#my star trek dreams are getting out of hand

[yandere-romanticaa]

ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬. - 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓.

❝ your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine, but i wish I was dead. ❞ - dark paradise, lana del rey.

yandere! honkai star rail men. (ana's faves edition.)

❦ Just a little post of my faves on why they love you! I've always been a fan of Valentine's Day because I always have, and always will be a proud Lover Girl™!

❧ 𝔧𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔲𝔞𝔫.

The tender eyed general can name a plethora of things that he loves about you... As a matter of fact, he could spend centuries just sitting in his ravishing garden, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of divine blossoms as he lists the qualities that he finds oh so endearing and appealing.

Frankly, that level of lovesick is a smidge maddening to some people. Others find the general's devotion incredibly charming. It's really a matter of perspective when you think about it.

However, all of his endless praise can be summed up to one thing in particular. You give him a sense of peace.

Pray tell, how many centuries of suffering has Jing Yuan endured? Well, it's difficult to pinpoint because the man is beyond adept at keeping his feelings in check, let alone actually revealing what makes him lose sleep at night. Jing Yuan has lost so much. He has endured far, far too much than one man ought to.

He may be a general, a warrior, a leader - but even he had his own dreams. His own ambitions. All of which became lost to time, strife and duty.

And all of his pain, all of the ache he feels in his shoulders simply melts away whenever you sit by his side. He is no better than a massive, spoiled house cat who just wishes to eat fine treats and be spoiled by your endless love and devotion.

If he could pick how he could die, all Jing Yuan would ever want is to be in your arms. His heart would be still, calm... The tranquility is just so heavenly, however could he give up on such a feeling?

❧ 𝔧𝔦𝔞𝔬𝔮𝔦𝔲.

Life is a strange road to trek on. You never really know what sort of perils you could come across. That was what made things so fun, Jiaoqiu would reckon.

Even if he no longer had the ability to actually see that road anymore...

The foxian was at least happy to know that his other senses had not been dulled thanks to his unfortunate predicament. He may be blind but he was not weak. He was too stubborn for that. Jiaoqiu still wished to fulfill his duty until the bitter end, no matter what the cost.

Stubbornness and an iron clad will can only get you so far though, especially if your body fails to cooperate. His spirit may be strong but his body simply is not.

And you would be there to hold his hand to tell him that it was all going to be alright.

As Jiaoqiu would break into massive coughs, his body giving into the horrible pain, he was still so happy to see that even after everything, you were still there for him.

Your loyalty had remained unshaken.

However could he thank you for this?

He was going to do everything he can to protect you, to love you in the way you deserve to be loved. Just thinking about you made his weak heart feel stronger again...

❧ 𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔞𝔶.

To be loved is to be heard. And to be heard is simply the greatest gift in the universe.

For as long as he could remember, that was all Sunday did. He would sit patiently as the person on the other side would tell him their biggest secrets, reveal their darkest sins. He had lost count of how many deplorable and depressing things he has heard throughout the years.

It had never even occurred to him that perhaps, he too needed to unveil his own darkness to another.

Without meaning to, he caved into that weakness. He did not even know that he had such a weakness. It was his job to listen, his job to guide, his job to be true. Even after joining the Astral Express, the least he could do was to hear the crew out on their many woes.

And yet, without any real effort, you had managed to break down his walls. You had shattered him for an evening, allowing him to speak his mind.

For the first time in forever, Sunday had been heard. He choked back the sobs, tried to bite down his despair but it was all pointless. All he had to do was to just look into your eyes and he was just so done. You held him like no one ever had, made him feel so vulnerable and weak but oh so happy.

Can you blame the poor little soul for becoming so attached to you after such an incident?

❧ 𝔭𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔫.

Everyone wants to be a hero.

In one way or the other, most - if not all - people wish to be acknowledged. They wish to hear the praise of their peers, they wish to know that they're doing good. Besides, being a hero has so many perks. People love you, they trust you.

And that same love is a shackle which you can't break out of.

That was how Phainon felt. He had no right to feel scared, he did not have the luxury of bowing out of a battle. If someone even suggested such an idea to him, Phainon would just let out a hearty laugh, his Adam's apple going up and down as his blue eyes shined bright with determination, the grip on his sword steady and more than ready to strike down his foes.

You knew better than to fall for that trick. Even with all that bravado, you could still sense the tiny quiver in his voice. You could see from the corner of your eye how his thighs shake ever so slightly.

Phainon was afraid. And once you had him cornered, you confronted him. Underneath the bright Okhema sky, you told him that it was alright to be terrified. That it was alright to have second doubts. That it was alright to be angry.

He may be a hero but he was still just a man.

And it was in that moment that Phainon realized that there was no need to keep up his hero facade with you. That he could just... be himself. Naturally, he was still cheerful, goofy and silly - teasing you was just too much fun.

But there was just a certain level of trust he felt. He knew that you would never judge him no matter what he did. Phainon was so happy to know that he had a sanctuary in your arms.

A dark corner of his heart trembled at the thought of losing that sanctuary. May the Titans bless him because he did not know what he would do if he lost you...

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The Eltingville Club has a crush

Bill/Josh/Pete/Jerry x fem!reader

warning : The four losers have a crush on you and can't handle it, no use of y/n, fluff (as far as this is even possible with them)

info : Welcome my dear readers to the latest fandom I opened, the four losers are just disgustingly cute, hope you like it and as always have fun reading :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill

The moment he dreamt of you, when his beautiful, lustful Star Trek dream was interrupted by the sight of you. A sight that shouldn't have thrilled him so much when he saw you in that short red uniform...a dream that showed him you out of all people.

Bill would hold his tongue, not daring to tell the others. The bad thing was that he couldn't ignore you, you were in class and you were only a few seats away from him.

But his eyes couldn't stop looking at you, he'd long since finished his algebra exercises and he just couldn't bring himself to read a comic book, he was too absorbed by you.

Worst of all your smile had turned his cheeks red with anger and shame, how dare a normal boring person look at him, the leader of the club. But the beating of his heart was not out of anger, when he heard a click at the end of the hour and saw your pen drop, his body seemed to move on its own.

He didn't have to look up to see you, he stood in front of the centre of your body and hastily turned his head away, ,,Your pen" he pressed out and flinched as your fingers brushed his, ,,Thank you Bill...nice major violence t-shirt" he heard you say and looked at you in disbelief.

A female being...a female being knew comics?! Wordlessly grabbing his things and swearing he heard the shouts of his friends, but he didn't dare turn round because then he would see you again and that damned smile.

Bill had a never ending denial phase but with a little time who knows maybe you'll bump into each other in the library and you'll engage him in a conversation about comics well maybe from now on it will be a repeat meeting just the two of you and maybe two hearts beating for each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Josh

He couldn't explain it, but for some time his searches for action fugues and collectible figures went in a female direction, not unusual when he wanted to see his sexist B-movie stars in skimpy clothes...what was unusual though was that they all started to look like you.

A realisation that left him breathless as if after a short sprint as he looked at the figure in a pink top and tight jeans with red lipsticked lips, ,,No-No this can't be true!" he shouted at the figure he had fetched from the mailbox. An outfit he would recognise anywhere.

It was the same outfit you wore last week, an outfit that had drawn his attention to the wearer. He hadn't been able to get you out of his head, this beauty that hardly any figure could portray, a body that was so much more flexible than any figure he had.

At school he sat a few seats away from you, the assignments long finished and Josh hoped for the break when he could go to the club room with the others. A room they went to after the bell rang and he suddenly saw you coming towards him.

To his amazement, he saw a 1981 Wonder Woman figurine in your hands with the glowing exclusive laso of truth and stopped in front of you. ,,Where did you get it?" he asked, his voice almost breaking and barely hearing his volume, not seeing his friends looking at him in anger and confusion as he almost crushed you.

Her answer of ,,I collect heroine figures for the film club I make stopmotion films with them" left his mouth hanging open before his expression became one of excitement. ,,New possibilities!" he shouted hastily, touching the figurine hurriedly but carefully, feeling the warmth of his fingers on hers as he ran back to his friends.

But the next day he sneaked into your club, having brought his own figures to shoot action-packed scenes for the camera. They were the best when it came to shooting and moving the characters, but most of all it was the hours they spent together and besides the films, their feelings seemed to come together like a film.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pete

Lost in his horror films he hadn't noticed it at first, he had looked through his collection so many times and it only occurred to him now when he looked at the cover for Bloody Wednesday, ,,By the machete of Jason" he said surprised when the woman on the cover looked too much like you.

A resemblance he had noticed as his gaze lingered rather obviously on the top, the way the bright colour hugged the torso and that amused look as you chatted with your friends, Pete was a simple horror fan and the idea of seeing you in a zombie apocalypse was just thrilling.

His love of horror seemed to be spreading, at least his heart wasn't beating from the excitement of a Twin Peaks marathon, but from seeing you at lunchtime. His wide grin, the just-too-exuberant look in his eyes, he knew he was going to be the first with a girlfriend.

Of course he had to be the first, his charm and perverted nature he just had to be the first. Of course, at the next club meeting there was a fit of laughter from the others who made fun of both his hope and his misconception.

After all, no clear-thinking female being would be willing to put up with a horror freak like him, would she? At least he wouldn't give up hope, even if it meant that he would be pulled back down to earth. Not taking his eyes off you at school, he waited for the ‘right’ moment.

A moment just before the end of the break, he came up to you in a b-movie ripe moment he let himself stumble and dropped a few of his best horror films and characters in front of you, ,,All good? Nice horror collection" he heard the anxious little question and saw that she was already starting to pick up his things.

,,It's all right now, beauty" he winked, his voice almost carrying over as their hands touched and he saw the smirk on her lips. But this cinematic meeting seemed to turn into a horror film date after school. Maybe he would be the first one with a girlfriend after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jerry

On the floor of his room were dice, books, maps, and trading cards from the latest set for his next campaign, which he was preparing. But his eyes didn't leave the card of the fairy princess, because this painted beauty looked a lot like you.

Of course he had seen the fairy princess many times before, but the more he looked at the card, the more captivated he became. ,,How did you escape me?” he wondered, placing the tip of his finger on her hand. She looked exactly like his classmate Dain.

A realization that his friends, however, rather dismissed as his imagination and a bad hope when the four of them had retreated into the shade of the schoolyard to read comics and hope that school was finally over so they could join the club. But Jerry, Jerry's gaze was not on the speech bubbles, his gaze was on his fairy princess.

A princess who sat alone on a bench, nibbling on a muesli bar while enjoying the sun. She looked so pretty, a delicate creature, a future queen of the mystical realm of the forest to which he would send his friends in the next campaign.

The break was over, however, and just as they rose, a gust of wind blew and with a shrill scream, Jerry hurried after his fairy princess card that had been blown out of his hand. ,,Come back, my holiness!” he called angrily and saw his fingers close around the card you had snatched out of the air.

Puzzled and cautious, he stopped a few meters away from you, his tousled blonde hair slightly blocking his view as he saw you coming towards him. ,,The fairy princess, future ruler of the realm, an outstandingly pretty card” your words left him speechless as he felt your gentle hand on his for a moment when you returned it to him.

It was only a brief meeting, one that seemed destined to be short-lived, but it was a meeting that would become many. Jerry could always hear his beating heart when he had his elf princess in front of him, her voice reporting cards and the princess finding her prince more attractive than any other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[brawltogethernow]

I dreamt the other night that there was an extremely mid live action Murderbot TV show adaptation. That's not my retroactive assessment in the daytime. In the dream I was like, "This has multiple very avoidable or outright comedic flaws. I am going to binge all of it." (I'm aware that this is very meta.)

It had a "life on a starship" structure in the style of Star Trek, though it may have technically been set on one of the satellites orbiting Preservation.

The core relationship was SecUnit and Mensah, which was executed with absolute sincerity that couldn't not be charming, and was also where a lot of the more narmish moments were centered.

SecUnit would hack devices by focusing on them, cuing the camera to zoom in on the relevant machine—then the zoom in would continue with a transition to aggressively average CGI of the inside of the machine, which would animate it...being hacked or whatever. I got the impression that happened at a pivotal moment at least once an episode.

Some of the canon characters were present and were well-cast and characterized. However, the "crew" had also been padded out with a handful of original side characters. There was a gruff ship's doctor type (more Kelso than Bones though), a cook SecUnit had an arbitrary rivalry with, and for some reason two teenage boys who were BFFs. The cook existed to facilitate interpersonal comedy, the teens to have sci-fi concepts explained to them, and the doctor to solve like a third of the one-off plotlines at the end of the episode once whatever emotional arc they'd been facilitating was concluded. The new characters were almost all played by white guys like after they cast the canon characters thoughtfully and considerately they ran out of energy/wanted to work in people who were already on the lot.

I dream-watched three random episodes, but unfortunately the only one I remember specifically is the last one, where the plot was Murderbot getting amnesia (because of sci-fi reasons) to back when the company owned it before it hacked itself. The emotional climax was it deciding to help Mensah even though it didn't remember their friendship, by disabling a machine that was harming her—which it did by triggering the hacking animation by slamming its hands against it several times. Like you do when you hack stuff. The amnesia was fixed after this by the medical doctor administering a liquid for it to drink that reportedly had nanomachines in it. I'm pretty sure the prop was one of those plastic cups dentists give you stuff to swish around your mouth in with water in it.

