#move aside I’ll design his outfits

[mootmuse]

shoves this message into a bottle and sends it back in time to every person in charge of every single one of jr ntr’s outfits in every dance he did in every one of the movies he filmed back when he was chubby:

your movie’s spent all this time building his character up to be so cool and so badass and so sexy and you change your mind at the last second? ‘they’ll only believe he’s sexy until they find out he’s chubby, got to hide it!’ no. incorrect. his outfits are being designed by cowards and fools. if his love interest gets to dance in cute little form fitting outfits so does he. stop putting him in potato sacks like we don’t want to see him. you tell me I should be into him and then you cockblock me like this

[megumimania]

saw this thread of people showing off their engagement rings and thought this is so s6-7!spencer x fiancée!reader coded.

“good morning, everybody!” you chirped, rolling in with pastries and some fresh coffee for the team.

your unusual enthusiasm on a monday morning was met with looks of suspicion from the team. the unexpected coffee run that you were known to hate did nothing but further their suspicions.

“so i’m guessing valentines went really well for you, huh?” derek teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you. the implication making your skin run hot.

“if i have to sit through another hr seminar on appropriate discussions in the workplace, it’s all your fault.” you swatted his shoulder playfully (purposefully), laughing as he jerked back and soothed his achy shoulder. “this is your first strike morgan.”

“ouch! did pretty boy get you brass knuckles for valentines or something?” he momentarily frowned rubbing his now sore arm. his eyes lit up as he realised the rock that was sitting on your finger.

“well i’ll be damned, that is a rock.” he whistled lowly, taking your hand as he moved it closer to the light, to inspect it even more closely. emily, jj and penelope walked over to you and derek, intrigued by the shiny new thing on your finger.

“what are you guys doing—ooh!” penelope marvelled at the ring much to a disgruntled derek, who couldn’t believe spencer was going to get married before he did.

“oh it’s even more gorgeous in person, damn those crappy pixels.” she grumbled, as she moved your hand so the diamonds would glitter under the desk lights. It was an intricate design that had your birthstone adorned on it.

the girls shared the same level of enthusiasm and excitement as you did. with jj and emily asking for a play by play of how the proposal went down, from the restaurant to the date and finally to when spencer finally proposed.

“it looks like spencer is quite the romantic.” emily commented, seemingly surprised and happy for you both.

love wasn’t something all agents could afford to have—especially in their line of work. so the fact the two of her favourite people were getting married in spite of the odds made her happy.

“okay proposal talk aside, who is gonna be the maid of honor? who’s gonna be your bridesmaids? are you planning to hyphenate or are you gonna take the plunge and go all the way?” penelope asked, already thinking about the logistics of it all that made you chuckle.

the thought of it all was overwhelming, all of the eventual planning and budgeting you were going to have to do was threatening to crash the excitement of your wedding. it was jj’s calming voice that calmed the barrage of thoughts that were running through your head.

“pen, she just said yes to the man like four days ago.”jj giggled at her friends eagerness. “i’m sure they’ll iron out the details later.” she replied, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder which you were thankful for.

in the midst of the congratulations you were receiving from your fellow colleagues and associates alongside the pre wedding buzz, everyone failed to noticed to spencer walk in.

it wasn’t until morgan caught the familiar mop of brown hair was when he called out to him. “hey, pretty boy! why didn’t you say that you and bau barbie over here got engaged?”

you rolled your eyes at his nickname for you. it was born from your affinity to wear an assortment of stylishly impractical outfits that always made it past fbi standards because you always somehow made it functional for use. like the time you chased an unsub down in a park wearing designer jeans.

spencer sheepishly rubbed his neck that flushed a shade of light pink as the attention was now on him. “i thought the picture on her instagram story was already a dead giveaway.” he shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets.

the post couldn’t have been more obvious if you had tried. the shot of you posed up on the couch with your hand resting on your head as if you were nursing a mean headache, with the ring almost demanding to be the centre of attention. you and spencer agreed it was a pretty funny take on the traditional engagement announcements.

“oh, so you were letting the ring do all the talking. smart.” morgan nudged you playfully, before he turned to join the others who were busy fawning over pictures of henry that jj was showing them all.

spencer thought this would be the right time to steal a quick kiss from you. he wasn’t a fan of pda and preferred his quite intimate moments with you away from prying eyes.

he barely managed to press a swift kiss before morgan teased him, “hey loverboy! you better save that for the wedding night.” he said a bit too loudly as half of the office turned to the source of the noise. if there was anything spencer hated being the topic of bureau gossip, but that was less than his hatred for meaningless small talk.

he sighed knowing that he’d be subjected to hearing ‘congratulations’ or knowing glances all day or maybe week—depending if anything else more interesting happened like the one time there was a interdepartmental affair between the cybercrime and the counterterrorism unit.

morgan chuckled watching spencer’s face flush a light pink in response to getting caught. yeah it looked like the prank war treaty and truce that garcia made them both sign and agree to in her signature glittery pen, after she accidentally got flour-bombed in the midst of their prank war was about to be over with.

you just hoped that you’d be kept out of the crossfire this time and that they’d manage to pack it in before your upcoming wedding.

[waitimcomingtoo]

He’ll Have To Get In Line

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta amps up the star crossed lovers act when Finnick takes a liking to you

Masterlist

As you waited to get into your chariot for your second tribute parade, you calmed your nerves by petting the horses. You kept your head down with a plan to stay away from the other tributes until you knew what you were dealing with. Your plan was tossed aside when one of the tributes, Finnick Odair, saw you by yourself and approached you. He was noisily munching on a sugar cube as he walked up to you, making you look up. You noticed his bare chest, and then perfect chiseled face before gulping.

“Sugar?” He asked you.

“What?” You asked, too distracted by his lack of apparel that you weren’t listening.

“Sugar cubes. They’re good.” He explained as he held up a sugar cube.

“No thank you. I think those are for the horses.”

“Eh, who cares. They get enough of them. And they’re not the ones headed into a death game, right?” He chuckled and popped another into his mouth. You weren’t expected him to make light of your situation since no one else ever really did so you faked a laugh along with him.

“That was a fake laugh. But I’ll forgive you since we’re friends now.” Finnick said as he popped another sugar cube into his mouth. You felt embarrassed that he caught on to your inauthenticity but he didn’t sound upset. He had a way of being very blunt in what he said but charismatic with how he said it.

“We’re friends? We don’t know anything about each other.” You pointed out.

“But we share two things in common. We won our games and we’re painfully good looking. Now, come on. Try a cube. They won’t have these in the area.” He said and held one out to you. You didn’t comment on him calling you good looking but took the cube from the palm of his hand with a coy smile.

“Taste it. It’s sweet.” He said with a debonair grin. You looked him in the eyes and bit into the cube, tasting a sweetness you had never known.

“You like it, don’t you?” He said and already knew your answer.

“I might.” You admitted as you popped the rest of the cube in your mouth.

“I knew you would. I saw you standing over here with the horses and said to myself, that girl likes it sweet. I just knew I had to offer you one.”

“Well, thank you. You were right.” You smiled and realized you had been smiling like a child the entire conversation so far. You quickly dropped your face and covered your mouth self consciously, but Finnick had already moved on.

“Oh my. Forgive me, I didn’t notice what you were wearing until now. Thats certainly a get up.” Finnick smirked as he looked you up and down.

“It’s for my district.” You said in embarrassment and covered yourself with your arms. The clothes Cinna had dressed you in were beautiful but far from something you’d pick for yourself.

“I know. I like it.” Finnick replied with a wink. You felt your breath hitch in your throat and the effortless charm he was just exuded and let your arms drop to your sides.

“Oh. Well, thank you. Cinna designed it.” You told him. The way Finnick was looking at you in the moment made you forget most things you knew, but nothing could make you forget to give credit to Cinna for his remarkable abilities.

“I should’ve known Cinna was behind this. He’s great. But it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. No one’s gonna be looking at your outfit.” Finnick shrugged and looked you up and down again.

“What makes you say that?” You frowned. Finnick smirked a little as he reached towards your face and tilted your chin up with his thumb. You sucked in a sharp breath and stayed perfectly still as he gazed into your eyes.

“That pretty face is gonna get all the attention. Who could look away?” Finnick asked.

“Pretty?” You asked in almost a whisper.

“Extremely. But I’m assuming there’s another name I can call you by. I’m Finnick. And you?”

“Y/n.”

“And so you are. Lovely name for a lovely girl.” Finnick said and shot you another wink.

You smiled at him and momentarily forgot all about the parade and your nerves. You were so focused on the handsome boy in front of you that you didn’t notice Peeta in the distance. He was staring daggers at Finnick and trying to figure out what would possibly warrant him needing to touch your face. When he saw you laugh at something Finnick had said in a louder laugh than he had ever heard from you, his jealousy got the better of him. He walked up to where you were and stood beside you.

“Oh, hi Peeta. This is Finnick.” You said and gestured to Finnick. Finnick gave Peeta a wink but it was different from the one he had given you. Peeta’s jaw clenched and he stood up a little straighter.

“The parade is gonna start soon. Shouldn’t you finish putting on your outfit?” Peeta asked Finnick.

“This is my outfit.” Finnick chuckled and gestured to his shirtless torso and skirt made of fishing net.

“Oh. Wow. It’s so….unique.” Peeta replied and made no effort to hide his sarcasm.

“I know. My stylist likes to play up the whole pretty boy Capital darling thing. He said wearing a shirt would dull my charm.” Finnick shrugged and flexed his arms a little. Peeta heard you gulp and felt white hot jealousy go through his veins.

“I think he’s right.” You said with a nervous laugh.

“Do you? So it’s working then? I’m charming you?” Finnick asked and took a step closer to you. Peeta couldn’t help but roll his eyes all the way to the ceiling.

“I don’t know if I’d call it charm. But you’re definitely evoking some emotion.” Peeta said with a tight smile. Finnicks eyes left yours for a second to clock Peeta. He looked him up and down and smirked a little.

“You know what I think? I think that you and I should train together. I’m sure we have a lot to teach each other.” Finnick said as he turned his attention back to you.

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” You shrugged.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you out there.” Finnick gave you one last wink before walking away. You immediately smiled and waved to him as he left.

“See you!” You called after him. Peeta stepped in front of you once Finnick was gone to bring your attention back to earth.

“He was so nice. He probably heard about me and wants to learn archery.” You said with a smile.

“Bullshit.” Peeta mumbled.

“Woah. You need to put a coin in the swear jar for that one.” You laughed in surprise and folded your arms.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” Peeta said genuinely. He felt bad for popping your bubble just to ease his own jealousy.

“Hey, I’m just kidding. It was entertaining to hear you swear. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I had it in me. I have a lot of things in me.” Peeta insisted and suddenly worried if you saw him as less of a man now that you’d met the muscular and valorous Finnick.

“Like what?” You chuckled and raised and eyebrow.

“Nothing. Never mind. What else did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I blacked out a little. But we talked about the horses. And sugar.”

“Really, that’s all? You guys were talking for a while.” Peeta frowned.

“Honestly, I didn’t do much talking. He came at me with so many compliments and I was stunned to silence.” You realized.

“Compliments? What did he say?” Peeta forced a laugh so he didn’t come off as jealous as he felt that another man was complimenting you. It wasn’t just that he complimented you, but that you clearly liked it.

“He said I was pretty.” You admitted with a shy smile on your face.

“That’s it?“ Peeta scoffed.

“Why? Do you think I’m not pretty?” You asked and touched your cheek insecurely.

“No! Of course I do.” Peeta quickly explained. “I think you’re so pretty. I just don’t touch your face to tell you that.”

“Yeah. I guess he was pretty friendly.” You agreed and kept your hand on your face as you replayed him touching your chin.

“If that’s your way of putting “handsy”, then yes. Very friendly.” Peeta mumbled.

“I don’t know why I even care what some boy thinks. I guess I’m just not used to the attention. I can’t even remember the last time someone told me I was pretty.” You admitted as you played with the frills on your outfit. Peeta felt bad for making little of what Finnick has said when it clearly meant something to you.

“Maybe people think it but just don’t tell you.” Peeta said in a soft voice.

“I doubt it.” You shrugged.

“Well, don’t. Because I happen to think that you’re-“

“Good luck out there, pretty girl.” Finnick called from his chariot across the room. You looked over at Finnick and waved to him.

“Thanks. You too.” You called after him.

“I’ll have my eye on you.” He winked at you as his horses pulled him out of the room. You didn’t know what to say to that so you have an half hearted thumbs up while Peeta rolled his eyes.

“So what do you think? Should we train with him?” You asked once he was gone.

“Absolutely not.” Peeta said immediately.

“Really? Why not? He was the youngest ever winner of the games. He’s gotta be good, right?”

“I’m sure he is. But he’s not someone we should keep around.” Peeta replied.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he asked me once if you and I were really in love or just putting on a show. And judging by his tone, I’m guessing he knows the answer.” Peeta whispered to you.

“He did?”

“Yeah. Right before telling me there isn’t gonna be any sugar or flour in the area so I’ll be out of luck.” Peeta grumbled, making you laugh. Peeta felt his jealousy return when he heard you laugh at Finnicks joke.

“Sorry. He was trying to be mean but that’s kinda funny.” You admitted.

“You think he’s funny?” Peeta asked quietly.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I only just met him.”

“Hm.” Peeta hummed and looked to the side.

“What?” You wondered.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking. You always have something to say. Until now, mysteriously. Is everything okay?” You asked him and touched his shoulder. Peeta looked at where your hand had been and sighed before looking in your eyes.

“He’s been talking about you a lot lately. Like, a lot a lot.” Peeta admitted.

“Really?” You asked and didn’t hide how intrigued you were.

“One of the other tributes told me brings you up every chance he gets ever since we won the last games. He even said…” Peeta began but then trailed off.

“He said what?” You urged and shook his arm.

“He said he’s gonna have a hard time killing someone so pretty.” Peeta admitted. Your curiosity about Finnick quickly turned into fear.

“Was he joking?” You asked quietly.

“I think so. But I don’t find it funny.”

“Neither do I.” You agreed. You finally stopped thinking about Finnick long enough to look at what Peeta was wearing for the tribute parade. His shirt was made of the same material as your corset and bared his arms. You had never seen his arms exposed like that and wanted him to know you liked it.

“I like what Cinna put you in.” You changed the subject and nodded towards his outfit.

“Thanks. It’s cool and all but definitely not something I’d chose for myself.” Peeta laughed softly as he climbed into the chariot.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’ve been waiting to show off these arms for a while.” You teased him. He held out his hand and helped you climb up into the chariot.

