.

But then, Paul never thought much.

Around them, the summer is just over its peak. Late August, before the days begin waning in a noticeable way. There's no one out this late at night - early in the morning. Even the town below is silent from here.

Paul thinks, that if this was a night for it, he could lay back as he does at the haven, and just spend the night watching the sky above turn on its axis.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls another cigarette. The flick of the lighter is like a gunshot in the night.

"You never claimed, for all your humanity, to be a good person."

"No...I didn't."

[ask-healthy-light]

*on one of the dimonds dogs maps a place called pirates bay was circled an a note was left in the dogs paw writings *

"Need tooth from beast -how get ? To dangerous? Cant find. Need help. Beware the beast of pirates bay."

As Luna pored over the note on the map, she looked at the little Pup, who turned away in shame over having stained the map with Its paw prints, but she just smiled and pet Its head, before she turned back to read the writings that were left; it was clear that the note was written a long time ago by the same Pony who owned the bag, as his hoofwriting was barely readable, and had nearly faded away.

Even though Luna recognised the name she saw on the map, she could only vaguely remember reading it in old story books as a Filly, but she would have never thought that it were a true place to visit; and she wondered whether this Beast mentioned in the note was why Boomlord went to the Dragon Lands to the East, for she could not find the Bay on any other map, nor could she find where the map fit.

With a defeated sigh, she carefully rolled up the map, and after she had placed everything that she figured she would not need back in the bag, she placed it on her back, and left the Upper Hall with the Pink Pup running after her; but when she made it to her room, before she entered, Luna realised it would be polite to tell Sunburst that she had taken the bag he brought up there to her own room.

After she placed the bag next to her bed, the little Pup laid down next to it, and fell asleep mere moments later, which made Luna smile, before she closed the door, and headed to the Lower Hall with the map in her hoof; but the aura of the pure crystal once again prevented her from flying, and she had to walk down the last couple of flights of stairs, which had started to frustrate her terribly.

Meanwhile, in the Lower Hall, just before Luna made it to the doors, Nox let go of Shining with her mind calmed and her heart eased, and they solemnly nodded to each other; but before the others left the Hall, Light politely asked Lord Shining for a moment, as they wanted to ask him a few questions in return, to which Shining, now wearing a pained expression on his face, merely nodded in silence.

But even though they had hoped and expected the others to leave the Hall, none did, and merely took their drinks as they sat down on the couch nearby, when Luna entered the Hall with the map still in her hoof; and after she trotted over to Sunburst, and told him she put the bag in her room, she put the map on the table, next to Light's sword, before she walked over to join her friends and Family.

As Luna put her wing over Nox's back, and pulled her closer, she smiled warmly to her Daughter, and asked the group if she had missed much, and why they were standing here instead of around the table or on the couch; but only her first question was answered when Shining sighed deeply, and said that Light wanted to ask him and Cadance a few questions, and that he had to admit something to Eclipse.

Silence fell among the group as Light and Nox, Eclipse and Spike, and Celestia and Luna all glanced between each other, before Spike slowly stepped forward, and quietly admitted that he had a feeling that he knew what they wanted to discuss; for when he was in the kitchen, helping Eclipse make tea, he blurted out what he remembered Shining and Cadance told him after they found him following them.

The string of events Spike spoke about only managed to confuse everyone else, including himself, so he worriedly asked the others if that made any sense, to which he only received confused glances in return, when Shining asked for a moment; and after struggling to find the right words, he asked the others if they knew, or wanted to know, why he and Cadance often avoided answering their questions.

When he realised the others all knew of some reason for his and Cadance's coldness, Shining let out a deep sigh and put his hoof to his face, before he admitted they did not know how to ask for help; but as Cadance and he were telling Spike about the grave danger outside of the Empire, something or someone else spoke through him, and told them they needed to ask friends both old and new for help.

Nobody uttered a word, as they all had to take time to understand this string of events, as well…

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

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Featuring: Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing Solar Eclipse and Twilight Sparkle as Twilight Eclipse from @asktwilighteclipse

[choccy-zefirka]

Laulu Casts Disguise Self

Just a small introduction to Laulu and the tiny bit of backstory she shares with Gale (neither of them has put the pieces together, though). Thank you @sky-scribbles for being so receptive to my DM screaming about them!

The crowd has been growing restless. Shuffling in place, shifting and shoving, smooshing their shoulders together, spitting out little barks at this or that hapless soul who happens to be too tall, or sport obstructing Tiefling horns or Dragonborn crest, or just wear an overly large hat.