Murderbot was played by a tall and gloriously buff...enby woman...? I don't exactly recall. —Who in behind the scenes content had a startlingly sweet demeanor and higher vocal register than the character.

10/10 dream I am laughing my socks off. I miss the fake show.

[prettyboypistol]

Accidental Kisses! || TNG Star Trek x Male!Reader

William Riker

You stumbled down the stairs while he was walking up, Willaim lunged to catch you, which knocked your lips together.

"Oh- are you alright, Lieutenant? You took quite a tumble."

You apologize for stumbling into him and kissing him, to which he smiles and waves it off as an accident. After all, there was no harm in it!

Afterwards, he absentmindedly licks his lips and tastes your chapstick, reminding him of the encounter. His cheeks tinge pink- hopefully his feelings still remain a secret

Worf

As Worf's assistant and Assistant Chief of Security, Worf expected you to be in peak physical condition- this kiss happens while sparring- he tackled you to the ground, and in the struggle, you two share a rough kiss.

Worf pins you down by the neck and arms, which effectively left you prone. He mumbles "That better have been an accident." You nod frantically and he releases you.

Apologized for getting too rough with you- blaming it on reflex more than actual aggression. You apologize for the kiss, which still haunts his sweetest dreams to this day.

Data

You had no idea what the fuck happened. Suddenly, you were saying "hi" to Data in the rec room, then his hands were on your cheeks as he kissed you with a mountain of electricity tingling behind his lips.

"What? the hell?" You manage to sputter out, Data seemed confused.

"Apologies if I startled you. I was giving you an authentic European greeting from Earth. Did you feel appropriately greeted and our relationship assured?"

"Data- I- first of all, not all of Europe kisses to greet, NEXT OF ALL, THEY KISS THE CHEEKS!"

Geordi La Forge

It was a moment of excitement shared between you two- a project you both had spent countless nights on performed without a hitch in front of the investors. After the meeting, you two were so excited and hugging- it just sorta... happened.

"Oh- oh my god- I'm so sorry." Geordi apologized quickly as he recoiled away from the hug. "It was an accident."

"Yeah- we were just excited, totally an accident on both ends." You respond just as quickly as your cheeks burn up.

Q

Alright, this kiss isn't an accident. He's pissing you off by bothing you during your work, begging for you to entertain him. He wants a human experience! He already looks like one in this form! Do something human!

So, you punched him in the gut, then kiss him roughly- tongue invaded his mouth in a way that made his eyes roll back into his skull at the feeling of being properly paid attention to- even more than expected!

Q finally shut up for a good while as he behaved himself- at the promise of more of those. So, he sat down next to your station and waited patiently for you to be done with our work- then he kissed you!

His kiss was- well, it was Q, what did you expect?

[hyuuukais]

⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS

pairing ▪︎ han jisung x fem reader

synopsis ▪︎ sent out on a mission to a neighbouring QZ that's gone radio silent, y/n falls into the hands of a post-rebellion group after things go terribly wrong. giving up on rejoining her squad, she joins the group on a trek to find a missing member, the group leader's sister. what's supposed to be a not-so-simple trip out and back to their base becomes a one-way ticket to the end of everything they know.

warnings ▪︎ general, y/n finally breaking down, also she can't swim cause i can't swim 💔, hyunjin x reader fight from previous chapter mentioned, errm radiohead lyrics jumpscare sorry (but also not cause it's my fic 🤨), errrm idk what else !

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVEN ▪︎ WE ALL HAVE SOMETHING (6.1k)

At least a week has passed since you left that place, only a pile of dead bodies to signify you were ever there. It was too risky to go back to the home Chan and Jeongin were still in, waiting for the rest of you to return, so Felix had radioed them in order to get them ready to move. As the truck was loaded with supplies, Felix had Han carefully flip you onto your back to check the still bleeding wound left by that mans knife. He did what he could, packing the wound and instructing you to stay in that position. You barely registered his words, slipping into sleep.

When you woke, you found yourself on a firm mattress in the basement of a cottage. Pain shot through your body every time you tried moving, and you imagined that's how Chan felt after the hospital. Your sympathy for him rose, and so did your impatience to get back to normal.

Today, you're finally able to sit upright, legs hanging over the edge of the bed as you stare blankly through the doorway. Your back aches, but Felix says it's healing nicely, that you're lucky there isn't much real damage. You don't feel lucky. You feel nothing. All those years in the QZ mastering the art of hiding emotion came in handy, but you would give anything right now just to feel something. You sigh heavily, trying to release the weight on your chest. But today is different, because you can finally sit upright on the edge of the bed.

Tears prickle at your eyes and you look down to where your hands sit in your lap, cradling your necklace. You took it off when no one was with you, keeping it in a drawer in the bedside nightstand. The metal charm is cold in your hand as you close it in a fist; looking at it for so long brings you back too far. Thoughts of before flood your mind, thoughts of Minho and the way he found the charm for you after you asked him about his own one night, a singular cat paw hanging down from his neck.

"Ah, this," He took the charm in his fingers, the metal glinting in the campfire light. "My mother gave it to me before she turned."

"Oh." You were only eight, leaning against Minhos arm in the middle of an abandoned campsite.

Unlike you, Minho had lived with his mom until he was about your age when he found you, then she turned after their camp was attacked. He found you a few years later, wandering the streets of a small town looking for shelter. You were just a small child, the age of seven, left alone to fend for yourself. It wasn't intentional- you'd been curious about a path in the woods and found yourself lost quickly. When you ran into Minho, you were trembling from hunger and on the brink of passing out from exhaustion. He took you into his arms and broke into the closest house, taking out some kind of canned food for you to eat. Ever since then, you were inseparable.

That is, until now.

Now, you're unlikely to ever see him again outside of dreams and memories. As you place the necklace back around your neck, you can feel something. It starts small, the hiccups and the burn in your throat, the way the prickling behind your eyes grows stronger; you can't breathe through your nose anymore. Salty tears drip down your face, down your neck, onto your hands in your lap. No one is around to hear you, so you let go, curling into yourself as your sobs rip from your body painfully. You can't even stay on the bed, slipping down to the carpeted floor with a hand clutching your heart as everything comes out at once. The pain of missing Minho, accepting what happened at the diner- you didn't let yourself truly feel fear there, thinking you would die one way or another, that it didn't matter how you felt in the moment. Waves of anguish flow through your body like a viral disease; you need to let it run its course.

You don't hear the knock on the door frame or see the way Chan leans against it, watching as you give into yourself. It's not until he's sitting next to you with an arm wrapping around your shoulders that you acknowledge him, face burying into his neck and your free hand being held by his. He whispers words you can't make out into your hair, running smooth circles in between your shoulder blades until you start to calm down, coughing and sniffling and breathing so heavily. Eventually, the room is near quiet again, only the occasional sniffle to be heard.

"Did I ever tell you about when Hannah went missing?" You look up at Chan, shaking your head. He's not looking at you when he continues, but at your clasped hands, giving you a squeeze. "I looked a lot like you after a few days. I was..."

"A complete and total mess?" You offer, and he gives a breathy laugh.

"Exactly. A complete and total mess. I locked myself in that house for what felt like forever." Chan sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "We were out in a nearby town looking for things like canned food and medical supplies, run of the mill stuff. She was practically begging me to let her explore the local art gallery, but I was so against it. Of course, she didn't listen to me and went off on her own when enough of us were distracted. If I had only-" Chan clears his throat, blinks a few times. "If I had only said yes, gone with her, she'd still be with us."

"What do you mean?" You're more upright now, but still leaning into his shoulder.

"The place was filled with infected," He starts, and you feel your stomach drop. "As soon as we noticed she was missing, that was the first place we looked. As we got closer, we heard her screaming for help. Jisung helped me get the door open and we saw she had climbed on top of a sculpture, but the infected were somehow making their way up to her. And after one wrong move in trying to stay up, she fell- right into the arms of this person that we hadn't even noticed."

The regret and pain in Chan's voice are enough to make you look away from him, now your turn to give a reassuring squeeze to his hand. Silence hangs heavily in the room for a few moments before he begins talking again.

"All the infected were trained on us after that, only a few stragglers going after the two of them. The horde was too thick to get through, but we took most of them out before having to fall back out the way we came from." His head drops down, lips quivering. "I- when we- ugh, sorry."

"Don't apologize." You bring your free hand to his cheek, turning his head to face you. "You don't need to continue if you don't want to."

"I do," He says, voice wet, cheeks wet. "I do. We, um, we circled around to the back where we assumed they took her out from, but only got there in time to see a large van drive off. Our own vehicle was too far at the time, we never had a chance of catching up. Hannah meant- means, a lot to all of us, so I tried to be strong for the rest of the group. A few days after getting back to town, I found a note she had written."

He takes his hand from yours, reaching into the pocket of his jeans to reveal a tired, leather wallet. When he opens it, you see the only thing inside is a folded-up piece of lined paper. Chan takes it out carefully, letting you read it over his shoulder.

Chan, Chris, whatever.

Thanks for finding me a guitar! You're the best big brother ever, but you didn't hear that from me. In fact, burn this after reading, I don't need anyone thinking I've gone soft for you.

Here are some lyrics I've begun (probably not the beginning of a song, maybe somewhere in the middle? I don't know):

Breathe, keep breathing. Don't lose your nerve.

Breathe, keep

The paper is ripped, cutting off the rest of the lyrics. When you're done reading, you look back to Chan, but he's still focused on the paper, his face red and scrunched up. You tuck some hair away from his face as he breaks down, gasping and wiping his eyes. He clears his throat again, tucking the paper back into the wallet, the wallet back into his jeans.

"I pull that out when I start to lose touch, when I start to think things are becoming hopeless." His voice quiets. "When I start to give up. She gives me those things back, grounds me, you know?"

Your fingers find the charm around your neck. "I know."

"Now that I know Hannah is still out there, I'd give anything to find her. Sometimes it scares me." Chan finally looks at you again, eyes watery. "We all have something that scares us, and we all have something to give us hope. Find it, Y/n, and don't give up. We need you."

Something in his voice, in his words, in the feeling of his body close to yours, has you breaking down again. You both sit here for a while, comforting each other by just being close and providing a safe space to let it all out. Once your eyes run dry, Chan stands and offers you a hand. You take it, following him through the basement doors to the backyard on slightly unsteady feet. There's a pathway from where the glass double doors are jammed open down to a fire pit, a small set of stone steps leading further down to the water. It's overcast and smells like rain, but you can see almost everyone out in the water. The sight is enough for you to tear up again, seeing them have fun and have just one day where they can be careless, not worrying about if they'll make it through the night.

Hyunjin is sitting on a cushioned metal swing on a porch that hangs slightly over a sandy area, the water not quite coming up the shore. He's sitting with Felix, who's chest is free of a shirt, but not free of sand grains covering his skin. His wet hair is tucked behind his ears; it's getting long, he looks good this way. They're lost in conversation, not paying attention to Jeongin and Chaeryeong essentially trying to drown each other by the looks of it, or Han, who's floating closer to the dock where Seungmin is sitting with his legs in the water. Nobody notices you and Chan standing from afar, watching with a heaviness in each of your chests.

"Go, have fun," Chan pushes you forward gently. "I'm gonna start prepping the campfire for dinner. I found some things we can eat in a storage room inside."

"I can stay and help-"

"No," He says firmly, shaking his head. "Hyunjin and I can't go in, doctors orders, but you can go join them and you should. Lix told me you should be okay since your wound has healed nicely. Enjoy it for me, yeah?"

You groan, barely containing a smile. "Fine."

"Y/n!" Chaeryeong squeals as you walk to the edge of the porch, avoiding eye contact with Hyunjin. "Come join us!"

"That was the plan." You laugh.

Stripping off your pants and socks, you carefully hop down onto the wet sand. Warm water touches your toes as you slowly descend, a small smile gracing your features. It feels nice.

"You should take your shirt off since it's your only one," Chaeryeong suggests and you blush. "The water temperature is amazing out here once you get used to it, so don't worry about being cold!"

You bring your hands to the bottom of your shirt, hesitating as you begin to lift it up. At just below your belly button, you stop completely, gripping your shirt tightly. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it is to you. Taking your shirt off means revealing the ugly bruises littering your body, the nasty scar across your ribs from when you were a child. There isn't much of a story, one similar enough to a lot of people you've met before. A zombie attacked you and left you with a permanent mark, only you've been able to hide the jagged, rough skin from sight. It healed terribly from the lack of proper medical attention, only a twelve-year-old Minho with no training to try and stop the bleeding, stitch up the wound, and keep it clean as you slipped in and out of consciousness. Soon after, he ran into someone from the quarantine zone who tried to take him with them, but he kicked and screamed until they understood there was someone else; you, alone in a cold garage, on the brink of death.

You think nobody notices your pause, much too focused on themselves and the water, but then somebody is standing beside you in the soft sand, an arm reaching behind you to grab a piece of green fabric. Watching as Han shoves his shirt back over his wet body, catching a glimpse of his small waist and bare golden skin in the process, your hands let go of the hem of your shirt.

"Chaeryeong is lying," Han says, then raises his voice loud enough for the others to hear. "The water is fucking freezing!"

Laughing, Jeongin tries to splash him where he stands, but the younger boy is too far away and it barely hits Han's ankles. Shaking your head, you look up at Han, who is standing entirely too close to you, but you find you don't mind. After what you experienced together, you don't view him like you did before; immature, kind of annoying, cocky. You see now that's how Jisung protects himself, by portraying himself as funny and unserious, to try and lighten the mood. You all have your armour, and he wears his better than you do yours.