“You really do look beautiful tonight.” He told you.

“Thank you. But I don’t really feel like me. I feel like I’m wearing someone else’s clothes. And their face.” You admitted as you pressed your fingertips into your cheeks and felt the layers of makeup you had on.

“I know the feeling. But it’s just for tonight. You can be you again tomorrow.” Peeta assured you.

“So can you.” You told him with a soft smile. He held out his hand and you held it the way you did the first time you rode in the tribute parade.

“We can be us.” He said.

Following the parade, you dismounted your chariot and let Peeta pick you up to help you off the platform. Once your feet were in the ground, Finnick came running over to you and pulled you into an unexpected hug.

“There she is. Great job out there today.” He said once he pulled away. Peeta was once again staring daggers at him and took a step closer to your side.

“Thank you. But I didn’t really do much. I just kinda stood there.” You shrugged.

“That’s all you need to do. And I swear, you were the only one I had my eyes on.” Finnick said and touched your chin again. Peeta cleared his throat and wrapped a protective arm around your waist. Finnick noticed this and looked into Peeta’s eyes with a cocky smirk.

“So, what will you do with the rest of your evening now that the whole world wants to sleep with you?” Finnick asked you, making yours and Peeta’s eyes go wide.

“I don’t know about that.” You laughed nervously.

“Hm. Maybe just me then.” Finnick said with a causal shrug. Peeta clenched his jaw and stepped forward to let Finnick know he needed to back off. Finnick laughed and held up his hands in defense.

“Ah, I’m only kidding Peeta. I wouldn’t try to steal your girl right in front of you.” Finnick assured him.

“Oh. Good.” Peeta relaxed a little when he heard Finnick refer to you as “his” girl.

“I’d wait until your back is turned.” Finnick quickly followed up, making you laugh in surprise.

“Come on. I’m joking.” Finnick grinned and patted Peeta’s shoulder.

“Aren’t jokes supposed to be funny?” Peeta asked with a tight smile.

“Hey, I’m just messing with you guys. I’m like this with everyone. I just like to have a little fun so don’t take it out on me in the games, okay?” Finnick said and patted Peeta’s arm again, making Peeta yank it back and give him a look.

“I’ll let you guys go. We have a lot of training to do tomorrow so don’t keep her up all night, all right Peeta?” Finnick laughed as he walked away.

“No promises.” Peeta grumpily called after him. You stepped in front of Peeta and folded your arms once Finnick was gone.

“You’re gonna keep me up all night, huh?” You teased him.

“Shut up. He started it.” Peeta grumbled.

“And you certainly ended it. Come on. Let’s go to bed.” You said and started walking towards the sleeping facilities. Peeta followed you to the girls ward and lingered outside your door.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Peeta asked with a bit of a whine in his voice.

“You want to? I assumed your want the big fancy bed in your room all to yourself.”

“I just don’t want people to get suspicious if they see us sleeping in separate rooms. Since we’re madly in love and all that.” Peeta explained with a coy smile.

“Good point. Come in.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him and let him into your room. You slept on his chest like you usually did and he forgot all about Finnick.

In the morning, you and Peeta went downstairs join the rest of the tributes for a welcome breakfast. When you walked into the room together, Finnick was the first to greet you.

“Good morning, you two. I hope you got some sleep.” Finnick said with a suggestion wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Not much.” You said through a yawn. The other tributes at the table snickered and exchanged knowing looks with each other. You realized how that sounded and felt embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You whispered to Peeta.

“It’s okay. Roll with it. It helps our act.” He whispered back and gave your arm a squeeze.

“Here. I saved you a seat.” Finnick said and gestured to the two vacant seats beside him.

“Please, no. It’s too early for him.” Peeta leaned in to whine in your ear.

“We have to be polite. You’ll be okay.” You whispered back.

“Fine. But I’m not sitting next to him.”

“I’ll sit in the middle.” You assured him and took the seat right next to Finnick. Peeta watched the way you smiled at each other and realized he made the wrong move.

“How did you sleep?” You politely asked Finnick.

“Not great either so I got up early and went for a run around the garden.” Finnick told you.

“This place has a garden?”

“It does. Have you done any exploring of the facilities yet? I could give you a tour if you’d like. We can start in my room.” Finnick replied, making Peeta choke on the water he had sipped.

“She and I already looked around. We just didn’t find the garden.” Peeta cut in.

“Well the offer still stands. I could use the company.” Finnick said with a suave smile that made Peeta roll his eyes to the ceiling.

“I’ll think about it.” You answered to be polite. An awkward silence followed and you could sense that Peeta was upset. You picked a piece of bread from your plate and took a bite.

“What kind of bread is this? I’ve never seen this in 12.” You turned to ask Peeta. He stopped being grumpy and smiled at the question.

“It’s called challah. I’ve seen it in my recipe books but I never had the ingredients to make it.” He answered you.

“It’s good. It’s sweet.” You commented and took another bite.

“Here. Take mine.” Peeta said and put his bread on your plate. You smiled gratefully and moved the eggs from your plate onto his.

“I don’t like them anyway. And I know you do.” You explained.

“Thank you.” Peeta smiled at you.

“Gross.” Finnick snickered. “Get a room.”

“We will. But we need to eat first.” Peeta snapped, making you laugh in surprise.

“Good one.” You whispered to him. The rest of the meal went by without anymore comments from Finnick or Peeta.

Training began later that day. You and Peeta stayed close by each other and built up your weakest skills while keeping a close eye on the other tributes. Meanwhile, Finnick was having a gallant time showing off at the different training areas. He didn’t take anything to do with the games seriously anymore so he was just there to have fun. You and Peeta watched him hit targets with ease with his trident and bask in the applause. You then looked down at what you were doing, which was leaning how to paint your body to camouflage into the ground. Peeta was teaching you some simple painting techniques but you couldn’t help but get distracted by Finnick’s skills.

“Not for nothing, but should we consider being allies with Finnick?” You asked Peeta.

“I thought it was just gonna be me and you in there.” Peeta said without looking at you.

“Is that what you want?” You asked him.

“I want what you want.” He replied and looked into your eyes.

“I just wanted you. But if he asks us, it wouldn’t hurt to be his ally. He has been training for this his whole life. It would be better to have him on our side than hunting us.” You shrugged.

“That’s the thing. He doesn’t want me as an ally. He only wants you.” Peeta reminded you.

“Why just me? You’re stronger and can fight.”

“Because he’s in love with you.” Peeta said loud enough to draw the attention of several tributes, including Finnick. Peeta hung his head in disappointment as Finnick sauntered over to you.

“Uh oh. Talking about me, I hope.” Finnick said with a grin. “Come with me, Y/n. I want to show you how it tie a fisherman’s knot.”

“She already knows how to do that.” Peeta grumbled.

“Oh really? What about a sheep shank?” Finnick asked you.

“What’s that?” You asked.

“Follow me and I’ll show you.” Finnick offered and held out his hand. Peeta watched the way you took his hand to stand up and clenched his jaw. You started to follow Finnick until you heard a little groan from Peeta. You didn’t want to upset Peeta, but you did want to learn a new knot.

“Peeta should come too so that he can learn.” You stated.

“Peeta’s busy. Besides, I don’t think knots are really his thing. He’s more into arts and crafts, right Peeta?” Finnick asked and shot Peeta a wink. Peeta stayed silent as he glared at Finnick.

“I’ll be right back.” You told Peeta with an apologetic smile. Peeta tried to focus on his painting but could not stop looking up at you and Finnick. Finnick did the classic move of wrapping his arms around you to show you how to do something which made Peeta sick to his stomach.

“Wanna take me for a walk?” Finnick laughed as he wrapped a knot around his neck. You laughed as well and Peeta couldn’t take it anymore. That’s when he realized he didn’t have to take it. As far as everyone in the room was concerned, you and Peeta were supposedly in love. That meant he didn’t have to stand by and watch some guy flirt with his girl. Peeta marched up to you and spun you around by the waist before planting a kiss on your lips. You stumbled back in surprise before kissing him back. Finnick watched the kiss and chuckled softly, knowing exactly what Peeta was doing. You gave him a confused by pleased smile when he pulled away but he just kept his usual cheery smile on.

“Sorry. I just need to borrow my fiancé for a minute.” Peeta said to Finnick before pulling you aside.

“Go right ahead.” Finnick replied.

“What was that all about?” You whispered once you were out of earshot.

“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that I’m gonna check out the poisonous berry catalog in case you’re looking for me.” Peeta said innocently.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” You said and narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. Peeta pecked your lips again before going over to the catalog. You touched your buzzing lips before going back to Finnick.

“Well somebody’s jealous.” Finnick chuckled.

“Leave him alone. You’re antagonizing him.” You scolded playfully.

“I know. And it’s very fun.” Finnick insisted.

“Well knock it off. He’s a good guy.”

“I know he is. But I’m bored of the other tributes and you guys are fresh meat. Let me play a little, okay?”

“All right. But I think he’s playing too now.” You warned.

And that’s exactly what Peeta was doing. Now that he remembered his advantage over Finnick, he used it anytime he could. He started kissing you when entering or leaving any room and making sure it was always in Finnicks line of sight. His hands were often on your hips or arm when standing near each other and he always had a grip on your leg when sitting. Finnick would always chuckle and look away, knowing it mattered a lot more to Peeta than it did to him. Peeta’s need for your attention also increased and you found that he was always right by your side or lingering just around the corner. You didn’t mind since you were anxious about the upcoming games and having him around always calmed you. But you couldn’t help but be bothered by the way he checked to see if Finnick was watching each time he kissed or touched you.

You were talking to Finnick in the hallway one day when you felt two strong arms wrap around your shoulders. You knew it was Peeta without looking because of the amused look on Finnicks face.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Peeta said and pecked your lips.

“Hello Peeta.” Finnick said curtly.

“Hello Finnick. Were you unable to find your wardrobe? I could loan you some shirts, if you’d like.” Peeta offered when he noticed that once again, Finnicks chest was bare. You clocked the sarcasm underneath Peeta’s kind tone and turned your head to laugh.

“That’s okay. I prefer it this way. It lets me move my arms more freely.” Finnick said and flexed his arms to prove his point. Peeta saw your eyes go wide and clenched his jaw.

“You must be really strong, Finnick.” You noted as your eyes stayed glued to his arms.

“I do a lot of heavy lifting back home. Go on, feel them.” Finnick said as he stared right into Peeta’s eyes.

“Oh, uh…” You laughed nervously and gripped Finnicks bicep like he asked. You didn’t want to deny the offer and seem rude, and you seriously wanted to feel his muscles, so Peeta was gonna have to take one for the team.

“Wow.” You gasped. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“I bet you haven’t.” Finnick grinned and shot a smug look at Peeta. Peeta could do nothing but watch with jealousy brewing in his eyes, and that was all Finnick needed.

“Well, I should get some rest. We have another big day tomorrow. But I’ll be looking forward to when my eyes can see yours again.” Finnick said and nudged your cheek. You smiled timidly while Peeta rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

“See you around, Peet.” Finnicks chuckled and clapped Peeta on the back. Once you were alone, Peeta let out a sigh.

“Did you really have to touch his arm?” He whined.

“I guess not. But I wanted to. We are facing death right now and I’ll probably never get another chance to feel like a normal girl my age so I’m just trying to have some fun. You should try it sometime.” You said and came off just as annoyed as you felt. Peeta was surprised your tone and gulped.

“I can’t have fun when he’s lingering around you all the time like a hawk.” He mumbled.

“Who cares what he’s doing?” You groaned.

“I care.” Peeta snapped. You raised your eyebrows at him and he immediately felt bad.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.” Peeta apologized. “It’s just that guy. I can’t stand him. I thought he was trying to get into your head to psych you out before the games but he’s gotten into mine instead. He drives me crazy.”

“Oh, I get it. So that’s why you’ve been kissing me so much lately? You wanted to get back at Finnick?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I just wanted to remind him that you and I are a team. Not that he seems to care.” Peeta sighed.

“I care.” You said and put your hand on his shoulder. Peeta put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes apologetically.

“But I also don’t like you using me to get ahead in your little competition with Finnick. I’m not a trophy, you know. I’m a person.” You reminded him.

“You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry. I should’ve have rubbed our relationship in his face like that. Especially not without asking you first.”

“Thank you for apologizing. And it’s not that I didn’t like all the kissing. I just didn’t like that you were only doing it to bother Finnick.”

“I mean, that’s not the only reason I was kissing you. I happen to like kissing you. Annoying Finnick was just a pleasant side effect.” Peeta admitted as a blush covered his cheeks. You smiled at him admitting it and took a step closer to him.

“Well then it’s a good thing we’re on the same page, then.” You said as you toyed with the buttons on his shirt.

“We are?”

“We are. But no more fighting with Finnick. We really need him as an ally so you’ll have to learn to be civil.”

“If he can learn to keep his hands to himself then I can learn to be civil.” Peeta mumbled.

“Peeta.” You said warningly.

“Fine. Yes. You’re right. I can be civil.” Peeta said begrudgingly. You were pleased with his answer and kissed his cheek to thank him for listening. A rosy blush covered Peeta’s face and he smiled fondly at you.

“But I guess I can’t really blame him. Because I’ve had a hard time keeping my hands to myself around you too.” He said and took your chin between his fingers the way Finnick often did.

“That,” you smiled, “I’m okay with.”

Tag list

- [ ] @ilovetoomanymen @kittimbo @sipsthecoffee @ohmyhuenings

@ilykitwalker @mayemperess @scenesofobx

@imaegonstargaryenswife0 @basicb1tchboy @planetevermore @bellasfavbisexual

[how-serene]

Sugary Sweet

Pairing - Bernard The Elf x Neutral!Reader

Summary - During a long strenuous day at the workshop, you and Bernard manage to find a moment alone.

Word Count - 792

Warnings - no use of y/n, fluff, established relationship

A/N - never in my life did I think I would be writing for this guy, but I watched santa clause 2 recently and was whiplashed back to the past when little ole me used to have a huge crush on him. anyway, happy holidays!

You struggled to hide your sense of panic as you hurried down the hall. A flurry of working elves maneuvered around you, carrying boxes of varying sizes. They would briefly glance up and smile at you, their rosy cheeks dusted with glitter. Yet you continued to walk past them, ignoring their curious stares as a sense of urgency pushed you forward. 

How could you be so late? A week of stress and planning, only for you to become lost in your work again. You huffed, shaking your head as you approached the double doors leading to the dining hall. They loomed over you, with Intricate designs of snowflakes carved into its deep oak surface. You smoothed out the edges of your outfit, and opened the door, stepping inside the room. 