But at long last, the glittering plumes of alchemical fog roll onto the little outdoor stage, and she steps forward. The petite wood elf, pretty as a painting, with soft, flowing pastel curls and huge eyes of different color, one green as an emerald, one warmly brown. Her curvy form is hugged by a shiny dress that fans out below her hips into a burst of bright yellow feathers. Perfectly fitting for the nickname that was given to her in Baldur's Gate, and then travelled ahead of her here, to Waterdeep, on the wings of awed whispers and shrill newsboy cries.

Oriole.

She carries her lute with her, and when she hoists it up, and prepares to pluck the strings, the crowd's cranky murmurs erupt into screams of excitement. A male half-Orc at the back even begins to sob, in a huge, booming voice that catches Lady Oriole's attention.

She looks up from the lute, and those onlookers who have wrestled their way closest to the stage can almost catch a glimpse of an odd shadow that flits across her face, marring her perfect, perfect features. But that passe, before they can even process what came over her.

She breathes in, and tries to stand taller — ah, so adorable, many in the front row think, for she is so sweet and small and non-threatening — and begins to sing.

She gives her all to the music, melting into it, lost in the enormity of what she has created. Amplified by the shape of the stage and some simple theatrical magic, her voice fills the square and warbles down the starburst of surrounding streets — like a clear, gentle, soothing stream. Here and there above the narrow, cobbled paths, the wooden shutters fly open, and entire families push against the much too small windows, almost falling out, entranced.

And high above their heads, hopping from chimney to chimney, gliding over the tiled roofs on speckled wings, dancing elegantly along the tightrope of clotheslines, a tressym makes her way closer and closer to the square.

In her little number-three-shaped mouth, there is a long shard of polished crystal. Stolen from one of the local wizards maybe? No; there is too much precise determination in her movements to be a fleeing thief. The tressym is not absconding with her burden; she is bringing it to the stage. Straight into the welcoming embrace of the music.

Even when the waves of Lady Oriole's voice wash all over her, she does not let herself get swept off by the rippling currents, not like all those swaying, clapping, ecstatic two-leggers. She is on a mission. And she is not satisfied until she pinpoints the perfect vantage point — on the shoulder of an imp gargoyle that is frozen, forever retching on rainwater, on one of the larger, more imposing buildings in the square.

Once she's found a foothold, the tressym leans forward, angling the crystal in her mouth so that whatever magic swirls inside of it, glowing like a swarm of trapped fireflies, can capture every note of the song. And the next song. And the one after that.

She stays well into the night, a winged silhouette against a skyline that's painted first soft pink, then blazing scarlet, then inky blue.

Only after the last encore fades, and the little bard raises her lute high above her head and cries out "I love you, Waterdeep!", and the crowd thunders something incoherent yet elated in response, and finally begins to disperse, splitting into little pockets of breathless post-concert banter — only then does the tressym spread her wings again.

A tiny shadow melting perfectly into the darkening streets — save for her pair of flashing eyes, and the pulsing glow of the crystal she carries — she zooms above the rooftops. Higher and higher, all the way to the elegant harborside tower that has also turned into a silhouette of pitch black, even though at this time of night, its windows should be brightly lit, and its top-floor balcony should be basking in a cozy amber glow. But instead, all is awash in icy murk, and the cushioned bench in the balcony's best spot stands empty, a long-abandoned book on its edge slowly turning warped and pockmarked with many nights' worth of sudden rain showers.

The door inside is shut tight, but not locked — hardly an obstacle for a cat with an ounce of brain matter. And the tressym do have more of that than most cats (if you ask them, at least).

With a little push, the little crystal-bearer slips into the tower. Here, the air is so heavy, so stale, that the nocturnal cold outside would now seem refreshing. The tressym sets her prize down, carefully tucking it under her soft paws, and wrinkles her nose.

"Once again," she meows into the dark, "I insist that we should keep at least some doors and windows open."

"I... I cannot do that, Tara," another voice responds, somewhere from the depths of the stagnant void. It is hoarse, like the labored scrape of some machine that has been left to gather rust for far too long.

"I would rather not take that risk."

Tara huffs to herself, her white-whiskered brows knotting into a frown and her tail trashing against the dusty floorboards. Then, she picks the crystal up again and flutters off to the source of the voice. The messy vortex of blankets right in the middle of the floor, at the foot of a massive bookcase — one of the many, many bookcases in the tower, which have gradually been turning into a silent, mournful forest of cobwebs.