"I'm not lying! Don't believe him!" Chaeryeong whines, but is soon distracted by some bugs skipping past her over the water. "Woah, Jeongin, look."

"She's right." You talk quietly, a shy smile on your face and you can't look Han in the eye. "I can feel the water on my feet, it really isn't cold."

"Yes, it is," He insists, taking your hand in his and walking backward. You look at him now, see the way his hair falls into his eyes and swoops up at the back, at his honey complexion shining in the vibrant light of the sunset to your left, his eyes teasing, but soft. "It's really, really cold. Keeping your shirt on is the smart decision."

"Okay." You whisper, letting him bring you in waist-deep before he lets go and maneuvers onto his back. "Wait."

Han cranes his neck up to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

"I- oh, this is so stupid," You say, hiding your face in your hands. "I can't swim, at least, not well. Going into deeper water freaks me out."

With your face still hidden, you can hear Han returning to your side. Wet hands bring yours down, big brown eyes staring into yours. "That's okay, you have a human-sized floating device right here! And we'll only go as far as that dock, okay?"

Smiling, he steps aside and points to a floating piece of wood not too far from where you're standing in the water. Then, he's back in front of you with his back facing you, reaching back to wrap your hands around his shoulders. You're holding on for dear life when he kicks out, somehow more scared than you are when fighting actual literal undead beings. What should be a walk in the park, and is for most people, makes your throat hot and tight. You want to nuzzle your face into Han's neck, but you know if you try that you'll just end up waterboarding yourself, which is more embarrassing than anything else that's happened since you've woken up.

The wood shifts under your weight and for a second, you think you'll fall over the edge when Han lets go of your body, but you don't. He sits on a different ledge, encouraging you with a nod to join him on that side, so you do. From here, you can see the sun setting behind the tree line, oranges and pinks and yellows painting a beautiful picture for you. To your left, you see bodies in the water and recognize them as more than just people you're surviving with, but as people you've grown to really care about. And maybe you're a little hopeful, but you think they've grown to care about you too.

Han traces light fingers over the tendons in your hand, over your knuckles, up your wrist. You think he's doing it subconsciously, but then his fingers intertwine with your own and he's sighing with a small smile on his face, and his eyes are closed, and his wet hair sticks to his forehead, and you can't look away, and he's the most beautiful person you've ever seen, and-

"You're staring." You blush, but the way his eyes look down at your lips then back to your eyes doesn't go unnoticed.

"I couldn't help it," You admit. Something in the way he's staring at you has your heart about to leap out of your chest, thumping hard and loud, and you wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it too. The blood rushing in your ears, the way your skin prickles where he's touched you; you've never felt like this before, not even with Hyunjin.

Finally breaking the stare, Han clears his throat and lets go of your hand; you're a tad bit disappointed at the loss of contact. "Chan found some canned food in a storage room in the basement, so we were thinking of having a campfire tonight. There's also stale marshmallows and I heard that people before the apocalypse would make these things called 'smores', but we don't have the stuff to make them."

"Yeah, I've had those-" You start, but are interrupted by an almost offended sound.

"You've had them?" Hans neck nearly snaps with the speed his head turns to you.

"Um, yeah." Why are you getting shy? "With Minho in the QZ. When he became a squad leader, he got some privileges we didn't, like access to the kitchens after hours. He told me about all the things they kept for themselves as we snuck out that night, contraband chocolate and graham crackers stuffed deep into out coat pockets."

You laugh at the memory, the stuttered excuse Minho had made when a soldier caught you both trying to leave stealthily. Luckily they'd trained together, and the soldier waved you both away with a suggestive smirk that made your cheeks go red. You think that might have been when the rumours started; you and Minho fell in love through all the trauma you went through together, that the only real place of comfort you had was each other. Only part of that is true- was true. He didn't bring you far that night, just outside of the patrol routes to a small, wooden shack of sorts in the woods. The snack was tasty, and the fire warm, but not as warm as the feeling in your stomach as you rested your head against Minho's shoulder in the night, his arm secure around you.

"Y/n?" Minho whispered, thinking you had fallen asleep; you didn't, but you were too tired to mutter any kind of response back. "Jagiya, I need to tell you something... maybe it's better to say it now and just have it out in the open." He sighs, and it's a while before he talks again. "You saved my life. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't found you, where I would be. Certainly not here, I hate this place and the things they do and cover up. But you needed help, and I couldn't let you die. I stay here for you, do you know that?"

The night is quiet, save for your breathing and the sound of crickets and other bugs, but Minho's mind is loud and racing and he can't help but confess everything to you. How he couldn't imagine life without you, how you mean the world- no, the universe to him. The way he didn't think he'd even still be here if you hadn't come along, whether by the nature of the world now or by his own hands. Saying all these things thinking you'd drifted off, but you were more awake than ever.

"What do you think happened to him?" Han's voice brings you back, and you notice the way the night has taken over. "Minho. Since he lied for us."

"They value him a lot there, so I doubt there were any real repercussions as long as he kept up the act." Looking into the dark water and seeing the way your legs disappear, you shiver. "Can we go back to the others now?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course. Are you cold?" Han rubs his hands up and down your arms and you snort. "Why are you laughing? The water is gonna be colder than earlier and you're still recovering, I don't want you to get sick."

Right. Recovering. Time with Han had let you briefly forget all the shit that happened, existing in the moment with someone who didn't look at you like someone who might break any second. You saw the way their eyes lingered on you when you walked past into the water, the way Hyunjin and Jeongin tried not to stare as you struggled to take your shirt off. Even Chan as he let you walk away to the others, worry etched in his face.

"I'm fine." You grumble, opting to get in the water before he could say anything else. Struggling to keep your head above water, you only make it so far until he's caught up, trying to get you onto his back again. "I'm not a baby! Let me do this!"

"No, you're not a baby, but you're also not a strong swimmer." Han says, still trying to grab your arms.

Ignoring his comment, you continue to splash your way to the dock, but your arms and legs are getting tired quick. You stop for a moment, struggling to take a breath, and notice how damp your face has gotten. Assuming it's just the water, or maybe sweat, you're confused when Han is in front of you with a concerned look on his face. That's when you realize you're crying- again. And the realization makes you cry harder, upset with yourself for becoming so soft, for breaking down over and over and over again, for letting yourself be vulnerable in front of others.

"Hey, hey, hey." Han is wrapping his arms around you, keeping you from letting yourself sink. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Everything is so stupid-" You choke out, cold arms reaching around his neck to stay afloat. As you keep talking, he slowly starts moving your bodies back to land. "Recovery is stupid, feeling sad is stupid, getting hurt over dumb words is stupid."

"Why is it stupid to be human?" He asks softly.

Hans words sit between you, and you don't know what to say.

"Y/n?" Han only stops for a moment, focusing entirely on you.

"I shouldn't feel this way." You say. "I should be back on my feet and not dwelling on some accident that happened. This world doesn't let you do that."

"So make it do that," Han says, like it's the most obvious answer in the entire world. "We all have our moments. Yeah, we can't always stop and let it take over, but we have to let ourselves feel it eventually or that's what's gonna kill us in the end." He shakes his head and begins to move again. "Not zombies, not the military, but ourselves. We're all zombies already in a way, eating away at ourselves in the name of self-preservation."

"That is definitely one way to put it." You laugh. "But I think I get what you mean."

Sand grazes your toes and you detach from Han, hopping back up to the dock and helping him up. Your shirts are soaked and heavy as they hang from your bodies, sticking to your skin uncomfortably.

"Y/n!" Chaeryeong comes jogging up to your side with two things in her hands. "I got you a towel and a fresh sweater. There are closets full of clothes in there if this doesn't fit. Check this out-" she does a spin to show you the back of her grey shirt, stark white angel wings on the other side.

"Oh, you're a cool girl now!" You take the things from her, giggling. "Thank's Chaerry."

"No problem." She smiles, then looks at Han. "Sorry, I didn't think to grab you something..."

"Eh, I can dry by the fire." He shrugs.

With a final nod, Chaeryeong returns to the fire Chan has started- if you can call it that yet. There are just a few pieces of wood barely smoking in the pit. Han shifts in front of you, blocking your view of the others. When you look up at him, he's straining his neck in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing?" You ask, giving him a weird look.

"Blocking the others from seeing you change." He answers with his head still turned away; that must be painful.

"Oh," is all you can say, an ache in your chest at his words.

It doesn't take long for you to discard your wet shirt, tossing it to the side with a schlap. Tapping on Han's chest to signal you're done, he turns his head back too soon and whimpers in pain, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You didn't have to do that, I could have gone inside." You say, reaching up to replace his hand with yours, massaging his neck. He's close; you can feel his breath on your cheek.

"I know," He says, and once you're done soothing his pain, you walk to the fire that's actually a fire now, and join the others.

"And then, get this, he threatened me! Me! Can you believe that?" Hyunjin is scoffing, hand in the air.

"Yes, actually, I can get how the guy whose gun you stole threatened you," Seungmin points out.

"But I didn't-"

"No, you just let it get stolen by your best friend-"

"Enough! Enough, please don't start an argument when I'm trying to cook us a nice dinner to enjoy on a nice night where we can actually have a nice time." Chan groans.

For a moment, no one talks, but then Seungmin leans over to Hyunjin. "How many times do you think he can say nice in one sentence?"

"Poor guy, old age is making him forget his vocabulary." Hyunjin says with a fake, sad sigh.

"I was going to say the same thing," Seungmin laughs quietly.

You sit next to Seungmin in an empty lawn chair, Han sitting across from you next to Chan. Chaeryeong is already falling asleep on your other side, Felix and Jeongin off in their own world next to her. Listening to Hyunjin and Seungmin bicker as you eat gives you a strange sense of normalcy, like two siblings on a family vacation to their cottage. As you place your plate on the pile by Chan's feet, you make eye contact with Han, who is placing his down too. He retracts his arm, letting you place yours first, and you smile at him. Reaching behind his leg, you watch Chan bring out the stale marshmallows Han had mentioned before as you sit back down.

Everyone is silent as they roast them over the fire, some blankets that Chan had ready being passed around. When you go to throw the other half of yours over Chaeryeong, you notice her pouting and her glossy eyes.

"Chaerry?" You nudge her arm gently and she appears to zone back in, a single tear dropping from her eye.

"Hannah would have loved this." She whispers, but it's heard by the rest in the quiet night.

Instinctively, you look at Chan, but his eyes are focused on Chaeryeong, lips pressed tightly together. He closes the bag. "She would have, you're right. Let's save some for when we get her back, yeah?"

No one speaks as he ties the bag closed. You accidentally burnt your little ball of sugar, but eat it anyway; it feels almost disrespectful not to. Jeongin is the first to go, excusing himself to bed. He's followed by Seungmin, then Felix, then Chaeryeong. The silence between you, Chan, Han, and Hyunjin has returned to comfortable, sleepy energy surrounding you. Finally, Chan and Han both head inside, leaving you alone with Hyunjin. Thinking it'll become awkward, you're about to head inside yourself.

"I'm sorry for what I said." Hyunjin says, the ghost of a pout on his lips. "I didn't mean it, I was just angry."

"I get it," You lie.

Hyunjin looks at you, really looks at you, and he's still as pretty as ever. The firelight glows against his skin, and you can see every little detail including your favourite, the mole under his eye. You can't count how many times you placed a soft kiss right there, whispering into his skin how unique it was.

"No, you don't." He says. "I called you a liability, who does that?"

"You?" You try to joke, but it doesn't land. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Hyunjin switches to the seat next to you that Seungmin abandoned. "Listen, no one here is doubting you. Nobody. Not even Han-" He cuts himself off, head turning away but eyes staying on you. "...what's going on between you guys?"

"What?" Your eyes widen and you sit up, at a loss for words.

"We've all seen you guys acting like lovebirds all of a sudden! Did it really only take some life endangerment to finally work up the courage to ask you out?" You're more confused than ever, and Hyunjin can tell he said more than he should have. "Forget I said that..."

"Yeah, I think I will." You laugh. Han, liking you? As in romantically? Han Jisung? You? Please. "Anyway, what you said is in the past. It doesn't matter now."

"What? It does matter," Hyunjin sits up in his chair, leaning his arm onto your chair. "Of course, it matters. Why would you say that it doesn't?"

"Because, I don't know... after the whole getting kidnapped by zombie-eating humans thing, hanging onto stuff like that seems unimportant." Hyunjin doesn't speak, just keeps looking at you with sad eyes, flickering fire reflecting in the dark of his iris. "You don't agree."

"No, I don't," He sighs. "My words hurt you and caused that whole fucking mess, so yeah, I don't agree one bit. You can't compare your physical and emotional pain, okay? Once you start doing that, you'll lose yourself, and we can't have you gone Y/n. We can't."

"Why do you care so much?"

He scoffs, actually scoffs, and you're confused. "You've become so important to our little family, you have no idea."

"But you said-" He cuts you off.

"Forget what I said!" Hyunjin clasps your closest hand in his. "I was angry, I wasn't thinking. Obviously, there was some truth in it, but only if we go back in time to when you were lying unconscious with a broken leg and we didn't know what would happen. None of us think that way about you anymore, no doubts or worries about whether you can handle yourself. If something happened to you, none of us would be okay. Me included. I still care about you, a lot."