“You’re late,” a stern voice immediately said upon your entrance. Bernard stood before you, carrying a silver tray with two steaming mugs. Guilt crept up your belly as you felt your face burn from embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, softly closing the door behind you. “I got caught up in the gift wrapping department.” 

He shook his head. “No, no it’s fine. I barely made it here in time myself.” 

Bernard set the tray down on one of the nearby tables, and ushered you over. The sweet, sugary smell of hot cocoa wafted into your nose as you approached him. He reached for one of the mugs, and carefully handed it to you. You sat down, pressing your palms against the warm porcelain. Your feet throbbed from pacing around the workshop all day, rushing to fix problem after problem. To finally have a moment to sit still already had you itching to stand up again. 

“Seven days of trying to align our break schedules, and it almost falls apart,” you said, chuckling to yourself. You felt Bernard sit beside you, as his shoulder brushed against yours. 

“We still have ten minutes left until the staff return,” he mentioned, nudging your arm. 

You chuckled, staring down at your drink. “I guess that counts for something.” 

Bernard shifted beside you, pressing his thigh against yours as a means to be closer. The small gesture left a smile on your face, as you moved to nestle your head against his shoulder. He hummed in content, gently resting his cheek atop of your head. You two sat in silence for a moment, drinking in each other's company. You briefly closed your eyes, breathing in the sharp scent of peppermint coming from Bernard. 

“You smell like candy canes,” you commented, glancing up at him. He was already looking down at you, black curls framed his face. You reached up and brushed them aside, watching as warmth rose to his cheeks from the slight touch. 

“There was an accident in the kitchen earlier today, I’ll probably smell like mint for an entire week,” he grumbled. 

“Dare I ask what happened?” 

“Trust me, it’s better you don’t.” 

You nodded, and reached for his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. 

“Well,” you started, smiling up at him. “If it means anything, I happen to love peppermint.” 

He smirked and took a sip from his mug. 

You drew a deep breath, relishing in your lover's company. Although the ticking of the wall clock was beginning to chip away at your nerves. Time continued to move on, not caring much for anyone. 

“Time’s almost up,” you pouted, not wishing to move from your spot. 

“We’ll see each other later tonight,” Bernard assured, planting a tender kiss on your temple. 

You scoffed. “It’s One Week until Christmas, we’re at our busiest right now.” 

“It’ll be here before you even realize it.” 

You looked at him, studying his warm oak eyes as they reflected nothing but fondness and warmth. Slowly, as if not to startle the other, you two leaned towards each other. Bernard's nose bumped against yours, as your lips gently met. His lips tasted like sugar and all things sweet. You sighed against his mouth, maneuvering to pull him closer into your side. His warm palm slid up your neck to cradle your jaw, the tender movement causing your hands to shake. 

Suddenly, the sharp ring of a bell went off, signaling the elves return to the kitchen. You two broke apart, wide eyed as if you had been caught already. 

Bernard swallowed. “I guess it’s back to work.” 

With heavy hearts you cleaned up the area, washing the tray and decorated mugs. When you two walked out into the hallway, already heading in opposite directions, you glanced over your shoulder. Bernard smiled at you, and then rushed off down the hall. 

You giggled, feeling your heart swell as you turned around and walked towards the tinkering sounds of the workshop ahead.  

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey there, hi there, ho there! It’s your friendly neighborhood tailor! Pleasure to meet you Fellow! I’m quite the seamstress, and I always love to have people to practice styles on! I have, here with me, an entire wardrobe for you and your little brother there! I’ve got winter coats, summer shorts, formal wear for any kind of stuffy event, and a line of loungewear for any kind of casual affair! Hehehehehe. These are a little more experimental outfits, but a charismatic, distinguished gentleman such as yourself would be able to pull it off seamlessly, I’m sure. *Pushes the enormous mountain of clothing to Fellow to try on* Don’t worry about any cost, I just want you to be ready for any occasion. Everyone deserves to look and feel their best. Clothes make the man and all that. I…sincerely hope you and Gidel find something out there worth doing. Take these around for a spin and see how they work. I’ll make any adjustments necessary.

So tell me, do you wanna go?

The dressing room curtain wasn't red nor velvet, but pushing them aside felt like the opening night to a grand show anyway. Fellow and Gidel stepped out, dressed in brand new outfits--similar in construction to the originals, without the holes or the mismatched fabrics. They had been trying on various threads provided by the town's local tailor for the last few hours--and, at the end of the day, this was what felt most comfortable to the duo.

A full-length mirror had been propped up against the wall, allowing them to inspect their figures in full dress. Gidel twirled and twirled until he got dizzy and had to take a seat. Fellow adjusted his lapels many times over, admiring the look and feel of brand new fabrics and buttons.

"Hmph. Not bad. Not bad at all," he said to his smug reflection.

"You're both so handsome," the tailor gushed. "The clothes suit you well."

"You sure we can have all of this for free? No strings attached?" Fellow asked warily.

His eyes darted to wheeled rack that displayed many more items. He almost breathed a sigh of relief to see it still there. Not a figment of his imagination, not a reward to be yanked away at a moment's notice. Something tangible and real.

"Yes, really! I'd appreciate it if you took them off of my hands. They're some of the season's old fashions--they've been hard to move--and some experimental pieces I made in my off-time that don't have mass appeal. It'd be a waste to not let them be worn and shown off." They chuckled to themselves. "Besides, free advertising for the shop, am I right?"

His eyes lit up, mouth breaking out into a smile that showed all of his teeth. "Hot dog! Didja hear that, Giddie? We’re set!”

The two scrambled to gather their new things. Left uncollected for too long, and they feared the clothes would vanish.

The tailor peered into their changing stall and, upon spotting their old discarded outfits strewn on the floor, tutted. They bent, retrieving them.

“You forgot to pick up your…”

They stopped.

The dark green trousers they had picked up bore large diamond shapes along one pant leg, a design most unusual. Textiles with red, green, and golden patterns pilled in the diamond holes, sealed in place with neat, tight lines of stitching. Saddle, passing back and forth—the sign of hand, not machine, stitch.

There’s talent here, they realized. Untapped potential.

The tailor cleared their throat.

“Excuse me, but have you ever considered taking up the needle and thread for a career…? If so, I might just have the apprenticeship for you.”

[kylimarz]

Miraculous Ladybug College AU Pt 3

Adrien x FemReader x Luka

Part one Part Two

Hey guys, I'm glad you're sticking around. Here's part three! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in updates

With a gentle yawn, she slowly sits up, stretching as the soft glow of early morning filters through the curtains. The familiar scent of her home surrounds her, the weight of the blanket still draped over her shoulders grounding her for a moment. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she glances around, realizing she must have dozed off while they were watching the movie.

Reaching out instinctively to where Luka had been beside her, her fingers meet not warmth but paper. A note. She picks it up, smoothing the slightly crumpled edges as she reads the familiar handwriting:

"Hey, I hope you slept well. I made you breakfast. If you don’t feel up to going to class today, let me know and I’ll ditch with you."

At the end, where his name is signed, the "u" in Luka is replaced with a small, drawn heart.

A soft smile tugs at her lips as she sets the note down, her chest warming in a way that makes her feel guilty for how much she needs him right now. Pushing the thought away, she stands, stretching once more before making her way toward the kitchen.

The moment she steps in, the smell of something warm and familiar greets her, and her stomach rumbles in response. She opens the microwave and sees a neatly arranged plate of food, still warm. Groaning in appreciation at the scent, she carefully takes it out and walks over to the kitchen island, setting it down.

Just as she’s about to dig in, she pauses, a nagging thought surfacing. She should check the time.

Glancing back at the microwave, her eyes land on the glowing numbers: 7:00 AM.

A groan escapes her as reality settles back in. She needs to be in class by 9:30—sketches in hand—ready for critique and revisions before meeting with her new model.

Her chest tightens slightly at the thought.

This was supposed to be their project.

She and Marinette had spent countless hours designing these collections together, working late into the night, sketching side by side, fabrics and ideas intertwining like their friendship. Their goal had been to create something seamless, pieces that could be swapped between their collections and still look like they belonged together. They had been so excited, pouring every ounce of their creativity into it.

And now... she’d give anything for just one more sleepless night, one more frantic design session, one more moment of quiet laughter with her best friend.

A heavy sigh escapes her as she pushes those thoughts aside, making a mental list of everything she needs to do before leaving.

Finishing her food quickly, she sets the plate aside, stretching her arms above her head before making her way up to the loft where her design space waits. The morning light filters through the large windows, casting long shadows across the room, illuminating the organized chaos of sketches, fabric swatches, and unfinished designs scattered across the table.

She moves with purpose, flipping through the pages of her sketchbook and gathering the ones she needs for critique. But as her fingers brush against another pile, she hesitates. Marinette’s designs.

Her chest tightens, but she swallows it down. They had both poured their hearts into these collections, and Marinette deserved to have her work seen just as much as she did. Carefully, she gathers the sketches, sliding them into her leather binder alongside her own.

Her eyes scan the room, making sure she has everything she needs. Measuring tape? Check. Notebook? Check. Sketchbook and pencil case? Check. She tucks them neatly into a well-worn tote bag, adjusting its weight on her arm before heading back downstairs.

Setting everything on the table, she strides toward her bedroom, quickly rifling through her closet for something that balances professionalism and style. She settles on an outfit that gives off fashion school professional without trying too hard. Pulling her hair into a claw clip, she swipes on some mascara, the dark lashes framing her tired eyes.

She doesn’t let herself think too long.

With a deep breath, she grabs her things, slings her bag over her shoulder, binder tucked securely under her arm, and heads for the door.

The walk to school is routine, almost mindless. The city hums around her, a few supers dashing across rooftops toward unknown emergencies. The sight is nothing new, but after everything that’s happened, the weight of what it really means sits heavier in her chest. She might be in charge of everything now...

She clenches her jaw, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. She flexes her fingers, rolling her shoulders, trying to shake off the tension.

Focus. Just get through today. She chants over and over on her way to class.

Walking through the tall studio doors, she takes in the familiar space—the high ceilings, the scattered tables, the clusters of students chatting while flipping through sketchbooks. The air is filled with the low hum of conversation, the faint scent of coffee, ink, and fabric glue lingering from projects past.

She hesitates just inside the entrance. Nothing feels right. The energy in the room feels distant, like she’s watching from the outside. She clenches her jaw, deciding against forcing small talk. Instead, she quietly makes her way to the edge of the room, setting up her station with careful precision.

To kill time, she flips through her sketches again, running her fingers over the lines she’s memorized by heart. Her lungs expand with a slow inhale—just focus.

A loud male voice suddenly cuts through the chatter.

“Alright, class! Models will be coming in shortly, but first, I want you all to pin your favorite design up on the front wall.”

A wave of muttering spreads across the room as students start rifling through their portfolios. She hesitates, eyes scanning between her personal favorite and one she worked on with Marinette. Her fingers linger on the page, heart tightening, before she finally picks their shared illustration and strides up to pin it alongside the others.

Slowly, one by one, more sketches are tacked to the wall, students dispersing back to their stations.

The professor speaks again. “Now, the models will come in, look over the illustrations, and choose which one they’d like to wear. Once they decide, we’ll send them your way.”

A ripple of surprise moves through the room—low gasps, excited whispers. People settle into their seats, clutching coffee cups and energy drinks, waiting for the models to make their choices.

The vibration of her phone cuts through the background noise.

She pulls it from her pocket, the glow of the screen catching her eye. A text from Luka.

"Hey, I hope you're in class and not ditching without me 😉. Last night was nice. I missed you. Repeat tonight?"

A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she starts to type back. But then—

“Hey.”

A voice. A familiar voice. One that stops her mid-motion, fingers hovering above the screen.

She looks up.

Standing in front of her is Adrien Agreste. In the flesh.

And he looks just as exhausted as she feels.

“…Hey.” Her voice carries a questioning edge. “I thought you were a music major now?”

“I am,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But they needed models, and a friend asked me to help.”

His gaze flickers downward when he says friend. She doesn’t have to ask to know who he means.

Her stomach twists.

“Oh.” Her voice is flat. “I’m guessing you picked this sketch knowing it was hers?”

His brows furrow. “What? No, I just like your designs. I always have—you know that.”

His hand reaches out, resting lightly on her shoulder. A familiar gesture.

She knows he’s telling the truth. Deep down, she does. But the weight of everything makes it hard to think ahead.

She swallows hard, looking away.

Because right now, the present moment is all she can handle.

"Ok then, want to look over my sketches with me and pick five illustrations to pick and a couple extra's to be safe?"

She says this as deep down she feels the need to comfort this man who looks just as wrecked as she does over her best friend's death. She knows there's not much she can do, but at the moment, she can be a slight distraction.

Adrien nods, his expression softening slightly. "Yeah, I'd love to help."

Sliding over to share her stool, they sift through the illustrations together. She watches his fingers carefully flip through each page, his touch reverent, as if the sketches are something sacred. And in a way, they are. They're more than just designs—they’re remnants of long nights spent beside Marinette, bouncing ideas back and forth, tweaking silhouettes, perfecting fabric choices. She wonders if Adrien notices how carefully she’s trying to weave Marinette’s work into the final selections, keeping pieces of her alive in this collection.

They pass the time with light laughter, talking about old memories and catching up in ways they hadn’t in so long. The weight in her chest lightens, just a little.

By the time the professor finally makes his way over, they’ve narrowed it down—five looks for the runway, with a couple of backups for the editorial shoot. As the professor nods in approval and walks away, she and Adrien exchange a triumphant high-five, followed by an easy, reassuring hug.

“Hey…” Adrien starts, pulling back slightly, “wanna go get—”

A sudden crash shatters the moment.

The entire room falls silent, heads whipping toward the sound.

A voice—sharp, furious, and laced with an American accent—rings out.

"You're not hearing me!"

The girl’s words are venomous, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

"These are my designs. Mine. You do not get to dictate what I must change or alter!" She hurls her illustrations to the floor, pages scattering like fallen leaves. "I am paying to go to this school, I get to choose what I want to do!"

Then she’s gone, storming out of the room with enough force to leave a stunned silence in her wake.

But something else catches her attention—something flickering against the windows. A faint shimmer of purple and blue.

A chill runs down her spine.

Without a word, she’s on her feet, following after the girl, heart pounding as she watches for the telltale transformation.

She doesn’t have to wait long.