Beside the blankets, a small bowl of cold soup has been left on the floor. Tara puts the crystal down again and sniffs carefully at the bowl's contents.

"You have barely eaten," she notes, tail trashing stronger now.

A stifled, colorless laugh escapes the blankets; and with it, a hand, just as colorless. It waggles an index finger at her.

"An attempt was made, was it not?"

Tara is not impressed.

"A very poor attempt."

 She bats at the crystal with her paw, pushing it closer to the blankets.

"Do you remember how you took your mother to see a bard in Baldur's Gate, and you were both so moved by her songs? She is touring Waterdeep now, and I have collected memories of her performance. Perhaps listening to her again might... enthuse you enough to at least leave your bed and take a stroll across the room?"

The blankets stir, and even more of their occupant emerges. A gaunt face, framed by disheveled hair and a beard that just barely remembers being well-groomed; and a torso, wrapped into a days-old bathrobe that, no matter how tightly the poor human tries to twist it around himself, barely covers the bruised circle on his chest. The mark left by the... entity that slithers, barely contained, underneath his sallow skin; brimming with malignant energy and so much more alive than the rest of him.

"Tara..." he whispers, reaching for the crystal with a stiff, fumbling hand. "This is too much to do for my sake, truly..."

The tressym protests — by half-swatting him across the nose, claws drawn in, pink toe beans barely touching skin.

"Nonsense, Gale. Now, listen to your music while I go and see if the enchantment on the broom still holds. This much dust can only be removed with magic."

She flies off, and Gale slips back into his makeshift nest, cradling the memory shard with a quiet reverence. His touch awakens the memories that Tara so painstakingly trapped within: the gentle cascade of Lady Oriole's songs.

He takes them all in with his eyes closed, his brows arched. Some of them are entirely new, perhaps composed specially for the Waterdeep tour; but some, he recognizes from that evening at the Elfsong with his mother. In a past life, buried deeper than he has burrowed into his blankets.

Barely conscious of what he's doing, he begins to hum along, a smile trying, again and again, and finally managing to perch on his lips. He throws his eyes open; though still tired, still bruised, they are alight with something a little more than just the reflection of the glowing memory shard — the only bright speck in his dark tower.

***

Alfira shifts to the side on her rock ledge, inviting her new adventurer friend to join her.

The young half-Orc's patchwork travel overcoat has been left out to dry among the refugees' modest laundry, still soaked from wading around the harpy nest. And now that she's left in nothing but a plain white undershirt and breeches to cover all the rolls of her large body, she instinctively shrinks into an awkward, tense lump, trying to make herself smaller. A motion that might have been rather adorable if made by someone not quite so... like her.

But Alfira's smile is open and friendly, even if shaky at first, wobbling through the wet pall of recent tears for her lost mentor. And the lute that she has handed over settles into the half-Orc's arms with a familiar ease. So she returns the smile, through fluffy strands of pastel hair, and takes up all of the space offered to her, ready to give her all to the music. To melt into it, leaving her physical form — too big, too much, too conspicuous — far behind.

When her and Alfira's voices take wing together, each stanza resounding stronger than the last, the half-Orc's traveling companions look on with various degrees of surprise, befuddlement, and curiosity.

They never knew she could play. They never knew her as anything but Laulu, a humble farm girl who went to the big, wondrous city of Baldur's Gate to find her fortune, with the blessings and tearful goodbyes of her doting Halfling father and no less doting Orc mother... Only to be plucked off the streets in a wisp of black smoke, and have an Ilithid parasite forced into one of her different-colored eyes.

It has been easy to take her for granted: a soft, unobtrusive presence around the campsite; ready to offer a helping hand yet never asking any questions about the many, many secrets of her fellow infected. Just as they never asked any questions about her, beyond what she’d volunteer about herself, blushing the color of swamp moss. Such a boring young thing, surely.

Yet now, when she sings, when she unleashes the melody like a tidal wave, to sweep down from the cliffside and through the Grove, it is like they are seeing her for the first time. Gale especially seems affected. His hand travels involuntarily to his chest, clawing at the folds of his robe; and his eyes study Laulu with an almost manic intent. It is hard to be certain, because she is singing in a duet with Alfira, but something about her voice is profoundly, poignantly familiar. And when, for a fleeting moment, she looks up from her lute strings and their gazes meet, his eyes are alight with something a little more than just the golden sunbeams that stream through the gaps between the druids' mossy standing stones.