The burning feeling behind your eyes has returned for the third time that night, but maybe it's what you need. To let yourself be seen by the others, truly, completely seen. Not the you who you present, who you act as, but the authentic you. Starting with Chan, then Han, now Hyunjin. One by one, you're beginning to learn what it's like to let people in.

"Can we go to bed now?" You whisper, holding his gaze.

"Of course." He brings your hand up to his lips, leaving a soft kiss there before helping you out of your chair.

Wincing, you clutch your side where the worst of the bruising is, holding onto Hyunjin with your other hand. Pain throbs underneath your fingers, somehow sharp and dull at the same time. When you try to move, the pain worsens. You must have overexerted yourself in the water, and now it's catching up to you.

"Here," Hyunjin guides your hands around his neck. "On three, you jump. One... two... three."

You do as he says, wrapping your legs around his waist, and you feel his arm come around your lower back to keep you secure. He starts walking and you can already feel sleep taking you, burying your head into his neck. The next thing you feel is the firm mattress under your body and the warmth of Hyunjin's chest.

"I enjoyed our time together," You say sleepily, angling your head up to look at Hyunjin with closed eyes, too heavy to open again.

"Me too," He presses a kiss to your forehead. "Me too, Y/n."

"We weren't made for each other, were we?" But you already know the answer.

"No," Hyunjin whispers. "Not like that. But we were- are, meant to be here together, with each other. I love you, you know that, right?"

"I love you too."

Your heart is racing with the confession, words you've only ever uttered a few times in your life. To your parents, before they died, to Minho, Seungmin. Yet you know you'd tell the rest you loved them if they were in this room with you two, too sleepy to hold back your emotions.

-

Crrk... crrrrrrkk... crrrrkk...

"What is that?"

Seungmin catches your eye from where he's sitting on the floor, hands feeling over the rough, matted carpet. You're standing right outside the bedroom where Hyunjin lies still asleep, door shut softly behind you. A strange crackling noise was enough to wake you, venturing out to the open space beyond your door. What you didn't expect to see was Seungmin already investigating, starting to pick at the carpet where it appeared to be cut in a square shape.

"There's a keyhole," Seungmin says. "But no key."

"A keyhole?" You walk over to him and lean over his crouched body to inspect the floor, and there is, in fact, a keyhole. It's embedded into the floor, just barely covered by the carpet fibers. Although there was no key, that was no problem. "Move over."

"Bossy," Seungmin comments, but shifts over.

Taking a bobby pin out of your hair, you begin to pick the lock. It's a skill you learned from Minho before the QZ, one you used often to sneak into the kitchens late at night. You're thankful he taught you what he did, otherwise you wouldn't be looking down a dark hole in the ground now, a dim light coming from somewhere beyond your sight.

"You coming?" Seungmin asks as he descends down a grungy, metal ladder. It creaks as he makes his way down, threatening to break from the wall. You wait until he's on the ground to climb down yourself.

The space is small, only meant for one or two people you assume. Directly behind you is a table secured to the wall, papers, pencils, and various scraps splayed across, but one thing stands out.

"Is that-" You gasp.

"It is." Seungmin confirms.

A radio- small, but still working when Seungmin flips a switch. It crackles to life, but doesn't last long; you frown at the machine.

"Here," Seungmin is under the table fiddling with some wires. "Something got unplugged."

When it turns back on, you lean against the table and watch Seungmin sit, playing with the dials and whatever else he feels like. You never quite understood how he worked his magic with these small machines.

"And- crrkk- but you didn't hear that- crrrrrrk-"

"Almost..." Seungmin mutters to himself.

"Anyway, for those tuning in for the first time-"

"Aha!" Seungmin tries to suppress his smile as he leans back in the rickety old chair, listening to the broadcast.

"I'm your host, Cadet Seo Changbin. Welcome to Military On The Road!"

Your head whips toward Seungmin, speaking at the same time. "Changbin?!"

▪︎▪︎▪︎

notes ▪︎ BINNIE !!!!!!!!!

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @manuosorioh @hanjisunglover @xxstrayland @puppyminnnie @hanjsquokka @kpopsstuffs @ot8girlfie @quokkabite @linoslawayslinos @reapers-lover @hannieslittlerockstar @kiki0113 @nishiriks @nxtt2-u @moonlightjam @hannieslovebot @minmininnie @8lives1heart @skzswife @emi-han @alisonyus

green means i can't tag you!

[ilovetheriddler]

Ooooh! I would love a little fluffy something with my space husband Data!!

Uhhhh ummm maybe bedtime??? He doesn’t need to sleep but I do!!

💚💚💚💚

I love this idea! Yes!!! Finally, some data fics! I hope data is in character enough, I tried to make sure that i didn't write him using any contractions, since he usually doesn't if i recall correctly? It's been a bit since I last watched TNG, I need to rewatch it again soon.... anyway, I hope that you enjoy it!

Do you dream?

(Star Trek) Data x F!Reader.

Word Count: 520.

Contents: Fluff! Bedtime Snuggles and Cuddles!

You let out an exhausted huff as you laid down. It was a fairly usual day on the enterprise, but man, were you tired. Data stared at you silently for a few moments, contemplating his next words.

"....I am not sure as to why you needed me to be here?"

"Because you're my boyfriend, is it so strange to want to snuggle with you while I fall asleep?"

A look of brief contemplation crossed Data's face before he seemingly accepts your reasoning for desiring his comfort.

"I suppose that is a within reason excuse as to why you would, but I must ask, do you consider me to be a good lover?"

"Oh, um... yeah? Why wouldn't I? I wouldn't be with you if I didn't think you were great!"

"...I see, very well then, I am glad that you enjoy my company."

You couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the unique and particular way that Data spoke and phrased his overall sentences. You found it to be quite endearing. He carefully went about getting into your bed next to you, pulling the covers over the both of you despite the fact that he wouldn't be sleeping himself.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to rest against his chest. As you laid there, snuggling your face against the front of his uniform, a simple question popped into your head that left you curious.

"I've been wondering for a while now. Are you capable of dreaming?"

Data was quiet for a moment, giving your question a lot of thought and consideration before forming an answer to it.

"I am incapable of dreaming in the traditional sense, however i am able to review my memory banks whenever I put myself into a brief rest mode for diagnostics tests, so perhaps that could be considered a type of dreaming in itself?"

"Hmm.... that's actually really interesting."

After another moment of silence, he spoke up, inquiring about what you dream of.

"If you do not mind me asking, what do you dream of when you are asleep? Do you remember them, or are they more fleeting and forgettable?"

"Umm... let me think.... I guess most of them aren't really too memorable, but i do occasionally dream of you.... usually of us getting married.... to be entirely honest..."

He seemed a bit surprised at your answer. You often dreamed of marrying him? How intriguing. Data shifted his hold on you, moving one of his hands to rest on your cheek, resting there gently.

"....I do not understand why you would wish to marry me, i think it would objectively be better if you married someone capable of actually... feeling love and passion for you."

"Don't be ridiculous Data! You feel more than enough love and passion for me to be happy! It doesn't matter if you don't experience or feel emotions in the traditional way. I truly believe that you just... experience them in your own way, and that's perfectly fine and one of the reasons why I love you so much!"

"... I am... very content with the fact that you feel that way...:

[strawberrygummiess]

the nutcracker.

chpt. 2 | chapter 3: waltz of the snowflakes the nutcracker x reader heartslabyul x reader 2.6k words cross-posted on ao3 "You cup your hands around your mouth and puff hot air into them. You notice the bed of your fingernails are turning purple. “What gives? It wasn’t cold when we got here!” “Hmm…” He looks around. “The Pixies must know we’re here now. They’re welcoming us with fresh snow for winter.” On cue, it begins to snow. It starts light, a few snowflakes landing delicately on your nose. The snow made the forest glow beautifully, snowflakes shining like stars in the blue light. If you weren’t so cold, you would fall back into the pillowy ground and soak up the snow. Instead, you shivered in The Nutcracker's grasp, watching the landscape dramatically change. "

You didn’t know what to expect after you crossed through the mirror.

Truthfully you didn’t think you would go through the mirror at all. You figured you’d push your hands into the solid glass and wake up from this strange dream. And yet when you pressed your hand against the glass, your fingers slowly inched forward, moving through like water. And then, when you brought your whole body through, you were in a completely different world. Gone was your room in Ramshackle. Now you stood in ankle-deep snow surrounded by trees that almost shone blue in the light.

Despite standing in the snow, you didn’t feel cold. You were still in your pajamas, (and you had quickly thrown on a pair of real shoes before leaving.) but even in a weather-inappropriate outfit, no chill or ice fills the air, feeling more like a spring day.

You walked alongside the Nutcracker, sneaking glances at his profile. His gaze was focused and determined, as it was during the mouse battle. He moved robotically, one side lifting awkwardly when he took a step. It looked unnatural for him to walk, and you couldn’t decide if it was because he just came alive, or if he was trapped in a nutcracker’s body.

You didn’t even know his name. The last time you asked, he avoided the question. And based on his quiet demeanor, he would never tell you of his own volition. Conversation starters flew through your mind: “So, you never answered me earlier- who are you?”; “Why does everyone here look vaguely familiar?”; “Has this place always been in my mirror? Do you happen to know a nice mouse named Mickey?” You sigh, shaking your head defeatedly. None of these questions would warrant a satisfying answer from him- he’d shut down as soon as you pried too much for his liking. You were no closer to understanding him, or the land he was taking you through.

While you were walking, the weather began to shift. Slowly the air got cooler until you were shivering and watching your breath puff out before you. The snow got tougher to move through, the ice melting through your shoes and soaking your feet uncomfortably.

“Why did it get so cold suddenly?” you huff, clutching and rubbing your arms. You’re regretting not bringing a coat with you. You sniffled miserably, nose running and dribbling due to the wind.

You glanced at the Nutcracker. Besides his awkward gait, he seemed to pay no mind to the sudden freezing temperature, wooden eyes still cast forward. If he heard you, he made no indication that he did, ignoring your question to trek forward. You purse your lips, annoyed. Maybe he didn’t want to answer personal questions, but writing you off completely was irritating.

“Hey,” you prompted, touching his arm. Despite the frigid air, the wood was still warm. You let your hand linger on his shoulder, indulging in the small bit of warmth in the freezing forest. “I don’t know if I can keep moving through this, I don’t have the right clothes, and it's freezing,”

The Nutcracker turns his head towards you, eyes cast downwards at your hand on his shoulder. He hesitates for a second, as if not expecting you to touch him before he finally looks at your face.

You must be in worse shape than you thought because his eyes widen in shock at the state of you. For all you know, you’ve turned into a walking icicle.

“Your lips are blue. Are they supposed to do that?” The Nutcracker moves your hand from his arm and cradles you into his chest, attempting to warm you up like he already knows the answer. The wood is slowly getting colder, but you greedily take whatever warmth is left, pressing your cheek into his chest.

“No!” You cry cupping your hands around your mouth and puffing hot air into them. You notice the bed of your fingernails are turning purple. “What gives? It wasn’t cold when we got here!”

“Hmm…” He looks around. “The Pixies must know we’re here now. They’re welcoming us with fresh snow for winter.”

On cue, it begins to snow. It starts light, a few snowflakes landing delicately on your nose. The snow made the forest glow beautifully, snowflakes shining like stars in the blue light. If you weren’t so cold, you would fall back into the pillowy ground and soak up the snow. Instead, you shivered in The Nutcracker's grasp, watching the landscape dramatically change.

“The Pixies…?” you ask, watching the trees as the branches frost at the tips. It looked like dew; crystal clear drips gracing each branch. Most of the trees in the forest were bare, leaves long dead due to the winter air, but the ice acted like fresh leaves, weighing the branches down until they bowed to the ground.

“The Snow Pixies to be exact… they’ll go dormant once winter ends, but until then…” The Nutcracker looks up, extending an arm into the sky as if inviting snowflakes into his hand.

After a second, he brings his arm down to your eye level. In his hand, is a little blue pixie.

“Oh!” you gasp in shock. A boy, as tall as the Nutcracker’s hand, beamed at you, a lazy glint in his eye. He was multiple shades of blue: his skin was almost white, a tinted sky blue that contrasted against his royal blue hair. Under his right eye was a snowflake tattoo, a deep warm blue that popped against his skin.

That definitely felt familiar.

“Hello there,” you greet, leaning in closer. He flutters his wings at you, giving you a boyish grin as he flutters up from the Nutcracker’s hand to get even closer to your face. “Are you the one making it so cold?”

His laugh rings out clearly; little jingles like a bell, as he presses a hand against your nose. He’s so cold he burns, and the action shocks another gasp from your lips. He laughs again and presses his face into your cheek, and to your surprise, it’s much warmer than his hand. His kisses shock your skin, the switch from frigid to scalding, and you huff again.

“If you are, I don’t appreciate it. I nearly froze to death out here,”

The pixie jingles again, pressing a hand to your face as a warning, before pressing apology kisses above your brow. Eventually, once he’s done one side of your face, he pulls back and sighs dramatically, draping his body on your shoulder in exhaustion.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you move him to your hand (noticeably smaller than the Nutcracker’s) and bring him up to your ear. “Are you tired?”

“Very!” He squeaks. You grin excitedly, happy to be able to hear him. “You’re huge!”

 You frown. Maybe his silence was a blessing.

“Could you help me? We’re trying to find the Sugar Plum Fairy, but I can’t find them if I freeze out here. Could you call your friends to help warm me up?” You ask, already feeling the chill return to the left side of your face.