A loud, eerie cackle echoes through the hallway. The girl’s voice has shifted, deeper now, dripping with theatrical grandeur as she announces her new identity to the world.

“Call me Belle du Sud!”

And with that, a golden runway begins to unspool down the corridor, consuming everything in its path. Students caught in its wake morph instantly, their bodies adorned in extravagant, over-the-top couture—ruffles, lace, corsets, bustles, exaggerated sleeves. The hallway transforms into a surreal, living fashion show, bodies moving with unnatural poise as if being directed against their will.

Of course.

She groans, gripping her Miraculous. "Of course this is the kind of villain I have to deal with at an arts school."

There’s no time to waste.

"Alright, Tikki, let's go. Spots on!"

With a burst of red light, she’s airborne, yoyo in hand, swinging toward the golden trail spreading through the school.

"This would be a great time for Chat Noir to show up and handle this for me," she mutters into the comms, already bracing herself for the chaos ahead.

The golden runway snakes its way down the halls, consuming the floor beneath it. Each step Ladybug takes is careful, calculated—one wrong move, and she could be swept up in its influence just like the others.

Then, like clockwork, Chat Noir lands beside her in a crouch, his baton extended.

"Looks like the fashion police are out in full force," he murmurs, his usual playfulness absent.

She doesn't respond, but a quick glance between them is all they need to communicate. They're both thinking the same thing—neutralize the source, fast.

Belle du Sud stands at the center of it all, her gown dripping in gold fabric, the long train behind her flowing as if caught in a constant breeze. Her hands extend dramatically, and with a flick of her wrist, the students around her strut like mannequins in an endless catwalk.

"You!" she sneers, locking eyes with Ladybug. "You wouldn’t dare to challenge a true artist."

"That’s exactly what I’m here to do," Ladybug shoots back, tightening her grip on her yoyo.

Chat Noir doesn’t hesitate—he dashes forward, weaving through the moving crowd. Ladybug follows suit, their bodies moving in sync as if they’ve trained together for years. No wasted movements, no second-guessing.

Belle du Sud flicks her wrist again, and the students suddenly lunge for them, fabric swirling like living extensions of the villain herself.

Ladybug ducks as a sleeve nearly wraps around her throat, slicing through the air like a whip. Chat Noir leaps over a ruffled skirt that twists unnaturally toward him, his baton extending to vault him higher.

"Cataclysm!"

He doesn’t even need to say it. She already knew he was going to use it. As he lands, his claws graze the golden flooring, and instantly, it decays—the hypnotized models stumble as the pathway begins to crumble beneath them.

"Lucky Charm!"

A burst of red light, and a small pink and white object falls into her hands.

An eraser.

Her eyes dart around. The golden runway. The fluttering illustrations on the ground. The correction marks from the professor’s notes, still scribbled over the girl’s discarded designs.

Then she sees it. The scissors hanging from a student’s belt, glinting under the hallway lights.

She snatches them mid-motion, flipping through the sketches on the ground.

"What’s the matter?" Belle du Sud taunts, her voice laced with superiority. "Realizing you’re out of your depth?"

Ladybug doesn’t answer. She kneels, using the eraser to wipe away the harsh red ink slashing through the girl's designs—every correction, every mark of disapproval. Then, with quick, sure movements, she cuts and re-matches the pieces together, fitting them into something new—something that still holds the original essence but shows growth instead of rejection.

Belle du Sud hesitates.

Ladybug holds up the new design, her voice sharp but steady.

"You need to stop talking out of your ass and actually try harder. You're here to learn, not to throw a tantrum when someone pushes you to be better."

For a moment, there is silence.

Belle du Sud's hands tremble, her golden gown rippling unnaturally, caught between power and doubt. Ladybug watches the flickering glow around her, the wavering hold of the akuma’s influence.

"You don’t have to let this control you," Ladybug says, voice steady but firm. "We can fix this together. But you have to let go of whatever’s holding your anger."

The villain hesitates. The room, once thick with tension, holds still.

Then, slowly, her fingers lift toward the golden brooch at her throat—the item pulsing faintly with dark energy.

Ladybug watches her carefully, stepping closer. "Just hand it over. It doesn’t have to end like this."

Belle du Sud's fingers curl around the brooch, grip tightening. There's a flicker of hesitation, of something unresolved in her eyes.

Before she can second-guess, Chat Noir lunges.

In one swift, fluid motion, he snatches the brooch and crushes it in his fist. "Cataclysm."

A sharp snap—golden light shatters like glass, disintegrating into nothing.

The Akuma, freed, flutters upward. Ladybug barely wastes a breath before swinging her yoyo, catching the dark butterfly midair. "No more evil little guy."

A burst of red energy ripples through the hall. The golden runway dissolves, the students regain their senses, and Belle du Sud—no, just a girl now—falls to her knees, breathless.

Ladybug kneels beside her, setting the newly reassembled designs in front of her. "You’re not a failure. You just need to keep pushing. That’s what this place is for."

Tears slip down the girl's face, but she nods, hands gripping the papers tightly.

Ladybug exhales, standing. The moment the magic settles, she turns, finding Chat Noir watching her—not with amusement, not with his usual teasing grin, but with quiet understanding.

She steps closer and places a hand on his shoulder.

"We need to talk."

______________________________________________________________

Alrighty, guys, that's part three! Feel free to reach out if you think something could be added to the plot; I hope you enjoyed it!

Part one Part Two

Tag list:

@00hellohello00

@crystalrainforest

[loweffortopinions]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Play Time: 70 hours and going because I like to hurt myself?

Platform: EA Pro Play 

Rating: 4/10

(Moved this Review from my other account because I can't mix art and text)

Environments 

I had a few oh, that’s pretty moments, but overall I found it hard to feel immersed. The cities are nice I guess and detailed, but they lack distinct, memorable qualities. 

A city like Minrathous has the potential to be an exciting showcase of magic woven into everyday life. Mages using spells to transport goods or to perform mundane tasks. I was also looking forward to see a clear divide between magic users and non-magic users, as previous games have implied that Minrathous is Ferelden in reverse. Instead, NPCs feel static, and there is nothing new or interesting done with the magic. For a place built up as legendary in previous games... Minrathous just doesn't deliver. Further, you only get to explore one district, so there is no contrast between richer and poorer areas. And Treviso? It's pretty... but I mostly remember pointy roofs and ziplines.

Character Design

Faces and hair are a big step up from previous games, and armors are varied and nice to look at. But it comes at the cost that it feels overdone, leaning into flashy, cartoony territory. I ran around in my starting armor for half the game because nothing really fit my character.

The companions suffer from this too to some extent. Darin’s open-chested armor seems impractical for a warrior, Neve, supposedly from Docktown, looks more like an aristocrat from Orlais than her background suggests. Bellara’s design is fine, but aside from her vallaslin, she doesn’t seem particularly Dalish. Emmerich and Harding look fine, especially in their camp outfits, which I prefer for most characters.

Combat and Gameplay 

I’ll be honest—I eventually turned the difficulty down to story mode just to get through the game. The combat didn’t do it for me: repetitive enemy hordes that seem randomly placed, limited abilities, and dodging and rolling mechanics that don’t feel very engaging.

Aside from a few setpieces and two boss fights, no encounter stood out. It’s not a particularly hard game, it just got tedious after a few hours.

Another complaint is that every class now feels overly magical. Since the lore around magic is such a key part of the series, this really rubbed me the wrong way. 

Story and World-Building 

Starting with the biggest issue: Veilguard’s main story is a weak.

In Inquisition, even if Corypheus wasn’t the most compelling villain, there was still a sense of growth as you built up your organization and connected with companions. In Veilguard, it feels like they stripped away what worked in previous games and just kept Corypheus. And the worst part? I miss Corypheus. At least he had a booming voice and some interesting lines. Veilguard has none of that.

The villains in this… honestly, where to start? Rather than feeling meaningful, they’re just names repeated so often it feels like the game worries I’ll forget them. Villains aside events unfold without much connection, leaving me questioning why things happen the way they do.

Why are we choosing these allies?

Why am I stuck doing busy work for them while the world is supposedly ending?

But who cares! It's not like your allies really matter. Rook is a one-man army after all. If we’d had them instead of the Hero of Ferelden, the Blight would’ve ended in Ostagar—and every named NPC would’ve survived, including whoever slay the Archdemon. 

Character and Companion Dynamics 

While presented as experts, they rarely get the chance to demonstrate their skills. Harding sometimes provides useful contacts, and Emmerich occasionally shows his abilities, but beyond that, companions often feel like tropes with minimal growth or depth.

For instance, one character is the “unwilling father,” but we never see him grapple with it genuinely—he just says it. Others are similarly shallow: the socially awkward “nerd,” the “noir detective” with a heavy burden, and the “tortured assassin” who doesn’t seem all that tortured. Insights rarely go deeper than quirks, like loving coffee or fish, which get mentioned repeatedly without further development. 

Previous games built strong, opinionated characters who added depth to the world, but here, companions are lacking. Banter is shallow, with little conflict or chemistry. I’ve never played a Dragon Age game where I wanted to skip side quests or companion quests, yet here, I actually did.

I honestly prefer Andromedas cast over this on. Never thought I'd say that but here we are.

Main Character and Roleplaying

Rook’s voice actor; I love em'... which only makes the limited dialogue options more frustrating. I tried to play Rook as a practical, no-nonsense character, but the writing kept steering me back to a softer, more agreeable tone.

If you’re aiming for a tougher or more forceful personality, you're out of luck. If you plan to play be prepared for Rook to come across as a diplomat. Further, you are forced to agree with everyone, and never get to question them or their motives.

So... maybe don't get this if you're into Baldurs Gate 3 and player agency?

Ending Words 

If you’re like me, and the highlights of previous games have been the banter, character depth, and exploring the world and lore, you’ll likely be disappointed. Honestly, I’d even recommend skipping it. Then again, I've seen people say the opposite. So what do I know?

No matter what you do, I’d suggest waiting for a sale. It’s not worth the full price. 

Extra shit

Combat and Gameplay 

There’s the matter of the quest marker, which gives you tunnel vision which distract you from the enviorments.

The loot feels out of place due to its flashy animation. I started skipping loot in certain areas because it felt inappropriate and slowed down the pacing.

You'll fast travel a lot. And I don't mean in a big open area. It's more of a design flaw: Fast Travel to the Lighthouse to talk to a companion. Fast travel to a location to start that companion's quest, walk to said spot to start the quest. Repeat 5 times.

Story and World-Building 

The ending to its credit, was nicely paced and visually strong. If the rest of the game had been more like that, it would’ve been a decent experience. 

The Shadow Dragons, the Crows, the Wardens—all these factions make sense to be here but do nothing meaningful for the story or the worldbuilding.

Even dramatic scenes lack memorable moments. For example, there is a prison escape that's visually pretty but otherwise lacks substance. The person you rescue has supposedly been there a year, but nothing about their appearance or behavior reflects this. There’s no memorable dialogue, nothing deeper—it’s all surface-level.

I personally think Bioware are cowards for only letting you side with an anti-slave organisation. Come on: This isn't the Teviner you've built towards for 3 games! *shakes fist*

[crownedghostprince]

Two Queens on a Chessboard (Descendants) pt 1

Evie x Female!Reader.

Fandom: Descendants.

(Y/N) is the daughter of Snow White.  She’s been attending Auradon High for a little while now and Prince Ben, (the future King of Auradon) just declared he’ll be bringing over four VKs (Villain Kids) to help them choose their own destinies and not what their parents want for them.  (Y/N) loves all things girly, cute, pink and fun...but she didn’t know “all things girly” included liking girls themselves.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): None, this is just a cute, gay romantic and fluffy story.

Note: In this Evie is not at all related to Snow White or anything, as in this Timeline the Evil Queen did not marry Snow White’s father.  Instead, she attempted to date her father and when he died he left a will claiming her to be trustworthy of everything he possessed until his daughter (Snow White) was of age to inherit it all (18) and that’s how the story goes in this world. 

I hope that’s not confusing and enjoy!

Word Count: 2,700+ (roughly)

[First Person Perspective]

(This incredible picture of Evie belongs to ‘lilicohirukoma’  on Tumblr.  Check her out, she has some fun relogs and other posts!)

I carefully observed as birds glided effortlessly across the sky, flapping their wings against the warm sun.  The sunlight drifted through my open window, lighting up my sketchbooks and coloured pencils.  I did my best to keep the wind from blowing my reference pictures off my desk as I drew the parrots above to the best of my ability.  Their coloured feathers that lit up the world as they passed it by were my favourite thing about them.  I was supposed to be getting dressed for the day, or at least doing something more productive, but I felt too at peace to move.

It took my mother knocking at my door to get me away from my desk to let her in.  Her pale skin came into view as the door swung open.  I reluctantly met her brown eyes as she spoke, clearly upset, “(Y/N) you should be dressed already!  I don’t care for these Villain Kids, or whatever Prince Ben is planning with them, but I’ll be damned if I let you leave the house not looking like royalty.  I swear, sometimes you forget you’re my daughter.”  She scolded, entering my room and shutting the door behind us so she could dress me in the outfit I chose.  “Look at this!  It’s so pink the pink tax could charge you twice for it!”

“Very funny, mother.”  I rolled my eyes and started to undress, letting her pull the pink dress over my head as she continued to comment on it.  While we were both distracted a couple of the parrots from earlier flew to the windowsill and watched.

“There’s so many frills I can’t see the bloody hem!  Do you think they added enough sparkles?  I swear this dress has more sparkles than the Fairy Godmother’s magic spells.”

“I think it’s a charming dress.”

“Charming?  Charming would be blinded by this dress’ glow!”  She scoffed, continuing to do up the corset and back bow.  The dress I chose to meet the Villain Kids in was a cute 1950s, Rock ‘n’ Roll inspired dress with the skirt reaching my knees with lots of frills, a bow in the back and lots of sparkles.  The top part of the dress was shaped with a scoop neckline and a simpler design aside from the corset so the skirt could catch people’s eyes first.  The skirt was the main focus of the dress and the top simply blended quite nicely.

I had chosen matching pink high heels, my nails were done with an almond shape in a very light pink colour.  Imagine white but with a tinge of pink, that’s the colour.  I was in love with the outfit and I even did my hair in a cute 1950s curly side bun hairstyle with a cute pink bow in my hair.  Can you tell I love pink?  I chose silver jewelry to match, a simple necklace and bracelet and some studded earrings.

But back to the present moment, my mother had finished doing up my corset and my outfit was finished with the added jewelry that she helped me put on.  She looked me up and down and shook her head.  “How did we go from my blue and yellow to your blinding pink?”  She sighed, putting her hand to her cheek as she tilted her head.  She doesn’t like pink all that much, she says only Aurora and her child, Audrey, should dress in pink as it’s ‘their colours’.

“Mother, you know I’m not a big fan of yellow.  Besides, I do wear blue!  I was just in a pink mood today.”  I explained even though we’ve had this conversation many times.

“I know, darling.  I just sometimes wonder who you get your personality from.  You don’t really act like your father or I at all.”  She stated completely ignoring that fact that I do many things she did at 17 years of age.  I guess she just blocked out those memories like most parents.

“Well, sometimes a little sugar needs some spice.”  I simply replied by saying our phrase.  She was always considered the sweetest princess and queen, which she was, and when I grew up to be quite more lively and sassy I was nicknamed her ‘spice’.

“Well, Little Miss Spice better grab her purse and leave for school if she wants to meet those Villain Kids so badly.”  She smiled.  I returned her smile and we both turned to my desk where my pink purse was and we noticed our audience.  The two parrots from earlier were there, but a squirrel, a bluebird and a doe had joined the window, watching with interest.

Like my mother, I naturally attracted animals and got along wonderfully with them.  But sometimes it was a bit unnerving to realize you’re never truly alone when you live right near the forest.  Oh, right, we live on the edge of Auradon, just outside a magnificent forest filled with many creatures - magical and non-magical - in a cozy castle.  It was more a mansion styled as a castle, but the comment stands.

“I’ll, uhm, be on my way then.”  I cleared my throat and grabbed my purse, giving the animals all a pet before turning back to my mother.  She sighed and gave me a quick hug, being careful not to smudge my makeup and eyeliner.

“Just promise me you’ll be safe and you won’t get too close to any of those children.”  She looked at me sternly.  Although it would be more intimidating if she wasn’t slightly shorter than me.

“I promise, mother.”  I smiled and kissed her forehead before jogging out the door and waving, “Bye!!  I’ll see you tonight!”  I skipped down the halls and a couple of the house mice joined me before running from our cat, Sherlock.

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡   

Finally, I arrived via limo to Auradon High.  Kids my age had already started gathering and the band was practicing before the kids arrived.  I stepped out, “Thank-you, Mister Desmond!”

“Have a lovely day at school, Miss White.”  He waved with his soft smile.

“I will!  Goodbye!”  I closed the door and skipped up to my two best friends: Jane and Elin.  Jane was the daughter of the Fairy Godmother and Elin was the daughter of Elsa.  Elin has ice powers like her mother, except her powers are smaller in scale and easier for her to control.  Well that’s what she told me, but I’ll never know for sure.  “Hey, Elin!  Hey, Jane!”  I called, finally skipping up to them.

“Hey, (Y/N)!”  They both greeted - Jane a little more nervous than Elin.

“Are you excited to meet the VKs?”  Elin asked excitedly.  Her soft blue eyes lit up as she smiled and finished braiding her white hair.  It was pretty long so it took her some time but it was always so worth it.  She was almost as good as Rapunzel’s daughter when it came to braiding hair.

“I’m really excited to meet them! I really hope they don’t cause us any trouble...I feel like they’ll be really cool to befriend!”  I answered, bouncing up and down a little.

“I’m not thrilled.  I hope they leave as quickly as they come.”  Jane gulped, nervously picking at her fingernails - an anxious habit she’d had for a while now.  I took her hands and squeezed them slightly.

“Don’t worry I’m sure they won’t bother us much.  They’ll probably think we’re all too prissy and princess-y to be worth bothering.”  I reassured her.  She smiled slightly but still looked worried.

“I’m more concerned about my mother forcing me to meet them and be near them more than I would like...”  She whispered uncertainly.  We both looked over at her mother who stood beside Prince Ben and his girlfriend Audrey at the front of the gathering, just in front of the band.  My mouth formed an ‘O’ shape as I realized what she meant.

Her mother was always so extroverted and confident and Jane was the total opposite, being more on the shy and reserved side.  “I’m sure she’ll take it easy on you, vennen.”  (Darling)  Elin reassured her in her thick Norwegian accent, placing her hands on Jane’s shoulders and giving her a little playful shake which elicited a little giggle from Jane.  “Besides, if you stick with us, we’ll protect you from them!”  Elin grinned and gave the air a couple fake punches to prove her point.

“Yeah!  And I’ll wear so much pink it would make any Villain gag from 30 meters away!”  I laughed and Jane cracked a smile.  Before any of us could joke around any more a hush fell over the group as Fairy Godmother clapped her hands three times like a primary school teacher and then shouted orders.

“Everyone hush!!  Listening ears and smiling faces on!  They’re coming down now!  Look bright and lively everybody!  Here we go!!”  She cheered and we all did our best to match her over bubbly personality.  Jane passed Elin and I some small flags made for occasions like this.  We excitedly waved them in the air as everyone cheered and the band started up once again.  It wasn’t the best welcome song, but it was pretty impressive considering they’d only had a week until now to practice.

The limo pulled up and the chauffeur opened the door.  We watched two boys tumble out, hushing us all with their arguing and battle for some piece of cloth.  Eventually a purple-haired woman stepped out and then followed a gorgeous blue-haired woman.  Her outfit, her hair, her smile - she was absolutely adorable.  I couldn’t stop staring and Elin had to physically close my dropped jaw with her hand.

Elin chuckled and gave me a discreet thumbs up, having hinted at me being bisexual in the past.  But...I always denied it.  I blushed and avoided eye-contact, my eyes slowly drifting back to the gorgeous girl rocking a stunning blue outfit and looking like she was a princess straight out of a fairy tale book.  I was especially in awe of her style.  She clearly had a good sense of fashion and she held her head high with confidence as she walked.

Her dress was a strange, but gorgeous, mix of leather with a blue jeans-inspired design and something similar to what the ‘Evil Queen’ from my mother’s past would wear.  She had a cute headband that matched and her whole outfit looked handmade, down to every seam.  She wore a contrasting red apple necklace; black, finger-less gloves and matching black and white tights.  Finally, I noticed how her hair was slightly curled, a bit like mine currently was, but her hair was fully let down and swayed in the gentle breeze.  She seemed ecstatic to be here and looked at everything like a small child seeing their biggest wish come true.

Elin snapped me out of my daze once again and we all watched as Fairy Godmother greeted them with her usual happy-go-lucky, primary school teacher attitude and then she introduced Prince Ben and Princess Audrey.  Prince Ben made sure to greet them all individually by shaking their hands and welcoming them, pausing a bit on the purple-haired woman and then continuing on afterwards.  I couldn’t see Audrey’s face but ever since her betrothal to Prince Ben I assumed she was pissed he wasn’t giving her all his attention.

Although that sounds ridiculous, I know Audrey very well.  She’s a very arrogant, ignorant woman who loves power and fame and money.  She cares little for other people, especially those actually in need of aid.  I remember watching once as she offered no food to a begging woman.  I made sure to buy some extra bread and cheese for the lady.  It wasn’t much, but she was thankful and that made me smile.  But for Audrey to pass her by without even acknowledging her?  Horrible.

We watched as Fairy Godmother wrapped it up and finished talking with everyone.  Prince Ben and Princess Audrey began leading them to the school, giving them a bit of a tour and talking about the history whilst everyone else in the area scattered and cleaned up any confetti.  I caught eyes with the beautiful blue-haired woman and we both paused for a second.  Even from a distance I could tell she was the daughter of The Evil Queen and she could probably tell I was Snow White’s daughter.  I felt my cheeks heat up and all I could do was smile, curtsy and wink and then quickly catch up with my friends.

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡  

“Pleaseee that was so embarrassingggg!!!”  I whined into Elin’s pillow.  Elin laughed in amusement from her office chair.  Elin was staying in a dorm room with Jane at the school as she travelled very far to attend and Jane stayed in the dorm room because she hated travelling such a long distance to school every day.

“I’m sure she found it cute, vennen min.”  (My friend) Elin shook her head as she spoke.  I looked up from the pillow more and stared pointedly.

“I assure you she probably did not, liebling.”  (Darling)  I tossed the pillow back onto her bed before standing up from the floor.  I brushed my clothing off and checked how I looked in Jane’s vanity mirror.

“How do you know?  You don’t!  In fact...there’s only one way of truly knowing.”  Elin grinned.  I watched her from the mirror as I fixed up my makeup before deciding to ask the dreaded question.

“And...how would I go about finding that out?”  I turned around and Elin stood up excitedly.

“At school tomorrow,” She grabbed my shoulders, “Introduce yourself and get to know her.”

“I--...I mean you’re not wrong, but...how would I even go about approaching her?”

“Well if you see you share a class, greet her then!  Maybe when you’re both leaving and also see what other classes you share!”

“Elin, mausebär.  (Mouse)  That’s incredible thinking!  You’re absolutely right!  I can just meet her at classes and then move from there!”  Elin and I giddily did a little dance on the spot.

“That’s the spirit!!  Overcome your fears!”  She cheered, her soft blue eyes sparkling with delight.  She began tossing little snowflakes above us like confetti.  “Jippi!”  (Yay)  She cheered.

We spent the rest of our time together with Jane, enjoying our lunches, joking and dancing around and doing each others hair whilst watching some movies like ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ and ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’.  We had a lot of fun like we originally planned.  This day spent together and movie night is how we usually spend our last day before school.  My mother’s fine with me staying out until midnight, so I was able to do that again.

I tiredly said my goodbyes to Elin and Jane, hugging them both before I followed Fairy Godmother to the front door of the school.  We talked quietly, careful of the sleeping students.  “I’m glad you and Elin are friends with Jane.”  She smiled softly, looking up at the moon as we waited for Mister Desmond to arrive.  “She’s so shy and closed off.  I still remember the day she came home from middle school, ecstatic and talking fast.  She was so happy to have friends she didn’t say a single word correctly.”

I grinned, remembering how I first met Jane by walking into a wall right in front of her and balling my eyes out immediately at the slightest drop of blood that was created by the impact.  She’d always been such a kind person.  She leapt straight into making sure I was okay, screaming for Elin to help us both when poor Elin herself was lost.  Luckily our gym teacher was nearby and helped us get to the nurse’s office where we all sat crying and apologizing.

It was a silly way to meet, but I wouldn’t change it for anything else in the world.  I was so distracted talking to Fairy Godmother and thinking back on my childhood days with Elin and Jane, I completed missed the four students hiding in a bush just outside the school - waiting for us to leave so they could sneak back inside.  When I finally spoke up to Fairy Godmother about how we met, as Jane never coherently told her mother, I also missed Evie’s soft smile as she pictured the scenario I was describing.

It was a perfect night and a perfect start to a new school year...and a future relationship.

♡ ~~~~~~ ♡

(Part 2 coming soon!)

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

Zip Me for GerryMichael? (https://www.tumblr.com/blasphemous-lies-and-deceit/764430330394509312/drabbles-send-me-characters-and-a-prompt)

Leave a “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character dressing another, or the other way around [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify.]

"Hey!" Gerry burst out as he burst into their flat, shaking off the chill and the snowflakes that had settled in his hair. He immediately focused on Michael where he was lounging on the couch, looking incredibly cute and cozy. "I got you something!"

Michael looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow at him. "Is it the groceries?" he asked, a charmed smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. Gerry grinned back and held up his arms, the reusable grocery bags dangling from his hands.

"It is, but I also found something else." He turned his hand to reveal a large paper bag with a festive design on it. "Something for the both of us."

"Ooh." That really caught Michael's attention. He set his book aside and rose to join Gerry, taking the paper bag from his hand and peeking inside. "What's- Oh!"

That was not an unexpected reaction. Gerry knew he was hardly the kind of person who ever got into the Christmas spirit, much less one who went out and got matching Christmas pajamas. But he had, and it was absolutely worth it to see Michael's expression as he pulled out the packages, eyebrows so high they were nearly lost in his fringe.

"Wh-" Michael's question was lost in his giggles as he looked over the brightly colored fabric, stumbling to brace against the table as he let them out. "They're so cute!" he said gleefully, examining the patterned design of gingerbread men and peppermints. "Gerry, they're so cute! Thank you!"

"I knew you'd like them," Gerry replied, his own grin straining his face. He was so glad he'd indulged and bought the pair, because Michael's reaction was like a warm cup of cocoa on the coldest day- sweet and warming and welcome. "I hope they fit us."

"Only one way to find out," Michael declared, immediately shedding his shirt and sweatpants right then and there. Gerry tore the first set of pajamas out of its package, handing them over to Michael and getting started on the other pair. He watched intently as Michael stepped into the legs of the outfit and pulled it up, wiggling his way into the rest of it before looking down at his feet, dismayed.

"One size fits all, my ass," he complained, flipping his hair out of the neckline and tugging in vain at the cuffs, which were much higher on his arms than they should be. So were the bottoms, riding half up his calves as Michael fumbled with the zip, grunting in frustration as it got stuck. "Help?"

Gerry laughed, stepping up to help. "Sorry, love, they obviously didn't take your generous limb length into account," he teased, earning himself a scrunched nose from Michael. He finished up the zip and stepped back to take Michael in, his heart growing five sizes at the sight. "You're adorable."

"Thank you, love," Michael preened, spinning around to give him the full view. Gerry only had a second to appreciate how it fit over his backside before Michael spun back to the front, a mischievous look on his face. "Your turn."

"Yeah, yeah," Gerry conceded, shaking out his pair and eying them critically. It was an exact match of Michael's, which of course wasn't the slightest bit his style, but since Michael would be the only one seeing him in it, he didn't care. Gerry quickly stripped and shimmied into his pajamas, hopping a bit to pull them up past his hips. Michael was watching just as intently as he'd watched him, he noted with amusement. The bottoms fit him pretty well, but Gerry ran into trouble when he got his arms into the sleeves and tried to move them. The sharp tightness across his shoulders made him stop. "Uh oh."

"Too tight?" Michael guessed, his hand sneaking out to fiddle with the zipper, only able to pull it up to Gerry's ribcage before he had to stop. "That's certainly...a fit," he giggled, eyes bright as they trailed over Gerry's body, lingering where the fabric was stretched tight over his shoulders and biceps.

"I'm glad you're enjoying this," Gerry said, turning in a circle to show off the whole look. He heard Michael make an appreciative noise as he did, and when he was facing him again, Michael immediately inserted himself into his space, arms settling around his waist.