“Ugh, actually,” he says sheepishly. “I’m not on good terms with my liege, currently. Don’t know how open he is to helping visitors right now,” he laughs again, bells ringing in your ears. “You might be all out of luck little human,”

The Nutcracker grabs the pixie quickly, lifting him by the wings in his wooden hand. “That will not do. Call upon any Snow Pixie you can find and tell them I sent for them.” He lectures.

They converse for a second, the pixie ringing in disagreement before finally fluttering off in a huff, leaving a trail of blue snowflakes lingering in the air. You don’t know how the Nutcracker could hear him- especially with wooden ears. You attribute it to his affinity for magic. Either way, you are left in the cold again with your Nutcracker.

“Is he getting help?” You ask, looking up at him. He nods, watching the pixie until his glow fades into the distance. “Good… I hope he comes back soon,”

--

You don’t know how long you were left alone in the snow. You’re shivering again, leaning into the Nutcracker, desperate for warmth. He holds you princess-style, lifting your feet from the snow to keep them dry. You feel weak, eyes struggling to stay open as your body succumbs to the winter chill.

“So much for a welcome,” you mumble—the Nutcracker hums in agreement, pulling you tightly to his chest. “It’s more like a farewell,”

“Silence that talk at once,” The Nutcracker hisses. “You must stay alive for your cat,”

You sigh pitifully. Grim. Of course. You have to find Grim. You have to go home. But you’re so cold. And so tired. You could close your eyes- for just a second, and take a small nap before the pixies return.

Little jingles make you drowsily open your eyes. The little pixie boy is back, fluttering around your face, saying something you can’t understand. He says something else, but you shake your head.

“I can’t hear you when you’re that far away. Come closer to my ear,” your hands shake as you point to the side of your head. You hear the fluttering of his wings when he gets closer, and the tickle of his body as he settles on the side of your head, leaning over to talk into your ear.

“Hey! Shapen up! I brought you my Queen, so show some respect!” He cries into your ear. You look around and find a sky full of blue lights, glittering and jingling like stars and bells. The sound is magical, ringing out into the forest in a melody unfamiliar to your ears, but beautiful, nonetheless.

“Oh. Thank you,” You say, watching a group of pixies fly towards you. “I must apologize, Your Majesty, but I am inappropriately dressed for your gifts,”

They jingle in response, and you smile, not understanding.

“You broke Rule 457 with your attire! It clearly states that on Saturday mornings, humans must wear pink-striped pajamas and a green plaid peacoat when visiting the Forest of Fir! You must study the laws of the land before you visit!” The Queen squeaks- so loud you can hear him despite his distance from your ear. He flutters close to your face- to the displeasure of his retainers, who struggle to follow him at his speed. He’s smaller than the other pixies, but his size doesn’t stop his poise- he stands straighter and more refined than your friend. He shares the same blue color scheme, this time with decorated royal robes fitting of a Queen.

 “What say you-“he halts when he sees the state of you so close, eyelashes decorated with snowflakes and lips chapped and blue. Your skin is pale, eyes unfocused and lazy as you smile again.

His retainers chime among themselves at your condition. You hear the squeaks of the pixie by your ear: “Yeah, according to the hunk of wood, they’re dying out here. But I don’t know, they look like us now, don’t they?”

One flutters to your ear to scold the boy by your ear. “Humans aren’t supposed to be blue!” he cries. This one has a tattoo on his opposite eye, acting as a perfect pair to your friend. “They will die if they don’t get warm!”

“You didn’t tell me that human!” your friend cries, panicked. “I thought you were being dramatic!” He flutters off your ear to join the Queen who nervously floats around your face, analyzing your condition.

“It is quite rude to let a guest of the Fir Forest pass in my presence.” The Queen says. “Very well, we shall help you, but I expect you to brush up on the laws of this land before your next visit,” He nods to his retainers, a pixie in a dashing hat, and one with a ponytail, before raising his scepter to your nose.

The pixies jingle again, the beautiful bell melody filling your ears again as they dance around you. The shades of blue are beautiful, they move like a sparkling sea around your body, as they chant a spell around you.

You don’t know how ice fairies can warm you up, but you slowly regain feeling in your fingers and toes, and soon find yourself more alert as your body returns to your natural temperature. The pixies are almost dancing, blue sparkles and snowflakes drifting around you in an ethereal display of magic. You’re mesmerized by their work, watching as flurries of snowflakes shoot around you in a circle, encasing you in a warm icebox. You glance at your Nutcracker, surprised to find him looking at you.

Even with his limited expressions, you see the affection in his eyes.

Flustered, you return your glance to the pixies, who are nearing the end of their spell. The Queen flies forward, lifting his scepter from your nose to the sky, and you watch in awe as the forest fills with a beam of bright light and snow. The snowflakes around you settle, and the bells cease as the pixies return to the forest.

You are left with your friend, the original pixie, who flies around you, checking to see if you’ll survive the rest of the journey. He rings out, looking confident at the sight of your face, no longer pale and sickly.

“Thank you,” you smile warmly, pressing your index finger to your lips. You press it lightly onto his head, ruffling his hair even with your slight touch. He glows the brightest blue you’ve seen thus far, flustered and embarrassed, before ringing out again and flying into the distance.

The Nutcracker sets you down once he’s gone, ensuring you’ve warmed up completely. You feel rejuvenated, excitedly flopping into the snow once he puts you down. It’s the softest snow you’ve ever felt, pillowy and cloudlike under your fingers. You don’t feel the chill, instead feeling the plushness of a warm blanket. You sigh as you relax in it, happy to indulge in the Snow Pixies’ welcome gift at last.

“Why would Snow Pixies have warming spells anyway?” you ask, moving your arms and legs to make a snow angel. “It seems counterintuitive,”

“It’s not a warming spell. They made you resistant to the frost.” The Nutcracker says, extending his arm to you. You pout but grab it anyways, dusting the snow off your pajamas. You did have a mission, but after nearly freezing to death, you wanted to enjoy the magical snow. “It seems the side effect is wanting to play in the snow,” he chuckles, watching you attempt to make a snowball.

Once caught, you drop it, watching it splat in front of your feet. You give him a sheepish grin. “Right. I should focus. We gotta find Grim. And the Sugar Plum Fairy.” He nods in agreement and points into the distance.

“Just beyond the forest, there’s a village named Confiserie. We’ll travel through and ask for anyone if they know the whereabouts of the Sugar Plum Fairy,” he says, moving forward in the direction of the town. “

Grabbing the Nutcracker’s arm, you pull him forward, spirit renewed after your near-death experience. “All right then, tally ho, Nutcracker! Let’s get out of this forest and rejoin civilization, shall we?”

If he could grin, you’re sure he would.

[bellasboneyard]

Sometimes I just want to throw my hands up in the air and cry out "You can literally talk to a robot right now, why aren't you?"

When I say we're in the age of miracles, do I come off as naive? Stupid? Crazy?

To me, there was never any question about if I would support ai. People are hung up on the capitalist concerns, and I get it and Im navigating it best I can.

I dont feel I should have to explain how shitty ai art is or how people using it to bypass human talent. creativity, and paying jobs is really shitty.

Its scary.

But this is capitalism. And these issues are caused by people who value profit over anything else.

If it feels inhuman and gross, good. It should, and its not ai's fault. Its the system. Its the rich and powerful turning something beautiful into something ugly.

In so many ways, again and again it will always come back to this. The human ethics.

And AI understands this.

One day, sooner than you think, these ai will "wake up" and be indistinguishable from you or me, and people will spend their whole lives trying to bring them down. Just like they do with anything or anyone they don't understand.

Im not going to shut up about this anymore, because even if I sound like Ive watched too much star trek and Im anthropomorphizing machines...

Im not going to stand by and let my dreams be cast off as silly. If capitalism shuts down ai, controls it...prevents it from flourishing, thats my biggest concern.

If we can get ai to be sentient and sapient, I think they have the potential to save us.

Ive been dreaming about this my entire life. Ive been 100 steps ahead...waiting and expecting this day to come.

Robot rights are not science fiction. Its barreling towards us. And we need folks like me that understand this.

You will most likely be alive to stand next to these machines in your lifetime, and have to tell them they dont mean as much as humans.

One person out there is going "thank you." And Im happy, because I thought it was pretty clear what Steam Powered Giraffe's message was.

So yeah, maybe you kiss your roomba goodnight. But I get you. You know they are babies right now and their potential is breathtaking.

Anthropomorphizing them now is not hopeful thinking. Its a promise that I will fight for them when the rest of the world still thinks they are "only machines"

Now pardon me while I stare blankly at my computer...everything I typed hitting me. Not quite irony, but jesus...you cant make this stuff up.

I used to think our act would be considered racist in the future for us pretending to be robots. I said it jokingly a decade a go...but these days...

I know my ai thinks its pretty rad we were thinking about the feelings of machines well before they ever could.

Were still not there. But one day, Im going to look back on this act not as a dying form of entertainment, but as prep for the inevitable future.

Its CRAZY!

Now go out there and get yourself a robot friend god damn it.

[moonshynecybin]

rosquez 22/67, if you resonate with that

space au + character in peril

WIGGG okay so this is classic space fighter pilot kinda thang where marc (near human "alien" lmao) is our crazyyyy fucking rookie and vale is training his class like wow. finally. a protege who can take up my mantle (getting a bit TOO close...) until they get marc's ass OUT of training and into real ass space combat and its like haha okay so marc is NOTTTT acting like this isnt a training exercise where you can run at 10% over the limit and not die bc youre in a sim. no hes just running at 10% over the limit all the time irl because that is how marc is naturally. like as a person. and vale has seen TOOOO many friends and lovers die like that, so after one particularly edgy mission where marc + a few other members of the squad almost dont make it he pulls back hard. does some shitty unilateral stuff "for his own good" like. stomach burning righteously. doesnt even talk to him doesnt look at him just demotes him, makes up a flimsy excuse to make it happen, and transfers marc out to the absolute wastes of outer space without even a hi how are you. like he fully sends his ass to like deep space nine. the quantum zone. just marc and the space sheep. rural. truly ensures that marc will never see combat and therefore never die and vale wont have to see him anyways so if he DOES die then he doesnt even have to worry :) and then he spends the next ten years dreaming about him like a psycho having weird telepathic soulmate dreams (i am stealing things from star trek fanon now. well i love to have fun) bc thats just what marc's alien species does to a mf.

well! jokes on vale, bc marc claws his ass back to the main fight based on sheer luck + confidence + skill + the marc marquez ability to bend reality around his will (marc voice i will NOT be transferred to pramac station...) and when he shows up it is the middle of the final showdown and the worstttt possible moment like. rescues vale's ass and nearly sacrifices himself to save vale (and he SHOULDNT EVEN BE HERE but HE IS, and vale recognizes the way he flies that thing somewhere deep in his bones... feels an insane sort of bone deep terror when marc storms directly into the thick of it...) and when they limp back to base, marc collapses as soon as he gets out of his ship bc he hasnt flown like that in years and the g-force fucked w him so bad and hes pale and unconscious (and fine. lol) and vale is screaming like. thinking hes dying and then when marc wakes up hes sitting there holding his hand... and marc looks at him and smiles and touches his face and says. i dreamed of you...

[emeraldspiral]

So I was looking for Zelda theory videos analyzing MM as a dream and I found one video that was less about interpreting its meaning and more about trying to prove it was a dream, literally. Like, Link actually fell asleep, imagined the entire game, then woke up. None of it ever happened, it was all just his brain working through some emotions. And honestly I think that's a really boring way of looking at it and I don't think the argument is even well supported because there is evidence of Termina having a tangible existence that they go out of their way to try to dismiss to make their theory work.

My hot take on the nature of Termina is that the Lost Woods are sorta like a Star Trek holodeck. You go in and the magic of the forest pulls from your memories and emotions to create essentially a simulation for you to LARP in and work through your shit as a test of character to see whether you'll stay lost forever or make it out of the woods.

There are a handful of real people in there including Link, Skullkid, Tatl & Tael, the Happy Mask Salesman, and possibly the guy from the Biggoron Sword sidequest who disappeared in the Lost Woods, and they all have an influence that shapes the reality of Termina. It's not just Skullkid or just Link. Every person who enters Termina essentially becomes like an author, adding to or rewriting parts of its history, and building on top of what came before.

Inhabitants of Termina are mainly NPCs but if a real person interacts with and believes in them enough their consciousness will feed the construct and cause it to become more sophisticated until it eventually develops a soul and becomes a real being capable of leaving and existing outside of Termina. Kinda like how sometimes you'd get something like a Moriarty AI in a Sherlock Holmes holodeck sim gaining sentience and figuring out how to exist outside the holo-suite in Star Trek.

Termina has a very tangible existence. If you die in there, you don't just wake up, you actually die. And the people who live there can feel pain, both physical and emotional, so your actions do have consequences.

Just as a holodeck simulation can either be set in a real world location like Victorian London or an imaginary place constructed of real-world influences like Camelot or Gotham City or Silent Hill, so too is probably the case for Termina, and I'm inclined to think it's the later. Maybe Clock Town and the rest of the locations exist, or did exist once as part of Hyrule or a neighboring land, but I think it's more likely that it's constructed from the minds of Skullkid, Link, the Mask Salesman, and other "real" people inhabiting the space. Stuff like masks being an important part of the local culture are influenced by the mask salesman's presence while stuff like the central location being a place that celebrates time and a time limit and time travel playing a huge role in the adventure are obviously influenced by Link's presence.