"You're so lovely," Michael cooed, dropping kisses onto his forehead and cheeks. "Thank you so much for this." He squeezed Gerry close, letting out a noise of delight that ruffled through Gerry's hair. "I hope you're willing to be more...festive, like this," Michael confessed in a low tone, the wanting plain and obvious in his voice. "It can just be for fun, we don't have to go overboard, or do anything you don't want to, but I want to have traditions like this with you. I want to have so many good things with you this season."

"I do too," Gerry whispered, feeling himself drawn in towards Michael's warmth and sincerity. "I want you to share all of your favorite things with me. Before I knew you, this time of year..." he trailed off, shaking his head. It hadn't been a holiday to him before, just a day that all the shops were all closed. "It meant nothing to me. But it means more to you. And you...you mean the most to me. So I want to be part of it with you."

"You will," Michael promised, pressing their foreheads together. "We'll come up with our own traditions together." He pulled back just enough to kiss Gerry, as sweet as a candy cane. "Now," he said firmly, eyes glittering. "I think we should get started by turning on the telly to one of those 24-hour fireplaces, and making out on the couch in our matching pajamas."

Gerry burst out laughing, hopelessly enchanted by the suggestion. "That sounds perfect," he agreed happily, pressing forward to wrap Michael in a hug. The pajamas were warm and soft against his skin, and Michael was warm and soft in his embrace, and he loved both so impossibly much.

[itsthestutterforme]

Hey Rebel 1/2 (Alpha!Ari Levinson x omega!reader)

Summary: Ari tags along on one of your missions, nearly jeopardizing it when he catches a whiff of your intoxicating scent.

Notes: GIF is not mine, this is not a beta’d read, A/B/O dynamics, reader is Afro!Latina and a CIA agent, reader is very bratty in this series

**

“I see the target,” you said through comms. The loud bass from the music reverberated in your ribs as you push passed a few people in the club.

The club was a lot more busy than you anticipated which made your mission quite easy for you.

You preferred to work alone on missions but with this particular target was violent and the two of you had history.

He killed your partner and made you watch. He kept you alive to continue the torment of know that your mistake had your partner killed.

Though he wasn’t just your partner, he was boyfriend at the time. His scent was everywhere in your apartment, and when it slowly started to disintegrate in spaces he would hang out the most, you wanted to tear your heart out.

When his clothes stopped smelling him and started smelling like you, you had nothing left of him but memories.

He wasn’t your mate necessarily, but you he made you feel safer than any of your previous boyfriends had.

His death put you in second gear on your missions. Your accuracy increased by 23% and you spent every waking minute in the gun range or in the gym. You were a forced to be reckoned with and quickly became Ethan’s favorite agent.

And Ethan couldn’t have his favorite girl off on a potential murder mission without backup.

So he sent in a newer agent with a promising record in shooting accuracy for support. And he sent in Ari, his other favorite.

If the target made your cover, he was as good as gone. So you put your pride aside and disguised as an exotic dancer.

It was the best chance to get close to the target without immediately getting made.

You tugged at the bottom strap of your solid gold top to alleviate some pressure on your ribs. You were sure they gave you a size smaller than you told them so your breasts are practically spilling out.

The bottom was a measly and thin, it was very obvious that it was made of leotard fabric and tailored it to be a bikini bottom.

You had absolutely no breathing room in this outfit. Every inch of skin on your body that could be visible is shown.

You’re not necessarily used to your sternum tattoo and your thigh tattoos being visible to the naked eye.

Continuing through the crowd, a man slapped your ass as he walked by making you immediately tense.

You looked over your shoulder at him, watching as he drank your figure in. One disgusting man isn’t going to jeopardize your mission, so you continued moving.

The mixed scents of designations with smoke and sweat made you nose blind to anything else so you didn’t bother sniffing.

You made eye contact with the newer agent when he started speaking on coms.

“I count five guards,” he says, pressing and adjusting his Bluetooth in his ear.

A scowl made its way onto your face when you saw a larger man in an all black suit look in the new agent’s direction.

He flagged down another man and they converse for a few paces, sending occasional glances in his direction.

Shit.

“Do me a favor and stop messing with your comms. You’ve been made. Go to the rendezvous point.” You commanded.

“I wasn’t made.” “Fine then I’ll let Tweetledee and Tweetledum take you into the back alley and beat you to a pulp,” you snap.

His eyes widen when the two large men push their way through the crowd and beelined straight for him.

“On it. Sorry.” He rushes out the back door with them hot on his tail.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you rolled your neck around until it cracked. “Maybe you should go easy on the kid,” Ari points out.

“I’m not going to let anyone jeopardize my mission, Romeo.” “Your mission?” you opened your mouth to respond when a man whistled over at you, motioning you to come over once you made eye contact.

“Care to give me a dance, sweetheart?” The man asks, pulling you into his lap and squeezing your waist eagerly.

“Anything you want,” Ari’s gaze darkened when he saw your hips moving sensually to the soft beat of the music.

You threw your head back, your box braids swaying around until the landed on your chest. The man pulled you even closer, scenting the sensitive skin below your ear.

A omega woman approached Ari with a tray full of drinks.

“May I offer you a drink, sir?” She bends down slightly so he could take a drink from his seated position.

“Thanks honey,” he took out his wallet and gave her a twenty for her consideration. Her hand caressed his palm when she gingerly took the bill from his hand.

She moved her hair to the side, exposing her unmarked gland. “I’m not interested,” he takes a sip of his bourbon once the omega moves away from him.

Ari hasn’t had genuine relationship with an omega that wasn’t sexual. He initially fell for the bullshit theory that philosophers create centuries ago about the match made in Heaven.

An alpha and an omega destined to be together by the Alpha Gods.

He quickly realized when he married Rachel that not every omega can spark that special connection.

Just because omegas weren’t easy to find in common society, doesn’t mean they’re all special. Now he’s found himself caught in a marriage because an omega got pregnant

Neither of them have filed for a divorce yet because of the immense amount of paperwork and money that would go into it.

Ari came to terms with the fact that his child spends more time with the babysitter than with her parents.

With him away on missions and Rachel spending every waking minute with her sugar daddy alpha, the kid doesn’t stand a chance at a normal childhood.

And it’s not like anything is going to change any time soon.

Ari was seated in a loveseat across the room for you. He watches you over the rim of his glass, still dancing on the man’s lap.

He tilts his head as he tried to decipher your thigh tattoos from behind.

“I didn’t realize how tatted you were, Juliet.” You rolled your eyes at Ari’s remark and had glanced over the man’s shoulder at the target.

Rumlow. You thought to yourself. The man he was meeting hasn’t up yet, but you needed to prepare yourself for when he does.

Your strategizing was cut short when the man cradled your neck, smoothing a hand over your gland.

You stopped your movements, narrowing your eyes directly into his. The smile slowly fell from his face and a low growl grumbled in your chest.

His hand slowly dropped from your gland and you snapped at him.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he holds his hands up and you slid off his lap.

“Pig,” you walked away from him and made your way to the bar. You were going to be giving drinks for the rest of the night. Screw the dances.

“Well that wasn’t very nice,” “Fuck you, Romeo.” He smiles against the glass before downing the rest of the bourbon.

Ari couldn’t help but notice the frequent head turning from groups of men when you walk by. Followed by the sniffs in your general direction.

Ari had to admit, you had an interesting scent. Actually, there is no scent initially and no way of telling what designation you were.

The way you carried yourself, you could easily be mistaken for an alpha. But Ari had a sneaky suspicion that you weren’t an alpha.

You were an omega that took the strongest scent blockers he’s even heard.

He’s smelled your original scent before. It was a faint whiff, but he smelled it and he’s been drunk for it ever since.

He made the connect that you scent spikes through the scent blockers when you’re aggravated about something.

Luckily for him, he had a knack for being aggravating. Truth was, Ethan knew you were capable of doing this mission alone.

It was Ari who insisted on tagging along.

But you will never figure that out. Or maybe you will, you’re quite the sharp tool. “We have a long night ahead of us. So let’s just play nice.” Ari suggests.

“Don’t provoke me and maybe I will,”

You continued serving drinks, getting more and more annoyed with every slap on the ass you received.

Ari kept an eye on the door to any new faces turn up and after a while, you realized how quiet your comms have been.

It’s been dead silent for at least five minutes. And Ari never knew when to shut up so you knew something was wrong.

You looked around for Ari only to find him staring at you confusingly. You needed to talk to him but you couldn’t pull him aside.

Otherwise that would break your cover. Letting out a sigh, you set the tray of drinks down at the bar and made your way over to him.

“Follow my lead,” you said to him, putting your hand on his shoulder and sliding into his lap. He keeps his hands by his side as he looked at you attentively.

You held his gaze for a moment before moving your hips against him and rolling your body. “What happened to comms?”

“No idea,” he slowly slides down the seat, his hands gripping the arm rests for dear life.

“Do you know how long they were out?” “No,” he grunts. “Do you think they’re onto us?” “There’s a chance. Are they looking?”

You glanced over his shoulder and saw Rumlow with a dancer giving him a lap dance. He downs his drink and shakes his glass at the bartender.

You felt Ari’s body tense underneath you and you raised a brow at him.

“If you want this to be believable, I need you to touch me.” “I’m trying to be respectful,”

“Please. Don’t pretend like your eyes haven’t been glued to my ass all night, Romeo.” He licks his lips and rested his hands on your thighs.

The second his hand touched your bare thigh, you inhaled sharply. Heat spread from your thighs up your waist and chest, finally resting on your face.

Your mating gland throbbed painfully and you stopped moving against him. His grip on your thighs tightened when you tried to move off of him.

Ari groans as the same burning heat took over him, his gland pulsing at the same rhythm as yours.

Your heart sank in your chest when you made the realization. Your scent was spreading passed the scent blockers.

Ari’s hands move up your back and held you close, dipping his head to inhale your sweet scent of honeysuckle and warm honey.

You let out a fearful growl when the tip of his nose brushes the base of your throat.

Your heart continued to patter in your chest when you made eye contact with the group of betas looking over at you, sniffing in your general direction.

The anxiety caused your scent to spike and you attempted to leave his lap once again but he held you down.

“Let me go,” “If I let you go now, they will swarm you. Just trust me,” he says the last few words slowly, removing his grip from your back.

He takes a few deep breaths, moving your body with each breath. You looked over at the initial group of betas who crinkled their noses and looked away from you.

His husky scent of pine and sandalwood invaded your nose in strong wafts. He was masking your scent with his, staking an unwanted claim. You had matched your breathing to his, bring you out of your anxiousness.

You hadn’t realized you were digging your nails into his dress shirt. Releasing him from your grip, you slid off his lap.

And when you looked over at the target, he was gone. “Mission’s over,” you hugged your arms to your chest and beelined for the changing room before Ari could reach for you again.

He waited for you outside in the car and you had changed back into your black slacks and white blouse.

You had pulled your box braids into a low bun. Sliding into the passenger seat, you tossed your duffel bag in the bag and sent a text to the new agent letting him know you were on your way.

Ari watched you turn your face to look out the window once you send the text. You were actively avoid any interaction with him.

At least before you entertained him with snarky remarks and insults. This was much worse. He reverses out the back alley and onto the highway.

“So are we going to talk about what happened in there?”

“Nothing happened, Levinson.” “Bullshit. You felt something and it scared you.” “No I wasn’t. I was pissed that I missed another chance to take the some of a bitch down.”

“Yeah, sure.” He says skeptically. “Why do you take such strong scent blockers?”

“Because of what happened in there. I’ve always had an intoxicating scent. And it’s gotten me into a lot of trouble as a teenager so I suppress it.”

“It is very intoxicating,” another silence fell over the two of you and Ari looked at you but your gaze remained outside the window.

“You’re really not going to talk about it?” “No. I already have a lot on my plate with work. I don’t need this right now.”

“Our primal instinct doesn’t care about our human duties,” “You sound just like those ancient men in those history books,” you dismiss.

“Look at me,” “No,” “Look at me, omega.” “You’re not my Alpha. You don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just want to talk to you.” “There’s nothing to talk about,” “Yes, there is. Stop dismissing everything, Y/N. This is serious.”

And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

You looked away from the window and said, “How serious is this, Ari? Hm? Is it life or death? Or just some stupid reason for Alphas to have complete control of another living being?”

You poked harshly at his arm and he growled at the tone you used and you emitted a growl low enough to make your chest vibrate.

“Y/N,” he warns. “I am not an omega you can just claim, Ari. If you try, I will make sure to make your life a living hell. So just drop it.”

You held his gaze for a few seconds before returning your gaze back out of the window. Ari made the conclusion like this was nothing like how they described it in the history books.

If you truly was his mate, then how the hell was he going to prove that to you? He had better luck finding a needle in a haystack.

**

Ari wasn’t sure what to do about pursuing you. Your inner omega was aggressive and untamed despite your calm human nature. You were strong for an omega and you made it clear that you had to be earned.

He spent weeks bring your flowers, contacting some of your coworkers to learn your favorite foods and wines. You didn’t trust him at all, but you decided to give him somewhat of a chance.

He took you on a date on horseback. Once he found out you grew up in el campo, he immediately researched the nearest horseback riding stable and booked a session.

He wanted to know as much about you as possible. From you of course, but you’ve been keeping him at arm’s length since you met him.

When he tried to lean in to kiss you after the date, you growled at him and retreated back into your house, leaving him completely dumbfounded on your porch.

You kept him on his toes, which encourages the chase. But Ari’s concern is that you never stop running from him.

That he won’t get the chance to catch you and he’ll lose you forever.

The last thing he had to remember between you was an argument. It was the day before he was set to leave for Ethiopia and wanted to see you before he left.

He would have been gone for weeks at a time and there was no telling when he would be back.

You were pissed because he hid the fact the was married from you. He thought you knew from Ethan but you hadn’t.

He replayed your argument almost daily in his head up until the drive back to your place after the assignment; his face would heat up at the mere thought of it.

“When were you going to tell me? Were you even going to tell me?” “Of course, I was- I thought you already knew.”

You scoffed and turned away from him to walk into your kitchen. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have given you the time of day.”

You took a glass from the cabinet and poured a bourbon on the rocks. “You barely give me the time of day now,”

“Any normal person would have gotten the hint by now and move on,” “Then I guess I’m not a normal person,” you down the drink in one shot, making a face when the burn lingers.

“Ari, I really don’t think this is going to work. You’re married. You obviously married her because you had some sort of connection with her. So focus on repairing things with her instead of starting new with me,”

“No. There was never a connection. I did it out of obligation.” “So.. does that make me an obligation then?”

“I want to be with you, Y/N. We share a connection whether you want to or not. So stop being stubborn for once and allow it to happen.” He snaps.

You met his gaze from across the counter and let out a long breath. “I think you should focus on your mission for tomorrow,” you said after a long pause.

He huffs and presses the palms of his hands against the counter. “Okay,” he said softly and left your house.

You waited for the door to close to lean your head against the wall. He wasn’t going to go away. So that means you have to.

Ari was immediately concerned when he was greeted by a for sale sign in your front yard when he pulled into your driveway.

He left the flower he bought you in the passenger seat and ran up the stairs. The front door was locked so he went around back to check if the sliding glass door was open.

He sighed in relief when the door smoothly slid open. Everything was moved out from the house and your scent has faded out, even in your bedroom.

He bowed his head when he realized that you were gone for nearly as long as he was on assignment.

Where the hell did you go?

He pulls out his phone and clicked on an unsaved number. On the third ring, someone answered.

“Well isn’t this a surprise. How’s it going, sunshine?” Lloyd greets. “Lloyd, I need you to do something to me,” “Name it,”

[quinloki]

Positively Victorian Again

Sabo x afab reader

Cw: oral, fingering, glove kink, implied power dynamics, noble Sabo tones, ~ unedited, apologies for any major errors.

Notes: Not really a part two to Positively Victorian, but kind of a part two xD idk I need to just make this vibe a full on story at some point.

It’s a reward for both of us. His words rang in your head as you saw the state of the seat you were to take.

Plush and beautiful, rich hand carved wood, everything you could expect down to the small details of a seat meant for a noble to use during a long opera.

Except for the small fact that most of the seat was missing. Barely enough for your ass honestly. There was almost no back to it, but it was obvious both from the design and your outfit that your skirts were meant to go around it.

Aside from the required items to keep the shape and style of your layered, expensive dress, you had nothing else on beneath it. At Sabo’s request, of course, but when he had invited you to the opera, you had expected him only to tease you during the hours long production.

With words.

Moving the skirts with practiced ease you settled onto the strangely comfortable seat. You had to place your legs on the sides of the chair, in order to put yourself in a comfortable position, and you were acutely aware of how bare you were beneath it all.

“This box,” Sabo begins, sitting down beside you, and keeping his voice low. “Is a bit of a tragedy. The acoustics are almost as good as those from the stage. Normal conversation carries down to the seats below quite easily.”

He leans closer, speaking quietly into your ear. “It would be imprudent for me to nap on your skirts, my sweet dove, so when i find rest beneath them, do keep your… complaints quiet.”

You can feel your heart race at the implications, and take a few minutes to calm yourself before replying.

“Naps during a show are imprudent on their own.” You tease. “Aren’t you meant to teach me manners, young lord?”

Sabo smiles, bright and charming. “Consider it a test.” He says, taking off his hat and stepping around behind you. “Control of one’s expressions and emotions are paramount.”

“Wait, where are you go- Sabo the play hasn’t even started.” You nearly hiss the words, a little bit of panic as he’s already lifting your skirts to sneak his way under them.

“Do keep your eyes forward,” he admonishes softly, leaning forward and kissing your neck softly and swiftly. “The second act tends to drag a little, and curious eyes will certainly wander during that time.”

“It’s three hours.” You nearly whine, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’ll count how many times you cum, so just focus on the play.” He promises, disappearing under the seat and your skirts easily.

With a resigned sigh you shift your attention to the stage. You aren’t surprised to feel warm, gloved hands, against your legs. Of all the tricks he would pull to cause you to make noise, surprise wasn’t one of them.

His hands moved against your ankles, calves and thighs like he was mapping them out and committing their every curve to memory. It was pleasurable and relaxing and even as it had you needy for more, it allowed you to focus on the play.

If only a little.

Gloved thumbs slipped over bare labia, waxed smooth from a “punishment” a few days prior. Sabo had warned you about the price for stepping on his shoes while the two of you practiced dancing. The lesson had been useful, but it had also brought your relationship to a new level.

“I think I’ve moved my feet out of the way enough,” he’d said with a reluctant smile. “So do be careful going forward.”

You’d grinned. “I wondered why, no matter how I tried, I still hadn’t stepped on your foot… young lord.”

Sabo had paused the dance to regard you a moment, and you’d taken that chance to purposefully step on his shoe, grinding the toe of your shoe into his, defiant grin on your face.

He’d resumed dancing afterward, voice low and eyes sharp. “If my sweet dove desires punishment, she need only ask.”

You felt the shiver roll through you as he spread your labia apart, breath hot against your soaked folds. His fingers shift, gloved digits moving between your thighs, fingers hungrily pressing and sliding over the hot, slicked, tender intricacies of your vulva.

Your fingers tense, gripping your skirts as you try to keep your focus on the stage. You can feel him keeping you open, exposed, and you’re certain he’s simply staring.

A single finger against your clit pulls a soft shuddering breath from you, and your legs tense as it swirls in a lazy circle. For long minutes he teases you this way, and you can almost move the sensation to the back of your mind to focus on the stage.

Though not much interesting is happening now. A tepid conversation.

As the tension of the conversation builds, the tempo of Sabo’s finger rises, pressing heavier and rubbing you faster. With a little bit of dread you realize this bastard has the play memorized.

When the conversation on stage reaches its grand reveal, his fingers push into your pussy, rushing a soft gasp out of you in time with the surprised gasp of the theater crowd.

And so the play goes. Sabo teases you as the tension in the play builds, pleasing you roughly here and there as there are reveals and other peaks within the story. He edges you as the characters experience frustrations, and buries his face into your cunt suddenly, sucking and licking your clit as his fingers pump inside you.

The powerful orgasm hits you as the lead soprano’s note fills the theater. Your stifled moan is swallowed by the powerful sound - not that Sabo grants you any mercy afterward. He’s never satisfied with just one, pulling the first rush into a second.

Leaving you to sob with the audience as a sad scene in the third act leaves everyone in tears. Yours are from overstimulation, legs trembling as the third orgasm seems to earn you some small reprieve, Sabo’s tongue licking you clean gently, instead of rushing you to another crescendo.

Two more slowly built up orgasms leave you breathless and exhausted as the play starts to wrap up. Sabo come out from under your skirts, tidying himself a little, and putting his hat back on as he sits down beside you.

His gloves are obviously stained and wet, but he makes no move to take them off as he grips the arm rests of his seat. He gives you a kind, knowing smile, as the curtains fall and helps you stand so you can give the same ovation as the other opera goers.

“Good job, sweet dove.” He says, taking his hat off no using it to shield the both of you from the rest of the theater as he gives you a kiss. “Perhaps we could have an encore on the ride back home, hm?”

[sekaithemystic]

Neve Gallus Analysis and Theory series [Part 2]

Rana snapped a salute as we entered. Knight-Captain Jahvis stood on the other side of the desk, all patched-up armor and sleep-deprived glares in front of an expensive marble fireplace. I sympathized. My family has more templars than mages. I’m sure that says a lot about me. The point is, I’m not from an old family and I felt as at home in Lady Varantus’s house as Jahvis looked.

The section under this contains spoilers from the podcast Vows and Vengeance.

[part 1] [part 3]

Neve and Radonis - the possible bastard of the current Imperial Archon

Let’s start with the similarities in their designs

Serpent theme: This is less visible in Radonis’ design compared to Neve. Aside from the collars and his staff, there isn’t much to talk about. However, in the illustration of Archon Darinius, we see that he has a snake’s head on his headpiece, which does give out the idea that Archons have some sorts of relation to the serpent theme.

Teal color: Radonis wears a full teal outfit, and we can also see that Darinius has teal accent in his as well. I guess we can say that teal is something to associate with the Archon, or at the very least, Tevinter itself. One of Neve’s alternative outfits, the one that concept art Neve wore, actually made it into the game, and you can see that it is a full teal outfit, just like Radonis. I would like to say that the design is quite clean cut, and it gives out the impression of someone from the upper classes - quite the opposite to her default one.

Also, their faces, guys! That DNA test is coming out at 99.9% /j

Next I’ll move onto Neve’s tarot card. This section is actually more concrete than the designs’ similarities to be honest.

The background: The Archon’s Palace can just mean that they are in Minrathous, but then it is also, well, the place the Archon lives and reigns. Having a blood moon that indicates changes can be read as “the changes are coming to Tevinter” or more specifically, the Archon himself.

The shadow: Here I will break it into smaller points

I mention that the shadow is quite similar to an Arcane Horror, except that this Arcane Horror is holding a staff. Now, throughout the last three games, all the Arcane Horror we have encountered use their bare hands to cast magic. Why? Because they don’t need a catalyst to focus on to channel their magic into; they are demons! So seeing one with a staff means that it has to be different somehow. More intelligent, more powerful? Someone like the Archon himself?

It’s not just the presence of the staff, but also the design of it that is questionable. You can see that there are some types of scales near the head - it kinda reminds you of a dragon/snake’s head. Radonis’ staff has three heads instead of one, but then, I don’t expect Bioware to actually put a copy of his staff in here when these cards are more about symbolisms. Maybe this is his staff after being corrupted? 

My favorite finding really, and I’m quite proud of this. Note how the orb of Neve’s staff is positioned right at the center of the shadow’s chest. In Heroes of Dragon Age, Radonis had an orb of the exact location. In Magekiller, however, the orb has been discarded, but there is still this empty space that is of the orb’s shape. Certainly something to consider.

Neve: This is based on vibes only, but you can feel like Neve is waiting for the shadow to come. Why? Is this somebody she knows?

This is more of a personal tidbit but from Vows and Vengeance episode 1, we know that Neve has made quite a lot of enemies in the Magisterium for how much she knows about the Magisters and their shady business. So just how come she is still alive? I know that she is a talented mage, but let’s be honest, if any of those Magisters wants her dead, I don’t expect her to stay alive that long, or even just live normally in Minrathous. I’ll say that there’s an external factor here, someone trying to keep her alive. But then, who has the power to do so except for the person above these Magisters?

And how interesting would it be if this is true? The lowborn bastard who doesn’t believe in the superiority of mages and the mighty Archon who rules over with magic, both fighting for their visions of Tevinter. 

[eddysocs]

Page Six — Chapter Three (Designer/Model Duo Dazzle At Paris Fashion Week)

Summary: Jocelyn navigates the whirlwind of Paris Fashion Week, while she and Kyle grow closer, leading to an unexpected question from Kyle.

Word Count: 2,222

Tags: Platonic hand holding, fluff, fashion show

Chapter Two <- 💎

Fashion Week preparations had taken over Jocelyn's life. She’d been darting between fittings with Aiden, packing a multitude of outfit options for every possible event they’d be attending while in Paris, and coordinating her schedule with Aiden's. The only break in her day had come when a text came through from Kyle.

Jocelyn sat down to read it and Aiden walked in to find her with her face buried in her phone. "Did the stress finally break you," he joked.

"Text from Kyle," she explained, her eyes never leaving the message on her screen.

"What does she have to say?"

"She’s wondering where we’re staying for Fashion Week."

"Tell her. Offer her our adjoining room if you want."

Finally, she looked up. "Wait, really," she asked. "Don’t you need that for the collection?"

"I think I can make do. It’s not like our room won’t be big enough as it is."

Jocelyn hesitated. "Only if you’re sure," she said.

"I’m positive. You’re going to have a busy week, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a friend in the next room."

"Okay, I’ll tell her."

Jocelyn began typing back to Kyle as Aiden left the room with a sly smile. After an excited reply from Kyle that brought the biggest grin to Jocelyn's face, she immediately went back to packing.

Time seemed to fly by and the day of their flight was already upon them. "Joc, you ready," Aiden called up the stairs.

"Just grabbing my bags," she shouted back. Finally, she came down the stairs carefully, with her over abundance of luggage weighing her down.

"You overpacked," Aiden stated.

"You knew I would."

"Fair enough," he replied with a chuckle.

The bags once again became a nuisance when they arrived at the airport, but Jocelyn wrangled them to the best of her ability. As she was rescuing her duffle from toppling over on top of her largest suitcase, she heard familiar voice calling her name.

"Jocelyn, is that you?"

She turned to see Kyle, dressed impeccably in a sleek black trench coat and oversized sunglasses, waving her over with a hint of surprise lighting up her expression. Jocelyn’s face broke into a grin as she made her way over to Kyle, leaving Aiden with her bags.

"Kyle! What are the chances?" Jocelyn laughed, still taken aback. "You’re on this flight too, I take it?"

Kyle nodded, giving Jocelyn a quick, friendly once over. "Absolutely! Fashion Week calls, you know. I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you’d be on a private jet with your style, and Aiden's designs of course."

"They were sent over yesterday, and are probably being moved to our hotel room as we speak so Aiden can do his final touches."

The two of them started making their way towards the gate. Jocelyn picked up her carry on from Aiden, who trailed along with his own behind them.

"Maybe we could do a little shopping together while we’re in Paris. If you’re not too busy, that is."

"Aside from a couple of can’t miss events, and walking in Aiden's show, I'm pretty free. And I always make time for shopping in Paris."

"You didn’t tell me you were walking in the show!"

"I always do. I’m the final girl in the lineup at every show of his. Pretty sure I could pull some strings and get you front row if you want," she tempted as the three of them boarded the plane.

As Jocelyn walked on ahead, Aiden tapped Kyle's shoulder and whispered something to her that Jocelyn couldn’t hear. And when Kyle ended up sitting next to her instead of Aiden, she was surprised to say the least.

"I would love to get front row at Aiden's show," Kyle said as they got settled.

"Great! We'll make it happen."

They made a little more idle conversation before the plane was ready for takeoff, and once the announcement was made, Kyle instinctively reached for Jocelyn's hand. Though Jocelyn initially tensed at the unexpected gesture, she quickly remembered about Kyle's flight anxiety, having seen it so often on her show. And so, despite being a little flustered by holding Kyle's hand, Jocelyn pulled herself together to give a reassuring squeeze before takeoff, and it seemed to comfort Kyle a little.

When they were in the air, Kyle let go. "Thank you. I still get nervous at takeoffs and turbulence. We hit a bump and I'll probably be in your lap." Kyle laughed, and Jocelyn put on a smile, but she’d never wished for a rough flight more than she was at that moment.

While Aiden put on his sleep mask a couple rows behind them, he could hear bits and pieces of their conversation and hoped the two were making a real connection. He couldn’t have all his meddling be for nothing, after all.

Nearly eleven hours later, they landed. Again, Kyle had reached for Jocelyn to calm herself during the landing and again Jocelyn provided comfort in whatever little way she could. They both managed to get some sleep during the trip, but Jocelyn could tell that the jet lag wasn’t going to take it easy on her.