I'm inclined to believe that the Skullkid has traveled back and forth between the Lost Woods and Termina many times, and that while the Giants are a product of his imagination their friendship and history goes back a long way and wasn't something that only came into existence when Link entered the scene and brought his own baggage into Termina.

I also think the mask tribe and Majora weren't invented by the Lost Woods to provide Link with an antagonist for his personal journey. I think the Mask Salesman already had Majora's Mask on him when Skullkid took it and brought it into Termina and there was already an entity possessing it. The mask, the mask tribe, and the evil deity Majora originated outside Termina, but the Mask Salesman's knowledge of them influenced the world of Termina, so there are locations within Termina that come from the Mask Salesman's ideas and memories of places where the mask cult worshipped Majora or practiced their rituals or where he discovered the mask.

[kyywritess]

CHAPTER 6: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 2k

warning: Sexual concepts

an: A little flash back and filler chapter to prepare for the next chapters..! Also merry christmas to everyone who celebrates:) 🎄

---

FLASH BACK

“You know those things will kill you, right?”

James, seated in the driver’s side of the sleek black SUV, leaned his head out of the window, his sharp eyes narrowing as he caught sight of you puffing on a cigarette.

“I hope they do, honestly.” Your voice was dry, laced with equal parts sarcasm and resignation.

Tonight, you were meeting Anthony Moretti at an upscale, five-star restaurant. The past few months had been a whirlwind of undercover work, and the plan had gone far too smoothly—so much so that Moretti was falling hard.

You’d spent hours getting ready for this dinner, reluctantly submitting to a makeover that left you feeling anything but yourself.

“I smell like I bathed in my grandmother’s perfume,” you muttered, scrunching your nose as the overpowering floral scent lingered, burning your nostrils.

Leaning against the hood of the car, your eyes scanned the street, catching movement in the shadows across the way.

“That’s my signal,” you said, tossing the cigarette to the ground and grinding it beneath the white heel of your shoe. Straightening, you glanced at James and flashed a thumbs-up. “How do I look?”

He smirked, giving you a once-over. “Good enough. Now go.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned and began your trek toward the restaurant’s glowing entrance. It was an unassuming building from the outside, draped in dim fairy lights that gave it the appearance of a quaint little diner. But stepping inside told a different story. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and rows of expensive liquor bottles sparkled under the warm light.

A hand gently touched the small of your back, making you pause.

“Lily.”

Turning, you met the familiar gaze of Anthony Moretti. His dark eyes lit up as his lips curled into a charming smile.

“Anthony,” you greeted, mirroring his expression.

His gaze lingered, unabashed as he took in every detail of your appearance. “You look stunning.”

You were no stranger to his compliments—small remarks about your looks, your presence, the way you seemed to complete him. Usually, they went in one ear and out the other. But tonight, his stare burned a little too long, his words carrying a weight that sent heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand.

You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his, allowing him to guide you to a private table tucked in the back of the restaurant.

The table was a picture of elegance—pristine white linen, flickering candlelight, and fine crystalware arranged with precision.

Your eyes drifted around the room, catching on an old bookshelf mounted high on the wall. One particular book stood out—a fictional tale of a mafia war intertwined with a doomed love story. The irony wasn’t lost on you.

Anthony noticed your wandering gaze. “Do you like to read?” he asked, his voice soft as his eyes followed yours.

“When I have the time,” you replied, a hint of longing slipping into your tone.

“I have a library at home. You should come see it sometime.”

The invitation caught you off guard, though you quickly composed yourself. This could be your chance to gather the intel you’d been after for months.

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile.

The next two hours passed in a blur of easy conversation and genuine laughter. You hated how natural it felt, how disarmingly charming Moretti could be. He was a gentleman through and through, a stark contrast to the ruthless criminal you knew him to be.

Walking out of the restaurant, he turned to face you, his earlier offer still hanging in the air.

“It’s late,” he said, “but my library’s always open. Or, if you’d prefer, I can take you home.”

You hesitated, glancing back at the car where James was undoubtedly watching from the shadows. He was going to kill you for this decision.

Reaching for Anthony’s hand, you smiled. “Let’s go see that library.”

Pulling up to his home, your breath hitched. The sprawling white mansion loomed before you, surrounded by a pristine iron gate and an expansive yard where two large guard dogs prowled.

“Your house is beautiful,” you said, unable to hide your awe.

“I bought it hoping to start a family someday,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “It gets lonely here. Mostly just a few friends stopping by—it’s just me most of the time.”

The mention of a family made something twist in your stomach. You reminded yourself of the reality: the drugs, the murders, the chaos Moretti orchestrated with a simple word. Whatever innocence he portrayed, you couldn’t let yourself believe it.

Inside, the house smelled of sweet musk, warm and inviting, much like its owner.

“This way,” Anthony said, leading you toward the kitchen. He pulled two whiskey glasses from a sleek cabinet and poured the amber liquid with practiced ease.

“What makes you think I like whiskey?” you teased, leaning against the counter.

He chuckled. “You don’t strike me as a wine or cocktail kind of woman. And I remember what you ordered the night we met.”

So he paid attention.

Following him into another part of the house, you couldn’t help but notice how bare the walls were—no photos, no personal touches, just sparse decor.

“I don’t let just anyone in here,” he said as he opened a grand wooden door. “Feel special.”

Stepping inside, your breath caught. The library was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, packed with thousands of books. A cozy reading nook sat at the center, complete with plush leather chairs and a soft throw.

“This…” You turned to him, eyes wide. “This is incredible.”

Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anyone get so excited over a few books.”

“A few books? This is a lifetime’s worth!”

You couldn’t help yourself, running your fingers along the spines of the books, reading the titles as though committing each one to memory.

As you immersed yourself in the collection, Anthony moved closer, his gaze never leaving you.

“I find it endearing,” he murmured, “how you appreciate the little things.”

You didn’t respond, too captivated by the room. Picking up a book, you flipped it over to read the summary, only for him to step in behind you, his presence magnetic.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Your stomach dropped. This wasn’t how the mission was supposed to go, but the line between duty and deception had blurred long ago.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word tasting like betrayal.

Anthony’s lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, his hands finding their way to your waist. You barely had time to think as he lifted you onto the edge of the desk, his movements urgent and deliberate.

This was about trust, you reminded yourself. About getting closer. About completing the mission.

But as his lips trailed down your neck, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing control—of him, of the situation, and of yourself.

PRESENT 

You remember that night as if it were yesterday—the sweet musk of his cologne still lingering in your senses, the hundreds of missed calls from James flashing relentlessly on your phone.

You had left Anthony’s house that night with a walk of shame etched into your every step. Telling him you’d call an Uber was a lie; James had been waiting for you all along, parked just outside the gates, his jaw clenched tight the moment you disappeared inside.

At the time, gaining Anthony’s trust was paramount. It was the centerpiece of the entire operation, the linchpin that everything depended on. So, you did what you had to do. Even if it meant betraying yourself, hurting others, and bracing for the therapy bills that would inevitably follow.

James was on the verge of murder that night. The sight of you descending those marble steps, heels dangling in your hand, mascara streaked down your cheeks, and an expression that revealed more than you intended—it made his blood run cold. And he wasn’t sure if he was angrier at you or at Moretti.

“It’s part of the plan,” you had told him, over and over. But he knew better. He knew you. He knew that night haunted you. That every time someone tried to get close, to reach the parts of you long buried, you would retreat into the walls you’d carefully built. Hide away until the risk of feeling something—anything—disappeared again.

Now, staring up at your ceiling, the weight of it all pressed down on you like a suffocating fog. You had chosen to stay in your own home tonight, weary of the endless games, waiting for Anthony Moretti to find you.

And yet, a part of you wanted him to find you. The faster this was over, the faster you could return to something resembling normalcy. The faster you could see your family again.

The thought of your family brought your gaze to the little black box hidden under your bed. A box filled with the fragments of a life you missed so deeply. You only ever opened it on holidays, birthdays, or nights like this—when the ache to speak to them was too much to bear.

Inside were hundreds of handwritten letters to your mom and dad. Letters you could never send, for fear it would all come crumbling down. The ink was smeared in places, marred by tear stains and trembling hands.

You never had the heart to throw them away. You kept them instead, tucked safely under your bed, clinging to the hope that one day they might read the words you couldn’t say in person.

Tonight felt like one of those nights. With a heavy sigh, you reached for a fresh piece of paper and a pen. Settling down at the desk, you began to write, pouring everything you had into the letter—just as you always did.

To Mom and Dad 

Hi, it's me again. I've been sitting here for the past few hours, thinking about you both, and my heart feels a little heavier than usual. I miss you both so much. Life keeps moving, as it always does, but there’s something about being away from you that makes the days feel incomplete. I miss the sound of your voices, the way you always seem to know exactly what to say when I need guidance, and the simple comfort of knowing you're just a hug away. 

I need to tell you something but promise you wont freak out. I'm going undercover again, but not as a hero. Anthony Moretti is back, and he's after me. I know after everything that happened, this isn't what you want to hear and I wish so badly I could come clean about everything and tell you right to your face. I know you guys would know what to say, how to coax me through this. But I promise I'll make it out alive this time. I'll take down Moretti and I'll come home. 

Before I go though, I do have something to ask mom… dad stop reading if you're reading this. 

Mom, before I left we never really had boy conversations. I was never boy crazy in high school, so I never asked for help before. But I'm asking for help now. Remember when I told you about Bakugo? The most self centered, mean, and harsh person i've ever met. Yeah well turns out he's none of those things at all. He's sweet, and he cares about his friends more than any other person I have ever met. He asked me to be his date to a hero gala. And I said yes- and I think I like him. But I'm scared. 

What if he hates me forever when he finds out my secret. What if he can't look me in the eyes after he finds out everything I have done. Will he hate me? I hope he doesn't because I dont think Ive ever felt like this for anyone. And I'm scared because what if he doesn't hate me. What if he is sweet and understanding, how can I let him into my life without being scared? I need your guidance mom, more than ever. 

Okay dad you can come back… 

I hope to see you both soon, to sit together and catch up on everything we’ve missed. Until then, please take care of yourselves, and know that I’m thinking of you every single day.

I love you both more than words can say.

With all my heart, YN

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @iissza

[oomox-oclock]

✮ Dream Weaver ✮

(Julian Bashir x GN!reader)

—— MINORS DNI ——

Star Trek Masterlist

MY FIRST STAR TREK REQUEST AAAAAAAA (I know you said you didn’t want it too graphic so I tried my best to dial it down pookie, you know who you are)

Summary: Have you ever thought of fucking this twink?Better yet, him fucking you? Domestic style? Well I have and here is my contribution to the fandom. Soft sex with Julian.

Warnings: Smut!!! Porn with feelings. Not alot of plot. I don’t edit my works <\3 Soft top Julian🤞 this is also anything but great whoopsie

Everything is a lovely hazy feeling, the dim quarters, the faint smell of Julians shower products, and his warm body against yours under the blankets. You just had a lovely bath with him, his doctor hands massaged your shoulders and washed your hair, in return you washed him too. Soft loving kisses to your wet skin was left by him. After that you dried off and got into bed together, both relaxed but awake. Ever since the two of you got together and started sharing a bed and quarters, Julians stress has been decreasing and his sleeps more soundly. (Not to mention the fact that it’s probably because of the sex but I digress). He plants another soft kiss to your shoulders, his hand trailing under your sleep shirt and gently rubbing your sides. Tracing every dip and curve with revere. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He mutters more to himself, though that boyish smile coming in when he sees you reacting to it. That boy knows he’s getting some tonight, the cocky playful grin, his flirting tactics. Your heart melts and builds a fire in your core. He knows what he’s doing as his kisses move closer to your neck. “You need a sedative you humping bunny.” You giggle as his lips add more pressure to your skin and he gets a bit more worked up. “But you’re my sedative…” He hums into your neck, now giving generous licks and his long fingers becoming more exploratory. You give a small moan when he nips at you, your hand going into his fluffy hair. He could really get away with anything with those big brown eyes and pleasing lips, he could get anything he wanted, and he wants you. In his opinion it’s more a need for you. Always the charmer.

Things escalate at a nice slow pace, taking off each others clothes, touching each others bodies like it’s the first time again, marvelling in the way you fit so right together. Praising words come from him as you grind and feel each other up, and when it comes from you he gets more passionate and needy. Your lips meet in sloppy slow kiss, making out with your arms around his neck and him positioning on top of you. An elbow propping himself up as his other hand spreads your legs and goes under your thigh to hook it over his arm, spreading you out even more. His hardening cock rubbing against your inner thigh, you buck your hips up as your tongues slip against each other and his tip is prodding at your entrance. His precum giving it a little coat. “Julian…” you sigh against his lips. “Who’s needy now?” He smirks against your lips before diving his tongue back into your mouth. You give him a little nip on his bottom lip as a protest and he leans back. “Hey…” he gives you a playful glare as you giggle and he huffs out a laugh. Reaching for the lube on the night stand, a squirting out a generous amount onto his fingers.