Once all their bags were gathered, they shared a car to the hotel, Aiden joining in their animated conversation about his show. He knew he’d be up all night doing final touches, but it was good to have some positive feedback and excitement for his collection.

Jocelyn and Aiden walked Kyle to her room, then went down one more door and to their own. Despite the spotty few hours of sleep she’d managed to get on the plane, Jocelyn was thankful to finally get to her room and flop herself on top of the nice hotel mattress. Without even unpacking, she was out like a light.

Jocelyn awoke the next morning to the smell of a french vanilla frappuccino being wafted under her nose. "Mmm, is that what I think it is?" Jocelyn opened her eyes to find her favorite morning drink in the hand of her overly thoughtful and considerate husband. "Aiden, you’re a lifesaver."

"I was already up and I know jet lag kills you. Figured you’d be needing one. And you’re all unpacked too. You’re welcome, by the way."

"You know, I really do love you." A warm smile lit up Jocelyn's face, foam from her coffee lightly coating her upper lip. Aiden rolled his eyes at her and reached to wipe the foam away.

"Don’t make a mess, you have a show to get ready for." Jocelyn made a mock salute and continued on with her coffee. She’d have no trouble picking an outfit today, as she’d be wearing Aiden's final look for his line. All she really had to do was hair and makeup, and there’d no doubt be a team coming by for that shortly.

As Jocelyn enjoyed her coffee, a soft and tentative knock fell on the door that connected their room with Kyle's. Jocelyn had nearly forgotten that Aiden helped set that up for them. Going to the door while Aiden studied the rolling rack of clothes one last time before sending them on ahead, she opened it only to see Kyle standing on the other side wearing a black silk robe. "Can you help me pick out what to wear for today? I want to make a good impression on Aiden when I go to his show."

"I’ve got just the thing," Aiden piped up, grabbing a garment bag from behind the door and shoving it into Jocelyn's hand. "Last year's showstopper. Should fit her like a glove." He flashed a bright grin at the two of them, accompanied by a wink at Jocelyn before he began wheeling the garment rack out of their room in order to get it to the show on time.

"I guess you better try this on then," Jocelyn said, punctuating it with a nervous laugh. Aiden was really going above and beyond for Kyle. It was starting to unnerve her a bit. But, she remembered the look from last season's line well, as she had been the one to wear it. And if Aiden had altered it a bit, then it probably would fit Kyle exactly as he promised, and she really wanted to see what it looked like.

So, Jocelyn followed Kyle into her room and sat on the edge of the bed as Kyle went into the bathroom to change. As she waited, she tried not to pry into Kyle's things, but took in the room and what were clearly Kyle's belongings strewn around it. Her attention was brought back the moment that bathroom door opened and Kyle stepped out in Aiden's green velvet dress with the sweetheart neckline, floral inlays and peplum hem. Jocelyn had decided the moment she first tried it on that it was her favorite piece Aiden had ever designed, and now that she saw it on Kyle, she was doubling down on that sentiment.

"Thank you, this is perfect. Please thank Aiden for me. This is literally so beautiful."

Jocelyn nodded, a bit dumbfounded. "Yeah. It looks really great. I’ll, uh, I’ll be sure to tell him. He’ll love seeing it at the show. Oh, god, the show! I have to go get ready myself."

Kyle shooed her back to her own room. "Go. Go. Don’t let me keep you. I’ll see you later on the runway."

The next couple of hours were spent in a chair, getting her hair and makeup done by the team Aiden sent for her. She didn’t love having a glam squad, favoring to do her own makeup and hair on most occasions, but it was his show, and she wouldn’t make a fuss over it for his sake.

Finally, the moment had come. She was backstage, being looked over a hundred times by her worrying husband, and then it was out on the runway where Kyle sat in the front row, her dark hair shining under the soft glow of the chandeliers above. Kyle had been curious to see Aiden's collection, but even more curious to see Jocelyn in her element while modeling for it.

The first model strutted down the runway, followed by another, each piece more breathtaking than the last. Then, the music shifted —a sultry, commanding beat— and the room collectively held its breath until Jocelyn appeared at the top of the runway. She wore a sleek royal blue gown that shimmered with every step she took, her hair styled in loose waves that cascaded down her back. The gown hugged her curves perfectly, and the high slit revealed a flash of her toned leg as she glided down the runway.

Kyle could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. Jocelyn was radiant. She made Aiden’s vision come to life in a way she’d never quite seen a model do before, and Kyle couldn’t tear her eyes away. 

As Jocelyn reached the end of the runway, she paused, striking a pose that drew a roar of applause from the crowd. Her eyes briefly scanned the audience, and when they landed on Kyle, she gave a subtle, knowing smile. Kyle returned it with a small nod, feeling her cheeks flush.

After the show ended, Kyle found herself swept into the post show celebrations. She spotted Jocelyn across the room, surrounded by well wishers and A-list attendees alike. When their eyes met again, Jocelyn excused herself from the crowd and made her way over to Kyle.

"You were incredible up there," Kyle said, handing Jocelyn a champagne flute. 

Jocelyn laughed lightly, accepting the glass.

"You’re too kind, Kyle. But I’m glad you came. It means a lot to me, and to Aiden."

"I wouldn’t have missed it for the world." Kyle clinked her glass against Jocelyn’s. "So, how are we celebrating? Dinner? Dancing? Both?"

"Dinner sounds perfect," Jocelyn replied. "Aiden has this networking party that I have to make an appearance at, but once he gets chatting, I’m all clear."

Later that night, they ended up at a chic little restaurant, tucked away in a private booth. Kyle took a sip of her drink, then leaned forward slightly. "You know, I’ve been thinking about something."

"Oh?" Jocelyn tilted her head, intrigued.

"You’d be perfect for The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills," Kyle said. "You’ve got the style, the charisma, the story. People would love you."

Jocelyn raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across her face, not quite sure she was believing this. "Are you serious?"

"Completely." Kyle leaned back, swirling her wine. "You’ve got this magnetic quality, Jocelyn. And let’s be honest, you’d bring something fresh to the show. Plus, I’d love having you around more."

Jocelyn considered it for a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "It’s a tempting offer. But wouldn’t it complicate things? The cameras, the drama…"

"Sure, it’s not always easy," Kyle admitted. "But it’s also a platform. A way to tell your story, to show the world who you are. And trust me, I think you’re more than ready for it."

Jocelyn’s smile turned thoughtful. "I’ll think about it. But only if you promise to have my back."

"Always," Kyle said without hesitation, raising her glass. "To new beginnings?"

Jocelyn clinked her glass against Kyle’s, her eyes positively sparkling. "To new beginnings."

💎 -> Chapter Four

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw, @gcthvile, @immyowndefender, @savageoofchicken896

[disastrouslyyours]

For the ask game thing!! (feel free to skip any if you wanna!! <3)

13, 16 and 18 (hehe) for Gideon

4 and 7 for Phyllis!

(sorry Uncle Gray, but i'm pulling you outta the spotlight for this one! <3 )

Gray can’t be the center of attention all the time. So, starting with Gideon:

13. Do you have a voice claim for the character? What do you imagine they sound like?

Again, I’m terrible at these. Gideon’s voice is a little tricky for me to describe than Gray’s, but he sounds bright, boisterous, bold, and brash (and belongs in the trash). He’s very dynamic with his words and his inflection, very flashy and showy. But you probably assumed as much.

16. Are there any memes or running jokes associated with the character, both in- and out of universe?

The man himself is a walking joke. He’s the kind of guy who fumbles every pass that comes his way, yet still manages to come out on top. Nothing in particular comes to mind, but comment down below if you’re thinking of something I’m not.

18. Does the character have other characters connected to them? Do you have a family tree and “offscreen” connections made up for them or do they exist in a vacuum purely for the purpose of the story?

Gideon has a few connections! His secretary, Celeste, his designer, Gray, and his best friend, Catt (me myself and I, the most blatant and direct self insert). I’m really bad at giving my characters families and backgrounds, so I suppose right now he exists in a vacuum. (Aside from… a few visits to a certain house that a few friends might reside in. ;) hehe)

And moving on to the woman of all time, Phyllis!

4. Between name, appearance, personality, and role in story, what aspect do you struggle with the most?

Phyllis is one of my first characters and favorite characters, but I still haven’t nailed down her appearance! Her name, personality, and role all feel super solid to me, but I struggle to figure out what species of creature this former Hollywood starlet might be. Part of me wants to make her a bird of some sort, but drawing those is a little above my current skills. I want to figure her out soon though, so I can add her to my ArtFight list!

7. What is an aspect of their appearance that you like the most?

Funny follow up question! Her main inspirations are Bret Somers and Phyllis Diller (sorry I stole your name <3), and so I want her to have dramatic makeup and dramatic expressions. She might have dramatic, oversized glasses, but that’s TBD. She’ll follow a loosely 70s inspired wardrobe, so I imagine I’ll have a lot of fun thinking up outfits for her. Not quite the answer to this exact question, but it’s what I decided to say lol.

[spinningbagel]

Heyyyy y’all I come bearing a gift for you all ✨✨ (it’s Sheriff’s design in the Cyberpunk Au)

I debated posting this, not sure if I should wait to do the others but decided to just do them individually so I can talk about the design, the character in the Au and other things I feel the need to mention.

So without further ado, here’s Sheriffs design:

And an alternative version to show off some glowy parts of the outfit:

So, with Sheriffs design I wanted something interesting yet something that’d be mostly practical for his line of work. So he’s got a cool jacket for that with some orange accents to represent the district he lives in (I’ll talk about districts at a later date.) the orange accents are also on his shoes and the thingys on his pants.

The back of his jacket has the star to represent the sheriffs star he has in canon because I didn’t want to give him an actual one in this, if you’ve seen the one or two drawings I did of Hero, i did the same thing there just with the sleeves.

Moving on.

On his right arm, you’ll see what is essentially an electronic glove with a screen in his arm. It’s something Shooter created early into his and Sheriffs partnership, it does many things including having a built in map and communication app of Shooters design. Aside from using earpieces, this is their main form of contact, especially during stealth missions where it’s dangerous to speak.

And moving onto the left arm, we’ve got Sheriffs cybernetic arm, this is obviously to replace his mutated one in canon. It’s got dark greys on it in order to blend into the night but does have a light mode variant he can switch to at anytime. Yes, the shell of the arm can switch between light and dark and even a bunch of other colours. It’s a newer model in the world and is highly customisable. The arm also shifts into a gun as seen below the arm on the main drawing. There’s two variations, the first being where the hand becomes the gun and the second where it pops out of a compartment on the arm. I’m leaning more towards the first option but you guys can leave your thoughts.

There’s also his visor which is not on the main drawing but beside it, another one of Shooters creations, the visors job is to scramble facial recognition technology in order to keep Sheriffs identity secure. It can also make it seem like his eyes are a different colour to what they are. The visor also comes equipped with a mini map for when checking his sleeve isn’t an option.

Those are really the main parts of his design I wanted to mention. So let’s talk about other things about him.

In the MBCPAU, Sheriff is a bounty hunter and occasional assassin. He takes up odd jobs even given to him by clients or by other sources who give him information on criminals who have a bounty over their head. He’s obviously in this for the money, needing to pay off the loan he used to purchase his cybernetic arm (and have the surgery to get it attached. Yes it’s surgically attached to his body.) and to keep himself and Ryan under a safe roof. Ryan is wheelchair bound and doesn’t have an electronic one, not being able to afford it. Sheriff is also saving for one because he doesn’t want Ryan to strain himself trying to get around the house (which has been made as wheelchair accessible as possible.)

Sheriff met Shooter in high school and the two have been close ever since, Shooter has been assisting Sheriff on his missions since Sheriff barged into Shooters apartment one night, bleeding and delirious. Sheriff is thankful he’s on his team, Shooter saving his ass more times then he can count. Shooter doesn’t usually join him on missions, instead hanging back in his apartment and offering guidance from there.

Also this isn’t about Sheriff but Shooters parents are absolutely loaded (they’re head engineers for the company who produces cybernetic parts) so he lives in district 3.

Anywayss.

I believe that’s all, for any further questions you may be having, please head to my query box. It’s always open for asks and I live receiving them!!

As always, Stay safe and eat bread O/

[numbfandom]

I really wanna redesign Bell’s Hells… cause I draw them differently every time and I wanna nail it down.

I’ll comment or reblog this whenever I have a new idea for their designs cause yeah.

Bertrand - I’ve literally never drawn him!!! Which is so crazy to me, cause the group is named after this old man. I don’t know if I’d change much about his design, aside from making his colors more diluted/purple toned, and changing up his boot situation. I’ll have to rewatch some clips to get a better feel for him.

Dorian - He is perfect. But I do feel like his blues clash a bit, and it’s difficult to get the gradient right on his hair, so I’d probably lean into the teal memo, and emphasize the silver feel. I always draw him with a little bit of facial hair (usually a goatee) because it’s so hard to keep him baby faced.

Laudna - I prefer her outfit in her first design, but likely with an updo, and her gloves, which I’ll have to figure out. Pâté nests in her hair. Her colors are more black and purple centric, because of Delilah, and she has gold and red jewelry. Her eyes are almost all black. Tree imagery is still there.

FCG - He has a tongue. And eyebrows. I like his new coat, but it doesn’t look like it comes off easily, so I’d have to figure out a way to make it removable while still having his shoulder pauldrons there. I might move his changbringer coin to his wheel.

Fearne - She has an elongated face, more goat-like, with patterned fur framing her face and her shoulders. She has white freckles, like a deer. Her leg fur is brown but it fades into the same light green as her hair. She is more uncanny, now that we know her background in the feywild. Maybe goat eyes.

Imogen - She has blue and orange/gold vibes, with her gray clothing blue tinted, and golden accessories. Her hair is lighter, and the same color as her scars before they fade to red. She has glasses for reading. Her hair is wavy and very messy.

Orym - Little guy! He has a tail, because I love that for him. There are little white flowers all over his armor, and leaves tucked into his clothing. Keep the fingerless gloves. He has claw marks over his right eye from Chetney. This is probably gonna stay close to canon, aside from the tail.

Ashton - Probably gonna make their colors more vibrant, expand on the weirdcore glass head, and give their dark punk aesthetic some neon blue. He needs some knuckle rings. And more piercings. Tits might be out. Golden top scars. Black fingernails. Eyebrow slits. Eyebrows are more gemstone-y.

Chetney - idk how to fix him. More wolf like, probably. All scarred up. His wolf form is tiny.