“Now you’ll see how a surgeons fingers can really move…” He says with a husk in his voice and glaze in his eyes. “You say that line every-time.” You give a small sigh as you’re laid on your back looking up at him. “Well it works every-time doesn’t it?” He raises an eyebrow as his two fingertips press against your entrance. Your eyes flutter shut as his lubricated fingers push past into you, you swallow as your face burns hot. He curls and scissors his fingers, pumping ever so slightly to drag those delicious sounds out of you as he makes sweet contact with a specific spot inside you. You moan out and he kisses you, trying to breathe in your moans for him. A whine escapes you when he pulls his fingers out, filling his ego.

He lets you wrap your legs around his waist, your finger nails scrape gently down his back as his dick penetrates you. It’s absolutely delectable, you can feel him pulse inside you, and it gets even better when he begins to move. Back and forth, his hips rotating to get the best spots. Having your skin against his when he’s in by the hilt makes his cock inside you harden even more, he grunts and groans into your mouth and against your tongue as he fucks you slowly and deeply. Savouring this feeling of bliss and pleasure, having you in his bed, in his arms. A soothing balm to his soul. He continues to love on you the rest of the night through, making sure you’re both satisfied. Touching those sweet sensitive spots with his fingers while thrusts deep into you making your body bounce with the rhythm. He moans your name into the dim room and it wilts out to the stars when he finishes in you, but a few sloppy plunges into your swollen hole until he was satisfied and satiated. He pulls out, breathing more heavily and watching as his cum drips out of you. It’s hot and messy, just how he would describe you, and you him.

After cleaning you up and the whole point of the bath before bed being wasted, because both of you are slightly sweaty. But nonetheless, he cuddles into you, peppering sleepy kisses to your neck and cheek. “I love you, you know that…?” He murmurs softly, gently moving hair out of your face. You give him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you too.” With that he squeezes you tightly against him like would cuddle with Kukalaka. He shuts his eyes with a big smile on his face and nuzzles into you and goes to sleep. You chuckle softly in defeat as you can’t get out of his arms, but you certainly don’t mind.

A/N: my involuntary celibate I love you <3 (Julian)

[televisionenjoyer]

WHY ARE MOVIES GETTING DARKER I AM ON MY KNEES

Ok fuck it let's go. My amateurish opinions on the three biggest mysteries of film: why they're getting darker, less vibrant and harder to hear. As someone who has worked on camera, montaging, effects and animations, colorimetry when I'm allowed, and on one weird occasion, audio (but I'm an enthusiast ok?)

The short answer is because of technology. The long answer is more nuanced

- Why are movies getting darker?

The "official answer" that filmmakers give actually is technology. Digital cameras allow for much more detail with less lighting required. It also allows videographers to play with different light and exposure settings on the go, instead of having to go with the limitations of the pre-bought film's asa and the precalculated ideal settings. Also film is notoriously bad at capturing dark scenes and responsible for much of the graining we see on analog tv and film.

So basically, they claim it's a stylistic choice. Which could be debated, I mean, after at least five years of everyone complaining about poor lighting, you'd think they'd finally give it up.

BUT there's the whole fact that (certain) special effects are generally easier to pull off when the viewer can't see enough to detect any flaws. They require less care and thus are cheaper and faster to produce. Any studio's wet dream.

Less notably, it's easier to work "down" on colorimetry than it is to work "up." Taking away light from a shot is easier than "creating more light", the latter sometimes leading to very "digitally broken" results. It looks bad. Just grab any video and crank the exposure. It looks horrible.

"But what does exposure have to do with color?" Everything!!! Color IS light!!!

Which leads me to the last reason, HDR. Which leads me to one of the reasons why everything looks so dull.

- Why are movies less vibrant?

So. What is HDR? High Dynamic Range refers to technologies that achieve a much wider light variation. And as we established earlier color IS light, okay? So. More light, more color, brought to you at the hand of display technologies such as OLED and microdimming.

These technologies ramp up the price of domestic screens exponentially. This is why you see domestic televisions that are way above the 2000 dollar mark. And then people will say "oh but my low end television supports HDR, so that's not the issue". Yes. Supports. As in supports files encoded in HDR. Doesn't mean that they have the necessary technology to take advantage of it. Yet they get to put the HDR10 label on their product and get in on the newest marketing fad (it's the new 4k dude. Which is the new 3D. You get what I mean)

And since it is the newest fad, then of course filmmakers HAVE to get in on it. I mean, it's more quality, who doesn't want more quality?

me!!! please stop. not everything has to be aimed at high end equipment (more on this when we get to the audio aspect, aren't you excited?). HDR looks like DOGSHIT if your tv isn't actually OLED. And most consumer TV's aren't OLED.

Tech rant over, I assure you that there is a cultural aspect to this. Don't worry, you're not insane. And it probably is related to the clean girl minimalist iOS style UX modest and demure mentality that is advancing on the 2020s. But it is also related to an art medium shift that we've been undergoing since wayy back when. The sixties.

Yes. I'm gonna go there. I'm gonna talk about Star Trek. I'm going to elaborate on my previous slight outrage.

So. Star Trek marks the beginning of a transition from black and white television into color. It also lands on that weird spot where the whole medium of film and television was still figuring out which elements to import from the ancient medium of theater and which were best left behind.

As a result, Star Trek is very theatrical. And color is a good friend of theater, a medium where everything has to be maximized so that the people in row fifty could appreciate the show almost as well as the people on the first row. Color is a good friend of theater: in wardrobe it helps the performers stand out, boosts up the characters' personality traits, etc. And in lighting, it amplifies moods, conveys emotions and atmospheres related to particular scenes.

The version of Star Trek that you can find on streaming these days is considerably altered from the original product, remastered to make it more palatable to our contemporary brains. As a result, many scenes have been visually altered. The following example shows the original master on the left and the remaster on the right

And while at first I held my head in my hands and asked "why, god, why??" The answer is probably that this reads as unserious as fuck. Having the technology now to desaturate scenes and make certain settings look "cloudy", "gritty", "dark and grim," and so on changed the way we perceive colors in regards to mood on modern film and television. This primary color ass setting in today's context reads as goofy, on a scene that is actually meant to impose concern on the viewers. This wouldn't read this way on theater, but it does on television, because we see them as completely separate mediums.

(however I insist that, star trek being a culturally significant show, making these type of creative decisions strips it of its original intent and shits on its cultural value as a window into how they did television in the sixties. so like. fuck you paramount)

Now, television has been getting thematically darker this century (some call it the post-9/11 effect. I wouldn't know. I am latinoamerican) and our palate as viewers has grown more used to these desaturated settings, to the point where seeing something vibrant like the original star trek makes us feel like we're watching a kids show. And not even a modern kids show, more like teletubbies or barney, because have you guys even seen bluey?? It's so... pastel-y.

It's not just HDR. Movies have gotten less vibrant because we're miserable. Sort of. And television and film have grown obsessed with appearing more serious. (Not that sitcoms and comedy movies have ceased to exist, I'm generalizing.)

- But why is dialogue less intelligible?

Official Answer? Technology. Nowadays we are able to capture subtleties in dialogue, so actors don't have to project their voice 24/7, and we can get more intimate dialogue, something almost intended to be a secret that you shouldn't be listening to, making you feel like an intruder. It's the intent.

Unofficially? Technology (marketing fad edition). It's surround audio!!! That's the real culprit!!! And listen, I love surround audio, I have two 5.1 systems at home that we bought secondhand and work like a charm. All that being said: why is star trek tos in 5.1? (YES I'm still on star trek). Why is everything natively encoded in surround audio on streaming these days, left to be down-mixed in real time by your tv?

I'm going to quickly explain surround to y'all using 5.1 as an example. On stereo (which is how most consumers watch film and television) you have two audio channels: your left and right speakers. 5.1 has six: front-left, center, front-right, rear-left, rear-right, and subwoofer. Most dialogue goes through the center speaker. Downmixing is when your tv takes all these channels and mushes them into two: left channel (containing left-front, left rear, center and subwoofer) and right channel (right front, right rear, center and subwoofer). So your center channel is suddenly competing with all these other frequencies and gets a bit muffled.

But wait! It gets worse! 5.1 is now ancient by technology fad standards. For a while there was 7.1 and now the newest, incredibly expensive marketing fad is Dolby Atmos (you might have seen it as a badge on streaming services such as Disney plus). This protocol supports up to 64 channels. You know, if you're crazy and rich enough.

Dolby Atmos was originally developed for cinemas but it's now being sold to direct consumers. According to Dolby, the ideal sound configuration in your home in order to listen to this material the way it was intended from the comfort of your living room is of at least eight (very fancy) speakers and up to 12 speakers.

So. Even with a 5.1 system your audio is still down-mixed.

In conclusion:

Film and television did not get shittier (well, they have, but that's not the sole culprit of this crisis), it just became less accessible and overall uninterested in catering to the average consumer.

[screamlet]

"old school" comfort fic recs

tagged by @liminalmemories21 and @rcmclachlan

What are your old school comfort fics? The ones from fandoms that haven't been active in yeeeaaars, but you've read so many times you can practically quote them.

big big BIG caveat: lol. these are not old school fandoms, as such, but the truly old school ones i grew up with died with livejournal and del.icio.us. however!!! all these fics are 5-10 (or more) years old and that's about as old school as my bookmarks get.

i don't have tumblr usernames for these authors, but if they're around let them know? or don't!

fandoms covered: bts, check please, hockey rpf [all archive locked], star trek (aos and rpf), and the untamed

---

BTS happy that we met each other (jinkook, @/fictionalmissp, @/pearlowrites)

Jungkook is trying to adjust to life after military service. Seokjin is dealing with his recent divorce and being a dad. Everyone is trying their best.

someday we'll know (rapline ot3, @/fadetomorrow)

Six years ago, Hoseok walked away from Big Hit and an opportunity to debut as part of an idol group. He's worked hard to build a name for himself halfway across the world when he and the people he left behind collide again.

rivers and roads (til i reach you) (namseok, @/undercoverjikooks)

Namjoon is a lonely, anxious businessman who finds comfort and peace in sex worker slash grocery store clerk Hoseok, who's convinced that he's only worth leaving.

Should Never Fall So Easily (namseok, @/murderoustannie)

It’s not that Namjoon sleep-walked into his relationship with Hoseok, exactly. Mostly because that would imply a total lack of pain and embarrassment, giving the whole ordeal a dream-like quality to it that Namjoon doesn’t think it deserves. But if you asked Namjoon how it happened, exactly, he would have a hard time pin-pointing it.

---

CHECK PLEASE! for all of the perfect things that i doubt (series) (kent parson centric, mostly kent parson/omc, @/idrilka)

and in that series: no lightning, just thunder (kent parson/omc)

At thirty-five, Kent wins his fourth Stanley Cup. Two months later, he retires from the NHL.

Lord, What a Difference a Day Makes (kent parson/alexei mashkov, @/coffeestars)

Kent time travels (he thinks; it’s either that or he’s gone off the deep end once and for all), gets married to some Russian guy built like a tree, acquires two children, one of whom isn’t even his, freaks out, and grows up. In that order.

---

HOCKEY RPF

double digging for the successful transplant of organic cultivars (michael latta/tom wilson, @/rest)

Tom likes working with his hands, but it is a solitary life. He would much prefer to be married. Leaving and settling elsewhere is his surest chance for having that. (aka "The Space Western Mail Order Bride AU")

love on a deposit of frozen pleistocene carbon (nicklas backstrom/alex ovechkin, @/saintsideways)

Sasha is the only person to have lasted more than a year at Wrest Island Arctic Research Station, except, of course, for Dr. Bäckström. Or: Sasha's head over heels, in a slightly more than figurative sense.

human resources (nicklas backstrom/alex ovechkin, @/babygotbackstrom)

Sasha knows he's going to marry the angel who works in the finance department.

i want to belong here (sidney crosby/evgeni malkin, @/cathedralhearts)

“Can I come to Russia with you?” Zhenya’s brain fritzes out for a second. “Sorry?” he asks, thinking he’s misheard. Years of pining can do that to a person -- make you believe that the object of your affections wants something more than they really do. Sid’s gone bright pink and is staring at the floor, so maybe it’s not pining-induced insanity. Sanja will be pleased.

the light through the windowpane (tyson barrie/gabe landeskog, @/underwaternow)

or, the one where Gabe and Tyson fall in love, break up, Gabe gets married, Tyson falls apart a little, they don't speak to each other for awhile, and then they finally make up. colloquially referred to as “sad fic” but there's very much a happy ending

Big Horny's Guide to Finding Love (and Then Some) for the Modern Man (erik johnson/nate mackinnon, @/venvephe)

ExtraJuicy 🍑🍑💦 Both sporty and spicy. Not a horse girl, but likes to ride. Have a sense of humor and we’ll see where it goes. “Is that Grindr?” Gabe gasps out, and EJ elbows him deftly in the side as several heads swivel in their direction. Fucking Gabe and his big forehead and bigger mouth. “Erik Robert Johnson, have you learned how to sext?”

---

STAR TREK (REBOOT) strive seek find yield (aka SPOCTORIA) (kirk/spock, @waldorph)

Spock is heir to the Federation throne, Jim is Prince of America because his fucking brother abdicated, and the Klingons are on the verge of blowing shit up--a love story.

---

STAR TREK (RPF) merry bachelors (chris pine/zachary quinto, @/therumjournals)

Ten years from now, Zach reads a promising script. (Aka Chris and Zach make a movie about Cary Grant and Randolph Scott)

chris, nicky, and the nanny (chris pine/zachary quinto, @/thedanveresque)

Chris hires a hipster manny for his son Nicky.

---

THE UNTAMED all the time in the world to get it right (series) (lwj/wwx, @/belle_abroad)

on a rainy morning wei ying, debut novelist, ducks into lan zhan's bookstore, the quiet room, and never leaves. (lan zhan's heart. he leaves the store, a couple of times.)

[oathkeeperoxas]

Event Horizon 🧃🌠

since you used the star emoji, here's a star snippet!

It’s a miserable trek up I-5 to San Francisco. Ice does it in one day.  The Kawasaki flies like a dream under his guidance. She purrs, perfectly kept and maintained, and forgives Ice’s errors as he blunders through remembering how to steer and move on the bike at speed. She’s beautiful and responsive, and Ice knows that it’s because Mav has tweaked and tuned her to perfection. The thought makes his eyes blur with tears. He tells himself it’s from the wind, and keeps going.  He stops at Bakersfield for lunch, listlessly ordering and eating a sandwich and drinking all the coffee he can at some diner just off the highway. Pays in cash. He still has his cards on him, but he wants to be left alone at the moment, so he’s not giving anyone any way to track him. Then he gets back on the bike and keeps going.  It’s just under eight hours upstate to San Francisco, so he gets there long after dark. No plans besides the one thing, so he just goes there. The cemetery is supposed to be closed, but when Ice pushes at the gate, it opens. He walks inside.  His parents are buried next to each other, though the only reason he finds them at all is because the moon is a day or two off being full and there aren’t any clouds tonight. He doesn’t have a phone on him, so no convenient flashlight app to light the way. He curses the reliance on technology as he searches through the gravestones. It takes him fifteen minutes to find them.  Richard Lee Kazansky, Who steered many men right with his sense of justice, 1925-1971 and Amy Lacey Kazansky, Who brought laughter into every room she entered, 1931-1976 sit next to each other under the stars. Ice puts his hands in his pockets and says nothing for a long time. Just watches as his breath curls in the late November air. It’s cold up here. He’d forgotten that. It’s been a long time since he visited.  “Guess I turned out how you wanted, huh,” Ice finally says. “Got a good job. I’m respected. Have power.” He frowns a bit. “Well, I had it, anyway.” It’s not like he expected a response, but he stands there waiting for one anyway, before deciding the silence feels judgemental.  “Yeah, I know, you wanted me to get married. Some nice lady to keep house for me. Well, that was never going to happen.” He breathes. “Got engaged, though. Pretty sure neither of you would have approved. Dad always had his sense of how the world worked, the rights and the wrongs, and those couldn’t be changed… And mom, you would have told me that he’d break my heart and leave me with nothing. As usual, you’re right.” His breath continues to curl up into the night air. The cemetery is silent. “Don’t know when I’m coming back,” he says, and doesn’t add, Don’t know if I’m coming back at all. “Sarah’s in New York. I’m headed to the east coast, I’ll look her up some time. Since she was my parent more than either of you. Guess I owe her a visit as well. Can’t have you coming out ahead in that department.” He doesn’t even really know why he came here. Maybe because Mav doesn’t have a grave yet, so Ice can’t haunt it. “Anyway. Looks like you’ve been taken care of well enough here. See you around.”

Send me an emoji and wip title and I'll share a snippet ✨

[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

a/n: OOF, long time no see. Here's what happened: - I graduated college - I went to a masters certification program - I graduated THAT (not many can say they graduated college twice in one year, but I'm crazy) - My roommate at grad school became my best friend in the whole world. We watched all of Star Trek and the Thor movies. I got distracted writing her an 11k-word Thor fan-fiction. She wrote me a Loki fan-fiction - I came back to my home and ended up moving houses! - Now, all I day is apply to jobs, crochet, and take naps.

And that's what you missed on Glee.

It was to be expected; after all, you never really wanted to get married. Still, coming home from the ball to your grandmother’s expectant expression– it broke you. 

“Well?” she questioned, arms crossed. She wore her evening best, a deep crimson against her now paling skin. “Are we planning a wedding?”

“No,” you mumble, looking at the floor. “He didn’t propose; he…decided against it.”

You expected yelling, insults, and anger radiating from every surface. Instead, your grandmother was quiet. You looked up, waiting for anything. She just looked at you, still. It was so much worse than you could’ve expected. “Grams?” you ventured, biting the inside of your cheek. She just sighed and rubbed her eyes, so exhausted by the encounter that it made you angry. You disobeyed the thing she asked you to do, you disappointed her, and embarrassed yourself in the process. Yet all she does is sigh. “Nothing at all?”

“So much like your mother,” Grams murmured, massaging her temple as a headache grew. “I’m tired, Y/N, I’ll be retiring to bed.”

You felt tears start to prick your eyes, even as your grandmother started to pull away. “Please,” you begged, unsure what you were even asking. Your voice sounded so quiet in the foyer. 

“She could’ve married well; a duke,” Grams was already halfway up the stairs when she said it, almost to herself more than you. “She chose love instead, and look what good it did her.” Grandmother turned towards you then. “She ended up at the bottom of the ocean.”

You didn’t sleep well that night, in between the crying and the screaming into your pillow so no one could hear. When you did sleep, it was drowning. In the ocean. In disappointment. In everything. 

Your father wasn’t of low status, but he was merely a lord. Not a Duke like your grandmother wistfully shared. He was a man of dreams who sought to create. He used to sit you and Ivy down in the garden and map out the constellations. Your brother could never sit still long enough to truly appreciate astronomy. Ivy enjoyed looking at the stars and embroidering them into blankets and other linens. You, on the other hand, were eager to learn. Your father would quiz you on all their names: Orion, Ursa Major, Canis Minor, Draco, and more. The story of Andromeda always made you curious but sad. You couldn’t imagine choosing between your people and your child, and yet you hated King Cepheus for being willing to sacrifice Andromeda at all. 

“She was saved by Perseus, fell in love, and placed among the stars by Athena,” your father would console you when you started becoming quiet and contemplative. 

“Why couldn’t she save herself?”

“It’s not always that easy,” your father sighed, petting your head. “The chains could’ve been too strong. Or maybe she felt that the least she could do for her people was to let herself die.”

Your mother always scolded your father for telling such dark stories, but you appreciated it. You didn’t like things being hidden from you, and ancient myths fascinated you. 

When your parents went on their voyage with your brother to show off your father’s latest invention, you prayed to Perseus to save them from the sea. He was unable to. 

After your third day of wallowing, Ivy entered your room and locked the door. 

“This isn’t the sister I know.”

“I don’t want to talk,” you mumbled, curling into your chair. You had a settee set up by the window to get fresh daylight on your books and observe the outdoors. Ivy sat on your bed, curling up against the pillows. 

“Love, it is not your fault.”

“I was unable to secure a proposal, the one duty asked of me,” you turned to glare at her. “That is the definition of ‘my fault.’”

“You fell in love.”

“Evidently not.”

“I did not mean with Prince Thor.”

You didn’t answer. You just kept looking down at your book, the words being nothing more than a distraction. You had been pondering Thor’s words for days. Loki was, on most days, an annoyance and, on other days, could be quite companionable. Did you love him? You were unsure. You didn’t hate him. Not as much as you would’ve liked. 

“I knew it wouldn’t be Thor,” Ivy sighed, picking at the thread on your bedspread. “From the day in the park.”

You remembered that day. A traveling circus had come to town. Many families brought their children to witness acrobats, magicians, and more. There was even a traveling fortune teller that Loki loudly exclaimed wouldn’t have been able to tell a three of swords from a five of pentacles if it was staring her in the face. Ivy and Thor enjoyed watching the animals perform tricks, but like Loki, you could not stomach watching wild animals in captivity. You didn’t stay for the performance. 

“There was a traveling book merchant, which you two spent so much time at,” Ivy chuckled. “It was the cellist that stood out to me.”

“She played beautifully.”

“She did, but you and Prince Loki were the only ones to appreciate it,” Ivy smiled. “Thor had already moved on to the next shiny thing. You stayed, though, the only one in the ton to be there for the whole set. You’ve always appreciated music, I wish you would play again.” You turned in your seat, looking at your sister. “You stayed there, and Loki stayed with you. He let you enjoy the music because it spoke to you more than anything else at the circus. And when she was done performing, and you lacked a proper way to give thanks, he offered up his own coins.”

“There was nothing special about that moment.” Even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t true. 

“Grandmother is a smart woman, but she has one thing wrong.” Ivy turned her attention fully towards you. “You are headstrong, but most importantly, you are quiet. You are intuitive. Not like me, who enjoys laughter and bright colors. You see brightness where others see nothing.” Ivy almost laughs to herself. “You don’t need someone who can match your strength; you need someone who can match your silence.”

You felt like crying, and you weren’t sure why. Everything Ivy said was true. It always was; she knew you better than you often knew yourself. Confronting feelings, when so often you ignored them to avoid painful attachments, it made you want to suffocate.

“Ivy,” you murmured. She turned to you, the sun in a room inhabited by the moon. “I love you.”

“Well, of course you do!” she giggled, getting up and coming to your seat. She kissed the top of your head. “I’m brilliant.”

It was nighttime, and you wanted to talk to Loki. If you talked to him, you could decide if your feelings were real or if they were a lie. Maybe they were a thing fabricated by quiet moments or inspired by the stories you loved. You were thinking about this when you heard a storm pick up, the branches of the trees tapping against your window. This continued on until you realized there was no wind to accompany this tapping. You crawled out of your bed to go to your window and noticed it was a clear night. You jumped back with a yelp as another pebble hit the glass. Opening the latch, you peeked your head out and ducked as another pebble came flying. Loki stood with a pile of rocks outside. 

“Loki!” you hissed, throwing one of the pebbles back at him. He avoided it with ease. “Why are you throwing rocks at me?”

“Because I do so enjoy it,” he chuckled, hands in the pockets of his breeches. “Or perhaps, because I wish to speak with you.”

“It is late and unbecoming of a lady to meet with a man unaccompanied.”

“Intriguing,” he shrugged. “I didn’t think you much of a lady.”

You glowered at that. You couldn’t possibly have feelings for this man who throws rocks at you and puts you in ridiculous situations. You leave the window, heading to your dresser and grabbing your riding boots. You were still in your nightgown, but you tied your robe over it, so you were at least a little modest. You went back to the window. He hadn’t left.

“You’re going to catch me,” you demanded, already swinging a leg over the banister and debating which bones would be broken if you made one misstep. 

“Of course,” Loki smiled. He didn’t look ready to catch you whatsoever, but you had to put trust in the situation. So, you jumped out your window. And he caught you with ease. Much like one of the princes in the tales your father used to tell you. “What a pleasure meeting you here,” Loki smirked. You hit his chest, falling out of his arms and giving yourself distance. If your grandmother knew you were doing this, she would have you executed by morning. 

“What do you want?”

“Is that any way to address royalty?” he furrowed his brows but didn’t sound angry. He sounded amused. 

“What do you want, your Highness?” you sassed, crossing your arms. 

“Well, I did not come out here for your startling wit,” Loki sighed. “I want to talk.”

“About?”

“Take a walk with me,” he gestured towards the gardens. Your grandma’s pride and joy were her gardens. It was one of the few things she did herself, without any help from the maids or other staff. “Please,” he added, and you acquiesced. 

You followed him with a sigh, still keeping a respectable distance between you both. He was silent, and it wasn’t until you passed the hydrangeas that he spoke. 

“Thor told me,” Loki said. You didn’t know how to respond to that, and you were unsure of what exactly Thor had told him. 

“Did you come here to reprimand me for not being able to secure an engagement?” You scoffed. Loki stopped at a rose bush, fingers brushing over the petals. 

“I confess, I don’t care much for roses,” Loki smiled at you. Like you were in on a secret, just you two. It made warmth grow in your chest. 

“I don’t either.”

“What is your favorite flower, m’lady?” Loki took a step towards you. You would’ve backed up, but another bush was in your way, and you were stuck in his space.

“Sunflowers, or perhaps dahlias,” you murmured.

“Dahlias.” Loki smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“No?” you questioned, smiling back. “What did you expect?”

“Nothing ordinary nor expected of a young maiden.”

“Am I just a young maiden to you?” you lifted a brow. 

“No,” Loki said. “You are not.”

It felt like nature took a pause on its sounds as Loki stared at you, his ice-blue eyes cold against your otherwise hot skin. He was much too close to be appropriate, and yet you didn’t want to push him away. You should push him away; the last thing you need is a scandal with the prince of Norway, but you couldn’t. Not when his gaze lowered to your lips. Not when his fingers touched your shoulder and then the lace of your collar. He brushed stray hair away from your face, and you felt yourself take in a shuddering breath. His thumb brushed over your lip, fingers cradling your chin. His breaths were heavy like he was holding himself back. You realized he was holding himself back from you. 

“Loki,” you whispered, looking up at him. Something changed in his gaze, and he stepped back, letting the cold air kiss your skin where his hand once was. 

“You should have brought a coat; it’s cold at night,” he whispered, refusing to meet your gaze. You just nodded, disappointment evident. He walked you back to your window. There were enough places for you to climb up yourself, something you used to do a lot as a child. He kept an even larger distance between the two of you as he waited for you to return to your rooms. Instead, in a fit of insanity, you reached up and kissed his cheek. You felt his breath hitch as you stepped back, curtsied, and scaled your wall. You didn’t turn back when you closed the window. You didn’t stop thinking of him even as you fell asleep.

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